#Open Bar Event Space

[thespacenextdoor]

Event space, private dining and catering - in the heart of Ridgewood

Address- 53-23 Metropolitan Ave, Ridgewood, NY, USA 11385

Phone- +1 718-418-6041

Business Email- info@thespacenextdoor.com

Website- https://thespacenextdoor.com

Welcome to The Space Next Door, a premier event venue located in the heart of Ridgewood, Queens. Specializing in private parties, weddings, and communions, our elegant space offers bespoke catering and open bar options to make your event truly memorable. Whether you're planning an intimate gathering or a grand celebration, our dedicated team ensures every detail is perfect. With state-of-the-art AV equipment and a cozy, stylish atmosphere, The Space Next Door is your go-to destination for unforgettable events. #RidgewoodEvents #ElegantVenues

[doggirl-narcolepsy]

welp back to bed with me.. beenn up for literally like 5 hours and I've been told my internship will probably fall through, though I won't know until literal days before I'm supposed to start. had to cancel what little plans I had for my birthday because of the weather and I haven't eaten anything in like 48 hours..

[theoccultz]

Your future spouse first impression of you ?

+ your first meeting details

Posted on : 19 nov , 2024

Pac #2♠️ of my future spouse series

All of my pacs are queer friendly

Since not everyone wants to get married , you could read for your s/o as well

Pics & dividers not mine , credits to their rightful owners @/saradika

Apologizes for any mistake

Let me know which pile you picked & dont be afraid to express your thoughts!!

Pile l . Pile ll . Pile lll.

Pile l .

The situation?

You are definately in an event together but you dont know each other for sure , you catch their attention first but its not very direct , this situation is very passive i'm seeing a scenario where someone actually saw the other person because of an accident its like you caught their attention by accident, this is an open space it could be a garden , an amusement park some sort of gathering or a wedding , there's people but they are minding their own business i do get a lot of chitter chatter so it could be a lively event . Yeah so back to the situation, i feel like maybe someone fell or something fell and you were around that object in that space so it all happened very naturally and the other person is prob sitting somewhere maybe a bar or some corner and they are bored asf ,this person seems to be drinking something as well , you both are well dressed they seem wasted and kind of intimidating to approach.

Why did you caught their attention?

Your person is in a time n space where they are not really feeling a lot hope or happiness, nothing bad has happened its just they are in a reflective/hermit mode and they dont have any energy or interest to interact with others, they could be going through their 12h transit so they are appearing to be very mysterious than they intend to , i'm seeing its love at first sight but you guys won't be that forward with each other your love story will slowly gets to its destination, so this person will for sure see you first but you are very much not aware , you on the other hand seems to be in a good mood , you could be picking up something for someone it could be a glass or some sort of utensil that made a loud noise lol or maybe someone tripped and fell & you kind of helped them out , you will feel as though someone is staring at you and yep you are right its them your fs , its not that awkward for both of you tbh you guys are feeling attracted to each other its like something clicked and you cant look away ,you guys will be sneakingly stealing glances throughout the night and did i mention? its late evening vibes , as i said this person will be feeling nervous its like they wanna say something do something they are very much on edge there's this fear of time , they will be contemplating on their thoughts should i go ? I dont know ? What to do ? Blah blah n stuff . Now onto my readers , you guys are feeling confident you are feeling brave in this situation you could be air signs or there's this Airy fairy vibes to you , you could be a scorpio moon as well or it could be just you are taking in everything and being in control of your emotions

Who will approach who first ?

I see there is some third party that will interfere like a friend or an acquaintance , they could be pulling you guys for a dance, for a game, just anything and thats when you will decide to approach them but its very subtle like oh i love what you're wearing? Navy blue ... its my favourite colour or you could just go and sit beside them ,So yeah those kind of small talk will lead to bigger things between you guys , you and your person are very similar to each other , you could come from same hometown you could be wearing same brand clothes , you could love cats and they could have a cat child as well . I do see you exchanging socials or trying to be with each other often . This person will feel rejuvenated its like starting a new chapter & anything thats new is exciting, Its very clear you like each other but yeah you guys will take time to confess 🙂‍↔️✋🏽

Okay cool people this is all i got for you , its veey simple yet interesting .

The song i got for you is also very "interesting" because in that music video they use this theme of falling in love at first sight and they meet each other by accident but its all destiny , i mean you can watch for yourself .

Song :

Thanks for reading !!

Pile ll .

The situation?

This is the story you will remember and laugh , you both will meet through other people and you both had to interfer , you're trying to create peace between two people who are creating conflict, you could be at a shop buying something and i think a fight will break out and its very stupid like you dont have change ? You are the store owner you get it for me , and the other person is like you cant talk to me like that give my stuff back , get out ......(I suck at giving examples so bear with me 🥲✌🏽) it could be as small as that or as big as you both are divorce lawyers fighting a case for your clients , but yeah you dont have anything to do with this situation but you guys had to intervene , when this situation gets over , you guys are kind of discussing/ bitching abt it like your ideologies match ... " Oh people are so stupid nowadays" ..... "yeah i agree " they fight on such small things like there's no understanding in the world *there is this Aquarius situation* where you guys are somehow jumping from topic to topic and its very logical , i'm literally hearing someone get political like yeah its the government they suck they increased taxes 😭🙌🏼blah blah

This is so funny lmao , you unknowingly kind of clicked , it is a situation that involves two strangers and something abt buying or returning is involved , i could describe another scenario for you guys to understand this , it could be a family conflict , your friend arguing abt the last donut , or people pushing each other to buy merch at the concert and its ridiculous because they are pushing each others button so you guys are kind of being the responsibile one is what i'm getting. I feel like the reason this situation is funny is also it could be your friend and their friend is arguing abt something and you guys are Falling in love like oh i didn't knew you love hot food , yeah i totally recommend this restaurant its so great and in the background its like a whole world war 8 waiting to happen.

Why did you caught their attention?

Because you were there and they found you attractive , i'm seeing this is the pile of my introvert readers or in this situation you could appear very calm n collected ,one moment you are shopping you are looking good and the next moment your friend is fighting and the next you are finding a stranger attractive like everything is happening so fast that too in a day lol , you will be attracted to them because they are your type and this person has some GOOD communication skills as well as great fashion sense, its something abt their eyes or hair that will attract you . Anyways i think you will be in the same locality and you will keep meeting each other , i didn't knew you existed kind of situation, so in the morning you guys are in the same park , you are studying in the same uni , you are volunteering for the same organisation, they are your new neighbour, stuff like that 🐰👏🏼

Who will approach who first ?

Them because they do not want to loose a great connection, they could be a leo mars so if they like someone they go all in to shower the person they love with attention and care , your energy seems very inward and their outward in this situation, they are the type of person who will be always ready to help you , your showers not working i got it ? You want notes , i got it , they will lookout for you , i do think you are away from home so you could meet them when you are in a transition period and you will admire them , there won't be any obstacles like you guys are meeting freely n stuff so you both are independent and content with your life ,you both are a great addition to each others life its like i found a great companion in you . This person is sweet but protective its those people who wants to take their lover everywhere and hold their hand all day , your fs has this energy of hold my hand and travel the world with me , they are also very sensual, humble , sweet , i feel like this person is enamoured by your beauty they feel like they needed you in their life and when they have you they're not gonna let go .

As everyone knows , i do have a movie addict roommate and his tip is to watch the movie "ishq" . So yeah let me know what the story's about .

Chanelled song :

Thank you for reading !!

Pile lll .

*Sorry for cussing so much in your reading, when i channel i just pick up on things as they are *

The situation?

You guys are my starboys/girls ,you are those people who have high standards in love , you will meet them when you both are not looking for something serious , this person will tempt you to think differently about love , I'm seeing you will meet them when you're rigid about your values , you are in a fierce energy its like you will go through this whole transformation where many people will not resonate with you anymore and you will be looking good af , you will be in an energy where you will attract people to you , this person is someone who's also on the same length as you , you both will be in this...." i'm single & i'm hot"..... energy , people would wanna be friends with you n stuff , i feel like you will also be a completely different person when you meet them , you were an introvert ? now you are not . You used to drink ? now you dont . So you are changing a lot of things about yourself in general & so is this person , since you guys are my ...." i dont need anyone "....pile you both will fail to resist one another , i took an oath ? Nevermind i'm breaking it , its like you know those 2 friends in a group who everyone knows they are fucking behind our back but no one dares to ask yeah that's you guys , people don't really need to know if you are into each other its VERY obvious , this is that person who does not care they show their crazy in love ,if they dont like it they're gonna say it , they don't want you to wear that they're gonna say it and they win everytime, i feel like you will give in ,you might be an independent bitch but with them you are not , this is kind of my dark soul people who have seen things in life , got their heart broken , they resonate with dark music , their eyes look intense , they give off intimidating vibes and this person is also very similar to you , its like unconsciously you wanted someone as intense as you , where your intensity does not scare em .....it turns em on... and this is that person who will be the result of your manifestation's .

Not to mistake this love as some stupid love , you guys will have a level of dedication to your relationship, you have principles set for your relationship, like we won't say stupid stuff to each other when we are angry n stuff . You guys have a lot of respect and loyalty for one another this is the typical they were made for each other & they found one another , this is all they needed . You guys are that couple who haunt each other like crazy , you guys don't mind waiting for one another , you won't leave each other ever and i think they will soothe this fear of your's (abondonment in love )

I will say this is the standard we all need in love ngl ❤️‍🔥✋🏽🙂‍↔️

Why did you caught their attention?

Bro this person is down bad , i am hearing crazy things anyways ......what about you does not attract them ? Everything, they were attracted to your light, shadow self ,crazy self they knew you were theirs the moment they met you i didn't clearly got where they met you but its some cafe i hear light jazz yeah you both were relaxed and this place is expensive asf , you could also meet them on a beach i see sea view and dim lights , you could wear red that day like there's wine , music , people this place is cold too , yeah so they were atrracted to your energy you stood out to them maybe you were the only one zoned out i dont see you being interested in whatever's going on in the background but everyone's enjoying it like its a whole DAMN mood , this person will be with their friends just observing you and honestly they could challenge you in your first meeting, you both are giving hints to each other back to back , like i know i have power over you , i know what i'm doing, i know you are flirting with me and its working, they are coming off as cheesy ,this could be a restaurant but you are alone and kind of exhausted, you could also go to this place after a hectic day, this person's style reflects a carefree rebellion nature , there is something different about em they could have tattoos they could wear earings even if they identify as a men , maybe paint their nails , maybe the women's also have short hair they could also hair dye their hair , piercings, they could wear something black on their eyes idk what you call them idk maybe they dress emo but yeah they look like they believe in breaking stereotypes. I feel like you on the other hand does not experiment with their looks n stuff but you will be during the time you meet this person , they might assume you are like them .

Who will approach whom first ?

Both of you are giving signals to each other , i do see someone behaving over the top here like they are risking it all *being very obvious in approaching the other * ahh idk i'm confused but their actions will flatter you for sure, its very clear to you , maybe there's a singer in that bar or place & this person will tell them to dedicate a song to you but there's a challenge here for sure , you think they are challenging you on something but its very playful and not hostile , it could also be a hookup but you will meet again and when you do its gonna be shocking maybe they are your senior or smth .

Song :

Thanks for reading!!

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯ feelings left unspoken

Falling in love with Katsuki is something out of this world, thrilling and comfortable. The intricacies of his soul come undone and rewound for the right person and form an unbreakable connection.

content // fluff fluff fluff. just how katsuki acts in love. words // 0.7k note // part of @seiwas one year anniversary collab! 『 k.bakugo masterlist ⊹ crossposted to ao3』

Deconstructing Katsuki Bakugo to his core was not something you envisioned happening in your lifetime, nor did you ever think you would be the one responsible. Everyone assumes that he is unable to be tamed, that raging fire on constant display impossible to smother, a knot tied so tightly that it could never be unwoven. Intimidating as it may have been, being in Bakugo's orbit was enough to let you know how he operates on a surface level. Brash, guarded, but more than anything, passionate. His determination and drive surrounded him like an aura, a prismatic ray of light that was impossible to look away from whenever he was near. It inspired you - something you were sure to express to him, no matter how many confused looks he'd give you in response.

Bakugo tried his damndest to keep himself held together when it came to love, refusing to come undone over a crush or bursts of butterflies in his stomach whenever you were near. It's not that he perceives those feelings as a weakness, but rather something he's afraid of failing at. Love was never on the forefront of his mind, a goal that always took a backburner to everything else. He'd tell himself time and time again if it's meant to happen, it will. Despite his harsh nature, that didn't stop you from wanting to linger in his space and get to know the real Bakugo - when he let you, of course. And to your surprise? Even the strongest of fortresses are able to be breached. He was tired of waiting for love to fall into his lap and took matters into his own hands.

He opened the palace gates for you with fanfare, but there was a catch. He insisted on earning you, that he didn't deserve you served on a silver platter with no effort. Bakugo doesn't do anything half-assed, and when it came to you? His personal expectations were through the stratosphere. That meant exchanging sweet nothings over dinner in a dingy bar in the city after a long patrol shift, strolling through the park on a sunny afternoon, inviting you to come camping with his friends so he can show you his favorite lookout point, buying your favorite expensive coffee each morning from the café on the corner (even though it's out of his way), and stargazing from the balcony of his apartment while you two talk about life until your eyes threaten to close. He's never vocalized how grateful he is for you to be around him, let alone give him the time of day, but his actions forever speak louder than any words he could use. It becomes second nature for him, those little things that silently say "I love you." It's little gestures that convey a thousand words.

Out to dinner with friends, Bakugo's hand lingers on your thigh under the table or his ankle is crossed over yours. Every time he holds a door open for you, his palm lays against the small of your back as you pass by. If you're at an event together, his hand never leaves your waist. Whenever you two are cooking together in the kitchen, he gives your shoulders a light squeeze anytime he walks passed you. Bakugo will cage you against his chest anytime you're on the couch, whether it's watching a movie or reading a book, he needs your warmth pressed against him to truly be comfortable. And every night, he refuses to go to bed before pinching your cheeks lovingly and placing a sweet kiss to your lips, whispering “love you” against them.

Through it all, Bakugo's let you unravel him piece by piece with the patience of a saint, secretly thriving on having someone accept his own version of love. There was nothing keeping you from traveling down every cobblestone road of his heart, no matter how rocky it became. He lets you unwind his stubborn nature a little bit at a time, giving him grace to find comfort in his personal love language. It didn't fit into any pre-determined category that most people would align themselves with, but borrowed from multiple to make it his own. To you, he's just Katsuki - your Katsuki - and you wouldn't trade him for the world.

bkg tags ; @slayfics @maddietries @starieqq  @liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @napbatata @Yoyolovesdaiki @queenpiranhadon @kirishimaeijiromyman @strwbrrykthv @hayatoseyepatch network ; @pixelcafe-network

[writingwisterias]

Mine

DI!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Dom Leon, Sub Reader, Praise Kink, Restraints, Daddy kink, Spitting, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Choking, Age-Gap, Slight Dd/lg dynamics, Mirror Sex, Poessive Leon, Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of body changes during pregnancy

Summary: After returning from a hard mission successfully, Leon has been ignoring you opting to close in on himself...getting fed up with the lack of attention and worried he will slip back into his old ways you try to get it back at him, only to end up with him giving you the punishment he thinks you deserve.

Can anyone tell if I have a breeding kink yet? My requests are open if anyone wants any more fics like this!

He was pissed. You could tell as his back was tense, his muscles tight as he led you throughout the events room, and your heels slipping against the hardwood floor as you barely managed to keep up with his pace. You didn't even notice that one of his coworkers had gotten close to you on the dance floor until he began touching you, however, you also didn't stop him. You were just enjoying the buzz of the large amounts of champagne you had drank so the night was even bearable. Neither of you wanted to come to this work event, to Leon it felt strange celebrating the so-called success of the mission even though there were so many lives lost and to you - you just didn't want to put up with the sour attitude he seemed to have gained since returning. You knew his job was hard and he faced many things so you never would have to thanks to what he does but it was hard to see him retreating into himself, snapping at you instead of cuddling and doting on you like he normally would. You could see that he was losing himself to the drinks that found their way into his hands every night; closing himself off which then eventually led to sloppy sex and drunken arguments. You were beginning to worry he would fall back into his old ways if you could drag him out of it.

Maybe that's why instead of pushing the coworker away you drew him in closer with the hypnotizing sway of your hips, the man's hands slipping over the satin of your red dress as he brought you closer to his body. The alcohol brought a smile to your features as you leant back into him, finally basking in the affection and lust you had desired the past few weeks. You could feel Leon's piercing gaze from the bar, your eyes landing on his features as he sipped from the whiskey glass. His gaze was heated, his jaw tight you would think his teeth would crumble away from the pressure he was putting on them. Part of you wanted to cringe away and run back to him like a little lost puppy like you always did. But after how he's been treating you (and the liquid encouragement you have been sipping on for the past hour) you decided to spin around in the man's arms; looping your own around his neck. Leon made you jump when he appeared, his grip hard on your arm as he ripped you away from the man and led you to the exit.

Leon thanked the valet man as he took the keys, making sure you were buckled in safely before slamming the door shut. The sound made you jump; before you began smoothing out the skirt of your dress to hide your reaction. Rock music flickered on throughout the car as the engine turned on, the city lights blurring together as he drove off. Your eyes remained on the passing skyline, refusing to acknowledge how his hand remained on the gearstick, not your thigh like normal. The silence left you stewing in your own thoughts, questions of how you were going to rectify the situation swirling around your drunken brain. His focus remained on the road, his hands now clenched around the steering wheel, your hand crept into his space; jolting at the feeling of your fingers splayed out along the hard muscle of his thigh. They began dancing teasingly around the bulge of his jeans. But instead of adjusting himself, relaxing back into the seat he simply lifted your hand and placed it back in your own lap. Sighing lightly you rested your head against the window getting lost in the swirling lights as they passed.

He finally glanced your way as you shuffled into the elevator, his gaze was intense as he watched you. Your heel-clad feet shuffled against the floor as you swayed slightly - evidence that you weren't quite sobered up yet. Leon's brain was loud with the constant thoughts battling, wondering whether he should continue to ignore you or finally give in and remind you of who you belonged to. His eyes landed on the necklace that dangled above your cleavage. The encrusted diamonds twinkled in the low light of the elevator with each breath you took. He stared at the L, the only symbol of your belonging to him. He supposed he could have put an equally beautiful and expensive ring on your finger - the easiest way for someone to know you were his. But there was no fun in that, he couldn't watch his seed spill out from between your thighs as he finished claiming you. Praying during his observation that this was the load that took, that would soon cause your sweet body to swell with evidence of himself. He felt his cock twitch at the prison it was enclosed in, his hands finding their way into his jacket pocket as he continued to stare at your pretty thighs.

He never thought he wanted children or a wife but after having met you in some dingy bar he rolled into after a hard mission all of that changed. You were sweet and easy - a stark contrast to everything else in his life but once you finally fell in his sheets the grin on his face when he saw finally how you presented yourself so perfectly for him. Your smooth skin against his scarred fingertips felt heavenly, your pretty whines and moans were just the sweetest tunes to him as he would pump his cock deep inside of you. He fell into the role you needed with ease, the age gap was never an issue for him. With you, he got a chance to live, a chance to have all the things that the younger cop inside of him dreamed of. That's why his blood filled with rage when he watched you dancing with his much younger coworker, the man having no idea who you belonged to, not even paying attention the the L that dangled between your breasts.

His body loomed behind you as you unlocked the door to your apartment, you could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath fanning against the back of your neck. Once you had made it inside you turned to face him, to finally demand attention after all these weeks. Even preparing a few tears but his face made you shut off the act almost instantly, his eyes darkening as he glanced at the soft fabric that lay perfectly over your frame. "Bedroom" He finally spoke, his voice low and rough. You slipped the heels off, ignoring their clatter against the floor as you dropped them. Your bare feet slapped against the floor as you made your retreat.

You perched against the edge of the bed, your hand instantly finding comfort in the necklace as you fiddled with it. "So you do know who you belong to then" He spoke as he walked through the door, his back straight and chin held high. You nodded, shame and guilt replacing the alcohol in your system faster than you would have expected. "Come on now darling, you can use your words" He spoke again, his form now slotting himself in between your thighs. His fingers pinched the tip of your chin lightly as he raised your eyes to meet his, smiling at the sorrow that was already displayed in them. "I do" You spoke meekly. Leon finally pressed his lips against your own and you groaned at the taste of him. Your small hands spread out against his thighs; gripping at the fabric. You whimpered as he pulled away, wincing slightly as he pushed your cheeks together and forced your mouth open ready for you to take the spit he drippled into your mouth. "So greedy for Daddy's attention you'll take anything" He whispered, his hands stroking your hair lovingly as he gazed down at you. "Strip" He commanded as he stepped away, the warmth being relaxed with lust and desire as he began watching you intensely.

Your dress pooled at your ankles as you stepped away from the fabric, your underwear still encasing your pretty pussy in a tiny pink bow. Leon swallowed, ignoring his twitching cock practically growling at the sight of your soft skin. He smirked as your dumb eyes followed his finger to the bed, obeying his command without question. He eagerly watched as your breasts bounced as you got comfy, settling yourself against the softness of the sheets below you. He worked on undoing the silky tie that hung around his neck, his shoes clicking against the floor as he approached you. Leon's hands were gentle as he tied the fabric over your eyes, smiling at the way you squirmed slightly as his fingers brushed against the nape of your neck as he pulled away.

Part of him felt bad for leaving you like this, but he was sucked into the world of his own pain he didn't realize how much he had neglected you. He was defiantly going to repay you for all these weeks you had spent with an aching cunt but first, he needed to remind you who's in charge. You could hear him manoeuvring around the room, opening drawers and rummaging for things. Each item landed on the bed with a soft thud. Your fingers smoothed over the silky tie, itching to untie it. "Don't you dare" his voice whispered in your ear. You hadn't even realised he was so close. You fought back a smile as you felt his hands wrap around your wrists bringing them above your head. You felt him tighten the leather cuffs around your wrists holding them in place with a bar in between, the cold leather cooling your heated skin. The bar spread your hands apart at a comfortable distance, the metal clattering against the headboard as you tested the tightness of them. You gasps as Leon gently nipped at your peaked nipples, taking the bud in his mouth and sucking on it. The pads of his fingers ran along your smooth skin, drawing delicate patterns in their wake. He watched as your back arched once he reached your clothed pussy, smirking at the dampness of the gusset.

"My poor baby, all needy for her Daddy" Leon teased as he ran his fingers along the fabric. You whimpered as he retracted the digits to pull the panties down your legs, nipping at the skin along the way. Leon lifted your legs, inserting himself in between them, the small hairs that littered along his thighs tickled your own as he rested them on top. A low buzzing sound filled the room making you jump when the toy he had bought out finally made contact. Leon chuckled lowly as you squirmed away once the bullet made contact with your puffy clit. Normally Leon would warm you up, using the toy along your body, the cold metal leaving goosebumps as it moved across your skin; but not this time. Your breaths began to shorten as your body desperately attempted to adjust to the sudden stream of pleasure that coursed through you. Your lower half became numb with white pleasure as he began to circle the toy around the sensitive nub making sure not to stray too far away from it. He watched carefully at the way your body squirmed, your mouth parting to let out your oh-so-sweet whimpers; paying attention to every small detail ready to pull the pleasure at just the right time.

You tugged against the restraints, your fingers curling into fists desperate to clutch onto something. Leon smirked when he pulled the pleasure away, his cock jumping at the high-pitched whine that left your plump lips. "Daddy-please I'm so sorry" you began to cry, hiding your head into your arm as best you could with them still being suspended above you. Leon's heart broke at the sight of your frustrated tears, wanting nothing more than to treat you to the pleasure you craved and he had neglected to give you. "Sorry for what?" he spoke again, pressing the toy against your clit again. He grinned as you squirmed desperately on the bed. "For dancing with the man" You cried against your arm, the bar clatering again as you fought against them, trying to finally grasp at Leon. "I bought you this necklace so you wouldn't forget baby, but you still did" he teased, his fingers playing with the initial hanging against your chest. You could feel your release creeping in again, your toes curling as your hips bucked up to the pleasure. "I didn't- I still know" You whimpered.

Leon smiled at you, his tip flushed red as it sat proudly against his toned stomach. His pre-cum dribbled steadily down his shaft like he was a teenager again. "I wish you could see what you do to me baby" he spoke, stroking strands of your hair away from your face. He pulled the toy away, smirking at the sound that you released in a fit of frustration. "Please" You begged, tears brimming in your eyes. "I really want to"

Instead, you felt his hand grip at your hips, helping you roll over as he pressed your chest into the mattress arching your back perfectly so he could see your dripping entrance. Leon's body leaned over your own, his weeping tip slotting in between your cheeks; rubbing himself against you as he slowly removed the tie from your eyes. He chuckles at you groan of frustration that even though he has returned your sight you still can't see him yet. Your hands were still spread out in front of you as he began to gather your slick against himself. Eventually, you felt him prodding at your entrance, groaning at the stretch as he slowly entered. Your gummy walls stretched to accommodate his girth. His movements were painfully slow as he began to thrust, his hands loosely grasping at your hips. Your whimpers made him smile as you desperately tried to buck back into him chasing an orgasm you only prayed he finally gave you. "Please...I learnt my lesson I swear" you cried, burying your flushed face into the plush duvet below you. Leon paused, his cock half in your walls; he grinned at the ring of your arousal at the base and the way you tried to impale yourself further on his cock only stopped by his grip tightening.

"I'm going to pump you so full of my seed that it's going to take and show everyone who you belong to" Leon whispered in your ear as he leant back over you. You watched as his fingers began to undo the cuffs, your mind becoming fuzzy from his words, his scent and the fact you were soon going to be able to touch him. Your small brain remembers to wait for his command at least as you watch the leather fall from your wrists. "Good girl, being so obedient for me...just the way I like" he whispered as he finally rose from your back. His praise caused your pussy to clench around the tip of his cock, eliciting a groan from his lips. His hands brought yours around his neck, lifting you against him as he began to thrust upwards. Your fingers instantly wove themselves in the blond strands, hiding your face against his pulse point, enjoying the way his muscles moved against your back. Your mind blocked out the sound of the toy as he began to speed up his pace, moaning loudly when the bullet made contact with your sensitive skin. Leon knew it wouldn't take long for your orgasm to ripple through you, opting for his other hand to tweak and grope one of your perked breasts.

"Look baby" he spoke, bringing your attention to the mirror you hadn't realized he had lined you both up with. Your eyes instantly were glued onto the sight of his cock fucking into you. "I want you to see what I will do to you, watch yourself take my load deep inside this perfect pussy like the good girl you claim to be" he spoke lowly, small grunts leaving his lips as his eyes were also glued onto the sight in front of you both. You met his eyes in the mirror, his darkened stare meeting your own with such lust that you finally felt the release flood through you.

But he didn't stop, his hips never stopping their pace instead increasing as he felt your gummy walls continue to clench around him. His hand left your breast instead finding its way around your neck, a new perfect necklace for you instead of the initial. His brain became fuzzy as he thought of his animalistic desire to breed you. To watch as you swelled with his cum. His balls tightened at the thought of your frame changing, at how beautiful you would blossom to be after what he had done to you. His grip tightened around your neck, and the lack of oxygen caused your brain to become fuzzy as you gazed up at him. Craving to taste his lips.

He met them in a sloppy kiss, his grip loosening slightly as he finally grunted inside you, spilling his warm seed deep inside of you. You both watched as it dribbled out from where you were conjoined. Your chests scyronising as you both caught your breaths. "I'm so sorry Daddy" you whimpered out, the fussiness of your brain finally reducing as you continued to stare at each other in the mirror. "I won't dance with anyone again" Leon smiled, kissing the crown of your head. "Don't worry love, everyone will know who you belong to now" He spoke as his hand fell over your stomach rubbing the soft skin there.

[cherryredstars]

Hi cherry! First of all thank you for your work, your writing has permanently altered my brain chemistry 😳😳 I was wondering if u could write something where Miguel and his ex reunite after a bad breakup, perhaps a few months after (maybe they bump into each other during a party or smth) and as they finally talk both admit that they never managed to move on (like reader went on a few unsuccessful dates, since shes still obsessed with Miguel it has been pointless) they are still in love and they want to make it work this time!!! And since they are back together reader is rlly needy and touchstarved 🥴🥴 she missed him so so much and all,,,,

thx again for feeding my miguel’s hyperfixation!! you are one of my fave authors here ❤️❤️ you deserve the world!!

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Squirting

A/N: Hello and thank you, love 🫶🏼! Enjoy!!

Unedited

Well, this was another disaster.

You’re practically moping at your reflection in the bar’s bathroom. You’ve been hiding in there for more than ten minutes, but you would be surprised if your date- even if he’s not worthy of the small title- has even noticed your absence.

The whole night had been a disaster, right from the very start. Not only had your date been twenty minutes late, but he also failed to so much as greet you for more than 5 seconds before ordering himself a beer and turning his eyes to the small bar TV to watch the old sports rerun from the night before. You would cringe when he loudly reacted to the events on the screen as if it were happening in real time, making the people around you turn to him with perplexed and judgmental looks that made you want to crawl under the bar and out the door. Your attempts to distract him from the game with small talk only turned to him giving half-assed information about himself and him asking if you’re covering the tab for his beers.

What a stellar experience!

You stall in the bathroom a bit longer by being extra delicate in your lip reapplication, all the while whining to yourself in your head about how you could have saved your outfit for a better occasion. With another sigh and a planned excuse to end the night early, you hype yourself up to leave the bathroom and return to your date.

When you open the door, you almost stumble into someone’s chest. You blink in surprise, an apology forming on your lips as you slowly lift your head up. The words instantly shrivel up and die when you meet familiar red tinted eyes, the air in your lungs suspending.

Miguel, sporting his usual grumpy look, instantly softens as he meets your eyes. He seems to take you in, like your the first sign of water since taking a cruel journey through the desert. The look alone is enough for your heart to go into overdrive

Despite the sudden dryness in your throat, you manage a small smile, “Hi.”

The one word is soft, almost tentative. It makes something in Miguel crave more. He’s been wanting more the moment the two of you broke up, the reason stupid after a few months apart.

He returns the smile, hands going to his pockets to fight off the temptation to grab you and never let you go, “Hi, I like the dress.”

Your eyes instantly fall down to take in your outfit, cheeks blazing from the compliment. Your fingers play with the hem of the skirt, a bashful thank you bubbling from your lips. It makes Miguel’s smile just slightly larger as your eyes hesitantly meet his again.

A silence fills the space, both of you caught up on things you could- should- say to each other. The silence begins to grow awkward, and Miguel finds it to be the perfect opportunity to slowly reach his hand out.

He means to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but the pounding in his chest makes him miscalculate slightly and instead skims the apple of your cheek. The touch shoots rapid jolts of electricity down your spine, awakening your nerves from a long hibernation. Your hand desperately grabs at his wrist, trying to keep his hand in place. Then suddenly, everything is fast forwarded.

Your lips crash together in a hungry, desperate urge to be closer. Your bodies pushing against each other until your smaller body is pushed back through the bathroom door, the lock faintly clicking behind the two of you as you’re lifted up and placed onto the counter. Your hands exploring inches of skin that you still know like it’s your own. Refamilarising yourself with every bulge of muscle and every dip.

Despite the vicious need to have you naked against him, for your skin to press against his and swap a cycle of warmth, Miguel grits his teeth and restrains for ripping clothes off of your body. This place is filthy, and he doesn’t want to tarnish your skin. Instead, his hand slips under the hem of your dress, pressing into the soaked spot growing in the fabric of your panties.

Your body bristles from the contact, your sex burning hot and throbbing. You squirm, your body already begging for more. Miguel reads you instantly, slipping his fingers under the fabric until he grazes your twitchy clit and reaches your leaking hole. He circles his fingers around the wet entrance, lubricating his fingers with your arousal before slowly pushing them in.

A low whine escapes you, your walls clamping down hard around his fingers. Miguel hisses at the vice grip you have on him, his thumb attempting to relax you by circling your clit. It makes you whine more, practically squirming on his hand.

Miguel buries his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at the column of skin, “Fuck baby, you’re so sensitive.”

You can only sniffle in response, your mind zeroing in on the slow curling of Miguel’s fingers. Your eyes are half lidded and hazy, small moans leaving your lips as the tips of his fingers press into the gummy spot inside of you. The pleasure grows quickly, pent up sexual frustration from dates you wouldn’t even let into your home and late nights at work to distract yourself from the ache in your heart unleashing and flowing down Miguel’s wrist.

With a combination of thrusting and curling, your body spasms with a choked moan as you collapse against him. He can feel the gush of your release spray against his hand, creating wet squelches as he continues to work you through it. Clear drops landing on the counter eventually begin to form a small puddle under you as your panties become completely soaked through.

You’re fighting for breath once you come down from your high, mind foggy and stuck in a state of bliss. Miguel slowly pulls his fingers out, his entire palm soaked with clear arousal. A stray drop runs down his arm, and he’s quick to catch it with his tongue. He almost comes in his pants as the sweet taste explodes in his mouth, making him hungry for more. He fights the urge for now, promising himself it’ll come with time before grabbing napkins from the dispenser and cleaning the inside of your thighs and the puddle under you.

He slowly pulls your soaked underwear down, recognizing the flash of discomfort that comes over your face as you come back to earth, stuffing the fabric in his pocket before helping you down onto your shaky feet. You hold onto his arm tightly feeling as if you’re trying to balance on jello, and Miguel wraps an arm around your waist to stabilize you. Your breath is still slightly irregular, and you take the moment to close your eyes and lean your head against his chest. You can hear the pace of his heart, not a bit surprised that it mimics yours.

“Come home with me.”

You smile into his chest, humming.

Like he even had to ask.

[drabbles-mc]

We Were Just Leaving

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut (protected p in v), language, alcohol, strangers to lovers

For Week 2 of Hot Bucky Summer: "What should I call you?"

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: my first time ever writing smut for bucky. it truly is a Hot Bucky Summer! 😂 biggest thanks to @buckybarnesevents for putting on this event! endless appreciation for all of your hard work 💞 maybe i'll write more for these two in this event if another prompt strikes inspo for them 👀

Going out on your own to get a drink and decompress after a long week had sounded like a great idea until about three minutes ago. Ever since then you’d been silently kicking and cursing yourself for not taking up your coworkers on their Happy Hour offer. The last thing you’d wanted to do after the way your week had gone was socialize, even with coworkers that you generally liked and got along with.

But now that seemed like the greatest thing in the world compared to the situation you were about to find yourself in. Theo from the finance department and his same half a dozen jokes seemed like a dream to be across a table from compared to your ex who had just walked through the door of the bar you were at.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

You had less than a couple minutes to try and scamper out before he saw you. And the only reason you had that kind of time at all was because the bar was busy and it would take longer to spot you in the midst of everyone. But the second that your ex got up to the bar with his buddies to order drinks, your cover would be blown.

You dug some cash out of your purse, tossing enough onto the top of the bar to cover the one drink you’d ordered so far and the tip for the bartender. You were zipping your bag back up as you were hopping off the stool that you’d been sitting on. Your eyes were fixed on your purse, frustrated that this was the one time that the zipper decided to jam. The whole time you were straining your ear to make sure that you could hear how close your ex was, trying to hear his voice or his laughter.

“Fuck,” you were trying to weave your way through the crowd but the clusters and groups of friends all lingering and waiting for their chance to slink up to the bar and order were all packed tightly. You didn’t remember when this spot became a popular place to be. You huffed, trying to say, “Excuse me,” loud enough for people to hear you but not so loud that it came across as rude or drew any real attention to you.

A pocket of space opened up and you were more relieved than you should’ve been. Clutching your bag tight to you, you took long, measured strides to try and slip through the small groups of people that had parted ways just enough for you to sneak through. You were almost to the other side of them, almost out of what would be an easy range for your ex to see you, when someone took a step backwards as they laughed and inadvertently bumped right into you.

The fact that it was an accident did nothing to soothe your nerves. Them stepping back sent you stumbling mid-stride and bumping right into someone sitting at one of the few small high-top tables that the bar had scattered around. You felt a hand on your back and the heat flaring up in your face and you were already sputtering out five different apologies at once before you’d even fully turned around to face the person you’d bumped into.

When you looked at his face, all the words stopped cascading past your lips. Still white-knuckling your purse, still feeling like your face and throat were on fire from embarrassment, you found yourself incapable of looking anywhere but at the icy blue eyes staring back at you.

He didn’t look happy about you bumping into him, per se, but he didn’t look as angry or annoyed as other people in the bar might’ve been. No drinks were spilled in the process, which was a bonus. He raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked at you, but his expression was otherwise neutral.

“S-sorry,” you finally forced out, clear but still uncertain.

He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay.” You nodded, knowing that you should be forcing your feet to carry you away, but you were locked in place.

His eyebrows went from raised to pinched together. Apparently, he took your hesitancy to leave as you not believing his simple reassurance. “Really,” he emphasized with a small nod, “it’s fine. You can go—seemed like you were in a rush anyway.”

Your eyes widened slightly at that, the full scope of the situation coming back to you. You cleared your throat. “Right. Thanks. Thank you. Sorry. I’m just gonna—” you were halfway to motioning over your shoulder when a vaguely familiar voice blared like an airhorn in your ear.

“Well look who it is!”

Turning to look over your shoulder, your stomach dropped. It wasn’t your ex, but you knew that he was going to run right back to your ex and tell him that you were here. Even if you tried to bolt it wasn’t going to do you any good. You were in it now.

“Hey,” you said, keeping it short, trying to make your tone as unenthusiastic as possible.

“Oh, Ricky’s gonna be stoked that you’re—”

“I was just—”

He waved you off. “Wait right here—I’ll go grab him.”

“Don’t—” It didn’t matter what you were going to say next because he was already taking back off towards the bar. You let out a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

You’d nearly forgotten the man stuck in the middle of all this until he spoke up again. “So, who’s Ricky?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice despite the fact that his expression hadn’t changed much at all.

You shook your head. “Whatever you’re already thinking, just go with that,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Rough.”

You had to laugh at the simple response. “Yeah. That’s why I was, you know,” you gestured vaguely towards the door that you had previously been trying to get to as quickly as possible.

You shook your head again, unable to do anything else. Each second that passed you could feel the anxious jitters building. You had no interest in talking to him ever again, and you knew that if he started talking to you, it was going to be nearly impossible to get out of it. That’s just how he was. You were so deep in thought and oncoming panic that you hadn’t noticed the way you were gnawing the inside of your lip until you felt a slight sting from it.

Turning to look at the man who hadn’t asked for any of this, you said, “You don’t owe me a favor, but do you think you could still do one for me?”

He shook his head, “I’m not gonna beat up—”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. “No, no. I mean, I bet you could. But just, can you pretend that we were here together and that we were leaving? I just, I need an exit strategy.”

“What, you want me to pretend to be your new boyfriend so your old one will leave you alone?”

“You don’t have to be my boyfriend. Just, be some friend that wanted to grab a drink with me. And get me the fuck out of here. Please.”

The pause that ensued didn’t give you anything resembling hope. But he must’ve taken just enough pity on you because his shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

Relief coursed through you even though you were nowhere near through this exchange yet. “Thank you.”

“What should I call you?” he asked.

You gave him a confused look. “My…my name, I guess?”

Your face and the tone of your response had him feeling whatever embarrassment you’d been battling with earlier when you bumped into him. He saw it all over your face then, and he was certain that you could see it all over his face now. The whole situation was much simpler about sixty seconds ago when you were the more flustered one in the scenario. Now he was the one in uncertain territory. He didn’t know why he asked it like that, but it was what had come out of his mouth when he tried to ask you for your name. It crossed his mind for a moment that maybe you’d bumped into the wrong person to get you out of this mess but it was too late now.

“Yeah. Um, enlighten me?” The laugh that you let out at that wasn’t a cruel one, which was the only reason he didn’t double-down on his embarrassment. You were amused, perhaps even a little relieved. After all, you could’ve just told him your name in response to his first question. As it stood, you told him now and he nodded. “Right.”

You figured you should know his too. “What’s—”

You didn’t get to finish the question let alone get the answer before your ex and his friend reappeared in front of you. They each had a drink in their hand and smug smiles on their faces. The reality of what had you asking ridiculous favors of a stranger you’d only known for about five minutes suddenly crashed down over you again. The knot in your stomach was back with a vengeance as you looked at the man in front of you, knowing that he was feeling none of the dread that you currently were.

“I didn’t believe it when he told me,” Ricky spoke up, nodding in the direction of his friend. “Thought you were still avoiding me.”

You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. “I tried to tell him that we were just taking off,” you replied, hating how defeated you sounded.

The smug look on your ex’s face disappeared instantly when he heard the word we. It was only then that he realized you were standing right next to a man. A man whose name you still didn’t know but he didn’t know that part.

“We?” Ricky repeated. “Well, care to introduce us?”

You tried not to let your panic show on your face. At this point you were ready to just give this random stranger you’d met in a bar an equally random name and apologize for it later. You barely registered the sound of his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it away from the table and stood himself up from it.

Fighting the uncertainty out of your voice, you said, “This is—”

He cut you off by putting himself between you and Ricky, holding his hand out for the man to shake in the process. “James,” he said as he nonchalantly slipped his free hand into yours. It wasn’t a gesture you’d been expecting, but you weren’t going to go against it either. There was something reassuring about the callouses of his palm against your skin as he threaded your fingers together. When he broke off the handshake with your ex, he gave a small tilt of his head and said, “Ricky, right?”

You knew that you weren’t doing a good job at all at hiding the pleased and surprised look on your face. The feeling only intensified when you saw the way it through Ricky completely off-kilter, whatever hand he had been planning on playing now no longer available to him.

He cleared his throat, and you noticed the way he adjusted, tightened his grip on the glass he was holding. He tried to recover from the temporary upset. “So, you’ve heard about me, then?” he asked, the look on his face letting you know that he considered it to be a good thing.

You were rolling your eyes and about to come back with something when James beat you to the punch. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

You tried to suppress the smile that wanted to take over your face but you weren’t sure if you did. You found yourself giving James’s hand a light squeeze, instinctively placing your other hand in the center of his back.

Ricky was trying to sputter out a response and James didn’t let him get a single coherent word out. “Like she said,” he gave you a small, gentle nudge towards the door, “we were just leaving.”

“I—”

James was already turning around and taking off towards the door. He called back over his shoulder, more nonchalant than your ex could ever hope to be, “Nice meeting you, Ricky.”

You were glad that the music and general chatter of the bar was hiding the sound of your laughter as the two of you made your way towards the door. Navigating the crowds was so much easier when you were attached to a man built the way that he was—funny how that seemed to work. The two of you were able to quickly maneuver your way to and out the door.

There was no better sound in the world to you than your boots hitting the concrete sidewalk outside the bar. The relief of being out of there was more than you were able to say in the moment, so instead you just kept laughing as you instinctively headed in the direction on the sidewalk that would eventually lead back to your apartment.

In that moment, there was no better sound in the world to James than the sound of you laughing. You were thanking him as the two of you walked away, and he was content to follow you under the guise of being committed to the little ruse you’d put together, to getting you far enough away from the bar to be considered out of the danger zone. He wondered if you, in the midst of your relief, even noticed that you were still holding onto his hand. He certainly still noticed.

You stopped suddenly and turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” you gasped.

He looked over his shoulder, expecting your reaction to be because your ex had followed the two of you, or something similar. “What?”

You gestured back towards the bar. “Your drink! We didn’t pay—”

His laughter stopped you short. Shaking his head he said, “I was paid up.”

Your shock and tension both disappeared. “Oh. Okay.” It was then that you realized you were still holding his hand. You let go immediately, face warm as you let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The two of you stood on the sidewalk, a few inches separating you as you faced each other. “So,” you started, the awkwardness that had previously disappeared rearing its head again, “James your real name or just something you made up so my ex can’t stalk you on Facebook or something?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t have Facebook. But yeah, it’s my real name. You,” he cracked a tiny grin, “you can call me Bucky, though.”

You smiled. “Bucky? That, you know, that what I should call you?” you joked.

He laughed, head tilting back slightly as did. He felt the way his face heated up at that and he just hoped that it was dark enough outside to hide the fact that he was probably blushing. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand on the outside of his bicep for all of a moment, not that it stopped him from being able to feel the warmth of your palm through the blue fabric of his henley. “Well, thank you, Bucky. I appreciate it. Sorry if I totally ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” he said with no hesitation. “Sorry that your ex ruined yours.”

You shrugged, feeling the way that your lips were slowly tugging up into a smile. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Do you have plans right now?” Bucky asked, unsure of where the question came from or how it got out past his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I was just planning on going home. Why? Have better plans in mind?”

It took him no time at all to realize that he’d walked himself into this with no idea where he was going with it. He knew that he had a decent poker face but even so he had a feeling you could read him like a book in that moment. And he definitely wasn’t reading like a mystery novel.

“I didn’t know if…you know…” he trailed off for a moment, “Wanna get…coffee? Or something?”

You chuckled and gave a small shrug. “Sure. Coffee sounds good.” You started to walk. “Or something.”

He quickly strode to catch up with you. “Got a place in mind?”

You laughed as you looked over at him. “Well, it didn’t seem like you did.”

It could’ve been a much more embarrassing call out if there hadn’t been such a warm look in your eyes. The only thing that he could think to do in the moment was follow you, so that was exactly what he did.

You couldn’t remember the last time that an invitation for a simple cup of coffee had suddenly caused an entire night to slip by. You didn’t even end up drinking all your coffee, too wrapped up in the conversation that you were having with Bucky. Funny that at the start of your evening you’d figured that a night alone was what you’d been needing, and yet sitting across from Bucky at a little café table, going wherever the conversation strayed to, left you feeling better than any number of nights by yourself at a bar or at home.

Bucky was fairly certain that he could talk to you all the way until the sun came back up again. He was also fairly certain that that fact had nothing to do with the caffeine from the coffee he’d had. His cup was empty, but he still found himself toying with it in his hands as the two of you talked. He didn’t know when the last time he got coffee with someone was. At least, someone who wasn’t Steve or Sam or Nat. This felt so foreign and new, yet there was something so familiar about you.

The pair of young twenty-somethings who were working at the coffee shop didn’t exactly tell you both to leave, didn’t exactly kick you out. But you both noticed the way that they were starting to wipe down the counter and tables and you knew better than to be the people who stayed right up until the last minute. Even though this time, you really wanted to. Getting a few more minutes with Bucky almost seemed worth it.

When the two of you were back out on the sidewalk once more, you turned to face him. The jitters you’d had when you left the bar hours before were gone, but there was a new feeling in its place. Similar but different. More excitement, more curiosity, more hope. You didn’t know what to do about it, though, didn’t know what to say to articulate those feelings.

“Well,” you finally said with a soft laugh, “now I really took up your whole night.”

The smile that Bucky gave you was charming enough to nearly have your knees knocking together. “Not the whole night.”

You hummed in amusement. “Then I’ll let you go before it turns into that.”

He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You’re alright getting home?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’m only a couple blocks away.”

“I can walk you,” he offered.

You should’ve hesitated at least a little bit, but you didn’t. “That’d be nice.”

The two of you fell into stride beside each other. The first little stint was silent, but not uncomfortably so. You couldn’t speak for Bucky, but you knew that you were trying to figure out what was going to happen when you made it to the main door of your apartment building. You also knew, though, that no amount of overthinking it now was going to make it any easier to navigate then. So, you did what the two of you had been doing successfully for the last few hours, and picked a new topic out of thin air to talk about.

By the time you reached your building, you were walking so close to Bucky that your arm was practically pressed against his. He didn’t seem to mind—it wasn’t as though he was trying to pull away. Every now and then when you laughed, you’d give him a playful little bump, shoulder to shoulder, and Bucky had to fight the urge to drape his arm around you and pull you closer.

Stopping in front of one of the many tall brick buildings on the block, you nodded towards the door before opening your purse to find your keys. “This is me.”

Even though you’d hold him that you were only a couple of blocks away from the café, he still found himself surprised at how quickly you’d arrived. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that the evening was over so soon. Never mind the fact that the evening had started hours ago, and completely on accident.

It took him a couple seconds longer than it should’ve to realize he was supposed to be saying something to you. “Oh,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment show, “okay.”

You were smiling as your eyes stayed trained on your purse, still fishing around for your keys. “Thank you for, well, all of it I guess,” you punctuated your sentence with a laugh.

He smiled warmly at you even though you weren’t looking at him yet. “No problem.”

“Ah,” you said as you finally found your keyring. You never thought your purse was all that large and yet you never seemed to find what you needed when you needed it. “Right. Well, I’d, um,” you stammered, wanting to ask and say about twenty different things and unable to decide on a single one of them. Taking a breath to get yourself together, you said, “I had a really good time, despite how all of this started,” you laughed for a moment and so did he, “and it’d be, I don’t know, I’d like to see you again…” you trailed off even though you didn’t mean to.

He smiled, relief and excitement battling it out in his chest. “I’d like that.”

Without giving it a second thought, he pulled out his phone and gave it to you, fumbling his way through asking you for your number. He would’ve been more self-conscious about his lack of grace with it if you hadn’t seemed so eager to type in your name and number.

You held his phone back out to him. “So, yeah, let me know when you’re free.”

He reached to take it back from you. There was the briefest moment of hesitation before you let his phone go, one that got him to look up from where your hands were nearly touching and into your eyes. You let go of his phone, and he slipped it back into the pocket of his jeans, but neither of you took your eyes off the other. Bucky couldn’t help but to notice the way that your teeth pulled just slightly at your bottom lip. He found himself opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He could’ve let it all die out there, or he could’ve let himself succumb to the nerves of not being able to conjure up something to say, but instead he found himself choosing a third option that he hadn’t even thought was available to him.

Stepping in and closing the tiny strip of space left between you, Bucky pressed his lips to yours. It was gentle, and brief. He pulled away when you’d barely gotten past the shock of him kissing you at all. You saw the way his eyes were searching yours, looking for the cue to either get lost or come back for more. The moment of silence terrified him, almost had him sputtering out an apology.

Then you closed the gap and kissed him again. A little more conviction, a palm resting against his chest. It was a minor miracle that you hadn’t dropped your keys to the ground as he kissed you back. His hand came up and cupped your cheek, palm warm against you despite the chilly night air.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t hide that it’d left you a little breathless. His hand was still cupping your face and it had you smiling wide enough to make your cheeks ache. Fidgeting with the keys in your hand, you forced yourself to speak. You purposely ignored how soft and breathy your voice was.

“You can come up if you want,” you offered.

You were just far enough away from him to see the surprise that crossed his features. “Yeah?”

You nodded, keenly aware of the way his hand felt on your face as you did. “Yeah.”

The slowness of the elevator in your apartment building was usually something that served to be a mild annoyance for you. However, this time, you wished that it would’ve taken longer to climb up to the fifth floor where your apartment was. Hell, you would’ve been fine if it had gotten stuck if it meant you had a few more moments with Bucky keeping you pressed against the wall, his lips capturing yours over and over again.

It was the singular chime that broke the two of you apart, the alert that you’d arrived at your floor. The walk from the elevator door to your apartment door was a short one but it felt tragically long when you had Bucky behind you with his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. You had no idea how you managed to get your key into the lock so that the two of you could get inside, but you did it.

You closed and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Out of habit you reached and flicked the lights on. Bucky still had one hand on the small of your back, using the other to deftly undo the laces on his boots so he could toe them off beside your door where the rest of your shoes had been tossed haphazardly as the weeks had passed by.

You’d hardly dropped your purse and keys off when he was pressed up against you again, his chest flush against your back. You sucked in a tiny gasp as your body melted back into him. You wanted to say something but the second he was pulling the collar of your shirt to the side and pressing his lips to your shoulders, whatever pleasantries you’d been thinking of went completely out the window.

 Even though you knew your apartment like the back of your hand, had navigated through it in the dark and after nights out when you had more than a few drinks, you nearly found yourself stumbling as you walked through the lit-up room with Bucky attached to you.

Once the two of you were in your bedroom, Bucky put his hands on your hips and spun you around so that you were facing him. He wasted no time as he leaned in and kissed your lips, like the few minutes of being unable to had been hours instead. His hands trailed their way up to your face, palms warm and rough to the touch all at once. Keeping his lips on yours, he walked you back towards your bed. You were reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt just as the backs of your legs pressed against the side of your mattress.

Bucky indulged you, assisting you in peeling his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. Any time that you would’ve spent standing there gawking at him was quickly stolen away as he pressed himself close to you again, firmly but gently getting you back onto the bed.

Every movement felt like it fed so easily into the next. The pair of you were nothing but wandering hands and ragged breaths as you stripped the clothes off each other. The floor was littered with them but neither of you cared. Bucky was down to his boxers, you your bra and panties. He had you pinned underneath him but it didn’t stop his hands from roaming everywhere they could. They wandered across your stomach, up and down your thighs, grazing over your chest. Every touch and graze had you pressing yourself into him more and more, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you let out little whines and whimpers of encouragement.

You could feel the effect that it had on him. No amount of wanting to feel every inch of you underneath his fingertips could stop him from grinding his hips against yours. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had him feeling so desperate so quickly—he didn’t know if there ever had been a last time.

Like you could hear his thoughts, Bucky felt your fingers curling over the edge of the waistband of his boxers. You started pushing them down his hips and Bucky had no intention of stopping you. He quickly kicked them off the rest of the way before his fingertips dragged down your stomach until they slipped underneath the waistband of your panties. The lightest brush of his fingers had you bucking into his hand and whatever plans he’d had to drag this out no longer mattered. He easily pulled the flimsy fabric down your legs, making quick work of it as you lifted your legs to help.

It took every last shred of Bucky’s self-control to not just slip right into you. The way you had your legs wrapped around his waist would’ve made it so easy to do. He kissed you, neediness bleeding from his lips to yours as his hands continued to trace lines up and down your thighs.

 “Do you have—” Pulling away just enough so that your lips weren’t touching anymore, but not so much that you couldn’t feel his breath on your skin as he spoke. He managed to get out half the question he had before you cut him off.

“Top drawer,” you answered, already knowing where it was going.

The chuckle he let out got a smile out of you. The awkwardness and discomfort that occasionally accompanied first-time hookups was nowhere to be found. He pressed a brisk kiss to your lips before leaning and reaching over for the handle of the top drawer of your nightstand. You took advantage of the momentary position of vulnerability that he was in, lifting your head to kiss and then suck a mark where his neck met his shoulder. You heard the groan he let out, but more than that you could feel it as you kept your lips pressed there.

Him quickly tearing the foil of the condom with his teeth shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and yet you found yourself staring. He caught it, too, and the smirk on his face would’ve made your knees week if you’d been standing rather than on your back beneath him.

You watched him roll the condom on, biting down so hard on your lip you were surprised that you didn’t draw blood. Your eyes slowly traveled their way back up his torso until you were looking into his. The eagerness, the tension in his body could be felt in all the places the two of you were connected. Even so, he still waited for one more yes from you.

The yes he was waiting for came in the form of you putting your hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss, in the way you wrapped your legs a little tighter around him and pulled him in closer to you. You felt the way that he instantly gave in, slowly pushing into you as you moaned into his mouth at the sensation. You felt the way that he smiled into your kiss as your nails bit down into the flesh of his neck and shoulder.

“Fuck,” he rasped out, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. He took a moment to revel in it, the feeling of being buried into you so that his hips were flush against yours.

Moving your hand from the back of his neck so that it was cupping his chin, you pulled him back into another kiss. You felt each little hum and moan that he let out as he started to thrust into you, his arms on either side of your head caging you in. He kept himself pressed tightly to you, leaving your hands to wander the broad, muscular expanse of his back. The way you moaned his name, the moments when you’d rake your nails down his back, let him know that he was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

He peeled himself off you, separating his chest from yours. You longed for the contact as soon as it was gone, but before you could think too much on it, he moved one of your legs so that it was draped over his shoulder. When he picked up his rhythm once more, you were grabbing onto his hips before you even knew what you were doing, begging him not to stop like he’d ever even dream of that in the first place.

Your leg was starting to tremble against his shoulder. Instinctively he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your calf as he continued to thrust into you. Your grip on him tightened as you breathlessly moaned, “Just like that.”

A few more thrusts just like that and you were coming undone around him. He soaked in every moment of it, the feeling of you, the way you cried out his name, the way your body arched and tensed before going pliant.

He was chasing right after you, after that same high. He was nearly there and the soft, needy way you whined out, “Bucky,” in the waves of aftershock sent him clean over the edge. His hips stuttered as he came, your name tumbling from his lips. He collapsed against you, face buried in the crook of your neck as your legs went back to looping around his waist, keeping him pulled tight and still inside you.

You weren’t sure if it was your own heartbeat that you were feeling thudding in your chest or his, but you supposed it didn’t matter. Both of you were fighting to catch your breath, bodies practically melting into each other’s. You wrapped your arms around him, hands gentle on his back where just minutes before you’d been digging your nails into the cords of muscle there. He kissed the column of your throat, the little bit of stubble that was growing in feeling extra ticklish in your sensitive state, enough to get you to giggle and twitch at the sensation.

Once he’d gotten a little bit of his breath back, he propped himself up enough to look at you properly. “You okay?”

You laughed, unable to do anything else but that and nod for a moment. Finally, you said, “I’m great, yeah.” It got a chuckle out of him as you reached and trailed your fingertips down his cheek. “You okay?”

He nodded before leaning in and kissing you. “I’m great.” A few more moments passed in comfortable silence, the two of you just taking in the sight and state of each other. You noticed the small shifts in his expression, and you waited for whatever was coming next. “Um,” he looked over towards the door of your bedroom, “where’s your…so I can…”

You laughed, head dropping back against your pillow. “Out the door and to the left.”

He chuckled, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll be, you know, right back.”

You afforded him the illusion of privacy as he searched and grabbed his boxers off the floor and scampered off to your bathroom. You chuckled as you managed to get yourself out of bed, making your way over to your dresser on wobbly legs to you could grab your own shirt to sleep in. You were back in bed and under the covers by the time Bucky came back.

When he got back to your bedside, he reached down and grabbed his shirt off the floor. He didn’t make an immediate move to put it on, instead just holding it loosely in his hand. “I can—”

“Stay,” you didn’t even want him to put the idea of leaving out into the universe. Not after the night the two of you had just had. “I mean,” you laughed softly, “if you want. I’d like that.”

There was no hesitation as he dropped his shirt to the ground. “Okay.”

He easily shimmied down underneath the covers beside you. You curled into him, allowing his arm to slip beneath you and pull you tighter so that your head was resting on his chest. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the thrumming of his heartbeat. You also started to feel not just the tiredness in your muscles from everything that had just happened, but also the exhaustion of how late it was now.

The same tiredness was present in Bucky’s voice as he spoke, words partially mumbled as he spoke them into your hair. “Light’s still on out there.”

“Leave it,” you replied words equally mumbled as you said them with your lips partially pressed against his chest. “I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

The hum of amusement that he made let you know that he wasn’t going to worry about it now either. Draping his other arm around you, he slipped his hand underneath your shirt so that his hand was splayed across the center of your back and keeping you tight to him. Nestling farther into him, you rested your palm on his chest as you finally let yourself start drifting off to sleep.

(divider by @saradika-graphics 💞)

MCU Taglist: @garbinge @beardburnsupersoldiers @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists please let me know! xo)

[austinbutlerslovers]

Bucked & Fxcked

Label Mature 18+

Finding out there is a military deployment party at the live music hall across from your college immediately entices you and your room mate. Bored with college boys you each excitedly plan to snag and shag a handsome soldier for the night, but when you lay eyes on two of the most handsome and suave majors you have ever seen in your life you can’t decide which one you want more. They both tease and seduce you in ways that get you so hot between the legs you flirtatiously admit you wish you could have both.

Upon hearing your words and realizing they won't get an opportunity like this with such a beautiful dame again they come to an agreement, they'll share you. They bring you back to their base in one of the Majors offices locking the door and double tapping you with pleasure the entire night.

No established relationship

Groping•objectification•degradation •fingering• biting• gspot fem •nippleplay •clitplay•restraint •threesome•oral sex m/f• P in V •sex on a desk• oral sex f/m• multiple orgasms •simultaneous orgasms•squirting • bukkake (2 males ejaculate on female )• cum eating• after care

Inspo: needing to be Fxcked by both Bucks 🥵

~*Bucked & Fxcked*~

You and your room mate get dressed in form fitting low cut tops and A-line skirts putting on lip stick and heavy mascara before leaving the dorms at 7:30 in the evening.

You are taking the half mile walk together with dozens of other girls from the college campus to have some fun at the live music dance hall.

All the girls are in their prettiest dresses giggling excitedly walking arm in arm gossiping because a platoon of soldiers will be there for a special military event dancing the night away before they deploy.

You and your room mate have already had quite the sexual experiences sneaking college boys into your dorm room after midnight for quick romps going through the roster never feeling completely satisfied.

You were both very excited to try something daring and new.

As you approach the establishment you hear the swing music getting louder. People surround the well lit dance hall talking, laughing, some coupled up already kissing. You see cars parked in the distance with couples inside making out.

You nudge your room mate pointing it out to her and she smiles mischievously, you both thinking the same thing, it's the pure debauchery you are expecting. The double doors to the dance hall swing open as a couple walks out arm in arm the music is blaring and there is a surge of excitement in the air as you enter.

The space is enormous red white and blue fan fare hanging everywhere. American flags stars and stripes draped colorfully on full display every where you look.

The dance hall is so loud, the brass band is deafening as you look to the players on stage. The floor is packed with a sea of men in green and brown uniforms holding colorfully dressed young ladies giggling, swirling, dipping, twirling, its orchestrated chaos. They nearly miss colliding with each other doing dangerous and provocative dance moves dizzy with excitement and booze.

You are so excited in this environment until your friend is immediately swept away by a handsome soldier who smiles at her twirls her and pulls her onto the dance floor with him. You smile at each other as she giddily waves farewell.

You head to the bar feeling your mood dip without her, she got swept up so quickly, you want to see if you can bump into anyone else you know from campus as you make your way through a crowd of dancers near the blaring trumpets being played on stage.

You are stopped in your tracks by a pair of dancers almost knocking into you, just as they clear your path, your eyes lock onto two of the most dreamily handsome Majors you've ever seen in your life.

They are standing with their elbows rested on the high tables in the drinking area near the bar. They are overlooking all the actions of the lower ranks.

Your gaze must have lingered a little too long because they both look over at you and make eye contact smiling so gorgeously you are shocked and wave politely.

One is a tall blonde with a gorgeous face, plump lips, strong jaw, perfect nose, and big blue eyes. The other is a towering brunette with a handsome face, broad nose, full lips, angular chin, and flirty blue eyes.

Your heart begins pouding as they wave back. The brunette making the signal he wants to meet you at the same time the blonde points to you to gesturing hes coming over. You laugh to yourself in shock as they both head your direction.

It's probably the sexiest thing to have two handsome men walk across a room and approach you. They are taller than you expected, you look up to them when they are standing directly in-front of you. They both smile at you making you blush, they are so clean cut and neat, they smell amazing.

When they try to speak to you over the music they begin laughing unable to get their words across you are all too close to the stage and can't hear a thing with the saxophone blaring. Finally the blonde leans into your ear "Come to a table it's quieter" he says holding your gaze nodding and gesturing you to come, you nod smiling and follow them.

They pick a table at the back corner farthest from the stage in a more secluded area.

Once you all settle down the music is at a manageable level and you can finally hear each other speak. "Hi!" you say cheerfully just happy to look at their handsome faces up close.

They each take a turn shaking your hand " I'm Gale" says the blonde "Im John" says the brunette, their eyes full of attraction as they stare at you.

"The boys call me Buck and him Bucky not to confuse you, the nick names are a long story" Gale says and looks at John to confirm but hes too busy giving you the dreamy eyes. Gale smacks him lightly on the chest for staring at you like that.

John snaps out of being mesmerized by your beauty and flashes you his normal pretty smile his flirty eyes still making you blush, heat creeping up your neck as you smile back politely.

Gale just shoots John a knowing look, it's the night before deployment so there is only one thing on all the men's minds at the dance hall, securing a girl for the night and now he and John are both set on the same one, you.

"Can we get you anything to eat or drink?" Gale asks politely as John rubs his fingers across his lips and chin admiring you. "Oh no l'm fine I'm actually a student at the college so they feed us supper every night, and seeing its Friday my friend said all the military were having a deployment party here so we wanted to get out and have some fun." You smile innocently and look away hiding your lustier intentions.

John rests his elbow on the table covering his mouth he turns away from you hiding his smile thinking you are so naive coming to a bar full of sexually deprived soldiers for fun looking this good.

"Well where is your friend?" Gale asks perking up thinking maybe he can introduce John to her and secure you for himself because you are clearly the most stunning girl they've both ever seen and he doesn't want to compete with John the entire night.

You scan across the dance floor and spot her just as the solider from earlier is holding her with both hands twirling her around panties flashing as he dips her.

"There she is, and wow that soldier is a really good dancer!" you say excitedly.

Gale and John shoot looks at each other knowing shes dancing with the number one play boy on the base before John blurts out "Yea she's not coming back to the dorm tonight!" and they both burst into laughter.

Your face flushes a little hot from them making fun but you remain calm and you show some assertiveness

"Well that's the plan gentlemen we don't want to go back to our dorm tonight" you retort and they both fall slack jawed.

"You don't say" Gale says in amusement, his eyes flashing attraction now as he looks at you. "What are they teaching you young ladies in college these days now anyway?" He asks intrigued, his voice turns sultry.

You feel the heat rising in your core as he locks in on your sexual deviancy wanting to know more. You look away hiding your sudden shyness as you answer "All sorts of things" your voice softer feeling you've just admitted to all the sex you've been having. "Is that so?" he says leaning closer staring at you so intently you return your eyes back to his. John clears his throat to interrupt the sexual tension and blocks Gales advances by speaking up.

"Well if you're not going back to your dorm, and you are planning to leave here with one of these fine gentlemen." He says extending his arms to show just how many you have to chose from in the dance hall before continuing "Which one are you choosing to leave with?" He asks with intent, his eyes full of all his hidden thoughts about you as he smiles.

When you smile back at John and then Gale, your face flushes as you feel the heat creep up your neck again.

You bite your lower lip trying to regain composure.

He and Gale flash each other looks, they've been serving in the military together long enough to be synchronized communicating with just a glance or a gesture. They have both decided it is now a competition. They sit back looking debonaire and cool awaiting your answer of who is the victor.

"If I had to chose one?" You say scrunching your nose cutely uncertain of which one you want more. You feel the arousal pooling between your legs as they both stare at you so seductively.

You decide to play with them "I wish I could have you both" you admit flirtatiously. Their faces look shocked making you giggle. "Both? " Gale says stunned. John looks around in disbelief holding back his laugh that you couldn't decide. "Yea just for one night" you say nonchalantly actually really liking the idea now seeing how competitive they are, all the attention would be on you.

Gale and John look at each other as they realize you are serious. Then it sets in that you really aren't going to choose and that they'll never have an opportunity like this with a beautiful dame like you again. "Would you excuse us just one moment." Gale says his face flushing red as he tries to act unfazed. You bashfully nod secretly wondering if they'll both agree to take you at the same time tonight, you squeeze your thighs together wet at the thought.

They stand and walk only a few steps away turning their backs to you lowering their voices "I think she's serious." Gale says with a stunned expression on his face making John start chuckling.

"Shes definitely serious and I kind of want to do it just to see the surprised look on her face when she realizes what she's asking for." John says smiling mischievously. "Getting fucked by the Bucks?" Gale says making them burst into laughter.

Gale comes to his senses and gets more serious

"Alright the ground rules then; if it get awkward we stop, if she starts screaming for her life we definitely stop, I get one side you get the other, and I think it could work." John smiles and agrees to the plan going insane with the fact you've already astounded both of them.

Gale peeks over his shoulder and sees you sweetly smile and wave flirtatiously at him, you like how they are being so shy and cute now.

"Yea look at her John she gets finer by the second, let's go get her." They break their huddle and return. Gale extends his hand to you and as you take it he wraps his arm around yours John extends his arm to your other side and you wrap your arm around his too. You try to contain your giddiness and excitement as the three of you leave together.

You exit the loud dance hall into the quiet night arm in arm with two handsome strangers. You are laughing inside of your head how crazy the idea is and how it's coming in to fruition.

You approach the military car and Gale gets his keys as John gets your door. You sit in the back seat and John gets in to sit next to but Gale pulls him back by the collar of his military jacket. "In the front" Gale snaps sternly with a look of 'don't touch her yet'. John laughs he really wanted to sit and talk and get to know you more, but Gale can’t have that.

During the short drive to the base Gale keeps peeking in the rear view mirror at you. "If you need anything let me know" he says actually feeling anxious that you left the dance hall with them rethinking the whole thing.

John on the other hand is fully invested "So what's the real reason you have to have both of us? What are you expecting us to do once we get here?" he asks peering back at you over his shoulder.

"Just have a little fun" you reply casually. You've already had so many trysts you assume if one can't satisfy you the other one could. "Is anything off limits or is it a free for all" he grins cheekily elbowing Gale who's focusing so hard on the easy drive that John knows he's too worked up in his head over this.

"It's just sex" you roll your eyes gently. For you it's a basic missionary hump for 2 minutes like all of your encounters they would definitely be top 10 for most handsome though.

"It's... just... sex" John repeats your words deliberately getting Gales attention shielding his lips discreetly mouthing ("I don't think she's had good sex") Gale tries and fails to hold back a quick laugh, finally breaking his nervousness. He realizes you think one will take you and then the other, having no idea of all the sexual things he and John are going to make you experience tonight.

You look out the window and see the entrance to the military base, its gigantic so many barracks and buildings it's practically its own town surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Gale slows the car down and shows his ID to the guard who salutes him and lifts the road block.

They drive in through the rows of buildings until they reach an office structure Gale hops out and comes to get your door. The base is unusually quiet all the men still at the dancehall partying the night away.

John gets his keys out first and unlocks the front entrance to the building the three of you walk inside through the lobby to an office door. You read the name plate 'Major Gale Cleven' as he unlocks and opens it.

Once you enter Gale clicks on the lights and John locks the door bolt behind you. They immediately begin to toy with you letting you know you are their plaything to be shared.

Gale steps in and kisses you as he gropes you all over your dress around your derrière and up your chest squeezing your breasts in both his hands.

John watches getting hard and jealous seeing Gale get to touch all over your body. Gale gives him a show that you'll let them do anything to you and firmly squeezes his hand around your derrière before pulling your dress up over your waist holding it there to show John your panties.

Gale breaks from the kiss with you "Come take her panties off and finger her” he says. You are so aroused loving how they speak to each other taking charge over you. Gale begins kissing you again holding your dress pinned up in the back for John.

When John kneels down behind you, his fingertips touch up your soft thighs reaching to your hips and hooking his thumbs in your panties sliding them down.

He looks at your perfect derrière and kisses across your exposed cheeks in worship. They’ve already done more than you've ever experienced your panties cling to your wetness as he pulls them lower. "Gale shes fully soaked" he says pulling your panties all the way down. Your pussy is glistening in his face, he trails his finger through your folds collecting your arousal gently rubbing your tight entrance making you clench around nothing.

He takes two fingers spreading you open like a book massaging your inner folds inches from his face getting drunk with arousal on the sight of your pussy. He slowly inserts his two long fingers inside of you making you moan into Gales mouth breaking his kiss "How does she look?" Gale asks through ragged breaths his cock already solid.

John whistles "It's one of the most pretty pussies I've ever seen" he says sliding his large fingers in and out of you amping up your arousal tilting his fingers to reach toward your navel and curling them back down making you moan loudly into Gales face.

Gale pulls your top halfway down exposing your breasts and rubs them gently in his hands. He trails soft kisses up your neck then pinches your nipples so hard it makes you bite your lower lip stifling your moan in your throat as you clench on John's fingers.

"I know I know" Gale coos at you "We're giving you things you never even knew you needed" you nod feverishly you love it your core pulsing as you feel your climax start. You are getting so wet with arousal it begins leaking out of you down John's hand as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Gale she's going to cum she's already dripping down my hand how should we take her?" When John says it, your face flushes and your knees buckle from pleasure.

"Make her cum on your fingers, I want to make her cum again on my tongue " Gales looking in your eyes as it registers what he said you moan from his dirty words. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, it makes them smile they are turning you out in so many ways.

John cups his large hand holding your bottom cheek kneading it as he plants kisses then gently bites into it.

When you feel the pinch of his teeth in your flesh it makes you clench so hard inside that he knows your about to orgasm. He begins pummeling his fingers into you so feverishly it makes your body shake as you feel the force of his knuckles wetly smacking against you.

Gales looking you in the eyes but you aren't able to focus back anymore just moaning lost in the pleasure of John's fingers about to make you cum. Your brows already knitted with your mouth panting and deeply moaning, your core clenching. "You like it when he fingers you?" He asks a little jealous.

"Yes Yes YES YES YES!" You repeatedly yell in his face triggering Gales jealousy. He reaches his hand between your legs finding your clit and rubbing it in time with John's finger-fuck. It makes you have an earth shattering orgasm instantaneously between both men.

" OH GOD OH G.." Gale cups his large hand over your mouth muffling your repeated moans and continues his assault on your clit making you cum so hard. It was so easy for them to make you orgasm he knows he can get one more. "John keep fingering her I want to make her cum again" he says it looking you in your blissed out eyes. You already feel the tightness building inside of you ready to be released again when he says it.

John turns his fingers inside of you from curving up to facing downward. He slides them up toward your navel this time hooking a squishy spot inside. Your body jolts when he finds it making you shiver and see stars. He pulls his fingers over it in a 'come here' motion pushing his fingers deeply in and out of your soaking entrance until your thighs are trembling and you are almost crying moaning into Gales hand.

He rubs his other two fingers over your wetness into your clit strumming it until your body tenses and you can't catch your breath. Tears rim your eyes as Gale removes his hand from your mouth seeing you so blissed you are unable to even breathe .

Your body gives in and your core snaps giving you such a powerful release from the orgasm that you feel like you are on cloud 9. John is still slowly hooking that special place inside until your shoulders shudder and you come down collapsing against Gales chest. He shushes you petting your hair as you breathe rapidly onto his neck the orgasm draining your energy entirely.

John slides his fingers out of you and sucks them clean licking his lips enjoying the sweet taste of you. He stands up his thick cock erect and strained in his pants as he begins to undress.

“Your doing so good for us” Gale coos and begins to make out with you cradling your head in his hands probing his tongue in your mouth. His cock is so hard he brings your hand down to touch him and you gasp in his mouth realizing both of these 6ft tall men are going to be so big between the legs it makes you whimper.

Once John is fully naked Gale passes you to him

"Hold her for me" Gale says as he gets undressed.

John holds you at your waist trailing his hands up your pulled down top to your exposed breasts. He softly circles his thumbs on your nipples.

You look at his wide chiseled chest, placing your hands there looking down farther and audibly gasp seeing the size of his length as he presses it against you without taking a step. His girthy cock a dark pink color just beneath his abs between his thick thighs. John smirks at you seeing the reaction he’s been waiting for.

"Turn her around " Gale says after he heard you gasp from Johns size. John turns you to face away from him holding your upper arms firmly.

You watch Gale finish undressing down to his boxer shorts, he slides them off revealing his long thick cock with a big round tip that makes your knees go weak.

"Hold her tight" Gale tells John and he grips your arms so you can't move.

Gale approaches you and continues pulling your top all the way down cupping your breasts in his hands. He leans in and slides his tongue out licking circles around your nipple until you start to moan then he licks the other. He switches back to the first nipple and slowly sucks it in his mouth twirling his tongue around the bud until you begin to squirm rubbing your knees together then he pinches the other one hard making you moan.

He alternates between each breast with either love or torture until your core begins pulsing from all his flicks and licks and pinches. You begin moaning deeper and rubbing your thighs together for sexual relief, you are absolutely soaked. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop the sensation hitting right to your core as your knees buckle and John keeps you standing

Gale reaches behind your waist unzipping your skirt letting all your clothing fall to the floor. You stand between the two men all three of you completely naked.

Gale looks you over head to toe nodding in approval stopping to stare between your legs, your thighs trembling drenched with your own arousal. "John you are right this is one of the prettiest pussies l've ever seen" He says smiling as he slides his hand between your legs cupping your folds. He forces you back into John's hard cock, the tip firmly pushes through the back of your thighs rubbing against your wet heat . You let out a high pitched shaky moan and shudder having hit your peak of pleasure.

The sound makes both of their cocks twitch at the tip.

"Put her on the desk" Gale says as John picks you up, his giant arms setting you back down on the desk and spreading your legs apart with his hands holding your upper thighs. John is so greedy for you and begins passionately kissing you lining himself up to push himself inside of you.

Gale snaps at him "Lay her flat on the desk and hold her down she needs more" Gales unspoken rule is he gets you first. John goes around the desk as Gale takes his place standing between your legs caressing your upper thighs. John helps you lay flat on your back and holds your hands above your head pinning them against the wood holding you by your wrists. You look down to Gale poised between your legs and then look up to John pinning your hands above your head to the desk. You are completely at their mercy.

"It's just sex huh?" Gale asks repeating your words from earlier to show off his prowess. He kneels down between your legs spreading your thighs wider until your knees are against his desk, he parts your pussy lips open and latches his mouth on your wet folds sucking and slurping them with the tip of his tongue and the suction of his mouth you completely give into him loving it so much.

He flicks your clit so hard with his tongue your back arcs from the table. You moan loudly as your hips jump up almost unable to withstand what he's doing. You look up and see John's eyes staring darkly at you loving seeing how aroused you are getting and wanting to give you more.

He pins your wrists with just one large hand taking the other to squeeze one breast at a time caressing your nipples with his flat palm then pinching them repeatedly until you begin writhing and moaning on the desk due to the sensations from both men.

You are panting and moaning loudly feeling so tight in your core as John pinches your nipples and Gale thrusts his tongue deep inside your pussy. Your moaning intensifies into a stronger tantric rhythm of “YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES YES "as you are lifting your hips into Gales mouth. Your wetness slipping all over his lower face.

He stops to wipe his mouth and pins your hips firmly to the table with his hands so you can't move. "John she's noisy when she's about to cum make her be quiet" he says diving back down between your legs.

John presses his soft plush lips on yours in an upside down kiss eating your moans as Gale eats your pussy.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your body clenches so tight your back arcs from the table body tensing until your core snaps releasing clear liquid arousal all over Gales mouth, you moan into John's as you orgasm for them both.

Gale removes his mouth from you, his lips and chin covered in your clear slick cum. He licks his tongue as far around his lips as he can he can't get enough of your taste then he grabs his shirt from the floor wiping the rest. He throws it back down returning to his position between your legs.

Your vision is blurry, hearing distorted legs trembling body shivering. You feel so high from the pleasure you are delirious. "I've never felt like this before, Ive never cum like this before " you whisper to both of them your body feels like you are floating off the table. John leans in and kisses your mouth, seeing you in such pleasure he wants to be inside of you so badly. Gale pulls your body to the edge of the desk flush against him slipping you out of John's grasp breaking the kiss. "We haven't cum yet" Gale says making your core start throbbing.

John gets impatient you can see the flash of anger that he wants relief but Gale keeps taking you. He moves to your right, looking over your pretty body his giant cock pulsing as he's getting ready to pleasure himself over you but you reach out and grab him around the base first making his abs clench and his face flush as he locks eyes with you and you stroke him off.

"Are you that needy?" Gale snaps watching you give John a hand job. Gale in a newfound competition for your neediness runs his tip up and down your wet folds making you moan loudly "MMMM YES YES PLEASE!" you cry out wanting him inside of you. "Quiet her with your cock" Gale tells John.

John shudders from arousal staring at your pretty mouth open and moaning not planning to use you like this. He takes your head turning it to the side to face his pelvis and you release your hand from his base as he slides his heavy cock into your wet mouth filling it up.

You feel his tip squish at the back of your throat but he can't fit completely in your mouth due to his size. A small gasp escapes Johns lips at how amazing your mouth feels on him. He gently slides his large cock in and out of you mouth coating his length in your saliva.

Gale stops rubbing his tip through your folds as you leak arousal all over his desk from sucking John's cock, he wants finish you with his and places his hands on your hips lining up and pushing himself between your legs. Your moans are stifled with your mouth full of John's cock, and your entrance makes Gale slow his pace immediately. " Fuck she's tight!" he says loudly and begins working his length half way out, half way back in until he can begin smacking his hips between your legs burying his cock fully inside of you.

John is already blissed out eyes lidded his adams apple bobbing. He places his large hand on your head holding it in place as he thrusts into your mouth his powerful thighs flexing as he uses you.

You feel so aroused having both men satisfy you and themselves at the same time. The familiar tightening of your inner coil begins. The more each of them rams their cock inside of you the tighter your core gets until your moaning on John's and clenching on Gales. The tightened coil springs free inside of you giving you a sweet release that’s is so euphoric you don’t want it to stop . Your moans of extreme pleasure are muffled on John's cock but your fluttering walls gripping Gale tightly are the tale tale sign for him, once he feels you orgasm on him he wants to cum.

He slides his heavy cock into your tight soaked entrance faster and harder until it's making obscene squelching sounds. He starts pounding his hips between your legs making you scream on each hit vibrating John's cock in your mouth. Once you earn the first moan out of John feeling your mouth suck and vibrate on him he can't stop.

They both begin groaning in tandem getting off at the same time their deep guttural moans sound so good its cataclysmic to your ears and rattling your brain.

"I'm gonna cum" Gale yells as John shouts "fuck fuck fuck" thrusting in your mouth quickly and slipping his cock out unloading hot spurts of cum all over your chest. Gale pulls out of you too pumping his shaft vigorously making depraved moaning sounds as his body tenses and he spreads his silky warmth all over your naval.

They take several seconds to calm down staring at you covered like a sexy pastry "Should we make her taste us?" Gale asks already knowing the answer John grins they each dip a finger in their cum and bring it to your mouth. You suck Gales finger first then John's. Gale goes to get a towel to clean you up.

John grabs your jaw turning you to face to him caressing his thumb on your chin, he wants you more and to himself. He stares into your pretty eyes making him fall for you instantly a shiver running through him thinking you are the sexiest thing in the world.

Gale returns from the sink with a warm wash cloth gently wiping over each breast and down your naval cleaning you completely of their combined cum.

Gale sits you up slowly on the desk checking on you

"Are you alright?" He asks. You look up at him smiling weakly " I feel really good" you say smile spreading bigger across your face. He already has to have you again, he holds your waist caressing your naval with his thumbs. He's feeling things that he doesn't know how to process because he and John will never get over this.

John sees you both having a moment and feels crestfallen thinking he should just leave. He collects his boxers putting them back on as Gale looks around and finds his.

You slip off the desk and collect your clothing stepping into your skirt. "Where are you going?" they both say in unison. "I thought you would ask me to leave" you say thinking it's easier to leave as quickly as possible and never see them again. "You're staying the night I'm taking you back in the morning" Gale says. He goes to a blank wall of his office tugging a cord and releasing a pull down queen size Murphy bed.

"Oh" you say surprised. Gale enters his office wash room retrieving a tooth brush and a towel with one of his boot camp shirts handing them to you finalizing the stay.

You smile to yourself that Gale wants you to stay. You enter the bathroom brushing your teeth listening as Gale and John debate outside about the sleeping arrangement because John wants you to stay in his office instead and they can't come to an agreement.

You emerge from the wash room looking cute to break the tension " Do you guys want to take a shower with me?" You ask sweetly and they both drop the argument. Gale enters and starts the water, when it gets to temp he moves out of your way letting you step in first.

You rinse your hair and body as they brush their teeth.

Gale finishes first getting in the shower with you, John enters second. They tower over you in the small space as they take turns rinsing their bodies off. Your eyes can't stop staring at either of them feeling like it's heaven on earth. Shiny wet muscles, large hands, smiles, abs, large cocks, strong thighs.

They satisfied you so completely you can't even think about sex your body is only craving rest.

John finally gargles playfully and spits water out from the shower head finishing first. He takes a quick flirtatious peek at your body before exiting the shower. Gale turns off the water and hands you your towel and you use it to get dry.

Both of them dry off and wrap around their waists. As you finish drying your hair Gale helps you pull his boot camp shirt over your head. "Thank you" you say shyly in appreciation "It suits you" he says admiringly. He takes you by the hand and leads you to the bed

He turns down the covers and ushers you in you crawl and sit in the middle. John is putting on his boxers getting dressed to leave when you lock eyes with him

"Can you stay?" You ask nicely and he smiles at you then looks to Gale whose his lips are pursed in a definite no. "Weve already done ...everything else together...might as well actually sleep together " you smile at Gale sweetly to persuade him.

Gale doesn't respond he just goes to click off the main light in the room. You lay down and look at John patting the bed for him to come lay next to you, he smiles and climbs on top of you and planting a small kiss on your forehead to say thank you. He lays on your left side getting under the covers spooning you from the back holding you to him by your hip.

The remaining bathroom light clicks off and Gale joins a second later settling in front of you face to face placing his hand on your waist pulling you to his chest, John pulls you back to his side and Gale pulls you back to his side once more until they settle with Gale placing his hand on your waist and John placing his hand on your hip, you lay directly between them cuddling in the dark as you all fall fast asleep.

~*End*~

[myladybelle]

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter fifteen

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.6k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, swearing, alcohol consumption, description of a panic attack, reader wears a dress and heels at one point, use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: wow, i can’t believe it’s been almost two months since i last updated this!! as always, i appreciate your patience so much. life has been pretty wacky crazy recently and it’s been hard to find the time to unwind and write. enjoy xx 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒, 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 – 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟓, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔. 𝟖:𝟎𝟎𝐏𝐌.

The cocktail party buzzed with conversation, the soft clink of glasses blending with the low hum of music from a corner of the room. People milled about in elegant but understated outfits—cocktail dresses, tailored blazers—their laughter and chatter filling the air, a symphony of mingling voices that seemed to stretch and echo in the lavish space. You had been to countless events like this since you started competing on the professional circuit, but tonight felt different. Tonight, you were sharing the spotlight with Art.

Your ex-boyfriend, first love, and the person you admired most.

It had been surprisingly easy to avoid Art since college. You saw each other at major events and tournaments, but there was always a distance between you; just enough to make the possibility of confrontation seem too painful to entertain. At this point in your career, you had fourteen Grand Slam wins under your belt, but you had never won in the same year as Art. That day, you had earned your second French Open title, but it was Art’s first.

And what better way to celebrate than by parading the winners around together for the cameras?

Avoiding him was somewhat impossible. You saw him as you walked in, standing by the bar with a beer in hand, his broad shoulders tense under a perfectly cut jacket. His dark blonde hair was a little shorter than you remembered, a few strands brushing his forehead in a way that made your chest tighten, like the string of a violin pulled too taut.

And then there was Tashi.

Your breath hitched—not in a romantic, heart-skipping way, but in a way that felt like you stumbled and caught yourself just before falling into the chasm of old wounds. You smoothed your dress—a fitted black Oscar de la Renta dress with delicate spaghetti straps, a tulle-panelled bodice adorned with soft ruffles, and a figure-hugging skirt that fell just below the knee, chosen to make you feel confident—and stepped further into the room. Your heart beat a little faster, the pulse thrumming painfully against your ribcage. The photographers were already circling, their lenses clicking like clockwork, their flashes staccato bursts of light that made your nerves tangle.

“Y/N! Over here! Smile for us!”

You managed a polite smile, forcing yourself to stay steady in your black heels, the sharp click of each step an echo of your unease, and let the people working the event usher you to the photo area. This was nothing new for you, but nothing could have prepared you for when Art joined you. He stood so close that you caught a faint trace of his cologne—the same one he used to wear in college. It was a delicate, familiar scent, wrapping around you like a storm cloud, pulling at the edges of your thoughts. You drew in a shaky breath, willing yourself to keep grinning at the cameras and not blink every time the flash went off.

“Congratulations,” Art said softly, his voice barely audible over the chaos. His words were like a weight landing on your chest, slow and inevitable.

“Congratulations to you too,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but distant, a mask carefully constructed over the trembling chaos inside. Even as you saw Art try to meet your gaze in your periphery, you kept your eyes on the cameras, focusing on nothing but the flashing lights, desperate to avoid that blue gaze.

“Closer! Let’s get the champions side by side!” one of the photographers called.

You felt Art’s arm brush your back as he shifted closer. The contact was brief but enough to send a shiver down your spine, a twinge of sensation that prickled your skin like a live wire. Dread filled you when you realised Art had probably felt the tremor. The heat from his proximity wrapped around you like the suffocating press of too many hands, and you couldn’t escape it.

“How have you been?” Art asked, his voice low and measured like a question long withheld.

You finally turned your head, catching his icy blue eyes. That was dangerous, you scolded yourself, hurriedly looking away, but not before you felt the sharp stab of nostalgia pierce through you, making your throat tighten.

“Busy. You know how it is,” came your aloof response.

His lips curved into a small smile. “Well, not really. This is only my second time winning a slam,” Art pointed out, his voice lingering in the space between you like an invitation for something more. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the photographers were shouting again, directing you into different poses.

You felt his gaze linger on you, the heat of it sinking into your skin, and you forced yourself to ignore it. Art still had that effortless charm, the kind that had drawn you to him in college. His presence was magnetic, tugging at the air between you. If you ignored all the ways he had changed physically—putting on more muscle, cutting his hair, and dressing differently—you could close your eyes and transport yourself back to your old Stanford dorm. Though you tried to ignore it, a small part of you ached. The part that remembered late-night conversations and how he used to make you laugh.

Tashi’s voice broke the moment. “Y/N, you look stunning.”

You turned to her, plastering on another smile, the effort of it making your jaw ache. “Thank you, so do you.” You hated pretending that the sight of Tashi didn’t make your skin crawl, but you endured it. The last thing you wanted was for the press coverage to be about petty drama instead of Art’s first French Open title.

Tashi did, of course, look stunning. Her deep orange dress matched the colour of the Roland-Garros clay court perfectly, the fabric gliding over her skin like liquid bronze, and her dark hair swept back in a way that accentuated her sharp cheekbones. But her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

You wondered, briefly, what she saw when she looked at you. Did she see you as the girl who used to share her secrets? Or the one who had walked away from it all?

Unlike your conversation with Art, it brought you physical pain to be nice to Tashi in public. The words felt like needles, sharp and unwelcome, threading into the fabric of your politeness. What she and Patrick had done the night he proposed to you was unforgivable, and—unless she contacted you stating that it was an emergency—you would never answer her calls willingly.

The evening passed in a blur of interviews, handshakes, and obligatory small talk. Art was always nearby, his laugh carrying over the noise, his presence impossible to ignore, like the weight of the air had changed. At dinner, he was seated beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours when you reached for your glass.

“Sorry,” he murmured, pulling back, and the softness of his voice made your chest tighten like a hand gently pressing down on the raw edges of a wound.

You shook your head quickly, avoiding his gaze. Tashi, seated on Art’s other side, noticed. She always noticed. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, her expression unreadable. When she leaned in to whisper something to Art, he nodded absently, his attention already back on you, as if the air between the two of you still held a charge, something neither of you could shake.

The tension was suffocating. You could feel the pulsing weight of it in your chest, the heat that rose in your cheeks, the way your breath seemed to falter when you were near him. It was all too much, and yet, nothing at all had changed.

As soon as dinner ended, you excused yourself, weaving through the crowd toward the quieter edges of the venue. A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne, and you took a glass, sipping it slowly as you tried to collect yourself. The party was vibrant, the room filled with laughter and music, but all you could focus on was the lingering warmth of Art’s presence. It seemed to follow you like a shadow that never quite left.

When you glanced back, you found him watching you again. Tashi stood beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm, but his eyes were locked on you.

Tashi saw everything. She always had. It was one of the things that made you such close friends back in college—her uncanny ability to read people, to pick up on things left unsaid. Even now, as she stood beside Art, she could see how his gaze drifted toward you. She’d always known part of him still belonged to you, no matter how many years passed. And she couldn’t even blame him.

You’d been careful, distant. You’d kept your distance for years, and yet tonight, here you were, glowing under the lights, every bit the woman Art had fallen for all those years ago and so much more. Tashi wasn’t angry, not really. If anything, she felt tired. Tired of the distance between her and Art, tired of the slow erosion of their marriage. She’d thought it would be easier by now—especially after they’d had Lily—but it was like covering a bullet wound with a bandaid. It was enough to ensure Tashi and Art would always be family and have a place in each other’s lives, but it wouldn’t save their romance.

Seeing you tonight—seeing how Art looked at you—brought it all rushing back. She excused herself, slipping away to the restroom to collect her thoughts. When she returned, Art was gone.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been wandering the estate grounds. The party continued in the distance, laughter and music drifting through the cool night air. Your feet ached, but the night was still young, and as you looked out over the glittering lights of Paris, you felt a strange sense of calm descend over you.

You found yourself drawn to a small fountain tucked away behind a hedge, its waters glowing under soft golden lights. The scene was quiet and peaceful—a welcome reprieve from the chaos inside. You set your champagne glass on the fountain edge and sat down, letting the cool night air soothe your nerves.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

The voice startled you, but you recognised it instantly. You turned, finding Art standing a few feet away, his tie loosened and his jacket draped over one arm. He looked as uneasy as you felt.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” you asked, your voice carefully neutral. Please go back inside, you begged below your polite words. 

“Probably,” he admitted, stepping closer. “But so should you.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the fountain. Art hesitated before sitting beside you, leaving a few inches of space between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The gentle trickle of the fountain filled the silence.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, his voice soft.

“Five years,” you replied. Your tone was quieter than you intended.

You both knew exactly how long it had been. Five years since Patrick’s disastrous proposal. Five years since Art had found you, heartbroken and vulnerable, on that tear-soaked night. Neither of you said it, but the memory hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken.

“How’s Tashi?” you asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

He hesitated. “She’s… good. She’s great.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “That convincing, huh?”

Art let out a quiet laugh, but it lacked real humour. When he looked at you, his expression softened. And for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all.

𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 – 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟒, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟏. 𝟏𝟐:𝟏𝟗𝐀𝐌.

Your eyes widened as you stared at Patrick, your heart pounding. The words hung in the air between you, almost tangible. You blinked, half-expecting the moment to dissolve into a dream. But there he was, standing before you, his face—previously full of hope and excitement—reduced to absolute terror by the question he had asked.

“So?” Patrick prompted, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Will you marry me?”

The world tilted. It was as if the axis of your life had shifted without warning, throwing you into uncharted territory. The room was the same as it had been a moment ago. But everything felt unfamiliar now—the weight of Patrick’s gaze, the quiet hum of the air conditioning, the distant chatter from the street outside. Your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve, and you realised you hadn’t breathed since he first spoke.

Was he serious? He couldn’t be serious. Not now, not like this.

Patrick reached into his duffel bag by the door and retrieved a small velvet ring box. You covered your mouth with your hand when he opened it, revealing a delicate ring, the light catching on its surface. The diamonds sparkled, each facet glinting like a shard of frost on a winter morning.

Your heart stuttered, and a wave of panic surged through you. The pressure of the question pressed down harder, and your thoughts began to race, colliding in a chaotic mess. You loved him—you knew you loved him—but things had been hard recently. Patrick had been struggling, his insecurities bubbling to the surface more often.

What if this was his way of trying to hold onto you? What if this was about proving something to himself? Or proving to the tennis world that he could be a suitable partner for you even if he was less successful than you? Or to… anyone but the two of you?

“Y/N?” Patrick’s voice pulled you out of your spiralling thoughts. His face broke into a wide grin, misreading your silence. “I knew it! You’re so happy you’re speechless.” He shifted closer, holding the ring toward your finger. “Here, let me put it on you.”

“Wait,” you snapped out of your haze. You instinctively stepped aside, feeling a wave of claustrophobia with your back to the wall, and staggered toward the centre of the room. Your left hand was clutched in your right as if to shield your ring finger from the weight of Patrick’s question. “Just… wait.”

Patrick froze, confusion clouding his expression. “Wait? For what?”

You hesitated, fumbling for the right words. “Can I think about it?”

Patrick stared at you as if you’d suddenly spoken another language. “Think about it?” he repeated, his voice low with disbelief. “What… what is there to think about?”

You swallowed hard, guilt twisting in your stomach. “I don’t know if I’m ready to get married,” you stammered. The words felt foreign as they left your mouth, almost as shocking to you as they clearly were to him. 

Patrick’s face shifted, his joy giving way to an uneasy smile as he tried to brush your concern off. “We’re not eloping tomorrow or anything,” he said, a nervous laugh breaking the tension. “We can be engaged for as long as you want. I’m not in a rush. You can set the timeline. We’ll get married whenever you’re ready.”

You bit your lip, your mind still racing. Patrick was trying to keep things light, but your heart urged you to step back and process. “I know, but it’s not just that.” You winced. The way you worded it made it seem like there were a string of issues, which there were, but the last thing you wanted to do was hurt your boyfriend. “I wasn’t expecting this. I need time to settle into it.”

Patrick’s smile faltered, and you saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “Y/N,” he said slowly, his voice dipping lower. “Is this about Art and Tashi?”

The mention of your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend caught you off guard. “What?”

“Is this because they got engaged?” Patrick pressed, his tone sharpening. “Because if it is, that’s–”

“No. Well, a little. But not because of me, because of you,” you explained. “I mean… you’ve been bringing them up almost every day for months. You mentioned them getting engaged again this morning. It’s not crazy that I’d think–”

“Oh, come on,” Patrick snapped, the hurt giving way to irritation. “Why would you even go there? This has nothing to do with them.”

“It’s not that far-fetched,” you shot back. Your voice rose despite yourself, the tension pulling at your every word. “You’ve been comparing us to them nonstop. How could I not think about it?”

Patrick sighed, dragging a hand through his dark curly hair. “Y/N, I’m not saying this because of them. I’m saying it because I love you,” he insisted. “Because I want to spend my life with you. You’ve always said you wanted that too.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I do. I–” You stopped yourself, the weight of your words bearing down on you. “I just need time to process this. I’m not saying no, Patrick. I just… I wasn’t ready for this right now.”

The tension in the room grew unbearable. 

His shoulders slumped, and his free hand clenched into a fist. “You weren’t ready?” Patrick repeated, his voice trembling now, edged with frustration. His cheeks flushed, and his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I don’t get it. You always talk about wanting to marry me, about having a family with me. And now, when I’m finally asking you, you’re not ready?”

You could feel tears threatening to surface. “I don’t know why,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m just not. I wasn’t expecting it. I need time, Patrick. Please.”

Patrick’s breath hitched, his eyes glistening. He turned his head away, clearly trying to stop the tears from falling, but his voice cracked when he spoke again. “I’m not gonna sit here hoping I’ll be good enough for you one day. If you don’t want to marry me, then just say it. Because I can’t–” He swallowed hard, his breath unsteady. “I can’t wait around for you. What am I supposed to do? Sit here and wonder if you want to marry me until you finally decide that you probably don’t?”

“That’s not fair,” you cried. “Patrick, please,” you said, stepping closer, your hands trembling as you reached for him. “I’m not saying no. I just need time to think. We both need to calm down and process this.”

Patrick whirled around and shouted, “You aren’t being fair! If it’s not a yes–” he said sharply, turning to you with a tear-streaked face– “then I’m done. This is it. You either want this or you don’t. Either you want me or you don’t.”

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “Please don’t do this. Don’t make this an ultimatum. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking for time.” You reached out to him, your hands trembling. “You know I love you. I–”

“Do you?” Patrick cut you off, his voice rising now, pain in every syllable. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it right now.” He was shaking as he tried to stop crying. His eyes were red and a deep, dark blue-green you had never seen before. “I’m done waiting around hoping that I can be good enough for you one day–” Patrick said, his chest heaving with each breath, “I won’t be your fallback. You either say yes, now, or it’s over.”

Your heart sank as the finality of his words hit you like a tidal wave. The room seemed to close in on you. You opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Patrick stood there, giving you one last chance, his eyes searching your face for a response.

Shaking your head, tears streamed down your face. Patrick stared at you, his expression hardening as if the vulnerability had been carved away, replaced with something cold and distant.

“I can’t,” you sobbed, your voice trembling. “I can’t say yes right now, I’m sorry. Please, don’t–”

But he didn’t give you the chance to finish. Patrick turned away from you, wiping his face with his hand, trying to control the tears threatening to spill. He was angry; so angry, but there was so much pain in his eyes that you couldn’t breathe.

“You know what?” Patrick said, his voice shaking with fury. “Maybe you should just go back to your mother’s house. You want time? Take all the time you need. But I won’t be there waiting around for you to win another Grand Slam. I’m done.”

You froze. The words hit you like a slap. Your mother’s house. The place the two of you had made your home base for the last few years—had referred to as your shared home. Hearing Patrick rebrand your safe space as a house where every room was haunted by the ghost of your mother’s neglect and resentment hurt almost as much as Patrick’s ultimatum. 

Your whole body trembled as the old wounds reopened, raw and painful. You reached for Patrick, but he was already storming out—the ring box still clutched tightly in his hand. As the door slammed behind him, you sank to your knees, the weight of the moment crashing over you, leaving you broken and alone. For the first time, you truly understood the depth of what was at stake. But even as your heart screamed at you to fix it, to say something, you couldn’t find the words to make it right.

You felt the cracks in your chest deepen as you stayed on the floor, your body shaking like the last leaves on a tree caught in autumn’s final gust. Your hotel room felt distant, as though you weren’t in it. Your palms were flat against the floor, fingers splayed out on the carpet to hold yourself steady, but the tremors only intensified.

You didn’t know how long it had been since Patrick left, but the silence that followed his absence was suffocating. It pressed against your ribs like the weight of a thousand unspoken words, a thousand apologies you never thought you’d need to say.

Your breath hitched again, catching in the back of your throat. Panic rose like a wave, and the world tilted dangerously on its axis. The walls seemed to close in, each inhale feeling tighter, colder, more impossible. Your chest was tight with something raw, something dangerous—this feeling of being unmoored. Of not having a place to land. Of not knowing if you’d ever stop falling. The room tilted again, but this time, it wasn’t the room; it was you.

Your hands shook so badly that you barely noticed the tears until they stung your skin. They were hot and angry, but they didn’t belong to any one thing. They didn’t belong to the breakup—not entirely. They belonged to the feeling of losing control, of losing everything at once, and most of all, to the gaping emptiness threatening to swallow you whole.

The silence was deafening. All you could hear was your own rapid breathing, the frantic beat of your heart, and the staccato sound of your shallow gasps for air. You could feel your pulse pounding in your neck, a rhythmic reminder of how fragile everything was. How everything could shatter in the span of a few words.

You want time? Take all the time you need. But I won’t be there waiting around for you to win another Grand Slam. I’m done.

The words echoed in your mind, repeated like a drumbeat, over and over until they lost meaning. Until all you heard was a blur of syllables and your heart thudding in your ears.

Your fingers pressed harder into the carpet, your nails digging into the plush fabric as if somehow this would ground you. As if somehow this would keep you from floating off into the ether. You had to breathe. You had to stop this. You knew this was a panic attack—the kind that built from something small and spiralled until it felt like you were drowning in your own mind—but it had been so many years since you’d last had one that it caught you off guard.

The tightness in your chest pulled deeper. The weight of it was unbearable. It felt like a boulder sitting on your lungs. No matter how much you tried to push it off, it stayed. You tried to inhale, to hold it steady, but your breath came out in short, stuttering bursts. It was too much. It was all too much.

The air felt thick and heavy. It was thick with the absence of Patrick, with the sting of the finality in his words. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. You couldn’t pull him back. You couldn’t change the past few hours. The finality was there, like a door slammed shut with too much force, leaving you standing on the other side, wondering if you ever had the key. After everything you and Patrick had been through, he ended it like it meant nothing to him.

You forced yourself to take a breath, but the air felt thick in your throat. It burned. It wasn’t enough, and your hands began to tremble more violently, your legs aching as they tried to hold you, to keep you from crumbling.

But then, slowly, you managed to take another breath. And another. And another. Each one was shaky at first, like the tentative steps of someone who’d just learned to walk. But the fog started to lift, even if just a little, the sharp edges of your panic beginning to dull as your breath steadied. Your hands stopped trembling.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. And in that moment, something was enough.

You reached for your phone, the screen glowing in the dim room, and typed a quick message to your dad. You needed to go. You couldn’t stay in that house anymore. You couldn’t go back to the place where ghosts of the past haunted every corner, every creaking floorboard. It had been a place of refuge for a time, and it was easy with Patrick by your side, but now it was just a tomb. 

You sent the text, feeling the weight of it settle into your bones like a quiet resignation. The words were a decision. A choice. It was time to leave.

But even as you pressed send, your mind raced back to Patrick. To the way his voice cracked when he told you he was done. To the way he walked out, leaving behind a vacuum where he had once stood. You didn’t want the night to end this way, and you definitely didn’t want your relationship to be over. Not like this.

You gathered your courage, your breath still shaky, and you called him. Patrick’s phone rang somewhere in the hotel room; he hadn’t taken it with him. Of course, he didn’t. All he was holding when he walked out was the ring box. 

He was probably already miles away by now, distancing himself from whatever just happened between you two. Your fingers trembled again as you ended the call, but your eyes caught the gleam of his car keys on the nightstand, his wallet next to it. He’d left his things there. He was gone, but he hadn’t gone far.

Your heart beat faster as a strange sense of urgency rose inside you. You needed to find him. He couldn’t be out there alone, not after everything. The night was dark, and he was vulnerable, just like you. And if something happened to him, you’d never forgive yourself.

You grabbed Patrick’s wallet and keys, sliding them into your bag, but your body protested. It ached, exhausted, and yet you pushed yourself out the door and into the night, your feet carrying you through the empty streets. The world around you felt cold, too cold for comfort, but you pressed on. You couldn’t stop now.

You turned the corner, walking faster, your breath quickening as you scanned the streets, asking every passerby if they’d seen a man with dark curly hair wearing a grey t-shirt. But no one had seen him. No one knew where he’d gone. The night stretched out before you like an endless maze. With every passing moment, your panic returned, hotter this time, suffocating.

You pulled out your phone again, eyes blurry with the beginnings of a panic attack. The tears threatened to fall, but you couldn’t afford to let them. You couldn’t afford to break down out there, not like this, not alone.

Your thumb hovered over Patrick’s name in your contacts, but then you stopped.

Your breath caught as you thought of Art. You hadn’t talked to him in months. Not since your birthday, and even then, it had been only a brief conversation, polite but distant. You didn’t know why you reached for him now. Maybe it was because he was part of your past, someone familiar who still knew you. Maybe it was because he was close—he was playing in the Atlanta Open finals tomorrow.

You pressed the call button before you could second-guess yourself.

His voice was immediate, calm and steady, like the anchor you didn’t know you needed. “Y/N?” Art asked, his tone surprised. You shut your eyes, nearly weeping at the familiar timbre of his voice. It was like a weighted blanket, pushing down on your chest and reminding you that it would be okay. “What’s wrong?”

The panic rose again, sharper this time, and you choked on your words as you explained between sobs, between breaths. You told him you didn’t know what was happening, that Patrick was gone, and you didn’t know where he went, that you were scared. You were scared of everything.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Art said, his voice never wavering, never questioning. “Where are you?”

You told him that you were near a hotel, walking around, asking people if they’d seen Patrick, but it was no use.

“That’s where I’m staying. I’ll meet you in the lobby. Stay on the phone,” Art instructed firmly. “Keep breathing.”

His voice, steady and unwavering, was a balm to your raw nerves, a lifeline thrown out into the sea of your panic. Art was here. Art was going to fix it. Art was safe. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the fragile comfort of knowing you didn’t have to face this alone.

Art arrived at the hotel lobby, his heart still thumping erratically from his conversation with you. He glanced around, eyes scanning the space for a familiar face. But a fleeting glimpse of something else caught his attention first: Tashi.

She was sitting at the lobby bar, her dark hair shimmering under the low lights, the soft curve of her cheek reflecting the warmth of her drink. Across from her sat Patrick with his familiar curly hair, with his hand wrapped around Tashi’s hand. It was clear they were in the middle of an intimate conversation across the small table, but Art couldn’t make out Patrick’s expression.

Art froze, his body tensing. He was rooted to the spot, struggling to piece together the sight before him. Tashi, his fiancée, and Patrick, your boyfriend. What was she doing with him? Especially after you were in such a panic about Patrick’s whereabouts. It didn’t add up.

“Art? Mr. Donaldson?” Art turned around to see a fan smiling widely at him. “Oh, my God, I can’t believe my luck that I would run into you so late at night,” she expressed. Digging through her bag for a marker, the fan asked, “Um, would you, uh–” She handed him her boyfriend’s cap to sign.

“Sure, yeah,” Art readily agreed. He tried to sound cheerful despite the confusing sight of Tashi and Patrick lingering in the background. Art took the pen, offering a polite smile, and scribbled his signature across the brim of the cap. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” the fan said warmly.

“Thank you,” Art echoed. 

He turned back to the corner of the bar to find Tashi and Patrick’s seats vacant. Art looked around quizzically, trying to figure out where they went. He stood for a moment, disoriented, the sight of them together stirring something deep within him. But before he could lose himself further in his thoughts, a burst of energy and warmth rushed through the lobby. 

It was you.

Your face was still streaked with tears, but you looked beautiful. It had been a few months since he last saw you at a tournament, and he hadn’t expected to see you at the male-only Atlanta Open. Like always, you were a breath of fresh air. It was like Art had been slowly suffocating and you were the oxygen that filled his lungs once more.

Without hesitation, you rushed through the lobby and threw yourself into his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Oh my God, Art!” you exclaimed, your voice full of relief. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Art’s chest tightened as he held you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, instinctively trying to offer you comfort, his mind still whirring over the strange encounter with Tashi and Patrick. But for now, all that mattered was you and how your body shook in his arms, the weight of everything crashing down on you.

“I’ve got you,” Art whispered, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face as you pulled back, your tear-filled eyes locking with his.

You moved to the couches in the lobby, settling into a corner with a drink in hand. Art watched you as you wiped your eyes, trying to steady your breath.

“Where do I even start?” you murmured, shaking your head, eyes darting around the room. “I’m such a mess, Art. Everything is… everything’s broken and wrong.”

Art took your hand gently, squeezing it in reassurance. “Tell me what happened,” he said softly, his voice steady.

Your breath caught as you exhaled slowly, beginning to explain what had happened between you and Patrick that evening. Your voice trembled with each word as you recounted how Patrick had told you he was done if you didn’t agree to marry him, how everything had spiralled into a confrontation you couldn’t escape.

“I just don’t understand,” you whispered, your voice raw. “I thought we were okay. We were so happy, Art. But then… then it just fell apart. It all just fell apart.”

Art’s mind wandered back to the strange scene he had witnessed moments ago, Tashi and Patrick in the bar, their proximity oddly intimate. His stomach churned. He wanted to believe that your heartbreak had nothing to do with Tashi, that Patrick wouldn’t do something like that. But a part of him couldn’t shake the suspicion.

Your words began to blur, your pain seeping through in every syllable. Art kept his gaze fixed on you, trying to stay focused, but the more you spoke, the more he felt a sinking dread in his chest.

“I don’t want to believe it,” Art said quietly, more to himself than to you. “But I think… I think Patrick and Tashi are together right now.”

Your face fell, brows knitting in confusion. “No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “No, I—I don’t believe that. I don’t.”

Art felt a painful ache in his chest, a knot forming in his stomach. He knew it was hard to accept, but the pieces were falling into place.

“I don’t think Patrick would cheat on you,” he said carefully. “But he’s going through so much right now. I think… I think he might have pushed you away, Y/N, but maybe not because he didn’t care. It’s like he’s trying to protect himself from getting hurt again. And–” Art hesitated, trying to find the words that didn’t feel like betrayal. “And maybe the way he would try to heal, to deal with everything, is to have a one-night stand with Tashi.”

Your lips widened in horror. You shook your head again, trying to push the thought away. But the way your lips trembled told Art that deep down, you understood. “I… I don’t think so. It’s not possible. Tashi and Patrick?” your voice wavered with disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t do that.”

Art lowered his gaze, his voice quiet. “I don’t know… I saw them sitting together in the bar. I don’t know what that means, but I don’t think it’s good. You don’t know how things have been since Tashi and I got engaged. I thought everything was fine, and then she... she just couldn’t handle it. Especially with how you’ve been dominating in tennis. She couldn’t stand seeing you succeed, not after everything. Things have been hard for us, and maybe she needs this. We never really understood their relationship when they started seeing each other all those years ago. They were never… together, but they had a way of comforting each other that I could never replicate.”

You recoiled slightly. “No,” you said again, shaking your head more frantically now. “I don’t want to believe it. Not Tashi. Not Patrick. They wouldn’t do this to me, they know that this–” You inhaled sharply. “This would destroy me.”

Art sighed deeply, his heart heavy. He wished there was another explanation, but he knew deep down that his instincts were rarely wrong. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I just think that if you’re right, and Patrick really is done, then he knows he has to hurt you. Because you’re the kind of person who fights for what they want until it’s no longer an option. I don’t think Patrick wants you to fight for him anymore. He wants you to hate him, and I think this is how he’s going to do it.”

You looked away, your face filled with tragic sadness as you fought to keep yourself together. Art could see it in your eyes—you were trying to hold everything in, to protect yourself from the truth.

“I need to leave,” you murmured after a long pause, your voice thick with emotion. You stood up, clutching your bag tightly in your hand. “I can’t stay here. I can’t be around this anymore. I need to get out.”

Art stood, his hand instinctively reaching out to you.

“Don’t go,” he said gently. “Please. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“I need space. I just… I need space,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Without another word, you turned and walked toward the door, your steps slow but determined.

Art watched you go, his chest heavy with the weight of everything he had said, everything you were feeling. He couldn’t stop you.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was just the beginning.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒, 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 – 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟓, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔. 𝟏𝟎:𝟏𝟓𝐏𝐌.

You looked at Art, your heart thudding in your chest as the years between you two melted away in the quiet, charged space around the water fountain. There was something unspoken. Something in his light blue eyes that reminded you of the days when things had felt simpler. You had both been so much younger in college, so much more naive about what would come, about where you would end up. The lives you had now—separate but somehow still linked in the quietest ways—felt like they belonged to someone else.

Ever the gentleman, Art slipped his jacket around your shoulders, and you closed your eyes, relishing his familiar scent. His comforting action was so natural that it sent you back nearly ten years when you first fell in love with him. You settled beside him, the faint rush of water the only sound for a moment before he broke the silence.

“So, how’s it going?” Art asked, his voice soft, trying to sound casual though there was an undercurrent of concern. “All the success, everything... how are you really doing?”

You chuckled, a hollow sound that didn’t express joy or amusement. “Oh, I’m good. Really good,” you said, though the words felt strange, foreign on your tongue. “Just... lonely, you know?”

Art’s brow furrowed, a flicker of sympathy crossing his face. “Lonely? With everything you’ve built?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, the weight of his question pressing down on you. “Yeah. I don’t really have anyone except my dad. No partner. No friends.” You paused, swallowing thickly, unsure whether you wanted to say the next part. But you did, anyway. “Everyone’s always using me, Art. Like... like some accessory to parade around, not a person. And the few people who could have been close, the ones I thought would be–” You sighed, rubbing your forehead, trying to keep the bitter edge from your voice. “My closest friend, Elora, she’s too busy being my manager, too busy planning my life to actually be my best friend. I know she loves me and sees me as more than her client, but the little free time she has is spent with her wife and kid, so I don’t really fit into her life like I used to.”

Art’s expression softened, his eyes locking with yours as if searching for the deeper meaning behind your words. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” you admitted, staring down at the water, feeling your chest tighten. “I thought I could handle it, you know? But sometimes I wonder if I’ve just become this... this shell of what I wanted to be.”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze far away for a moment before he spoke again, quieter this time. “I’m sorry you’re going through that. I know you wanted more. You deserve more.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken at his words, a rush of something unexpected—something raw—coursing through you. But before you could let it settle, Art turned to you, his eyes heavy with something unsaid; something darker than you expected.

“I’m... I’m not doing too well, either,” he confessed, his voice laced with a sadness you hadn’t noticed before. “Tashi and I are separating.” Art let the words hang in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

You blinked at him, your breath catching in your throat. “What? But... I thought everything was good. You two have a daughter.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you saw the way Art’s eyes clouded, a mixture of regret and something else flickering beneath the surface.

“We do,” he confirmed, the words heavy, each weighed down by something painful. “But... we haven’t been in love for a long time. Our daughter, she was... well, we wanted kids. Not because we were so madly in love we had to procreate. We just... wanted kids.” He paused as if trying to explain the hollow truth of it. “The love went away, Y/N. It left years ago. I don’t know if it was ever really there, or if we both just wanted to be close to you somehow.”

You didn’t know what to say. The reality of it was too much, too sudden. The image of Art—always so solid, so strong—shaken, cracked in a way you didn’t know was possible, made something inside you ache. You wanted to reach out, to fix it, but you knew there was nothing you could say. Not now.

The silence that followed felt too long, stretching between you both like a gap too wide to cross. The water bubbled in the background, the only sound now, filling the empty spaces around your words.

“I never knew,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “I always thought that the love was always there, even when you and I… Anyway, I guess I thought I was in the way. That you finally found happiness together. I’m sorry that wasn’t the case.”

Art smiled wryly, though there was no humour in it. “Yeah. We’re keeping it under wraps. It was easier that way, I guess. Easier to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t. Especially with Tashi being my coach.”

You shifted beside him, your heart racing in your chest, and for a brief moment, everything felt so impossibly tangled. For so long, you’d been feeling like nobody in the world understood how you felt. But Art did. Art always understood you. Just as his relationship with Tashi had been relegated to a professional one, your friendship with Elora had done the same. 

You wanted to ask him more; wanted to understand what had happened, but there was something more pressing in the air between you—something unsaid. The space between you, the physical distance that had always felt safe before, now felt too wide, like a canyon you couldn’t cross. You were both standing on the edge of something, not quite ready to leap, but afraid of falling into it. And yet, there it was: the undeniable pull, like gravity, drawing you closer.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “I’m sorry about everything.”

Art didn’t respond right away. His gaze locked on you, his lips pressing together in a way that made his jaw tighten. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and then, as if pulled by some unseen force, he leaned in slightly. Just enough to make you feel the shift in the air.

Your heart skipped. Your breath hitched.

And in that moment, neither of you moved. Your lips were close. So close that you could feel the heat from his skin, the warmth of his breath, but you both stopped. Just a whisper away from something you didn’t know if you should want. You closed your eyes instinctively, letting your pulse race, the ache in your chest growing sharper. You wanted it. You wanted him. More than you could admit to yourself.

You both leaned in again, drawn to each other with a magnetic pull that neither could resist. The air between you was thick with the things left unsaid, the years of longing and unresolved feelings flooding back. You could feel his warmth, the faint tremor in his breath as his lips moved closer to yours. For a second, you could have sworn everything in the world had narrowed down to this moment, this breath, this longing.

Your heart raced in your chest, and everything about this felt like it was meant to happen. The rush of emotion was so intense it hurt, and for one fleeting moment, you thought, Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the moment where everything changes.

And then—as his lips hovered so close, barely brushing yours—your voice broke the silence, barely a whisper in the still air. “You’re married.”

The silence between you was suffocating now, and you fought against the tightness that had formed in your chest. You pulled away. It wasn’t fast, but it was firm. A sudden, painful decision. You took a sharp breath, heart hammering in your chest as you stood, your legs shaking beneath you.

“Art…” Your voice broke. A jagged edge of regret cut through you. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Not clearly, at least.

He stood beside you, his gaze locked on you, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Y/N?” His voice was soft and uncertain, but there was hope there too. Hope that you both knew couldn’t come to fruition, not like this.

“You’re married,” you said again, the words like acid on your tongue. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re married, Art. And I can’t... I can’t do this to someone else.”

Art blinked, the shock in his eyes growing as you spoke. “I–”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t. I can’t be the other woman. Not after everything with Tashi, and the night Patrick proposed, I just can’t do it.” Your eyes and nose stung with the onset of tears. 

The memories of that night—of seeing Patrick leave the hotel when you went to get some air and realising Art had been right; of realising your trust had been shattered, your heart broken, all because of their betrayal; of realising Patrick and Tashi would rather hurt you than set aside their pride and try to make things right with you—rushed back in full force.

You had loved Art, so deeply, once. And to see him like this now, so close, so familiar, and yet so far away, it was unbearable. But what was worse was knowing that, at this moment, you couldn’t be the reason he hurt someone else. You couldn’t be the one to cause pain the way you’d felt it.

Art’s expression shifted, like the weight of your words finally registered, and the hurt in his eyes was a mirror of the pain you felt. He reached out as if he wanted to bridge the distance, but his hand faltered in the air.

“Y/N…” he said delicately, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not... I’m not happy, Y/N. I’m not in love with Tashi. I haven’t been for years. I don’t know if I ever actually– But she’s my wife. And I haven’t figured out how to end it... not yet. I don’t have the courage."

The words hit you harder than you expected. You knew this. Deep down, you’d known. Art was always the kind of person who would stay until the other person told him to leave. It was why you had to be the first one to say your relationship wasn’t working anymore in college. Art would have stayed with you, even through the pain. And now, Tashi was who he would stay with. Hearing him say it out loud made the reality all the more painful. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage,” he added, his voice low and raw. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. But I’m stuck. I’m stuck between what I want and what I’m supposed to do.”

You closed your eyes, the ache in your chest intensifying. You wanted to scream, to tell him to leave Tashi, to choose you. But the reality was crueller than that. He hadn’t left her, not truly, and maybe, just maybe, he never would. Inhaling shakily, you tried to steady yourself.

“You’re still married.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but the pain was so raw it broke through. “You haven’t ended it. You haven’t set yourself free.” A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, embarrassed by the display of emotion. “You have a family, and I respect that. But I can’t be the reason someone else gets hurt. Not even Tashi.”

A painful silence followed. You both stood there, inches apart, each feeling the pull of what could be and the harshness of what already was. You wanted to kiss him, to give in to the desire that burned between you, but you knew you couldn’t. Not while he was still tethered to Tashi, even in this broken state.

“I need to go,” you whispered, your voice faltering. The words were hollow, but they were all you had left.

He didn’t stop you. He couldn’t. Not when he knew the truth of what he was holding onto, and what he had already lost. “I’m sorry,” Art murmured, his voice strained with the weight of everything unsaid.

You shook your head, trying to hold yourself together. “No, it’s not your fault,” you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “It’s mine too. I’m sorry too. For the record…” you paused, wondering if you had the courage to confess something you’d only told yourself on your darkest, saddest days. “You’re the guy I wish I had fought harder to be with.”

And as you walked, you knew you had done the right thing. But it didn’t make it any easier.

[arjwrites]

left my heart at home for you to hold- dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: leaving you is the hardest thing dean has ever had to do, but coming back home is the joy of his life.

warnings: none, fem!reader

word count: .9k

a/n: my first drabble for my 100 follower event! based on the song russell county line by 49 winchester (how fitting!) thanks for the request, i hope you enjoy!! <333

arj's 100 follower event

xxx

“I miss you, sweetheart.” Dean's words came out almost desperately. 

The giggling of your response through the phone speaker sent a pang of hurt through his body. He was so sick of being away from you. On hunts these days, Dean felt like he was just going through the motions. He used to enjoy hunting, at least to some extent. He felt a sense of satisfaction and purpose when he ganked the monster and saved the day. But ever since you came into his life, nothing satisfied him like you did.

“When will you be home?” Your sweet voice bounced around in his mind and he held tight to the shape of your words, imagining them in the shape of you. Sometimes, when his eyes darted up to check the rearview mirror, he would swear he could almost see you perched back there, nodding along to the music and throwing him a cheeky grin.

A few days was the answer to your question, though he didn’t like it very much. Hunts these days felt lonelier than ever, and a routine three-day hunt stretched into lifetimes apart from you. Of course, his brother was right there next to him, thumbing through newspapers and lore books. Sam would jump right into discussing this next case the second Dean snapped the phone shut. But he wouldn’t hang up just yet. He’d hang on to this little scrap of you for as long as he could.

The hunt would go on longer than expected, like they always did. Each snag in the road would enrage Dean. He was always desperate, needy, longing to return home to you. More often than not, Sam would catch him distracted. He’d be staring off into space while researching, or zoning out while interviewing a victim’s family member. He just wasn’t on his game. It was like he wasn’t fully there- a piece of him was always left behind, his heart all those miles away, tucked into your gentle hands for safekeeping until he returned.

Eventually, things would come to an end and the boys would emerge victorious- sweaty, tired, and often bloody, but nonetheless victorious. Before Dean had you, car rides after a successful hunt were full of classic rock sing-alongs and lazy diner stops. It used to be a common occurrence to stick around, hit the local dive bar, celebrate a little. These days, however, when the bodies hit the floor and the case was said and done, Dean put the pedal to the metal. The second their work was done, he was ready to hit the road. Sometimes, Sam would turn away to say goodbye and offer some comfort to a victim, and when he turned back around, like magic, their bags were all packed and Dean was already posted in the driver’s seat, revving the engine and honking the horn. “Let’s go, Sammy.” As they hit the open road, Dean would press his foot down, reveling in the growl of the Impala’s engine as they barrelled down the highway en route home to his girl. 

There was a familiar routine when Dean returned from a long hunt. You’d always have some sort of meal ready, no matter the time of day, knowing he would be returning tired and hungry. He’d stroll in dramatically, tossing his bag down and throwing some sassy remark like “Honey, I’m home.” When you’d run up to him all smiles, he would wrap you in a hug that radiated the genuine love you had been missing. He’d pepper your face with kisses, absentmindedly recounting stories of the hunt that seemed boring now. Once he had you again, back in front of his eyes and in his arms, nothing else mattered. 

In the days between hunts, when life was normal for as long as you each could manage, Dean wouldn’t leave your side. He’d follow you from room to room, lingering in your presence for as long as possible. His eyes were always locked on you, drinking you in. He couldn’t get enough. Most often, he was quiet. His love for you was strong, silent, reverent, yet ever-present. But there were always moments where the feelings inside him became too much. They bubbled up inside him and threatened to spill out uncontrollably. It was in moments like this where he attempted to turn his sentiments into words. 

“I love you so much, you know that?” Dean spoke from his spot next to you as the two of you washed the dishes from dinner. Your beauty made the mundane so fascinating. He could see your face reflected in the shine of the plate you were drying, capturing your form in a way that was so uniquely you, and yet, could never live up to the real thing. 

“I love you too, Dean,” you hummed in response, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you placed the final dish into the cabinet.

“No, seriously.” He wrung his hands, turning from the now-empty sink to face you. “You’re home now, kid. It’s always gonna be you. I hate leaving, but I’m always coming back to you.” 

You smiled, wiping your hands on your jeans before taking Dean’s. You lifted his arms up, wrapping them around your shoulders and allowing him to pull you close. There you stood in the kitchen, swaying gently to a song that wasn’t there, yet you both could hear it so clearly. It was as if you could feel your life together growing up around you, sprouting and blooming. This was home, where Dean would always return. And you’d always be waiting.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | five.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 7k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, alcohol consumption and intoxication, drunk texts, mingi's plan is 100% nawttt working lol, mcdonalds for the drunchies!!, san opens up a bit about the whole iseul x yunho thing, making out, some lil neck kisses, sprinkle of dry humping, the talk happens 😀

"Last one!" Felix yells in the dining area of his shared apartment. You, Jiung, Felix, their roommates, Eunchae, Jurin and a bunch of other people decided to pre-game at the apartment before heading over to the bar for the 'welcome to the new quarter' happy hour event. You all take one last shot before heading out as a group, their building on campus being the closest to the downtown scene.

On the way over, there's groups on groups of students and other guests flowing through the streets— the loud roars and chatter echoing throughout the area. It's nice to see everyone excited for the event, keeping everyone in good spirits and in good morale for the quarter.

You cling onto Jiung as you find the alcohol quickly running through your system. Your cheeks feel hot; body all tingly, the world spinning a little more than usual. When you finally arrive to the bar, you flash your student badges and ID to the security before walking in. The music is blaring through the bar, the bass causing the walls to vibrate. The bar has enough space to accommodate all the heads walking in— a huge area to hang out, drink and vibe near the dj and bar on the main floor that opens up to the back patio. There's also a loft area for people to hang out at, a few arcade games lining the walls along with high tables and seats. 

The group walks in, greeting a bunch of other friends and familiar faces as everyone settles at tables near the back patio; the air feeling nice amongst the stuffiness in the bar. Felix and Jiung start ordering a bunch of shareable appetizers, while you slip away to head to the bar and skim through the limited cocktail menu for tonight's happy hour event. You bounce along to the music while debating between two options, finally making your decision just as more people pour in and the crowd cheers at the song that comes blasting through the speakers. You turn to give the bartender your order, slipping him one of the free drink vouchers you were given at the door. Suddenly, Eunchae comes to your side, drunkly squealing and squeezing your arm.

"Girl, the party has officially started." You furrow your brows as she steps aside and nods towards the door. In walks in San, Chris, Jongho, Mingi, Yeosang and Namjoon. You could feel your heart beating against your chest, and you're not sure why. You could be a 'lil excited he's here even though you would never do anything so bold, so daring, in front of everyone else.

But, he's here. He'll see you, and you'll see him.

"I definitely wasn't expecting them to come."

"Why not?! You know how Namjoon is. He loves his social events." She smirks. "Time to show off the goods!" She squeezes your ass just as she places a quick order with the same bartender.

"Eunchae!" You squeal, grabbing your drink from the bartender after getting yourself together. "They'll do their own thing and we'll do our own thing. No goods need to be shown." You playfully tap the tip of her nose, making her giggle.

"I mean, I dunno. Eyes could always wander, ya know?" 

"Let's not get our hopes up, shall we? I'm sure they don't wanna be around obnoxious loud ass drunk students right now. All thanks to Professor Kim for being a social butterfly!"

"Thanks to him indeed, or else this happy hour probably would've been a shitshow without them." She smirks and bites her bottom lip, grabbing her drink. She then grabs your hand to bring you back towards your friends while you sip on your drink. Jurin is already sipping on something, while eating away at some of the nachos placed in the center of the table.

"Got you guys some shots." Felix says, slipping them onto the surface of the table. 

"Lix! We just—"

"Ah, ah, ah! I paid a hefty tip for these so drink up, my favorite ladies." He clinks his shot glass against yours, Jurin's and Eunchae's before you take the shot to the neck, wincing as soon as the liquid burns and travels down your throat. You all chase with your cocktails [def not the best idea], hurriedly trying to wash away the tequila aftertaste.

"Gross." Eunchae shakes her head, grabbing more nachos to snack on.

"Good gawd, have you ever seen a better group of professors?" Jurin says as you and the girlies scan the high tables pressed closer towards the wall on the main floor. Mingi, Yeosang, Jongho, San, Chris and Namjoon are now huddled around watching the crowd with glasses of beer sitting on the table, all in casual clothing.

A group of handsome intellectuals. We're here for it.

"Professor Bahng me so—" Eunchae says in your ear.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

"The new professor wants her some Choi San." Jurin smirks as she drinks her cocktail, eyes still glued on their group. You shift your attention back to them, watching as Professor Cho talks to Professor Choi. She's a cutie, you can't even lie— she's got on a simple white tee, black flare jeans and boots on and it works well with her figure. She sticks herself right next to him, smiling and laughing as they continue to talk, joke around, whatever it is. Professor Song's got a shit-eating smirk on while he's sipping his beer, so it's pretty obvious he's trying to set them up. You don't know if it's the alcohol or if you're actually feeling disappointed for god knows why, but it sucks. It makes you pout a little when the reality settles, knowing Professor Choi should definitely be entertaining someone like Professor Cho;

Not you, a grad student.

So maybe all those subtle moments were just merely subtle moments. Maybe Professor Choi was just that charming, that enticing, that everybody experiences the same subtle moments as you. It was never meant to be a thing.

"That's Y/N's man, though."

"Excuse me, since when?" You look at Eunchae.

"Since he went all prince charming on you and saved you in the basement."

"Please, he had no other choice." You frown.

"He could've grabbed Sunwoo or a facilities person to come and fix that door knob at the same time, but he didn't." She puckers her lips. "I'm gonna say he's got the hots for you."

"Do you hear her?" You laugh and look at Jurin before your eyes are back to [subtly] scanning the high tables. San is deep in conversation with his people, but it's almost like a radar goes off for him because his eyes instantly meet yours. He doesn't necessarily break away, even as he sips his beer and listens to Namjoon entertain the table.

His eyes are on you.

He'll see you, and you'll see him.

The DJ starts playing a mix that causes the crowd to roar and get more hyped, your friends pulling you onto the dance floor. You carefully let them drag you along— your glass in one hand while you start to sing and bounce along to the song. Of course, your friends drag you right in San's view, and he's not complaining one bit. He continues to keep it subtle, though. Still engaging in conversation as much as possible, but he's not even gonna lie, his attention is elsewhere. He can barely even focus on Zara next to him.

"I didn't think you'd actually come tonight." She says, coming back to his side after grabbing a soda to sip on.

"Why not?" He pries his eyes off of you to shift to her. "Namjoon's a real stickler when it comes to these things. Wants us to be present at most student events to show face." She giggles and nods.

"I see that. Well, you do enjoy it, don't you?"

"I do. It's fun to see everyone enjoy themselves. Reminds me of the good times. Back in the days." She laughs.

"Okay, old man." She teases and he playfully rolls his eyes, now returning his attention back to you. You're dancing and singing along happily, even doing those cute little dance challenges with your friends and San has to prevent himself from smiling too big or keeping his obvious attention on you for too long. At this moment, Yunho and Iseul walk in, passing the high table with curt nods and short greetings, the two barely paying any attention to San and vice versa. San continues to sip his beer, pursing his lips as he hears Yunho and Iseul happily greeting the other professors next to them. It's probably the beer [most likely], but he finds himself getting a little more irritated than usual seeing them around. And Mingi might've realized first, except his plan to distract him isn't necessarily gonna work—

"Why don't you spend some alone time with her or something? You know, doesn't have to be much." Mingi adds nonchalantly as he sips on his beer and watches the crowd, coming around to his other side.

"I'm good." San looks at him before shaking his head. His eyes land back on you over the edge of his glass and he finds that you're looking, too. You're being a tease, especially with the way that mini dress hugs you perfectly. The way you move your body. The way you try so hard but equally not as hard to make sure he's paying attention.

He knows the game. He knows the way it goes.

And San finds his hunger for you growing by the minute. Ain't no way you're looking that good in front of him without having a clue what it does to him. You know damn well— very, very well.

He wishes he could do something about it, and you love every second of it. You subtly bite your lip before turning to face Eunchae, Felix, Jiung and Jurin, continuing to dance along to the Iamsu! track that's currently on rotation. The boys are snapping videos and photos, being the hype men they should for you and the girlies. San finds himself silently chuckling from time to time, hearing your screams and giggles just feet away.

"You couldn't be any more obvious." Jongho giggles as he comes to his free side, Mingi, Zara and Yeosang heading over to the back patio to play cornhole.

"It's just nice to see them having fun."

"Mhm." Jongho hums, sliding his glass onto the table. "Anyway, wanna go head to head on one of the arcade games?" Jongho points to the loft. San nods, setting his empty glass aside before following Jongho up the steps to play a few of the arcade games. On their way over, they engage in a few friendly conversations before going head-to-head in air hockey, basketball and skee ball. Eventually, you, Jurin and Eunchae also find your way upstairs having spent some time getting air in the back patio, loudly enjoying the arcade games just a few feet away from Jongho, San and now, Yeosang. Amidst all the fun you and your girls are having, you don't realize you almost crash [yet again] into your professor as you step back and cheer just when he's about to pass.

"Woah there." Professor Choi has his hand hovering near the small of your back.

"Woah— sorry. Hi." You look behind in a drunk haze, greeting your attractive professor as you try to create some space. "Hi Professor Choi."

"Hey. You good?" He smiles at you as you nod, cheeks hot from the alcohol, palms definitely clammy.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Yeah? Be safe for me." 

"Mmkay. Only for you." You tilt your head to the side and San cocks a brow in amusement. He subtly bites his lip before nodding.

"That's all I want." He plays along, watching as you obviously become affected by the unexpected response. You maintain eye contact with him, giving him that innocent, angelic smile you always give him. "Have a good rest of your night, Y/N." He says near your ear before giving you a small smile and heading back down the steps.

"Jesus fucking christ." Jurin teases before giggling and tugging your hand, pulling you back towards the games. As the night continues on, you, Jurin and Eunchae continue to play the rest of the arcade games before heading back down to play the giant Jenga and cornhole in between dancing with the boys. Hours easily slip on by, and by the time it hits close to 11pm, you're being asked to take the drunk-tivities to another bar.

"We're about to bar hop. Coming along?" One of your classmates ask. 

"Um no, I'm drunk enough and want my bed. Thank you!" Eunchae responds. You, Eunchae and Jurin continue to signal 'no' to the others in many variations, slowly splitting and walking off back towards campus. You realize you didn't get a chance to say bye to Felix, Jiung and the rest of the boys before you three slipped away, so you grab your phone and try to text him to at least let him know you're alive and well.

"Shit, I just realized we never tried to catch Jiung or Felix."

"I'm sure they're fine! They know we'll get home safely together."

"Let me text them really quickly."

you: thosee last shots were lethal and I'm still dRINK !! hope u guys bcarefl

you: becarfil

you: becareful!!!! fuck!!!

You continue to walk alongside of Eunchae and Jurin as you walk back to your apartments from the bar, clenching your phone in your hand while you wait for a text back from Jiung.

Ding.

"Jiung texted back!" You look at your phone and you swear, at this moment, all the alcohol might've drained from your system. To your horror, Jiung isn't the one texting you back.

prof. choi: doing okay there, y/n?

"FUCK!"

"What!" Eunchae yelps, surprised by your sudden reaction.

"Oh my fucking god! I accidentally texted Professor Choi, not Jiung!" 

"Oh shit." She laughs loudly. "Girl, it's fine! That man knows how it is, he probably doesn't even care!"

"No, Eunchae! This is so bad! He's gonna kick me out of rotation—"

"He won't! He was at the bar, I'm sure he understands. Just apologize." Jurin laughs. "You're fine, babe! Professor Choi looks so laid back. He's probably the last person you even have to worry about."

"Ugh, my god." You whine. "How embarrassing." You hesitantly [but quickly] text back to apologize.

you: omg i'm so sorry, professor choi! that was ment for jsunf

you: meant for jiung*

you: ah, sorry!!

San laughs at the text come through, incredibly endeared by the way you're trying really hard to apologize though drunk. He honestly doesn't care; he knows how this goes, he's been here before. He's glad you can have fun in between working and studying hard. 

prof. choi: no need to apologize, i know how it is! been there before. can you please let me know when you get home safely at least?

you: okay, i will.

You bite onto your bottom lip just as the three of you finally reach the King Residence Halls, still intoxicated but reaching the phase of sleepy drunk at this point.

"Okay ladies, I'm off to my humble abode. Get up there safely!" Jurin salutes as all of you walk into the main entrance, turning to her right to head down to her unit located here on the first floor. You and Eunchae wave before the both of you are retreating to your own studios for the night; feet hurting, body slowly breaking down, thirsty as hell for some water while you ride the elevator up to your places.

When you get back into the room, you quickly shower and get ready for bed. It's just about to hit close to midnight, and you know the bar hopping has barely reached its peak. You remember to finally text Jiung to be careful and to be safe, all while remembering to text Professor Choi back to let him know you made it home safely.

you: sorry, i got home safely a bit ago!

You set your phone aside as you plop onto your bed, somehow nervous for texting him a little later than usual. You do remember him and the rest of the professors were still lingering around when you, Eunchae and Jurin decided to head back. Maybe he was still there? Maybe he left and is already snuggled in his covers—

Ding.

prof. choi: good to know. 

you: you're still awake?

You're not even sure why you were prompted to keep the conversation going, but something within you felt comfortable enough to do so.

prof. choi: i'm barely leaving the bar with the rest of the guys.

you: oh, i see. be safe!

prof. choi: will be. make sure you and your roommates get lots of water.

you: roommates? i live alone. lol but i definitely just chugged a bunch of water. 

He doesn't respond after that text, and you wonder if he's driving or if he's just cutting the conversation there. You let out a small sigh, setting your phone aside to keep your hopes down and start settling in bed. Just as you pull the sheets back and prepare to hop in, your phone starts going off; vibrating on your nightstand and causing a loud rumble.

You were not expecting him to call you.

You take a moment before sliding right to answer his call, licking your lips and swallowing the lump that has formed in your throat.

"Hi." You shyly say.

"I'm sorry to call randomly. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You don't have to apologize, it wasn't random. But, I'm okay. Thank you, Professor Choi."

"San." He chuckles a bit.

"Hm?"

"You can call me San."

"Thank you, San." There's a slight pause that makes you feel like San is trying to say something, ask something in particular, especially since he called you instead of texting you back. But, part of you also feels like you could be looking too into the night and reading too much into every little detail. 

Maybe it was more convenient for him, right?

He was eyeing you at the bar, though. Heavy. And San knows it. He wanted you to know it.

"Are you tired?" You ask softly as you sit up and sit criss-crossed on your bed.

"I was, but I think I'm a little more awake now. How are you feeling, still drunk?"

"Mm, not as drunk as I was after I found out I sent the text to you and not Jiung." He laughs. "Water is definitely helping, too. Are you okay to drive?"

"Yeah, I am. Only had that beer." Another small pause. "I'm gonna grab some food."

"Oh, but you aren't going to the other bars?"

"Jesus, no." San laughs. "They are, but not me. It took me a lot to come out tonight and it's only cause Namjoon wanted us to show face." You chuckle. 

"I get it." You fiddle with the fabric of your sheets. "Do you.. want some company while you get food?" You boldly ask, heavily relying on the fact that San must have called you for a reason besides to check in. If worst comes to worst, he can just say no.

You'd understand. It's all harmless anyway.

"Sure." He says. "You're not too tired?"

"No."

"Where are you?" He asks softly.

"King Residence Halls. There's a side door on the left that I can meet you at."

"Be there in about 5 minutes?"

"Sounds good. I'll be down by then." And with that, the call ends and you sit on your bed for a good minute, trying to make sense of what just happened on the call. All of this was harmless, right? All the looks and the tension you had been feeling were harmless.

Right?

You hoped everyone was still busy being drunk or at the bar, knowing it'd def cause a stir seeing you get into Professor Choi's car. All of this on the surface level seemed so wrong and so out of place, yet here you were— throwing on some sweats and a hoodie to go on a ride with him. You grab your keys and your phone before heading down towards the side door. To your luck, the residence hall is the quietest it's been in awhile, and there aren't any people lingering around. By the time you walk through the door, there's an all black Toyota GR86 sitting idle. San lowers his passenger window just enough for you to see his eyes, a small smile on his face as you approach his car.

"Hi." He says as you plop in and awkwardly fiddle for the seatbelt.

"Hi Prof— San." You catch yourself [especially in these circumstances] as you settle into the seat and look at him. He lets out a small chuckle before driving off one-handed, his other arm resting on the middle console. "Where are you gonna get food?" Your eyes scan the way he's sat in the driver's seat; manspreading as he drives flawlessly with one hand. You can't help but find him incredibly attractive, and you shouldn't be fucking feeling this way.

It's the alcohol.

"Uh. That's a good question." His eyes dart to the time on his car's navigation screen. "McDonalds, probably."

"Great choice after drinking."

"Want anything?"

"I think I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Maybe." He chuckles.

"Let me know. I got you." You look at him as you play around with your hoodie strings. "Thanks for coming along on the ride. How'd you know I wanted company?"

"I dunno, really. Just a feeling."

"You looked like you had a lot of fun earlier."

"I did. It was fun. I just wasn't down to walk to more bars."

"Your friends still over there?"

"The boys. Eunchae and Jurin are probably sound asleep in their apartments." San nods. 

"It's good you guys came out. I always try to get people in the lab to come out to events and take a break from school and work."

"It is. It's easy to get yourself way too wrapped up in everything."

"Mhm. And that's why I try to push for a good balance. Don't want you guys to get burned out."

"Did you go out a lot while you were in school? During your postdoc?"

"Um, yeah. Kinda? I wouldn't do anything too crazy, though. I was also with Iseul for a lot of it."

"Oh." You look down at your lap. "Right, sorry."

"Don't be." He laughs. "I don't mind talking about it every now and then. It's not necessarily a secret."

"Mm, still. I didn't mean to pry."

"You didn't." He smiles, dimples on full show when he looks at you then turns back to the road. "But glad you enjoyed yourself. Saw you and your friends doing the little dances." You cover your face in embarrassment and it makes San laugh. "Why? It was cute."

"We were just drunk."

"And having fun!" He reassures you just as he turns onto the street and into the McDonald's lot. "It was nice to see."

"So, you were watching?" You look at him with a tiny smirk, hoping, praying to fucking God you weren't reading into everything incorrectly.

"How couldn't I?" He runs his finger down his bottom lip as he brakes and waits behind the car ahead. He shifts his eyes towards you, subtly eyeing you up and down from where he's sitting. You shake your head and look out the window without verbally responding, biting onto your bottom lip to prevent yourself from saying anything wrong. From smiling too big.

This shit can't be real.

"What's wrong?"

"Hm." You hum, tugging your hoodie up a bit. "You're just making me shy."

"Nothing to be shy about. I just liked watching you have fun. Should I not?"

"No, no one said you shouldn't." San chuckles, his turn to bite onto his bottom lip knowing full well where the rest of this can go. He's just not sure who will make the first move— you or him. Either way, he isn't complaining and he'll take what he gets. Call him selfish, but he thinks he deserves this after everything he's been through. He deserves to be happy, too.

"Sure you don't want anything?" He asks softly as he approaches the drive-thru speaker.

"Ice cream cone?" He nods.

"I got you." You sit quietly in the passenger's seat while he relays the order, pulling through to the last window as instructed. He pays and carefully hands you the ice cream cone before grabbing his small bag of food. You slowly eat away at your ice cream cone, preventing it from dripping all over the place while San drives off to a view nearby. It doesn't take long. In fact, you're just about to dive deep with your cone when San pulls off to a side lot and backs his car right near the edge of the small overlook he's at. There's better views, but this was the closest and it's a decent view— decent enough to help clear your mind, bring you back to reality and remind you of life's little blessings.

"Wanna hang out in the back for a bit? Let you eat that ice cream one in peace?" You chuckle and nod, watching as San hops out to open your door. You slowly walk towards his trunk, letting him clean it up a bit before plopping down to take a seat. You sit next to him, leaving a bit of room in between you two to make sure you don't make him uncomfortable.

"Do you come here a lot?"

"I used to, yeah. Helped me sit in peace for a bit when everything else around me felt too loud and chaotic." He says as he begins to eat away at his snack.

"It's pretty." 

"It is, isn't it?"

"You don't come here anymore?"

"Only if I'm really stressed. Like lately, I guess." You smile a bit.

"You know, I would have never known you were stressing. I know you've got a busy schedule and a lot on your plate, but you never let it show."

"Years of practice." He smirks. "Trust me, it took a long time to get it under control. Probably one of the things Iseul couldn't stand about me." You eat away at the last bits of your ice cream before you look at the end of the cone in your hand.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How did you get past all of that?"

"Coming here." He laughs. "Nah, but Jongho, too. He's been there with me through everything. I honestly don't know if I'd be here, the way I am, without him."

"That's good that he's been there for you. I can tell you two are really close."

"Yeah. It took me a long time, too." San laughs. "Which goes to say, I had a lot to work on. When that whole thing happened, I was always angry and questioning everything, down to my friends cause of Yunho. I felt so.. low about myself despite everything else I had."

"Understandably so. It was only valid to feel that way after everything you've been through." You pop the end of the cone into your mouth and chew away, causing your cheek to puff out at the size of it. San smiles when he turns to look at you, also popping in the last bits of his sandwich before taking a huge swig of his water bottle to wash it down. "So. You and Yunho were friends?" You pretend to act like you don't know because you don't want San to think it's weird that you know some of the details before you even talked about it. It's his story to tell, anyway.

"He was uh, my bestfriend. Actually."

"Oh. I'm sorry, San."

"It's okay." He chuckles. "Promise. But uh, yeah. Maybe not gonna go down this lane tonight."

"That's okay. You don't need to." You look at him with those sweet, angelic eyes and he almost can't help himself. Well, he finds that he actually can't when his eyes fix on the ice cream at the corner of your lip.

"Wait." He says, taking his thumb to the corner of your lip, wiping off the small ice cream residue.

"Oops." You shyly giggle. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He's doing the look again. He's doing that damn thing where he looks at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, a very tiny, subtle smirk at the corner of his lips. He's so fucking charming, so, so fucking attractive. He's so irresistible, especially when his eyes move from yours, down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

Maybe he's not the only one who can't help themselves.

Because the moment the silence feels a little different between you two, the moment the look feels a little more different, you find your lips crashing onto his in a quick, heated kiss. Everything about this moment is clouding your judgment, and you don't find yourself wanting to pull away. He takes the kiss, and he doesn't waste a moment of it. He feels his urge growing by the second, and feels the need to push this on and on;

And on.

He's wanted you, and he can't even tell you how relieved he is knowing you want him, too.

You straddle his lap and the kiss continues to intensify, becoming more heated and sloppier by the minute. He gives your waist a hard squeeze, a signal begging for you to slowly work your hips against him. Your tongue fights for dominance against his, San letting out a shaky sigh in between when you bite his bottom lip and suck on it.

"Fuck." He groans against your lips before devouring you some more, his hands slowly roaming up your sides. San sees how much your dress has ridden up, doing little to no justice hiding your beautiful thighs; barely covering your pretty parts. His left hand comes right below your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze to test the waters. You let out a small, breathy moan when he starts to leave a trail of kisses against your jaw, your neck. He starts to lick and nip at your favorite sweet spot, causing you to bite your lip and tilt your head back at the growing pleasure building at your core. You move your hips a little quicker, enjoying all of this and being in San's hold a little too much.

Until, the universe decides this is the right time to bring you back down to reality. A loud roar from a car zooming past on the hillside startles you, making you re-evaluate the compromising composition you're in with your professor.

"Oh shit, oh my god—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away like that." You abruptly pull back and hop off of his lap when the reality of what the fuck you're doing hits you.

"What, no? Y/N, it's fine. I—" He tries to reach for your hand but you back away. You're not sure what this means, or what the hell you've done— but you sure as hell just wanna get out of here and be in your own peace while you figure this out.

"God, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it, San." You look at him and he can't help but knit his brows together in confusion. He wanted this, and he was so fucking happy to see things moving forward between you two; all he sees is fear, confusion and even a lace of guilt in your eyes, and he can't help but feel the same way, too. "Just got carried away, it should've never happened." You add.

"I— yeah." San lets it go, even though he's defeated. This is not what he wanted out of tonight. He didn't expect anything to happen whatsoever, but if it did, this is not how he wanted it to turn out. 

This is not how he wanted tonight to end.

You don't really know when the embarrassment will die down, but it clearly hasn't on your end, and you've been avoiding San like the plague. It's not as hard as you thought it'd be, especially when San hadn't been around much due to his packed schedule and classes. The rare times you did see him, he was always with someone— bringing them down to his office for a meeting. You'd glance over and he'd quickly meet your eyes, but you'd break first and shuffle away to the behavior room. 

Why on earth did you think it was okay to kiss him?

Him, a fucking professor. Let alone the professor you're currently rotating for.

How fucking reckless, Y/N.

Oh so reckless and careless.

—FLASHBACK

San doesn't get back into the car as fast as you do.

He actually lingers outside a little longer, cursing to himself. Hoping this didn't fuck up anything that could have possibility built between you two. Hoping this didn't fuck up anything that could have continued to grow, blossom.

When he finally gets back into the car, it's silent. But, it's an awkward silence. You aren't sure what to say to break the silence, and you aren't even sure what the proper thing to say is. You just know that you can't wait to be home, covering your entire body under the sheets— no longer having to face the world for the night.

"Cold?"

"I'm okay." He leaves it at that. The music is softly playing in the car, thankfully filling some of the void, the awkwardness. You scroll through your phone for the remainder of the ride, texting the boys back as you peep the pictures they sent from bar hopping, telling them to get home safely.

Hopefully, you don't run into them. That'll be a whole other beast to tackle right now, and you almost feel queasy thinking about it.

"You can just pull up there and I can walk." You tell him as he pulls into the familiar grounds of campus, the graduate residence halls passing you by. 

"But, it's late. It's not safe—"

"San, it's fine. I've done this walk a million times because of the boys." 

"There are no boys to walk you back, though."

"It's fine. I promise." He lets out a sigh. You unbuckle your seatbelt before giving him one last, shy look over your shoulder. "Thanks for the ice cream and for letting me tag along."

"Course." He says, letting out yet another disappointed breath as he watches you hurriedly climb out and rush down the street towards your building. He doesn't pull away, slightly drives up to make sure you do make it to your building and are safe inside. He lets out another 'fuck' before driving off to his house, afraid and slightly upset at how things turned out. Not out of selfishness, no. But, San finds himself caring about you more than expected.

He didn't want to let you go, and he's hoping he doesn't have to.

—END

You think you're saved, for the most part, until you receive a text from San on a random Wednesday afternoon. You've just gotten back from having a late lunch with your friends, making your way down to the basement to finish up your work for the rest of the afternoon.

san: can you come to my office?

You don't respond right away, and it's almost like San knew you were staring at your phone, waiting for the right time to text him back.

san: please? it's important.

you: i'm heading down to the basement, i'll be there in about 5 minutes. is that okay?

san: more than okay.

You let out a sigh just as you tuck your phone away, taking your steps a little slower than usual to buy yourself some time. When you finally get to the basement, you set your things down on your desk and slip your laptop out. You make your way to his office with your laptop and notebook pressed to your chest, giving his door a few soft knocks before you hear his 'come in' from the other side.

"Hey." He says, meeting you right by the door. You hear him silently lock the door shut behind him before plopping onto his couch with a loud sigh. 

"Hi."

"Can you come here?"

"San, we're in your office—" He chuckles and pulls you down onto the couch next to him.

"I know. Door is locked. Don't worry." You let out a sigh with a small pout and he finds it adorable. "Y/N, I promise it's fine." You ease a little feeling his arm pressed against yours, body heat providing some kind of comfort.

"So, what did you wanna talk about?"

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Who said I was?" He cocks his head to the side before giving you a little smirk. 

"You don't think I can pick up on how different you've been acting?"

"Well, San. I don't know?" You shrug. "That whole thing that happened shouldn't have happened and I'm still trying to figure out how to move past it because—"

"Who says it shouldn't have happened?" It's your turn to give him a look. You pause and try to read his body language, but nothing about him is defensive. Hostile. Regretful.

None of the above.

"San." You call him, almost defeatedly. "You and I both know we shouldn't have done that. I'm rotating in your lab."

"I know, the surface of it is terrible. It's wrong by the university's code and policies. But, I'm asking you."

"Asking me what exactly?"

"Do you think it shouldn't have happened?" Well, no, you think. If you were being completely and utterly honest, you would say no. You would say you wanted it because you thought he felt the same. You would say you wanted him so badly; fuck the rules in the book! But, you don't say anything, and it's enough for San to know exactly what you wanted without you having to say it out loud. "Y/N." He says softly before lifting your chin with his free hand. You don't even realize you've been playing with his other hand, fingers softly intertwining with his as you ponder on the question. "Have dinner with me. Let me take you out on a date." 

"San." You slightly frown. Not because of him, but because of the entire situation as a whole. It's still all so much and so, so confusing. You've never had to navigate through treacherous waters like this.

"What's wrong, hm? You can tell me anything, remember?"

"I'm just scared."

"About what?"

"This, whatever this is. I don't even know what to call it, we shouldn't even be doing this. If anyone finds out, it could ruin you. It could ruin everything you've worked so hard for." He shakes his head. 

"This is not gonna ruin anything. I—" He pauses, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I want you, Y/N. I wanna explore this with you. It's been confusing and it's been difficult to navigate my feelings because I didn't know if you felt the same, but the other night—" He lets out a small breath. "You really do make me feel some type of way that no one else does. I haven't been able to get my mind off of it." His eyes roam your features. "Off of you." You sit next to him silently, trying to debate between right and wrong, between yes and no, between needs and wants; still, your answer comes to San. Even if it is terrifying. "Let me take you to dinner. Or not, it's up to you. But, I wanna at least show you I mean it."

"Can I think about this?" You keep your eyes on him, still a bit anxious and scared about all of this blowing up in your faces. It was so risky, so dangerous, so.. thrilling. Because Choi San is asking you to dinner. He wants your attention, and he wants to take you out. How in the hell did you get here weeks after the quarter just started? 

"Of course you can." 

"If I go, I should probably drive this once, though. I just don't want anyone catching on." And this was probably helping you relieve the pressure of going on this date with him; you wouldn't have to be tied down from the car ride, to dinner— to your trek back home. It's not that you didn't want to either, but it seemed safer this way. It seemed less stressful this way. You could give yourself some breathing room in between the dinner itself.

Because these were treacherous waters.

"Are you sure? We can always meet somewhere else."

"San. There's eyes everywhere on campus and nearby, you know that."

"But, I did plan to pick you up and drive you, do all the work for you so you don't have to lift a finger." He pouts a bit and you giggle.

"And I love that. Thank you. I'm just trying to figure out how to keep a good balance for us right now. I'll think about it, okay?" He sighs and nods in slight defeat because as much as he wants to spoil you right away, you do have to be careful about your movements, actions. There are eyes everywhere on campus and people do question everything. Speaking from his own experience, word gets around quick.

He hates this. He knows he's putting you in a tough position, but god, he loves the way you make him feel. He feels giddy, like a lovesick teenage boy who is chasing after his long-time crush. He feels things when he sees you, feels his knees get a little weaker when he hears your laugh or sees you smile. He feels butterflies when you brush past him and give him that cute little subtle smirk. He feels the need to hold you close, to kiss you. Hold your hand and keep you safe. Wants to get to know every thing about you: your pet peeves, your hobbies, your family, what makes you happy. Do many, many other things to show you how attracted he is to you. How you make him feel.

He hasn't felt this in a long, long time— hasn't felt genuine happiness like this in a long, long time. 

He deserves to be happy, too. Especially after thinking for so long that he wasn't cut to be happy, wasn't meant to feel genuine connections and real relationships after his marriage fell through the way it did.

But, you're here and he refuses to let you get away.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thespiffynerd @vixensss @santineez @nopension

[comic-sans-chan]

Fic I'll never write where Dukat decides the biennial Cardassian Festival of Whatever the Fuck (it is never actually specified) should be hosted on Deep Space Nine as a way of bridging the gap between the Cardassian and Bajoran peoples. Sisko and Kira are both Ehhhh about it, but Dukat is obnoxiously persistent until finally the Bajoran government and Federation higher ups are like “K”, on the condition that no Cardassian military (or Order) personnel be allowed. All security for the event will be handled by Odo and Starfleet. Dukat is suspiciously cool with this, which puts everyone on alert, but soon Cardassian vendors and decorators start showing up and they turn out to be pretty chill people, so they let it happen.

While the preparations for the festival are underway, another operation has started. A motherfucker from Garak's past is doing typical motherfucker things on the station. One of these things is scouting Garak's quarters, learning the layout, tracking Garak's routine. It becomes clear very quickly that the rapidly increasing number of Cardassians on DS9 is putting Garak on edge, though, because he seems to be fiddling more with his security protocols, so the motherfucker realizes they need to make their move and they need to make it fast.

They succeed. Sort of. With the circumstances as they are, they had to get a little... creative, but it should do the trick.

By early next morning, every PADD, screen, and computer system on the station is streaming seventy-two different poems on a constant loop. Love poems. Ardent, anguished, often utterly indecent love poems, all with the central theme of being about one Doctor Julian Bashir.

Quark is one of the first to notice the problem, being the type of asshole who opens early despite this only increasing his bottom line by a fraction of a fraction. At first, he's furious that his systems have been tampered with, but after reading a few lines of what his normal menu and advertisements have been replaced with, he's laughing, and by the end of the third poem, he's on the floor.

"Odo!" he shouts, banging on the bastard's door twenty minutes later. "Odo, open up! We've got a problem!"

Odo slinks under the door and slips up between it and Quark's pounding fist with a glare. "Quark! I'm not on duty for another hour. What could possibly be so urgent?"

Quark's sharp little rat teeth are splitting his face clean in half as he holds up the PADD. "Take a look."

Odo scrolls through a couple poems, then squints and scrolls through several more. "Erotic love poetry? I didn't peg you for the type."

"To like erotica? Hoo, I thought you paid better attention than that, Constable."

Odo returns the PADD with a dry expression. "To read."

"Oh, you're hilarious." He taps Odo's chest with the PADD. "The whole station is filled with this stuff. My bar, the Replimat, the Celestial Cafe, the promenade. Someone's either desperate to make a statement, or we've been sabatoged."

Dramatic sci-fi music swells and we get a close-up of Odo’s eerily hairless face and nasal cavity.

The next few hours are dedicated to trying and failing to seize back the servers and briefing the bridge staff on the situation.

"Are we sure these are all about Doctor Bashir?" Sisko's voice booms across Ops. He's on his second cup of coffee and a pile of useless PADDs lay beside him.

Julian has remained stoic throughout the discussion and he remains so now, avoiding eye contact with anyone who's smiling a little too wide. Like Jadzia. "Oh, definitely," she says. "He's mentioned by name in three of them, and several others make a point of highlighting the subject's 'golden sand dune skin', 'aristocratic' features, and 'voice that never stops singing.' Sounds like Julian to me."

A few snickers break out, but Sisko is taking the matter seriously. Thank fuck, Julian thinks. It actually looks like it's giving him a headache, which would make two of them if Julian was capable of having headaches. The captain's rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "And the source..."

"There's a clear data trail back to Garak's quarters. Whoever did this, they wanted us to know where it came from," Kira reports. A muscle jumps in Julian's cheek.

"I tracked Garak down for his statement on the issue," Odo says, gruff, "and he told me he had nothing to do with the virus. In fact, he denied ever having laid eyes on the poems in his life. He's claiming he's been framed." He rolls his eyes.

"Okay," Jadzia says, "we all agree he's lying, right?"

"But which part..."

"Oh, they're Garak's. I've read enough Lloja of Prim to be familiar with traditional Kardasi meter and syntax, and that isn't even going into all the parallels drawn between our doctor and Prime. Sand, heat, rainforests. Bit of Romulan imagery in there, too, if I'm not mistaken. A lot of flowers and vines. Wasn't Garak a gardener?"

"I see no reason why anyone would want to embarass themselves like this," O'Brien cuts in before Jadzia can make it worse. "Even if he is trying to distract us or something, this seems counterproductive in the long term. Everyone’s watching him now, not just us. The rumor mill is running rampant. Not exactly a spy’s MO."

"He did blow up his shop once."

"Because someone was trying to kill him," Julian pipes up for the first time, looking concerned. "Do you think this might be another cry for help?"

"Oh, it's a cry for something," Jadzia quips, and Julian shuts the fuck up.

"Dax," Sisko snaps, like the good benevolent Wormhole Alien Jesus he is, and Dax shuts the fuck up, too. Sisko gives them all the stink eye. "Constable, you're nearly as familiar with Garak as the doctor is," he says, and holds a hand up before any jokes can be made. "What do you think?"

"I don't think he's behind this, sir. None of the pieces add up, and he seemed genuinely agitated when I spoke to him, in his way. At present, I believe he is as much a victim here as the rest of us."

Sisko sighs. "All right. Do we have any idea who is behind this?"

The room is silent for a time, before Odo reluctantly answers for everyone, "Not yet, sir."

"Find out," Sisko demands, "and Chief, get these damn poems off of my reports. Dismissed."

Julian is out of the room before anyone else has stood up.

The rest of the day is spent ducking in and out of his office, only treating those who ask for him by name and keeping all conversations strictly professional. Any mentions of poetry, the festival, Cardassians, or Garak are firmly sidelined, and on a couple occasions, rewarded with a none-too-gentle hypo. He skips lunch altogether and extends his shift by two hours to avoid the dinner rush.

By the time he's leaving the Infirmary, it's late. Unfortunately for him, not late enough that the halls aren't still speckled with observers to his personal soap opera. With the Festival of Frank’s Hot Dogs less than a week away, DS9 is becoming increasingly crowded with tourists, mostly Cardassian, but a surprising amount Bajoran, too–apparently this festival was a rare bright point during the Occupation, when their oppressors were not only lenient with them for once, but generous with food and drink and freedoms. It doesn't hurt that the only Cardassians on board are civilian rather than military, so the atmosphere is rather more colorful, courteous and conversational rather than cold, dark and aggressive. It would make Julian smile if he wasn't so busy being gawked at.

"I don't see it," one Cardassian man grumbles and Julian's accursed augmented ears pick up. "He's even smoother than a Bajoran."

"Oh, yeah," his companion replies, "just think of how easily he'd slide around."

"Tanett!"

"Oh, hush, Grandpa. You're just xenophobic. He's cute."

"Well, you be careful who hears you say that. That Garak fellow is in the Order, you know. Ears everywhere. You don't want to know what things a man like that is capable of."

"Wasn't he exiled? Hardly intimidating now. Apparently all he's capable of anymore is whimpering over an alien like a pakrela."

Julian covers his ears and walks faster.

But that just brings him within range of a cluster of Bajorans. "Oh, there's the doctor now," one is saying, up on the balcony. 

"The one the Cardassian tailor wrote about?"

"That poor fool. He thought they were friends, but here this whole time it was perverse. I can only imagine how much that hurts."

"Happened to my friend once. He thought a glinn was being kind because he was having a crisis of conscience and wanted to help him escape. No, he just wanted to–"

He could go to his quarters, but a flash of memory - Garak's bright eyes at the end of his bed, his figure encased in shadow - sends him in the opposite direction. Before long, he finds himself on an oft-unused Observation deck, since it offers no view of the wormhole or either Bajor or Cardassia's suns. It's blessedly empty, as usual, and Julian settles on a bench and stares into the dark nothingness of space for a long time.

At some point, he finds that his hand has retrieved the PADD from his medical bag, and the screen is lit up automatically with the first poem.

He reads well into the night.

—

The next morning finds Garak with a tall glass of rokassa juice and two eggs, staring intensely into a mysteriously operational PADD at the far end of Quark's bar. Quark pops out of his backroom like a jack-in-the-box.

"Ha! Well, if it isn't the man of the hour himself, gracing my fine establishment so soon after nearly destroying it. Do you know I've had to have menus printed, like we're in the dark ages? Do you have any idea how extensive my menu is? I ought to sue you for damages." He catches a glimpse of the PADD's screen and its decidedly unpoetic contents. "Hey, you fixed it? How?"

"It was just a simple virus. Viruses can be purged," Garak says without looking up. He barely seems aware of Quark's existence.

When no other words are forthcoming, Quark huffs. "Well, can you purge it from the rest of the station, then?"

"I gave the program to the Chief last night."

"And he didn't immediately come here to fix my bar? I'll have to file a complaint.”

Garak offers no reply. Just continues to stare into his PADD.

There are other customers he could be seeing to, but Quark can't pass up this golden opportunity. He's known Garak a long time and known of him even longer, and now that he has the guy's guts all neatly lined up on several dozen isolinear rods, he's never felt closer to the man. He makes a point of knowing things about his customers, but before yesterday, the most he knew about Garak was that he was an assassin, a tailor, a mean, weepy drunk, and friends with Bashir, Odo, and a smattering of other shopkeepers. That was it. But now...

He leans over the counter, closer to Garak's unblinking face. "You know," he says, with a smile rising slow on his cheeks, "if it's humans you like, I have a couple holosuite programs that might be just what you need."

Garak's gaze ascends as if on a motor, smooth and mechanical.

Good. He’s considering the bait. Now he just has to get him to bite. "All completely customizable. Skin, eyes, hair. You like long legs, they've got long legs. Scrawny, they're scrawny. Whatever you want. Although if you're really hung up on the one face, that can also be arranged. For the right price." When Garak just looks at him, Quark switches tactics. "Or maybe it's the uniform that does it for you? I've got 'em, but I'd suggest something out of my lingerie databases. I've still got some little Cardassian numbers filed away that I think even a man with your discerning tastes could appreciate. Just imagine, Doctor Bashir in a–"

He doesn't see the hand coming until it's already crushing his windpipe. Quark claws at it for several long, desperate moments while Garak continues to look.

Leeta scuttling over and yanking him away is what ultimately puts a stop to it, and it's while Quark is gasping in dramatic bursts of air that Leeta says in a rush, "Garak, please! Whatever he said, he didn't mean it!"

"Oh, I meant it," Quark coughs out with a high, strangled laugh, "he just didn't like it."

"Whatever conclusions you've drawn in the last twenty-six hours, allow me to dispel them," Garak says primly, as if he hadn't almost committed murder in broad daylight. "I am not a xenophile and I do not have feelings for Doctor Bashir. There are no less than two-hundred Cardassians currently aboard the station, and I assure you, none of them like me. Those poems were obviously planted."

Oh, but Quark is a little pissed now, unwise as that is. "Please, Garak," he says, "who has time to write that many poems about Julian just to mess with you? Two or three, maybe, but over seventy? If you're going to lie, at least don't insult our intelligence."

Garak's eyes flash and Quark ducks behind Leeta, repentant. Leeta sighs. "Garak, what's so bad about loving Julian?" she asks softly. "I thought the poems were really touching. It’s sweet how much you care for him."

But he's already staring into his PADD again. "I'm sorry, Miss Leeta, but I am a bit busy. Perhaps we can discuss my hypothetical feelings for your paramour another time."

"Julian and I have never been serious," she tries to assure him, but he's engrossed again, or at least pretending to be. Her and Quark share a look and leave him to it. Lesson learned.

"Let the bastard be pent up and miserable, then," Quark grumbles from the other end of the bar as he pours Table 3's drinks. A prickle on his neck has him looking up and there Garak's eyes are again, piercing, and Quark rushes off to deliver the drinks.

The three young Cardassians there are much more friendly. One has their nose stuck in one of the useless poetry PADDs while the other two smile at Quark while he sets out their orders.

"Three Raktajinos, extra bitter," Quark says, and is thanked. Polite. One even praises the drink's exoticness. Klingon coffee, exotic. Heh. "Your food will be out in a few."

Before he can finish turning, though, a hand is touching his arm. "What is the title of this anthology you include at every table?" the young man asks.

"Oh, that's not..." He sighs. "It's new. I can't remember."

"Find out for us, please," he says. "Works like these can be hard to come by on Prime and we make it our business to collect them. Whoever this author is, they're very unique."

"If these aren't banned on Prime already, they will be soon," his friend comments with a giggle.

"No doubt."

"'In my desolation, I am as weeds: Cut my roots and Let the waters take me, To drown and bloom anew, in You,'" the one with her nose in the PADD reads aloud, and shivers. "They'd burn the whole Central Archive down just for this one. It's so explicit."

"Let me see that," the boy demands, as the other one is already surging over to read over the girl's shoulder. Watching them fight over the PADD has Quark thinking back to the isolinear rods in his safe, and he hums thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder.

Garak isn't looking.

—

Glinn Halon Duvur. Former underling of Gul Dukat. Out of uniform, vacationing on Deep Space Nine with his wife and nine children. Spends his days gambling while his kids play unsupervised in the holosuites and his wife visits old friends. 

Beloved uncle sent to trial by the Obsidian Order in 2356 and executed that same day for crimes of attempted sabotage against Cardassia.

Garak watches the man wander down the promenade sans his proud lineage, jingling a fat little bag of gold-pressed latinum and yet-unconverted leks. He wanders out of range, so Garak switches to the next camera and there that unfortunate face is again. He drums his fingers on the desk. It won't be long now.

An alert rings in his ear and he almost initiates the shockfield on impulse, but the flash of smooth, brown skin on a monitor stays his hand. The knocking comes, and that haunting voice calls out, "Garak! Are you there?"

Garak rests his head next to the surveillance screens.

Predictably, the doctor tries to input his override, but the door remains shut. There's a long pause.

"Garak..." Julian sounds irate. Garak hums. "Did you deprogram my override code? Nevermind how illegal that is, that's dangerous! What if you're injured? Or fall ill?"

He says this just after attempting to abuse his station privileges for personal reasons. Infuriating hypocrite.

"Oh, my barging in at random, odd hours is no less than you deserve, Garak," Julian says as if in response to Garak's thoughts. "You set that precedent in our relationship yourself."

Terrible man.

"Fine. I'll give you some more time, since you want it so badly, but I'll be back and when I am, that override had better work. If it doesn’t, I promise there will be hell to pay, my friend."

Beautiful man.

"Goodbye, Mr. Garak."

Goodbye, Doctor.

Glinn Duvur dies two hours later of alcohol poisoning while his wife is in bed with Gul Rilimn's wife.

—

“I just can’t believe it,” Kira is bitching. Jadzia smiles and sips her drink, looking out over the Replimat balcony at all the happy brunchgoers. “A Cardassian writing poetry about something that isn’t conquest or the wonders of dictatorial rule or, at best, the pride of the traditional family nobly bowing and scraping. I’ve never seen it.”

“It would certainly seem to run counter to Cardassian values.”

“And about Julian!” she shrieks in her inside voice, slapping her hands down on the table. “Garak the spy, writing love poetry about Julian. Going on and on about his–his...”

“Ass?” Jadzia offers.

“Eyes. His eyes! Ohhh, I knew he wanted to have sex with him, everyone knew that, but to write about his eyes like... like that? It’s practically Bajoran.”

“That’s true.”

Kira stops long enough in her tirade to eye her, and presses her lips into a thin line. “How are you so calm about this?”

Jadzia takes another sip. “I’m just fascinated,” she says. “I’ll admit, I’ve been looking at this more through Tobin’s eyes than my own. Have I ever told you that he met Lloja of Prim during his exile?” 

“He did not.”

“He did, and Lloja flirted with him outrageously. It was embarrassing, looking back. Of course, nothing ever came of it, because Tobin was always hopelessly blind to those sorts of things even without the language barrier, but his children liked to joke that many of Lloja’s poems were about him.”

Kira’s jaw is hanging. “Were they?”

Jadzia grins and shrugs. Kira laughs.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Perhaps,” Jadzia allows, “but I do wonder... Being able to call nervous, asexual Tobin the lover of Lloja of Prim would have been quite the notch in my belt. Think of the stories I could have told! And now here Julian is with the opportunity. I know it’s not the same, I mean, it’s Garak. But, you have to admit, to write about him like that...”

“He must really love him,” Kira finishes for her, stumped. “I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

“I didn’t see it, either,” Jadzia confesses. “I was still wrestling with the idea that they were actually friends. I thought their association was strictly professional and all the books and flirting were just a front.” She cradles her head in her hands suddenly and sighs. “Ugh, but those poems. The poems are so good! Kira...”

“I know,” she moans. “They’re heart-wrenching. Which one are you on now?”

“Thirty-nine. I came back home, but I came back gone.”

“Ouch.”

“I know.”

A shout from below interrupts them and they both shoot out of their seats. Below, a Cardassian man has just had a beam fall on top of him. Jadzia and Kira bound down the stairs to him, Jadzia already slapping a hand on her comm badge. 

“Dax to Infirmary, a man has just been crushed, possibly impaled. Send a medical team to Replimat and be ready for emergency beam out.”

“Acknowledged, we’re on our way,” Girani says, but already Kira is looking up at Jadzia helplessly, the man’s wrist laying limp between her hands.

“He’s gone.”

“Shit!” Jadzia hunches over, hands on her knees. “That’s the third one today. Are Cardassians always this accident prone? No wonder you won the war.”

“No,” Kira says. “They’re not. You don’t think...”

“I don’t know,” Jadzia says grimly, and looks around at the crowd that’s formed. All Cardassian, all terrified. “But we need to find out.”

—

A Cardassian is sitting at the bar. This isn’t an unusual sight now, with the Festival of 90s Funk and Beyond coming up, but seeing one so young and looking so hunted is odd. Quark approaches him casually.

“What’ll you have?”

The Cardassian’s eyes dart. “Uh...” He leans over suddenly, cups both hands over his mouth, and whispers, “E. G. Special.”

Christ, these kids are going to kill him. “Coming right up,” he says in a normal person voice, and reaches under the bar for a glass. A little drink-mixing magic later, a beautiful fizzy blue drink is sitting between them, with an isolinear rod tucked neatly in the straw.

The Cardassian takes the drink between both hands excitedly, and Quark snaps his fingers in front of him. “Oh! Right,” the kid stutters, and all but launches the latinum at Quark’s face. “Thank you!” And off he goes, out of the bar with the glass still tight in his grasp.

“Idiot,” Quark mutters to himself, crouching carefully down to pick the latinum up off the floor without dirtying his expensive pants. “You’re supposed to take the straw, not the entire glass. That’s it, I’m switching to plastic. These little rebel brats don’t deserve my ni—Oh, hello, Constable! I didn’t see you there. What can I get you?”

Odo looks as unimpressed as ever. “That’s a funny question since last I checked, I don’t drink.”

“Ah, right, because you’re a liquid. How could I forget. You know, one of these days, I ought to serve you up with a little umbrella, see how people like it. I’d bet you taste bitter.” Odo harrumphs, and Quark makes himself busy with wiping down the counter. “Well, out with it then. What nefarious scheme am I up to now? I love to hear your little stories.”

Four isolinear rods drop onto the counter, right where Quark was just cleaning. “Hey now,” he says, throwing a performative glare at the changeling. “Careful. If you shatter glass in my bar, you’re cleaning it up.”

“I just had the most interesting conversation with the Tokal family,” Odo says, steamrolling right over him. “It seems their four darling children had somehow come into some questionable reading material. They tried searching for it in the Central Archives and yet, despite it being clearly Cardassian in origin, they could not find it. And I don’t need to tell you that when a piece of Cardassian reading material isn’t in the Central Archives...”

Quark, from his plastered position on the floor, stares up into Odo’s face directly horizontal to his and smiles. “What?”

“It’s illegal,” Odo sneers, stretching his body even further over the bar and nearly sending Quark starfishing. 

“Okay! Odo! I get it! But what does that have to do with me?”

“Quark!”

“Okay, okay! Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I’ll stop! I’ll stop, okay?”

“I know you’re going to stop, because I am going to confiscate every copy of Garak’s poetry that you have absconded with and destroy them.”

Quark gasps. “Book burning? In this day and age?”

“Garak did not give his permission for you to sell his work! He didn’t even want anyone to see it in the first place! Those poems were stolen. Now, I expect a list of every person you sold a copy to and a full and complete refund to be issued by tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?”

Quark glowers. “You’ve made yourself something, all right.”

“Quark...”

“Okay! All right. Consider it done.”

-

Turora Lumok. Obsidian Order operative and old colleague. Usually in deep cover in the Organian sectre, but has abandoned post to explore the space station. Barren, unattached. Cold. A model agent, if you ignore her unfortunate habit of going rogue and eliminating civilians on a whim. 

Recruited into the Order by Enabran Tain’s former right hand, Euluk Bucun, who was assassinated by Elim Garak in 2341 under orders from Enabran Tain for suspicions of treason. Turora Lumok disciplined shortly afterward by Elim Garak for complaining that she had wanted to be the one to kill that bitch.

Garak watches as the woman pretends to touch up her makeup while scouting for cameras. “Oh, Lumok, you always were woefully obvious. Have you been expecting me? I wonder why.”

Satisfied with the positions of the cameras, she puts away her mirror and strolls out of sight.

Garak shakes his head. “Fool. You forget how long I’ve lived on this wretched station. I don’t need to see you every second to know where you are.”

But then, the smell of antiseptic. Starfleet issue soap. Herbal shampoo, unique, robust. Gels. Oils. Sweat. 

He’s near.

Forcing calmness with a deep, measured breath, he takes off his eyepiece and slips it into his sleeve. He pays for the food he barely ate. He stands. He turns.

And is promptly thrust into the dark, deep woods of Julian Bashir’s eyes. “There you are, Garak! I’ve been looking all over for you,” the doctor says as if it’s just a regular day on Deep Space Nine. His hot, mammalian body caging him tightly in place against the table betrays the ruse. “Who was it you were talking to?”

Garak tries to step around him. Julian steps with him. “Oh, only ever myself. Forgive me, but you’ve caught me just on my way out. I have a strict appointment at 2.”

There’s Julian’s hand now. On his shoulder. Garak is calm. This is normal. “Well, why don’t I walk you there then.”

“My dear Doctor, I couldn’t rob you of your meal. Clearly you’ve just walked in.”

“Actually, I’ve found I’m craving something a bit different now.”

Garak makes to step around Julian again, and still Julian’s steps match his. It’s like they’re dancing. He doesn’t let this deter him. He’s not sure he’s capable of letting anything deter him now, with his heart trying to pound out of his throat. He keeps stepping doggedly forward, and Julian keeps mirroring, still with that damned hand burning through his tunic. “Well, you only have so much time before you must return to the infirmary, I know. Do not allow me to delay you in securing a table at a different locale.”

“Oh, but you’ve already delayed me so long. What’s a few more minutes?” A peek of teeth, a hint of warning. “Though I will admit... I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.”

“Then don’t.” Finally, Garak manages to elbow past this madness and shoot out of the restaurant. The station is so crowded these days, it’s short work to get lost in it. In a sea of ridges and black hair, Garak slips his eyepiece back on and lets the wave take him. 

“Garak!”

Oh, for the Union’s sake—

He does not run. He does not stumble. He walks normally and not desperately, keeping his eye on both the path to the turbolift and Lumok. She’s down the corridor now, pretending to check her makeup again like an imbecile. Just a few paces more. Almost there...

“Garak, you’re the best dressed one here! You are not difficult to spot, you ridiculous dandy! Oh, no offense, Ma’am. Lovely scarf. Excuse me.”

There.

In the reflection of the mirror, Garak makes eye contact with the rogue and taps in the correct sequence on the device sewed into the seam of his pants just as the turbolift doors close behind him.

Like that, Turora Lumok is beamed into space and dies instantly, without a soul to mourn her, and Elim Garak walks back to his quarters with a hand over his mouth and a warmth on his shoulder, without a soul to mourn him, either.

—-

The Festival of Fierce and Fantastic Frogs is two days away and already it is being protested.

Outside Quark’s Bar is a growing army of dissident children with voice amplifiers and holoprojectors shouting to the stars that if they don’t get their porn back, they’ll tear it all down. Signs are projected in the air with essays cycling through them that look to be several pages each, a small holographic fire barely reaching ankle-height is lighting up the length of the promenade, and – perhaps most disturbingly – a comically inaccurate approximation of Odo is rotating at the center of the group, fitted in the typical regalia of the Cardassian military and holding a Klingon bat’leth. It is certainly... something.

“They’re Cardassians,” Quark is saying as he pours out some root beers. “They’ve probably never seen a protest in their lives, they don’t know what they’re doing. The Union puts an end to things like this pretty fast on the surface.”

“Heh,” Jadzia says, “what happens on DS9, stays on DS9.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Kira asks.

“It’s something Julian likes to say. Basically, they figure they can get away with speaking their minds here.”

Kira drums her fingers on the bar, staring into the flailing protestors thoughtfully. 

Right then, Odo arrives back on the scene. It looks like he’s trying to get through, respectfully, but the protestors are not making it easy. Jadzia and Kira come to his rescue just as about fifteen Cardassians start forming a blockade around him.

“I walked around as you do, investigating the endless stars,” one young woman is yelling at him while he stands there with big helpless baby eyes, “and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked, the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind!” 

“I don’t know what that means,” Odo says consolingly.

“Clearly!”

“Okay, okay, let him through!” Kira wiggles her way between the crowd and Odo, snatching him by the arm like a fish with a hook. “He’s not your enemy here, he was just upholding your laws!”

“The Cardassian government has no jurisdiction on a Bajoran station!”

“He made his choices!”

“Beautiful Julian would be ashamed of you! Repent! Repent!”

Kira and Jadzia manage to reel him most of the way through the protesters and he shapeshifts the rest of the journey. The protestors try to follow, but Quark bustles over to stop them. “No, no demonstrations inside! Remember who your allies are,” he says, and they all cow back. “Thank you.”

Odo ripples his form a couple times to make sure everything’s back in the right place and harrumphs. “Allies, Quark?”

“Yes, allies. It’s terrible what you’ve done to them. You can’t police art, Odo–-this is culture we're talking about here, the very bedrock of society.”

“And I’m sure this virtuous attitude of yours has nothing to do with the incredible profit you made and lost at the expense of our mutual friend.”

“Oh, I did him a favor.” Quark uncaps another bottle of Kanar and gestures back to the entrance, with its swarm of frothing Cardassian children. “Look, he’s got fans!”

“How has Garak been handling all this?” Kira asks Odo, sharing a look with Jadzia. “I haven’t heard a peep out of him since he gave us that antivirus program.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Didn’t you have breakfast with him yesterday?”

“Hmmm, that would have been routine. Except he didn’t show. When I made it back to my office, I found a message from him apologizing, telling me he’s so busy with orders he’s lost all track of time.”

“How has he been getting commissions?” Jadzia asks. “His shop’s been closed all week.”

Odo rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure the reality is he’s simply avoiding the issue. Dr. Bashir has informed me he’s been treating him like ‘the black plague’ as well.” 

“Julian’s one to talk. He practically pole-vaulted over a vedek the other day to get away from me.” 

“Speak of the devil,” Quark says, looking towards the door, and everyone turns just as the commotion starts–or, more accurately, the commotion abruptly stops. 

The protestors have all gone quiet, in apparent awe as they part around Julian like the red sea around Moses. He’s smiling stupidly as he stands in the center of them, nodding at something a Cardassian man is exclaiming. It’s an incredibly awkward scene, and Quark starts choking at some of the things his ears are picking up. “They’ve deified him,” he tells them, and Jadzia bursts into giggles at the idea, but Quark isn’t joking. “Really. He might as well be one of the prophets to them. You read the poems. You know.”

Ugh. Kira wrinkles her nose in disgust. The worst kind of blasphemy–horny blasphemy. “What is he even doing here?” she asks. 

“Getting his head inflated,” Jadzia says dryly, because now that Quark has mentioned it, it’s pretty clear from the shit-eating grin on Julian’s face that that’s exactly what’s happening. 

“Poor Garak.” Quark says it absentmindedly, but the comment gets several eyes turned on him. He’s shaking his head as he watches the scene unfold. “First, he falls for a human… humiliating… but then that love becomes public knowledge and several young beautiful Cardassians decide that he’s onto something, and now that human is going to get more action in a week than he’s seen his entire life. I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of more than a few star-crossed romances, but this might just be the saddest.”

“Julian wouldn’t have an orgy the same week the whole station found out Garak’s in love with him,” Jadzia says, insulted on his behalf.

Quark hefts a tray up onto his shoulder. “He just did,” he says as he leaves to go do his job, and Jadzia whips her head around to see Julian escorting two attractive Cardassians away from the protest. Her jaw drops.

“Bastard,” Kira spits, surprising everyone, herself most of all. Those poems must’ve affected her more than she realized.

Odo clears his throat unnecessarily. “I’m no expert on the behavior of solids, but it seems to me that neither party is handling this situation well.”

“I’ll tell you how the pakrela should be handling this,” an older Cardassian sitting at the far end of the bar cuts in, with a twitch to him that makes it clear he’s more than a few deep. “He should be settling his assets, because he doesn’t have long now. Whatever his human is doing is the least of his worries. Ha. Hehe. Being a traitor wasn’t enough for him. No, now he’s gone and corrupted the next generation with his degeneracy. Exile was too soft a punishment. Uh-huh.”

Kira opens her mouth to tell him to fuck off, but Odo touches her shoulder. “You speak as if you know him,” he notes mildly, because of course, the exact reason for Garak’s exile isn’t public record. It’s barely even private record. The Order doesn’t work that way–or didn’t, as it stands. It is interesting that this man is acting like he has classified information despite being a civilian. 

But then, sometimes day drinkers just like to spout speculation as fact.

The man looks into his glass and laughs at his reflection. “Who doesn’t know Garak these days? But that’s temporary. He’ll be forgotten soon enough, just like the Order.” He finishes his drink and gets up. He insincerely mutters some friendly Cardassian farewell and starts to walk past them, but Kira can’t let it go.

“Excuse me, but what’s your name, sir? You’ve been so informative.”

He looks at her for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he says, and elbows past the protesters.

—

“Solt Mebol, left behind a widow and child six years ago when he was tragically killed in a transporter accident. In reality, he accepted an undercover mission which required him to fake his death and have his bond dissolved. A significant sacrifice. Certainly not one many Cardassians could have made.”

The Cardassian stares at Garak sitting on his couch. Turning, he tries to exit his temporary quarters, but the door won’t open.

Garak tuts. “Oh, you know better than that, Mebol.” He taps his disruptor with his forefinger, resting harmlessly against his knee. “The festival isn’t for another couple days, yet here you are. Catching up with old friends before the festivities, I assume? Only I haven’t found you in anyone’s company but your own. You must be lonely. Please, let me alleviate your loneliness for a while.”

The Cardassian sighs at the closed door. “Solt, is it?”

“I can tell you the names of your wife and child as well, if you’d like, and the city they live in. Do you know your wife never rebonded? Unusual behavior for a Romulan. Quite dangerous, as I understand it.”

Solt steps carefully into the small living space and sits in the chair opposite Garak, with the coffee table between them. “As one of the last living members of the Order, I don’t suppose you would consider letting me go?”

Garak smiles pleasantly. “I would be delighted.”

“Would you? I had a deal with Central Command and they’ve been good to me so far. You, however, have been known to…” He eyes the disruptor casually turned in his direction.

“Yes, I imagine I must be something of a mystery these days to my people. I have been… squirrely, is what I suppose a human would say, and I must as well now that I’ve been painted with their brush. Oh, it is an incredible sin, I know. That I should enjoy the company of an attractive alien while in exile.”

Solt snorts. “You expect me to believe those poems were the natural result of a fling?”

“I don’t expect you to believe anything you do not wish to. I only say that it’s convenient that I should be seen as even more traitorous just as a swarm of Cardassians should enter the station.”

“What’s convenient is that you’re still alive. You have friends in high places willing to go to bat for you, in spite of everything you’ve done. It’s a disgrace. You are a selfish disloyal anarchist and no one is holding you accountable, because you just happened to be good at your job once and everyone likes the idea of having you as a potential weapon should the need for one arise. Until then, they’re content to keep you in a cabinet collecting dust and sentiment. You can wave that disruptor all you want, but we both know you make a poor operative now. You’re in love.” 

Garak is still smiling, but Solt can see the signs of a grimace. Dusty, indeed. Too passionate. Too human. “I’m hardly so foolish. You know better than I the dangers of such things in our line of work. You’re little better than a puppet now that you’ve had a whiff of the truth, Mebol.”

“You’re right.” Solt attempts to raise one eye ridge, despite it being unfit for such maneuvers, and leans forward towards that disruptor. “Pull my strings, then, and let’s test that grip Bashir has on yours.”

—

Kira crashes into Garak’s quarters and kickflips past all his booby traps like Indiana Jones’ hotter cousin.

“What the fuck, Richard?” is basically what she says, only it’s in character, so it’s more like, “What the fuck, Garak!”

Garak spins around in his maniacal villain chair with a look of surprise. “How did you get in here, Major?” Miles bustles his way in after her with his impractically enormous toolkit, and Garak lets out an, “Ah,” then, sedately, “I suppose Dr. Bashir filed a complaint about my tampering with the door codes. Of course, there’s a perfectly logical explanation. You see, it–”

“This isn’t about door codes, Garak,” Kira yells. “What I want to know is why our best suspect for the sudden influx of murders on the station was just found drowned in his own toilet!”

“Oh my,” Garak says. “What an unfortunate end.”

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. We know what you’re capable of, but we’re good people and we didn’t want to accuse a victim until we had exhausted the rest of our line-up. Only, interestingly enough, they’re all dead, so now…” she marches over with the fury of the Prophets on her heels and stands imposingly over him, her teeth clenched, “here we are.”

“That is interesting.” He runs a hand down a roll of fabric in his lap, smoothing it. “I suppose you must have some of that ironclad evidence that the Federation so treasures.”

Kira glares at him.

Garak feigns looking around. “Oh, but I can’t help but notice the good Constable isn’t here with you. What could that mean? Surely not that you broke into my quarters without due cause or a hint of warning–at your own word, not even to fix my glitching door. For all you knew, I could have been in here writing one of my vaunted Bashir epics.”

Kira’s hands are in fists now. “The evidence we have would be more than enough to have your face plastered on every viewscreen in Cardassia and you know it.”

“The Federation and Bajoran legal processes do seem a tad inefficient in moments like these, don’t they?”

“Okay,” Miles cuts in, because he has Turbo PTSD and is not in the mood for a flare up. “I think I'll just wait in the hallway, then. Holler if you need me. Good luck, Major.”

Kira and Garak spend a few moments watching him waddle out of the room and then go back to staring each other down. 

“Look, you ass,” Kira starts, “we couldn’t link every victim to the Cardassian government or some third-party organization, but we were able to link enough of them to recognize that these aren’t just random nobodies having ‘accidents.’ Someone was able to break into your computer and embarrass you and you don’t like that so you’re pitching a fit. I can’t have Odo arrest you – yet – but I can tell you to cut it out. This vigilantism isn’t helping–”

That gets a reaction. “Vigilantism!”

“Well, what would you call it?”

“Self-defense.”

“They attacked you?”

“Possibly.”

“Goddamn you, Garak! Just… don’t do this anymore, okay?”

Garak looks at her with innocent astonishment, like he’s still bewildered by her totally plausible accusations. “Well. You have my word, I suppose,” he says, bemused.

—

Gul Skrain Dukat. Blessed with a wife, seven children, two sets of living parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents, minus one father. Habitually cheats with lower ranked military officials, slaves, and barely legal adults, unbenownst to his family. Father was interrogated by Elim Garak and executed by the Union over live broadcast in the year 2350 for the crime of being a piece of shit. 

Elim Garak was shortly thereafter levied with an amateurish execution attempt by Gul Dukat. It failed.

The second attempt will succeed, but at a great cost.

The Festival of Filthy Fucking Foot Fetishists has officially begun, but Garak is struggling to feel any enthusiasm. He is surrounded by his people. The station has been dimmed by 15% to better suit Cardassian eyes and misting stations have been set up in limited locations. Extinct and invented flowers crafted by Cardassian and Bajoran artisans decorate the banisters and doorways. A wash of blue, green, and sparkling gold lights up every direction. There is the smell of freshly prepared Cardassian sweets on the air, a gentle warmth suffuses the atmosphere, and children are laughing on the promenade. It’s the first time the station has felt not just tolerable, but nearly pleasant, in years. 

But then, Garak has never felt particularly welcome among his people. As a child, he was an orphan generously cared for by service workers and sponsored by a government official, and as an adult, he was a member of the Order, which granted him more fear and loathing than it did admiration and respect. Companionship, in its truest form, was a rare thing to come by and not something he was encouraged to come by at all.

Perhaps that is why Dr. Bashir blindsided him. 

In any case, Garak is delicately balanced on the line between proper misery and numbness. He gave up imbibing around the same time that he gave up the implant—or rather, the implant gave up on him—but he’s on his third cup now, wandering through the festivities with no particular direction in mind. The exact spot of this last operation isn’t important, only the timing.

He finishes his drink while a group play a spirited game of cold moba in front of him. It shouldn't be long now.

All the nearby screens suddenly flicker from the event schedule to Dukat’s sharp grin and Garak hums. There we are. He knew the bitch wouldn’t be able to resist showing his face.

“Welcome everyone to the biennial Festival of–” a baby wails, “generously hosted here on Deep Space Nine by Bajor and the Federation, and of course organized by our own prodigous Detapa Council. Ah, that wormhole… quite the view, isn’t it?”

Garak looks around for another food stall that serves alcohol. 

There aren’t any stalls in his immediate vicinity, but there is a young Cardassian couple marching towards him while making dogged eye contact. 

Oh no. 

Garak starts to make a break for it. Not too fast, it won’t do to cause a stir, but there are a number of very good reasons for him to stay far away from any Cardassians who might recognize him right now. Especially if the source of that recognition is those damn poems he was too stupid and sentimental to destroy.

Before he can make it more than a few steps, however, he looks up to see another few Cardassians working their way towards him, also making eye contact.

No, no, no.

He makes to move towards the stairs then, only for his eyes to land squarely on him. 

Him, wearing the silky green outfit he lovingly crafted for him a few months ago. Him, shining in the festival lights, casting him in an even more arresting shade of gold than usual. Him, looking determined and coming straight towards him.

Oh, fuck no.

“Garak,” Julian calls out, likely reading the panic on his face and stance and soul.

“Today, I am not a Gul, though,” Dukat is saying. “I am but a humble representative of the Cardassian Union in its totality, and as such, I would like to thank Colonel Kira Nerys and Captain Benjamin Sisko for their hand in this week’s festivities. They have been nothing if not accommodating these last few weeks while our coordinators ran rampant through their halls.”

He should have accounted for the possibility of this. Thinking of Julian had become excruciating as of late, but that was no excuse. Whatever interaction Julian had been hoping to have with him couldn’t be allowed, not now, and not only for the sake of Garak’s traitorous, disgusting feelings. Even if it would give the sweet man closure, it would not be worth his life. 

“Now, it may be a bit unorthodox, but I thought it would be only fitting if the first Reenactment was carried out by our benevolent hosts, and the Lakarian City Acting Troupe were all too happy to take them under their wing.”

More eyes are turning towards the screen now, the laughing and playing and sloshing of cups quieting down. Julian is nearly with him, his approach halted only by the gathering crowd, and Garak can only pretend to be interested in Dukat’s speech while he racks his brain desperately for a solution. Any solution. Anything.

“I trust that the history of Cardassia is in capable hands.”

The screen flickers again and changes to a shot of one of Quark’s holodecks, where a lone Bajoran man stands in a beam of red light.

A hand grabs Garak roughly by the arm, and he nearly cries with relief when he sees that it’s Lumok.

Well, Lumok with the face and attire of a Bajoran, but that ever-present spark of unchecked malice in her eye is quite unmistakable to someone who worked with her for over a decade. 

“Surprised, you ugly old regnar?” she asks under the actor’s impassioned opening monologue.

He sucks in a breath as the sharp edge of something presses into his back. “Impossible. They found your body caught on one of the station’s spires.”

“A simple bait and switch,” she purrs, pressing the weapon closer, slicing through his tunic. A pity. This was one of his nicer ones. “You’ve gotten sloppy.”

He manufactures a smile. “A knife, then? A favorite of yours, I recall, but terribly messy for such a public venue. Not to mention if your aim is even an inch off, I’ll be in and out of the infirmary within the day, as if nothing at all had happened.”

“Don’t lecture me,” she growls. “You can’t do that anymore. You’re not anyone to anyone. Your master is dead, and what did you do the second you were off leash for the first time in your life? You went and choked yourself on the first Starfleet sotl you could find. You’re pathetic.”

It took incredible effort to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his skull. “Oh, just stab me already.”

“I’m not going to stab you. I’ve done a bit of outsourcing, in fact.” She slid the knife from his lower back to his side and looped her arm through his, pinning him in place with a wide smile. “All I had to do was suggest to my new friend that you were infiltrating the Federation. That you were poisoning them against Bajor from the inside, uniting Cardassia and Starfleet in a secret alliance under the guise of wooing the CMO. No, no, you won’t be killed by one of your peers. Your death will be at the hands of a perfect stranger. A pointless death for a pointless man.” She leans in and whispers into his aural ridge, “It always was so easy to make people hate you.”

The next few seconds are a flurry of chaos. One second he’s watching as Human, Bajoran and Cardassian actors alike are all holding hands and reciting ancient poetry and the next he’s on the floor with a searing weight bearing down on him from calf to shoulder. There are screams and footfalls coming from all directions and Odo’s voice is immediately discernible shouting over the commotion. His back is on fire, he can’t breathe, and there’s a slash in his side, but he doesn’t miss the thump of Lumok’s body a few feet away, dead before she hits the ground.

“Garak? Garak?” the weight on him is speaking frantically, pawing at his head and shoulders. The weight shifts and the hands flip him onto his back. Those same hands pat him down, blazing a path down his chest and his stomach and his sides, stopping at the superficial gash near his rib, and Garak knows who this is before he even opens his eyes.

“Garak,” Julian sighs with relief. Garak was meant to be dead by phaser blast right now, but instead Julian Bashir is smiling down at him like he’s important, kneeling beside him, his hands on him, branding him with their incredible heat. It shouldn’t be possible. No one could be that fast. 

“Doctor,” he manages on a wheeze. One of his ribs might be broken, actually.

“Dukat,” Sisko growls from the monitor in billowing robes and a long flowing wig, surrounded by flowers.

—

“Explain,” Sisko commands.

Having decided that showing weakness right now can only help his case, Garak is sitting hunched to the side, holding his reeling head in one hand. It’s through a hiss that he replies, “A woman named Turora Lumok was responsible for sabotaging the station with those poems forged with my data signature. The Bajoran woman who was just assassinated–she was no Bajoran, but rather one of the last remaining members of the Obsidian Order. She was hired by Dukat to kill me during the festival under the guise of a hate crime. No doubt because of her indomitable reputation, I’m sure. A number of Cardassian casualties these past several days were at her hands.”

Sisko walks to the viewport to stare out into the stars for a moment, processing this. “All his talk of friendship between Bajor and Cardassia…” he trails off, the ghost of a sneer on his lips as he turns back around. “His goal was just the opposite. He wanted to destroy any hope of cooperation.”

“And get me out of the way in the process,” Garak grumbles. 

Sisko hums and wanders over to Garak’s side, looking down at him thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me who assassinated Ms. Lumok?”

Garak stares at the floor through his fingers, his eyes glazed.

“Or who your informant is on Dukat’s involvement?”

“Captain,” Garak mutters, not looking up, “I have sat here concussed after an attempt on my life and shared with you everything that I know, and here you have not even told me who the tailor of your magnificent robe is.” He tugs half-heartedly at a strip of embroidery on the fabric. “I must admit, I am feeling a touch betrayed you didn’t come to me.”

Sisko flicks his eyes up to Julian, who has been standing in the corner with his hands behind his back. “Very well, Mr. Garak. I release you into Dr. Bashir’s care for now, but I expect to continue this conversation soon.” He massages his forehead. “Once I figure out what to do about this damned festival.”

Julian comes over to help Garak out of his chair, but Garak snaps upright and to the door before he can touch him. Sisko takes the opportunity to lean into Julian’s face and whisper, “Get more information out of him.” The doctor nods.

Julian isn’t angry when he steps out of Sisko’s office and sees that Garak is walking in the exact opposite direction of the infirmary, but he is disappointed. 

“Mr. Garak,” he says urgently once he’s caught up to the idiot.

Mr. Garak interrupts him in the same tone, “Now, now, my dear doctor, we both know I have a dermal regenerator in my quarters, so we need not extend–”

“And I think we both know this is about much more than a few bumps and bruises. I’m afraid the time for beating around the bush passed quite a while ago.”

“You’re right, Doctor,” Garak says, coming to an abrupt stop and rounding on him with wild eyes. “There is an urgent matter we must discuss.” Julian’s eyebrows raise, and Garak nods severely. “Oh, yes, let us not ‘beat around the bush.’ We should talk about how you threw yourself directly into the line of a lethal phaser blast on the one in a millionth chance that you might save my life. The cost of such an action being almost certainly your own life, and yet, here you stand, and here I stand. Will wonders never cease.” Julian opens his mouth, but Garak raises a finger. “Nevermind that I was in the middle of an altercation with a very dangerous, very volatile woman who would not have hesitated for a second to dispose of you. She had a nasty habit of that. Now I knew that you were naive, Doctor, Doctor! I knew that! What I did not know – what I never could have guessed after all these years – was that you are an idiot.” 

Julian stares back into Garak’s hissing face, unimpressed. Garak feels a wave of deja-vu and does not like it. It has no place here. And yet, Julian takes in a breath and smiles, raising his shoulders. “All right, Garak. If it’s really so important to you, we can talk about your suicide attempt.”

“What?” Garak bites out.

“You were going to let yourself get shot, yes?”

“I was n–” Garak starts to lie, disgusted, but is stopped by Julian stepping entirely too close. He stumbles back a step, then another when Julian attempts to crowd him again, and the familiarity of the routine has him shutting his eyes, rueful. They’re dancing again. It’s humiliating, the things this man makes him do, how effortlessly he can gain the upperhand. Most of the time without even having to lift a finger.

“You figured out Dukat’s plan and arranged for Lumok to die if she succeeded, but you expected her to. You didn’t expect to be saved,” the doctor tells his blank, unresponsive face. His eyes are still closed, his hands tense at his sides, but he knows Julian’s stepped closer again by the heat of his livid breath. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Very well. I didn’t figure it out. I was informed.”

“So, the captain was right.” He sounds bored, but Garak seizes his chance. His eyes open in a sudden burst of animation.

“Yes, I had an informant. I believe the major was familiar with him, a fellow by the name of Damoc who was recently presumed dead? Though I knew him far better as Mebol. We first met on Romulus, you see. In the event of my death, he had strict instructions to reveal Dukat’s plot in my stead and protect my remaining assets. In return, he was to receive some valuable coordinates, which by now he will have long accessed. I suppose he’s already booked passage off of the station, if he hasn’t already gone.” 

“Quick to abandon you,” Julian says, completely off-script. Garak’s carefully measured breathing stutters.

“Surely Captain Sisko would like to have a word with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Doctor…” Garak says, lost. “There isn’t time to was–”

Suddenly there are two hands slamming into his chest like they’re iron forks and he’s a slab of meat, rocketing him back into the nearest wall with a loud thud. Garak gasps at the strength of it, astounded, but all his attention is quickly monopolized by Julian’s snarling words.

“Stop trying to distract me, Garak! Stop racing away before I can even properly get into the room, stop begging off lunch, stop ignoring my comms, and stop acting like your bloody life is over just because it was found out that you have feelings for me!” 

“I–I don’t–”

“Lke hell you don’t! Thirty-seven.”

Garak blinks several times. “What?”

“Thirty-seven. That’s how many direct references to our literary discussions are in your poems. All chronologically concordant with the dates of those discussions, and six of which from that classic Earth album I recommended to you a year ago that you swore up and down sounded like a pack of voles had been crammed into a bucket and shaken around. I knew you were having me on. You love Mitski, and you love me.”

Garak’s face shutters. 

Finally, Julian takes a step back. His hands remain on his chest, pinning him in place, but he allows him some oxygen. Exactly twenty seconds pass like this, before the doctor becomes impatient and huffs, “You can’t possibly have nothing to say.”

“What would you have me say, Doctor?”

“I would like you to admit it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve heard it from friends and coworkers and strangers and every tourist on this damn station, it feels like, but I haven’t heard it from you.”

Garak is silent for a long time. Finally, he quietly asks, “You would further humiliate me this way? Knowing what you do? My dear friend…” He, carefully, with only the gentlest of pressure, puts a hand over one of Julian’s. “Please. You’ve read everything I could possibly have to say. What more could there be?”

Julian’s hands are unforgiving, but his eyes soften at the simple lowering of the curtain. It’s not the direct confession he was looking for, the I love you completely, traitorously, ruinously that his poems professed and a deep, broken part of Julian desperately wants to hear, but it is, it is. For Garak, this is as explicit as it gets, and Julian can feel his heart trying to catch in his throat.

“Garak,” he starts to say.

Garak isn’t scowling anymore. His eyes are shining as he looks away and sucks in an aggrieved breath. “Oh, please, let us skip this excruciating precursor. I have no intention of remaining on this station.”

Julian goes unnervingly still. “Excuse me?”

“I will need time to pack up my shop and settle my lease, but then I promise, you will never suffer the consequences of my unfortunate… condition again.” When Julian only stares at him with mounting alarm in his lovely eyes, Garak grimaces. “You must know I had no intention of pursuing you.” At least, not after the implant had been shut off and he’d realized what horrors he’d stumbled into with the doctor while under its influence, and by then, it was already too late. He was too weak to stop speaking to him, but he was not a complete monster. “I wouldn’t have. My writing was never about nurturing the emotions, only managing them.” A bit of a lie, but only a bit. He does love to languish and he never could resist a good innuendo. Their friendship had been infinitely precious to him, though, and he couldn’t bear the slow death it would undergo now that everyone knew the truth.

The worsening rumors that would spread. The suffering of Julian’s reputation, career, and love life with the Cardassian spy’s drastic affections hanging over everyone’s heads. The danger it would place them both in, the damage it had already done. The way Julian would know every time Garak flirted now, it was never idle. It had never been and could never be. 

It would be a torture hitherto unthinkable. Better to sever the limb before it could rot.

Still, Julian is silent. The pressure on his chest is more a suggestion than a command now.

“Doctor, I…” he swallows back anymore hideous truths. “I apologize. Your rage is understandable, but I swear to you, I have every intention of righting this wrong.”

“Oh,” Julian says then, softly, as if he isn’t speaking to Garak at all,  “you don’t know.”

“Doctor?”

He makes a bizarre human gesture, skimming the heel of his hand off his forehead. “My God! Of course. I thought it was pride, or shame, or paranoia. Anything and everything but this, but of course you would be this ridiculous. Well. That’s an easy enough problem to solve.”

“Doctor–?!”

The hands on his chest are gone. Instead, they’re seizing him by the head and pulling him up to connect his mouth to Julian’s.

Oh.

If Julian’s touch was a brand before, this is lava running down his throat, into his stomach and down, down, down to eat through the twenty inch thick duranium floor. Slow, thorough, and final in its devastation. A transformation that cannot be persuaded. He grapples with it, hands scrambling stupidly over and across his doctor’s shoulders. Whether it’s to pull him closer or push him away, he doesn’t know. He’s too busy being brutally altered to give it much thought.

His hands settle for burying themselves in his hair at some point. When doesn’t matter. Time holds no power here. It happens, and then he knows how soft Julian Bashir’s hair feels, and there is no going back.

The loss of control becomes alarming enough that he finally manages to pry himself away, gulping in desperate, anxious breaths of frigid station air. It works. The fire and the madness that followed it calms down and he manages the strength to push Julian back, but the wet smack of their lips disconnecting will echo in his dreams for the foreseeable future, as will the dizzy grin on Julian’s face inches from his own. There’s a hand on his ass keeping him from tumbling through the hole in the floor and a couple unlucky passersby gawking at the gruesome scene and Garak is a different creature entirely, incandescent and strange, forged anew in the curious fires of mutual attachment. 

He feels insane.

“Doctor, you cannot truly be this naive.” 

Julian looks anything but naive right then. He can’t focus on that, though. He needs to focus on the fact he was nearly assassinated; the fact that the kindest man alive nearly died with him out of some misguided terran idea that all lives are of equal value and importance.

And yet, Julian is leaning in to kiss him again, so Garak puts a hand on his chest and says, “You know what I am.”

Julian’s expression turns complicated and it’s clear he understands. Garak’s roiling emotions can’t settle on being relieved or horrified. How to go on after this? After knowing intimately what he almost had, with the smoke of it still thick in his eyes and his throat and his heart?

A gentle hand on his jaw brings him back to the moment, where Julian’s eyes are serious. “I know,” he murmurs.

Garak sucks in a wet breath.

“The question is,” Julian continues, even quieter, “do you know what I am?”

His head is spinning. “Doctor?”

Julian just smiles sadly, and it's clear that there are some long conversations in their future. But for now… “About that dermal regenerator in your quarters,” Julian begins, and Garak is relieved to find out that whatever stupid, lovely thing he’s become can still appreciate an innuendo.

—

Not long after, in the middle of telling Sisko all about Mebol over Julian’s comm badge while its owner watches expectantly in a state of teasing half-dress, he’s horrified to find that whatever thing he’s become is also rather eager to please.

—

A couple days later, the two of them are picking from a generous cut of flaming taspar in the Replimat.

Or, Garak is picking, anyway. Julian is stuffing his face. Ordinarily, this would mildly scandalize him, but the fact it’s taspar, one of the most traditional delicacies of his homeworld, being shoveled enthusiastically into that pretty face makes it so he can feel only hope.

Rather than giving into that inadvisable feeling, he takes a dainty sip of his tea and tries to look nonsuspect. Cardassians from all sides and angles are staring.

“About Miss Leeta…” Garak begins.

Julian wipes his face with the side of his hand. Disgusting, but oddly compelling. “What about her?” 

“When will you be breaking the news to her?”

“Oh.” Julian smiles, bemused. “She knows.”

A tightness in his chest dispels slightly. “Does she?” he says faintly.

“She’s the one who first brought it up. We performed the Rite of Separation days ago. She said it was great timing, what with the festival and all. We didn’t even have to leave the station.”

“So you were together then.”

“Well, in a sense. We weren’t in love, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Garak takes another sip, lowering his eyes. “I wasn’t worried. Only concerned for the young lady’s feelings.”

Julian’s face is incandescent. A Cardassian to his far left is openly gaping. “Of course, of course.” He leans suddenly over the table then, moving a hand forward to rest on his knee. “So, should I take this line of questioning as an indicator that you’re open to a relationship with me?”

Garak shifts a little in his seat, moving his knee further under the table and its shadows, but otherwise doesn’t pull away. “It would be unwise,” he says quietly, without actually saying no.

The hand squeezes. “It isn’t as if people won’t assume anyway.”

“Rumors can be dispelled. Redirected. Altered.” He reaches forward to take a small saucière and pours a bright red sauce over a couple groatcakes. “There would be no coming back from a confirmation.”

Julian’s hand falls away. “Would it be so bad?”

“I don’t know,” Garak says, splitting a cake up into three neat sections. “Would it, Doctor?”

A Bajoran couple walks past their table then, and while one purposely avoids eye contact and seems to be giving them a wide berth, the other throws a meaningful glare Julian’s way. This is the fourth judgemental or pitying look he’s received since they came in for brunch. Julian calmly returns the look, refusing to be the first to look away, until finally the man averts his eyes and Julian looks back to Garak with a stern smile. Garak inclines his head.

“Be careful, Doctor,” Garak goes on. “Rumors can ruin lives. End careers.” He scoops up a bite of his cake, dripping with red sauce, and lifts it to his mouth. “Kill,” he finishes, and eats.

At that, Julian leans back in his seat with his arms crossed tight. Garak gives him his time. It’s a relief to have finally made a dent in Julian’s lovesick, idealistic conviction–and Garak can admit, after the last few days, that it is lovesickness. Julian’s decided he loves him back and there will be no stopping him from pursuing this, but there may yet be some tempering. A small, equally stubborn, sentimental part of Garak despairs at the whole horrid affair, but the behemoth of his good sense squashes this part down with little difficulty. 

It’s this moment that a smattering of young Cardassians, accompanied by one Jadzia Dax, arrive at their table. Immediately, Garak recognizes them as the ones that nearly intercepted his meeting with Lumok and his stomach drops. Julian, on the other hand, brightens back up.

“Well, hello there,” he says warmly.

Jadzia responds first, with each elbow leaned on a Cardassian’s shoulder and a knowing sparkle in her blue eyes, “Hello to you.” The Cardassians all echo with similar greetings, some shy, others giddy.

One young woman standing at the front, with her hair in three elaborately plaited braids and little makeup, is looking at Garak with particular interest. “You’re the one who wrote the poems about Julian.”

Garak looks at the girl coolly. “Do you mean Dr. Bashir?”

She goes blue. “Oh, um. Yes. I do.” She tucks an imaginary lock of hair into her perfectly coiffed hair and lowers her head respectfully. “My apologies, Doctor.”

“Hey now,” the doctor scolds with good humor, “none of that. We’re all friends here.” 

The girl throws another searching glance Garak’s way. “Friends?”

That’s enough of that. “This is certainly quite the surprise,” Garak says genially, plastering on his most pleasant smile. “Is there something you needed? As Deep Space Nine’s resident Cardassian tailor and reputed troubadour, I’m always happy to be of service.” Julian sends him a sharp look, which he ignores. 

Jadzia is looking as foxy as she ever does, with a grin nearly to her spotted ears. “Julian asked me to bring them here,” she says too happily, and Garak has to sit back in his seat to process that. Julian scratches his neck with a guilty smile, obliviously alluring. It cannot be overstated that there are, still, eyes on them from all directions and angles.

“Garak, sir,” the Cardassian woman-child begins again, earnest, “let me start over. My name is Inia Milam. I am the President of the Ivory State Liberation Library. We collect–”

“Madam,” Garak interrupts her quietly, stunned. “This is hardly the time and place.” He blinks, still shocked stupid by her brazenness, and leans towards her, peering into her distressingly young features with beseeching desperation. “And I am hardly the audience.”

Milam doesn’t appear to process his warning at all, though. She just continues to look inquisitive. She has that gleam in her eyes that is common in Cardassian women, calculating and intelligent, but there’s something else there. Something indefinable that he’s seen hundreds of times over an interrogation table, but without the fear to staunch it. Without the hopelessness. It makes his stomach flip. “On the contrary, you are exactly the sort of person we look for.” She bows her head. “Dr. Bashir promised that if we assisted him a few days prior, he would introduce us so that I could formally welcome your book of poems into our shelves. I apologize if this comes as a surprise. I wish only to thank you for your excellent contribution, E. G., and tell you that we hope to welcome many more pieces from you in the future. I’ll be in touch. Dr. Bashir.” She nods to him, returns his gentle smile, and walks confidently away. The rest of the group mirror her, voicing similar words of polite farewell and appreciation, and leave.

Garak forces himself not to track their departure and instead picks up his fork again, as if nothing world-shattering has occurred at all. The cake is tasteless in his mouth.

Julian is concealing nothing of his thoughts, however. He’s staring openly at Garak, as if he’s a bomb and he’s trying to figure out which color wire to cut.

Ultimately, it’s Jadzia that breaks the tension. “Well,” she says, “that is some harem you’ve got there, Julian.”

“Jadzia,” Julian barks. She laughs.

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing.” Uncharacteristically, her impish smile turns regretful. “Now that that’s out of the way, I do have to bring your friend in for questioning,” she says, and that explains that. “I’m sorry, boys. I stalled Ben as long as I could.”

Garak polishes off the last of his meal and takes one last gulp of his tea to wash it down. With that done, he stands with a placid, conciliatory smile.

Julian puts a hand on his shoulder before he can take a step. “I’ll come see you after my shift.” Those lovely, dark, deep eyes search his, pinning him like a moth above his fireplace. “Okay?”

Garak inhales. “Without end,” he murmurs, waits for Julian’s eyes to light in understanding, and then aloud says, “I am at your disposal, Doctor. Good day.” With that and a firm, friendly pat on Julian’s hand, he limps away.

Jadzia rather pointedly watches him limp to the exit for a few long seconds before throwing Julian a rakish grin. “Well, well,” she says largely. Julian pretends not to notice, and Jadzia pivots on her heel after Garak.

“Before we lock you up and throw away the key, could you sign my datarod,” Julian hears Jadzia asking, and he shakes his head, unsuccessfully trying to rub away his smile.

Without end Do I think of you and so Come to me at night. For on the path of dreams at least, There's no one to disapprove! Ono no Komachi

[cameronspecial]

Really, Rafe?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Couple Arguments and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: What is supposed to be a romantic getaway starts to feel like something else when Y/N realizes the type of activities the resort has.

A/N: Inspired by this post (Totally not because Tom Holland liked the post).

Masterlist

One rule in their relationship is that Y/N and Rafe take turns planning dates. Everything from small picnic dates to large vacation dates. This time, it is his turn to plan a vacation. When it comes to holiday trips, it doesn’t have to be far or grand. It could be a small thing, as long as it is a getaway from their normal life for at least two days. The last one they went on was when they both went to a small beach house in Myrtle Beach. Y/N was lucky enough to have found a private rental away from most of the city’s commotion. It was just the ocean, cocktails and the two of them for a week. It was absolute Heaven. As she watches the scenery pass by, Y/N can’t help her excitement as to where they are going. “Can’t you tell me where we are going?” she pleads. Her eyes are as big as dinner plates. He gently squeezes her thigh and throws her a smile, “That’s a secret for me to know and for you to find out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “That is such a cliche saying.” He shrugs, “So? It still doesn’t mean I am going to tell you.” She gives him a playful pout and continues to look out of the window. 

Ten minutes later, the dense forest turns to equally placed decorative trees and the paved road turns to decorative stones. He parks the car and steps out to open the door for her. She takes in the castle-like resort. The golden trimming and fascia remind the girl of Versailles. She imagines all sorts of things they can do together. Sit by the pool with a drink in hand. Relax thanks to the hands of a masseuse. Dine in fairytale-like restaurants. It takes her breath away, but only for a second because she finally spots the real reason why they are here. To the right of the building are expansive green plains with people of various ages swinging back a club to send the ball flying through the air. Y/N notices Rafe isn’t by her side and turns to find him unloading his golf clubs from the trunk. He packed the trunk, so she didn’t notice it. Disappointment falls over her as it all clicks into place. 

“Really, Rafe?” she disgruntled. Her arms cross over each other and her right hip juts out. He looks at her with a tight-lipped smile, “What? This place has a great high tea evening, which I know you’ve been dying to try. And they have an indoor and outdoor pool that you could take advantage of. Plus, a great spa package for you to try.” This man is really digging his own grave. She lets out a bitter laugh. “You do realize through your whole little spiel, you always said you. Never we, like you expect me to do all those things by myself while you go off and spend all your time with your golf clubs,” she argues. Rafe’s eyes widen, “No, Sugar, you got it all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I planned on doing all those things with you. I promise I just brought my clubs in case you got sick of me and I need to give you some space.” She didn’t believe him. Not when a previous experience told her otherwise. It may have been four years ago when they started dating, yet a girl never forgets. Rafe had planned a date at a football bar. It would’ve been fine if his sole reasoning wasn’t to be surrounded by TVs to watch the game. Halfway through the date, other football fans joined their table to watch the event with him. She felt so ignored and unimportant during that hour. She left the date without so much as a goodbye.

She wouldn’t have seen him again if it wasn’t for how apologetic he was. He expressed remorse through his words and then flowers. She eventually forgave him, agreeing to another date. However, she never forgot the way that she felt in that bar. The humiliation of walking away from a man who paid her no attention. Up until today, she never regretted the decision to give him a second chance. Now, she feels the same way. She worries he didn’t listen to her concern about them not being able to spend a lot of quality time with each other because of how busy they have been with work. It’s the reason why they decided to go on this two-week getaway. To reconnect with each other and they couldn’t do that if he planned to spend all his time on the course. “Sure, that’s totally why you did it. If you didn’t want to spend time with me, Rafe, you could’ve told me. I would’ve given you the space and you wouldn’t have had to drag me with you here,” she criticizes, storming into the hotel to calm down.

———

For the past five minutes, she has been cooling herself down in the resort lobby. Rafe has been at the front desk, probably checking into their room. She doesn’t know if she should stay or just call a cab to take her to the nearest train station. She watches as he points in her direction and the receptionist gives him a nod. The woman removes herself from behind the counter, walking over to Y/N with a smile. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/L/N? Could you please follow me to the front desk?” the receptionist, named Kate according to her name tag, asks. Y/N hesitates to nod, yet still obeys the request. Once at the front desk, Y/N keeps her distance from Rafe. Kate types into her computer and turns it toward the female guest, “Mr. Cameron requested I show you all the bookings he made for stay here.” Rafe’s girlfriend stares at him with narrow eyes and he leans in to whisper in her ear. “I didn’t tell her what happened. I just asked her to show you what I booked.” She gives him a small nod, turning her attention toward the screen.  

The list is long, but it is easy to recognize a pattern. Everything is reserved for a couple and not a single one is a tee-time reservation. She couldn’t argue that he had Kate remove his tee times because literally every single minute between nine in the morning and seven in the evening had something planned. She made a horrible mistake and accused Rafe of not caring about her. She turns to him with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Rafe,” she apologizes, wrapping her arms around him. He lets her snuggle into his neck and wraps his arms around her waist. His lips rest on her forehead, “It’s okay, Sugar, I know I was really an ass on that date so long ago. I mean I can’t say I’m not hurt that you still think I could still be that idiot, but I am grateful every day that you chose to forgive me. Which means that I have it in my heart to forgive you too. I love you.” She presses her lips against his. “Thank you for forgiving me. I love you too.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[tales-from-elysivm]

Jinx x f!reader and their first kiss, date, time, fight, all that couple stuff short little pieces of girlies being cute

★。／ get jinxed ＼。★

pairing: jinx x f!reader

fandom: arcane

word count: 1,612

tw: canon typical swearing/slang, some light spoiler warnings, and some suggestive/NSFW content! MDNI!

notes: this is a fic i am really excited for! Thank you again for the request anon! It was really fun to write, and i got through it pretty quickly to be perfectly honest because of that haha. Not proofread because im tired, and i have no shame :D enjoy!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

➼ first date with jinx 

You worked under Silco delivering shimmer across Zaun. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t have been doing this, it could get you arrested without question and you’d find yourself in Stillwater. But it paid well, and working so closely with the Eye of Zaun meant you didn’t have to worry as much about danger in Zaun. People saw you as a god-send, you gave them their weekly hit, if anything, the danger made them respect you. 

It was during this time that you met Jinx, while picking up your next delivery of shimmer from Silco’s warehouse. She had been there to speak with him privately about some arson issue that happened in Piltover. You had heard briefly about a lanky, blue-haired girl that would build bombs in the open space beneath the warehouse, but it was rare that anyone had ever seen her. But you managed. Somehow.

She intercepts you on your trade route, setting bombs off in the street just across from one of your clients. Jinx claims to recognise you from skulking around the warehouse. And at some point her chaotic energy and her strange inability to sit still seems to lull you into some sense of security. She’s just the perfect idea of unpredictability that you needed in your otherwise boring Zaunite lifestyle. (Though you were very lucky, all things considered.)

Your first date is a simple diner one. At first, you didn’t even know it was a date, just that she wanted to do something fun with you. She takes you in to meet her favourite bartender Chuck, who seems to almost slink beneath the counter when she drags you in. I feel like Jinx would give you a little monkey bomb as a gift for your first date - though it isn’t set, it’s pretty harmless. Other than that she bombards you with strange bursts of Jinx-aligned humour, and rambles at length about her various inventions, promising to take you down to her workshop to show you everything, while tightly gripping your fingers with chipped blue nails. 

And something in those bright, blue eyes makes you think that maybe this unpredictability could be quite fun. 

‘Don’t ya get bored frownin’ like that?’ jinx drums her nails on her glass, the clinking echoing throughout the empty bar. It was quite odd, you reckon, for it to be this quiet, but maybe its just jinx. 

In her own way of trying to get a smile out of you she starts spouting some random jokes. Tries telling her own funny stories. They all mostly revolve around bombs or explosive presentations she’s organised at piltover events. Mainly the absurdity of it all gets a laugh out of you, or you just smile at the giddy, child-like happiness you see in her eyes. Something that seems so pure (ignoring the fact that she’s probably an arsonist and on several watchlists)

‘There ya go!’ she cheers, grabbing onto your hands and interlacing your fingers. You think maybe you should paint your nails too to match her, see if it makes her happy. ‘You look so much prettier with a smile, trinket’

➼ first kiss with jinx 

It was after your third or fourth date that you ended up spending your free time in the warehouse. Jinx begins showing you all the new inventions she’s making, and all her designs for cartoony monkey bombs, you even help her draw out a few, including a cutesy little cat one that she isn’t as fond of, but she still makes one for you. 

Most of your relationship consists of Jinx making you little trinkets, like keychains, safe bombs, little bracelets and rings, and strange, misshapen sculptures made of leftover metal pieces. 

She loves you, in a very Jinx-way. She’s touchy but never very pushy. Long hugs, cuddles on a couch that she has balancing on a metal propellor in her warehouse, letting you braid her hair when she’s tired (please brush her hair, she will melt, and she needs some softness), holding hands in Zaun or dragging you to her private meetings with Silco. Whether you like it or not, you have the Eye of Zaun as an adopted father figure now. He isn’t quite sure what to think about it either. 

It is one of those cuddle sessions, after she is plagued by the voices that taunt her, that you end up just holding her face into your neck and sitting with her. These are the most important to her, like she can feel safe for once. 

‘Thank ya toots,’ she curls around you, straddling your lap and looking down on you with an innocent pout on her face. You don’t have to ask what she’s thanking you for, this has become a pretty regular occurrence. 

In her moment of calmed silence, you untie one of her braids and begin to brush through her long, blue locks with your fingers. She immediately melts into your hands, leaning forward to lean into your chest, gazing up at you. 

‘I feel like ya deserve somethin,’ she says absently, tapping her chin with one nail. Then a mischievous smile crosses her lips. ‘C’mere!’

She eagerly grabs your cheeks, barely giving you a second to register what’s happening before she smushes your faces together. Her lips are chapped, but her kiss is so enthusiastic that you have to take a moment before returning it. Your hand grips her hair in between tight fingers. 

The rest of your cuddle sesh is spent with soft, hurried kisses.

➼ first fight with jinx 

You don’t often fight with Jinx, you don’t like to yell at her or be upset, and watch her usually gleeful expression drop into that of a kicked puppy. But you were worried about her this time. 

She had gone up to piltover against Silco’s wishes again, most likely to stir up trouble, so he decided to send you after her to drag her back to Zaun. When you had gotten there however, you found only the debris of her explosions, the spraypaint she loved, clouds of coloured smoke, and guards everywhere. 

And no Jinx.

No sign of her or where she could be, you had no choice but to return to Zaun before you got dragged into the oncoming investigation, empty-handed. You spend the rest of the day worrying over where she might be in her workshop, sitting with your head in your hands on the couch. Is she hurt? Captured? She could be dead for all you know.

So when she shows up again, seemingly ignorant to how long she has been gone or the stress she has caused, you can’t help but raise your voice, crying about how you had expected the worst. You scream back and forth for a bit before she leaves you to burn off her energy.

‘Hey trinket,’ the door to her warehouse screeches open, and she stands in the entrance, looking at you as you sit on the couch, barely even looking at her. ‘Ya still mad at me?’

She sighs when she doesn’t get a response, coming close to wipe at the dried tear-stains on your cheeks, setting down her tools and her guns to favour your face between her hands. Jinx makes sure you can see only her.

‘I’m sorry i vanished, i didnt mean to scare ya, honest.’ she pulls you down to lean into her shoulder, still stroking your cheeks with her fingers. ‘Can ya forgive me, trinket? I’ll make it up to ya, i promise.’

Jinx cuddles with you on the couch for the rest of the day, showering you in kisses at your request. Safe to say, you can’t stay mad at her for very long at all.

|| ! mdni content below ! ||

➼ first time with jinx 

Jinx has always loved touching you, whether it’s a hand on your knee, an arm around your shoulder, or a hug from behind. She just loves to be close to you. But when you begin talking about the idea of sex with her she immediately jumps on the idea (and probably jumps on you as soon as you bring it up, you only barely manage to drag her somewhere private)

She’s an enthusiastic lover in all things, of course. Fucking you isn’t going to be any different. But she’s gentle the first time, despite it all, she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, i don’t think Silco really prepared her for intimate relationships. 

But still, having sex with Jinx is amusing, its not serious, always cracking little jokes or tickling each other and finding little ways to be comfortable with the process. You can’t really find it in you to be nervous. 

She’d start slowly with you though, if you wanted, just to make you comfortable <3 

‘God trinket, ya look s’ pretty like this for me,’ she’s already slightly breathless, skirting her hands and dragging her chipped nails over your ribs. She lays you down on the couch in her warehouse, sitting between your thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Ya feel alright?’ she checks in occasionally, just to be sure. 

But she lets her hands wander at the same time, she can tell you aren’t going to say no just by the look in your eyes, urging her to continue. She lets her hands travel over your stomach and down in between your thighs, but she doesn’t hurry where you need her. No, she prefers to tease you. Just a little bit to get you squirming. 

When she does finally reach your core, dipping her fingers in between your folds, does she finally let up and give you what you want.

[sturniolocafe]

screw top rosé

summary: a cozy wine night with your boyfriend, matt<3 pairing: matt x feminine reader content: alcohol, kissing, fluff! a note from lilah 𐙚: welcome to my first piece of work on this blog! i hope you all love it :) (lowercase intended!)

you smiled to yourself as you lit an autumnal candle, breathing in the sweet scent. the rain pattered against the window panes of your and matt's shared apartment, giving the space the perfect ambience for the evening. given matt's job as an influencer, especially in la, it was rare for the two of you to have a relaxed evening at home, especially on a saturday. somehow though, the whiteboard calendar that you kept in the kitchen was evening on this november evening.

you rushed to the front door as you heard matt's keys jingling in the lock, your fuzzy-sock-covered feet sliding across the hardwood floor. you threw open the door before your boyfriend could even unlock it, smiling eagerly at the plastic takeout bag in his hand.

"what happened to "hi", "how are you?"?" matt chuckled, snaking an arm around your waist and kissing the top of your head.

"no one gets between me and my food," you joked, but nevertheless returned matt's kiss with a peck on his cheek. "let's eat."

within minutes, you had your and matt's share of chinese takeout spread out across the bar where you two ate. before sitting down, you pulled a bottle of rosé from the fridge, effortlessly removing the screw top and pouring a glass for both of you. matt smiled, thanking you and taking a sip of the wine. fuck if it was a "girly" drink, he liked rosé.

the conversation died down as you and your boyfriend began to eat, your mouths occupied with the taste of good food. as you finished off your plate, you looked up at matt, noting his empty wine glass and the pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

"wine getting you already?" you chuckled, standing to clear the plates.

"i'm not a lightweight." matt grumbled, despite the darkening of his cheeks betraying him.

you chuckled, rinsing the dishes and putting them in the sink. they could be washed tomorrow. right now, spending time with matt, free of loud parties or events, was more important than housework.

"i'm gonna go put on my pajamas and then we can watch a movie!" you explained gleefully.

matt nodded, giving your ass a soft pat as you left the room. his insides felt warm already, thanks in part to the alcohol, but also to just how much love he felt for you. by the time you returned, clad in silky, pink pajamas, matt had set up the living room for the rest of your night. the bottle of rosé and your two glasses were set on the coffee table, couch decorated with fuzzy blankets, and the tv waiting on netflix.

you cuddled up next to matt under one of the blankets, pouring you both another glass of wine. unlike your boyfriend, you tolerated alcohol quite well, but it always made you smile seeing how sleepy and cuddly matt got. it wasn't long before matt grabbed the remote, flicking the tv to your favorite movie and wrapping his arm around you.

the living room was silent for a while as you became engrossed in your movie, comforted by the pink liquid in your cup and the feeling of matt's body against your own.

"baby?" matt hummed, poking your side.

"mhm?' you asked, pausing the movie and turning to face your lover.

"i love you," he giggled, cheeks pink and eyes shiny. "you're the prettiest girl ever."

"and i love you more." you smiled, kissing matt's plump, warm lips softly.

"i can't believe you like me enough to kiss me." he grinned, blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

"i'm your girlfriend, silly." you chuckled, noting matt's empty wine glass.

"so if you're my girlfriend, does that mean i can do this?" he yawned, plopping his head in your lap.

"sure does." you kissed his head, running your fingers through his messy, brown hair.

matt smiled and yawned, clearly sleepy from the alcohol. "that feels nice," he mumbled. "like it."

as time passed, the more the alcohol hit matt's system, the more cuddly he became. it wasn't long before he was practically laying on your lap, eyes blissfully closed. "i dunno why i'm so sleepy." he mumbled.

"two glasses is a lot for you, bubba." you giggled gently.

"bedtime?"

"sure, matt. bedtime." you smiled, placing a kiss to his head.

author's note: thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed :) see my pinned post to be on my taglist!

[astonmartingf]

HAVEN'T MET YOU YET ; JB22

jenson button x fem!reader

. . . slowing down as the high life of the party, jenson turns a new leaf and thinks optimistically about his plans in the future concerning his love life.

amgf finally moving the last couple works 😭 i definitely procrastinated moving these because they're so long and quite frankly i chose to study than move these but now i have time, i can't escape i need to do this for the alo fic to be posted

death of a bachelor ; masterlist

Frozen in front of his hotel room, muttering a string of curses to himself Jenson stood still tracing back the events that led him to this.

Making his way to the front door, Jenson was faced with an eager German and an Australian fellow trailing behind him. With raised brows, Jenson opened the doors wider letting both men inside.

“Are you coming with us tonight?” Sebastian, wasting no time, asked diving into his kept bed making Mark grimace.

“I’m actually choosing to stay in, rest early for tomorrow.” Jenson nods, convincing himself of his plans to stay in. This doesn’t go unnoticed as Sebastian shared a look with Mark before turning his head towards Jenson.

Uncharacteristically for the Briton, Webber expressed his confusion first with raised eyebrows, “You’re staying in? Why?”

Shrugging, Jenson pushes Seb to make space for himself. “I just don’t want to go outside, also there’s practice tomorrow. I don't want to go out for drinks.”

“Okay. we’re not necessarily going out for drinks. Just dinner, walking around the town, maybe a few light drinks here and there.” Sebastian sits up in an attempt to convince Jenson to come out with them. Noticing his reluctance the German looks up to Mark for support.

“Is this about the headlines about you?” Sebastian let out a small groan, brows furrowed directed towards Mark as he mouths “What about discreet do you not understand?”

Mark scoffs in reply, keeping his hands in his pockets, tired of the German’s antics. The exchange however left Jenson smiling to himself, which was a win for the two.

“Are you here to distract and cheer me up?”

Pressing his lip into a thin line in admittance, Sebastian looks over toward Jenson who’s been silent for quite some time.

Breaking the silence, Mark removes his hands from his pocket walking near to Jenson ina soft voice speaking, “If you don’t want to, you don’t-”

“I’ll go”

“Really?” Perking up, Sebastian hurried jumps off the bed pulling Jenson towards the front door.

“Okay we’re going now.” Hooking his arms to both men, Mark drags both of them outside.

Shit.

Exactly. Letting Sebastian and Mark drag him downtown for dinner was the plan, yet somehow the trio managed to lose each other as the night came, assuming the pair had gone over for drinks at some local bar. Jenson didn’t want to be associated with that, not at the moment that is.

Because as much as Jenson tried to hide it, their words were eating at him every time. And just like the rumors say, somewhere in between he believed them, and in turn began to question his own character.

Fuck.

Rubbing his eyes awake, Jenson looked around the hallway looking for anyone familiar who could help him. With no phone, no key card, and in a different country there’s no one he could truly contact to ask for help. Opting to sleep out on the hallways for the night, Jenson was on the verge of giving up.

“Excuse me, sir? Are you okay?”

English.

Jenson looks up, unsure if it was the jetlag, the light drinks, or the lack of sleep in his system but Jenson knew what was in front of him was an angel, his savior, he knew then and there he would give her everything- despite him not having anything at the moment.

“I’m not.” Stopping himself, Jenson chose his words carefully. Shocked at his own honesty, this was the first time he felt vulnerable. He can’t help but open up to such a beautiful stranger, even when he goes over his thoughts, everything is hazy.

“I’m locked out of my room with no phone, no wallet to even get a new one because my friends convinced me to go out. Not that I blame them, I was moping and being sad, and they had good intentions, I said I wouldn’t go out for drinks, and somewhere in between I lost them. I don’t know how I ended up back in the hotel, but I just want to sleep.” Jenson yawned in between his rant, leaning towards the wall, eyes drifting to sleep.

“Do you maybe want to sleep in my room?” Jenson turned his head, now you truly were his savior. But despite his excitement, Jenson couldn’t help but frown to himself.

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you. I’m sorry you had to sit with me on the floor, listening to me rant about my day.”

Chuckling you stood up in front of him, that’s when Jenson thought- he’d never have a chance with you. You were choosing to walk away, which is understandable since he was nothing but a mere stranger. To you, he could be lying just to find a way in your room, something he had done before.

Now he is crushed that karma has gotten back to him by letting him meet the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, when he’s on the lowest of lows and never to be seen again.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed. Fortunately for you I happened to pass by you and your friends earlier, it’s Mark right?”

Grabbing your hand, Jenson laughs before introducing himself, “That’s my friend, I’m Jenson.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Jenson. I’m Y/N, I stay in the room at the end of the hallway. Let’s get you to sleep, I wouldn’t want you to end your night on such a sad note. Especially after your friends tried to cheer you up.”

“Thank you Y/N, you’re actually my savior.”

jensonbutton

liked by yourusername, aussiegrit, and 1,640,462 others

jensonbutton four months ago you met me and i was at my worst yet welcomed me with open arms.

staying with me when i was locked out of my hotel room, i thought of you as my savior and i remember saying that before falling asleep.

listening to my worries as a stranger, i didn't think we'd grow as friends and eventually lovers. since the day we met my day hasn't ended on such a sad note.

yourusername i love you and i'm glad to be a part of your life. i'm thankful that i'm with you now, and always.

view 857,248 comments...

aussiegrit i'm happy for you two 🤍

sebastianvettel aren't you glad we invited you out, or else you wouldn't have met each other

jensonbutton okay thank you seb and mark

aussiegrit you're acting like we were there, we literally left him alone in the middle of the night, i'm sorry jense

jensonbutton you dragged me out and left me, if it wasn't for y/n i would be sleeping in the hallway

sebastianvettel thank you yourusername you're cute together and i'm taking the credit ☺️

user1 wait jensey/n lore????

user2 i thought of you as my savior 😭😭😭 hello?

user3 it's always i love you and never "SINCE THE DAY WE MET MY DAY HASN'T ENDED ON SUCH A SAD NOTE" 🥹😤😭🥹😤😭😤🥹😭😤

user4 how are we feeling everyone?

user5 happy crying 😭😭😭

user6 MY PARENTS >>>>> i called it

user7 have y'all seen yn's post 🥹

user8 i love them your honor 🥲

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton and 98,734 others

yourusername four months, since the day i met you. in such a short time i've seen your highs and lows and even then i knew that i wanted to be with you.

you changed my life and i'm constantly proud of you, i won't stop reminding you on how deserving you are of every good thing in life.

you fill me with pride, joy, and i'm so lucky to be with you. since then i knew that i wouldn't let your night end on such a sad note.

jensonbutton i love you so much.

comments are limited by the user.

jensonbutton thank you for giving me a chance to show my love to you.