#So I will just keep day dreaming about it

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 1/?]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [will be added over the course of the series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: hi friends !! wow, been a hot min since i wrote something of this caliber. feels good to be back in biz ;D did you all miss persephone! suguru? because there's a LOT of him here >_< i really wanted to publish this as a oneshot but....tumblr hates me so now it's gonna be a chaptered series! oh , joy! ps @nappingmoon i got u bae, this one is for you.

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

you never really set out to be the face of smut-lit. 

in fact, you weren’t even really a face at all — just a “faceless” author penning scandalous stories for fans who devoured them, and haters who, well… tried to eat you alive.

you’d started out innocently enough, scribbling down your little fantasies and tropes that no self-respecting romance book would touch. then one day, a friend dared you to post one on booktok. 

you thought, "fuck it" and uploaded a snippet of your latest brainchild: a steamy billionaire x star-crossed chef fic called hunger games: not that kind of hungerer. it was, admittedly, extra spicy. 

and oh, did the internet have thoughts.

soon, your comments section and dm’s became a battleground for all opinions on “what qualifies as literature.” gems included:

who even writes this crap? did a middle schooler steal her mom’s laptop? i can feel my brain cells self-destructing as i read this 💀 girl hasn’t even been within a mile radius of a dick and it SHOWS

you'd had to admit… the last comment was right. but hey, they only added to the fuel. 

like moths to a flame, they kept coming back, and the trolling just made your followers skyrocket. a lot of people secretly liked the outrageousness, the drama, and the absolute audacity of it all. before long, your books were trending, and you were raking in numbers (and dollars) most “serious” authors could only dream of.

soon, you found yourself the subject of headlines you never thought you’d see:

the faceless queen of spice: how one unknown author is reshaping romance. trolled online, loved in secret—author sells millions in ebook downloads. social media says she has no idea what she’s talking about, but her bank account says otherwise.

and the kicker?

you’d never had sex with anyone, let alone…well, rocked worlds like your characters. 

here you were, a smut writer with zero real-life experience, who’d single-handedly created booktok’s, bookstagram and hell, even the people down at twitter's guilty pleasure.

but the day big publishers started knocking on your door, it was surreal, to say the least. 

you’d been fully prepared for the anonymous online fame — hell, you’d leaned into it, posting “faceless author life” videos and doing question and answer sessions where you dropped zero identifying details, save for some vague hand gestures and blurred-out backgrounds. but now, major publishing houses wanted in on the action.

“we think your stories have broad market appeal,” one exec had said on a zoom call, trying to make “billionaire mafia love quadrangle” sound dignified. “if we could get them on shelves, we’d reach an audience beyond booktok. international appeal is the goal here!”

suddenly, your filthy, albeit occasionally cringey, tales were going global. they got translated into french (where your enemies-to-lovers series got a fancy new title: l’amour et la haine). your spicy chef saga was reborn in italian as sapore di te, which roughly translated to taste of you (and made you blush, honestly). 

and when your personal favorite, the billionaire’s forbidden touch, hit the japanese market, they titled it 禁断の夜 (which… you didn’t even want to know the translation of, because you knew it was even worse than the original).

you had to admit, though, seeing these books spread worldwide made your head spin. what started as a joke online was now somehow sitting next to classics in international bookstores, becoming a hot commodity for fans everywhere.

but the cherry on top? 

oh, that came when you opened an email from none other than gojo-sonic, the world-renowned audio company best known for its highly specialized audiobook recordings. they’d taken smut literature to the next level, hiring voice actors who sounded like they were in the room with you, all breathy whispers and seductive baritones. people had raved that these audiobooks were “too real” — like they’d been recorded in a closed room with dim lights and a whole lot of… commitment.

they offered you a multi-million dollar deal to turn your books into experiences.

one of your friends, absolutely losing it, texted you as soon as they heard the news:

homegirl [5:21 pm]: “OMG OMG so you’re gonna do it right?? u realize this means ppl will be hearing ur lil virgin brain’s fantasies out loud in their headphones right” you [5:21 pm]: “no kidding. i’m freaking out. this feels illegal.” homegirl [5:22 pm]: “but u gotta!! pls this is ICONIC.” you [5:24 pm]: “they’re giving me millions. you think i’m saying no? lmao.”

it still felt surreal that soon, the whole world would hear your books come to life with professional voice actors — ones who knew exactly how to tease and breathe and make listeners feel like they were right there.

“bring my fantasies to life, huh?” you muttered to yourself, flipping through the contract that would secure your financial future, all because of your fictional men and their, uh, moves. 

who the hell were you to say no to that?

it was surreal enough to get an email from gojo-sonic, but now, sitting across from the ceo himself, gojo satoru, you were starting to wonder if this whole experience was some fever dream.

the man was stunning in an obnoxious, immaculate way. snowy hair, piercing blue eyes, and sunglasses balanced on his head like a headband. and, okay, you had to admit: it was a little weird that he’d named his company after himself — though, frankly, it just fit.

you tried not to laugh when he introduced himself. gojo satoru, ceo of gojo-sonic. the narcissism was off the charts, but so was his charm. as a quick google search before the meeting had revealed, gojo sonic had an impeccable reputation, and there was apparently not a single scandal tied to its name.

“nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand and trying to keep your cool. “kinda surprised a guy is running a… company like this. no offense.”

“none taken!” he replied, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. “if i’m honest, i’m probably the last guy anyone would expect here. but,” he shrugged, “it works. my employees say i’m a ‘girl’s girl,’ whatever that means.”

the way he said it so nonchalantly made you smirk. apparently, the term wasn’t a throwaway nickname, either; the gojo-sonic gossip mill painted him as the absolute dream boss. rumor had it he’d given his whole office a free day off because his assistant had been dumped, and when a writer complained about unisex bathrooms making her uncomfortable, he’d personally had a “feminine touch” added to every single stall, complete with pink hand soap and luxurious lotions. he was kind, considerate, a man who just got it.

“people say i’m probably gay,” he added, laughing as if that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “and you know what? let ‘em think what they want.” he gave you a wink. “as long as they keep buying the goods, i couldn’t care less.”

honestly? the guy made a point. did it matter who he was taking home at the end of the day? not at all, as long as your bank account kept racking up zeros.

“speaking of,” he continued, “we’ve got the full studio ready for tomorrow. you’ll meet the voice actors, go over a few sections, and give input as needed. think of it like a live theater production, except it’s your book.”

“oh, i get to… watch them record?” you asked, wondering how mortifying it might be to sit there, watching actors give their all to lines like, “you’re mine tonight, darling.” 

yeah, you’d written it, but watching someone breathe life into it was a different level of… embarrassment.

“even better,” gojo grinned, looking far too amused by your nervousness, “you’ll get to guide them. they’ll take direction from you — however you want the line delivered, that’s how they’ll say it.”

“you mean i can… like… make suggestions? on delivery?”

“exactly!” he said with a small clap. “we want it to be perfect. i’ve already arranged for our top voice actor, toji fushiguro, to voice your main character.”

toji fushiguro?

if gojo-sonic was the industry’s top company, toji was the crown jewel of voice acting. the guy was a legend. 

he had that smoky, velvet tone that could turn a mundane grocery list into a full-on romance scene. he was also notoriously elusive; some people waited months to get him to even consider their projects. and you — the virgin author who’d stumbled into fame thanks to trolls and booktok — had him voicing your main character?

“wait, toji fushiguro is doing this?” you asked, jaw practically on the floor.

gojo chuckled, looking far too pleased with your reaction. “yep! i think you two are going to work great together. he’s intense but flexible; really good at taking feedback.”

you tried to imagine giving feedback to toji fushiguro of all people. 

“um, maybe say ‘you’re mine’ with more… conviction?” 

“can you sound a bit more possessive on that line?”

“i, uh…” you managed, trying to swallow your nerves. “okay. yeah. sounds… good.”

“great! i think you’ll be amazed. toji’s professionalism is unmatched, and he’ll bring exactly the level of…” Gojo paused, grinning, “intensity you need to really make your character come to life.”

“good luck tomorrow! i’ll make sure everything’s set up perfectly,” gojo had assured you with a big grin as you left the office. “don’t stress about a thing. our identities are always kept top secret here. toji’s included! he’s never done a face reveal, and your privacy is just as ironclad.”

oh god. tomorrow, you were really going to sit there while toji fushiguro acted out lines you’d written on a whim in your pajamas.

sure, not stressing sounded like a logical plan. but after that surreal conversation — and the realization that tomorrow morning, you’d be face-to-face with the one and only toji fushiguro, hearing him breathe life into your raunchiest fantasies — you did what any responsible, mature adult would do.

you headed straight to the nearest bar and got sloshed.

by the time you were three cocktails deep, the reality of tomorrow’s “firsts” hit you like a ton of bricks. first real direction on an audiobook, first time meeting a voice actor, first time dealing with your own steaminess out loud, and — oh god — the cherry on top, it was toji fushiguro himself.

sure, you thought, sipping from your fourth drink and trying not to scream as lana del rey sings “it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you,” i might be slightly freaking out.

another cocktail slid your way. you squinted, unsure if you'd ordered it or if the bartender was just reading your general mood, because yeah, you did look like someone who needed another round.

“tough night?”

“tough tomorrow.” you swirled your drink, laughing to yourself. “i mean… you ever written a, uh, totally inappropriate novel and had to watch a famous guy turn it into audio?”

“…can’t say that i have.”

you shrugged, downing a bit more of the drink, when the song on the speakers switched to avril lavigne’s complicated. fitting, given that your life had just become exactly that.

“why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?” avril sang, like she knew.

the bartender, apparently used to the types who showed up for existential crises alone, leaned against the counter. “sounds like big stuff tomorrow, then. what kind of work do you do, anyway?”

“oh, just… smutty novels,” you said, letting it slip before you could stop yourself. “just… page after page of absolutely shameless, absurd filth. and now i’m, y’know, supposed to direct the guy. to make it sound like he’s really, um, in the moment.”

the bartender chuckled, raising a brow. “sounds intense.”

“you have no idea.” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “he’s this insanely talented voice actor. i mean, they’ve got toji fushiguro in there, which is like… god. if he knew who i actually was, he’d probably laugh.”

why’d you have to go and make things so complicated? avril continued wailing, her words your accidental anthem.

“well, whatever happens,” the bartender said, passing you a glass of water with a grin, “sounds like you’re about to have a pretty interesting morning.”

“i’ll drink to that,” you muttered, clinking your cocktail glass against the water. you downed it, hoping that somehow, it might chase the nerves away.

and as everytime we touch, i get this feeling started blasting on the speakers, you couldn’t help but shake your head with a groan. if there was a playlist made for romantic embarrassment, it was definitely playing tonight.

in your half-sloshed state, it seemed like a good idea to turn to the stranger who’d just sauntered up to the bar — a ridiculously hot stranger, tall with dark hair, and a scar slashing right across his lip. it was the kind of look that would’ve inspired an entire chapter in one of your books, but as of right now? it was just inspiring some truly regrettable choices.

“goodness gracious, great balls of fire,” you muttered to yourself, just loud enough to catch his attention, which felt smooth, in your totally buzzed opinion. so, of course, you swung around on your stool, plastering on what you hoped was an alluring smile.

oh god, here we go. “hey there, handsome…” you paused, hiccuping “… you come here often?”

the stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, leaning an elbow against the bar with a smirk that could kill. “depends,” he said, voice low and rough. “you, uh, always this friendly after a few drinks?”

oh god. 

oh god. 

but you couldn’t stop now. 

you were committed. 

you were bold. 

with all the poise of a drunk giraffe, you propped your elbow on the bar and leaned in closer, pointing a finger at his chest — totally unintentionally, because your depth perception was off by, oh, about a mile. “well, what can i say,” you replied, attempting a sultry grin. “good-lookin’ guys like you… don’t come around often enough, mister.”

“it’s like i’m drunk off your love,” played from the speakers, not helping your case at all. 

oh god, this was actually happening. 

he actually laughed, a warm, deep chuckle, as he watched you struggle through whatever pickup line was about to escape your lips.

he tilted his head, that smirk turning up a notch. “should i be flattered?”

“you should!” you exclaimed, with a bit too much enthusiasm. “you’re like… i dunno, like one of my… you look like a… a fictional character.” 

smooth, real smooth.

“oh yeah?” his smirk widened. “so, what am i, a prince?”

“more like…” you bit your lip, trying to focus, “an antihero with a… tragic past and just enough softness in his heart to make him dangerous in all the right ways.”

he looked you up and down, bemusement clear in his eyes. “dangerous in the right ways? is that your type?”

you gave a shaky wink, nearly missing because the world was swimming a bit. “maybe.”

he chuckled, his voice all rich and velvety, and leaned in closer. “so… you’re here alone? i mean, besides all the fictional men you’re envisioning.”

“for now,” you replied, trying to sound mysterious, but it just came out as a bit… wobbly.

the bartender set the stranger’s drink down with a raised eyebrow, and he took a sip, watching you with amused interest. “you know, maybe you should slow down before you scare all the good guys away.”

“oh, trust me,” you replied, hiccuping again. “i don’t scare easy.”

he shook his head, clearly entertained, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze. you were about to continue — just as soon as the world stopped spinning — when you felt the slightest bit queasy, your stomach reminding you that you’d had one cocktail too many.

the stranger’s amused smirk softened. “you alright there?”

“i’m…” you swallowed. “perfectly fine. just, you know… making sure you’re… getting the full effect of my…” you barely managed the word “…rizz.”

he laughed outright this time, low and warm, like he genuinely couldn’t believe you were real. “is that so? lucky me.”

it was all going so well — okay, not well, but you were holding your own, kind of. you had him laughing, after all, which for someone with approximately zero charisma was an accomplishment! but then the first chords of firework by katy perry blared through the speakers, and as if on cue, your stomach decided to join in the grand finale.

“do you ever feel like a plastic bag,” katy crooned, but for you, it was more like a “do you ever feel like you’re about to ruin your night by barfing on a hot stranger?”

before you could process what was happening, the tequila-fueled fireworks decided to erupt all over this guy’s very expensive-looking shoes.

oh god. oh god.

you looked up, mortified, to find him staring down at his shoes, eyebrows raised. wow, would you look at the time? 

run.

“oh… oh no. i… i’m so sorry, i swear this never happens.”

he raised a brow, still looking somewhere between amused and horrified. “well, that’s… comforting?”

you grabbed a napkin, fumbling, still buzzing enough to not know if you should laugh, cry, or just make a run for it.

“guess that’s, uh, one way to make an impression,” he murmured, lips twitching in a smirk even as he assessed the disaster on his shoes.

“oh god. really, i’m… i’m so sorry.” you dabbed helplessly at his shoes with a cocktail napkin, somehow making things worse. “if it helps, i… i normally only vomit on hot guys.”

he chuckled, though you were sure it was mostly at you, and shook his head. “well, it’s one hell of an icebreaker.”

“baby, you’re a firework,” katy sang passionately in the background, but you were already ready to crawl under the bar and disappear forever.

you were surprised — actually, you were shocked — that the stranger hadn’t ditched you after the whole public-vomiting-on-his-shoes fiasco. instead, somehow, he was still right there, leaned in close and casually sipping his drink, just as much a mess as you were. hours had passed, and you’d been rambling about anything and everything, lost in an alcohol-fueled bubble that had turned the night into something you’d never have dreamed of.

maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the guy’s ridiculously calm attitude, but you’d opened up about your career, the absurdity of writing spicy novels as a faceless author, and even your terror about tomorrow. he’d listened with a smirk, offering the occasional snarky remark or grunt of approval. in return, he’d told you a bit about himself too — well, at least, you thought he did. at some point, the details got hazy.

“so, what do you do?” you asked, squinting at him like it was going to make his face stop swimming in your vision.

he shrugged, swirling his drink and giving a lopsided grin. “something kinda like… acting. you know, nothing glamorous.” there was a hint of amusement there, like he was in on a joke you weren’t.

you squinted harder, your mind pulling up images of random professions. “oh, so like… theater? or like, movies? or wait — commercials? are you one of those guys that has to pretend he’s in love with a bowl of soup?”

he let out a deep laugh, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “sure, something like that. though i’d like to think i’m a bit more convincing than a soup guy.”

you grinned, leaning in closer, your curiosity fully piqued despite your state. “convincing, huh? so you’re a good actor, then?”

“i do my best,” he said, voice low, that amused glint in his eye again.

“you have to be really good to make people believe in, like, totally unrealistic things, y’know?” you babbled, waving your hand. “like, imagine trying to voice —” you cut yourself off, feeling a hint of embarrassment as you remembered why you’d gotten so sloshed in the first place. the irony of tomorrow, and how this entire conversation felt like it was straight out of one of your own stories.

but before you could get too in your head about it, he tilted his head, looking genuinely interested. “voice what? i’m curious, princess.”

princess. the nickname sent a bolt of something dangerously warm straight through you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “oh, nothing…” you said, waving him off. “just, you know… the usual. people who… um, make people fall in love with their voice.”

“and what if i told you,” he leaned in even closer, smirking as if he’d just had the best idea ever, “that i could probably do that?”

you rolled your eyes, not believing him one bit. “oh really? think you could pull it off?”

“depends,” he said with a shrug. “what kinda character am i playing?”

you didn’t realize it, but you’d inched even closer, like you were hanging on his every word. “someone… someone rough around the edges,” you started, your voice dropping, completely lost in the moment, “but with a softness underneath. someone who could make the world stop with just a whisper…”

he smirked, eyes never leaving yours, and for a second, you felt like he was taking every word way too seriously. “i think i could manage that.”

you blinked, feeling a blush rise. 

this stranger had charisma — like, the kind of charisma you’d thought only existed in your characters. 

oh god, maybe you should write him into your next story. you shook yourself, blinking the daydreams away just as he started talking again.

“... and that’s why,” he was saying, “there’s a bit of an art to saying things just right. people think it’s all about the words, but it’s the way you say them that makes it real, y’know?”

you nodded, trying to focus on his words as the room spun just a bit. “so you’re telling me, it’s all in the delivery?”

“exactly.” his gaze dropped to your lips, and he smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “even the… dirtiest lines sound good if you say ’em the right way.”

oh no. that dangerous warmth was back.

somewhere between his intense gaze and that slow, lopsided smirk, dancing queen by abba blared through the bar speakers, jarring you out of your tipsy trance. the upbeat, disco-infused rhythm filled the room, all but laughing at the “moment” you thought you were having with this too-hot-for-reality stranger.

was this a moment? or were you just ridiculously drunk? did he even have a name? or were you just too far gone to have bothered asking?

“you can dance, you can jive,” abba sang, practically mocking you as you stared, wide-eyed, at the man across from you, his scarred lip twisted in a little grin as he watched you piece it all together. he must’ve seen the dawning realization on your face, because he chuckled, reaching for his drink again.

“something wrong, princess?” he asked, leaning forward with a glint of amusement.

oh, great. i’ve already been promoted to ‘princess’ by a guy i might not know the name of. you were seconds away from facepalming.

“uh, nothing,” you said, waving a hand as casually as you could manage. “just, uh, thinking how ironic it is that dancing queen is playing while… we’re, you know…”

“... having a moment?” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.

“well,” you cleared your throat, cheeks blazing, “if you can call me drunkenly staring at you while abba serenades us a ‘moment.’”

“hey, it’s a solid soundtrack choice,” he replied, looking like he was suppressing a laugh. “besides, don’t pretend this isn’t kinda perfect.”

“you think dancing queen is perfect for this?”

he shrugged, sipping his drink. “come on, you’re hammered, i’m here keeping you company, and we’re both, what… living in the moment?” he quirked a brow, his smirk widening as he eyed you, like he was daring you to argue.

and then, maybe out of pure liquid courage, or maybe because the absurdity was too much, you laughed. “yeah, living the moment… with some guy whose name i don’t even know.”

“toji,” he said, offering his hand with a lazy grin, like he’d just handed you a secret.

“toji,” you echoed, shaking his hand. he held on for a second longer than necessary, his gaze never leaving yours.

 oh, this guy was trouble, and you were in so deep.

“and you?” he asked, still holding your hand.

you barely managed to whisper your name, but it came out like a sigh, and he repeated it back like it was something precious. “well then,” he said, smirking, “guess that makes two dancing queens tonight.”

“toji…” you muttered, the name slipping off your tongue again as you tried to place it. there was something familiar about it, like you’d heard it before, but in your tequila-drenched state, nothing was sticking. 

toji, toji… where had you heard that name?

he cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused as you stared at him like he was the world’s most frustrating puzzle. “something on your mind?”

“n-no,” you stammered, then immediately backpedaled. “wait, actually, yes. toji, right?”

he nodded, a playful gleam in his eye. “that’s the one.”

“toji… toji…” you repeated, squinting at him as if a clearer view would magically connect the dots. and then, it hit you — toji fushiguro. 

the voice actor who would be bringing your spicy, shamelessly dramatic main character to life. 

the same guy you were supposed to meet tomorrow, the guy who was probably used to making everyone’s knees buckle with just a whisper.

“no way…” you whispered, clutching your head, and you could practically feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. “you — you’re… that toji?”

he gave a slight tilt of his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “what, surprised that i could be both hot and talented?”

you sputtered, trying to backtrack and failing miserably. “no! i mean, yes, but i just — tomorrow —  you’re… you’re the guy who’s voicing my main character?”

he leaned back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the whirlwind of emotions he was putting you through. “didn’t think the universe would give you a sneak preview tonight, huh?”

your fuzzy brain struggled to compute this twist of fate. you were drunk, mortified, and beyond flustered, sitting in a bar with the man who’d soon be giving voice to all your filthy, shameless words. this was almost too much.

“oh my god,” you muttered, sinking back in your seat. “i literally threw up on my main character’s shoes.”

toji let out a hearty laugh, patting your shoulder. “hey, if anything, i’d say it’s on-brand for the kind of night you’d write.”

just as you were processing the sheer, ridiculous insanity of the situation, a fresh wave of nausea hit you like a freight train. before you could even react, you leaned forward and… splattered the floor with a decidedly not-dignified stream of bile. this time, it was almost cinematic, complete with a dramatic gagging sound that had you doubling over.

you watched in horror as you once again spewed your insides onto the floor, narrowly missing toji’s shoes but definitely adding a new layer to the already mortifying scene. 

you’d probably just hit rock bottom.

“oh, god,” you groaned, covering your mouth with your hand as the bile burned your throat. “i swear… i’m not normally like this.”

toji chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he handed you a stack of napkins the bartender had generously supplied. “i’m starting to think i’m just a little too overwhelming for you, princess.”

you shot him a sheepish look as you wiped your mouth. overwhelming was an understatement. 

“yeah, maybe we can leave that out of tomorrow’s team introductions,” you mumbled, trying desperately to pull yourself together.

toji chuckled, tossing a few more napkins your way. “no judgment here. it’s a rough night for a first ‘meet-cute,’ but hey, you’re nothing if not memorable.”

you gripped the napkin, willing yourself to hold it together, at least until you could make a semi-dignified exit. “i don’t even want to know what story you’ll tell people about this.”

toji just laughed, completely unbothered, as if getting vomited on was a regular night for him. “don’t worry, i’ll keep it discreet.” his voice dipped, lowering to a murmur. “for a girl with secrets, i figure you’d appreciate that.”

he lifted his drink and gave you a small toast. “to first meetings — and unforgettable nights. and hey, maybe tomorrow, you’ll surprise me and keep it down.”

oh, god, you thought, as you attempted to bury yourself in your napkin. if only i could crawl under the bar and hide forever.

normally, you wouldn’t wake up with “dancing queen” stuck in your head, but as you nursed the remnants of a truly terrible hangover, it felt almost... pleasant? the upbeat melody cut through the fog of your brain, and you couldn’t help but hum along, even if the lyrics felt like a cruel reminder of your embarrassing escapades from the night before.

“you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life...”

wait, why dancing queen of all songs? you squinted at your alarm clock, your heart racing as the memories started flooding back like a poorly written rom-com. oh.

OH.

your eyes widened as you bolted out of bed with a speed that could make an olympic runner blush, frantically throwing on whatever clothes you could find — did you seriously still have a piece of glitter from last night stuck in your hair? gross! but no time for a shower; you had a meeting to get to at gojo-sonic, and you were about to meet — erm, remeet — toji fushiguro.

“ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen...”

as the lyrics blared in your head like an incessant movie soundtrack, you dashed out the door, praying you’d catch a cab in time. the universe couldn’t possibly let you walk into this meeting looking like a hot mess — especially when your main character's voice was waiting on the other side.

“you’re a tease you turn ‘em on…leave ‘em burning and then you’re gone…”

you rolled your eyes at your own ridiculousness. who cared if you’d practically thrown up on the guy? all you had to do was survive your own personal dance-off with fate and hope toji didn’t remember the lovely little details from last night.

you took a deep breath, determined to channel all the confidence you could muster. today was going to be great. right?

as you walked into the meeting room, gojo practically huffed an air of relief. you couldn’t help but think it was a little dramatic — like, it’s just a meeting. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the last remnants of your hangover and the lingering embarrassment of last night’s vomit-venture.

the room was brightly lit, filled with a few familiar faces, including toji, who was leaning casually against a table with that annoyingly charming grin plastered on his face. 

great. you’d somehow forgotten just how hot he was in the light of day. 

toji’s presence made your stomach flutter and flip, but you shoved that feeling down — this was business, after all.

you scanned the room and spotted gojo-sonic’s most valued investor suguru geto on a screen in the corner, his hair tied back and eyes sharp as he joined the meeting online. wow, great first impression! with a sudden wave of panic, you could almost hear the dancing queen lyrics mocking you in the back of your mind. what’s next, bursting into song?

“hey, look who finally made it!” toji said, amusement dancing in his eyes. perfect. if he was going to make light of your grand entrance, you had to think fast to steer the conversation away from the disaster that was last night.

“sorry for keeping you all waiting,” you replied, forcing a smile that hopefully didn’t look too forced. “i had... a crazy night.”

toji raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “crazy night, huh? did you bring us any stories?”

you shot him a warning glance, your heart racing as you internally pleaded with him not to say anything that could ruin your career. thankfully, he just chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back, letting the moment hang in the air without any revealing comments.

“i think we’d all like to hear that,” suguru said, his tone teasing as he adjusted the camera. “but let’s save the fun stuff for later, right? we’ve got work to do.”

you nodded, grateful for suguru’s timely intervention. “yes, absolutely! so, uh, about the voice work —”

the atmosphere shifted as the others exchanged knowing glances, and you knew you’d have to tread carefully. this meeting was crucial, and you couldn’t let last night’s incident derail everything you’d worked for. with any luck, maybe you could just keep your foot out of your mouth for the rest of the meeting.

toji always knew he was hot.

i mean, how could he not? 

with a jawline that could slice bread and a smirk that could charm the pants off anyone, confidence practically dripped off him like a cologne commercial. but the real question was: how to channel this hotness and turn it into something lucrative? great question! 

being a single dad to wasn’t easy, and running from odd job to odd job just to scrape enough money for the brat’s school was proving to be tiresome. until one day, a certain gojo satoru decided to drop a bombshell on him.

“toji, you ever think about using that voice of yours for something... more creative?” gojo asked, leaning back in his office chair, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“creative? what, like narrating my life as a sad single dad?” toji replied dryly, rolling his eyes. “because let me tell you, it’s not exactly a page-turner.”

“no, no, hear me out!” gojo insisted, practically bouncing in his seat. “i’m talking about voice acting — specifically, erotic audiobooks. it’s the next big thing!”

toji blinked, momentarily stunned. “you mean to tell me that the former bouncer at an elite club would be voicing erotic audiobooks? saying those weird, cringey lines that women seem to love? you’re insane.”

“think about it! you have the looks, the voice, and the whole mysterious vibe down pat,” gojo urged, waving his hands dramatically. “besides, you need the cash, and i need someone to bring a little... heat to my company.”

“you really think people want to hear me read lines like, ‘take me, you wild beast?’” toji quipped, snorting.

fast forward to his first recording session, where everything seemed to be going smoothly until disaster struck. toji was deep in character, delivering his best sexy voice when — bam! — the bathroom pipe exploded in his tiny flat.

“oh god, yes, just like that —” he started, voice dripping with sultry charm, when suddenly, a muffled splash! interrupted him, followed by megumi’s wail from the other room.

“dad! there’s water everywhere!”

toji cursed under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. “i’m coming! just... give me a second, i’m — ah, it’s getting so hot in here!” he struggled to continue, desperately trying to block out the chaos around him while the sounds of the pipe gushing water filled the audio.

but it turned out hormones took over the technical difficulties, because when the snippet was finally released, women and men of all ages were devouring it like it was the last slice of pizza at a party. it even went viral on tiktok, with cringe-worthy wannabes trying to recreate his sultry lines, failing miserably while toji sat back, amused.

“really? you think you can pull this off?” he chuckled to himself, watching one kid awkwardly mimic him. “nice try, kid. but good luck sounding this good while your mom’s screaming at you for hogging the bathroom.”

because toji wasn’t just a househusband — house father — anymore. he was a household name, and everyone knew him. his rise to fame was a wild ride, but hey, at least now he could afford to get the bathroom fixed — one line at a time.

he could hardly wrap his head around how he’d managed to move out of his tiny, crumbling apartment and into a much better place for him and megumi. it was like waking up one day and realizing he’d accidentally won the lottery. “wait, how did i end up here?” he’d mutter to himself, staring at the pristine walls and polished floors. “and how the hell can i pay megumi’s school fees on time without dodging dirty glares from the accounts office?”

he’d walk into the school, head held high, while megumi proudly puffed out his eight-year-old chest. “my daddy’s an actor!” he’d announce to anyone who would listen. toji couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. i mean, the kid wasn’t wrong. he was acting — acting like he had his life together, at least!

but did his new job stop toji from being a little hoe? oh, hell no. 

if anything, the fame went straight to his head — both up and down there, mind you. toji was like a kid in a candy store, and he was using his newfound charm to siphon money from literally every sugar mommy he could find. 

and daddies, too, if he was feeling daring. 

because people would die to be known as someone “close” to the toji fushiguro.

“oh my god, is that him?” a passerby would whisper, nudging her friend as they walked past toji at a private event.

“i think it is! i heard he’s dating someone famous,” her friend would respond, leaning in as if they were sharing a juicy secret. “i’ve seen him at that new club downtown. he’s just so... magnetic.”

“totally! i mean, if i could get him to call me ‘sweetheart’ just once, i’d die a happy woman,” the first friend would say, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.

toji would smirk to himself, sipping his drink while casually overhearing their chatter. “yep, you’re right. i’m as available as a 24/7 convenience store,” he’d think, reveling in the attention. "i could probably charm the pants off a rock if i tried."

another group of giggling fans would walk by, whispering amongst themselves, “i met him at that charity event last week! he was so sweet! like, did you see the way he talked to everyone? he’s definitely a heartthrob.”

“sweet? you mean hot, right?” one of them would tease, and they’d all burst into laughter.

“please, if he looked at me, i’d die!” another would declare, all starry-eyed.

toji’s smirk widened. “keep it coming, ladies. i’m just here for the show.” he couldn’t deny it; being the center of attention was intoxicating, and he was loving every second of it.

with a wink and a little wave, he’d keep strutting through life like a runway model, knowing full well he had the power to turn heads and keep wallets open. “who knew being a hot voice actor could be this fun?”

great that you’d ask what toji did with all that sweet, sweet cash! save it all for his brat of a son, of course, even if he wouldn’t admit it. beneath that rugged exterior and playful swagger, he had a soft spot for the little sucker.

just the other week, megumi had been rambling on about wanting a really cool new video game console. “but daddy, alllll my friends have one! it’s so unfair!” he’d whined, big blue eyes practically shimmering with hope. toji had rolled his eyes, trying to act tough, but the moment he saw the kid's face, his heart melted like butter on a hot skillet. “fine, but only if you promise to finish your homework first.”

the next day, megumi had unwrapped a brand-new console, complete with all the latest games, and toji had basked in the sheer delight radiating from his son. “this is the best day ever!” megumi had screamed, wrapping his arms around toji’s waist. “thank you, daddy!”

toji grinned like an idiot, pretending to be unimpressed. “yeah, yeah, don’t go losing it on the first day, alright? and remember, no playing after eight!” he was basically a walking contradiction: a grumpy dad who secretly loved being the cool parent.

then there was that time megumi had been obsessed with this rare action figure from his favorite show. toji had seen the way his son’s eyes lit up every time he spotted it in a store, but it was always sold out. so, naturally, when toji found one online at a steep price, he didn’t hesitate. “i’ll just skip my overpriced rum for a week. totally worth it.”

when megumi had opened the package, he’d literally jumped in the air, screeching like a siren. “no way! you got it for me!?” and toji had played it cool, shrugging his shoulders. “what can i say? your dad’s a generous guy.”

of course, this indulgence didn’t go unnoticed by gojo satoru. the six eyes — er, eyes! — of the man always seemed to be on toji, especially when he noticed his friend was splurging just a little too much on himself — like that new leather jacket that looked ridiculously good on him. 

“i need a jacket like that,” gojo had muttered to himself, glancing at his own wardrobe with disappointment.

whenever toji treated himself, gojo would quietly slide a check over to him, nonchalantly muttering, “just a little something for megumi’s school expenses.”

some people would have viewed it as offensive or patronizing, but not toji. he’d always laughed it off, feeling grateful instead. in his mind, gojo was like a guardian angel — “if guardian angels wore sunglasses and had a taste for expensive sweets.” he saw it as gojo looking out for megumi, which made toji’s heart swell with warmth. “who else would want to help raise my kid? might as well accept it.”

“just don’t make a habit of it, alright?” toji would say with a teasing grin. “i don’t need you spoiling him more than i do.”

“too late,” gojo would quip, already plotting ways to sneak more gifts into megumi’s life. “it’s my new hobby.”

so, when gojo casually dropped the bomb that toji would be voicing one of the hottest, trending smut book — “mating with the demon king” or something equally ridiculous — toji shrugged it off. “simple enough job,” he thought. “and it must be good if they came to me for it.”

but when gojo suggested he read the book to get an idea of the material — “just a little prep work,” he’d said with that infuriatingly charming grin — things took a wild turn.

big mistake, toji would later reflect as he flipped through the pages, his eyebrows shooting up higher than a roller coaster. “who writes this stuff?” he muttered, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

the content was downright depraved. there were scenes that had him questioning his entire existence. 

“‘he thrust into her like a man possessed, each stroke igniting a fire within her’ — what even is that?” he read aloud, only to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness. megumi, playing quietly in the other room, wondered why his daddy was cackling like a madman.

“uh, daddy? why are you reading that out loud?” megumi had peeked in, eyes wide with curiosity. toji quickly scrambled to shut the book. “uh, just… learning about, uh, cooking techniques!” he stammered, trying to play it cool. “you wouldn’t get it, buddy.”

but the laughter continued to bubble out of him, and he couldn’t help but read some of the more ludicrous lines. “‘his lips found her collarbone, trailing heat like a wildfire’ — who even talks like that?” he shook his head, utterly bemused.

by the end of the chapter, he was howling. “‘she gasped as he swept her off her feet and into a world of ecstasy’ — oh please!” toji chortled, clutching his stomach, imagining how this would all sound through a microphone. “my kid is gonna think i’ve lost my goddamn mind.”

but hey, if this job was going to pay the bills, he figured he could endure a little humiliation. “it’s all in a day’s work, right?” he muttered to himself, finally accepting that he was now the voice of “mating with the demon king.”

all that reading really took its toll on toji — physically, mentally, spiritually even. after hours spent tripping over lines like “pressed against the throbbing heat of his desire” (yeah, that one took five tries to get through without laughing), he needed to clear his head. so, he found himself at a bar, halfway through a drink, hoping to numb the embarrassment he’d just endured in the name of rent money.

then stumbles this stranger — a cute, very tipsy stranger who quickly parked herself right next to him and started chatting him up, wide-eyed and slightly unsteady. great, drunk people, he thought, resisting an eyeroll as she grinned at him, looking ready to either start a fight or profess her love. 

maybe both.

of course, what are the odds she’d go ahead and throw up on his shoes? yes, his brand-new shoes, because, apparently, the universe had decided that tonight, toji fushiguro would be the world’s personal punching bag. “can’t even get through one drink without some shit happening,” he muttered to himself as she looked up at him with a horrified expression. “we’re off to a great start here, huh?”

after some water and some awkward apologies (mostly her apologizing, mostly him trying not to laugh), they fell into surprisingly decent conversation. she was rambling about her job, the stress, the weird demands — stuff he could sympathize with, honestly. 

and that’s when he dropped it, just for fun: “i’m a voice actor.”

her eyes sparkled with recognition — a little too much recognition, actually, which made him narrow his eyes. “wait, what’s your name?” she asked, suddenly all ears.

“toji. toji fushiguro.”

the second he said it, her face went from curious to horrified to... oh yeah, she knew exactly who he was. “wait,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. “you’re... you’re the voice actor for my book.”

toji raised an eyebrow, deadpan. 

so this was the writer, the one who wrote all that nonsense he’d been struggling through for days. well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top. not only was this his boss but also the very person responsible for phrases like “pulsing need” and “moans spilling like honey.” and she’d just puked on him. 

talk about a power move.

“small world,” he said, his tone dry as desert sand. wonderful, he thought. my boss threw up on me. but, hey, the night was still young. 

he took a long sip from his drink, hoping she wouldn’t take this as an excuse to unleash some kind of creative critique.

“i... i didn’t know you’d be here,” she stammered, a shade redder than before, probably realizing what this made her look like — her, the lady behind the “throbbing heat of desire” shtick.

“don’t worry,” he said, giving her a smirk. “i won’t tell anyone the literary mastermind responsible for all that... romance has a weak stomach.”

you probably don’t remember much after you composed yourself following that second round of projectile embarrassment — but don’t worry, toji remembers. the man’s got a steel trap for the kinds of memories you’d prefer stayed buried. once he’d figured out that you weren’t exactly in shape to be left wandering around, he made the executive decision to get you home. yeah, he’d just met you a couple hours ago, but somehow, through the boozy haze and questionable life choices, he’d managed to catch your address. 

impressive detective work, really… or, well, you may have blurted it out mid-ramble about how “the streetlight outside is the only thing lighting up your lonely hallway.” 

a touch dramatic, but, hey, it worked.

so he got you back to your place (no thanks to the cab driver’s judgmental side-eye), got you up the stairs without you faceplanting, and, after propping you up long enough to unlock your door, he even went the extra mile and tucked you under the covers. you, meanwhile, mumbled something about “tequila being the devil,” blissfully oblivious to the poor guy who’d just witnessed more of your personal life than your closest friends. toji took one last look before heading out, chuckling to himself as you drifted off, probably already dreaming of whatever literary nonsense you’d be writing next.

but what really stuck with him? the damn “dancing queen” chorus ringing in his ears from the bar. maybe it was still playing somewhere out there in the night, or maybe you’d just cursed him with it. because as he walked home, hands shoved in his pockets, there it was, looping over and over in his head. 

“you can dance… you can jive…” 

great, now he’d be humming it for days.

both you and toji were snapped back into the fluorescent-lit reality of the conference room, where gojo was still going on about… royalties? percentages? to be honest, the entire spiel sounded more like corporate white noise to you. 

toji, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, looking as disinterested as humanly possible without actually falling asleep. across the screen, suguru appeared in one of those stiff, all-business modes, nodding along to gojo’s speech. his eyes had that telltale sparkle that only appeared when money was the topic — “stakeholder perks,” as gojo would call it, though it just meant suguru got to rake in extra cash on the side.

“and once the audiobook’s live, the split from the sales will be recalculated quarterly, yadda yadda, yadaaa —” gojo’s voice broke into a sing-song, clearly amusing only himself. “anyway, you guys will see some real sweet checks from this.”

“royalties…” suguru interjected, a bit too smoothly, “remind me what those projected percentages were again, satoru?”

toji suppressed a snort. here they were, with the man himself who could barely be bothered to read a weather report straight, much less your raunchy magnum opus. good luck explaining earnings, gojo.

“oh yeah, royalties!” gojo cleared his throat, launching into a number-laden monologue that seemed to somehow both explain everything and nothing at once. toji barely listened, glancing at the digital clock on the wall. it was only when gojo pivoted, with a suddenly very pointed look, that toji actually tuned back in.

“so, did everyone do their, ah, homework?” gojo grinned as his gaze swept across the room, his eyes landing on you with a bit too much knowing amusement. “read the… material?”

you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, and every other voice actor in the room suddenly found the table, the wall, or their own shoes very interesting.

all except toji, of course, who stretched back with the most obnoxious smirk you’d seen yet.

“homework?” he drawled, deadpan as always. “yeah, got right into it. wouldn’t want to miss a single word of that… fine literature.”

a few of the others exchanged awkward looks, clearly unsure how to respond to the dead-serious way toji said fine literature without a shred of irony. meanwhile, you shrank a little in your seat, not exactly loving the fact that the guy you threw up on was apparently the one voice actor who actually read your work cover-to-cover. not to mention, this was toji fushiguro, the voice actor who’d taken the world by storm with a single, leaked snippet. you'd heard your fans say that he was some kind of god-tier talent — practically a household name. and now? 

he was casually staring you down like he'd just read your diary.

“it’s… it’s not that bad,” you muttered defensively, feeling a prickling heat rise up your neck.

toji raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “oh, didn’t say it was bad. just, uh… thorough.”

you felt the blush intensify, but before you could reply, gojo jumped back in, undeterred. “great! since everyone’s read it now, we’ll dive into scene breakdowns tomorrow, with input from our illustrious author here.” he winked at you in that annoyingly playful way of his, as if he’d just orchestrated the whole thing for kicks. “it’s all about bringing your vision to life, yeah?”

“looking forward to it.” toji’s tone was smooth, with just enough emphasis to hint at the mischief lying behind his calm expression. you could swear there was a glimmer of challenge in his eyes, and the fact that he’d actually read the book — a book that you wrote in a creative haze, no less — was beginning to feel less like a weird coincidence and more like some cosmic joke at your expense.

suguru’s voice broke through, “and let’s hope that translates to success, right, gojo? my dividends would certainly appreciate it.”

“oh, don’t you worry, sugu bear.” gojo leaned in with that shark-like grin of his. “with toji voicing this masterpiece, and the author right here to guide us? we’re printing money already.”

with a dramatic flourish, gojo clapped his hands together, instantly breaking the tension. “alright, dismissed! snacks are out front — help yourselves, or not! more for me, after all,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he clearly envisioned his sugary hoard.

suguru took this moment as his graceful exit cue, giving a short nod before the screen blinked off. gojo sighed theatrically, clasping his chest. “oh, suguru, leaving so soon? you wound me! who’s going to discuss ‘dividends’ and ‘royalties’ with me now?”

nobody had the heart — or possibly the patience — to answer that question, which suited gojo just fine as he spun on his heel, making his way toward the snack table. 

you, meanwhile, considered vanishing altogether, at least until the next segment of the day when you’d actually need to make yourself useful. judging by the energy in the room, none of the other voice actors were in a rush to strike up a conversation with you. 

ouch. apparently, being the creator of their next project wasn’t that much of a social asset.

you edged toward the door, already halfway to freedom when, like clockwork, a deep, familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “leaving so soon?”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. obnoxious didn’t even cover half of it. “just… thought i’d give you guys a break from me,” you muttered, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, hoping it looked casual instead of like an attempt to bolt.

toji’s laugh was low, almost teasing. “a break? i don’t mind the company. in fact, i think the others are just shy.” his words were smooth, but there was a mischievous lilt to them, like he was very aware of just how uncomfortable you probably were.

“right,” you deadpanned, summoning every ounce of sarcasm you had left. “they’re all just shy.”

he chuckled, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the snack table. gojo was already there, unabashedly sampling a tray of tiny cupcakes. he shot you both a grin that was, in all honesty, more threatening than friendly. 

oh god, why is he looking at us like that?

“so!” gojo swiped another cupcake, leaning back against the table as he took in you and toji with an almost too-pleased expression. “getting along, are we? i mean, it’s not every day you get to work so closely with the voice behind your book, right?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if trying to ignite some sort of spark just to make things interesting.

toji, unbothered as ever, shrugged. “she already threw up on me. might as well be friends after that, huh?”

oh my god. 

you felt the flush rise to your face instantly, a mix of embarrassment and horror. he did not just bring that up in front of gojo, of all people.

“aww, how cute!” gojo crooned, looking absolutely delighted as he clapped his hands in that overly-enthusiastic, not-at-all sincere way. “bonding over bodily fluids. you guys are practically soulmates!”

“please, kill me now,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at the snack table like it might provide an escape hatch.

toji leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone. “don’t worry, author. i’ve seen worse.”

“great, that’s… comforting,” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you grabbed a snack at random. at this point, you were ready to make a quick exit, potentially before the day’s work even started if it meant escaping this scene.

“now, don’t run off too fast,” gojo added, wagging a finger at you with a sly grin. “i’m expecting all of us back here in an hour, nice and energized. don’t want any excuses!”

toji shot you one last look, equal parts teasing and unreadable, before he turned to grab a coffee. “guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer,” he murmured, a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes.

wonderful. absolutely wonderful. well, at least there’s cupcakes.

it’s only five minutes into the recording session, and you’re already wondering if there’s a job market for earth-burrowing positions. if there is, you’d gladly take it. anything would be better than this…circus.

the sound booth is packed with voice actors delivering line after line of your book’s carefully crafted (painfully cheesy) smutty dialogue. you bite your lip, both cringing and resisting the urge to laugh out loud as one of the actors, a slender guy with an unfortunate tendency to over-dramatize every vowel, reads his line with a tragic sigh.

“i can’t help it… i just want to devour you.”

devour you? you want to throw yourself into the nearest trash can. before you can stop yourself, you lean forward into the mic, managing a half-apologetic, half-pleading tone. “uh, could you maybe… ease up on the ‘devour’ part? like, less dramatic, more… suave?”

he nods seriously, doing a quick vocal warm-up before trying again. “i can’t help it… i just want to devoooour—”

“nope! nope, nope, nope!” you blurt, a little louder than you intended, the cringe spiraling out of control. you quickly clear your throat, trying to sound as professional as possible. “let’s, uh, maybe just skip to the next line.”

from the corner of the room, you catch sight of gojo, who’s grinning so widely you’re genuinely concerned his face might stay that way forever. he’s watching you with an infectious enthusiasm that’s bordering on manic, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement. you’re half-expecting him to yell, “surprise! this is an snl skit!”

you rub at your temple, wishing the earth would do you a solid and open up beneath you, while the next actor — a petite, sweet-looking woman who’s visibly uncomfortable — takes her turn. she clears her throat, looking down at her script, and delivers the line in a barely-there whisper, “i… i want you to take me… take me as if…”

“um…” you grimace, instantly feeling the heat rise to your face. “maybe a bit louder? but, you know, sensual.”

she blushes, muttering something under her breath before raising her voice, though it’s still trembling. “i… i want you to… take me… as if…”

toji, who’s been watching the whole scene from his seat, chuckles lowly, and his smirk sends a jolt of embarrassment through you. “jeez, author, why don’t you just hop in there and show ’em how it’s done?” he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm, though it’s not unkind.

you throw him a flat look, biting back an eye roll. not like i wanted to be here, you think to yourself. it’s just that somehow, the universe decided that today you’d be responsible for turning lines you’d never want to say out loud into something even remotely palatable.

and it only gets worse. 

another actor — a deep-voiced, well-meaning guy in his mid-40s — leans into his mic and reads out, in a gruff voice you can only describe as a rejected batman impersonation: “you’re driving me… wild.” his tone is so intense it’s like he’s threatening to fight the listener in a parking lot.

“okay… we might want to dial it back a little,” you say carefully, hoping to mask your horror with politeness. “just… a little less ‘supervillain,’ more… warm?”

you hear toji chuckle behind you, low and rumbling, clearly reveling in your suffering. and as you glance over your shoulder, you find gojo, once again, looking like this is the best entertainment he’s had in years. 

at this point, he might actually cry from laughing.

just when you think it can’t get any worse, toji stands, giving you a wink as he heads into the booth for his turn. he takes the mic, his face blank and unreadable as he starts reading the next line.

“i need you… right now,” he purrs, his voice oozing that lazy, sensual charm you’d envisioned for this character. it’s… almost unfair, really. 

there’s not an ounce of irony or overacting. 

toji’s delivery is so smooth, so confident, that it catches you off guard, a flush rising to your cheeks.

gojo lets out a low whistle, giving you a teasing look as if to say, see? was that so hard?

“finally,” you mutter under your breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. gojo raises a brow, clearly enjoying every second of your awkwardness.

you sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the rest of the recording. if nothing else, at least one actor seems to have nailed the tone — much to your embarrassment and gojo’s endless delight.

you clear your throat, attempting to regain some semblance of control over the recording session, which is proving to be harder than herding a pack of caffeinated cats. “right, everyone, let’s, uh, keep moving and go ahead with recording the dragon king’s lines. toji, if you’re ready?”

but you barely finish your sentence before gojo claps toji on the shoulder with that all-too-annoying bromance energy, grinning from ear to ear. “our star is ready, aren’t ya, toji? i mean, look at this guy! look at him! can’t believe i found this gem for gojo-sonic!” gojo’s voice carries that infuriatingly proud tone that practically drips with smug satisfaction.

you stifle an eye roll, and even the other actors exchange glances, half-annoyed, half-amused at gojo’s over-the-top fawning. but before you can jump in to cut gojo off, toji just smirks, sliding comfortably into the mic like he was born to deliver cheesy lines.

“alright, alright,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “let’s see what you’ve got, mr. dragon king.”

toji adjusts the headphones, his lazy smirk already primed. 

and then he begins, voice low and sultry, hitting each cringe-worthy word with the same ridiculous gravitas that has the whole room mesmerized.

“i have waited eons for a beauty like yours to grace my realm. come… be mine, and together we shall rule the heavens.”

you can practically feel everyone holding their breath, transfixed by the sheer sincerity in his tone, despite the line’s absurdity. you, too, can’t help but feel a blush creeping up your neck, which is just unfair given you wrote these lines. 

you knew what they were meant to sound like, but this? 

he’s delivering them like they’re damn poetry.

toji doesn’t stop there, though, his deep voice carrying each line as though he’s serenading the mic. “my heart burns with a fire only you can soothe. take my hand, and i swear to guard your heart with my very life.”

gojo is practically fawning, batting his eyelashes like a proud parent in the corner. “see, people, this is how it’s done! let the dragon king here show you amateurs how it’s really supposed to sound!”

you resist the urge to chuck something at gojo as the other actors’ eyes widen, watching in awe.

one of them mutters under their breath, “no way we’re topping that.”

and then, toji’s voice dips even lower, the next line coming out in a growl that somehow manages to be both dramatic and, disturbingly, kind of… enchanting.

“you are the breath in my lungs, the flame in my veins. without you, i am but a shadow… a beast in the dark.”

the room is dead silent. 

you’re all fawning, gushing messes, and you’re not even sure how it happened. it’s like toji’s somehow turned this trial recording into an absurdly hot moment. you can barely believe you’re hearing the same lines you once labeled “ridiculously cringey” in the draft.

finally, he leans back, looking pleased with himself, as if he hadn’t just left everyone a little breathless. gojo practically beams with pride, nudging you. 

“so… i think you’ve found your dragon king, wouldn’t you say?”

you nod, still stunned, half in disbelief, half in begrudging admiration. if this was just the trial recording, you could only imagine how many blushing, starry-eyed listeners this final audiobook was going to leave in its wake.

the moment the trial recording session wraps up, gojo is the first one on his feet, clapping his hands like he's just watched the performance of a lifetime. “brilliant!” he practically shouts, pulling out his phone faster than you can blink. “suguru needs to hear this,” he mutters, already dialing his business partner like a kid who can’t wait to brag about his latest toy.

sometimes you really do forget that gojo is the ceo of a multi-million dollar company — an erotic audiobook company, no less. 

is he this passionate about the art, or is it just the money? either way, watching him fanboy over his own employee leaves you a mix of amused and exhausted.

there’s a charm to it, though, even if it’s a little baffling to witness in real time.

as the energy in the studio starts to mellow, you find yourself actually breathing a bit easier. for once, things seem to be going smoothly. 

maybe this whole collaboration wouldn’t be a disaster after all. 

you let yourself relax, even if a small part of your brain chides you with a quick reminder: next time, skip the cheap caffeine fix when you’re pulling an all-nighter writing smut. 

or… cheap anything, really. 

yeah, you don’t actually smoke, you remind yourself — except, well, that one time in college, but hey, that was a whole different you. one that should stay buried in the relics of questionable decisions, right next to your spiral-bound notes of embarrassingly bad poetry.

just as you’re praying to the universe that this is all going to wrap up without any extra drama, you hear it. the sound that’s become both your nightmare and… okay, maybe, a little less than that.

“well, princess,” toji’s voice rumbles, his tone as amused as it is teasing, “got anything else you want from your dragon king?”

you close your eyes and will the ground to open up beneath you, but nope, nothing. 

nothing but the sound of your heartbeat doing an awkward little tango in your chest.

of course he’d pick now to resurrect that ridiculous moniker from last night. like it wasn’t humiliating enough when he threw it out there while you were a couple drinks deep and all but glued to your seat at the bar. 

oh, you’re practically begging the universe to put you out of your misery — well, actually, now that you think about it, maybe being wrapped up in those beefy arms wouldn’t be the worst fate…

wow. get a grip, girl. this is the caffeine deprivation talking. 

definitely that.

but then toji smirks at you, an eyebrow raised, as if he’s just dared you to respond. and all you can think is… oh, lord, this man is trouble.

"c’mon, just a drink,” toji insists, flashing that devil-may-care grin that both ruins and improves your day within a matter of seconds. he’s leaning back like he’s got all the time in the world, casually ignoring how you definitely don’t. 

“trust me, princess, it’ll settle your nerves.”

it’s not like you need a reminder of the mess that was last night. every foggy memory swirls in your head, like life’s own cruel version of a mocktail — one garnished with shame, regret, and a generous helping of last night’s tequila. 

if anything, adding more drinks to this equation feels about as smart as walking blindfolded into traffic.

but toji’s already up, stretching like he’s completely unaware of the chaotic memories this whole “outing” is summoning. “just a quick look around gojo-sonic, yeah?” he says, nodding toward the maze of hallways beyond the studio door, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

“you’re new here, and it’s… important to know the lay of the land. work reasons.”

you can practically hear the quotation marks around that “work reasons.”

“you know,” he adds with a wink, “never hurts to see where the magic happens.”

yeah, right. you have a feeling the only magic here is him somehow dragging you deeper into your personal nightmare.

you don’t even get the chance to respond with a yes, no, or a “maybe next century” when toji’s phone lights up and his whole expression darkens. not exactly the look you expect from the guy whose voice practically ruined half the internet last month with that infamous line about... well, yeah, better not go there right now.

“satoru, the brat got into a fight,” he growls into the phone, and suddenly, satoru’s jaw hits the floor with such force you can practically hear it from across the studio. toji doesn’t stick around for a reply, though — he’s already striding toward the door like a man with a purpose, ignoring satoru’s spluttered, “the what did who?”

and somehow — god knows how — you find yourself tagging along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s the thrill of seeing toji in full boss mode, or maybe it’s just because, oh, y’know, “responsible adult and responsibilities” instincts or whatever. 

but the further you walk, the more you realize that toji doesn’t mind you following one bit. in fact, he’s practically matching his pace to yours, as if you’re part of some unofficial escort mission to... whoever this “brat” is.

which, speaking of, who the hell is megumi?

you’re still trying to wrap your head around how this was supposed to be a “quick tour” of the office and not, somehow, an impromptu escort mission to the world’s sleekest car, a porsche 911 turbo — yep, that’s right, the kind of car you’ve only ever seen in movies where the bad guy’s got a mysterious, sexy side. all you can manage is, “you own this?”

toji shrugs, slipping his keys into the ignition with an air of pure, unbothered cool. “you don’t?”

oh. okay. 

you barely have time to process this response before he’s peeling out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding a stray cat, a snail-paced truck, and an old lady who’s almost sacrificed her wig to his driving style. but hey, all part of the thrill, right?

definitely not questioning life choices here.

by the time you pull up to a cutesy primary school — you know, the kind with pastel-colored gates and cartoon murals of bears and rabbits — you’re genuinely confused. 

toji seems like the last guy who’d be here unless it was some undercover op. and “megumi,” whoever he is, sounds like he could be the school’s playground menace.

“wait, this is where we’re headed?” you ask, eyeing the building like it might suddenly make sense.

but toji’s out of the car, moving so fast you practically have to jog to keep up. the school secretary gives you both a wary glance, likely sensing the storm of exasperation radiating off toji, as he strides straight into the principal’s office. there, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl that screams “mini-toji,” is a little boy with spiky hair and an air of quiet defiance.

without missing a beat, toji asks, “megs! did you win?”

the principal, a kindly-looking woman whose expression is rapidly shifting from “calm mediator” to “i don’t get paid enough for this,” clears her throat. 

“mr. fushiguro, your son wasn’t... in the wrong, per se. it appears he was, um, defending his honor.”

defending his honor? you blink. what kind of second grader even knows what that means?

“that true, ‘gumi?” toji says, arms crossed, looking every bit the unbothered, proud dad of the year.

“he said my dad was a... weird voice actor,” megumi mutters, then shrugs. “so i said at least my dad works.”

you nearly choke, partly from stifled laughter, partly from the sheer absurdity of all this. here you were, thinking “honor” meant, like, taking down a playground empire or something. 

but no, megumi’s just a kid with a sharp tongue and a little too much of toji’s attitude.

“damn right, kid,” toji says, patting megumi’s head, then looking over at you with that familiar, annoyingly smug grin. “raised him right, yeah?”

“...sure,” you say, because what else can you even say at this point? it’s like you’ve stumbled into the weirdest sitcom ever, and the laugh track is somehow missing.

the principal’s expression morphs into something almost painfully polite as she addresses you, tiptoeing around the word wife with an impressive mix of caution and curiosity. 

“are you, ah... megumi’s guardian?”

and then, in perfect, unplanned harmony, you, toji, and megumi all blurt out, “no.”

the unity, the instinctual synchronization — it’s like you’re all on the same wavelength, for better or worse. soul-level understanding, or something. 

what the hell is happening right now?

with a polite smile and a “let’s never speak of this again” nod, you three finally leave the principal’s office. megumi, looking more bored than reprimanded, flicks at a speck of lint on his uniform, while you and toji attempt to navigate the hallway swarming with concerned teachers and worried front-desk ladies. and by “concerned” and “worried,” it’s more like they’re curious about toji’s parenting style and, let’s be honest, probably toji himself.

“oh, mr. fushiguro!” one particularly invested teacher coos, “we heard about the incident. is everything all right?”

toji, of course, laps up the attention, chuckling low and throwing in a wink here and there like he’s starring in some kind of action-movie dad role. the ladies are practically falling over themselves to get a response from him, their questions barely veiled as they assess you with raised brows and sideways glances, a classic “who’s she?” written all over their faces.

“and you are...?” one of the front-desk ladies finally asks, voice all sugar-coated and sharp.

toji slides in smoothly, cutting off whatever half-formed, awkward introduction you were about to stammer out. “oh, she’s a colleague,” he says, his tone effortlessly suave, like introducing a perfectly respectable coworker and totally not the author of his last, extremely explicit audiobook project.

you’re almost grateful until it hits you — this is the same guy who made a whole production of calling you “princess” in the recording booth just yesterday. 

as if he hasn’t played one of your absurdly corny dragon kings in all his full-throttle intensity. 

and now he’s here, all casual and cool, giving you a proper, respectable title like he hasn’t spent hours voicing content these people probably keep hidden under their pillows at night.

but at least he didn’t out you as the actual author of those… creative pieces. 

that’s something.

toji is out here, doing his social service to society. and no, it’s not about lending his voice to steamy audiobooks, thank you very much. 

today, he’s serving the community by providing these teachers with a generous five minutes of his attention, which they’ll probably be replaying in their heads until the next parent-teacher meeting. and — oh, what a surprise! — that’s exactly what they’re talking about now, circling back to how he must come to the next one for a “serious discussion” about megumi.

toji’s stance? why bother? if the kid’s acing his tests, staying out of trouble (mostly), and keeping a lid on the whole “honor” thing, why does he need to sit through hours of polite lecturing from the pta?

while he’s busy justifying his lack of parental enthusiasm, you feel a pair of eyes on you. glancing down, you meet megumi’s steady, curious stare. 

it’s oddly intense for a kid his age, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. you narrow your eyes, feigning a critical, assessing look, and he visibly falters, going slightly pink around the ears.

ah, kids.

as you three make your way out of the building — toji still being all socialite with the staff and probably postponing that pta date indefinitely — you suddenly find yourself in a mini interview  with megumi. it’s as if this eight-year-old has appointed himself the gatekeeper of his dad’s life and has decided you’re the latest applicant.

“so… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with an unblinking, serious stare.

“uh…” you pause, realizing the weight of your answer here. “blue. like, uh, light blue.”

he nods, considering. “good answer.”

a pause. “favorite superhero?”

“batman?” you try, glancing at him for a sign of approval.

“hmm. fine. but iron man would’ve been better.”

noted, you think, as he then moves to cereal brand, favorite animal, and even your preferred subject in school. you navigate each question as best as you can, almost feeling the burn of a final exam.

then, in a moment of quiet, just as you think the quiz is over, megumi looks down and asks, voice barely a whisper, “did i… do the right thing? defending my… my hone-er?”

“your… oh, honor?” you say, a smile twitching at the corner of your mouth as you catch his wide-eyed, earnest gaze.

he nods, cheeks tinting a bit as he scuffs his sneaker on the ground.

“megumi,” you say, kneeling a little to get on his level, “defending your honor is important. just… maybe don’t go for all the punches next time? sometimes words work too.” you give him a playful nudge.

he nods, seeming satisfied with that answer, then glances over his shoulder. “and don’t tell daddy i asked.”

“your secret’s safe with me,” you whisper back, giving him a conspiratorial wink.

toji’s arms were crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched the little interaction between you and megumi. 

he was always careful about the people around his kid, fiercely protective to the point that very few in his line of work even knew megumi existed. the only ones who had ever met him were gojo and geto — and that was already a stretch.

but something about how you handled the kid’s questions, actually entertained them with the same patience he’d usually summon up himself, caught him off guard. the way you knelt down to answer him, even kept a straight face through the hard-hitting topics of favorite superheroes and cereal brands... it was surprisingly nice. 

almost… reassuring?

ugh, what was he even thinking? you were still the same girl who’d written, and he mentally cringed as he remembered the line, 

“dragons may have claws, but they’re nothing compared to the grip i have on your…” 

yeah, yeah, he really didn’t need to finish that thought. the memory alone had him chuckling under his breath, shaking his head.

of course, that earned him a suspicious glance from both you and megumi.

“what’s so funny?” you asked, brow raised.

“yeah, daddy, why’re you laughing?” megumi chimed in, clearly puzzled.

toji waved a hand dismissively, realizing he’d just blown his cool for no reason. 

“nothin’, don’t worry about it. just thinkin’,” he mumbled, aware he’d probably looked a little unhinged just then. 

maybe he really needed to work on his awareness — or maybe he just needed to get a grip, period.

toji’s mind was doing somersaults, genuinely debating if he could manage both you and megumi tagging along for the afternoon. megumi’s insistence didn’t help; kid was determined that toji should keep you both company for the rest of the day, despite having school hours left. 

“you’ve got work, right?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious. “aren’t you supposed to be off doing big, important actor things?”

toji only smirked, whipping out his phone with the sort of confidence that made it clear he had a workaround for everything. he tapped open a message to gojo, fingers moving fast.

you [11:31 am]: hey. kid’s dragging me to the arcade. need a few hours off. gojo s. [11:33 am]: need or WANT, toji? ;)) you [11:31 am]: like i said, KID is dragging me. gojo s. [11:33 am]: oh sure, blame megumi. what, does he have you wrapped around his little finger or something? you [11:31 am]: think whatever you want, but you’re handling my schedule for the rest of the day. gojo s. [11:33 am]: wait, are you with...the AUTHOR? ;)) you [11:31 am]: quit smiling through text, it’s creepy. gojo s. [11:33 am]: i’ll allow it. but only cause i’m such a good friend.  gojo s. [11:33 am]: tell megumi uncle gojo says hi  gojo s. [11:34 am]: and he owes me 20 bucks. you [11:35 am]: he doesn’t owe you anything. gojo s. [11:35 am]: fine, but bring me something from the prize counter.

satisfied, toji pocketed his phone and shrugged. 

“all right, kid. we’ll hang out for a bit. but i swear if you drag me into any embarrassing games —”

“arcade!” megumi interrupted, not even giving him a chance to finish. “i can show you both that i’m the best at every game! daddy taught me how to play, so you better watch out!”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the kid’s enthusiasm.

“all right, let’s go. but you better not make me look bad, kid,” toji said, smirking down at his son, who was now practically vibrating with eagerness.

“arcade!” megumi yelled again, nearly bouncing as he grabbed your hand and began to lead the way.

megumi barely lets you settle into the leather of the passenger seat before he’s bouncing in the back, practically vibrating with energy as he plugs toji’s phone into the aux. you’re trying to wrap your head around being in toji fushiguro’s car, the man who not only voices the romantic lead in your steamiest, most dramatic book but also owns a luxury car that could probably pay off your loans twice over.

"so, uh... passenger princess, huh?" toji smirks, catching you in mid-thought.

"i… what?" you stammer, feeling the heat creep up as he settles a hand on the wheel with all the nonchalance in the world. “i, uh —” but you’re cut off by megumi excitedly blasting his choice of artist: korn.

"your son listens to korn?" you blurt out, giving toji a mix of awe and disbelief.

toji just raises an eyebrow, deadpanning, “yours doesn’t?”

ouch. okay, fair point. 

because no, you do not have a kid, or a husband, or even a boyfriend…or any romantic prospects, really. 

toji’s question leaves you fidgeting as you try to muster a dignified response.

meanwhile, megumi is full-on screaming to the lyrics of "freak on a leash," and you catch snippets like “something takes a part of me!” which, yeah, relatable — korn is honestly hitting the mood. but of course, toji catches you staring out the window, attempting to look casual as he throws you a side-eye.

"so, what’s got you without a boyfriend?” he asks, way too casually, as if this was a natural segue from whatever korn-fueled karaoke session is happening in the backseat.

you practically choke on air. "what, me? no, i’m...," you laugh awkwardly, shifting in the passenger seat. “besides, i don’t meet many guys. i'm just… you know… doing my thing.”

megumi, pausing his headbanging just for a moment, turns and looks at you with an exaggerated ‘yikes’ face, as if being single was the worst possible fate in his young, eight-year-old eyes. 

but then he shrugs, clearly uninterested in this adult drama and goes back to screaming, “feeling like a freak on a leash!”

toji, still watching you, smirks, “so, doing your ‘thing’ includes no boyfriend, no husband... what, are you just swearing off men?”

"uh, no!” you say quickly, too quickly, and feel your face heat up. “just haven’t... y’know, met anyone worth dating. been busy.”

toji gives a low chuckle, clearly entertained. “busy doing what, writing your ‘torrid love stories’?”

you make a face, biting your lip. 

“they’re not that torrid.” but even as you say it, you hear the echo of a particularly cheesy line you’d written for his character in your novel, which, mortifyingly enough, involved the phrase “my darling flame, you set my very soul alight.”

toji chuckles, as if reading your thoughts. “maybe i’ll get to hear one of those lines in real life someday, princess.”

“can we not call me that while megumi’s in the car?” you mutter, glancing back, only to find megumi fully engrossed in his self-proclaimed vocal talents.

“noted.” toji snickers, shooting you another mischievous look as korn plays on, megumi happily singing about “breaking down” in the back.

“but hey,” toji says smoothly, hand resting on the gearshift, “just so you know, even my son knows a good band when he hears one.”

you roll your eyes at him, managing to mumble, “at least one of you is a bit mature.”

the porsche pulls up to the arcade with enough fanfare that heads start turning even before the engine purrs to a stop. not that the onlookers were ready for what steps out next: a towering, chiseled man looking like he’s on his way to a modeling photoshoot, a cute kid in full confidence mode, and, well… you.

still feeling a little dizzy from the korn concert that just took place, you barely register megumi bolting out of the car with a grin, leaving you and toji to get your bearings. his energy’s practically crackling by the time toji pays for the play card, and you’re pretty sure if he has to wait even one more minute, he’s about to combust.

“okay, okay, slow down, megumi,” you say, trying to keep up as he yanks you to the nearest neon-lit game. 

but the kid isn’t hearing it. he’s already dragging you to one machine, and then the next, moving faster than you can process where you even are. each one is seemingly more intense and blinding than the last, and you’re hit with a sensory overload of neon lights, retro game sounds, and the feel of the arcade carpet sticking just a little too much to your shoes.

toji’s watching the whole ordeal with a bemused smirk. you and his kid are like a whirlwind of neon and laughter, barely stopping to catch your breaths between games. the sight is somehow… comforting. like a scene from a life he hadn’t planned but couldn’t help finding strangely compelling.

but then he catches himself. seriously? 

he shakes his head. this is not the time to get all sentimental over his kid’s new ‘playdate’ or whatever. 

he’s just here because megumi insisted, and maybe he thought it’d be amusing to watch you get dragged around by an eight-year-old with zero restraint. that’s it. 

nothing more.

yeah, right. his internal grumbling comes to an abrupt stop as he watches megumi take your hand and pull you over to a classic claw machine. the kid’s looking up at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen, all excitement and pure innocence, like winning one of those knockoff plush toys is the pinnacle of existence.

“you got this?” you ask, grinning at him as he lines up the claw with intense concentration.

“of course! my dad showed me,” he declares, like he’s about to go pro in the claw game league.

toji, watching from a distance, feels a twinge in his chest. 

yeah, he’d shown megumi how to play this game ages ago, more to give him an edge over the other kids than anything else. it was a dad-and-son thing, just the two of them. but seeing megumi look up at you with the same pride and excitement makes him feel… something. 

and he doesn’t know if he likes it.

you’re so focused on megumi’s moves that you don’t notice toji’s slight frown, nor do you hear his quiet mutter of, “this is ridiculous.” 

but when he sees the way your eyes light up as megumi successfully nabs a cheap stuffed animal — a lopsided dinosaur, of all things — and the way you celebrate like he’s won an olympic medal, he feels himself relax, just a little.

he chuckles, shaking his head and crossing his arms as you high-five megumi, both of you beaming over a prize that probably cost less than the game itself. but toji doesn’t move. 

he stands there, rooted, as you two bounce from game to game, his thoughts too jumbled to focus on anything else.

but maybe… maybe that’s okay for now.

toji’s phone buzzes just as he’s leaning against the side of a vintage racing game, watching you and megumi practically lighting up the whole arcade with your laughter. he glances down to see satoru’s name pop up on the screen, already feeling a headache brewing.

gojo s. [12:20 pm]: so, arcade? 😏 you [12:20 pm]: yeah, i just told you. gojo s. [12:20 pm]: nah, i mean WHY the arcade? what are we celebrating here, toji? ;)) you [12:21 pm]: why does it matter gojo s. [12:21 pm]: CUZZZZ gojo s. [12:21 pm]: lemme guess, megumi's there with her now, right?  gojo s. [12:22 pm]: bet they’re having the time of their lives, while YOU gojo s. [12:22 pm]: you’re just there all moody on the sidelines😔

toji glances up at you and megumi, who’ve now moved on to a skee-ball machine, both cheering as you score a perfect 50-point throw.

you [12:23 pm]: like i said, work stuff. gojo s. [12:24 pm]: HAHA. work stuff, right.  gojo s. [12:24 pm]: work stuff that has megumi running around grinning like that.  gojo s. [12:25 pm]: bro gojo s. [12:25 pm]: you’re terrible at lying.  gojo s. [12:26 pm]: she’s a keeper if she can deal with YOU you [12:26 pm]: keep dreaming.

he slips his phone back into his pocket, unable to shake off the grin creeping onto his face as he watches you high-five megumi. the kid’s happier than he’s seen in ages, and he…

well, he can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed watching anyone just being with his kid.

toji stands back, taking in the moment — megumi’s laughter echoing through the arcade, your smile as you lift him up with an ease that has the kid giggling uncontrollably — and for some reason, his mind has turned the whole scene into a rom-com montage.

you are the dancing queen…

it’s absurd, really. 

he doesn’t even like abba. but there it is, the stupid song playing in his head, all set to the image of you holding his son, twirling him like he weighs nothing, both of you in fits of laughter.

young and sweet, only seventeen…

and for a split second, his heart does this awkward little stutter. 

he chalks it up to the neon lights. 

or maybe the greasy smell of the arcade food messing with his senses. but as he watches you hold megumi up, almost as if he’s flying, he can’t ignore that ridiculous, cheesy pull in his chest.

feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah...

oh god. 

is he seriously catching himself grinning at the way you’re both trying to get him to join in? megumi’s little hand reaches out, beckoning him over, and you’re giving him that smile, that “come on, get over here, big guy” look.

you can dance, you can jive…

the song hits that soaring note in his head just as he finally gives in and starts to walk over, and his pulse actually picks up, as if he’s not just at some run-down arcade but in the middle of some ridiculously sappy rom-com finale.

having the time of your life…

and then megumi is shrieking again, calling, “dad, hurry up!” like it’s life or death, and you’re beaming at him with that mischievous, encouraging look.

toji sighs, shaking his head at himself. 

just great. 

the two of you have officially dragged him into your world, soundtrack and all.

toji's trying his best to lock in. 

but as he walks out of the arcade — juggling not one, but four oversized plushies, two fancy new lego sets, a slinky, a bouncy ball, some glow-in-the-dark slime, and a rainbow slap bracelet — he can’t help but snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it. 

between his loaded arms and megumi curled up fast asleep in yours, it’s a scene straight out of one of those cheesy family movies.

he shakes his head, trying to push down that weirdly warm feeling creeping up on him. 

stay focused, toji. 

he doesn't need any sappy feelings right now. he's a single dad with a kid and a job, not some washed-up rom-com character, damn it. 

but watching you gently adjust megumi as he drools onto your shoulder, snuggling deeper into the crook of your arm as you carefully slide into the backseat, it’s hard not to feel that tug again.

ugh, he thinks, climbing into the driver’s seat as you buckle up up front, giving him a soft, tired smile. 

“never held a kid before, huh?” he teases, eyes glancing from the road to the rearview mirror, where megumi’s still dozing, soft breaths muffling against your arm.

“nope,” you shrug, but there’s a softness to your voice as you gently rub megumi’s back, “first time for everything, i guess.”

toji’s heart does that weird skip thing again. 

oh god, he thinks, gripping the wheel a little tighter as he tries to ignore the sappy old man vibe overtaking him.

the air in the car feels... charged, but it’s not like either of you are exactly leaning into the tension. instead, you both sit in this weird, awkward silence, save for the quiet hum of the radio, like you’re suddenly too aware of just being there with each other.

and then, as if the universe wanted to toy with you, iris by the goo goo dolls starts playing. 

oh, god. you immediately wish you could just evaporate into the passenger seat.

“...and i’d give up forever to touch you…” the lyrics croon, filling the silence, and you can practically feel the heat crawling up your cheeks.

toji clears his throat, obviously catching it too. “radio’s on a roll, huh?”

“yep,” you say, managing a weak laugh. “i mean, this is classic… everyone listens to goo goo dolls in, uh, total silence in the car with their coworker, right?”

he glances at you, a rare, subtle smile ghosting on his lips. “totally normal.”

“and i don’t want the world to see me… ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

you glance out the window, eyes focused anywhere but on him, biting back a laugh at how the song somehow keeps getting more dramatic. like, who’s writing this scene, seriously?

“just tell me where to turn,” toji says, breaking through your internal monologue, and you do, mentioning a landmark close to home, hoping he’ll take the hint.

but toji only raises an eyebrow. “near it? nah. i’m dropping you at the door.”

“oh, no, that’s really fine —” you start, but he’s already shaking his head.

“don’t worry about it,” he insists, a smirk in his voice. “besides, i remember where you live. from, you know… last time.”

wait. last time? as in… when you were embarrassingly, unapologetically wasted that night?

you want to crawl under the seat as the lyrics continue, “when everything’s made to be broken…”

so when toji pulls up in front of your apartment, there’s this odd feeling hanging in the air. you catch yourself wanting to... linger, just a little longer, even if you’re home. 

and lowkey? 

so does toji. 

it’s like the two of you have hit this weird teenage crush level of awkward — just leaning, leaning, like there’s some invisible string pulling you closer.

he’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him, and you’re both just… stuck there. you can’t even bring yourself to reach for the door handle, and it’s the same for him.

but right as the moment peaks, a tiny, innocent voice cuts through from the backseat. “are you two going to kiss?”

megumi’s question hangs there, blunt and childlike, breaking whatever spell had you both frozen. you both jolt back, blinking as if you just woke up.

“what? no!” you blurt, practically tripping over your own denial. 

your face feels like it’s about to catch fire.

toji coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, just barely suppressing a chuckle.

“kid’s got a helluva imagination,” he mutters, eyes anywhere but on you.

as you finally reach for the door handle, ready to slip out and say your goodbyes, you hear a little sniffle from the backseat.

“wait…” megumi’s voice is tiny, almost shaky. you turn around, and to your surprise, his face is scrunched up, his eyes glistening with tears that he’s trying so hard to hold back.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, twisting around in your seat to face him. “i’ll see you again, kiddo.”

but his lower lip wobbles, and suddenly he bursts into full-on tears, clutching the giant plushie he won at the arcade. “b-but i don’t want you to leave!” he sobs, voice cracking. “can’t you stay just a little longer?”

toji’s eyes widen; he looks genuinely shocked. 

“megumi, you’re fine, she’s not going anywhere forever. what’s gotten into you?” he tries to keep his tone steady, but there’s an undercurrent of surprise. 

megumi doesn’t cry. 

ever. 

this is new territory.

megumi just shakes his head, burying his face into the plushie. “but she’s nice,” he mumbles, muffled but insistent. “and she plays games with me and —” he peeks out from the plushie with red, teary eyes. “and she talks to me like you do.”

you feel something stir in your chest at his words, this overwhelming urge to hug him even though you’d sworn up and down just an hour ago you didn’t know how to handle kids.

“aw, megumi,” you say softly, reaching over and giving his little hand a squeeze. “i’ll still see you, i promise. maybe we can even play again sometime, okay?”

“but you’re leaving now,” he says, his voice quivering, clutching your hand with a desperation that tugs at your heart. 

“and daddy didn’t even kiss you.”

the absolute silence that follows is deafening. 

you feel your face go redder than it’s ever been, and a glance at toji shows he’s equally flustered, mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find some way to steer this conversation back to normal.

“whoa, hey now,” toji says, forcing a laugh as he clears his throat. “that’s, uh — that’s not how it works, kid.” he ruffles megumi’s hair a little too hard, clearly floundering. “and hey, don’t go crying over someone just leaving for the night, you’re stronger than that.”

“i don’t care,” megumi sniffles, clutching your hand tighter. “i like her. and she makes you smile.”

toji freezes, the color draining from his face for just a split second. 

makes him smile. 

he doesn’t even realize he’s been smiling, maybe more in one day than he has in months. he glances at you, brow furrowed like he’s trying to make sense of it himself.

“well…” toji’s voice is softer now, almost cautious, like he’s testing out words he hasn’t said in a long time. “

maybe… maybe she could come around again. if she wants to, that is.”

“i do.” you answer without thinking, your gaze drifting to megumi’s tear-streaked face, which immediately lights up.

“really?” megumi’s eyes shine, practically bouncing in his seat. “you promise?”

“i promise,” you say with a smile, giving him a reassuring nod. “as long as it’s okay with you and your dad, of course.”

“’s fine,” toji grumbles, running a hand over his face to hide his slight grin. “besides, someone’s gotta teach you a lesson or two at the arcade next time.”

���is that a challenge, toji?” you quip, smirking. “because if i remember right, megumi here got more tickets than both of us combined.”

“that’s because i taught him everything he knows,” toji scoffs, rolling his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s even entertaining this.

megumi sniffles one last time, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “then… you’ll come over soon, right?”

“absolutely,” you say, warmth bubbling up in your chest as you meet his hopeful gaze. “but only if you promise to keep practicing at the arcade. gotta keep that winning streak going, right?”

megumi grins, finally letting go of your hand as he settles back with a contented sigh. “deal.”

toji just shakes his head, muttering something about the “drama” gene clearly skipping a generation, though the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.

as you unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to say goodbye, you feel the car click with the unmistakable sound of the child lock. you glance back at megumi, who’s nodding off against his plushie pile, and back at toji, who’s already climbing out to walk you up to your door. 

gentlemanly of him, sure. 

though, the way his eyes linger on you… there’s more to it than that.

“i could’ve walked myself, you know,” you say, falling into step beside him as you head up to your building. “it’s not that far.”

“maybe i just felt like making sure you didn’t trip and embarrass yourself,” he shoots back, smirking as he nudges your shoulder.

“very chivalrous, fushiguro,” you reply, rolling your eyes but grinning anyway. “honestly, you’re like a walking textbook definition of ‘gentleman.’”

“yeah, well,” he clears his throat, looking just a bit smug. “maybe i was raised right. or maybe,” his voice drops a little lower, “i just wanted an excuse to stick around a little longer.”

you blink, caught off guard by the soft rasp in his voice, the way his eyes are just a bit darker under the porch light.

“oh,” is all you manage, though your heartbeat’s doing a little somersault. “well… uh. here’s my door.”

“guess it is,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he takes a step closer, leaning against the doorframe like he’s meant to be there, like he’s settled in the idea of being right here, with you. 

“y’know… not a bad place to end the night.”

“yeah,” you say, feeling the words catch in your throat as you gaze up at him, taking in every detail, every shadow. “definitely not bad.”

the two of you are just standing there, a little too close, the space between you narrowing with every unspoken word. he glances down at your lips, and your pulse spikes — he’s thinking it too, right? but just as the moment seems to reach its tipping point, toji smirks, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

“you know,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “still can’t believe you’re the same girl who wrote that… what was it again?” he chuckles, clearly remembering. “oh, right — ‘her legs wrapped around him like a vice, his name spilling from her lips like honey’.”

your face goes nuclear. 

that line. 

of all the lines, that one?

“you… you remember that?” you manage, mortified.

“’course i remember,” he says, that smug smirk firmly in place. “you think i just skimmed through your stuff?”

“well — i — ” your words are a mess, barely coherent. “i mean, i just thought —”

“nah, i’ve been reading it all.” his voice is low, almost a whisper as he leans just a little closer, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “you’ve got quite the imagination.”

“s-shut up,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “i was just… doing my job.”

“i know,” he says, voice soft but unyielding. “you’ve got talent.”

there’s a beat, silence stretching between you, the weight of his words settling over the both of you.

“...and you’ve got this whole heartthrob thing going for you,” you blurt out, finally meeting his eyes with a nervous laugh. “kind of makes it hard to believe you’re my colleague.”

“heartthrob, huh?” he smirks, voice dipping lower as his fingers drift to your chin, tilting your face up. 

“so that’s what you think of me?”

“i — i mean…” you stammer, your heart racing as you look into his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. “maybe a little. just… a tiny bit.”

“tiny?” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch away. “could’ve sworn you looked a little more than just ‘tiny’ interested.”

“oh yeah?” your voice is a whisper now, almost breathless as you feel his breath on your skin, his gaze never wavering. “what if i was?”

“then i’d probably do this,” he mutters, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, and before you know it, his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly gentle.

your breath catches, and instinctively, you lean into him, letting his kiss deepen, his hand tracing slow, lazy patterns against your cheek. it’s everything you’d imagined and somehow even better, his presence grounding and electric all at once.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes soft but searching. “so… do i still get to be a heartthrob?”

“only if i still get to be the girl with the cringe smut,” you murmur back, grinning like an idiot.

“deal,” he says, chuckling as he pulls you in for another kiss, his lips brushing yours like a promise.

ah, shit.

as toji slips back into the car, he barely manages to close the door before megumi’s voice hits him like a lightning bolt.

“daddy kissed the pretty lady!” megumi shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger from the backseat. “i saw it! you have that weird face on!”

toji’s eyebrows shoot up. “weird face? what weird face?” he tries to play it cool, adjusting the rearview mirror, but the ghost of that kiss is still painted on his lips, his pulse betraying him with every beat.

“that smile,” megumi says, wrinkling his nose in a perfect mirror of his dad’s usual expression of disdain. “you look like a… like a…” he pauses, searching for the right words. “...like a love puppy!”

toji chokes, stifling a laugh. “a love puppy? where the hell did you get that from?”

“it’s a thing, daddy,” megumi huffs, crossing his arms. “you have that goofy look, and your face is all soft. you only look like that when you’re being weird.”

“me? weird?” toji glances in the mirror, catching megumi’s glare. “kid, i think you’ve got this all wrong.”

“no, i don’t!” megumi insists, practically bouncing in his seat. “you were all ‘goo-goo eyes’ and ‘smoochy-smoochy’ and ‘mwah mwah mwah!’” he makes exaggerated kissing sounds, complete with squished-up lips and hand gestures, utterly scandalized by his dad’s sudden transformation.

“alright, alright, enough with the ‘mwah mwah.’” toji tries to suppress a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’ve been watching too many cartoons.”

megumi shakes his head, his expression serious. “nope. i knew it. i knew you liked her.” he narrows his eyes, as if seeing through toji’s very soul. “so… are you gonna marry her?”

toji’s eyes go wide. 

“whoa, whoa, hold on. nobody said anything about marriage.”

“but if you kiss someone, that means you wanna be with them forever, right?” megumi asks earnestly, looking way too wise for his age.

toji stares ahead, caught off-guard by the kid’s earnestness. 

that kiss… he didn’t plan it. he didn’t even know he was going to do it until he’d leaned in, felt the spark pull him closer. but now? 

yeah, the idea of just walking away feels… wrong. he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his mind racing.

“kid, sometimes people just… feel things, okay?” he says, his voice softer, more introspective. “even if they don’t really know why.”

megumi tilts his head, watching his dad closely. “so you do like her, then?”

toji snorts, pulling the car out onto the road. “alright, detective, settle down back there. no more snooping.”

they drive in a comfortable silence for a moment, but the radio has other plans. 

as if on cue, the familiar, aching chords of iris by the goo goo dolls come through the speakers, and toji swears he could feel the universe laughing at him.

“and i don’t want the world to see me, ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”

toji clenches his jaw, feeling the lyrics press into him, each line stirring something restless and warm in his chest. he’s always been a guy with his walls up, always knew the stakes were too high to let anyone in. 

but tonight… tonight, he let his guard down. just for a second. 

he kissed you, tasted the softness of your lips, and the spark left him reeling.

“when everything’s meant to be broken, i just want you to know who i am…”

“daddy?” megumi’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “do you think… maybe you could see her again? so she could come play with us?”

toji blinks, glancing at megumi in the rearview mirror. “you really like her, huh?”

megumi nods vigorously. “yeah! she’s… nice. and fun.” his face softens. “and… she made you look happy.”

toji’s heart gives a strange, unfamiliar twist at that. 

happy, huh? 

he’s been around the block long enough to know that happiness isn’t exactly his best friend. but sitting here, listening to megumi, feeling that residual warmth from your kiss… it makes him wonder. 

wonder what life could look like with you in it.

but he pushes the thought away, focusing on the road. doesn’t change the fact that you’re just his colleague. right?

“and i’d give up forever to touch you…”

ugh.

he shifts uncomfortably, hoping megumi doesn’t notice his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. 

that kiss wasn’t just some fleeting thing — he’d known it the second he felt the warmth of you linger even after pulling away. the idea of letting you go now feels… impossible. something’s tugging him back, making him want more.

“hey, daddy,” megumi pipes up again, breaking toji’s brooding. “you got that look again.”

“what look?” toji mutters, trying to focus on anything but the goofy grin creeping back onto his face.

megumi smirks, mimicking toji’s soft expression. “that ‘i kissed a pretty lady’ look!”

toji laughs, shaking his head as he glances at megumi in the rearview mirror. “alright, alright. i guess you caught me.”

and as he drives home, the final notes of iris playing softly through the car, he can’t shake the feeling that this… whatever this is… isn’t something he’s ready to let go of.

ah, shit.

as soon as toji sets megumi down on his bed, tucking him in amongst the mountain of ridiculous plushies he’d somehow won at the arcade, he heads back to his room. sliding his phone out, he finds himself doing something he never thought he’d do: texting gojo. of all people.

with a reluctant sigh, he taps out a message, feeling a pang of embarrassment he can’t shake.

you [8:47 pm]: how long’s her contract with gojo sonic?

a moment later, he watches the screen, regretting even reaching out. but, of course, gojo wastes no time with a reply.

gojo s. [8:50 pm]: ohohohohooooo her contract???  gojo s. [8:50 pm]: i knew it. you’re smitten. you [8:51 pm]: don’t start. gojo s. [8:51 pm]: too late! c’mon, dish it out, big guy.  gojo s. [8:51 pm]: you guys had a moment, huh? the chemistry finally snapped? what’d ya do, kiss her?

toji clenches his jaw, hesitating before typing back. his thumb hovers, wondering how much grief he’d get for saying yes. finally, he mutters a curse under his breath and just goes for it.

you [8:53 pm]: ...yeah, i kissed her. happy?

he can practically feel gojo’s cackle vibrating through the phone.

gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WHAT???  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WAIT.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: oh, i need details.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: full play-by-play.  gojo s. [8:53 pm]: like was it one of those slow, cinematic moments?  gojo s. [8:54 pm]: or was it a grab and smooch kinda deal??

toji rolls his eyes, fighting off a grin he refuses to admit is there. of all the reactions, he’d been prepared for gojo’s nosiness, but it’s still as annoying as ever.

you [8:55 pm]: shut it. i already said too much. gojo s. [8:55 pm]: pfffff as if i’m letting you get away with that tidbit and no context.  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did she look at you all wide-eyed?  gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did you do that thing with your voice??  gojo s. [8:56 pm]: or was it just an accidental, “oh no, we tripped into each other’s faces” sorta thing?

toji rubs his temples, trying to block out how much his stupid heart rate picks up just remembering the way you looked up at him, the softness of your lips, the way it all felt so natural. he shakes his head, forcing the memory aside.

you [8:57 pm]: none of your business, and it’s private.  you [8:57 pm]: don’t you dare send any of this to suguru. gojo s. [8:57 pm]: oh relax! suguru’s not that nosy.  gojo s. [8:57 pm]: okay maybe he is.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: but he’s a romantic.  gojo s. [8:58 pm]: think of it as getting free relationship coaching!! you [9:00 pm]: i swear to god satoru i’ll leave the company if you spill this.

there’s a pause, and for a second toji hopes that maybe he’s scared gojo off. 

but, predictably, the next message makes his blood pressure spike.

gojo s. [9:05 pm]: ohhhhh no no you’re not getting off that easy.  gojo s. [9:05 pm]: i’m calling dibs on being the flower girl at your wedding. suguru can be the maid of honor.  gojo s. [9:06 pm]: no nvm he’d wanna be the best man gojo s. [9:06 pm]: I’LL GET MEGUMI TO CARRY THE RINGS gojo s. [9:06 pm]: genius.

toji practically growls at his phone, already regretting every second of this conversation.

you [9:07 pm]: i’ll delete this whole damn thread. this never happened, got it? gojo s. [9:09 pm]: aww, toji bear, don’t be like that. i’ll take care of your little love story for you, promise. consider me your personal wingman.  gojo s. [9:10 pm]: now tell me this — when’s round two of smooch central happening? you [9:11 pm]: goodnight, satoru.

and with that, he shoves his phone onto his nightstand, rubbing his face with a hand. he can still feel the lingering warmth of that kiss, the way his heart skipped, the unexpected tenderness that’s lodged itself in his mind. 

stupid.

he shouldn’t have even told gojo.

but as much as he regrets letting it slip, he doesn’t regret the kiss itself. 

not even a bit.

as soon as you slam your door shut, you just… stand there for a minute, heart racing, and press your fingers to your lips like it’ll somehow reverse what just happened. 

you kissed toji fushiguro. 

the toji fushiguro.

colleague extraordinaire, with biceps that could probably benchpress your entire life’s savings, and that smirk… oh god, that smirk that had you in a daze.

but the problem? 

there was a mini him there. 

a little him with matching black hair and a sharp gaze. 

you thought he was, like, the cool uncle? but… he’s a dad? 

and if he’s a dad… does that mean he’s married? are you the other woman?!

you pace around, practically stomping into the carpet. 

“okay, okay, let’s think this through,” you mutter, putting your hands on your hips. 

“he… he could be a single dad, right? it’s 2024, it’s not that weird for people to have kids without, like, commitment commitments. but then again, he does look like the type who’d… i don’t know, maybe be exclusive? probably?”

your brain is racing, and you’re spinning yourself into circles. 

“i mean, i haven’t seen a ring on his finger… but maybe he just doesn’t wear it?” you plop down on your couch, practically sinking into it as you cover your face with both hands.

ugh.

“did i just kiss a married man? or worse… what if he’s, like, engaged? or has a live-in girlfriend? or — oh my god, what if he’s in some high-profile relationship and i just stepped into the middle of it? —”

you groan, flopping back. “but he… he definitely leaned in first. i’m not hallucinating. he did! but then, if he’s that willing to kiss me, does that mean he’s… a cheater?”

you sit up and shake your head, wide-eyed. “okay, no, i refuse to believe that toji fushiguro, mr. brooding and brooding-er with a kid who listens to korn, is a cheater. there’s no way… right?”

your own voice is almost pleading as you try to convince yourself, pacing again. 

“i mean, maybe he’s just… really, really committed to… being mysterious. yeah, that makes sense. he’s keeping everything a secret, so that just leaves me spiraling about him… perfect. just perfect.”

you smack a hand against your forehead. “why couldn’t i have asked literally any of this earlier?” you shake your head. “right, because i was too busy kissing him.”

you throw yourself back onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, the whole thing replaying in your head. 

that look he gave you, the warmth of his hand on your back…

stop.

but it’s too late. your brain keeps running with it.

“what if… what if he has no idea i’m freaking out?” you frown. “oh, he probably doesn’t. and here i am, making a whole drama out of one kiss.” you let out a deep sigh.

you flop onto your bed, heart still pounding, and stare up at the ceiling, fingers absently grazing your lips. 

burning loins, they said. melting from one kiss, they said. 

well, no one exactly said that — except every steamy novel you’ve ever read or written, but that’s beside the point.

you groan, kicking your feet up in frustration. this isn’t one of your own novels! it’s supposed to be real life! but now here you are, in the aftermath of what was arguably the best kiss you’ve ever had, practically combusting at the memory of it.

“if one kiss with toji — no, any man — can get me this hot and bothered, how am i supposed to handle it if i ever… you know…” your voice trails off, and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow as if it’ll smother the absurd train of thought. 

but then, just as you start to get your mind off it, his face pops back up in your head.

“oh god,” you mumble, pulling the pillow over your face. “this is pathetic.” you roll over again, laughing helplessly to yourself. 

if this is what one or two kisses do to me… what’ll happen if we actually have sex?

your eyes snap open. “okay, no. no! i didn’t mean toji, i meant, like… any guy! any guy at all! but, oh god, why is it always him?!”

you stare at the ceiling, huffing as your brain keeps looping back to him. 

his stupidly attractive smirk, the way his hand was firm but gentle on your back, how he looked at you as if you were his next breath. 

girl, get a grip.

“this is ridiculous,” you mutter, swatting at your face like it’ll erase his image from your mind. but it doesn’t work; he’s right there, all hot and smug in your imagination. ugh, this isn’t fair!

it’s like all those countless hours you spent spinning erotic fantasies are coming back to haunt you — and in the most inconvenient, infuriating way possible. you scrunch up your face, realizing with mild horror that maybe… just maybe… you wrote this scenario into existence for yourself.

“oh no… is this karma?” you groan, curling up and swatting the air in helpless embarrassment. “girl, this is not supposed to happen in real life. or with toji.”

but there it is: his face, and your wildly racing heart, and the undeniable, excruciating heat pooling in your belly that refuses to quit.

but even with the spiraling, there’s one thing you can’t deny: as much as it’s driving you crazy, as much as you’re practically scaring yourself into thinking you’ve just made the worst mistake of your life…

you kinda don’t regret it. and that’s the scariest part.

ah, shit.

you step into gojo-sonic, clutching your bag with a little more intensity than usual, and it’s as if you’ve entered an alternate dimension. 

the energy is somehow… different. you expect to be greeted with the usual casual nods and waves, but instead, gojo is practically skipping toward you, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming the new queen of the recording studio.

“there she is! our star of the show, our resident heart-throb wrangler!” he coos, louder than necessary. his grin is blinding, and you’re caught between the urge to backpedal out of the building or dive under the nearest desk.

“uh… good morning?” you reply, more like a question than a statement, glancing around to see if anyone else is picking up on his hyperness. it’s like he’s had twelve cups of coffee or ten bags of skittles. “gojo, you’re… kind of extra today.”

“extra? extra?” he throws a hand over his heart, eyes gleaming. “honey, i’m never just ‘extra.’ i am exactly the right amount of gojo for the occasion.”

“and what occasion is that, exactly?”

“oh, nothing much, just a certain someone having an… enlightening encounter last night,” he says with a wink so exaggerated it looks like he’s trying to shoo a bug off his face.

you stiffen. “wait, how do you…?”

“oh, come on,” he waves it off, laughing. “you think you can keep something like that from me? i mean, i might be blessed with an enormous amount of talent, looks, and charisma, but i also happen to have eyes and ears everywhere.” he taps his temple, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“seriously?” you glance around, your stomach sinking a little, looking for any sign of smirking coworkers or curious eyes, but everyone’s just… normal? going about their business, not sparing you a second glance. relief washes over you, only to be swept away by gojo’s piercing stare.

“oh, don’t worry. i haven’t shared your scandalous rendezvous with the world. only i am privy to this delightful information — for now,” he adds, wagging a finger. “and don’t look so shocked! nothing juicy stays hidden from me for long. i know all the company secrets.”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks, equal parts exasperated and embarrassed. “gojo, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. it’s not like…” you trail off, realizing he’s hanging on to your every word, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“uh-huh,” he drawls, drawing the word out. “not a big deal, you say? then why do you look like you’re about to start sweating bullets?”

“i’m not sweating bullets,” you say through clenched teeth, then give in and sigh. “look, we just… it was just a… i mean, we’re colleagues, and things got a little… friendly. it doesn’t have to mean anything!”

gojo gasps, mock-horrified. “oh, but darling, this is precisely why it’s so interesting! you, of all people, getting caught up with toji fushiguro? and here i thought you’d sworn off office romances.”

“it’s not an office romance,” you insist, voice practically a whisper. “we just… kissed. once. or twice. maybe. but it doesn’t mean anything!”

gojo leans in, conspiratorially. “and yet you look ready to combust from the inside out just talking about it.”

you huff, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “maybe it’s because someone is making this into a bigger deal than it actually is.”

“you wound me!” he presses a hand dramatically to his chest, giving you an exaggerated pout. “but don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me. i only told you so you’d know that i know. and, you know, to make things extra awkward in case mr. heart-throb walks in.”

“oh, so you’re really just out to make my life difficult?”

he grins, all teeth. “precisely.”

just then, as if summoned by some cruel twist of fate, toji strolls in. he’s the absolute picture of normalcy, no hint whatsoever of last night’s… moment. 

in fact, he gives you a polite nod, a polite nod, as if he hadn’t had you pressed against your own door just hours ago.

“morning,” he says casually, voice smooth, tone nonchalant. he doesn’t even so much as smirk.

you nearly choke. polite nod? normal greeting? did he forget the entire thing? 

“oh, morning,” you manage, clearing your throat, feeling like you’re about to combust again.

gojo, however, is having the time of his life. he’s practically vibrating next to you, watching the exchange with glee.

“morninggg, fushiguro,” he greets toji, voice syrupy with unrestrained glee. “any exciting news today?”

toji raises an eyebrow, shooting him a confused look. “uh, no? everything’s pretty normal.” his eyes flick over to you, calm, almost neutral, as if he hadn’t kissed you senseless just last night.

you clench your jaw. is he really going to act like this? you nearly feel like gaslighting yourself into thinking last night never happened. maybe you just dreamed it, right?

toji’s gaze flicks away from you, unperturbed, as he moves over to get his things ready for the day’s recording. and that’s when gojo leans over and mutters under his breath, “you sure you don’t want to just… remind him?”

“i hate you,” you mutter back, trying not to smile, knowing that he’s secretly rooting for you to fall flat on your face with this whole ordeal.

“i live for your misery, my friend,” he replies with a wink.

meanwhile, toji was absolutely in another dimension of romcom chaos himself, feeling like some kind of high school kid who just had his first crush. he woke up grinning, actually giggling as he got dressed. 

giggling. when was the last time he did that? 

he nearly skipped out the door, and on his drive to work, he found himself humming, humming, to his car stereo like some lovestruck fool. and he didn’t stop there. oh no. 

by the time he reached gojo-sonic, he’d already run through a few extra vocal warm-ups in the car — something he never did this early. he cleared his throat and ran through his usual lines twice, even testing his pitch a bit. no, not because he wanted to be extra smooth today, of course not. he was doing it for the… for the paycheck. 

definitely.

but as soon as he walked into the studio, and he saw you standing there beside gojo, looking all kinds of pretty and polished… he practically heard violins. except no, it wasn’t violins. 

it was, somehow, worse.

his mind cued up dancing queen.

“no. nope. nope.” he muttered under his breath, trying to swat the ridiculous soundtrack out of his mind. but it wouldn’t stop. 

“dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine, oh, yeah….”

why, in the name of all things sacred, was his brain doing this to him? he was toji fushiguro, not some idiot falling over his own feet for a girl at work. he gave himself a good shake, squared his shoulders, and tried to keep his composure. yet every time he caught your eye, his chest did a little flip — and dammit if he didn’t want to just pick you up and give you another kiss right then and there.

“morning,” he forced out, nodding as casually as he could.

and there you were, gaping back with that hint of nervousness, looking like you might combust from just a regular “good morning.” 

god, it was almost cute enough to make him actually laugh out loud.

“she’s just a colleague,” he reminded himself, over and over again, as he worked to keep the grin off his face. “a colleague. not some romcom lead you just made out with in front of her apartment.”

yet the way dancing queen kept droning in his head, as if mocking his every move? toji was seriously questioning whether he’d woken up in some kind of alternate reality.

and he just knew gojo was watching the whole thing with a smug look, likely dying to crack a joke, or worse, belt out dancing queen if he somehow figured out what was in toji’s head. 

and knowing gojo? he probably already had.

the studio door clicked shut as gojo swept out with an exaggerated bow, holding up his finger in a silent “one minute” before he launched into his call with suguru in a voice loud enough to be heard two floors down. gojo was probably already going on about the “incredible chemistry” between his favorite team members, or whatever nonsense he’d decided on for today. 

and with him out of the room, it was just you and toji. 

alone. 

in silence.

you shifted on your feet, eyes darting everywhere except directly at him, yet somehow landing right back on him. it was like your brain had a toji magnet switched on, and no matter how hard you tried to look elsewhere, you found yourself glancing back at him.

finally, the quiet got so charged that you both ended up blurting out at the exact same time —

“are you single?”

you both froze, then looked at each other, wide-eyed, like you couldn’t believe you’d just asked that out loud.

“uh,” toji coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “well. yeah, i am. single, that is.

“oh.” you tried to act cool, but it came out as a slightly breathless squeak. “good to know.”

“and you?” he asked, voice low, almost cautious, as if bracing himself for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

“also single,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. “which… is also good to know.”

there was a beat of quiet where you both just kind of looked at each other, a half-smile creeping onto his face as you kept shifting on your feet, practically melting under the intensity of his gaze.

“so…” you cleared your throat, your hands fidgeting a little as you gathered the nerve to ask the next thing. “didn’t know you had a kid.”

“oh, yeah.” toji chuckled, a hint of fondness lighting up his expression as he thought of his son. “he’s my kid, alright. handful and a half, that one.”

“he’s adorable.” you smiled, thinking back to the mini toji who had totally stolen your heart. “how old is he?”

“eight.” toji’s voice softened, a rare warmth in his tone that you’d never heard before. “he, uh… he means a lot to me. not that i’d ever tell him that, though. don’t want him thinking he’s got me wrapped around his little finger or anything.”

you laughed, picturing the little boy with his big grin and fearless energy. “something tells me he already knows.”

“yeah, probably.” toji laughed too, and for a moment, there was an ease between you, a shared warmth that made the whole moment feel so… natural.

“so… um, are you, like… a single dad?” you asked, careful with your words, not wanting to pry too deeply.

“yeah.” his answer was simple, but there was a weight to it. “just me and the kid. been that way for a while.”

“that’s…” you bit your lip, not sure what to say without sounding weirdly sentimental. “that’s admirable. megumi’s lucky to have you.

“i don’t know about all that,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise but unable to hide a small smile. “just doing what i can, you know?”

“still,” you said, feeling a swell of admiration you hadn’t expected. “it’s impressive. and honestly… seeing you with him yesterday? it was… kinda heartwarming.”

toji looked at you, eyes softening in a way that made your heart stutter. 

“thanks,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “means a lot, hearing that.”

the two of you stood there, closer than you realized, in this weird bubble where everything felt warm and intense and perfect. just as you felt that strange magnetic pull drawing you closer, like maybe you’d just close the gap and —

the studio door banged open.

“don’t stop on my account!” gojo sing-songed, practically sashaying back into the room, a smirk plastered across his face.

you both leaped back, clearing your throats and suddenly finding the walls, the floor, anything else in the room utterly fascinating.

“alright, lovebirds, let’s get this recording started, shall we?” gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked between the two of you, not even pretending he hadn’t just caught a whole moment.

toji settled into the recording booth, leaning back in the chair with the script in hand, his voice dipping to that low, gravelly tone that made every line sound like an invitation.

“so,” he began, speaking as the dragon king to the main character in the script, his words practically dripping with intensity, “you think you can resist me? i see right through you… even the bravest warriors have trembled at my touch.”

your breath caught as he delivered the line, eyes wide as you watched him through the glass. 

you couldn’t help it — his character was practically staring into your soul, voice thick and slow, practically wrapping around each word.

“do you know what happens to those who challenge me?” toji continued, his eyes narrowing as he held the script in one hand, his gaze piercing. “they are forced to surrender… one way or another.”

outside the booth, you practically felt yourself melting, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you fidgeted with the edge of your shirt. 

toji’s voice, his delivery — it was all too much. how was it possible for him to sound that… that intense? it was like he was actually speaking to you.

“ah, beautiful.” gojo, standing beside you, broke in with a theatrical sigh. “our dragon king sounds magnificent, doesn’t he? i could practically faint!”

you shot him a quick glare, barely masking a smirk. “keep it down, gojo. he’s in the middle of it.”

“oh, i’m just here to appreciate the artistry,” gojo whispered back, feigning innocence as he leaned in to watch, hands clasped together dramatically.

“the choice is yours,” toji went on, his voice softer now, laced with something tender that made it impossible to look away. “join me… or keep pretending this —” he emphasized the word, letting it linger “ — isn’t exactly what you’ve been wanting.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the glass. 

was he delivering that line as the dragon king or as… well, toji?

but then —

“ohhhh!” gojo chimed in loudly, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck by an arrow. “the passion! the romance! our hero’s heart is pounding!”

toji paused, rolling his eyes as he looked at gojo through the glass. “you really gonna keep interrupting, gojo?”

“oh, don’t mind me,” gojo said, waving a hand. “i’m simply enjoying the magic in the air! please, carry on. do go on.” he pretended to dab at his eyes. “so moving.”

toji gave a small sigh but threw you a barely-there smile before settling back into character.

“and when you finally stop running…” his voice softened, a quiet urgency threading through it. 

“i’ll be here, waiting… because you belong to me, whether you admit it or not.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself leaning in, hanging onto every word, caught up in the sheer pull of his voice. 

you didn’t know if it was his talent as a voice actor, the lines he was reading, or him, but every word was drawing you in deeper, bit by bit.

“ah, what is it like to be so passionately claimed by a dragon king? how riveting!” gojo murmured dramatically, as if providing a play-by-play to an audience. “she’s helpless, entranced! they both know she’s falling!”

toji cast a pointed look at gojo, barely concealing a smirk. “you done yet, gojo?”

gojo merely grinned, shrugging. “hey, i’m just here to make sure the romance shines through. and oh, don’t worry — it’s definitely shining.”

toji rolled his eyes but kept going, lowering his voice to a rumbling murmur. “if you don’t know where your heart lies, then i’ll show you.” 

he paused, his words lingering in the air like a promise, like he was speaking directly to you.

by now, the studio felt suffused with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. it didn’t help that every time gojo piped in with another comment, it only made you feel more painfully aware of every detail: the way toji’s gaze kept flickering your way, the way your own pulse raced faster with each line he spoke.

“the truth is right in front of you,” toji continued, his voice dropping low, rough, something smoldering behind each word. “all you have to do is reach out… and claim it.”

“gorgeous! breathtaking!” gojo burst out, clapping his hands loudly. “i can practically see the sparks flying! ah, young love!”

toji finally broke character, raising a brow at gojo with a look of pure exasperation. “you gonna let me finish or not?”

gojo waved a hand. “fine, fine. but for real — if you two don’t kiss after this, i might have to stage a re-shoot.”

both you and toji threw your hands up simultaneously, voices raised in exasperation. 

“gojo, would you please stop interrupting!”

“yeah, seriously, man,” toji added, shaking his head as he glanced over at you with a shared look of pure frustration.

“okay, okay! sheesh!” gojo shrieked, actually shrieked, as he staggered back in mock terror, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “all i wanted was to witness some workplace romance! is that so wrong?”

“yes, gojo, very wrong,” you shot back, rubbing your temples. “this is literally supposed to be professional — you should know that.”

toji snorted, crossing his arms as he smirked at gojo. “for once, i agree. you’ve got all the dramatic flair of a middle-schooler.”

“excuse me,” gojo replied, flipping an imaginary hair strand over his shoulder. “i’ll have you know my artistic eye is very advanced.” he let out a huff, but from the grin on his face, you could tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

you shook your head, exasperated. “look, can we just get this recording done without any more —”

“interruptions,” toji finished for you, raising a brow as he glanced over at gojo.

“fine, fine!” gojo finally backed off, dramatically sliding into a chair in the corner, arms folded in mock offense. “i’ll be silent as a stone. a beautiful, thoughtful stone.”

you exchanged another look with toji, both of you sighing in unison. 

something told you both that it was going to be a very long day, especially with gojo’s creative direction…

toji, after finishing a solid block of recording, had ended up chatting with the sound techs, leaving you flipping through your phone while you waited. 

gojo, in his usual meddling fashion, suddenly brightened up and declared, “oh! why don’t you have a little chat with suguru? i told him you were here. he insisted on saying hello!”

you raised an eyebrow. “uh, sure?”

gojo sent you a link to join the video call, and soon suguru’s face popped up on the screen. his calm expression softened slightly when he saw you. “well, hello there. gojo wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had a new ‘star’ at the studio.”

you laughed, feeling a bit flustered. “thanks, geto! i hear you’re a partner at a... famous wine company?”

suguru gave a modest shrug. “yeah, it’s called persephone. it’s a small project that grew bigger than i expected. i handle a lot of the sourcing and marketing — keeps me away from here most of the time.”

“persephone? i’ve heard great things about it!” you said, genuinely impressed. “the way gojo talks about it, it sounds like a pretty big deal.”

he chuckled, glancing to the side as if recalling memories. “i started it with a... friend, actually. she was passionate about wine and had a vision that i couldn’t help but support. i guess i have a soft spot for her, and i... well, care about her a lot.”

you felt your heart warm a little at his sincerity, and the slight hesitation when he spoke of his partner. “it sounds like you two have something special going on,” you said, offering a supportive smile. “i’m sure she appreciates everything you do, especially with how involved you are. and honestly? best of luck. that kind of partnership sounds really meaningful.”

suguru gave a small nod, a faint, appreciative smile on his face. 

“thank you. i think she’d like you. maybe one day, if you ever make it out here for one of gojo’s wild wine-tasting parties, we can all meet up.”

“i’d love that!” you replied, already imagining how intriguing that partnership might be. and as you finished up the conversation, it struck you that you’d gotten a glimpse of a different side of suguru — one he clearly didn’t reveal often.

toji hadn’t meant to get distracted, but the second he saw you on a video call with suguru, laughing over whatever he was saying, he couldn’t help it. he’d been halfway listening to the sound tech drone on about waveform patterns, but all of that faded when he caught sight of you smiling on-screen. 

who exactly were you talking to like that? why did you look so happy?

the tech was still talking beside him, but toji’s focus was elsewhere. 

suguru. 

that damn calm, collected face of his. 

the same suguru who he’d seen only sparingly around the company, mostly through gojo’s random updates, but who was still one of the few people gojo actually respected.

toji squinted, his jaw tightening as he took a few steps toward you and pretended it was a casual stroll.

why was he doing this? it wasn’t like he had any claim on you, right? 

sure, there was that one kiss — or, well, those two kisses, actually. 

but still. 

he was a grown man, not some jealous kid. yet here he was, feeling like he had to size up suguru over a damn screen.

before he even realized it, toji had closed the distance. without asking, he leaned over your shoulder, practically shoving his face into the camera view as he met suguru’s face.

“hey, suguru,” he drawled, and the way his voice came out a little gruff didn’t escape him. “didn’t know you were interrupting a busy studio day here.”

you blinked, wide-eyed at his sudden closeness, but toji kept his eyes on suguru, ignoring your flustered reaction. suguru looked almost amused, raising an eyebrow at toji’s unannounced intrusion.

“toji. i’m just saying hi to the new talent here,” suguru replied with a smooth smile, clearly unfazed. “i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me meeting one of satoru’s top finds.”

“top find?” toji scoffed, feeling a weird pang at the words. “i’m the one doing all the work here.”

you shot him a look, somewhere between surprised and amused. “toji —”

but he just grunted and kept going, ignoring your attempt to intervene. “so, suguru, been busy with all that wine business, huh?” he went on, as if suguru’s whole life story had suddenly become his priority.

“pretty much,” suguru replied, a slight smirk in his tone. “it’s been keeping me busy, and i have a…close partner who keeps me grounded. speaking of which,” he turned his gaze to you with an amused smile, “she was the one who started persephone. i’m really just there to support her vision.”

“sounds convenient,” toji muttered, but suguru just chuckled.

you nudged him with your elbow, giving him a warning look. “toji, come on,” you whispered, as if he was the one being out of line here.

he let out a low sigh, then pulled back slightly, looking at you as if he’d just remembered himself. “what? ’m just makin’ sure you’re not getting dragged into any fancy wine scams or whatever.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. “geto’s company is doing fine, toji. it’s called persephone.”

toji folded his arms and gave a dismissive shrug. “well, just saying. i know people.” 

the whole room seemed to go a bit quieter, and toji cleared his throat, looking away from suguru's patient amusement.

“nice meeting you, toji,” suguru added, with a slight tilt of his head. “take care of our new ‘top find’ there, alright?”

toji clenched his jaw a little at the words, then nodded, pretending he wasn’t glaring at the camera. “yeah, yeah. we’re all set here.”

as the call ended, you turned to him, eyebrows raised, clearly wanting an explanation. “what was that about?”

toji scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual. “just, y’know…making sure you weren’t getting yourself in with shady people.”

“oh? like, you?”

he let out a bark of laughter, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner. “hey, i’m not shady — i’m just thorough.”

you raised an eyebrow. “thorough? right, that’s the word you’re going with?”

“yeah. and what — you mad at me for caring?”

at that, you went quiet, a faint blush touching your cheeks. 

and toji? well, he could only think of those two kisses again, and how stupidly close he’d just gotten to the camera just to… what? size up suguru? 

he mentally groaned. what was wrong with him?

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[inkoutsidethelines]

Ah, I see. You and I have different ideas of what counts as canon, so we're never really going to agree on this topic. I consider canon whatever George Lucas said was canon - which means that Legends, later additions by Disney, and the opinions of some psychologists are all irrelevant to me.

Since we have such differing views of what's canon, I'll (try to) keep my response short, and then I'm going to let this go. No need for us to talk in circles.

This is patently false. His admission into the order was debated by the full council in front of him. That is extremely irregular.

Okay, yeah, that's on me for not being clear enough. I almost added the caveat that his admission to the Order at all was exceptional, but decided not to. That's on me, because you're right, allowing him to join at nine was treating him differently.

That being said, I still don't think he was treated all that different once he was in the Order. What we are shown of padawan training in The Clone Wars lines up with what we are shown (which is admittedly a small amount) of Anakin's training with Obi-Wan.

Well they certainly could have handled it better than they did! Maybe it wasn't their fault but it was their responsibility to help him learn to properly cope.

I would argue that the Jedi did teach Anakin how to cope. He understands their lessons about attachment and letting go; we know he does, because he passes those lessons on to Ahsoka during Clone Wars. He knows what they teach, but he doesn't put it into practice.

because the Jedi teach that once you fall theirs no going back, which is provably false but Anakin didn't know that.

That is not a Jedi teaching. Not in the movies, or in the Clone Wars. Maybe there's some other source that says they taught that, but if so, we once again run into the problem of differing canons.

But he also wasn't in his right mind.

I'm not really going to dig into this one, because I simply disagree with the idea of Anakin having BPD being canon, so we aren't going to get anywhere on that.

His mental health was their responsibility and they didn't just drop the ball, they threw it.

And here we are also going to disagree. Yes, the Jedi are responsible for his mental health while he's a child. And they gave him the tools to get well. They were being undermined at every step by Palpatine, but the Jedi didn't know that, and they can't be held responsible for what they didn't know.

And at some point, Anakin becomes fully responsible for his own mental health, and his own choices. If he had every really asked for help, I think he would have gotten it. But he repeatedly doesn't ask for help.

He tells Obi-Wan he's dreaming of his mother, but not that he's dreaming about her being tortured to death. The advice Obi-Wan gives him makes sense with what Obi-Wan knows.

Anakin doesn't tell anyone - except Padme, who brushes it under the rug for him - that he massacred a tribe of Tuskan Raiders. Man, woman, and child.

He tells Yoda he's worried about the death of someone he cares about, won't tell Yoda who, and they're in the middle of a war. Given what Yoda knows, the advice he gives Anakin makes sense. And also Yoda wasn't wrong. I mean, maybe she would have died some other way if Anakin hadn't fallen, who knows. But Anakin choosing to go Dark Side directly lead to her dying exactly the way he saw in his vision (whether or not her cause of death was specifically Palpatine siphoning off her life force to save Anakin).

The Jedi do the best they can with what they know, but they simply don't know everything the audience does. That's not a flaw in the Jedi. And at the end of the day, I believe the only person responsible for Anakin's choices is Anakin himself.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

[fastboatsmojito]

tell me more about the sweet things Frank does pleeaassseee

ugh he’s suuuuch a sweetheart for someone who has every right to be a complete asshole to everyone <///3

Notes; hi guys I have so much other shit to write it’s actually laughable but this is what ur getting for now mostly because im unable to think about anyone else atm #sorry, enjoy!

he’s pretty old fashioned when it comes to most things; leaning his head back to look at you like you’re insane if you try to pay for anything, long legs striding right past you to open doors, a guiding hand on your waist when you’re walking together so you can keep up with him, etc. he’ll be damned if you ever do anything you don’t have to, always insistent on lending a large helping hand whenever you need one.

“Why don’t you just let me help you, huh? Always gotta have an attitude about it.” he made it sound so simple, like the act of him helping you clasp your necklace shouldn’t have you swooning like this, reeling in the rough callouses of his fingers against the back of your neck. of course he wasn’t really upset, shaking his head at your insistent remarks about being able to do it yourself. you could always tell when he was pushing you to accept the love he so thoughtfully handed to you, understanding when you needed a harsher tone or a soothing hand.

that’s just who he is; priding himself in keeping you safe and in the meantime securing every understanding he had of you in his mind, every fear, every goal, the things you’d dream about often enough to bring it up the next morning, he knew you and he knew what you needed, half the time before you knew it yourself. because that’s just who he is. that’s his job — at least that’s what he keeps telling you.

“I don’t have an attitude, but you don’t have to take care of me all the time, Frank. I can-“

“You can take care of yourself. Yeah yeah I know sweetheart, you’re real tough. I know it.” it was hard to look it right now, letting his arms squeeze around you, standing firm in your words as you melted into the strong shape of him behind you.

there were a million examples, and no matter how hard you tried to convince him, he’d do it again and again. coming back home after a rough day and cleaning himself up before picking you up from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch to take you to bed. ignoring the ache in his bones, hushing you with a kiss on your crown, and tucking you under the soft blankets ‘right where you belong’ because that’s just who Frank Castle is.

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!nanami halloween edition

batman & catwoman

nerd!nanami who helps you into your costume. it was supposed to be a surprise but there was so much tight latex you had no choice but to ask him for help. gojo had invited you to his annual halloween party in his penthouse and nanami reluctantly accepted the invitation.

“honey.. are you sure this thing is made for.. humans? it looks like a medieval torture method,” nanami grunts as he pulls the latex up your legs, “are you in any pain—shit! are you in any pain, dear?”

“no, no, kenny! just get it on my arms and we’re all done!”

“i might have to oil you up, dear..” he chuckles wholeheartedly before he pauses, realizing his innuendo.

“… okay ken,” you giggle, slapping his arm.

nerd!nanami who finally gets the whole costume on you after another hour while his batman costume only took a max of five minutes to pull on.

“i think i look silly, dear,” he runs his hands over his hair before putting on the black mask, his face dwarfing the spirit halloween accessory. he was just ginormous in all ways.

“you don’t look silly! i think you look very handsome,” you smile, rubbing a hand over his biceps under the black shirt. he refused to wear anything too silly, opting for a black batman shirt and black sweats along with the mask.

you two stood before your bathroom mirror as you giggle excitedly at the sight. you whipped out your phone, taking what seemed like a thousand photos of him before you two left for gojo’s halloween party.

nerd!nanami who tries his hardest to hide his boner at the party. he was a reasonable man, of course he let you go have fun and party with your friends. but that didn’t stop him from keeping a possessive eye on you.

he couldn’t believe it. his girlfriend. his catwoman. he used to pray for a day like this to come. he had to pinch himself to realize it wasn’t a dream and that you were indeed real, a goddess in his eyes.

nerd!nanami who doesn’t last for another thirty minutes seeing you in that costume, pulling you to a guest bedroom in gojo’s penthouse where you two usually stayed if you crashed there.

you gasped as he pressed you down against the bed.

“hold on, kenny i’ll just—“

you try to take off the panted pants yourself until your hear a loud stretch and a rubbery rip. you shriek, eyes widen as you look back and he’s got the spandex in two pieces, baring your thighs and pussy to him.

“please, honey.. i need you now,” nanami groaned, pushing his hand along your back to guide you back onto your stomach.

gojo’s sheets were always cotton, thank god. they’d be easy to wash after this.

nerd!nanami who has your head pushed into the pillows as he plows your pussy from the back, spanking your ass to watch them move like water.

“fffuck, baby.. you feel so good”

nanami groaned as he leaned forward, angling deeper inside you as his cock reached what seemed like you stomach.

“kennnn.. so big!”

“shh, shh i know, i know, baby, just take it,” he grunted as he felt you clench at his words, reaching down to rub your clit as he watched you drool onto the pillow.

“i-im gonna—ah! i’m gonna!”

“you’re gonna what, honey? use your words”

“i’m gonna cum, kennnn”

he was never the one to tease you or enjoy watching you like this, but something inside him snapped when he watched you stumble over your words, whining to try to find your sense of mind when you went dumb on his cock.

“cum for me, baby, c’mon, i know you”

“fffuck! ken!”

your pussy held his cock like a vice and shit, thank god he wasn’t batman cause he would never be saving the world since he has you waiting at home.

he shot thick, creamy ropes of cum deep into your pussy, warmth filling you up as you sighed contently. he pulled out, admiring you for a minute, watching as his cum spilled out. he was about to get up to clean you until he saw you subtly wiggle your hips, the sight of your plump ass, your ruined pussy, your legs only half covered in spandex, fuck it only made him hard again.

he leaned in, spreading you open, watching your gaping, twitching holes before licking a stripe over them as you shivered

“honey, how about i clean you up, hm?”

[helioooss]

fable

synopsis: minji and y/n are both from a conservative town - and end up falling for each other. days are spent sneaking around…longing for someplace they can be themselves.

w/c: 5k+

warning: homophobia, death, mostly internalised, swearing, drinking, kissing, having to hide who you really love sucks. just angst

a/n: okay, this is important. as per recent events, and the sole reason why i’m publishing this now: i will not be continuing this story as it just feels like a fever dream to write about women loving other women - specifically (and surprisingly) in a country like america, where this is set. as of right now, there will be no part two.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

rhodes was a quiet country town, one where the land stretched out wide and the houses were all spaced apart, each standing tall with big porches and rocking chairs that creaked with the passing winds.

folks around here lived simply; big families, old traditions, and everyone knowing each other’s business, even when you’d rather they didn’t. the only real landmarks were the towering silos, murphy’s diner and the stretch of farmland that seemed endless.

most of your afternoons were spent in your pa’s garage, under the hood of a truck or fixing up your old dirt bike. you had an affinity for engines, grease-streaked hands and the rhythm of mechanical work that required no words, just understanding. keeping to yourself mostly, you were content with the company of horses, the comfort of solitude and the occasional bonfire with your old man.

it was just him and you, after all.

then there was minji. she was as close to royalty as you’d get around here. your family lived in a modest house with a big porch that overlooked acres of field. across from you was her family estate — a sprawling place with manicured gardens, stables, and a wrap-around porch that seemed to stretch out as far as the eye could see. their cars were sleek and pristine (except for the old bastard her dad loved driving around), it was the kind of place people would point out as if it were a tourist attraction.

more than that, she had a charm that seemed to light up every room she walked into.

since you could remember, the two of you always walked to school together even though you didn’t really know her. it was a quiet, unspoken arrangement that had developed over the years, when parents told you to look out for each other.

conversations were rare; she was usually scrolling through her phone or listening to music through one earbud while you kept your gaze on the gravel road, hands in your pockets. you never questioned it and she never acknowledged it, but somehow, every morning, she’d be waiting at the end of her driveway and the two of you would fall into step.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the first time you really looked at minji was a fall morning in junior year and she was standing under the maple tree at the end of her driveway — her hair catching the early light, eyes focused on some distant point beyond the fields.

she looked so serene, so out of place in the rough simplicity of rhodes and you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was something special; someone you wanted to know, even if you never could.

but people like her weren’t meant for people like you — so you kept your head down and fell into step beside her as usual.

and you were okay with that.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

until one day, she surprised you by initiating a conversation as you walked down the familiar road to school.

“you know, you’re kinda mysterious,” she said, her voice teasing but curious. “you don’t ever talk, even at school.”

you looked at her, caught off guard. “me? i think i’m just quiet.”

she laughed, a sound that made something in your chest tighten. “no, it’s more than that. you’re like…really the silent type.”

you shrugged, not really knowing what to say. words weren’t your strong suit; you were more at ease with tools and machines than with people.

however, there was something about her that made you want to try.

over the next few weeks, you found yourself talking to her more. she would start conversations; it was mostly small things — questions about school, comments about the weather, a shared laugh at the antics of the local town characters.

however, each word, each moment felt significant, like you were building something fragile and precious between you.

“so, what’s your favourite song right now?” she asked, a big grin plastered on her face as she kicked pebbles ahead of you.

you thought about your answer, humming. “my pa’s always singing bruce springteen, so probably one of his songs.”

she clapped in excitement, turning to you. “so does mine, which song?”

“y’know, i’m on fire — a classic,” you rubbed your nape, feeling small under her gaze. “but when we’re at murphy’s, he plays rocket man on the juke.”

“but what do you like? imagine we were at the diner right now, what would you sing?”

“well, right now, i’ve been humming to i remember everything; zach bryan.”

she nodded, satisfied. “good choice - i’ll listen to that tonight and think of you.”

and then one morning, you found her waiting by the fence at the end of her driveway, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger as she stared out over the misty fields.

you greeted her with a nod, falling into step beside her. “you look bored.”

“i always am,” she heaved out a sigh. “there’s nothing to do ‘round here.”

for a while, you walked in silence, the gravel crunching under your boots as she hummed a new tune. it was quite obvious that there was a lot going on in her mind, so you let her be.

“do you ever get tired of rhodes?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

you glanced over at her, surprised. “what do you mean?”

she shrugged, looking down at the road as she walked. “it just feels like…i don’t know. like i’m supposed to be somewhere else. somewhere bigger.”

you considered her words, feeling the pull of her restless energy. “you mean the city?”

“maybe,” she murmured. “somewhere with more people, more things to do. sometimes i feel like i don’t fit here, you know?”

you nodded, though your own feelings were mixed. it was predictable yet comforting in its own way. yet you could understand her need for more, her desire to break free of the small-town expectations that kept people in their places. “what would you do?”

“law, music; anything to get out of here,” she said without hesitation, her eyes lighting up. “it’s silly.”

“it’s not silly,” you replied softly, surprised by the passion in her voice. “it’s brave.”

she laughed, but there was a hint of sadness in it. “i don’t feel very brave. i mean, look at me. all i do is cheer and go to parties and pretend i’m happy with all of this.”

you didn’t know what to say. she had always seemed so confident, so sure of her place in the world. seeing her like this, vulnerable and unsure, made you feel closer to her in a way you hadn’t expected.

“well,” you said finally, keeping your voice light, “if you ever want a ride out of this place, i’ll let you borrow one of my pa’s a hundred trucks someday.”

she glanced at you, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “you’d really let me borrow those precious trucks?”

“maybe,” you said, pretending to think it over. “as long as you promise the old boy not to crash it.”

she laughed, the sound filling the air around you, and for a moment, the tension melted away, replaced by something easy and warm.

yet deep down you knew, she was going to leave one day.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was a chilly afternoon at school and you were leaning against the wall outside your classroom just waiting for the bell to ring.

you’ve got your hands in your pockets, watching the last leaves fall from the trees outside. the day has been long, filled with the usual classes and quiet looks exchanged with minji as she passed you in the halls. she always offered a small, secret smile — a reminder of the connection the two of you were quietly building.

you were lost in your thoughts amongst the crowd when a shadow loomed over you.

taehyung, one of the football players, all swagger and confidence as he stands a little too close, sizing you up like you’re beneath him. you’d fixed his car a few times before; his dad’s an old friend of your uncle’s and he would stop by the garage a handful of times, always with that same arrogant smirk.

“hey y/n,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest. “i need you to look at my car again. it’s making this weird noise, and i don’t have time to deal with it.”

you raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his tone. “when’s it making the noise?”

he shrugged, as if your question was pointless. “i don’t know. all the time, i guess. you’re the one who’s supposed to know about these things, right?”

prick.

you bit back a retort, reminding yourself that this is just how he talked. besides, fixing cars wasn’t just a job to you; it was something you enjoyed. “bring it by the garage after school. i’ll take a look.”

he didn’t say thank you, didn’t even acknowledge your offer to help. instead, he scoffed, looking at you like you were a servant he summoned. “good. i’ll swing by later. and don’t keep me waiting, alright? i got football early.”

before you could respond, another voice cut in. it was minji; and she didn’t look too impressed.

“excuse me,” she said, her tone icy and uncharacteristically sharp. she was standing just a few feet away, glaring at him with a look you’ve never seen on her before. “is that how you talk to people who are helping you?”

he turned to her, surprised, then chuckled, clearly amused. “oh hey, minji. didn’t see you there.”

“obviously,” she snapped, taking a step closer. “because if you had, you might have remembered that it’s rude to treat people like they owe you something.”

he seemed taken aback, clearly not used to being called out, especially not by someone like her. “what’s the big deal? it’s just y/n. she’s used to this kinda stuff.”

“just y/n?” she repeated, her voice growing colder. “y/n’s doing you a favour. the least you could do is show a little respect.”

you stood there, stunned, not used to seeing minji like this; fierce and protective. part of you wanted to pull her back, tell her it was all good, but the other part is quietly grateful for the way she was standing up for you.

he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “whatever, minji. i don’t get why you’re so worked up over this.”

“because it’s common decency, taehyung,” she said firmly. “and maybe you should try it sometime.”

the tension hung heavy in the air, a standoff between the most powerful kids in town as a few students nearby glanced over, was a rare event to watch.

“fine,” he muttered, barely meeting your gaze. “thanks for, uh, looking at the car — i guess.”

it was a half-hearted apology, but you took it, nodding slightly. “no problem.”

with one last glare at her, taehyung stalked off, muttering under his breath. as soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to you, her expression softening, worry flickering in her eyes.

“sorry if i overstepped,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “it just…he shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

you sent her a small smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. “thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

she shrugged, but there was a softness to her gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “maybe not. but i wanted to. you’re too nice sometimes, you know?”

you laughed, glancing down, feeling a little shy under her stare. “guess i just don’t see the point in getting worked up over guys like him.”

“well, maybe you should,” she said, her tone teasing. “or you could just let me get worked up for you.”

“i’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the way her words made you feel.

for a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching between you in a way that felt natural. then minji looked around, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“wanna skip the rest of the day?”

you raised an eyebrow. “skip school? miss ‘perfect attendance’ minji wants to cut class?”

she laughed, her smile wide and free. “just this once. come on, let’s go into into town.”

you hesitated, glancing back at the school, but the look in her eyes was too tempting to resist. with a grin, you nodded, gesturing towards the main door. “alright, then. let’s stop by murphy’s.”

skipping class wasn’t something either of you did often, but today felt different — a small rebellion that felt like it belonged to you and her alone.

the two of you walked in comfortable silence down main street, minji bumping her shoulder playfully against yours every so often. the breeze danced the leaves around, the occasional folks passing by and giving you questionable looks - you didn’t say much, but the unspoken ease said more than words could.

after a few blocks, you found yourselves standing outside murphy’s diner, the familiar chipping paint and neon sign buzzing quietly in the afternoon light.

you held open the door, nodding for her to go in first. “after you, punk.”

she laughed, shaking her head as she stepped inside. “i should be saying that to you, you’re the bad influence here.”

“i think it’s mutual at this point,” you replied with a grin, following her into the diner.

the place was nearly empty, save for a couple of regulars at the counter and murphy himself, looking half-asleep behind the cash register. he perked up slightly when he saw you both, adjusting his stained apron and giving you a nod of acknowledgment.

“hey kids,” murphy called out, not quite smiling but his eyes crinkling in what could pass as friendly. “what brings you in here on a school day?”

“just felt like a change of scenery,” minji answered, sliding into a booth by the window. she glanced at you, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “thought we’d come sample your famous pie.”

he snorted, crossing his arms. “famous, huh? that what they’re calling it now?”

“sure is,” you said, grinning as you took a seat across from her. “heard you’ve got some new ‘experimental’ flavours going on. i might be feeling brave today.”

“i’d rethink that if i were you, your pa’s guts couldn’t even handle it,” he replied, one eyebrow raised. “but i’ll get you both a slice of the apple. can’t go wrong with the classic.”

as he shuffled off to the kitchen, minji leaned across the table, resting her chin in her hands. “you come here a lot, huh?”

you nodded, looking around the diner with a sense of quiet fondness. “yeah. it’s kinda like…i don’t know. a second home, almost. it’s pa’s favourite place in the world — him and murph go way back.”

she smiled, her gaze softening. “i can see that. i used to come here with my mum when i was little. she’d always get me one of those gigantic milkshakes, and then i’d feel sick for hours afterward.”

“so nothing’s changed,” you teased, and she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“not true. now i can handle my milkshakes without the regret,” she looked around, taking in the retro red booths, the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner and the small posters lining the walls. “it’s got that old charm to it, you know? like it’s been here forever.”

“probably has,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t listening in. “murphy’s just as much a part of this place as the food is.”

she laughed, shaking her head. “and his infamous temper. last time i was in here, i saw him argue with some poor guy over how much sugar he was putting in his coffee.”

“sounds about right,” you said, chuckling. “you know, i think he’s convinced he’s running some kind of fine dining establishment.”

“let him dream,” she replied with a grin. “it makes this place more interesting.”

murphy came back a moment later, setting down two plates in front of you, each with a thick slice of pie that steamed slightly, the golden crust flaking off at the edges.

“your pa know you cut classes now, y/n?” he sent you a funny look, one that made you gulp. “you in luck, i keep secrets to m’self these days.”

“thanks murph,” you smiled as minji tried to suppress her laughter.

he poured you each a cup of coffee without asking, grumbling under his breath about “kids these days” before disappearing back behind the counter.

she picked up her fork, cutting into the pie and taking a tentative bite. her eyes widened, and she made a small noise of approval. “okay, i’ll admit, this is actually pretty good.”

you took a bite as well, nodding in agreement. “he’s a little eccentric but the man knows how to make a pie.”

she glanced over at murphy, who was pretending not to watch you both from the corner of his eye. “maybe we should give him some credit.”

“don’t let him hear you say that,” you warned, keeping your voice low. “next thing you know, he’ll be charging ‘gourmet’ prices.”

she laughed, covering her mouth, and for a moment, everything felt easy and light, like the two of you were just regular kids, free from the weight of expectations or small-town gossip.

you watched her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, and felt an overwhelming sense of warmth in your chest.

“so, what else do you do around here?” she asked, leaning back in the booth and sipping her coffee, eyes fixed on you with genuine interest. “besides fixing trucks.”

“not much, honestly,” you admitted, shrugging. “sometimes i’ll go out riding horses. there’s this trail out by the woods that’s perfect for it.”

“do you actually?”

“yeah,” you replied, a little surprised by her excitement. “my family’s got a few. i’ve been riding since i was a kid, how have you not seen our horses?”

“i guess i never noticed,” she said, sounding almost awestruck. “i always wanted to learn, but mum was convinced i’d end up falling off and breaking something.”

you chuckled, picturing a young minji, her eyes bright with excitement. “it’s not that dangerous, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

“well, i wouldn’t know what i’m doing, so there’s that,” she replied, laughing. “maybe someday you could…teach me?”

the question caught you off guard, but you nodded, trying to keep your voice casual. “yeah, sure. we could go sometime. i’d love to show you.”

a comfortable silence settled between you as you both finished your pie, stealing glances out the window at the quiet town beyond. it was strange, this sense of peace you felt around her, like you could share anything and it would feel normal.

after a while, she sighed, setting down her fork and looking at you thoughtfully. “thanks for bringing me here. i feel like i’m seeing this town in a new way, you know?”

“happy to share it with you,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “you make it feel different too.

minji’s cheeks flushed a little, but she didn’t look away. instead, she just smiled as you both let the quiet settle in again, savouring the feeling of being together.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

one weekend, like you had promised, you led minji toward the stables; showing her around the fields and introducing her to the horses. she was practically bouncing with excitement, taking everything in with curious eyes.

she’d been asking about the horses ever since you’d told her about them back at murphy’s, and today, she’d finally convinced you to let her come by to meet them.

“they’re even bigger up close,” she said, her voice filled with awe as she reached out, hesitating just a moment before brushing her fingers over the soft nose of your favourite horse, duke.

you grinned, patting duke on the neck. “he’s a gentle giant, aren’t you, buddy?”

duke gave a soft snort, leaning into your touch and her face lit up with a smile that made something warm bloom in your chest.

“can i feed him?” she asked, glancing at you for approval.

“sure,” you replied, grabbing a couple of carrots from the feed bucket nearby. “just keep your hand flat and he’ll be careful.”

she took the carrot, holding it out with her hand as you instructed and giggled as duke’s soft muzzle tickled her palm. “oh my god, he’s so sweet!”

“yeah, he’s a good boy,” you said, watching her with a fond smile.

seeing her here, surrounded by the horses and the familiar quiet of the stables, felt strangely right, as if she’d always belonged.

as she moved on to pet one of the other horses, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. turning, you saw your dad strolling into the stables, wiping his greasy hands on an old rag.

he raised an eyebrow when he spotted minji, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“well, well, didn’t expect to see you bringing company out here, y/n,” he said, his gaze flicking from you to her with a look of pleasant surprise.

she turned, a bit flustered but quickly recovering with that bright smile of hers. “hi mr. l/n,” she greeted him, polite and cheerful as ever.

“minji,” he began, chuckling softly as he extended a hand, which she shook firmly. “heard a lot about you from your da. never thought i’d see you out here in the stables with y/n.”

“guess i just wanted to see the horses,” she responded, throwing a quick, slightly embarrassed glance at you. “she’s been telling me all about them.”

“did you now?” he gave you a knowing look, one that made you want to roll your eyes, but you held back. he’d always had that look in his eye whenever he saw you with friends, but this was different, he seemed more…amused.

“she’s never seen them ‘round, pa,” you laughed. “can you believe that?”

“well, make yourself at home,” he told her with a wink. “and darling, while you’re at it, i need you to run down to mrs. kim’s pet store later and pick up the order i put in. she’ll know what it is.”

“sure thing,” you replied, used to the occasional errand for him. “anything else?”

“and since you’ll be out, why don’t you stop by murphy’s and bring me one of those experimental pie slices too? been hearing a lot about his latest concoction.”

minji laughed, catching the joke. “are you sure you want to try it, mr. l/n? murphy’s experimental flavours can be…questionable.”

your dad chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “that’s exactly why i want it. figure life’s more fun with a little culinary risk, right?”

“you sound like murphy,” you said, shaking your head. “can i take the ‘88?”

“yeah, well, maybe he’s onto something,” your dad replied with a grin, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “alright, you two have fun with the horses. don’t let her talk your ear off about their ‘good temperament,’ minji.”

you huffed. “you didn’t answer my question!”

“yeah, yeah, whatever - s’long as you keep minji impressed over here.”

you rolled your eyes as he walked away, a smirk on his face as he disappeared out the stable door, clearly amused by the whole situation.

“your dad seems nice,” she said, her voice soft, watching him go.

“he is,” you replied, a touch of pride in your voice. “he’s the one who taught me everything about taking care of these guys. treats them like family.”

“i can tell,” she said, her stare lingering on you with a look that made you feel both shy and a little flustered. “him and my dad drink in our garage sometimes.”

“talking about cars and engines, i bet.”

“when do they not?”

after a while, you finished up at the stables, promising minji that you’d let her come back to ride sometime soon. together, you walked down main street, heading toward mrs. kim’s pet store for your dad’s order.

when you pushed open the door to the shop, the familiar musty scent of birdseed and old carpet washed over you.

mrs. kim looked up from the counter, her ever-present scowl deepening when she saw you and minji step inside.

“what do you two want?” she barked, her voice sharp as ever. her parrot, archie, squawked in response, as if echoing her sentiment.

“just picking up an order for my pa,” you replied, unfazed by her grumpiness. “he said you’d have it ready?”

she grumbled something under her breath, shuffling off to the back room. archie, watching you intently, tilted his head and squawked again, “no freeloaders!”

mrs. kim had been running the pet store for as long as you could remember; she was infamous for her suspicion of teenagers and her tendency to talk to her parrot, archie, as if he were her business partner.

“archie’s in a good mood, i see,” minji whispered, fighting back a laugh.

“archie’s always in a ‘good’ mood,” you replied with a smirk. “he and mrs. kim are like two peas in a pod.”

“i heard that,” mrs. kim snapped from the back room, making both of you jump.

you shot minji a look, both of you trying not to laugh. a moment later, she returned with a small bag and set it on the counter, eyeing you suspiciously. “make sure your dad pays on time this time, y/n.”

“he always does — got the wrong person again, mrs. kim,” you replied, handing her a few bills as she huffed, muttering about “young folks” under her breath.

as you turned to leave, minji leaned over the counter, giving mrs. kim a bright smile. “thank you, mrs. kim! we’ll be back soon for more of archie’s wisdom.”

her scowl softened just a fraction, and she gave her a begrudging nod. “well, you better keep your hands off the merchandise if you do.”

“of course,” minji replied, her voice light, before giving archie a little wave. “bye, archie!”

archie bobbed his head, squawking one last time, “no freeloaders!”

the two of you finally left the store, stepping back onto the sunny sidewalk, both of you dissolving into laughter as soon as you were out of mrs. kim’s radar.

“i swear, she’s the grumpiest person i’ve ever met,” she said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. “but i kind of love her.”

“i know,” you said, shaking your head. “town wouldn’t be the same without her, though. she keeps us all on our toes.”

“yeah,” she agreed, a soft smile on her face. “it’s kind of funny…i always talk about wanting to leave, but when i think about leaving people like mrs. kim or murphy behind, it actually makes me a little sad.”

you looked at her, surprised by the vulnerable admission. “you’ve been around them your whole life. it’d be weird not to have them around.”

“i know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “as much as i want to get out, sometimes i think about what i’d be leaving behind. like…like little pieces of myself are tied to this place.”

“maybe that’s what makes it home,” you said softly. “all these weird, wonderful people who make this place what it is.”

she looked at you, her expression thoughtful, and nodded. “yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“archie’s a character, too,” you added, switching back to a lighter conversation. “he’s probably the one keeping her in business.”

“definitely. everyone goes there just to see him, not her.”

“well, at least your dad knows how to keep life interesting,” she mumbled as the two of you strolled back toward murphy’s diner. “between ordering experimental pie and dealing with mrs. kim’s antics, i’d say he’s living his best life.”

you chuckled, feeling a warmth in your chest at the thought of your pa and the quirky charm of your small town. “yeah. he’s got it all figured out, i think.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the sun was just starting to set as you sat on the porch with your dad, the last light casting a warm glow over the fields. he rocked slowly in his chair, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked over at you.

“so…you and minji been spending a lot of time together, huh?” he asked, in that familiar teasing tone of his.

you rolled your eyes, trying to act unbothered. “we’re just hanging out. she’s nice, that’s all.”

“just nice?” he raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “funny, ‘cause from what i hear, you’ve been giving her the grand tour of rhodes and introducing her to all the horses and such. don’t usually do that with just anyone.”

heat crept up your neck. “it’s not like that,” you muttered, glancing away. “besides, nothing’s ever gonna happen. you know how this town is — everyone goes to church on sundays and thinks people like me are going to hell.”

he was quiet for a moment, letting your words settle between you.

you felt the weight of them, the ache that came with knowing this town had walls, even if they were invisible.

“and anyway,” you continued, barely above a whisper, “minji’s straight. she’s probably just being nice ‘cause she feels sorry for me or something.”

your dad shook his head, his eyes soft and understanding. “kid, that’s nonsense. i don’t think she’s the type to spend time with someone just ‘cause she feels sorry for ‘em. from what i can see, that girl genuinely likes being around you — her da says that too.”

“even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.” you sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation in your voice. “this town…it’s not like people here would ever accept it. i mean, they’re all so set in their ways, and they’ve known each other forever. they’d never understand.”

he sent a thoughtful nod. “you’re right that people here got their ways. but you know…folks talk, but they don’t talk bad. they care about family, about helping each other out. they got their beliefs, sure, but i don’t think they’d turn their backs on you; you’re family.”

you looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on your sleeve. his words gave you a flicker of hope, though you weren’t quite sure if you believed him.

“and besides,” he added, a sly smile breaking through, “this isn’t about the town, is it? it’s about how you feel.”

“i know, but it doesn’t matter now. or ever. she’s too pretty, anyway.”

he leaned in, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. “so…you think she’s pretty, hey?”

you felt your face burn as you tried to stammer out a response, but before you could say anything, the sound of footsteps interrupted. you looked up, startled, and there she was — minji, standing just a few feet away with a shy smile, her eyes flicking between you and him.

“uh hey,” she said, clearly sensing she’d walked in on something. “i didn’t mean to interrupt, just thought i’d watch y/n work in the garage.”

it was nearly impossible to find your voice, too flustered to do anything but offer a small wave. your dad chuckled, his gaze bouncing from you to minji, and back again.

“well, speak of the devil,” he began, his voice full of that familiar warmth. “sweetheart, we were just talking about you.”

shooting him a look, you plead him to be quiet but the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done yet.

she raised an eyebrow. “all good things?”

“y/n here was just saying how nice you are,” he continued, completely unfazed by your glare. “always good to see good folks spending time together.”

she smiled, her eyes catching yours for a brief second; something unreadable flickering in her gaze. “well, y/n, you’re pretty great company yourself.”

your pa just grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and gave you a little pat on the shoulder before he stood up. “i’ll leave you two to it, then.”

and with that, he strolled inside, whistling a tune, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to figure out what to say to the girl who had suddenly made everything feel so complicated.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the day minji returned to rhodes, the sky was heavy with the kind of grey clouds that seemed to hold a familiar quiet.

four years had slipped by since she’d left, the city pulling her away like a magnet, offering her a life she thought she wanted – or at least, a life she thought would make her forget. now, sitting in her da’s ‘72 chevy as he drove her back from the station, she felt the strange sense of both everything and nothing changing.

the truck rattled as they drove down the winding road that led into town, its worn seats and rusty interior a stark contrast to the sleek offices she was used to. it was only when she glanced down that she noticed the shiny new bolts in the dashboard, the hint of fresh paint.

“dad, did you fix the truck?” she asked, running her fingers along the smooth edge, noticing the little changes.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “i wish, y/n fixed it up. finally had the time to look under the hood,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice as he tapped the steering wheel. “opened up her own shop a year back. doing well, from what i see — helping me look after old girl here.”

she felt a twinge in her chest, an old, familiar ache she’d buried beneath years of work and distance. you. the girl who loved her in the quietest, fiercest way — the one she left behind. it was hard to picture you now, four years later, still here in the town that had once felt too small, too suffocating for her.

“she opened her own garage?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice casual, though her heart was pounding. the last she’d heard, you had been working odd jobs, fixing up trucks for people on the side, but she’d never imagined you actually staying, putting down roots here.

it didn’t quite make sense to her — you were keen on leaving, at some point.

“she did,” he nodded, his voice warm with the admiration he held for you. “that girl’s got talent and folks around here know it. opened the place up some years after her pa passed…not too long after you left, actually.”

the words hit her like a slap, sudden and jarring. “her dad…passed away?” she asked, barely able to get the words out. she felt a pang of guilt settle heavy in her stomach, a sick, sinking feeling that twisted through her. “what?”

he nodded, his expression softened with a sadness she hadn’t noticed before. “it was sudden. heart attack, coroner said. she was…well, she was left to handle things on her own. the town tried to help, but she didn’t really let anyone in. shut herself off, y’know?”

she stared at the passing landscape, her heart heavy with guilt and regret, memories surfacing of all the times she’d spent in their yard, watching you and your dad tinker with the trucks.

“sweetheart, tell your da to let that old girl rest,” he often joked, referring to the chevy. “and tell him to give it to me.”

he’d always had a way of making her feel like she belonged there, even though she was just a girl who’d wandered over too many times — looking for an excuse to be near you.

she could still remember his warm laugh as he handed her a sandwich, the smell of grilled cheese filling the air, sometimes even murphy’s pies, you rolling your eyes but smiling anyway as he fussed over them, asking if you’d had enough to eat, if you wanted something else.

she’d spent countless afternoons like that, sitting on the tailgate of an old truck, the three of you laughing and talking like a makeshift family.

and there were the stables, where your dad and her own had shown them the basics of horseback riding, teaching her how to hold the reins, how to stay calm. she could still hear his voice, patient and steady, guiding her through each step, his pride evident every time she got something right.

those moments had felt like a small slice of paradise, a simplicity and warmth that she hadn’t appreciated enough at the time.

now, the weight of her absence settled over her, a hollow ache that grew with each memory. “why didn’t anyone tell me?” she asked, her voice trembling with frustration. “i would’ve…i would’ve come back…or done something.”

her da heaved a sigh, his expression sad but understanding. “darling, it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to bring up. you were busy with college, building a life out there, we didn’t want to pull you back into something you’d left behind. and y/n, she wasn’t letting anyone in. not even us.”

“she shut everyone out?” she whispered, her chest tightening at the thought of you going through that alone. “i was her…friend.”

she’d left, chasing a future in the city, cutting ties, thinking she could escape without looking back; you stayed.

the town looked the same — fields stretching out wide, familiar old houses dotting the road, half-empty streets lined with memories she’d tried so hard to bury. she remembered thinking she needed to get out, to be someone bigger than this place. everything felt smaller, yes, but also somehow more real.

“your friends are still around, you know,” he said, glancing over at her. “danielle, hanni, haerin, hyein; most folks have moved on, but those girls are still here. might do you some good to see them while you’re back.”

she smiled faintly, memories of their laughter, their teenage dreams, filling her mind.

“maybe,” she murmured, though her thoughts were elsewhere.

he gave her a sideways glance, his eyes softening with something close to pity. “you know, darling, it’s funny how we all make a big fuss about things that don’t really matter,” he began slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “when you two were younger, we all knew. hell, everyone knew. this town may be small, but we ain’t small-minded.”

she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, looking down at her hands. she could feel the sting of shame creeping in, a bitter taste at the back of her throat. “you…you didn’t care?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

minji felt stupid — realising just how much of her fear had been rooted in an imagined rejection, an unfounded worry of not being accepted in the eyes of her own family.

he shook his head, his expression soft. “we just wanted you to be happy. you two were good for each other. anyone could see that. your mother and i, we didn’t care, not like you thought,” he sighed, looking out at the familiar fields and fences as they passed by. “but you ran off, and i think she, well, she tried to move on too. but this town has a funny way of holding on to people.”

“what do you mean?” she bit her lip, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“she left when you did, but came back,” he admitted, sighing. “think she wanted to find you, knocked on our door one night asking for your address.”

her heart dropped. “why didn’t she call me?”

“y/n and phones don’t work well together,” he laughed lightly. “we tried to call you to let you know, but you were barely answering anyone ‘round the time —“

“i’m sorry,” a tear slipped out of her eye. “i didn’t mean to; i don’t know why i acted like rhodes didn’t do me any good.”

he placed his hand on top of hers, squeezing it gently. “whatever happens, you apologise to that girl, alright? make things right before you leave her again — you two were good together.”

she nodded, unable to look at him, her mind racing with memories, with the realisation of all she’d left behind, the things she’d tried to forget.

the words settled over her it was soothing a wound she hadn’t known she still carried. she’d spent so much time running, afraid that love would trap her, would limit her to a small life in a small town.

right now, sitting beside her da, she felt a strange sense of clarity. perhaps she’d underestimated this place and the people in it.

they drove in comfortable silence until, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone riding a horse along the edge of the field that bordered the road.

her heart skipped a beat as she recognised the figure — your figure, sitting tall and steady, guiding duke with practiced ease; his golden brown coat shining against the light. you looked so much like the girl she remembered, and yet different, a little older, a little harder, like the years had carved something new into you.

when the truck drove pass, you forced yourself to remain steady, giving a small nod to her dad. yet you kept your gaze neutral, as if minji wasn’t even there, like the sight of her hadn’t stirred something deep within you.

she was just another face in the passing cars, another stranger returning to a place she’d left behind.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

everything started to change in senior year. maybe it was the way she began to linger a little longer at the gate, waiting for you even when her friends had already headed off without her. or maybe it was the stolen glances, the subtle softening of her expression when she looked your way, as if she saw something there she hadn’t noticed before.

whatever it was, you both fell into it quietly, like it was bound to happen someday.

it started as a subtle shift. you had always coexisted in the same small world, but it was only in those final years of high school that the space between you began to close. you couldn’t remember exactly when the glances turned into something more, when the quiet nods in the mornings became soft smiles, lingering a second longer than before.

the summer night was thick with warmth, the air alive with laughter, music, and the soft crackle of a bonfire that cast flickering shadows across the lake.

these gatherings always felt a little surreal, like you were watching a movie of someone else’s life from the outside, not quite fitting into the easy flow of conversation and laughter that everyone else seemed to slip into naturally.

minji was there too, laughing with her friends, her figure caught in the soft glow of the fire. she was radiant tonight, her summer dress clinging to her as she moved. you tried not to look at her too much, to avoid the tightness in your chest whenever she glanced your way or threw her head back in laughter at something one of her friends said.

she was beautiful, so bright and alive that it hurt to look directly at her for too long, like staring into the sun.

you kept your distance in front of the fire, knowing it was safer this way. you were her friend — but that was all. wanting more than that was a line you couldn’t cross, a risk you weren’t sure you could take.

and yet, it didn’t stop the ache, the impossible yearning that twisted inside you every time you saw her smile at someone else.

“hey buddy,” hanni scooted beside you, handing you another can of beer. she was one of minji’s friends from the cheerleading team. “why don’t you join her?”

you shook your head, warmth rushing to your cheeks as you took the budweiser. “thanks hanni - and i’m all good, i’m too awkward to make conversation anyways.”

she chuckled, cracking her can open. “minji talks a whole heap ‘bout you — all good things too.”

“that’s good to know,” you smiled. and for a second, minji’s eyes land on you both, motioning for you to come. “go ahead, join them.”

“s’ppose i should,” she stood up, patting your back. “come join us later, yeah?”

it was as you were lost in thought that he appeared — sunoo. he slipped into their group around, all charm and confidence and leaned close to minji, his hand brushing against her arm as he said something that made her laugh. she didn’t pull away, didn’t seem to mind his closeness and the sight of it made your stomach twist.

what he wanted was too obvious; it was written all over his face, in the way his eyes followed her, the way he leaned into her like she was already his.

there was some sort of bitterness churning in your chest. sunoo was everything you weren’t —outgoing, popular, confident in ways you couldn’t be. he could have her without hiding, without pretending and the thought of it was like a knife twisting in your heart.

you weren’t sure how long you watched them, how long you let yourself feel that raw, consuming ache, but eventually, it was too much.

without a word, you turned and walked away from the bonfire, letting the noise and laughter fade behind you as you headed down toward the jetty, where the lake stretched out into the dark, quiet and still untouched by the party.

letting your feet dangle over the water, you stared out at the lake. the gentle lap of the waves against the wood soothing but not enough to calm the storm inside you.

it was painful, this quiet longing, this want that could never be more than a secret. you wanted her more than you’d ever wanted anything but you knew you’d never be able to have her the way you wanted to — openly, without fear, without shame.

she was quiet as she walked down the jetty, her footsteps soft, almost hesitant. when she finally reached you, she sat down beside you, her legs swinging over the edge as she stared out at the water, her face bathed in the silver glow of moonlight.

“there you are,” she muttered softly, not looking at you. “why did you leave?”

you shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the lake. “just needed some air.”

“is that really all?” her voice was steady, but there was something beneath it, something careful and probing.

you clenched your jaw, unwilling to admit it. “i just didn’t want to be around all those people.”

she didn’t answer right away, and you could feel her watching you, her gaze intense, searching.

“y/n,” she said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “why don’t you ever look at me? really look at me for a second longer?”

the question startled you, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. you looked away, your heart hammering, feeling raw and exposed under her stares. “what are you talking about? i look at you all the time, minji.”

“no,” she murmured, shaking her head, her eyes never leaving you. “not like that. not the way you look at me when you think i’m not watching.”

you swallowed, feeling a surge of panic. you hadn’t realised she’d noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long, the way you watched her like she was the only person in the room. you’d thought you’d hidden it well, that she couldn’t possibly see the feelings you’d kept buried so deeply inside.

“minji, i…” you started, your voice barely audible, thick with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. “it’s complicated.”

she didn’t look away, her gaze steady, unflinching. “complicated?” she repeated, a trace of frustration in her voice. “we both know there’s something here. we’ve both felt it…haven’t we?”

you wanted to tell her the truth, to let everything you’d been holding back pour out, but the words felt stuck in your throat, tangled up with fear and doubt.

“you don’t understand,” you told her, your voice barely more than a breath. “you’re perfect. you belong in the light, with people who can stand beside you without hiding. i don’t want to be someone you have to keep a secret.”

she let out a soft, shaky laugh, her fingers brushing against yours, sending a spark of warmth through you. “you think i care about that?” she murmured, her voice raw, vulnerable. “you’re the one person who’s ever really seen me. who’s ever made me feel like…like i’m enough.”

the honesty in her words was like a jolt, cutting through the walls you’d built around yourself. you turned to her, finally meeting her eyes and the intensity in them took your breath away.

there was something there, and for the first time, you let yourself hope — hope that maybe she felt the same way.

“minji…” you whispered, barely able to speak, your voice thick with everything you’d kept hidden. “i’m scared.”

she reached out then, her fingers grazing your cheek, her touch gentle but steady. “me too,” she admitted, her voice trembling just slightly. “but that doesn’t change the way i feel. i don’t want to hide from this, from you. not anymore.”

before you could process what was happening, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft, as if she were testing the waters.

you froze for a moment, caught off guard by the rush of warmth, the softness of her touch, and then you kissed her back; the weight of all your unspoken feelings pouring into that single moment.

her hands found their way to your neck, fingers threading through your hair as she pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, her lips warm and insistent against yours.

there was something desperate in the way she kissed you, as if she’d been holding back just as much as you had, as if this was a release, a breaking point you’d both been hurtling toward for so long.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, her forehead resting against yours as she closed her eyes, a small, contented smile playing on her lips.

“see?” she whispered, her voice soft and full of warmth. “that wasn’t so hard and scary now, was it?”

you chuckled, a small laugh, feeling a sense of relief and joy you hadn’t known you’d been holding back. “not with you,” you murmured, your fingers lacing through hers.

she leaned her head against your shoulder, her hand still entwined with yours, the two of you sitting there in the quiet, the world around you fading into the background.

“my love,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence, “i don’t care about what people think. i don’t care if we have to hide.”

you turned to her, feeling something settle in your chest, something warm and steady, and you squeezed her hand, nodding. “then we’ll make it work. one step at a time.”

she smiled, a soft, genuine smile that lit up her face, and as you both sat there on the edge of the jetty, the lake stretching out into the quiet of the night.

she was worth it. and for the first time, you let yourself believe that perhaps you could have this; the kind of love you’d always thought was beyond reach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

for the next few months, your world became a quiet paradise — stolen moments and secret meetings. there was a thrill to it, hiding from the prying eyes of the town, laughing together as you pulled her behind barns or up into the fields where no one could see. it was always careful, always hidden. there was too much at risk if people found out – a town like yours didn’t take kindly to love that didn’t fit within its old, narrow-minded lines.

every day, you moved through the halls and classrooms, blending into the background, unnoticed by most, unless they asked you to look at their truck.

since you’d started seeing minji, your world seemed to shift in small ways that you couldn’t help but notice.

take lunch, for instance, it had started to feel like the highlight of your day. you’d usually sit alone or with a few other quiet friends, minding your own business, eating whatever lunch you’d packed from home.

on some days, she would appear, just casually walking by your table, glancing around like she wasn’t really looking for anyone in particular.

she’d give you a quick nod, a hint of a smile and drop something onto the table in front of you: a sandwich, a bag of fruit, or even a little box with cookies she’d baked the night before.

“you gotta eat,” she never said more than that; she’d just let the items slide across the table before walking off, her gaze distant, like she hadn’t just slipped you a part of herself.

“what’s that all about?” jimin asked you one time, his eyes twinkled with curiosity. “you bribe her or something?”

“just payment for fixing her car one time,” you lied through your teeth.

one of the days jimin wasn’t around, she handed you a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, carefully made, crusts cut off, the kind of neat, perfect thing you’d expect from someone like her.

you looked down at it, raising an eyebrow before looking up at her with a questioning glance.

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the small smile playing on her lips. “don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, her voice low so no one else would hear. “i just…made an extra, mum thought it’d be nice for me to give the neighbour one.”

you couldn’t help but grin, glancing around to make sure no one else was watching before unwrapping it. the sandwich was cut into perfect triangles, layered with fresh ingredients, something better than you would’ve ever packed for yourself. taking a bite, you could taste a mix of flavours, like she’d actually put thought into what you’d like.

“you don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you said quietly, the words softened by the smile you couldn’t hold back. “i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“maybe i want to,” she replied, a hint of defiance in her tone. “and besides, it’s not like you’re any good at packing lunches.” she glanced down, brushing an invisible speck off her shirt. “consider it…payback for letting me take duke out for a stroll.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “right, payback,” you repeated, knowing it was an excuse, a flimsy cover for something neither of you would ever say out loud, not here in this cafeteria, surrounded by people who wouldn’t understand.

“see you later?”

“later,” you nodded.

she began to walk away, but then turned around. “where’s jimin? why are you all alone?”

“oh, he’s somewhere ‘round the library.”

sometimes, in between classes, you’d find little notes slipped into the side pocket of your backpack, tucked away where no one else would see. they were simple, scribbled on scraps of paper, sometimes written hastily as if she’d been worried someone might see.

meet me by the bleachers after school.

or sometimes just a simple:

thinking of you.

each note was like a quiet reminder that, even in this place where you both had to pretend, she was still there, still yours in ways no one else could see.

and then there were moments in class, small interactions that felt like secrets passed between you in plain sight.

in history class, she’d sit a few seats ahead of you, close enough that you could catch her profile when she turned her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder. sometimes, she’d glance back, just for a second, and her eyes would meet yours. her lips would twitch in the hint of a smile, so brief that you’d almost wonder if you’d imagined it, before she turned back, her focus on the teacher, face calm and composed.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

one day, as the bell rang and students began to file out, you were gathering your things when you felt a light touch on your shoulder. you turned to find her standing beside you, her expression calm as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be waiting for you like this.

“forgot your pencil,” she murmured, holding it out to you.

you blinked, glancing down at the pencil in her hand. it wasn’t yours — it was hers, the one she’d been using to write down notes during english class.

“thanks,” you said softly, taking it from her. your fingers brushed, the brief contact sending a spark through you that you fought to keep off your face.

“no problem,” she replied, giving you a small smile before turning and slipping into the crowd, her footsteps blending with the sounds of students heading to their next classes.

after school, you’d wait by the bleachers, like she’d asked in her note, the cool breeze brushing against you as you watched the field, waiting for her familiar silhouette.

when she finally appeared, she’d slip beside you, careful to keep a few inches of distance in case anyone saw. but once you were alone, she’d let the distance disappear, leaning into you, her hand finding yours, fingers interlacing as if they’d been made to fit.

“you know, we’re pretty good at this whole sneaking-around thing,” she’d say with a smirk, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper.

you’d laugh, pulling her closer, the world fading as she looked up at you, her gaze warm and open, the side of her that no one else ever got to see.

“yeah, we are,” you’d reply, your voice thick with the happiness that came from simply being near her.

but it wasn’t perfect. minji was torn between her love for you and the life she was expected to lead. she still wore her role as the town’s golden girl, her perfect smiles and flawless routines. in school, she was still minji, the cheerleader, the girl who turned heads.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was early morning, sunlight barely beginning to filter through the kitchen window as you sat across from your pa, both of you wrapped in the quiet warmth of the house. he was sipping his coffee slowly, his gaze flicking to you over the rim of his mug with that familiar, soft smile.

mornings with him were usually quiet, a calm routine of eggs, bacon, and the occasional weathered joke about the new mayor or murphy.

but today, he looked at you with a different kind of mischief.

“so,” he started, drawing out the word as he reached for his mug, “i hear whispers that young love might be in the air.”

you choked a little on your toast, shooting him a look. “what’re you talking about, old man?”

he shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “oh, nothing. just that i’ve seen you two running around a lot more lately. seems like every time i look outside, you’re showing minji how to fix up the old truck, or you’re off to murphy’s together. ‘bout time you made a girlfriend, don’t you think?”

“minji’s not…i mean, she’s just…” you felt the heat creeping up your neck and ducked your head, focusing on your plate. “it’s nothing like that.”

“mmhm,” he hummed, watching you over the rim of his cup. his eyes crinkled in a way that suggested he didn’t believe you at all. “nothing like that. you know, i wasn’t born yesterday, kid. i know the look of young love when i see it. and i see it whenever she’s around.”

fidgeting with the handle of your coffee mugc you shifted in your seat. “we’re just friends, pa. it’s not…it’s not like that.”

“well, friend or not,” he continued, his voice softening. “i’m glad you’ve got her. this town can be small and stifling. finding someone who makes it feel a little bigger, a little brighter? that’s special.” he leaned forward, his expression gentler now, serious. “and if it’s more than that? well, that’s okay too.”

you were quiet for a long moment, letting his words sink in. your pa, who you’d thought would be the first to disapprove if he ever caught wind of anything between you and another girl, was sitting here telling you it was okay. telling you he saw something good in it.

“and even if we were dating…it’s not like folks around here would accept it,” you finally admitted.

he nodded, considering this. “you’re right. people here can be set in their ways. but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and so does minji from what i’ve seen. besides, the world’s changing. more than you might think.” he reached out and gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “sometimes, you just have to carve out your own happiness, no matter where you are.”

you looked down at his hand over yours, feeling a sense of warmth and support that made your chest ache.

“you really think it could work?” you asked softly, almost to yourself.

“why not?” he replied with a gentle smile. “you two look at each other like there’s no one else in the world. that’s rare, kid. don’t be so quick to brush it off. your ma would be proud if she were here.”

the idea of a future, of something real and tangible with minji, flickered in your mind, fragile and uncertain. it was a thought you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on before, too afraid of what it would mean. hearing your dad’s quiet approval, his belief in something that had only been a whisper of hope in your own heart, made it feel…possible.

“so you’re seeing the town’s princess, huh?” he added with a smirk, breaking the serious moment and making you roll your eyes, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks again.

“i’m not talking about this with you, old man,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

just then, the screen door creaked open, and you glanced up to see minji standing on the porch, her hand raised in a tentative wave.

“speak of the devil again,” he said under his breath, giving you a knowing look before he stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. “morning, minji,” he greeted her, tipping his hat as he passed by. “got errands to run with your da today.”

as he disappeared into the other room, she stepped inside, flashing you a bright smile that only made your stomach twist further.

“hey,” she greeted, glancing between you and the door your dad had just exited from. “everything okay?”

you nodded, forcing yourself to return her smile. “yeah, everything’s good.”

later that afternoon — the fields were quiet, bathed in the soft amber of the setting sun, the sky stretching out wide and endless above you two.

you lied beside each other on the blanket, surrounded by wildflowers and the tall grass, nothing but the sounds of the distant crickets and the soft whisper of the wind between you. it was your secret spot, the one place in the whole world where you felt like nothing else mattered.

minji was on her back, gazing up at the sky with that faraway look she sometimes got, the one that told you she was somewhere else, imagining bigger things beyond the town limits.

you turned to watch her, the golden light casting a glow over her features, her expression open and hopeful in a way she rarely let anyone see. “you’re beautiful, you know that?”

she chuckled, tilting her head in your direction. “says you.”

then the silence returned — she was in deep thought again.

“baby, have you ever thought about it?” she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet, her voice gentle but filled with something electric. “leaving this place? just…going somewhere new, somewhere no one knows us?”

you let out a small, thoughtful hum, your eyes tracing the lines of her face. “not really. i mean, this is home. pa’s here. everything i know is here.”

“yeah, but there’s so much more out there,” she said, a glint of excitement in her eyes as she turned to you, propping herself up on one elbow. “the city is full of things we can’t even imagine. places to see, people who’d never think twice about…us.”

“and what do you imagine?” you asked softly, feeling your heart quicken at the way she was looking at you.

her lips curved into a small smile, her eyes bright with a dreamy sort of wonder. “i imagine living in a tiny apartment where you can see the city lights from the windows. going to diners at midnight, meeting new people, exploring places no one’s heard of. and not having to hide who i am, or who i’m with.”

she reached out, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of your hand. “don’t you want that too?”

you sighed, glancing out over the fields, feeling a pang of longing you hadn’t even realised was there. “perhaps. i mean, i like it here. it’s…safe, you know? sure, it’s not perfect but it’s home.”

she fell quiet for a moment, her fingers still tracing patterns on your skin and then she leaned closer, her voice soft and persuasive. “but what if we could make a new home?”

you closed your eyes, her words wrapping around you like a promise. you’d always thought you’d stay here, grow old in the same town but the way she spoke, with such certainty, made you wonder if there could be something more — something that didn’t have to end with this field, this town, this life.

“it’s a lot to ask,” you murmured, opening your eyes to find her watching you, hope flickering in her gaze.

“i know,” she whispered, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering against your cheek. “but maybe we could try.”

“you don’t even know what it’s like out there, darling. the city isn’t…it’s not a fairy tale.”

“maybe it’s not,” she replied, her voice steady, resolute. “but i’d rather find out with you than stay here wondering. don’t you ever wonder?”

you looked at her, the conviction in her eyes making your chest tighten. “i do wonder. sometimes,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “but i’m scared. what if it’s too much? what if we…lose ourselves?”

she squeezed your hand, her gaze unwavering. “we won’t. we’ll have each other. that’s all we’ll need.”

and in that moment, you believed her. because if there was anyone who could make the world feel manageable, even the vast unknown of the city, it was her and her alone.

“you know,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips, “for you, i’d probably do anything.”

her smile softened, a trace of something bittersweet in her eyes. “then come with me. let’s get out of here, together. i don’t want to look back and regret never taking a chance on this. on us.”

you looked away, toward the horizon, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. “i’d miss him. my pa, your parents, murphy…mrs. kim, jimin.”

she nodded, her hand still wrapped around yours. “i know. and he’d miss you too, but we’ll visit every weekend. it’s only a plane ride away.”

you thought about the way your pa had looked at you, the way he’d smiled when he saw you with minji. you looked back at her, feeling the resolve harden in your chest, a quiet courage you hadn’t known you had. “yeah. yeah, we will.”

she grinned, the joy in her expression contagious. “then let’s do it, y/n. let’s plan it out. save up, make it happen. we’ll find a way.”

and as the sun sank lower, you lie back in the grass beside her, letting yourself dream about a life where you didn’t have to hide. and you knew, deep down, that as long as minji was beside you, you’d be willing to try.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was a gradual thing at first, barely noticeable in the beginning. one day, minji’s texts were just a little shorter, her replies a bit slower. maybe she had a lot on her mind, you’d told yourself.

she had college applications and cheer practice and her family always had a thousand expectations. it wasn’t like she had to be by your side every second.

soon, the changes grew harder to ignore. from giving you lunches to none at all — she’d even take a spot further from your table, putting herself at a subtle distance. at parties or the diner, she’d laugh a little too loudly with her friends, her eyes skimming over you like you were just another familiar face in the crowd. her laughter, once soft and shared between the two of you, had become louder and brighter around others.

she was trying too hard, and that hurt more than anything.

and when you’d walk to school, she’d trail a few steps behind you, enough that it seemed like she wasn’t with you at all. every time she pulled back, it was like a small tear in something you hadn’t realised was stitched so deeply into your chest.

“everything okay, baby?” you’d asked one afternoon as you leaned against the locker next to hers, catching her alone for the first time in days.

she’d barely looked at you, her eyes flickering around the crowded hallway as if someone might see the two of you standing so close.

“yeah fine,” she replied too quickly, her voice light but hollow. “just busy. you know how it is.��

“righto,” you tried to keep the hurt out of your voice, shoving your hands into your pockets as you looked at her, trying to read her expression but her stare remained fixed on anything but you. “you’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

she hesitated, and for a brief second, the mask slipped. you saw the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty, but just as quickly, she hid it behind a bright smile. “of course, my love. there’s nothing wrong.”

she didn’t walk with you that day, catching a lift with one of the girls. and when you saw her with her friends, she barely acknowledged your presence. each day, it felt like you were losing pieces of her, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

another day, you’d been at murphy’s with her, sneaking glances at her from across the table as she sat with her arms crossed, tense. you tried to keep things light, talking about the old regulars who always had the same orders, the way murphy’s experimental pies could probably kill a man with one bite.

she’d laughed, but it was strained, and her eyes kept darting to the door, watching every person who walked in, as if terrified that someone might see the two of you together.

“are you…embarrassed to be seen with me now?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. it was softer than you’d intended, almost a whisper.

her face fell, and she shook her head quickly, reaching out before pulling her hand back as if she couldn’t bear to be caught touching you. “no, it’s not like that.”

“then what is it?” you pressed, leaning forward, heart pounding. “i don’t understand. we were fine a few weeks ago, and now…you barely look at me.”

she glanced around, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “people are starting to notice,” she whispered, eyes dropping to the table. “they’re… they’re talking, y/n. i heard some girls in my class say they saw us holding hands at the lake. and god, if people figure it out —“

“so what if they do?” your voice was harsher than you’d intended, frustration and hurt boiling over. “let them talk, minji. who cares? you said we were going to work through it together.”

“you don’t get it,” she snapped back, eyes flashing with something like fear. “you know what kind of town this is.”

you fell silent, her words cutting deep, the reality of what rhodes could be crashing down around you. it didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the feeling that she was slipping away, bit by bit.

“i just…i just need some space,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s not forever, y/n. just until things calm down.”

you nodded, trying to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment. “yeah, space. if that’s what you need.”

she gave you a small, apologetic smile, but it felt like a thousand miles were stretching between you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the morning sun filtered through your window as you adjusted your cap, tossing a few stray strands of hair under it. it was time to get back to your routine. you had thrown yourself into fixing trucks once again, focusing on the familiar sound of tools clanging and engines revving rather than the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed you since the fight with minji.

you spent the day working on a 73’ mustang in the garage, hands greasy and your mind occupied with the rhythm of tightening bolts and checking fluids.

when you heard laughter coming from the living room, you paused, wiping your hands on a rag and leaning against the doorframe.

minji’s parents were over, visiting your pa, and you could hear their chatter echoing through the house. your heart sank as you strained to hear her name amidst the laughter.

“she’s been spending a lot of time with sunoo lately,” her ma said, her voice full of casual concern. “i hope she’s not getting too serious with him. that boy is trouble.”

it felt like the ground had dropped beneath you, an ache rising from the pit of your stomach. you’d been giving her space, hoping it was what she needed to make sense of everything, hoping she’d come back. but hearing she’d gone out with someone else — it hurt more than you wanted to admit, more than you were prepared for.

“y/n!” she noticed you walk in, a big smile on her face. “look at you working hard — going to open up a shop like your pa, aren’t you?”

“no, she’s moving to the city with minji, aren’t ya?” her dad laughing, elbowing yours jokingly. “that’s if this old man lets her go.”

“if she asks nicely,” your pa responded with a teasing smile. “with minji.”

“nonsense, y/n will run this town one day,” she dismissed her husband.

“one day, ma’am,” you replied politely as you ducked your head. “i have to grab something from the back — i’ll leave you old folks to it.”

later that morning, you slipped back into your room quietly, not wanting anyone to see the way your face had tightened with barely-contained hurt. a few minutes later, there was a knock on your door.

“kiddo?” your dad’s voice was gentle. he stepped inside, giving you a long look, and you could feel him taking in the tension in your shoulders, the slight clench in your jaw. “you alright?”

you nodded, brushing him off with a forced smile, though you knew he wasn’t fooled. “yeah, just tired. lot of work on the mustang today.”

he sighed, settling into the chair by your desk. “i know things have been…complicated lately. if you ever want to talk, i’m here.”

you swallowed, feeling the weight of his kindness, but all you managed was another nod, the words you wanted to say too tangled to even begin to unravel. he patted your shoulder once, his touch reassuring, and left you with your thoughts.

you shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you threw your cap onto the bed. “yeah, just tired.”

he stepped closer, his voice softening. “you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

“it’s nothing, really,” you said quickly, trying to dismiss his concern. “just…school stuff.”

after studying you for a moment, you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “you know, when your ma and i used to have arguments — i was the same.”

you forced a smile, but it felt hollow. “i’ll be fine, dad. really.”

with a reluctant nod, he left you to your thoughts. but his words lingered, echoing in your mind, and you found yourself thinking of minji, of the way her laughter used to feel like home.

the next morning, you decided to change your routine. you started leaving for school earlier than minji, avoiding the moments you used to cherish.

this time, you rolled up the blue mustang you had been working on for weeks. it gleamed in the sunlight, the chrome reflecting the admiration of your classmates as they gathered around, whispering and pointing. you could feel the admiration but it didn’t fill the void left by minji’s absence.

for days, you kept this routine, ignoring her glances, her quiet attempts to catch your eye. the tables were turning, and even when you found small notes tucked into your locker or slipped between your books, you left them untouched, the sight of her familiar handwriting too much to face.

the hurt simmered, mingling with an anger you hadn’t expected — anger that you’d let yourself believe things could be different.

during lunch, you sat at the back of the cafeteria with mina and jimin, trying to engage in a thoughtful conversation.

“so, are you gonna drive jimin and i around town?” mina asked, half-joking. “dad saw it this morning and messaged me to ask you if he could buy it.”

“maybe,” you chuckled. “i don’t know if i can let go of these cars yet.”

“that’s why you don’t got a woman,” she rolled her eyes at you playfully.

“hey!” you slapped her hand off your redbull. “leave me alone, just cause you have boys lined up in your texts.”

you could feel minji’s eyes on you, the hurt and confusion etched into her features as she watched you laugh and joke with another girl — since when did mina even sit with you and jimin?

the pit in your stomach deepened as you noticed her brow furrow, an annoyed look crossing her face as she turned to hanni and danielle.

when you quietly walked with jimin to history class, he gave you a long look before speaking.

“you know, everyone’s been talking about the car,” he started with a smile, then softened as he took in your expression. “but i think there’s something more you’re not telling me.”

you hummed, trying to wave him off, but he just gave you that knowing look. “y/n, it’s okay. whatever’s going on between you and minji…i’ve always noticed. and i’m not here to judge.

you blinked, surprised. you hadn’t expected anyone to know, least of all jimin, and definitely not for him to look at you with nothing but love and understanding.

“i’ve always known,” he continued gently, “and if you’re worried about people finding out, don’t be. no one who matters will care about that. and you shouldn’t either.”

his words sank in, easing the knot that had been twisting in your chest for days. you sighed, finally letting the mask drop for a moment. “it’s just complicated. she got worried and now…”

he nodded. “sometimes people need to figure things out for themselves, but it doesn’t mean they don’t care. maybe give her a chance to explain.”

the confession hung in the air between you, and your heart raced. “it’s not that simple,” you finally said, frustration leaking into your voice. “i heard she was going out with that asshole sunoo, but she said she only needed space.

“right, but i’ve seen her slip notes in your locker, you should stop ignoring her,” he urged, his eyes earnest.

running a hand through your hair, you sighed. “maybe it’s for the best, that we don’t talk.”

“or maybe you just need to work things out. if it doesn’t go well, at least you’ll know.”

his words lingered in your mind long after he left, weighing heavily on your conscience. that evening, as you sat on your bed, staring at the ceiling, you realized that you couldn’t keep running away from minji.

the next morning, you decided to walk to school like usual when you see her standing just outside your gate, her arms wrapped around herself like she was bracing for something. she looked up as you approached, her expression a mix of nervousness and apology, her gaze hopeful but uncertain.

“can we talk?” her voice was soft, almost hesitant.

you nodded, leading her over to the side of the house, away from any prying eyes. the silence stretched between you, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking a little. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just got scared. scared of everyone noticing, of what they’d think, of…us.”

you looked away, the hurt still fresh. “so you went out with sunoo?”

her face fell. “it’s not what you think. i was out with hanni and danielle. i told my parents i was with sunoo because i didn’t want them to think we were dating.”

you took a shaky breath, looking down at her, and the words spilled out before you could stop them. “so you pushed me away just because your folks noticed?”

she took a step closer, her hand reaching for yours, her touch gentle. “because i was scared. i didn’t know how to handle this, handle…us. but i’m not scared anymore. i don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

her words settled between you, softening the edges of your hurt. she squeezed your hand, her gaze unwavering, and for the first time in days, you let yourself believe her.

you pulled her into a hug, burying your face in her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around you, holding on like she was afraid you might slip away:

“don’t pull away again,” you murmured against her hair, the words a plea as much as a promise.

she nodded, her voice a whisper in the quiet. “i won’t. not ever again.”

as you stood there, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the promise of a future that felt just within reach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the weeks drifted by, and while things were back to a tentative normal between you and minji, you could still feel the hesitation beneath her smiles and laughter. she was there with you, present and warm but some part of her held back, like she was testing the waters but ready to pull back at any moment.

whenever you sensed it, you held your tongue, deciding to give her the space to come to you in her own time. you both kept your routines — trips to murphy’s, teasing mrs. kim until she would roll her eyes and tell you to stop distracting her. you’d sit in your usual booth, sharing fries and stories of the day, filling the air between you with a comfort that kept you going.

as the end of senior year crept closer, word spread about a big party at taehyung’s house to celebrate. when mina and jimin brought it up at lunch, your first instinct was to turn it down. you knew minji would be there, but something held you back from wanting to be part of the crowd.

“come on, y/n, it’ll be fun,” mina nudged, her grin contagious. “you’ve been working too hard on those trucks. you deserve a night to let loose!”

jimin, sitting across from you, chimed in with his usual calm encouragement. “plus, it’s one of the last times we’ll all be together like this. just for a few hours?”

after a bit of convincing, you finally sighed, “alright, fine. but if it gets too much, i’m leaving early.”

the night felt heavy with the anticipation of summer as you stepped into taehyung’s backyard, which was buzzing with energy. lights were strung up from tree branches, and music poured from a speaker on the porch, filling the air with a low, steady beat. people laughed and shouted around you, all in a celebratory mood as if they could already taste graduation in the air.

mina and jimin led the way, pulling you toward a quieter spot just beyond the bonfire. a large group had gathered but you found some space with your friends around a patio table set up under the stars.

minji’s presence across the yard kept tugging at you. she looked effortlessly pretty, caught up in animated conversation with hanni and danielle.

her laughter floated through the crowd, and every time she tilted her head to toss her hair back, it felt like your heart skipped a beat.

as you sat with jimin and mina, your attention was pulled back to their laughter and light teasing. you tried to let their words drown out the ache, listening as they joked about plans after high school.

“so, what’s next for you two?” mina grinned, leaning forward with a sparkle in her eyes. “i mean, please tell me you’re both sticking around?”

“definitely,” jimin nodded, his expression easy and relaxed as he took a sip out of his wine bottle. “my uncle’s got a job lined up for me at his mill. it’s nothing fancy, but it’s good work.”

you smiled at him, grateful to hear the certainty in his voice. “sounds like you’re gonna be the nepo baby of that mill.”

“hey,” he laughed, shrugging as he nodded his head at mina. “what about you?”

mina shrugged, looking out at the yard. “i’m probably helping out at my parents’ restaurant. not exactly glamorous, but i don’t mind. plus, i’ll be around to keep you two in line!” she shot you a teasing look, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

the conversation shifted as minji, hanni, and danielle made their way over, pulling up seats around the table. it didn’t take long for the topic to extend beyond the girls.

“so, what about you, minji?” jimin asked, a faint curiosity in his tone. “you’ve got big plans, i bet?”

minji’s eyes lit up, her excitement unmistakable. “i’m planning to head to seattle. there’s a really great law program there and my mum already knows people who could help me get an internship. it’ll be…different, you know?” she looked around, her gaze lingering on each of you, but it felt like she was already somewhere else, looking past the small town lights and imagining herself far away.

you forced a smile, nodding along, even though the thought of her moving on without you gnawed at you. you were proud of her, but it was bittersweet. “that sounds amazing, minji. i’m sure you’ll do great.”

for a moment, she looked at you, a flicker of something in her eyes. you couldn’t quite place it, but it made your chest tighten, as if she wanted to reach out but held back.

then, just as quickly, she looked away, her attention drawn to danielle talking about how her family needed her help with their farm and hanni mentioning the fishing company just on the outskirts of town.

“so…am i the only one leaving?” minji asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

mina chuckled, shrugging. “yup. the rest of us are staying. small-town life isn’t so bad, right?”

“well, taehyung, sunoo — those football boys have big plans outside of rhodes too, so it’ll be alright, don’t worry about us,” danielle tried to cheer her up at the sight of her frown.

she smiled, but there was a sadness to it, like she was caught between wanting to stay and feeling like she had to go. you wished you could reach across the table and tell her it didn’t matter where she went — you’d always be there for her, but you stayed silent, not wanting to disrupt the delicate balance you both shared.

“what about you though, y/n?” hanni asked. “i thought i heard your pa mention you were probably moving to the city.”

you shook your head, gently throwing sticks at the fire. “i don’t think i’ve ever mentioned that to him - s’ppose he’s just assuming i’ll try for an apprenticeship somewhere.”

“you’re not?” minji’s frown deepened, but quickly tried to mask it with a joke. “i mean…you could try for seattle with me.”

“i like rhodes,” you muttered, refusing to look at her. “perhaps, one day, but i don’t see any reason to leave now.”

before the silence could settle too long, taehyung stumbled over, clearly tipsy, with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “alright, truth or dare time!” he slurred, eyes zeroing in on minji. “you in?”

minji, slightly emboldened by her drink, smirked. “dare. give me your best shot.”

minji, ever the bold one, smirked. “dare. bring it on.”

taehyung’s grin widened. “alright, i dare you to kiss my boy sunoo for five seconds!”

the table burst into laughter and shouts, some cheering her on while others shook their heads.

but you felt a strange pang in your chest, a mix of anxiety and dread as minji glanced in your direction. her eyes met yours, and you could see the hesitation there, the silent apology in the way she looked at you, as if she knew this would hurt. but then, with a resigned sigh, she turned and walked toward sunoo, accepting the dare.

you tried to steel yourself, focusing on anything but them, but it was impossible to ignore the crowd’s excited cheers, the way the laughter grew louder. you watched as she leaned in and kissed him by surprise, and in that moment, something between you broke.

“you alright?” jimin leaned over, his voice gentle amidst the noise. “you know she loves you, right?”

“i don’t know if i believe that,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended.

minji laughed with everyone else, her face flushed from the alcohol, the warmth of the fire flickering in her eyes. it was weird, seeing her like this — untouchable, almost a stranger.

after the dare, an uncomfortable tension clung to the air between you. every time you tried to meet her gaze, she looked away, hiding behind the laughter of her friends.

you wanted to let it go, to shrug it off as a stupid dare that didn’t mean anything, but the image of her kissing sunoo stuck in your mind like a thorn. it wasn’t the kiss itself; it was the way she’d looked at you right before she did it, like she knew exactly how much it would hurt.

she knew, and she’d done it anyway.

the whole night felt like it was slipping out of your control and you desperately tried to ignore minji. every glance from her felt sharper, colder, and when you caught her eye again, she just rolled her eyes and turned away, as if you were being unreasonable. the hurt started to twist into anger.

“hey y/n,” minji finally said, loud enough for the others to hear. “you look like you’re having a blast. didn’t know you were such a party animal.”

her words were laced with sarcasm, and a few people chuckled, though it felt forced.

“i’m just here for the company,” you replied, keeping your tone even - swallowing the retort that sat on the tip of your tongue. “some of it, at least.”

“really? why don’t you let loose and —“

“you don’t have to be like this, minji,” you cut her off, your voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t have to wear this mask all the time.”

“be like what?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow, her tone turning defensive. “it was just a kiss. you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend or something.”

the words landed like a slap. you clenched your fists, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing you lose control.

“you know what? forget it,” you muttered, standing up. “i don’t even know why i came here — have a good night everyone.” you turned to walk away, ignoring the glances and murmurs from your friends.

it was jimin who finally broke the silence after you left. “what’s going on between you two?”

danielle and hanni exchanged a look, each of them glancing toward minji, who suddenly looked uncomfortable, the smugness gone from her face. she shrugged, avoiding their gazes. “nothing’s going on. y/n’s just dramatic.”

they all saw through her, the way she fidgeted, the way her eyes darted toward the direction you’d gone, almost as if she were second-guessing herself.

“maybe you should apologise,” danielle suggested gently, nudging her. “it seemed like it really hurt her.”

“apologise for what?” minji shot back, but her voice had lost its edge. “it was just a stupid dare.”

“doesn’t seem like it was ‘just’ anything,” hanni said, her voice soft. “not to y/n, anyway.”

minji glanced down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. she could feel their eyes on her, and for the first time that night, the laughter and noise of the party faded into the background, leaving her alone with the uncomfortable feeling she’d been trying to ignore.

the cool night air hit your face as you stepped away from the party, heading for the quiet of your truck. each step felt heavier, the hurt and anger swirling together.

you opened the door to your truck, about to climb inside, when you heard the crunch of footsteps behind you. you didn’t need to turn around to know it was her.

minji stood there in silence, her face partly shadowed, looking hesitant but unwilling to let you leave. she climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

the air in the truck was thick, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the silence between you. the moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a pale glow over minji’s profile as she sat with her arms crossed, her expression hard, lips pressed into a thin line.

she was angry, but so were you, though you could feel it simmering low, contained, refusing to boil over the way it wanted to.

the way you both wanted it to, maybe.

you kept your eyes on the road, jaw clenched, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. in the corner of your eye, you saw her glance at you, her eyes narrowing when you didn’t turn to meet her gaze.

she shifted in her seat, her fingers drumming impatiently on her knee. “are you really not going to say anything?” her voice cut through the silence, sharp and demanding. it was more than a question — it was an accusation, as if your silence itself was a betrayal.

you felt her eyes on you, waiting for some kind of response, some kind of reaction. but you just kept driving, eyes fixed straight ahead, jaw set, trying to steady your breathing.

“what do you want me to say, minji?” you finally replied, voice low and steady, though you could feel the anger straining beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. you didn’t want to look at her, because you knew if you did, you wouldn’t be able to hold back.

she let out a scoff, shaking her head. “god, you’re so…frustrating. i kissed someone for a stupid dare and you’re acting like i did something terrible.”

you really tightened your grip on the wheel, knuckles turning white. “you knew what that would do to me,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper, the words laced with hurt you hadn’t meant to reveal. “you looked right at me and you did it anyway. in front of my friends.”

“it was just a kiss,” she snapped, her tone dismissive. “it didn’t mean anything.”

you swallowed, feeling the hurt settle heavy in your chest. “maybe it didn’t mean anything to you, but it sure as hell did to me,” you shook your head, finally allowing yourself to look at her, your gaze steady, unflinching. “i thought this meant something to you too. what we have, all of it.”

“don’t you dare put this on me,” she shot back, her voice growing louder, harsher. “you’re the one who can’t handle a party game.”

“this isn’t just about a party game, and you know it,” you said, voice barely controlled, trembling with the effort of holding back. “you hurt me. i know you’re scared, but you have nothing to prove to them. you don’t owe these folks anything —“

“yeah right,” she laughed bitterly, throwing her head back as she cut you off. “that’s what this is about. this stupid, small-minded town.” her voice dripped with disdain, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something cold and sharp in her eyes that you’d never seen before. “well, newsflash, y/n: maybe i’m tired of hiding. maybe i’m tired of sneaking around and pretending that this —”

“say it, minji,” you dared her when you see the hesitation in her eyes.

she gestured between the two of you, her expression hardened, “this isn’t what it really is.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the sting of betrayal mingling with the anger that had been simmering all night. “and what exactly do you think this is?” you paused, looking over at her. “because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’ll forever be ashamed of me.”

she didn’t reply right away, and the silence that followed was heavy, oppressive. she looked away, out the window, her jaw clenched, lips pressed together as if she was holding back something sharp, something cruel.

when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, colder. “maybe it’s not you i’m ashamed of, but the fact that i have to pretend this is even a real thing.”

the words cut deep, slicing through the fragile hope you’d been clinging to. you took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep the hurt from swallowing you whole.

“so that’s it then?” your voice broke slightly, but you forced yourself to keep going. “i’m just some…some phase for you? something to keep you entertained until you find someone who fits your perfect little picture?”

she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “don’t twist this around. you’re the one who’s always so serious, who never lets anything slide. i mean, look at you,” she gestured towards you, her expression almost mocking. she was too intoxicated, letting words she’d been thinking all along out of her mouth. “acting like this whole thing is some grand romance when really, it’s just…it’s just something that happened. something that shouldn’t even be happening.”

you felt your heart shatter, the pain too real, too raw — you expected to hear it from other people, but not her.

“if that’s how you really feel, then why did you even start this with me?” you asked, defeated, eyes stinging as you fought to keep the tears from spilling over. “why make me think, no, why make me believe that maybe we could be something real? you made all these fucking plans with me!”

she looked away again, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. “maybe i wanted to see what it felt like,” she said quietly, her tone devoid of warmth, of the softness that had once made you feel like you were the only person who mattered to her. “but i don’t think i can do this anymore. it’s…it’s too much.”

the words hung in the air, each one sinking into you like a weight, pulling you down into a well of hurt and betrayal. your breathing was shallow as you fought to keep yourself together.

“if it’s too much for you,” you said, your voice barely steady, “then maybe you should just get out of my fucking truck and out of my life.”

you didn’t mean for the words to come out so harshly, so final, but the pain was too much, too consuming to keep buried any longer as you stopped just outside of her house.

she looked at you, her eyes wide, almost shocked, as if she hadn’t expected you to push back. for a moment, she seemed lost for words, her lips parted slightly as she stared at you, something flickering in her stare that you couldn’t quite place as you pulled over two streets away from her house.

then, without another word, she reached for the door handle and climbed out, slamming the door shut behind her. you watched as she walked away, her silhouette disappearing into the night, the sound of her footsteps fading into the silence. the weight of her absence settled over you, a hollow ache filling the space where she’d been.

you stayed there for a long time, sitting alone in the truck, the emptiness swallowing you whole. you’d known, on some level, that it had always been fragile, that the love you’d built together was built on a foundation of secrecy and fear. but you’d hoped – god, you’d hoped that it could be something real.

that argument was the beginning of the end. there was no formal breakup, no final conversation. instead, there was silence – a painful, hollow quiet that replaced the laughter and stolen kisses. when you’d pass each other on the path or catch her gaze in class, all that remained was a shadow of what once was.

by the time graduation rolled around, minji was gone. she left town for college like she always said she would; moved away from the place that had both cradled and confined her.

life went on, as it always does. but some nights, when the world was quiet, you’d find yourself looking out at the road, half-expecting her to be there, waiting for you with that same, soft smile she’d given you all those years ago.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the familiar truck continued down the road, disappearing into the distance and you felt the weight of the moment settle over you like a heavy shroud. part of you had wondered, late at night when the world was quiet, what it would be like to see her again.

you’d imagined it in so many ways, but now that she was here, the reality felt more painful, like reopening a wound that had barely healed.

you nudged duke forward, resuming your path as if a brief glimpse of her hadn’t thrown your world off balance. you’d built a life here, a solid one filled with people you could count on and things you could control.

and minji, with her polished city clothes and her unfamiliar confidence, felt like a reminder of everything you’d once wanted to leave behind.

but you knew better. people left, that’s what they did, and you’d learned to carry on, even when it hurt. so you kept riding, eyes fixed on the road ahead as you turned towards home.

if only you could leave her memory behind.

it had taken years, but the garage was finally yours; a modest place, the kind that carried the scent of engine oil, worn leather and old, dusty tools handed down through generations. you’d started small, fixing up neighbours’ cars, trucks, the occasional tractor, and word had spread quickly in a town where people tended to hang on to things, even if they didn’t always work quite like they used to.

it wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but to you, it was everything — a place of your own, where you could pour yourself into work, let your hands keep busy and your mind focused on the quiet, familiar rhythm of repairing, restoring, and rebuilding.

it was a legacy, a continuation of the path your pa had set for you before he was gone.

after he passed, the garage became both a refuge and a reminder. he’d built this place from the ground up, had filled every corner with memories, with laughter, with the little lessons he’d taught you when you were still too small to hold a wrench properly.

now, it was yours alone, and that emptiness weighed on you like a shadow, even when you filled the space with the sound of clinking metal and the low hum of the radio.

some days, the silence grew too thick, too heavy to bear and that’s when you’d look up and find familiar faces showing up, as if they knew you needed them without you ever saying a word.

jimin was one of the first to start coming around. he was a friend who’d been there through it all, the good and the bad, someone you could count on without question. he’d always swing by after work, shrugging out of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves to lend a hand, his jokes filling the quiet spaces you couldn’t quite bring yourself to break. he was steady, like the tools on your workbench ��reliable, unassuming, and never in a rush to leave, always lingering a little longer, making sure you were okay before he headed out.

then there was mina; popular and easygoing, but she’d stayed around town, unlike so many others. sometimes, she’d show up with a little bag of homemade pastries or the restaurant’s leftovers, claiming she had “extras” but always pressing them into your hands, eyes a little too soft, a little too knowing. she’d bring along her own car troubles too — things you suspected weren’t even that urgent — just so she’d have an excuse to hang around, helping with small tasks, keeping you company on those long, quiet afternoons.

danielle would come by, too, cheerful as ever, dropping off fresh fruits from her family’s farm. she’d place the basket down with a grin, insisting you take more than you needed, saying you had to stay healthy to keep the shop running. her laughter filled the garage, bringing a brightness that seemed to cut through the gloom. you’d find yourself laughing with her sometimes, even on the hardest days, grateful for her boundless energy, for the way she always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t say it.

hanni, haerin, and hyein were more like a trio of mischievous siblings (even though they were just neighbours), popping by whenever they felt like it, always claiming they were there to “help,” though you knew better. they’d come under the pretense of lending a hand, but more often than not, they’d be perched on your workbench or leaning against the open garage door, teasing you, nudging you to take breaks. hanni, would try to be serious, her sharp humor balancing out her kindness, while haerin would poke at your tools, asking questions about engines and oil, her curiosity both a help and a hindrance. hyein, the youngest, mostly just wanted to be around you all, wide-eyed and eager, trailing behind her older friends like a loyal shadow.

their visits had become a routine, a way to fill the space your pa had left behind, a way to keep you tethered to the world outside your own thoughts. they never mentioned minji or him. they’d remind you of simpler times, of the days when the garage was filled with laughter and your pa’s steady voice guiding you, his hand on your shoulder as you learned to tighten a bolt or change a tire.

you’d watch them joke and chatter, and for a moment, it was almost like he was still there, watching over you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was one of those clear evenings, the kind that settled in with a comfortable chill once the sun dropped behind the hills. the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering glow across the room, and the soft murmur of voices filled the cozy space.

you’d gathered everyone for dinner, an impromptu plan that had somehow grown into a tradition — a way to fill the quiet of your home, the emptiness that seemed to linger ever since.

mina, jimin, danielle, haerin, and hyein had all shown up with bottles of wine, dishes wrapped in foil, and enough energy to keep the house feeling alive. you’d done your best to clear off the table, moving aside spare bolts and tools, making room for the laughter and conversation that had been sorely missed.

the smell of dinner mingled with the wood smoke from the fire, filling the house with an almost nostalgic warmth.

as the night wore on, the conversation turned, naturally, to the topic you’d been bracing yourself for — minji.

“weren’t you ladies with her at murphy’s the other night?” mina said, glancing around the room, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “she looked, different. polished, but, like…still minji.”

murphy’s. after your pa passed, you hadn’t found the heart to go back. the place had started to feel hollow, too full of memories that were just a little too close, a little too painful to face.

danielle chimed in, nodding eagerly. “yeah, she looked good. better than good, honestly.” her voice took on a slightly teasing tone as she gave you a sidelong look, as if waiting for a reaction.

you stayed quiet, watching the flames dance, their glow reflecting off the glasses set on the table. you could feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken curiosity hanging in the air.

then all knew — everyone in town had known, even if it wasn’t spoken out loud, and with minji back, those old stories were beginning to stir up again.

“she’s a top lawyer now,” hanni added, swirling her drink thoughtfully. “one of the best in the country, from what i hear. apparently, she’s only here for the summer, staying to help her dad with the estate and everything.”

jimin leaned back, eyebrows raised. “top lawyer, huh? guess that makes sense.”

“yeah, remember her talking about all the things she wanted to do?” haerin said, her voice wistful. “back in high school, she used to say she wanted to change the world or something like that. and now look at her.”

there was a murmur of agreement, a mix of pride and wonder in the air, as if everyone in that room felt a little piece of ownership over her success.

a part of you couldn’t help but remember those late-night talks, the quiet moments when she’d let her guard down, telling you about the things she wanted, the dreams she couldn’t quite share with anyone else. she’d always had that fire, that need to be something bigger, to leave her mark on the world.

“i’m proud of her,” you smiled, although bittersweet. “but she didn’t have to what she did.”

they all fell silent for a moment, their glances shifting to you, sensing something unspoken in the air. you could tell they wanted to ask, to know what it felt like for you to see her again after all these years. no one said it out loud, respecting the quiet way you kept yourself guarded, the way you stayed just a little apart from the conversation, even as you listened intently.

“it’s weird,” danielle said softly, her gaze warm as it lingered on you. “her coming back, i mean. like we’re all sort of older, different, but somehow still stuck here.”

“speak for yourself,” jimin grinned, nudging her with his elbow. “i’m thriving, thank you very much.”

they laughed, breaking the tension, and you managed a small smile, grateful for the ease they brought into the room, for the way they tried to keep things light, even if the weight of the past lingered in the spaces between the words.

as the conversation shifted to other things; haerin’s new job, hyein’s plans to travel, jimin’s latest attempt at dating — you found yourself half-listening, lost in the memories that had resurfaced with minji’s return.

they stayed late, laughter and soft conversation filled the room, each of them lingering, as if they knew you needed them there. and when the night finally wound to a close, when the last bottle was empty and the plates were cleared, you found yourself alone again, silence settling over the house like a familiar weight.

this time, it felt like something had been stirred, like minji’s presence had reignited a part of you you’d tried so hard to bury. and as you sat there, watching the dying embers glow faintly in the hearth, you couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you had been waiting for this moment all along.

the living room was dimly lit, you sat there, nursing a bottle of whiskey, lost in thoughts that never seemed to find closure. the ache of loss hung in the air, mingling with the scent of wood smoke and worn leather from the couch.

the shadows from the dying fire flickered against the walls, casting a warm, ghostly glow over the photos of you and your pa. your gaze lingered on one picture — faded, creased at the edges — of you both standing by his 88’ ford, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his face lit up in a laugh. it felt like a lifetime ago.

outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows slightly; a soft reminder of just how quiet and isolated your life had become.

the knock at the door was gentle, uncertain, as if the person on the other side was almost afraid to disturb you. you exhaled slowly, pulling yourself up and crossing the room to answer it — half hoping it wasn’t a neighbour or even an old friend needing a favour.

what you weren’t prepared for was seeing minji stand there, eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression raw and vulnerable in a way that took you back to simpler days.

“hey,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice breaking the silence. “can i come in?”

you held her gaze for a long moment, your heart warring with itself. part of you wanted to shut the door, to protect yourself from whatever mess might follow. the other part, softer and rooted in all the kindness he had taught you, couldn’t do that.

stepping aside to let her in, you nodded, even though every nerve felt on edge.

the silence settled thickly between you both as she took in the room, eyes skimming over the quiet remnants of the life you’d built after she left. she glanced at the half-empty bottle of whiskey, then at the photos on the wall.

“i’m so sorry,” she said, looking down at her feet, as if the weight of the words was too heavy for her to meet your gaze. “no one told me…about your pa. i didn’t know.”

the pain in her voice was real, but you couldn’t let yourself soften just yet. you crossed your arms over your chest, glancing away, feeling the familiar sting in your throat.

“he was here one day, gone the next,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper. “he’d been fine. we were working together in the shop, laughing over something stupid, and then…then he was gone.”

the ache in your chest sharpened as you spoke, the whiskey doing little to dull the edges of grief. “i try to tell myself that maybe he’s with ma now. that they’re together, wherever they are — it’s the only thing that gives me any kind of peace these days.”

her shoulders sagged as if the weight of your words had settled on her too. she looked up at you, eyes shimmering with tears that she made no attempt to hide. “i’m so, so sorry, y/n,” she repeated, voice breaking. “i should’ve been here. i should’ve known, or at least tried to be there for you somehow.”

you held her gaze, fighting the urge to reach out, to pull her into a hug the way you would’ve years ago, but space between you too had grown wider over time.

“it’s a little late for that,” you murmured, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “you left me without a word, told me what we had was a phase.”

she winced, nodding slowly, accepting the hurt behind your words. “you’re right,” she said softly. “leaving you was the hardest thing i ever did and i wish i could take back every hurtful thing i said that.”

“seemed pretty easy,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “leaving me behind and all that.”

she shook her head, biting her lip as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “it wasn’t easy, y/n. it tore me up but i thought you’d be better off without me after everything i put you through.”

you looked at her, and for a moment, the memories of all those nights you’d spent together, sneaking around the town, feeling like the only two people in the world, flashed through your mind.

“i did love you, minji,” you said finally, each word coming out slow, deliberate. “and for a long time, i thought that was enough. people change. things change. that phase of my life…it’s over now.”

the words seemed to hit her like a physical blow. she looked down, a shaky breath escaping her as she tried to keep her composure.

“i know,” she whispered. “i guess i just…just wanted you to know how sorry i am. for everything. for leaving, for not coming back sooner, for being too afraid to face everything i left behind.”

you nodded, feeling the weight of her words but knowing there was no going back, no undoing the years you’d both lived without each other. “thanks for saying that,” you murmured. “it doesn’t change things, but…it helps.”

she nodded, feeling defeated. “thank you for hearing me out - i know you didn’t have to.

you nodded, offering her a faint, bittersweet smile. “it’s what the old man would have wanted. he always had a soft spot for you.”

a sad smile crossed her lips, and she looked down, the weight of lost time pressing heavily between you both. she reached out, hesitated, then withdrew her hand, knowing there was nothing left to be said.

you walked her towards the porch, the silence between you now comfortable in its own way, a quiet kind of closure. as she turned to leave, she glanced back one last time, her eyes lingering on you with an expression that seemed to carry all the regret and love of years past.

as the door closed behind her, you exhaled, feeling the finality of it all. you knew that, somehow, you’d finally let her go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

I'll Send an SOS to Your Heart

-------

"Ok, I'm imagining things."

Steve is laying on his bed watching his lights flicker.

He plugged in one of those space projectors that's supposed to make your ceiling look like the night sky.

It's not weird that they're flickering, the light was a dollar at Melvads he wasn't expecting it to work long.

The weird part is that the stars keep making a heart shape.

He sees the heart flash a couple of times before he flips over and hides deeper into his pillow.

"No." He groans. "No more upside down shit."

If some upside-down monster was flirting with him he quits.

All the lights in his room surge to maximum brightness.

"Fuck off."

The lights draw a middle finger.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" He jumps out of bed and points at the orbs.

It draws a winky face. (;P)

"Who are you?"

His blood runs cold. An upside down monster can't flirt with him. They don't know English. He has an idea but it can't be true.

They left him there. He's dead.

...isn't he?

'SOS' the lights read.

"Fuck." Tears spring to his eyes. "Eddie?"

'Hiya'

-----

He spends a while talking to Eddie.

It's tough.

It takes a while to write everything out and Steve is still trying not to hyperventilate or cry or pass out so it's taking a lot of energy to keep up the conversation.

'Sleep?'

"No."

'?'

"Nothing I'm just...not tired."

'Liar'

"WHAT! I'm not I just-"

'-_-'

"Fine."

':)'

"I'm scared."

'Me?'

"No, I'm scared this is a dream. That I fell asleep hours ago and I made you out of my guilty conscious. I just don't want to lose you...again."

'Back'

"Back?"

'Bring back'

"Bring...you back?"

'YES'

"You think we can bring you back?"

'Plan'

"Yes! I'll call everyone we can figure it out. Oh! We have El to help us this time! You're gonna love her Eds she's just like the kids you look out for and she's magic! I'll call them right-"

'NO'

"No?"

'tom- sleep now'

"I think this is a little more important than-"

'Sleep <3'

Steve looks over at the clock, 4 am.

Shit.

"Ok. I'm going to sleep. Will you...will you be here in the morning?"

'W STEVIE'

"Ok. Goodnight Eddie."

'GN <3'

----

The plan goes off without a hitch.

It takes them about two weeks to formulate and execute the plan.

Steve spends his days and nights talking to Eddie, keeping him updated. Keeping him in his life.

He speed runs a crisis or two when he realizes he wants to spend the remainder of his days speaking to Eddie.

He can't wait until he's here with him.

Alive.

-----

So it's more complicated than he thought.

Maybe there's a hoard or bats blocking them from Eddie.

Maybe Steve throws himself in front of the kids and fights off the creatures long enough for them to find Eddie and get him back home.

Maybe Steve bleeds a little too much and collapsed as soon as they reach the other side.

----

He wakes in the hospital to nine pairs of eyes staring at him.

They're all arguing with each other. Their voices low as if they're trying not to wake them.

He wants to talk he wants to reach out.

Eddie is standing by the door in a baseball cap and sunglasses as if he was trying to be inconspicuous.

As if Eddie could ever hide from Steve. Steve would find him anywhere he is.

God, he's here! He's in the room! All this time apart and he's so close!

"Mphahhpsh" he can't form words but it doesn't matter.

Everyone stops and Eddie's eyes meet his. His eyes look wet and he looks skinny and exhausted.

He's never looked more beautiful.

Eddie's eyes turn down into a determined glare. He pushes past everyone until he's inches away from Steve.

He takes a deep breath and then leans down and kisses him.

Flat on the mouth. In front of everyone.

The shocked noises are what pulls them apart.

"I'm so happy to see you, I really like you," Steve says.

"That's my line." Eddie smiles and kisses him again.

"Don't ever try to save me again I can't ever see you in a hospital again," Eddie presses their noses together.

"That's my line."

Eddie chuckles and pushes his nose into Steve's cheek. "Dork."

"Yes, yes, you're both terrible. Now what the fuck is happening."

They break apart to see the crews shocked faces. Mike's face is pale and Dustin is an interesting shade of red.

Robin is staring at him a little proud.

He sends a wink her way and pulls Eddie in closer.

They'll figure it all out later. They have time.

----

This started with once sentence in my brain and grew into three different plot points I put together in a rush. :P

Please comment I love to read em!

[sorryimananti-romantic]

HAHA YES WELCOME BABES HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR STAY GJFHKDG

not you roasting joong and praising his leadership in one breath fdkghdffkjg

ALSO STUFF YOU FOR POINTING OUT THE SHEEPS i always make that mistake and always catch it and regret it later AHAHAHA

yes dom hongjoong taking it out on the reader in the form of some spicy stuff DID I NOT TELL YOU OOPS (surprise bbygorl)

yes hehe exploiting ppl is like the first thing you must do as an aspiring politician in this era (like how come nothing else ever works) but yes it's really not a yumi fic without some political seasoning hehe

LOOK MY THESIS WAS BORING ASF STAY AT HOME SCENE but a girl can dream right dkfjghjkdf

fr hwa can breathe and i'd be a goner so i don't blame the reader for simping like that AND YES AHAHAHA THE LICKING HIS THUMB TO WIPE YOUR WHATEVER UGH I GOT THAT PICTURE IN MY HEAD. I DIED. I WRITE. :D

yes hehehe the last line thing i got that inspo from love next door they did that with their episode names (pls watch love next door)

RIGHT LIKE HOW THE STARS ALIGNED TO MEET THE JEONG YUNHO ON A BLIND DATE I'M SAT I'M READY I DO NOW KISS THE BRIDE

yes omg i basically wrote you (keep dreaming)

omg but real i do that sometimes too with the scale and hand measuring how can i not man his hand is so big ugh i cannot

YES this is basically guerrilla 2.0 bc i literally could not be bothered to come up with anything else i'm so sorry but also it's really really fun to write him as a sunshine serial killer and YES THOSE QUOTES he's literally the sun how could i not :'))

omg thank you for appreciating yeo's moodboard :D it really is fitting right? i can imagine him in a medical setting perfectly, preferable in a darker medical setting like this one

omg thank you for appreciating the characterisation too maybe i'll make this a separate fic one day LOL but yes we stan a man who still cares, even when he's uh killing ppl (FOR THE GREATER GOOD)

i said it before i say it again, there cannot be a yeo fic without chicken mention. if that happens with my fic, that's not me. that's an impostor.

LOL NOT YOU WAITING FOR ANOTHER PLOT TWIST WHEN THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A SHORT CUTE LITTLE SCENARIO have i traumatised you

RAHHHHHH YES DADDY SAN ANY DAY AND LMAOO doing what ;) what do you think ;) (he sleeps, ofc)

YES SAN A GREEN FLAG AS A RED FLAG SO BASICALLY A... BROWN FLAG?

the woo cameos are very unintentional but he's so side character coded LOL

YES AHHAHAHA EXECUTIONER WHO THIS IS JUST THE CHOI SAN WE KNOW AND YES YOU LIKE HOW I THINK RIGHT HE REALLY IS A GREEN FLAG

hmm you're craving royal mingi fics? time to write my royal beauty and the beast au break who we don't get breaks in this household loren has wished for a royal au and her wish is my command-

AHAHAHAHA this may be the first time she gets called song's girl but you bet that's all she's gonna be called from now

LMAO YES WOOYO BEING THE SAME PIECE OF SHIT I MAKE HIM EVERY TIME AHAHAHAHA HE'S SUCH A LOVEABLE BRAT

i almost made him a pyromaniac and made reader a firefighter but i guess i can do that some other day 😔✌️

LOL AHAHAHAHA idk what's with me and writing woo e2l smutty fics it just hits every time hehehehe

MONSTER OF CAPITALISM SHOULD HAVE BEEN HIS TITLE FR AND YES ITS CEO X CEO RIVALS AU

bruh when i tell you i thought i wrote turns tables and went to double check AFTER writing the correct phrase clown energy fr

YES OMG idk what it's about jongho but he's so daddy coded and when he says terms like darling or sweetheart you bet it's gonna hit 100x harder

you really are colourblind to red babes idk AHAHAHAHAHA but yes if it's jongho *gets down on my knees* yessir

THANK YOU SO MUCH BABES NGL it was scary to write this without you validating every trope and every plot LMAO and i was worrying if this felt half-assed but it turned out okay :') BUT YES. BREAK. MUCH NEEDED MUCH DESERVED BREAK I'M FREEE

thank you so much for your support babes <33

Ateez as Villains

disclaimer: read at your own risk. do not interact if not comfortable with any tropes. reminder that this is a work of fiction and must be treated so. 

warnings: absolutely no morals here, 18+ mdni, illegal acts (abduction, murder, physical abuse, stalking, trafficking, financial crimes, dirty politics, corruption), suggestive/nsfw scenes, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, smoking, drugs, alcohol

a/n: couldn't have done this without @eightmakesonebraincell's and @chronicvagabonds' validation lmao also tribute to tite kubo for coming up with the juiciest dialogues, some of which i quoted here

Hongjoong

The Manipulator

hongjoong always knew he had leadership skills

from being the team leader whenever he played games as a young child, to growing up and eventually influencing people

he was often told that he has a certain way of pulling people’s attention and leave something stirring inside them with his words

so it is no surprise that hongjoong is where he is today. a renowned businessman, philanthropist and… politician

hongjoong adjusts the sleeves of his shirt and glances at you from the mirror

you are standing behind him, holding his coat for him. he wears it with a proud smile and holds his chin high

“tonight is very important. for me. for this country.” 

he goes on about how there will be people from all over the country

people who are the foundation of this nation. people who care about the future of this world 

and if you weren’t so blinded by the adoration you have for this man you would have called him delusional

but the fact is that you are deluded by him. hongjoong has the ability to cast a spell with his words

he feeds his supporters the lie of a better world in the near future, and they bow to him

hongjoong smiles devilishly at the thought of what entails the events of tonight

he can picture it clearly- the cheers and desperate screams of his followers as he steps on the podium

the cries of these people, as helpless as sheeps in a herd, waiting for an upright politician to save this nation 

he can feel the thrill just imagining what it will be like tonight when he addresses the nation as the new face of his political party

to a common person, he would just be another man with a good heart striving for a better change

but the common person is weak, and for them… he is their salvation

they will hear his words tonight- words he has carefully crafted himself. the cues will register in their minds, and they will end up seeking him to announce their undying support and loyalty, to shower in his glory

you straighten hongjoong’s coat and smooth over his shirt, your hands unsteady with anticipation

“aren’t you happy to be right next to me when i conquer the stage tonight?” he whispers, lifting your chin up

you meet his eyes and he can see his answer there

you hope he doesn’t see the conflict in your eyes. the conflict is to be concealed in your heart, in the deepest, untouchable corner of it

you are blessed, they tell you, to be the politician’s favoured

and you are- you truly are. hongjoong loves you. he adores you

in fact… he’s almost obsessed with you

and why wouldn’t he be? you were the one who led him here

you were the one who held his hand and showed him the right path- his partner, and now his secretary

oh, how you sometimes wish you could turn back the hands of the clock and go back to when hongjoong was hopeless and thought that the world was a wretched place beyond saving

that is when you told him that the only way to run this world was to join hands with the elites of this nation- or to become one

it must be the fates that led him to where he is today

after all, isn’t he a king without a crown? a ruler without a throne?

he is a born leader and a strategist. he has always been good with his words

it’s how he earned the favour and graces of the elites and the politicians and made a place for himself- not under them, but beside them

but to stand beside those people, you have to be a little… corrupt. and morally ambiguous

the world is not run by saints, after all

“sweetheart?” he calls when he sees you are distracted

you don’t miss the warning tone in his voice. tonight, you have to be on your toes

you have to seek out willing supporters and show them that they mean the world to hongjoong and his political party

but more importantly… you need to target other politicians, find their weaknesses and if lucky, have some join hands with you

“i’m here,” you tell him and he nods firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple

“i will see you tonight,” he promises, and you know what he means

he always gets such a thrill out of playing the leader

he gets so much energy, and he has to take it out one way or another

and what better way to take it out in the form of lovemaking?

you feel warmth course through your body as he trails his finger down the middle of your chest purposely

he almost smiles maniacally as he leaves first, giving you a moment to gather your wits

you pour yourself a glass of drink- you can’t possibly do this sober

you join hongjoong as he gives his first speech- a very normal talk about how this nation is on the verge of collapse

corruption, crime, inhumanity, dirty politics? you name it

you admire his resilience, really. whatever he is talking about comes straight from his heart, and he has been talking about these issues for a long time now

you also admire his pompousness and the audacity to talk about dirty politics, when he is the face of dirty politics

you join the audience when they clap for him, your heart full of pride

there is a break where he meets with the high-profile people and asks them to consider joining hands with him

‘to make a better world for the future generations’. such inspiring words from such a young political leader

except hongjoong’s trick is that he always, always has something over them

he has a team dedicated specifically for this task- to dig dirt on his political targets so he can wield them like the blade of a guillotine over their heads

despite his evil means to climb the top, somehow, his image and reputation remains far too clean

and that is because he knows to take these actions behind the scenes, away from any eyes

a true politician, he’s been dubbed

it is about midnight when the hall almost empties, leaving only the members of your party and some new faces- people who are willing to hear him out and decide if they want to join his party

you wish you could tell them that it is a trap- hongjoong will promise that their efforts and support will lead them to something great

‘the greater good’, he always says, except these people do not know what they are getting into

they are merely sacrificial lambs, the stepping stones that will lead hongjoong closer to his utopia

they will, for the sake of loyalty, put a blindfold over their eyes. they will hold him in high reverence as he becomes their lord, their saviour

he will feed them copper pellets and claim that this is the best that they can get while he himself sits on a throne made of gold

and when they empty every last drop of whatever they have to offer- their blood, sweat and tears

hongjoong will discard them without remorse. that is who he is- a master manipulator

when you are done wrapping up the event in the deep, dark hours of the night, hongjoong finds you in your bedroom

his chest is heaving with energy that is threatening to combust from within him

he outstretches his hand and you saunter over to him

his hands are dominating when he holds you, though his kiss is soft and unrushed

until that too becomes scalding hot

he is quick to lead you to the couch where you sit on his lap, finding him painfully hard

he groans loudly and starts to unbuckle his pants, and you instantly know what he wants- you always know what he wants

he easily slides his hard length inside your warmth and groans heavily in relief, resting his head back and just letting you both stay still

you only move to rest your head against his shoulder. he can have you like this for as long as he wants

“we have a lot of new supporters tonight,” he begins, chuckling deeply, “the polls seem to be in our favour too.”

his dark curls caress your face as you snuggle against him

“we also managed to score deals with many influential politicians and businessmen tonight,” he tells you and you look at him with pride as he names them

“soon,” he begins, trailing his hands under your dress and squeezing your thighs, “soon… we will have our people in every sector- in business, healthcare, industrial, courts… we will be controlling the nation- we… we are the leaders of this nation.”

his cock twitches inside you as he finishes that sentence and you bite your lips in thought

“what are you thinking, love?” he asks, caressing your face

“i just sometimes wonder,” you begin- can you admit your bare thoughts to him?

he squeezes your thigh as a sign to go ahead

“i wonder how we got here, joong,” you admit, “you know that we are exploiting people-”

“for the greater good-”

“for the greater good, yes,” you finish, nodding and he furrows his brows in concentration

“these people are just like us. we were once slaves of this society, but now we are the leaders. and they are our slaves. but…”

“they will offer us what they have,” hongjoong replies softly, “and we will make the best out of it. isn’t that right?”

you nod. there is no more space for any more questioning

you have never like the darkness in his eyes when you question his- your- methods

all he knows is that he is right

he knows what he is doing is wrong in essence, but it is about the bigger picture- he is doing this for his nation

and you cannot expect to run a nation claiming to be a saint

the nation is run by wolves, and to make space there, you must be some sort of a predator. that is who he has become

his grip on your thighs tighten and he starts to grind your body on him

between the sounds of pleasure is the groan of pain as he spanks your thighs and remind you of your place

“all you have to do is follow me,” he breathes into your ear, trailing his lips across your cheek. “all you have to do is stay with me. together…” he thrusts hard inside you. “together, we will rule the world one day, you and i.”

you nod and he swallows your moans as he kisses you, thrusting with all his might until you both come crashing down

he takes you to the shower and you both quickly clean up and get in bed

as you watch his figure relax and succumb to sleep, you confess to him

“you are a great politician, hongjoong,” you tell him and the corners of his lips curl in a smile. “i’m just afraid of going too far with you. every day, we learn that we can get worse than we are, yet…”

“yet, it has become my addiction and my duty,” he whispers, hand finding your bare arm and caressing it. “don’t you want to rule the world?”

“you will rule the world. i will be treading on your shadow, following you closely and sharpening my teeth… but afraid.”

“afraid of what?”

“of you,” you breathe and he opens one eye

“you won’t leave me, will you?” he asks innocently, yet it is there- the warning in his tone

you are responsible for who he is today. you are an accomplice

every person he ruins to get closer to the top, you are equally responsible for it

“of course not,” you tell him, “i can’t leave you.”

hongjoong notices your choice of words

you can not leave him- you do not have a choice

he holds you close and kisses you like he means it that night

it would be such a shame if he would have to throw you away after all of this, right? 

it would truly be such a shame if you are just like the others in the end- weak and helpless

since you know exactly what is going on inside hongjoong’s head, you tell him you love him like you really mean it and you let him hold you close

it may be a trap, but you don’t mind being trapped if this is where you end up every night- in his arms

your lord, your saviour

The Manipulator and the Manipulated

Seonghwa

Jekyll

park seonghwa is a man who is adored wherever he goes

be it at work- at a prestigious university as a neuroscience professor, dr. park, or at social gatherings, formal or informal

he is a man born with the best manners, the most caring and generous heart

you’ve seen him around the department as a masters student and attended a few of his classes 

but you never got to interact with him personally until it’s time to choose a thesis supervisor and you learn that you have a chance with him

it’s purely because he’s amazing at what he does 

your subfield matches with his specialty so it will be better if he’s your supervisor (and it’s only a bonus that the man is painfully hot so you’ll never be bored)

your professor recommends you to seonghwa and he goes over your synopsis which leaves him intrigued because coincidentally, he’s researching in molecular neuroscience as well

he gladly takes you on because he believes you both will be helping each other along the way

plus, he recognises your name- you’ve always had a different air about you (and he remembers you from somewhere else too)

he’s looking forward to working with you, that’s all

so when you arrive on your first day as his supervisee and research assistant

you catch him in his natural habitat- unaware of his surroundings, humming a tune to himself and swiping his hair hurriedly to the side with the hand that’s holding a clear solution of some sort while struggling not to drop his notes on the table that has a few microscope slides 

basically, moments away from a disaster

he spots you and grunts as if asking for help and you immediately drop your bag to rush towards him, only now noticing that somehow, he’s holding his glasses by his teeth

you first take those out of his mouth and he groans in relief. “can you please help me wear my glasses? those cultures are moments away from expiring.”

“oh goodness,” you mutter and you lock eyes with him as you put on his glasses for him

and your intrusive thoughts take over because you simply cannot take how his hair is poking his eyes so you gently brush his hair out of his eyes

for a moment, time is frozen for all sorts of reasons

before seonghwa takes a deep breath and you blink, immediately getting out of his way and holding his notes for him

the notes apparently hold the readings on how much solution he needs to pour so you read it for him and consequently save him from a disaster

as soon as he is done freezing the cultures, he holds the edge of the table to save himself from slumping in relief

and you share a laugh, the ice breaking just like that

he tells you that the student assigned for taking care of the cultures had an emergency and he had to rush from another department

and he thanks you for helping him

you both move to his office to go over your thesis and he helps you create a timeline

you wrap up the meeting with a clear direction of what’s next and with a schedule of shifts where you will be assisting him

it doesn’t take long to get used to being a part of his team of five calm students with a little streak of crazy

and you suppose dr. park has an eye for people like that because you fit right in

you are all very dedicated so he seems to be at ease when you are working, though he does monitor you more closely since you’re new

you start to spend more time in the lab simply because you like how it feels there

it is like a little cocoon where you can tune out the rest of the world and work on your thesis without distractions (plus, it helps how people from your team pop in once in a while to throw some suggestions at you)

you like how it is there- neat and clean

the sound of metal against metal, glass against glass. the smell of the cleaning agent which calms you since it is something familiar now

and then there’s dr. park himself, gentle and composed, yet at times clumsy and rough which results in the room cackling with laughter

however, there’s a side to him that you only see when you’re alone with him

you’re not sure if he’s like that with everyone- he must be, right?

does he pay as much attention to everyone else as you?

perhaps, you’re delusional. that must be it

seonghwa knows you must think that, because he has not been very obvious but he has not been subtle either

it’s just that he remembers you from that time. he remembers seeing your face in his friend wooyoung’s data

wooyoung, who is an expert at singling out people like them

people like seonghwa who have a little streak of crazy in them, yet manage to be a part of the society almost seamlessly

wooyoung’s company does a good job at managing these people because they ultimately help the black market grow

seonghwa is half convinced wooyoung’s company is just a faction of the government but of course he can’t confirm that

all he knows is that he cannot act out too much and get caught

in return, he knows when someone like him is in his radar

here you are, glasses perched on the tip of your nose as you examine different slides under the microscope, muttering to yourself about the readings as your scribble them

he can’t help but notice how you always wear that one specific shade of deep red on your lips or how your hair falls in the most irresistible way in front of your face

he’s never looked at a student this way- ever- but you’re not just a student now, are you?

so when he makes his move, approaching you from behind as silently as he can

he’s not disappointed when you turn- he didn’t make a sound, yet you knew

you’re not even surprised, and that excites seonghwa to no end

“ah, dr. park,” you go casually, as if him sneaking behind you was normal behaviour. “can you approve of these hypotheses?”

seonghwa hums and stands awfully close to you, your sides brushing against each other

he purposely crowds in your personal space as he leans in to confirm the readings of the specimens on the table

“everything’s perfect,” he announces, meeting your eyes

you’re still sitting so you have to look up at him and lord. what a sight he is even from this angle. you could totally get used to it-

“what are you looking at, sweetheart?” seonghwa smirks knowingly 

you have to physically struggle to maintain your composure because you are pretty sure you were gawking

“nothing, just zoned out,” you say, which isn’t a lie but not the whole truth either

he knows though. he knows the effect he has on you because he hasn’t been subtle

from the casual touches to the unnecessary (but not undeserved) praise

from the prolonged eye contact to the suggestive smirks

there is something electric between the two of you, an undeniable tension

and while you’re not one who sticks to the rules, you can’t help but wonder just why is dr. park playing with you?

“you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa leans in and searches your eyes for any signs of lies

upon finding none but gaining satisfaction from the way your lips part in surprise, he draws back 

you try your best not to make things awkward for the rest of the time you’re with him

and in the following days, his advances only start becoming stronger in nature

you like the attention he gives you. you like how he always puts his hands on your shoulders and gives them a little squeeze whenever he finds you sitting

you like the way his warm breath caresses your cheek when you’re both sitting side by side inspecting a specimen

you enjoy the sound of his gentle voice as he instructs you

it’s almost as if he knows. it’s almost as if he’s asking for it

does he not know that once you become obsessed with something, you’ll try- no, you will possess it at all costs?

so one night when you’re both working at late hours, busy with wrapping up one section of your thesis

you can’t take it when seonghwa scolds you teasingly for being clumsy 

“you’ve got pen on your chin,” he says and before you can take care of it, he himself scoots closer-

too close for it to be professional anymore because at this point, he can probably count the freckles on your face too-

and begins to rub at your the skin near your lips gently

he frowns when it doesn’t come off, and then he has the audacity to lick his thumb and rub your skin again

“dr. park,” you mutter, about to remind him how you are supposed to be a teacher and student

you’re not friends (despite the very friendly relationship you have developed with him)

seonghwa only hums and you can’t help but notice how he stifles a smirk as he moves his thumb to your lower lip and swipes it, all the while maintaining eye contact

you raise a brow in challenge, silently questioning why he’s still holding your chin

he leans in as if to kiss you and you stop breathing

except he tilts his head to whisper in your ear

“would you like to attend the next soul society meeting with me, love?”

to say that you freeze is an understatement

you don’t move when his lips caress your cheeks as he stays in that position

you don’t move when he purposely trails his lips along your cheek as he draws back

“what’s your classification?” you manage to ask, your voice barely a whisper

the way seonghwa smirks is something you’ll never forget

“jekyll,” he says. “nice to meet you, hyde.”

there’s a moment of silence where all you can do is stare at the man in front of you

a moment of pure static

as soon as you take off your mask and your lips curl in a smirk, it happens

you don’t know who took the first step but you’re both kissing each other

it’s rushed, passionate and desperate, the air filling with your grins and giggles and you’re only glad you’re not in the lab right now because the way seonghwa clears the table with a swipe of his hand, making the notes fall on the ground

only to lift you up and seat you there so he can kiss you better? being in the lab would have done some damage alright

between kisses, you learn how seonghwa recognised you

you ask him if he lured you here somehow, but he tells you it’s just luck that you’re here as his student right now. you don’t quite believe him though

but you let it be- if he’s jekyll, that means he’s got the brains to scheme

he tells you that he’s glad to have found his hyde because he would prefer someone else to do his dirty work for him

you agree- it’s been far too long since you’ve had an adventure, and you’ve heard about the notorious jekyll in the soul society too. you just never connected the dots

he takes you to his private lab (not before feasting on you and fucking you on that very table)

for the next few weeks, you familiarise yourself with his actual research

mind altering chemicals and drugs, anything to do with control

very illegal stuff, but the soul society funds him with whatever he needs

he can’t believe he found you- you’re perfect for him

seonghwa believes he has morals and he can be a good person

so you make the perfect partner because you can be the bad person in his stead

you’re his alter ego, the voice in his head that he never lets come out

you’re the person who not only matches his freak but helps bring it into manifestation. you are now his face

while he advances in molecular neuroscience in the world, you advance, on his behalf, in the underworld

there’s no blood on your hands- you both only produce drugs. you’re not responsible for what is done with them

you do sometimes assist in the practical work, which seonghwa avoids, because after all, he has a reputation to maintain as dr. park

no one suspects a thing. you’re just supervisor and supervisee who share a similar obsession with research

nothing to worry about

Jekyll and Hyde

Yunho

The Hunter

when you finally got to a blind date that your friend begged you to go to, you didn’t expect to meet a man who would actually catch your eye

there is something about this man, jeong yunho, that instantly pulls you in as if you really are tied by a thread 

for starters, he is incredibly handsome and has a soft vibe to him that exudes warmth

his voice has a soothing quality and his mannerisms are as gentle as his gaze. his laugh is pure and he makes quite a good company

he just makes you feel comfortable and safe right away, which is kind of surprising

so when yunho tells you about himself, confirming that he is indeed a corporate lawyer at a well-known firm, you are simply in awe

you thought your friend was bluffing when she told you that she is trying to set you up with a ‘beauty with brains’

she was not lying, is all you can think now

you’re a simple school teacher, you tell yunho with a laugh

however, the man’s eyes are practically twinkling as he hears your stories about school 

you’re only telling him because he insisted, and now he can’t stop appreciating your profession, saying that it’s admirable how you are able to connect with children and educate them

the conversation steers to your likes and dislikes, your preferences, and what you’re looking for in a partner

surprisingly, the two of you have a lot in common

you both have a special place in your heart for food. you both love travelling. and there are some things he does not need to say out loud 

like how he’s a caring person- always making sure you’re comfortable and your bowl is full, draping his coat over your shoulders when you leave the restaurant and scour the streets for something sweet

the hand that he offers you is not suggestive and you like that (you also like how tall he is and how his hand engulfs yours almost entirely)

just two people who talk about anything and everything- that’s who you become by the end of the night

as you settle in bed later, you’re still smiling about how his eyes twinkled when he learned that you too have a thing for gaming too

you have good feelings about this person so far but there’s a feeling scratching at your heart that has you restless

it is the way his eyes darkened almost dangerously, only momentarily, when you insisted that you could get home on your own

he was a gentleman, no doubt about it, insisting that you could never be too sure these days especially with the news being so horrible lately, the crime rate spiking up dramatically in the past few months

you just did not like the idea of having a stranger accompany you all the way to your home, even if it was this gentleman- this was only your first meeting

so he made you promise to call him and let him know when you get home 

and here you are. you dated him for a few months before you both decided to move in together into an apartment that suited your needs

he’s perfect in every way- attentive, responsive, caring, funny, and he gives you space when you need it

which matters the most because you value your personal space a lot

he understands the importance of personal space very well and even though you share a room, you both let each other be 

you let him be when he’s gaming, and he lets you be when you’re staring at the ceiling or reading

more often though, he’ll have you sit on his lap as he games

since he’s so much bigger than you, you’ll curl on top of him to read or scroll and he’ll be focused on his game, liking your presence

it doesn’t always lead to something but when it does, it’s always fun

he has you smitten- his kisses still make you feel like it’s your first time sharing a kiss (and he’s damn good at it)

his touch lingers on your skin throughout the day and you cannot wait to be back in his arms again

it is just another night when you decide to walk and take the longer route back home because apparently yunho was going to be late and you did not want to be home alone

it gets quieter as you navigate through the streets and alleys

and when you take a turn and notice a familiar figure, you stop in your tracks

is that… not yunho? the back and the height looks pretty much the same

the man is watching a woman at the end of the street who is using her phone as if waiting for someone

the woman catches the man watching her and grows wary- you can tell even from the distance

you can tell that she is very much pretending to be on call when she starts moving

despite every cell in your body urging you to ignore this and go back home, you start to follow the man when he starts to follow the woman

you are careful to maintain a distance, cursing yourself internally for being a curious little shit who seeks thrill like there’s no tomorrow

but the woman takes a left, and the man takes a right, leaving you standing in the middle of the street, taking a few deep breaths

nothing happened, you think. you turn and start to trace your path back

and just a minute later, there’s an unmistakable sound of a woman’s scream filling the air

every hair on your body rises as your heart drops and eyes widen

you’re frozen in one spot with no idea what to do next- should you go check on the woman? see if it was the same person? 

not once do you think of calling the police though

you walk back home, lost in your thoughts with the image of the man’s familiar figure branded in your mind especially since you are pretty damn sure that those were little sunflowers embroidered on the hem of the hoodie

sunflowers that you embroidered on yunho’s hoodie

when you open the door to your apartment, though, you hear the sound of the TV and yunho is sitting very casually on the couch

“ah, you’re home,” he grins and waves, just like he usually does

he’s not wearing the hoodie anymore

“i thought you were gonna be late?” you ask

“you’re late,” he counters. “why did it take you so long to get home?”

“just decided to take a walk,” you smile, ruffling his hair and planting a kiss on the top of his head before going to your room 

you grab your clothes and move towards the bathroom to take a shower, and it is then that yunho’s eyes widen

“ah, babe?” he calls, his voice uncharacteristically high

when you don’t answer, he rushes towards the bathroom and finds you standing in the doorway

your eyes are fixed on the sink which is a pale shade of pink with handprints on it

yunho curses himself internally- he rushed to hide his hoodie as soon as he got home, jumped in the shower, spotted the bloody sink from when he first washed his hands and decided to make it look like he had been home for a while before cleaning the sink

only he fucking forgot

it doesn’t look as bad- it’s not a bloody red, for starters

“ah, i forgot to clean that up,” yunho awkwardly laughs, proceeding to move inside and open the tap, taking a sponge and cleaning the edges of the sink

yeah. it does not look that bad

“i accidentally spilled that red ink you have in the room- i don’t know why i got curious and messed with it.”

that’s not the colour of your ink, though, and you know it never leaves stains like these

“don’t worry about it,” you tell him, but your eyes are wider than usual. yunho notices that

he lets you shower in peace, all the while thinking if you suspect something

truth be told, he saw you when you were following him back there which is why he took another turn to mislead you

he also knows you are far too observant for your own good

he can’t lie- one of the reasons he fell for you is because of that. you are just like him

though you are free of sin unlike him, your mind is a mess

you notice too much that is not meant to be noticed. you sometimes say things that even he has not thought about. you question if human morals are an actual thing or a made up construct

is it from reading too much fiction? he thinks not

when you come out of the shower, something possesses you to move to the balcony

and that’s another thing yunho likes about you (which also scares him a little at times)

it is your intuition- which leads you to inspect the little corner where you pile up useless stuff. you can see the sleeve of his hoodie there

you pick it up and find it wet in certain spots

on its black base, you can’t tell what it is, but the sunflowers are stained a suspicious red colour, and it’s definitely not your ink 

you look towards your right where yunho is standing, vigilant

there is a moment of silence before you lower the hoodie 

“it really was you,” you say, unwavering

your heart is not speeding because you’re scared- it is speeding because you are right

yunho is still, contemplating how to deal with this

did he think he could hide his secret from you forever? no. was he prepared in case he gets caught? no

he just never imagined it would unfold like this

and now… will he have to hurt you if you threaten to expose him? he can’t bear to hurt a hair on your head

you bring out all the good in him. he does not know how you do that, but you make him believe that he can love with all of his heart too, just like any other person

you make him feel whole, and it would be such a shame if things fall apart now

to his surprise, you drop the hoodie back and walk towards him until there’s little distance between the two of you

you hold both of his hands in yours and look at him earnestly

“are you going to tell me what you have been up to?”

yunho is surprised at how calm your voice is and how accepting your eyes are

he sighs deeply before steering you to the couch in the living room

and then he bares his heart to you

he is a monster. that is it. he hurts people and it satisfies this ugly part of him

he does not always want to, he justifies, but sometimes, he just can’t help it

and the only reason he gets away with it is because he is not stupid and carefully chooses his victims- people who are miserable. people who have no one around them

“well then… i’m lucky to have one person in my life, right?”

yunho’s eyes widens at your response

you fulfil the criteria of being his victim- you have no one 

you have no one but him- how did that happen?

he thinks back to your first date and he can’t help but feel overwhelmed

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his head about to explode 

why are you not running away from him? why are you caressing his head and holding him close?

you don’t tell him everything right away. you only ask him to trust you

so he trusts you and waits for you

he learns little bits about you- you, who do not care who yunho is, as long as he is transparent with you

you, who has a twisted sense of morality. you, who might be as bad as yunho, even worse

though, your hands are clean, you tell him sarcastically, it’s just your head that is a mess

and it’s a blessing that you two are together and can be honest about this too, right? how lucky you are to have each other

“you, without sin, are like the sun,” he tells you one night as he kisses the top of your head and holds you close

“you, even with sin, are like the sun,” you respond.

The Hunter and His Guide

Yeosang

The Mad Scientist

there is something about the innocent features of his face, the gentleness in his mannerism, the absolute ethereal aura about him

that contrasts strikingly with the pitch black (or maybe, just two shades lighter) of his soul

the man only knows how to scheme and how to take the best possible route towards his goals

the goals are all related to science

sure, he is contributing to the scientific area, doing researches no one else would do

doctor kang yeosang- a scientist and philosopher, held in high reverence in the medical field, contributing with numerous researches centering the human body

nobody needs to know exactly how he gets such extensive, solid results to support his theories

he comes off as a soft-spoken man, someone who possesses a kind heart

he is willing to overwork himself in order to make life easier for others

he is much appreciated by his peers

they don’t need to know that behind his neat and professional setup is a dark, cold space that holds his real workspace

the endless corridors lined with shelves upon shelves of jars 

jars containing the human body parts within them

from the brain to the spleen, from the heart to the liver

each jar meticulously lined in an organisation such that only yeosang could close his eyes and know where to pick what he needs

each organ in the jar has a story of the human that it once was- the story that yeosang himself scribes and tucks in the safe (and in a corner of his heart)

taking it out only to read and reminiscence, or to make another addition

such as the one that he is about to make now, sauntering with an almost skipping manner, highlighting his delight in the events about to unfold

his pristine white lab coat flows behind him, a symbol of everything that he would not be doing tonight, which only adds to the irony of it all

he finds you mirroring his expressions, eyes wide with anticipation and lips curled in a stifled smile

and he can’t help but smile wider, the sound of his footsteps echoing loudly as he speeds towards you so that he can finally hold you after the long day he had, tired of playing it cool in front of everyone

you are snaking your arms around his neck immediately as he bends down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss, earning a surprised but pleased yelp from you

you let him have his moment, kissing him back with equal passion until he draws away and rests his forehead against your shoulder

“long day, huh?” you press your lips against his temple. “how did the presentation go?”

the presentation being at a conference of the national medical association where yeosang was the chief guest, awarded for his valuable insights to the medical world

“i sometimes wonder if i’m the only one wearing a mask,” yeosang confesses.

you know what he means

there surely must be others just like him

you can’t expect to make medical advancements while sticking to the stupid laws and regulations they have carved for you

the medical associations do not allow anyone freedom 

“it’s tiring to pretend my research was simply a result of my team’s hard work,” yeosang continue, “they didn’t do batshit. i wish i could credit you instead.”

“but you can’t,” you caress his dark locks. “that would certainly raise suspicion since i’m… underqualified.”

well, that’s arguable 

you may not be as good as yeosang at what you do but considering that you come from a non-medical background, yeosang would say that you are pretty close

in fact, overqualified

“i don’t think there’s anyone more qualified than you,” yeosang lifts his head to look up at you, eyes scanning your face. “you’re an expert of the human body.”

you are an expert, that is true

you did what you had to do to survive as a young girl who lost her way

you were meant to be a test subject yourself but you created your own path and proved that you were good with your hands- almost artistic

and that you could open up humans as long as you had a good knife

your skills were a bit rusty when yeosang found you in the black market

but he was thoroughly impressed and made an offer. it was an offer that you couldn’t resist 

you would no longer be bound to be a slave for the rest of your life

you would be his equal. an accomplice 

“but you are the mad scientist. i’m just your unofficial assistant,” you pat his cheek in answer

it’s a wonder that you’re here now, in his arms

a muffled sound interrupts your little moment

you both steer towards the big room and yeosang looks around for a moment to take in the glory of his workplace

the crisp white walls and clean tiles smelling of antiseptic, marred with red stains of blood that is dripping from the man’s limbs

the man who is currently tied to a stretcher in the middle of the room

the instruments and tools that he would be using tonight to open his test subject up are glinting with silver, ready to be used

he has chosen the perfect target- a relatively healthy, middle-aged homeless man

really, no one would care if he went missing

in fact, you were doing him a favour by putting an end to his miserable life, right?

surely, he did not wish to live without a home and the means to survive

though here he was, sedated but struggling nonetheless, as if finally having found the will to live

“ah, he created a mess,” yeosang begins, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he inspects the bruises around the man’s wrists. “i’m sorry you had to wait so long, hmm?”

it’s almost eerie, how yeosang’s voice drips with pity

but that’s what you like about him

he thinks of the greater good. he is doing all of this for the greater good

there is no personal desire to kill random human beings, no

he simply needs test subjects to study the human body, so there can be advancements in the medical world

he just can’t believe that the world does not have a cure or even a prevention for most of the diseases in this age

he has taken it upon himself to contribute to the medical world so people do not have to suffer anymore

he complains about this a lot 

if people had guts, they would have done this ages ago

sometimes, he refers to the awful medical experiments done by humankind- especially on women

he is different from them, he claims

he cares about their pain- that is why he makes sure to make his subjects’ death quick and painless before he starts to conduct his experiments

it’s just too bad that he doesn’t have much time after the person passes to study certain functions of a living human

(so sometimes, he makes exceptions and asks god for forgiveness. easy peasy)

you watch yeosang with a sort of wonder and a little something that resembles fear as he caresses the man’s head in farewell

he asks the man to say his last words, to choose them carefully, to take his time and to make peace with the fact that there is no way out

the sedatives seem to have made the man somewhat placid

the test subject stops resisting to lock eyes with the doctor 

he says something about the regrets he’s had in his life and how he just wants his misery and pain to end now

yeosang’s brows are furrowed in concentration as he listens to each and every word, nodding along as if he aims to fulfil every desire this man possesses 

his hand is gently caressing the man’s head

when the man is done, yeosang tells him that his contribution to medical research won’t be forgotten

he looks at you to find you already staring at him with an unreadable expression

he signals you to get the job done and you inject the medicine meant to stop the man’s heart

you watch the man take his last breath, his face contorting in pain as his heart ceases to function

yeosang has already moved on from the little moment he had, putting on medical gloves and snapping them against his skin rather dramatically

“let’s get to work, shall we?”

you smile in response, following his instructions

soon, you are testing the functioning of the man’s abdominal organs with various equipment and drugs that yeosang has bought from the black market 

you have to work quickly before necrosis begins and hinders you

yeosang is very careful with his methods. his hands are steady as if he has done this a thousand times already 

and though he comes off as clumsy in the public eye, he is anything but here

his eyes are focused, darting between the electrodes placed on the man’s liver to the readings on the screen

it goes on like this for a while, yet another failed experiment as the liver fails to respond as desired to the electric shock and necrosis takes over

it doesn’t disappoint any of you though

yeosang has a strong vision and no amount of failed experiments is going to stop him 

plus, there’s always something you learn even from failure

you begin to clean up when you notice a broken nail lying on the stretcher

you pick it up with tweezers and inspect it- it must have broken when the man was struggling to break free

yeosang catches you looking at the discoloured nail with curiosity and he hums in question

“hair and fingernails are beautiful ornaments.” you ask, “so why do they seem so baleful when they are removed? 

yeosang stands beside you, pondering

“the answer is simple. they are previews of what is to come. of death.”

you look at him to find his eyes twinkling with the knowing glint of someone who’s seen it all

after you both finish recording the data of tonight’s session, yeosang is back to being the cute and clumsy person that you absolutely adore

the man is craving chicken after today’s hard work so you fulfil his wish and take him to his favourite place

you both sit across each other, drinking beer and savouring the juicy meat while talking about casual stuff- just an assistant and her boss

just two friends who met by chance and felt an instant pull towards each other

just two lovers, fated to be together and find solace in each other’s company

as if the stars have aligned for you yet again, a familiar face walks in and sits on the table next to you

you meet yeosang’s eyes and you both stifle a smile

it’s one of the potential test subjects you’ve had in your file, due for observation

and what better observation than to sit next to them in a casual setting and eavesdrop naturally?

yeosang raises his beer glass in toast and you share a knowing smile, raising your own glass in toast 

just two partners in crime. that’s who you are

The Mad Scientist and his Accomplice

San

Executioner

choi san works hard during the day

he goes to the school and makes sure his students are in top shape

as their p.e. teacher and coach, he has every student’s physical status on his fingertips

he knows their strengths and their weaknesses. he also knows their desires

so if a student is not a good runner but wants to run better, he would never tell them to give up, he would personally coach them and make sure they know that their body is not the limit

they can be a good runner, a good player, a good swimmer- anything

as long as they are steadfast, they can conquer the world

so choi san is loved and respected by the students, known to be a very caring teacher

but choi san works harder at night. no one needs to know that

certainly not his colleagues who always go about how hardworking a teacher he is

when he is free from the school, he goes to his home and changes before driving to his friend’s place- a warehouse where a few of you hang out

someone programmes, another composes, another works out

just an innocent hideout that you’re all using even in your early thirties

except that you also huddle around to read the new request you receive on your app

“i am a twenty-one year old female. two years ago, the man who dated my older sister killed her, but due to lack of evidence, he did not receive the jail time he deserves. he claims that he is innocent, but ever since he got out, he’s been bothering me because he had to serve his short sentence anyway. he is threatening to kill my family and then me if i go to the cops. i am scared to leave the house because he is stalking me and i can always see him wherever i go. please help me. i won’t go to the cops anyway- they didn’t do anything then, and they will not do anything now.”

san is contemplating if he should accept this request

you look at wooyoung who is immediately weighing the pros and the cons

you look back at san who is still deep in thought and you gently rest your hand on his thigh, bringing him out of his head

“i’ll take it,” he mutters. “accept the request, y/n.”

you nod and go back to the computer to accept the request

you have a phone call conversation with the client where you set up a meeting

it’s you and wooyoung who go to meet with the respective parties. san works in the shadows

the next night, san finds you deep in thought outside, leaning against the worn out wall of the warehouse

he joins you, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans

“i know what you’re thinking,” san begins, glancing at you. “you’ve been awfully quiet since the meeting.”

you shrug in defeat. “i know i can’t change your mind.”

“it’s not going to be the same,” san refers back to the one time you all took a request from a 19 year old girl who was being bullied by her seniors

it got to a dangerous point and had you been a little late, you might have lost the girl

san lost his temper that time, though

and while he couldn’t physically harm the kids who were bullying the girl, he had them locked in a room for one night while he educated them

and funnily enough, san was scarier that night

scarier than every other time he actually wields a weapon

you asked him that night if there were any just people left in this world full of evil

“all people are evil. to believe that you are just, you must believe that someone else is more evil than you”

was his response. safe to say, the girl was living her best life now, but you saw a new side of san that night

a side you had never seen all your life, and that was saying something since you were childhood friends

“we won’t let it get to that point,” san assured, outstretching your hand and you pouted before taking it

he caressed your knuckles, his voice assertive. “i will take care of it. properly. i always do.”

“do you think i only worry about things going wrong?” you finally say out loud, the words that you want to say to him every time he goes out in the field 

san, despite himself, breaks into a smile that would seem so out of character to anyone who has not known him for long

“you can’t smile your way out of this,” you sulk further, snatching your hand away and folding your arms

“baby,” san begins, trying to take your hand again but you’re not having any of it

“i’m worried you’ll get hurt. i’m worried about the pain you’re willing to go through so you can lessen the pain of others.”

san stops teasing then, mimicking your position as he leans against the wall next to you

there is a thick silence surrounding you and you wonder what wooyoung is doing inside- is he napping?

“it’s something i have to do. something only i can do. you know that, right?”

“i know,” you say, almost a whisper. “and that’s what makes this more frustrating.”

because it was originally your idea

on a summer night when you were all about to graduate, a tragedy happened in your town

a man went on a spree, killing and wounding multiple women and children for weeks

you, who knew one of the victims personally, were shocked by the act and disgusted at how lazy the police were being

it turned out that the assailant was a high-profile businessman and the police were trying to cover the case up as per the orders of their superiors

the three of you were hanging out in the warehouse, each burdened by their own train of thoughts, until you finally said it out loud

“what if we were some sort of a private service where we help the victims? especially when the police can’t?”

it was wooyoung who agreed first, and san who disagreed

it took him some convincing to finally agree, and you set rules

you were not going to kill anyone- only maim

if it’s a serial killer, you maim their hands so they can never hold a weapon again

if it’s a bully, you maim their mouth so they think before they speak

the three of you are a team, but san is the executioner

wooyoung is his eyes and feet, and you are the brains

so it is ironic how worried you are about san now, when you gave him this role

“i know that i can get hurt,” san begins, taking a deep breath. “but there is no pain as long as i keep my eyes on the balance scale.”

this time, when he outstretches his hand, you take it. he plants a sweet kiss on your knuckles

“don’t worry about me, hmm?” he tugs you closer so you can rest your head against his firm chest as he embraces you. “i can’t focus when you’re so worried.”

“i can’t help it,” you tell him. “you’ll just have to get used to it.”

san lifts your face with his thumb below your chin, his brows furrowed with concentration and worry as he looks at you

his eyes are sharp as he scans you so you smile

immediately, his body relaxes and the corners of his lips curl in a smile as he pecks your lips- once, twice

and it is about to turn into a deeper kiss when wooyoung claps loudly to get your attention

“alright, lovebirds. get inside. we have a heads-up.”

you scowl at wooyoung who smirks in response but you both immediately join the youngest inside

your client has texted to let you know that she’s about to go out so you can stalk her stalker

you and wooyoung take your equipment to the van and san prepares himself 

he’ll be observing tonight, but he is prepared in case the stalker catches on

just like that, you observe the stalker for a few days, assuring your client that she is safe

you plan a trap to lure the stalker to an abandoned area where san will have a little chat with the stalker 

and when the day comes, all your client has to do is threaten to call the cops on him

he comes after her and that is when san knocks him out with a punch

the stalker finds himself tied to a chair in an empty room when he opens his eyes

there is the stale smell of something resembling death in the room, and that makes the man resist 

from the darkness, san emerges, clad in all black, his face covered with a mask

and his favourite weapon, the dagger, in his hand

you and wooyoung are watching from the camera embedded on his coat

you can see the glint of the dagger as he twists it dramatically in his hand

san circles around the man once as if to gauge the room 

even through the camera, you can tell how thick the air must be feeling

san meets eyes with the man and removes the tape over his mouth, wincing when the man screams his lungs out in hopes that help would come

there is no help, not for miles

“who are you?” the stalker spits on the ground near san’s feet 

san only shuts his eyes in mild annoyance. he is not easily riled up

“you have been found guilty of the crime of stalking. tell me… what should be your sentence?”

the man pales, fresh beads of sweat trickling down his forehead 

“it will be better if you admit to your wrongdoings and give me a fair number. you don’t want to leave it in my hands.”

“what do you mean sentence?” the stalker starts struggling fiercely, almost falling off the chair. “i have already served!”

san grins under the mask, closing in like a cat and stomping on his foot, making the man let out a guttural groan of pain

he leans in to whisper in his ear

“but… that was for murder. and unfortunately, i am not charging you for murder tonight. otherwise… you would not have walked out alive.”

the man gulps loudly, meeting eyes with who has to be the person he has heard so much about in prison

most of the people in prison feared this man- the judge, they called him

the man was the judge, jury and executioner for criminals, feared more than the cops or actual prosecutors

“surely… you’re not him, are you?”

you wince at the fear in the stalker’s voice and meet wooyoung’s eyes

san never confirms if he is that. he simply finishes the job right there

the stalker’s screams are heard for quite a distance, even outside your earpieces

you shut your eyes momentarily and when you open, you can see the blood oozing out of the man’s left leg

san is wiping the dagger with the man’s own jacket as he tells him that he will never be able to stalk people again

the man screams and screams, waiting for something more, but nothing else comes

san’s job is done

he tosses a broken piece of glass near the chair for the man to free himself if he wishes to

when san comes back to the van, the air is sombre, just like after every finished request

wooyoung pats his shoulder in acknowledgement and mutters a joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, which works

“they still call you the judge, huh?” wooyoung teases as he drives

“judge, jury, executioner. how scary, choi san.”

san raises a brow at your comment- he can tell what you’re referring to

you’re referring to the first time when he came back covered in blood

and the first time he realised that no matter what he did, you would never be scared of him

and that you and wooyoung would always have his back and guide him

“i think i’m only the executioner. you both are the judge and jury.”

“makes sense,” wooyoung agrees. “but the world does not need to know that.”

Judge, Jury and Executioner

Mingi

The Overseer

“the future, pitch black, upside down”

mingi dips his brush into the onyx ink, finishing writing the words on the big canvas

the canvas that is a splash of colours- red for the blood on his hands. white for the innocence he lost too soon. blue for all those nights he spent trapped with only the moon as his friend

and finally, black for the future. the future is the only uncertainty in his life

despite being a leader of a notorious gang, he can never be certain about his future. there are always people after his life

he cannot trust anyone- not one soul-

“sir,” a voice interrupts and he knows who it is instantly

even if he did not hear your voice, he knows you are the only person who would dare interrupt him in the middle of his private time-

“tea, sir. you’ve been cooped up in here for too long,” you say, placing the mug on the table

-for something as meagre as tea

mingi spares a glance in your direction, noticing how you are still dressed in your usual all-black fit

which means you have not gone to sleep yet, even though it’s well past midnight

“and what are you doing up so late?” he asks as he picks up the cup and sips it, finding it exactly to his liking. a flavour only you can nail

“watching you paint,” you confess without hesitation

because in this place, in this room, between the two of you, there may be truths hidden, but there are no secrets

mingi is amused to hear that though he does his best to hide it

“and what do you think of the painting?” he asks, allowing you to take a closer look

you smile at his permission to inspect his art and you inch closer to the painting, now standing beside your boss

you read the words on it in a whisper and cock your head in thought

“isn’t this too dark, even for you?” you question 

mingi shakes his head in amusement and looks down. only you could have made this observation, having been at his side for a solid seven years now

where others would say that his paintings were too ‘colourful’ considering the kind of person he is, you still find them too dark and void of life

you’d know better, because you know mingi inside out

he first found you when he was a street thug in the process of becoming something big

all he had was his raw strength, a strategic brain, a few rusty weapons and some loyal friends

he went on to fight gang after gang, always emerging victorious and merging the losing team with a good deal- it’s how he earned respect around and gained a reputation

every other gang knew not to stand against him unless they wanted to risk losing everything they had

when he first opened his office in the darkest part of the town, he found you purely by chance

you were nearing the end of your teens- a rebellious little girl who cut ties from her family and ran away from home

at that time, you had multiple part-time jobs trying to make ends meet, hoping to find a place to live

and one fateful night, you found yourself in front of a building to deliver chicken, peering up at the light coming from the 4th floor- this must be it 

although… you weren’t sure if the loud sounds coming from the floor were just men having a good time or if something had gone really, really wrong

men will be men, you thought, wanting to get the delivery done with so you could move on

only when you reached the 4th floor, you spotted men lying on the ground and clutching their limbs, blood all around

while every sane part of your brain screamed at you to pretend you saw nothing and go back, you recalled how when you received the order, they promised a big tip to the rider

you could not miss that, could you? you had to find a place to live, and you needed every penny

so you started with the men who seemed to be unconscious. you took any cash they had, being careful to hide your face in the hoodie

you moved to the office, hearing a crashing sound and flinching

you made quick work of grabbing more cash from the thugs- they had to be thugs

they all had guns, for fuck’s sake

you went into one of the neater rooms and placed the bags of fried chicken there

and you froze when a burly man made his way inside, wiping blood from the edge of his mouth

“ah… you must be song’s girl, eh?” he snickered, scanning you up and down

“i- i’m delivering chicken,” you pointed at the table. “i’ll be on my way then-”

“not so quick,” his gaze darkened 

instinctively, you grabbed the nearest object, which so happened to be a mug and chucked it at the man, successfully hitting his head

he clutched his head in pain and you made a dash outside, bumping into another man

the tall man seemed mostly unscathed save for a bruise on his cheek

he held your wrists to steady you and his eyes darted in the man’s direction who was clutching his head no more

“oi, song!” the burly man called. “teach your girl some manners, will you?”

the man called song pushed you to the side and a gunfight ensued

you took shelter behind a shelf, observing how the taller man successfully shot his every target

when he thought he was done- and was out of bullets, he looked in your direction and tsked loudly

you were about to come out of the shadows when you noticed one of the supposedly unconscious men take aim of song’s head

your eyes widened and almost instinctively, you grabbed a heavy metal object from the shelf and rushed to the man who was targeting your saviour

to say that mingi was surprised to see a young girl save him from his enemy by nearly crushing the man’s skull?

he knew you were something special right away

you both stared at each other for a long time before he told you to go back to his office, lock the door and not come out until he comes back

he was done sooner than you thought, and while his men cleaned his mess, he found you in his room, sitting rather calmly

“so you’re the delivery girl,” he narrowed his eyes

“i hope the chicken is still warm,” you responded. “if you can just pay me so i can leave-”

“why did you do that earlier?” he asked, voice low and rough that sent shivers up your spine

“i don’t know,” you answered truthfully

mingi paid you more than extra that night and told you to come next time they place an order 

the next time would turn out to be the last time you would ever work a part-time job

mingi offered you a place in his gang, and you took it

you are still not sure what your position in this gang is though- they smuggle drugs but keep you away from the work, so what are you doing here?

personal assistant? chef? manager? all of these? 

sometimes, you are accompanying wooyoung in the field- the gang now has an official base and a few legal businesses

sometimes, you stay in the kitchen with seonghwa and wooyoung to cook

other times, you sit with yunho and hongjoong to plan and offer your opinion on their strategic takes

you aren’t sure if you are qualified for that- you probably aren’t

somehow, though, the gang members respect you for whoever you are

you are the light in their dark life, they joke. you are someone’s friend now, sibling to some, secretkeeper for others

but you still aren’t sure what you are to mingi

whenever you ask him why he took you in, mingi always responds with something different

“you were clever grabbing all that money from our enemies”

“you saved me- though i must say i could have handled it”

“you looked like a lost cat”

“you didn’t report us”- excuses, all of them

truth be told, mingi has no idea what you are to him either

he has a certain fondness for you that he has for no one else. of course, it didn’t happen instantly

he took you in because he realised you had a strategic mind and he could really use that

he insisted the office needed a ‘feminine touch’ even though it came in the form of a cranky teen who wouldn’t stop asking questions

but somehow, the two of you formed an unbreakable bond

he finds solace just being with you in one room, even in complete silence

he loves to hear you talk, even though you mostly question his morals

because he is not a good person, you found out

song mingi is not conventionally good. he is a man of principles, but he does not have the best morals

despite all that, you learned a lot from him. the world is a harsh place, and only he can protect you 

he learned a lot from you too. the world is a harsh place, and only you are his safe space

when at times things get stressful, he comes to seek you. he finds you in the shared residence and sits with you

if he is feeling down, you will have him lay his head in your lap. you will caress his head and let him be

if he wants to talk, he will. otherwise, he will watch you for a long time until he falls asleep, unguarded

when he gets tired, he will seek your arms. all he has to do is show up and you will know what to do

you will drop whatever you are doing and spread your arms

it is his home at this point. that’s how things are like

are you in a relationship? you don’t know

all you know is that song mingi is the most important person in your life

it doesn’t matter if he lives life the way he does

it doesn’t affect you anymore- the blood on his hands or the chaos in his mind

it doesn’t bother you because you know his heart, and that is all that matters

so standing in his private space right next to him, inspecting his painting with a critical eye, you tell him that the painting is not him

he tells you to pick a colour and you reach out for a box, making him chuckle

“really?” he asks

“the future may seem black, but…” you begin. “it doesn’t feel so dark when i’m with you.”

mingi takes a deep breath at your words. you always get him like this, and he is not sure if he can restrain himself anymore

your heart aches when you see him curl his fists, a sign that he is holding back some words or an action

“tell me what you’re thinking,” you request, though it registers like a command in the gang leader’s brain

“i’m thinking that i never should have given you this life.”

you shake your head at that- how many times has he voiced out that he wished you had lived a better, normal life, away from the clutches of the underworld?

“no, you’re thinking something else too,” you comment

“i’m thinking that i want you to stay here, with me, forever,” he responds

you nod in approval. “i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere.”

“you could get hurt,” mingi says, taking a step closer and closing the gap between your bodies

“i am a big girl now, mingi,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist and hearing his erratic heartbeat

his arms are still by his sides for a moment before he embraces you

“i’m old now, in fact. how much longer will you keep me waiting?”

mingi grows stiff at your question. so you know

of course you do

mingi cups your face and locks eyes with you

“i won’t break,” you promise

“i know,” he smiles, pecking your forehead. “i’m afraid you will break me.”

your lips curl in a smile and he rests his forehead against yours

“are you sure about your choice?”

“yes,” you breathe. “i want you. i’m yours.”

mingi draws back

“i meant your choice of colour,” he tilts his head in the direction of the painting and the box of paint you picked for him

“of course you did,” you laugh at his attempt to distract you

mingi leans in to close the distance between your lips

it is soft and unrushed. you both have waited for the right moment, the right time for years and everything feels absolutely right at this moment 

you go first, asking him to join you in your bedroom and he agrees

he assesses the canvas once again

as a finishing touch, he sprays a final splash of yellow- the colour you picked for him

yellow for hope, for all the light in his dark world

The Overseer and his Shelter

Wooyoung

The Maniac

it has always been a cat and mouse game with you and wooyoung

you chase after each other, running in circles with no start or end

it’s almost as if you both have sworn to keep your eyes glued on each other, watching every move, anticipating what is next

someone’s lips curls up in a failed attempt to restrain a smile- a smile that drips with mischief and mockery

someone else’s eyes glint with threat and promise that this is not over, their fists curled in anger

you chase after each other like cat and mouse

only…you’re not sure who is the cat and who is the mouse

sometimes, it is you chasing after wooyoung

jung wooyoung, the son of one of the richest businessmen in town

a privileged piece of shit who is not right in the mind

a crazy bastard who has made it his life’s mission to not only drive you to the edge of the cliff but to push you and laugh in victory as you fall

he takes advantage of you being a criminal investigator 

some people jest that they can’t tell if wooyoung means to ruin your career or lead you to your promotion

with the amount of times wooyoung has gotten himself in trouble (and gotten away with it) he keeps your desk full of cases that you spend most nights investigating

while he keeps your hands full, what frustrates you to no end is that he almost always gets away with his crimes only because of his social standing and his connections

he gets away with petty crimes. he gets away with bloody fights that could very well have him spend one night in the station, cuffed 

he gets away with major crimes such as money laundering and tax evasion

no matter how much you try to investigate, you cannot

there are the warnings of your superiors who threaten to fire you because this is not your worry

and even if you do start to investigate, wooyoung’s team is quick to wipe any evidence of said crimes

you’re pretty sure that at this point, he might be hiding a body somewhere in his house

you wouldn’t be surprised. man once set his enemy’s mansion on fire

to make things worse, he got away with it- even when he was the only one grinning and playing with a lighter on his way out 

while the others scrambled like mice, he sauntered in style

he gets away with anything

you reputation at the station is already in shambles because of it

they call you his shadow at this point, considering how you are always following him

the truth is, you just want to wipe the shitty grin off his face for once

you want him to suffer defeat when you finally put him behind bars

you want him to chase after you like you chase after him

you might come off as delusional, but you’re half convinced that whatever wooyoung does is on purpose at this point- to get your attention

it wasn’t always like this, you and wooyoung

it started with a simple fight that broke out at a party where all the high-profile people were

someone was stupid enough to call the police- but you were more stupid because you went ahead and handcuffed wooyoung

you told him that you couldn’t waste this opportunity because you were investigating another case related to his father’s company anyway

and he? he laughed out loud like a maniac

you soon learned why, going home with the sound of your superiors scolding you still ringing in your ears

here you are, a few years and a lot of chasing each other later

except… you get something out of the chasing now

all he has to do is corner you. all he has to do is rile you up as he tells you why you lost this game yet again

with his burning gaze and honey voice, he pins you to the spot

with his fingers tracing the curves of your face, he tells you how much he loves you chasing after him 

as if he’s all that you ever think about. he might be right

“don’t you think we’re meant for each other?” wooyoung questions almost innocently, licking his lips subconsciously as he trails his finger down the curve of your neck until he reaches the first button of your shirt

“don’t think too highly of yourself, wooyoung,” you respond, your chest rising and falling in controlled breaths

you can not let him know the effect he has on you

however, wooyoung doesn’t need any sort of confirmation

you can try to keep your gaze steel all you want. you can attempt to sound sure and fake indifference, but the fact is that wooyoung knows

all he has to do is take another step forward and fill the gap between you two

his warm breath caresses your face and you gulp despite yourself

he watches you intently and squeezes your neck just a bit, causing you to part your lips for air and then he brushes the tip of his nose against yours

his other hand is slowly but surely unbuckling the belt of your pants and taking it off

you can only thank god in an ashamed relief that you’re in a private space- the space being one of the empty rooms in a random building on a random street because you had been tailing wooyoung

(at least the door is locked)

wooyoung brushes his lips against yours as your pants fall on the ground and pool on your feet

the sound that makes has heat rushing to your face- this should not be happening

you are a fucking detective and wooyoung is your target

but you can’t complain when his fingertips dance along your hip bones

all he has to do is swipe his fingers up your panties

upon finding them soaked (as usual), he smirks and you smack his chest

he catches your fist in his hand, though

“all for me?” he asks

in a matter of seconds, your lips are upon each other, tongues in each other’s mouth as you wrap your legs around him

he picks you up effortlessly and places you on a very dusty table

he gets rid of his clothes all the while kissing you expertly, aiming to please you, dominate you

he sucks on your lips, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on

and when he finally takes off all your garments, he has more places he can get his mouth on

“admit it, detective,” he breathes against your clit. “you’re obsessed with me.”

“get to work before i cuff you and fuck your brains out, wooyoung.”

wooyoung’s laugh echoes in the room as he recalls that night- a night he is sure he can never forget

“does that mean i get to experience that again if i stop now?”

you are moments away from your high- how dare he ask if he can stop?

he gets the hint and gets to work, and he makes sure he does a good job, licking and sucking at your clit until you’re screaming

for bonus points, he dives his cock inside right after and stays still as he starts to kiss you eagerly

this time, you’re the one who loses to him and lets him take control

you let him thrust into you. you let him praise you and humiliate you to no end

truth be told, you’re addicted to him. there is no going back from here

wooyoung knows how to use his tongue and he whispers sweet nothings

he is also surprisingly good at aftercare, even though you don’t accept it from him

well, you try not to, but he is insistent

he takes you home and he invites himself in

you go to the shower and he goes to your room to admire the effort you put into bringing him down

loads of files and a board full of his ‘accomplishments’ staring back at him- nothing he doesn’t know

“you think your daddy will help you if i start to investigate the slush fund you have?”

“which one?” is his response, and he grins widely as you gape at him

he can practically see the gears in your head turning and he adores that

it is a cat and mouse game after all. he must give you something so you keep coming after him

(and you must give him something so he keeps finding you too)

while you’re still processing what he just implied, your phone rings

you flinch when you pick it up, getting an earful from your team leader once again, because where were you?

you were supposed to tail wooyoung to confirm that he is meeting up with a notorious gang member who does his dirty work

the case you’re team is on these days is targeting the gang, and yet again… wooyoung is involved

so what the hell were you doing, your superior asks

“jung wooyoung did not meet up with the gang leader,” you say into the phone, your eyes fixed on wooyoung 

wooyoung has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face

“and how do you know that? i thought you lost the tail-”

“yes, i did lose the tail,” you bite your lips in thought- you can’t tell your team leader that wooyoung has a strong alibi this time-

but wooyoung goes ahead and snatches your phone from you

“detective lee,” wooyoung greets and you mutter a string of curses under your breath

you watch wooyoung charm his way through the matter

telling the detective that he was in a tight spot because of the gang they are investigating

and how it is a shame that a ‘civilised’ person such as himself is being linked to thugs

he tells him that he almost got attacked but you saved him, and you hid him in an abandoned building, being wise enough not to blow your cover 

you can’t tell how he does it, but by the end of the call, your team leader is fully convinced that you did a good job today and he even praises you when you take the phone back

when you end the call, you glare at wooyoung

“what?” he shrugs. “i needed an alibi.”

“is that why you took me to the building to fuck me? because you needed an alibi?”

wooyoung watches you with mild curiosity

“did you think it meant something else?” he asks

it would have hurt if he really meant it, but that’s the thing

you both know he doesn’t mean what he says, especially about whatever is going on between you two

he has risked his position and even his life far too many times just to get you alone and fuck you

so you only smile and shake your head in response before telling him to fuck off and get out of your sight

(and he does. not before a second round)

when he leaves, you watch his car disappear from the window before going to the board and updating everything you got out of him tonight

everything about his business and his crimes. everything to make your case on him stronger

it’s truly a wonder how much you can get out of fucking someone right and you’re positive you can see the end of this case now

though… you’re not sure if you will ever take this to court. but that’s something you’ll worry about later

for now, you will follow him like a cat follows a mouse

and he will chase after you like a cat chases after a mouse

The Maniac and his Shadow

Jongho

The Tyrant

it is always a little too cold in the building for your liking

the building that is choi enterprises, located at the heart of the city, standing tall with numerous floors, laden in luxury

it is a workplace and home to some of the people in this city and a symbol of something untouchable to the others

as you enter the building, accompanied by your secretaries and a guard, you instantly feel the temperature drop despite the warm tones of the interior

the employees that greet you may have smiles on their faces but it’s all an act. you can tell, because you know what a genuine smile looks like

choi enterprises somehow always manages to keep the most calculating people to themselves. it might be why the company has flourished so much in such a short period of time

“to the private elevators, miss,” a man says and you recognise him as one of the ceo’s personal staff

you follow him and tug your jacket closer, wishing you had worn it instead of draping it over your shoulders

you catch your reflection on the golden glossy door of the elevator and straighten, lifting your chin up

you will not be pushed into submission, you repeat for the umpteenth time

however, things are not in your favour this time

in this never ending game of business rivalry, you and choi jongho have never seen eye to eye. you always stand in opposition, defensive or offensive

sometimes, you manage to outsmart him while making a new business deal or scoring a new project. other times, he is a few steps ahead and wins the game

except when you lose, somehow, the loss is much greater and a bit personal

your company always suffers more when you lose, which is why this little meeting you are going to have with jongho is no less than a negotiation- a war, if you must

sometimes, you wonder if jongho has a personal grudge against you. these meaningless battles start to seem like an excuse to see you

if not, then why is jongho looking like he just won the lottery at the sight of you?

“as beautiful as ever,” he says, scanning your figure slowly

you don’t move an inch, pretending those words don’t affect you

the secretaries move to another room, leaving you and jongho alone

jongho gets up from his chair and moves to the middle of the room, motioning you to take a seat

you watch as he pours a drink for you, his muscles flexing through the coat he’s wearing 

you take the drink- you need something to calm your nerves

“i suppose the odds are not in your favour, considering you found your way back here”

an allusion to the time he said that you were meant to find your way back here again and again, that you were just a lost kitten and he was your master, controlling you

at that time, you thought he meant to spite you, but time after time, he proved himself right

you always find your way here, always as the opposition. this time, though… you won’t bend

“if the odds are in your favour,” you begin experimentally, downing the drink in one gulp and then pouring one for jongho. “would you like me to join hands with you?”

now this is new- jongho’s eyes slightly widen at your remark

“ah… how the tables have turned,” jongho started to chuckle lowly

you let him be for a moment, scoffing internally

jongho had earned the right title over the years since he stepped up as ceo of his father’s company

a monster of capitalism

known to be the owner of many questionable businesses, borderline illegal, evading taxes and having slush funds unashamedly, heavily involved in money laundering- the list goes on and on

a true financial villain- a true monster, yet… being able to get away with everything, unscathed. that’s who jongho is

he has bribed every soul who would dare go against him. and those who do not take the bribe? he makes sure they kneel

and you… you’re pretty close to being his next target- he did say you would look pretty on your knees for him

“is business not going well?” he asks, faking innocence. he knows

you are a rival company- seo enterprises. everything that jongho’s company is, but… more legal

your forefathers were once partners, and they created their independent companies without a hint of rivalry

they were the definition of true brothers (and partners in crime)

the difference between the values of your company came when you and jongho stepped up as ceo

you had made it your life’s mission for your company to earn a good reputation and moral image, while jongho seemed to have made it his life’s mission to simply conquer the world, no matter what or who the stepping stone is

“business is well,” you narrow your eyes at him. “it’s about the land in ilsan.”

jongho doesn’t seem surprised to hear that. it is always like this- he knows what moves you will make

“ah, the one where we are about to construct a gallery?” jongho asks

“we?” you repeat. “that land is a shared property. why have you not consulted us before going ahead and signing the documents? how could you begin this project without us-”

“the other option is selling it to the government because of the redevelopment project,” jongho leans forward, “and you know how much i despise the government getting their grubby hands on what’s mine”

you know he is right, and he knows that you are not here to argue about why he started this project without telling you

jongho relaxes back, considering all his options before deciding to strike. “you’re worried about your involvement in that project, is that right?”

“well,” you mirror his position, “i would like to keep my reputation clean unlike yours.”

he chuckles at that, proud of his deeds. “yeah, well, that’s going to be hard, sweetheart. that gallery is going to be an optimum location for storing money.”

you know what he means. the gallery is going to display priceless pieces of arts. those pieces are but a means of illegal transactions for the elites

you swallow your anger, taking a deep breath. “i’d like to have my shares back, then. before construction starts.”

“uh…” jongho gets up, fixing his clothes. “you’re going to have to convince me for that.”

“please,” you scoff, but he only shakes his head, ignoring that because he knows this ‘please’ was wholly sarcastic

“try harder,” he smiles mockingly before turning his back to you and moving to the window, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants and staring down at the city

a tyrant- that’s who he is

he expects to get the maximum output out of anything he set his eyes on, no matter the cost- money or lives

you join him by the window, pointing at a few spots. “that’s where people held protests against your company last week,” you tell him. “apparently, you have been exploiting labourers too.”

“that’s what they think,” he spits. “i gave them more than they deserve. they just never learn to accept. they never get pleased.”

you look at jongho- he sounds like he is saying the truth. he has the art of sounding like a victim at times, thus justifying his actions

“doesn’t all that venom in your heart make you dizzy?”

jongho glances at you, his lips threatening to curl into a smile at your words

“doesn’t it get tiring, pretending to be moral?” jongho asks, trying to read your guarded eyes 

“there’s no pretending. i never claimed that i was full of morals, mr. choi,” you sigh. “i just wish for my business to have a legal foundation.”

“and it will, you don’t have to worry,” he responds, curling a section of your hair that had been resting on your shoulder in his fingers

you don’t flinch at his touch. you’ve known him since the beginning, and nothing he does fazes you anymore- except when he leans closer experimentally, locking eyes with you and trying to read you

“you will get your shares, but you will have to convince me,” he says, voice barely above a whisper

it is a challenge. it is always a challenge with choi jongho

“why are you so obsessed with me?” you laugh this time, swatting his hand away

he joins, and everything almost seems normal for a moment- just two friends with too many inside jokes, except… it only lasts for a moment

“how can i convince you?” you ask, sombre

“you know what i want from you, y/n,” he replies in a similar tone

he wants a true partnership, except his idea of a partnership is where you bend to his will (and so is yours)

“don’t turn this into a legal battle, jongho,” you warn, “i would hate to summon you to court.”

“don’t turn this into a petty rivalry,” he counters, “you will benefit from this project. you reputation won’t be harmed.”

“i don’t want my name next to yours,” you tell him in all honesty and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes

“that is not possible,” jongho declares. “our companies are not mentioned without each other. we are fated like that, you and i.”

that is true. no one dares to touch the two of you, so you two have always been alone

there is no one you both can trust. there is no one next to you 

except the two of you are always together, wherever you go, be it business parties, political dinners, or high-profile events

you can only trust each other, because despite knowing everything about each other’s business, despite being at war with each other

you are always honest with each other- honest about your intentions and purpose

there is no one next to you because you two are always together, leaving no space for someone else

do you hate that? not really. does he hate that? he’s not sure

“you can buy my shares from me,” you start, “or you can shift them elsewhere. i can handle whatever loss comes with that.”

“or… you can let it be and use the revenue for something ‘moral’,” he taunts and silence envelopes the room

“no matter how much you try to maintain a clean image,” he starts, gentler this time, “you cannot undo the damage your forefathers have done to your company, y/n. seo enterprises will always be known as the company that exploited the weak to get to the top.”

you don’t wince at that, though your heart aches to hear that

“just like your company. except you are continuing in their footsteps,” you say

jongho nods, watching how your shoulders are curling inwards

“you are not weak, y/n, stand straight,” he almost scolds, taking you by surprise 

you find yourself straightening at his words, confused to see how conflicted he looks

“you are the strongest person i know,” he tells you, and he means it. “i just don’t get why you are atoning for their sins.”

“i don’t know either,” you smile in defeat. “i just am.”

“well, if you ever get tired,” he gently places his hands over your shoulders, “i am here for you. you can lean on me.”

you lock eyes with him, scanning his face. his smile seems genuine

the way he kisses your forehead makes your heart melt

when he embraces you, you lean on him physically

and you almost give in, except…

“i can lean on you, huh?” you say, soaking in the warmth of his body, taking as much as you can before you continue 

“so you can end my career, merge our companies and crown yourself king?”

you look up at him, finding him smirking

just like you thought

“not a chance, choi jongho.”

“how can you see right through me every time, y/n?” he laughs loudly as you smack his chest and move towards the sofa to grab your purse

“i’m the only person who knows who you are,” you tell him. “you can own the world, but you will never own me.”

his eyes glint almost dangerously

“challenge accepted,” he says

you mockingly wave goodbye before exiting the room

choi jongho never changes, and neither do you

but somehow… it gets more addicting and electrifying to be with him, to compete with him and to stand with him

even though he is a tyrant, and you are everything that he is not

The Tyrant and His Defiant Ally

[chilling-seavey]

Desiderio (gr63)

↳ A/N When my first F1 fic on here reached 1k notes (and my first piece of writing ever to hit 4-digits!!), I agreed to reward you, my lovely readers, with a highly requested part two to celebrate. Here is part two of Enchanté. You do not have to read the first one for this one to make sense, although it's encouraged! This also took me exactly 63 days to complete so lol that's fun

↳ Summary: It's been a year since Paris. A year since you've seen George. In the middle of the storm of a century, in another foreign city, fate sometimes works in mysterious ways.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Stranger!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 21.4k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, invisible string theory lowkey, one night stand (or is it??), use of explicit language, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, rimming, minor anal play, choking, spitting, spanking, squirting, overstimulation, use of derogatory names (slut etc.), use of a vibrator, brief female masturbation and slight voyeurism, George has a (very skilled) dirty fucking mouth, unprotected sex (and unprotected creampies...)

The hotel bar was dimly lit despite the early evening hour; the soft, amber glow of table lamps barely pierced the shadows as the dark stormy sky outside laid a blanket of gloom over the city of Milan. Rain pelted down in heavy sheets against the large paned windows, hammering against the cobblestone sidewalks, and causing the dark wood shutters of the historic hotel to rattle aggressively in the shrieking wind. The weather report had predicted rain, but no one expected the tempest that now roared through the city. 

Sundays were often the quietest days as you had discovered through your recent travels, but, this Sunday in particular, the lobby of the hotel seemed to be in upheaval. 

Voices of displeased guests carried through the lofty ceilings and panicked groups chatted loudly together, trying to fix their upturned travel plans. The lobby was a cacophony of travelers pleading for vacant rooms that didn’t exist or shouting into their phones in various languages, trying to secure flights that simply weren't available. You knew it was a futile effort. You’d tried all of those same tactics just an hour earlier.

Now, exhausted from your anxiety and stress that the unprecedented storm had caused, you found yourself at the hotel bar with a glass of wine in hand and your suitcase beside your chair. You were entirely stranded. 

Sooner or later, you'd have to confront the reality that there was no flight home and no hotel room left for you—the room you'd occupied all week had already been claimed by the next guest. For now, you tried to push aside the gnawing anxiety twisting in your stomach and focus on your drink while it lasted. Maybe, in a strangely sadistic way, there was some grim amusement to be found in watching the other guests frantically yell at each other. 

As always, when work no longer occupied your mind, your thoughts drifted to a familiar memory; one tinged with a bittersweet ache of nostalgia. It felt like both years ago and just last week—your very first work trip to Paris, lingering vividly in your mind as you sat at the hotel bar. You knew it was foolish to keep thinking about the handsome stranger from your last night there, but the connection you had shared was unlike anything you had experienced before—or since.

The way he touched you, spoke to you, fucked you was something that had been engrained in your mind ever since, dreaming for someone to ever come even a fraction close to how incredible he was. George. Such a dull and unremarkable name for a man so impressive and unforgettable.

Out of everyone in the world, your path had happened to cross with his that fateful evening during which you shared a night of lust in the heart of Paris with a view of the Eiffel Tower. He opened up your world to opportunities you were closed off to before; sending you back home with a new outlook on sex and intimacy. Yet every man you had tried to connect with since always fell short—either they were too boring, self-centered, or couldn’t even get you to cum yet alone wanted to actually try. Disappointment after disappointment, your mind always went back to George. You were sure you were cursed to just want nothing but that whirlwind romantic night of debauchery with the one that got away. 

He was probably snatched by then; almost a year later. A handsome, kind, talented man like him certainly wouldn’t be on the market for long. Regardless, you knew nothing about him but his first name. You had no way of connecting with him again even if you wanted to—and no patience to sift through the millions of Georges that probably existed in the world to try and find yours. 

Your gaze lingered on the last sip of wine in the bottom of your glass on the bartop; a gentle glimmering light golden colour. A local Italian white that seemed to just do the trick in getting you into your thoughts and out of them all in the same. The chaotic noise of the hotel lobby faded into the background as you idly swirled the remaining liquid, watching it dance in slow, hypnotic circles around the bottom of the glass. With a melancholy sigh, you lifted the glass up to your lips and downed the remaining sip. The glass rested back on the bartop with a dull clink. 

With nowhere to go thanks to the relentless storm, you lingered a while longer at the hotel bar, turning your attention back to the chaotic crowds. The poor front desk staff were nearly overwhelmed, swarmed by a sea of disgruntled guests. You noticed a couple of security guards stationed near the entrance and reception, as if poised to manage any brewing unrest. One of them placed a firm, warning hand on the shoulder of a particularly upset woman who was pushing her way towards the desk, flailing her phone around and shouting in Italian. 

The darkened lobby of the luxury hotel flashed with a sudden bright light as a strike of lighting tore across the sky. That quieted the guests for a moment in surprise before a crack of thunder rumbled across the atmosphere and nearly shook the ground beneath the hotel. Chatter rose quickly, everyone in awe at the power of mother nature and how it so effortlessly screwed up everyone's plans. 

But, as the noise level rose again and the coming and going of heads and bodies created a blurry sea around you, your attention was drawn naturally towards the front desk once more. Standing there, in a crisp white collared shirt, was a tall, broad-shouldered man speaking to one of the receptionists. His back was to you, but for a fleeting moment, your heart skipped—a rush of familiarity stirred by the sight of his sandy brown hair, damp and darkened by the rain. It was almost too familiar, making your chest tighten with a sudden, unshakable feeling.

For the past year, you’d caught glimpses of George in every passing stranger, every storefront window, in everything you laid eyes on. Countless times, you’d found yourself on the verge of approaching someone, convinced it was him, only for them to turn around—revealing, to your disappointment, yet another unfamiliar face. This time, you were sure, was no different. 

So, you sat on your barstool, watching aimlessly. It wasn’t long before he straightened up, giving the receptionist a polite nod before turning to face the chaotic swarm of panicked guests. To face you.

Your heart plummeted to your stomach the moment your eyes landed on his face. It couldn’t be...

George was as handsome as you had remembered him to be; even after months and months apart. He stood out from the crowd with an impressive height and presence about him, like he was being followed by a spotlight, the noise of the storm and the hotel guests fading into nothing in the background as your eyes lingered on him. He shuffled to the side, dropped the backpack he was carrying to the ground at his feet, and pulled out his phone. Immediately, he was typing furiously away with furrowed brows directed to his screen, his angular jawline undoubtedly tense from his own ruined plans. 

For a moment, you were frozen in your seat, nearly just gaping at him from across the busy lobby. At first, you wanted to just turn back around and order another glass and pretend you didn’t see him at all. At least that would save you the embarrassment of him not recognizing you. Why would he? He made it clear back in Paris that he often would charm women on his travels to take them back to his hotel; not one to be tied down, he told you. You were certain you were nothing more than a fleeting encounter, a statistic in his long list of conquests. 

But, at the same time, you knew that you would live with this regret for the rest of your life if you didn’t try. Since you parted ways in Paris he had been the only thing on your mind and in your dreams and you longed for some way to reach him again. This might have been the only chance you would have. 

So, you slid off your bar stool and tugged up the handle of your suitcase and carefully navigated your way through the swarm of people to where he stood by the front desk. Your steps were hesitant and calculated as if your shy reluctance was taking over. But then, when you were just meters away, a clear path opened before you between the bodies—like the parting of the sea.

You saw him visibly sigh as he lifted his gaze from his phone to scan the chaotic room. His shoulders rolled in an attempt to shake off the weight of stress and he ran his fingers through his damp brown hair, pushing it away from his face. Then, as if pulled by some unseen force, his eyes locked on yours.

Your feet entirely stopped and you were sure that if the room had been quiet, the sole of your shoe would have shrieked against the tile floor with how quickly you halted. For a few long seconds, the two of you just stared at each other. 

Then, muffled by the noise of the crowds that surrounded you, he spoke your name like he had been saying it all his life. 

As if pulled towards him by some invisible string, you were in front of him in a blink, trapped close in the barely secluded corner of the lobby. You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. 

George spoke for you in genuine disbelief, “This is…crazy. I thought I’d never see you again after Paris yet alone here.”

“Yeah, me too.” you stumbled out with a nervous chuckle, staring into his wide aquamarine eyes, trying to get your words to catch up with your mind, “I didn’t know if you’d even remember me…after a year.”

George seemed taken aback, replying genuinely, “How could I forget? We had quite a night in Paris.”

You smiled bashfully towards the rain soaked windows across the lobby before confessing, “I don’t know. You seemed...set in your ways…busy with your plans.”

George shook his head with a soft chuckle, “Busy, yes, but not so busy that I’d forget someone who made such an impression. What about you? How’ve you been?”

You looked back at him in the dim lighting of the crowded lobby in your darkened corner away from the hoards of strangers. He seemed to be brighter than everything around you, standing out from the dreary surroundings that swarmed you, a beacon of comforting light, a breath of fresh air. The fact that he remembered you had your insides stirring with butterflies, leaning into the realization that maybe he had been dreaming about you just as much as you had been dreaming about him over the last year. 

“I’ve been...managing.” you answered gently, “Life’s been a bit of a whirlwind.”

“Work?”

“Busy.” you nodded down to your laptop case that was fastened to the handle of your suitcase. 

George noted your gesture, “Another business trip? Here in Milan?” 

“Yeah. There were a few design shows and suppliers my firm wanted me to visit.” you said, as if you owed him an explanation. Then, out of desperate curiosity at how crazy this was, you asked, “What about you?”

“Oh, work, yeah,” George answered with a curt nod in agreement, before gesturing to the chaos of the crowd and the storm that still powered on through the large paned windows, “I was supposed to be flying out today but…” 

“Me too.” you said when he faded out, following his gaze to the torrential downpour battering the streets of Milan. “So of course now I have no flight and no hotel room.”

He looked back at you, puzzled, “No hotel room? You checked out already?”

“My booking had expired,” you explained. “The next guest needed my room. Did the same thing happen to you?”

George hesitated before replying, “No, actually…I managed to keep my room for another night.”

Your eyes widened, “What, really? How?”

He pocketed his phone with a tight smile, “I offered to pay double for tonight.”

“Double?” you gaped, knowing how much your work had covered for your room in such a luxury hotel, “But that’s, like, four thousand dollars.”

George let out a slightly nervous laugh and a half shrug, “Yeah, well, it was that or sleep on the sidewalk.”

You blinked in astonishment, trying to wrap your mind around the expense. “I can’t believe you actually paid that. That’s...a lot of money.”

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugged off the cost with a nonchalant air, barely phased by what would seem like a significant dent to most, “Desperate times, right?”

You studied him, feeling a mix of admiration and envy, which you masked with a lighthearted comment, “Well, I suppose it’s good to know someone’s luckier than me tonight.”

George’s gaze intensified as he spoke, “Actually…my suite is more than spacious enough for two, if you need a place to stay tonight.”

“Oh, I-” you stumbled over your words as flashes of what sharing his hotel room in Paris led to filled your mind. Shivering, you finished your thought, “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense,” he assured you lightheartedly, “Meeting like this has to mean something. I’m not going to let you sleep outside. That’s just ridiculous.”

Your demeanor softened, your apprehension easing, “Well, if you’re sure it’s not a problem...”

George nodded with a genuine smile that made your stomach flutter with butterflies, “Great. It’ll be nice to have some company too. And this means we’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”

You mirrored his smile with appreciation, albeit a touch of shyness ghosting over your features, this entire situation completely unexpected, “Alright; lead the way then. I’m curious to see what kind of room warrants a double payment.”

George chuckled softly, “Trust me, it’s nothing too extravagant.”

He gently rested his hand on the small of your back to guide you as you both turned for the elevators, his ghostly touch sending a shiver up your spine. It had been a year since he had last touched you and the fantasy-like sparks that his fingertips blazed across your skin were a welcome reminder of where you had left off. 

As you followed him, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anxiety and anticipation. The storm outside seemed to mirror the storm of emotions within you—an unexpected chance to reconnect with someone from your past, bringing both excitement and uncertainty. 

Standing in the cramped elevator, shoulder to shoulder, the sudden silence after the chaotic lobby was almost deafening. The air between you felt charged, as if neither of you knew quite what to say after such a long time. You had shared a passionate and intimate night in Paris, but here and now, you were still essentially strangers. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if approaching him had been a mistake.

But then the rickety elevator reached the second floor of the historic Milan hotel and George helped to pry open the metal grate so you could step out into the hallway with your suitcase. He led the way towards his room and you followed closely, shamelessly eyeing the way his backpack hung over one shoulder, looking heavy and bulky, and part of you wanted to be nosy and unzip it to see all the secrets he held within. Even after Paris, he held this sense of mystery about him that still plagued you. 

When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, you were greeted by an elegant entryway, complete with a console table holding a bowl of fresh fruit beneath a landscape painting directly opposite the door. You paused for a moment, expecting a standard room similar to the small space you'd been staying in the past week. Instead, what lay before you was something altogether different—larger, more luxurious; the pinnacle of the Four Seasons Milan.

George, moving with the ease of familiarity, tossed his room key and wallet onto the console table without a second thought, then disappeared to the left. A flood of warm light spilled into the entryway as he turned on the lights, beckoning you to follow. Not wanting to linger awkwardly in the doorway, you toed off your shoes and then trailed after him, entering a spacious living area that caught you entirely off guard.

The room was stunning, a stark contrast to the cramped quarters you’d grown used to. Ornate stucco designs adorned the twelve-foot ceiling, a remnant of the building's 15th-century origins, casting an elegant shadow over the spacious, open layout. The walls were tinted the faintest pink to add a bit of colour to the room, contrasting the rich dark wood floors beautifully. To your right, two cream-upholstered couches flanked a large flatscreen TV that backed onto the courtyard beyond four large paned windows. Of course, with the storm still raging outside, there was little to see beyond the glass.

So your gaze shifted left, where an oversized four-poster wooden bed dominated the room, facing towards the windows. The luxury linen sheets were pulled tightly over the king size mattress, pillows fluffed to perfection, almost so pristine you might have thought someone took an iron to it. His offer to share his room had seemed generous in the moment, a solution to your sudden predicament, but now, with your eyes fixed on the bed, your mind was racing with unspoken thoughts.

Sharing a room wasn’t new for either of you—Paris had seen to that—but the weight of all that remained unsaid lingered between you. A year had passed since that fleeting night, and now, standing here again, you had no idea where you stood with him or what boundaries might now exist. 

The sharp sound of curtains being drawn along metal rods broke your thoughts. George, who had dropped his backpack on one of the couches, was methodically pulling each curtain closed, as if to block out the raging storm outside. His suitcase and duffle bag were zipped shut and already resting beside the couch, having been anticipating leaving that evening just as you had. 

You hadn’t realized you were just lingering dumbly in the entryway before he turned to face you, curtains closed and leaving only the light of the table lamps to illuminate your surroundings, and he set his hands on his hips, “Alright?”

“‘Nothing too extravagant’, he said.” you echoed his modest statement from earlier as your eyes raised back up to the ornate ceiling again. 

George’s gaze followed yours and he smiled faintly at the ceiling decoration before looking at you again with an amused half-smile, “Yeah, that’s what I said. I did say it was a suite.”

You met his gaze across the spacious room, “Well, then I must have taken it with a grain of salt.”

“Will it do then?” he asked you, making his way in your direction, over the cream paisley rug towards his bags, “Worthy of my double payment?”

“Perhaps,” you smiled playfully, “although the last thing I want to know is how much the double payment was for this.”

“A gentleman never reveals his secrets.” George sent you a little wink as he unzipped his backpack. He then gestured aimlessly to the room as he rifled through his bag, “Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to wash up a bit and change out of these damp clothes.”

“No rush.” you said gently, stepping out of the way to let him head back into the small hallway towards the bathroom, a change of clothes in hand. When he passed by you, he set a gentle hand on your waist to slip past politely, leaving a lingering warmth in his wake. 

When he shut the door behind him, you were faced with the spacious suite to yourself. You made your way farther into the room and set your suitcase beside his, your eyes lingering on his half opened backpack he had been rifling through only moments before. Looking back to the hallway to make sure he wasn’t about to come back out claiming he forgot something, you took a slow tentative step towards it. 

He was such a mysterious figure—even back in Paris—and you were desperate to learn a little something about this man that never seemed to leave your mind or your heart. He seemed to be a vault and you wanted to know at least something more about him before whatever might have transpired that night. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

You gently rested your finger on the open zipper of his backpack to pull at the fabric to peek inside. The shadows from the warm table lamps didn’t help you see much in the dark confines of the bag so, with one more glance towards the direction of the bathroom for safe measure, you entirely reached your hand in. 

The first thing you felt was something soft and smooth like some sort of tightly manufactured fabric. You grasped your fingers around the item and pulled it out to be met with a sky blue glove in your hand. It wasn’t like a winter glove or a medical glove…more of some sort of safety glove but incredibly light. The unusual print of a faux watch around the wrist made you crinkle your brow in confusion. 

It was tossed back in the bag and, instead, your fingers found the pleather cover of a thin notebook. You pulled it out, admiring the unassuming cobalt blue cover for a moment in your hands before you opened it to the first page. In neat writing, the name George Russell was printed in the top right corner, the G and R large and curling compared to the other letters. Well, now you at least had his surname. 

You thumbed through the pages for a brief skim, most of the words you did see didn’t make much sense to you. Delta… power unit… blistering… undercut… You opened to one of the pages and read a bit more in detail but the jot notes were messy and full of words you didn’t understand. What was this guy’s job?! Clearly it was an important one with all of the technical and mechanical notes taking up the pages of the notebook.

The sound of the bathroom door opening again had you stuffing the book back in his backpack and you nearly threw yourself onto the opposite couch, phone in hand, desperate to look as casual as you could fake. George emerged from the bathroom in lounge pants and a t-shirt, feet bare and his hair still a bit of a damp wavy mess atop his head. A rumble of thunder sounded from outside, its strength barely muffled by the closed windows and drawn curtains. 

“It’s really raining cats and dogs out there, isn’t it?” George stated as he unzipped his duffle bag and tucked his worn and re-folded clothes inside it. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, a small smile hinting at the corner of your mouth at his little idiom.

“Did you want to get changed?” he asked as he stood up straight again, gesturing haphazardly over his shoulder towards the bathroom. 

He wasn’t as flirty and insistent as you remembered him back in Paris; he seemed calmer now, more grounded, mature, sure of himself. You treaded the water carefully, trying to figure out where you stood after a year apart. You couldn’t deny your obvious attraction to him—he was still just as handsome as you remembered—but you couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered within you. Was this the same man who swept you off your feet so effortlessly in Paris, or had time and distance changed both of you to, once again, be complete strangers? You weren’t sure if you were ready to fall back into old habits, especially when so much had gone unsaid between you, so many unknowns. Still, the pull toward him was undeniable, like a force you couldn’t fully resist, even if you wanted to.

“Oh, uh,” your eyes dropped to your suitcase that was sitting in front of him, “I think I’m okay for now.”

George pulled a polite smile, “Okay.”

He walked around your bags and joined you on the couch, sitting a polite distance away but enough that you could feel the dip of the cushion when he sat down. His arm rested aimlessly over the back of the couch, his fingertips barely reaching the edge of your arm. 

“I still can’t believe it’s really you.” George said gently, a calm smile on his face, his intense gaze focused all on you, “After a whole year…out of all the places in the world…what are the odds?”

“I know.” you gushed, the casual conversation helping to ease your momentary stresses. You rested back into the couch a little, facing towards him, “I was sure I’d never see you again after Paris.”

“Me too, although I was hoping.” George confessed gently, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you after you left that morning.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his confession, a solidification that at least part of your feelings were mutual, “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” George chuckled at your bashful question, still looking over at you from the opposite side of the couch, “That was some night we shared. I haven’t experienced anything like that before.”

“Or after?”

“Or after.” he conceded. “You?”

You shook your head faintly, “Me neither. Tried but…nothing came close.”

George’s tongue slipped past his lips, wetting them a moment as he processed your words, before breaking into a modest symmetrical smile, “Well, glad we’re in the same boat then.”

His arm that was resting over the back of the couch shifted slightly so his fingers grazed your shoulder. Cautious, testing. Of course, you didn’t stop him. You noticed his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your heart race, so many unreadable things in the storm of his blue eyes. The persistent rumble of the tempest outside lingered in the background. 

“So, how’s life been treating you since Paris?” you asked, attempting to shift the focus to something lighter while gauging his mood and trying to pull more out of him. “Have you been on any more adventures that I should be jealous of?”

He chuckled softly, leaning back with a rueful smile. “Some here and there but, you know, the usual. Taking it day by day. This last year was extra busy so…not much time for anything outside of work.”

You raised an eyebrow, pitching a trying, “Not many female suitors met your fancy?”

George’s eyes twinkled with mischief, lolling his head to the side to almost rest his cheek on his bicep that was draped over the back of the couch. “Not quite. Or maybe you just set a pretty high bar.”

You laughed softly, feeling the tension ease between you. “Flattery, I see.”

“Flattery, or the truth.” he shrugged coolly. His fingers that were resting ever so faintly on your shoulder reached up to dance through the loose strands of your hair framing your face. He breathed out a gentle, “Nothing has been quite as memorable as Paris. No one has been as enchanting as you.”

“No one has been as incredible as you.” you replied effortlessly, your voice a soft hum. 

George’s lips curved into a slow smile, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Oh? Is that your way of saying I’ve ruined you for anyone else?”

“Well…” you faded out for a moment before giving the smallest chuckle, “Perhaps.”

You just stared at each other for a moment, all your senses honed in on the feeling of his fingers gently playing with the ends of your hair. He was enchanting; just as you remembered him. His sly little smile and the hint of flirtation in his slightly cocky response was so reminiscent of the man you met a year ago. His big blue eyes staring at you like that - like there were a million things going on in his head but not a thought on how to say them out loud - framed in long lashes had your heart fluttering in your chest. 

“So… what happens now?” you asked quietly, barely above a whisper, unsure if you wanted to ask the question but knowing it hung suffocatingly in the air between you both.

He sighed softly, leaning back into the couch as he glanced up at the ornate ceiling for a moment in thought before tipping his head to the side to meet your eyes again, “I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to figure that out.”

A slight pause lingered between you. The storm rumbled on through the walls of the historic hotel. You just had to bite the bullet. 

“Do you want to figure it out?” you asked finally.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” George replied, his voice lower now, more intimate. The weight of his gaze was undeniable, pulling you in like gravity. “I wouldn’t have invited you up to my suite.”

His stare, his words, the ghostly touch of his fingers in the ends of your hair and over your shoulder, everything was electric. A flash of lighting peeked through the edges of the closed curtains. You felt your pulse quicken at his presence, but still, you needed to hear it clearly. “And what does ‘figuring it out’ look like to you?”

George’s lips twitched into a subtle smile as he leaned in slightly, “Depends. What does it look like to you?”

It was an invitation—one that made your stomach twist in both excitement and nerves. He always had done that since the moment you met him: always turning your questions back to you first. It was both infuriating and amusing. Through it all, you couldn’t deny the magnetic pull that still lingered between you two, the remnants of a night long ago that neither of you seemed to have forgotten.

“Well…” you began, slowly, tentatively, “I suppose we could start by seeing where tonight takes us.”

George’s smile deepened, “I like the sound of that.”

You mirrored his warm smile, facing each other on the couch. With his agreement, you cautiously reached out and set your hand on his knee, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his lounge pants. Despite your touch, his gaze didn’t waver from your face. 

“And I think…” he then said, his fingers lightly brushing up the side of your neck and along your jaw as his body moved naturally into your space and his voice took on a more playful tone, “If you’re in agreement…we’ve got some unfinished business to take care of, don’t we?”

For a moment, you froze as if you had never kissed someone before in your life. On the contrary, you had your fair share of kisses and especially over the last year when trying to find someone that made you feel the way George had but to no avail. But, here, now, with this heavy desire between you after so long, it all felt so new again. You felt so shy under his presence, warm under the way he touched your face and cradled your jaw in his large hand, nothing but putty in his palms. 

You leaned in with him, sharing the responsibility of meeting halfway for your lips to lock in a slow tentative kiss. The storm raged outside, the rumble of thunder matching the rapid thudding of your heart in your chest. For those first few seconds, the two of you sat there, motionless, for a moment. Then, when you both broke away for a breath, your eyes met in the shadows of the warmly lit hotel suite, sharing silent conversation. 

One simple gaze into those emotive blue eyes of his sparked an unprecedented sense of need within you. As if driven by an unparalleled force, your hand raised to the back of his neck and you were hurriedly pulling him in again by your own insistent will. He let out a little groan at the surprise intensity of your kiss, slotting his lips with yours. 

Any momentary shyness from your unexpected reunion that had previously filled your stomach was now tossed out the window into the storm. The familiar and long awaited taste of his lips on yours had heat burning over your body, your hand tangling in the roots of his hair as you shared sensual kisses on the plush couch. In such close proximity, your senses were taken up by nothing but him; the faint scent of his cologne, the masculine musk of sweat and lust, and subtle hints of rain from his journey through the beginnings of the storm. Nothing had smelt as wonderful to you as he did. 

You shifted on the couch slightly to face him a bit better, slinging your arm around his shoulders entirely to really pull him into you. Your heads tilted as if by some instinctive force to deepen your kisses, the faint lewd sound of your lips meeting and parting muffled only by the howling storm outside. At the same time, you both offered a bit of tongue, sharing brief smiles into your kiss at how in sync you were, how hungry for each other. His thumb swiped over your jawline and caressed your cheek in time with your slow sensual kisses and you offered him a small hum of approval. 

George let out a pretty moan into your mouth while his hand moved from the side of your face into the back of your hair. He fisted a snug handful and tugged gently to break your kiss as your head tilted towards the ceiling, so he could move his lips down your neck. 

You let out a breathy, barely audible, “Fuck.”

He hummed against your skin in reply, trailing slow open mouthed kisses up the side of your neck before nibbling at your earlobe. The gentle bite of his teeth had you shivering and he licked up the shell of your ear before kissing behind it, making you clutch onto him tighter at the butterflies it sent right to your stomach and between your legs. Your hand rubbed over his broad shoulders and up along the nape of his neck again, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip with a small moan as he kissed you in ways no one else seemed to be able to. 

“Fucking missed you,” George breathed out, the heat of his breath against his spit on your skin making you shiver. 

“Missed you,” you echoed to the ceiling, fingers scratching through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “Missed this.”

George groaned against your neck, leaving you with a little bite to the apex of your neck and shoulder, before his lips were locking with yours in another heated kiss. Right away, your tongues were pushing insistently against each other, lips locking between them, bodies melting closer. 

Your hand that wasn’t around his shoulders discreetly played with the hem of his t-shirt, giving it a little nudge to get your fingers underneath. Ever so faintly, your fingertips ghosted over the warm skin of his abdomen, even the slightest touch of his body making your shift needily at his side, wanting to get even closer. 

“Already wanting to get me undressed, baby?” George purred against your mouth, punctuating it with more kisses. You could taste his cocky smile. 

You merely whined in reply at his teasing, unable to speak with how insistently he was kissing you, not giving you a second to properly reply. But then his hands were grabbing the bottom of your shirt and pushing it up and you had no choice but to lift your arms up to let him take it off you. 

As the fabric passed over your head, interrupting your kiss, he spoke in a gravelly voice, “You first.”

Who were you to complain? Especially as he dropped your shirt to the ground without a second look and right away was kissing down your neck again and over your collarbones. He leaned his body into yours just enough for you to get the hint to lean back and he grabbed your folded legs to help adjust your position. You lowered yourself lengthways over the couch, resting back on the rose-coloured down-filled throw pillows as he moved over top of you and found home along the column of your neck. 

His hands groped you over your bra—not your nicest looking one since you hadn’t anticipated this to happen when you got dressed that morning, but he didn’t care in the slightest. His fingers dipped into the cups and tugged them down, greedily pulling your breasts out for his hungry eyes and, without hesitation, for his even hungrier tongue. 

George swirled his tongue around one of your nipples before taking it in his mouth, the sudden heat of his mouth in contrast to the cool air of the hotel room had you gasping, body arching slightly into his touch. He moaned against your chest, sucking on one breast while his hands squeezed the flesh of the other, fingers pinching the nipple. Barely anything had happened by this point in the night and you could already feel yourself falling into dizzy pleasure, that growing ache deep inside you feeling hotter and more prominent. Nothing had ever felt like him. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you let out a pleasant exhale to the high ceilings, head dropping back against the decorative pillows. George pulled away from your breast to give the other the same attention, taking your nipple in his mouth and teasing it with his tongue before giving it a firm suckle. His eyes raised to your face despite the slightly awkward angle, wanting to watch your every reaction. And, as he swirled his tongue around your breast and squeezed your other in a firm grip, his other hand slipped under your back and blindly popped the clasp on your bra. 

You helped him to take it off your arms and dropped it onto the floor with your shirt, barely letting the fabric fall from your hand before he was pulling away from your nipple with a wet pop and leaning up to capture your lips with his again. You moaned softly into his mouth, easily matching his greedy pace of lips and tongue, your hands sliding around his back and bunching the fabric of his shirt in your fists. George rested between your naturally spread legs with practiced ease, his large hands still kneading your breasts in a two handed grip that in any other instance might have been almost painful. Instead, you mewled into his mouth at his firm touches. 

George sucked on your tongue for a moment before breaking away from your lips again, peering down at you beneath him in only your slacks with a look of a man starved. He moved back from you a little, one knee on the couch between your legs and his other foot stabilizing himself on the floor as he grabbed the waistband of your pants and started to yank them down. You lifted your hips up to help him take them off you, shifting obediently until you were left in only your underwear. 

George all but growled at the sight of you, hands dragging down your bare torso, “I’ve dreamt about this body for months.”

His honest words had you moaning with need from where you were splayed out on the couch for him. Your hands slid up his forearms to his biceps, staring at the look of lust on his face as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipples before he was following the contours of your body right down to your thighs. He nudged them open a little wider before he was pulling off his shirt and throwing it across the floor. 

“Oh my God.” you exhaled, nearly trembling in anticipation beneath him. 

George didn’t waste a second as he lowered right down to trail hurried wet kisses down your abdomen and over your navel and to the waistband of your panties. He took the elastic in his teeth to give it a teasing tug before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped sharply at the faint sting, watching him intently as he turned his head to pepper kisses over your inner thighs–one and then the other. 

“Gorgeous…perfect woman…” George breathed against your skin before sinking his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh, just enough for you to feel a bit of pressure. 

You inhaled sharply at the feeling of his teeth, eyes locked on him as he found home between your legs once again. He turned into you, pressing his nose over the front of your panties, and he breathed you in for a moment, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“Mm, my God,” George groaned lowly, his words a lustful rumble, his breath hot against your skin. His hands slid up your thighs and his fingers looped in the waistband of your panties, “Let’s get you out of these.”

He pulled your panties down effortlessly and you moved your legs to help him slide the thin fabric down them so he could discard them onto the floor too. You adjusted yourself on the couch for a moment, trying not to let his unwavering stare on your naked body make you nervous. Maybe that was your fault for holding him to such high standing in your mind throughout the year you had been apart. Regardless, the faint smile that was ever-present on your face was enough of a giveaway that you were ready and willing to progress this evening. 

George moved back down again, his eyes trained in on the apex of your spread legs and as he settled between them, he glided two fingers down your cunt, parting your glistening folds with a purr, “There’s that gorgeous pussy.” 

“George-” you exhaled, barely getting his name off your lips before he was leaning down and dragging his tongue right over you. Your fingers twisted into the fabric of the decorative pillows your head was resting on, mouth falling open ever so slightly as you stared down at him like that. 

His eyes were closed almost peacefully, lapping at your pussy with his full tongue a few times before taking your lips in his mouth to suckle on for a moment. When his eyes opened to stare right up your body at your flushed face, the look of him had you shivering. He gave you a little wink as he kept up the movements of his tongue, up and down, up and down. Your head dropped back against the cushions with a small groan. 

“Mmm…” George pulled away from you with a lick to his lips, his eyes dropping from your face to your pussy as his fingers smeared themselves in the slick of his spit and your growing wetness, “You taste incredible…just like how I remembered it. Fuckin’ delicious.”

“Delicious?” you chuckled faintly to the ornate ceiling. 

“Mhm, you’re absolutely delectable.” he breathed as he leaned back down to taste you again, his two fingers spreading you open for his hungry tongue. 

Your soft laughter fell off into silence at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your clit in slow, careful circles. George’s eyes stayed locked on your face, meeting your gaze as you lifted your head to look down at him again. You could have sworn you saw him smile against your pussy, his tongue finally pressing flat against your aching clit before lapping at it in consistent teases. 

“O-Oh my God-” you withered, eyes nearly rolling as your head fell back gently against the cushions. 

George let out a small hum against your cunt, not letting up the slow but sure pace of his tongue at your clit before he was pursing his lips and peppering sloppy wet kisses to that same spot. The faint suction of his kisses had your thighs twitching at the sensation, a small squeal slipping from your mouth at the same time. Without hesitation, George kept those sloppy kisses going, his fingers still spreading your lips apart for full access to your clit while his other hand blindly rested on your thigh to push your legs apart wider. 

You let him move you as he pleased, more than willing to succumb to whatever he wanted since you knew you would reap the rewards in no time. It was so easy to fall into his hands like putty, your entire body already feeling like jelly under his mouth as he had you spread open on the couch. He still had one knee on the seat of the couch with his other foot pressed to the floor for stability, not able to join you entirely on the modest size hotel room couch without being an entire mess of limbs. 

But whatever he was doing was just perfect and before you knew it, soft moans and breaths of pleasure were tumbling from your mouth. You dropped a hand down to comb your fingers through his soft brown hair, pushing the wavy strands away from his face so you could greedily see more of those big blue eyes. George stared up at you almost unblinking, his lips and tongue working in harmony over your clit just to pull more of those pretty sounds out of you. 

You could feel the warmth buzzing through you, burning hot across your chest and up your neck, a fever of lust that you had missed so strongly. George snaked his arms around your thighs, pulling you in until your legs framed his head, and his tongue spoke for him in silent praises in all the right spots. You couldn’t hold back the moan that choked its way out of your chest, your back arching slightly off the plush couch cushions. 

“Mmm,” George muffled against your cunt, sliding his large hands from your thighs up your hips and to your chest, groping your breasts in both hands as his mouth kept its steady pace between your legs. His pretty eyes were half-lidded and full of lust, staring up at you between your thighs, his nose buried right up against your pelvis as his tongue kept lead. 

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your head dropping back against the arm of the couch with a whine and a firm bite to your bottom lip. You could hardly remember the last time a man that wasn’t him made you come and you were welcoming the reminder of all that it could feel like. The heat, the passion, the pleasure. 

“George-” you whimpered out, elongating the syllables a little, “Please-”

He didn’t even let up to offer any sort of cheeky reply, all too focused on his task at hand and wanting to make you fall apart from just his mouth. His fingers pinched and rolled your nipples insistently, giving you that added pleasure that made your back arch off the bed. Your toes of the foot sandwiched between him and the back of the couch pressed into the cushions, desperately trying to lift your hips off the couch to press harder against his mouth, wanting more. 

George’s tongue moved a little faster now, his eyes locked on your face as your face contorted in pleasure, your breaths heavier, harder, with every second. Your hand tugged relentlessly at his hair as if he needed help to not move away, your body starting to tremor in waves from your hips up to your shoulders. 

“O-Oh-” you choked out and then fell perfectly silent. 

George moaned up against your cunt as he felt you tense and pulse under his mouth, keeping his pace going as your first orgasm of the night washed over you. Your head tilted back against the pillows with a silent gape, eyes screwed shut, your legs parted greedily as your thighs quivered slightly. 

You gasped out of your orgasm, chest heaving, letting it all out with a pleasured moan to the high ceilings of the hotel suite. Your fingers released his hair to reach behind your head and grasp onto the edge of the cushion you were resting back on, anticipating him to stop but he didn’t even falter. Instead, his blue eyes stared right up your body at you, his hands sliding back down your torso to loop around your thighs instead while his tongue kept lapping insistently at your swollen clit. 

Sensitive from having just had your first properly satisfying orgasm in months, you winced slightly as he kept going, taking in a sharp breath. Naturally, your legs tried to close around his head to shut him out as your body needed a second to calm down but he was relentless. He was relentless and you were equally as greedy. You wouldn’t dare stop him. 

Taking your lack of verbal complaints as permission, George kept going, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit to suck gently on it. Your entire body twitched, a small whine slipping from your lips at the intensity of the sensation. 

Your head heaved up from the pillow to stare down at him, your soft breaths and whimpers growing louder and pitchier by the second. With your eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, you gave him a little nod and a silent mouth of ‘yes’ followed by more eager nods. The cushions that cradled your body in the corner of the couch were home to your hands, your knuckles turning white with how hard you were clutching the expensive fabric.

George sucked harder at your clit, slender fingers pressing into your doughy flesh and keeping your thighs snug around his head. Your legs started to shake from the intensity of it, nearly vibrating around his head, while your chest rose and fell faster now and a pretty blush creeped down your neck and over your collarbones from how aroused you were. 

“Fuck-” you choked out, the word barely audible as your entire body tensed up again, leaving you perfect silent once more. 

You swore you were dizzy for a moment with how hard you came the second time, thrust upon you so quickly after your first. Your legs were nearly vibrating through the strength of it, wrapping tighter around George’s head as you writhed to try and ease him up a little through the intense waves of pleasure ripping through you. 

When it faded, you inhaled a sharp breath and a trembling groan, dropping a hand down to push the heel of your palm against his forehead for mercy. 

George pulled away from your pussy with a lewd slurp from the breaking of the suction, his mouth and chin absolutely glistening in the lamp light, and he licked his lips free of the taste of you. His eyes lingered on your cunt, lips swollen with arousal and the intensity of the back to back orgasms he just coaxed out of you. He let out a little content hum before leaning down to press a sloppy open mouth kiss to your pussy, his tongue gliding between your lips to gather one more greedy taste of you before moving back. 

Right away, he was leaning up your body to kiss your lips, his tongue slipping against yours in a lewd dance between sloppy kisses. Your hands raised to the side of his face, sighing pleasantly between kisses that you returned with fervor. The slight flex of his jaw and the flush of his skin under your palms were details that you couldn’t help but focus on, the whole situation otherwise entirely surreal; something you had been dreaming of since that Paris night. 

George moaned softly into your mouth, stealing a few more kisses from your lips before he was pulling back and trailing his large hands up your thighs that framed his body. 

You smiled up at him, your fingertips tracing the lines of his muscular torso, “I missed you like crazy, and after that…I’m not afraid to admit it.”

George’s glistening swollen lips pricked up in a faint smile, “Good, because I missed you just as much, if not more.”

Your hands slid down his arms and he turned his palms upwards to accept your hands, your fingers naturally lacing together in the space between you. They fit together so perfectly; but maybe that was just the pleasure hormones that still clouded your senses. 

The wind of the storm whistled through the closed curtains and George spoke through it, “I hope you’re not tired out yet. I’ve only just started with you.”

The weight of his words had you biting back a smile, “You know I can handle more.”

Liking the wit of your reply, George nodded once, “Alright. Come on, then.”

He gave your hands a little tug to encourage you to follow him off the couch. You complied, carefully getting to your feet on wobbly legs, leaving one hand in his as he walked you over to the king size bed only a few paces away. He helped you onto the bed first, his eyes not leaving you as he unbuttoned his slacks and let them drop to the floor around his ankles. When he stepped out of them, he rested one knee on the mattress and then the other, joining you on the bed. 

You had barely settled yourself in place against the down-filled pillows and the headboard before he was grabbing your ankle and yanking you to the middle of the bed towards him. You yelped in surprise, the sound fading out into a giddy giggle at his action. He shared in your sweet smile as he moved hurriedly to nudge your thighs apart again, setting his hands on the backs of your knees to guide your legs up towards your chest, and he leaned down to lap at your pussy again. 

“Fuck, sir-” you squealed out habitually, the title falling from your lips like second nature. 

George groaned against you at the sound of your voice addressing him as such as he lowered himself down onto his stomach to get closer to you, his eyes trained on your glistening cunt. He then took your lips in his mouth for a greedy suckle, pulling away to watch them settle back in place. His hand moved towards you and he slicked up two fingers in your dripping pussy, slipping up and down over your cunt that was slick in your cum and his spit. 

“God, baby, you taste divine.” he purred, leaning back down to pepper sloppy kisses to your clit while his fingers still caressed the outside of your throbbing cunt cruelly. 

“You’re insatiable.” you giggled breathily, draping your arms above your head, legs falling open to the sides to permit him in, eyelashes fluttering.

“Mm,” George pursed his lips and let a string of spit slip onto your clit, watching it drip down to his fingers that picked it up in their precise strokes, “you’re magic.”

He then slid his middle finger inside you slowly, revelling in the small gasp you let out at the gentle intrusion. In gentle motions, he thrusted it into you lazily, easing you into it, and he turned his head to kiss over your inner thigh. 

Your pleasant hum was muffled by the rumble of thunder from the storm outside, leaving the two of you in a cocoon of isolation and pleasure. Despite the respite from the rain the hotel suite offered the both of you, you found yourself as soaked as ever, all thanks to George and his natural perfection. The proof was housed in the faint lewd sound of your pussy taking his finger, making the filthiest wet sounds as he thrusted it into you in firm but slow motions. 

He groaned softly at the sound, his eyes trained in on the way your cunt hugged his single digit, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth in awe-struck concentration. His other hand slid around your thigh, pulling your leg over his shoulder and, without a word, he leaned down again to give your clit more sloppy kisses while his finger kept its pace inside you. 

“My God, how are you so good at this?” you whined to the ceiling, one hand sliding down the pulled tight bed sheets to grasp onto his forearm as he held you on his mouth. 

George’s soft chuckle was hot against your damp skin and he pulled away from you again, a thick string of spit and cum connecting his plush lips to your pussy, “You just bring out the best in me, baby.”

You moaned dreamily to the ceiling, “Oh, why did we ever leave Paris?”

“I don’t know.” George answered breathily before sliding a second finger inside you, repeating a little quieter, “I don’t know.”

Your body writhed slightly under the added bit of stretch as he sunk both fingers knuckle deep inside you. Your hand gripped a little tighter to his forearm as he kept your leg over his shoulder, keeping you open for him to do with as he pleased. 

“You’re such a good girl for me.” George cooed warmly, starting to move his two fingers in steady thrusts inside you as he leaned down to get his tongue on your clit again. 

He had already made you come twice on his mouth but it was clear he wasn’t settling for only twice. Not that you would ever complain as he had you sprawled out on the king size bed, cradled on expensive sheets, catered to generously by his heavenly tongue and fingers. You were already so sensitive that the touch of his tongue almost hurt, making you squirm on the bed sheets with a broken cry to the ceiling. 

“Baby-” you whined, elongating the vowels, stretching them out so sweetly, needily. 

“Mmm,” George replied against your pussy, his eyes flicking up to look at you as his face was nestled between your thighs. His long lashes kissed the tops of his flushed cheeks with every blink, keeping his attention on your every little reaction as his mouth only helped to slick up his fingers that were still nudging inside you in precise pumps. 

Your breathing was falling shallow as you grabbed tighter onto his forearm until indents from the pressure of your fingers were appearing over his skin, choking out a pitchy, “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

He didn’t let up, keeping his pace going just like that, nudging his two fingers up into that warm squishy spot inside you that had your toes curling. The grip of your hand on his arm had him shifting a little to, instead, intertwine his fingers of his free hand with yours, pinning you down across your bare stomach so you could grip onto his hand instead. Your hips were also starting to jump against his face, over sensitive and so painfully close, and his arm helped to hold you down as he needed you. 

You came for the third time with a muted shriek to the ceiling, back arching and jaw clenching and your entire body tensing up. The heel of your foot pressed between his shoulder blades as the tension rolled through you in messy shudders and he worked you right through it on his fingers and tongue. George had you so sensitive and so pleasured that when you came, you were literally leaking down his hand and his wrist. He groaned hungrily at the feeling, dipping his mouth down to lap at your cunt as you creamed around his fingers.

“Oh my God,” you whined, “Holy shit.”

George pulled away from you slowly, a boastful proud smile on his face, his lips and chin glistening salaciously. He sat back on his haunches, situated between your lazily spread legs as your thighs trembled and your chest was heaving for breath. His warm hands caressed your shins, your knees, your thighs, as he stared down at you. 

You tried to get your senses about you for a moment, blinking up at him as he knelt above you like that, framed by two of the posts and the top bar of the bed frame like a piece of artwork himself. His handsome face offered you a little wink, his own chest heaving a little too, drawing your attention to the rosy flush that started on his cheeks and spilled down his neck and over his collarbones. He was still in his lounge pants, the front tented very obviously from his arousal, the waistband hanging low on his hips so you could almost see his v-line. 

“You alright?” he asked with a soft chuckle. 

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice coming out a little rough from your trio of orgasms, and you draped an arm over your forehead, “Jesus.”

George chuckled and leaned down to kiss your lips once, twice, and then you were moving your arm to rest over his shoulder so he could have better access for more kisses. Your shared kisses were breathless and steamy and tasted like pussy but they were from him and so you deemed them to be entirely perfect. 

You almost protested when he broke away from your lips, until you saw him reaching for the waistband of his pants and it kept you quiet. With a bite to your bottom lip, you watched as he shuffled down his pants and boxers, letting his achingly hard cock free to the warm air of the hotel suite. George managed to drop the last of his clothes off the side of the bed, leaving his body as bare as yours, knelt before you like a marble statue without tearing his eyes away from your lustful gaze. 

“Condoms?” he asked politely, his voice low and warm. 

“No.” you replied easily, “I want it like last time.”

“You sure?”

You nodded up at him, dragging your hands down his abs and watching how his muscles flexed under your taunting touch, “Please.”

A small smile flickered over George’s lips as he nudged your legs apart a little wider to shuffle closer at your confirmation. With your legs hooked over his thighs, he could grab your hips and tug you a bit closer and you let him move you how he wanted. You found that although you barely knew him, you had always entirely trusting of him since the moment you had met in that bar in Paris a year ago. In another world, maybe that would have been your fatal flaw but, here, now, he never gave you a reason to doubt him. 

George reached over you and grabbed one of the pillows from the top of the bed and shoved it under your hips, presenting you at the perfect height. When you were settled, he exhaled with a quiet, satisfied, “There.”

George leaned forward, setting a hand on the mattress beside your head, while his other dropped between your bodies to angle himself against your messy cunt. Your hands went to his shoulders for something to hold onto, staring up at his handsome face above you as he got situated. It was still hard to believe that this was truly happening; that—after a year—you had yet again ran into him by some twist of fate in another foreign part of the world. Then, his eyes met yours, that piercing blue that rendered you speechless, and, in a cautious push, he eased into you slowly. 

You couldn’t help if it was overstated in erotica and adult films, the glorious pressure of his dick sinking into you truly did make your eyes roll back.

George chuckled faintly, rich with pleasure and an ounce of pride, “Mm, my God, you like that, baby?”

“Yeah,” you nearly purred, sliding your hands over his shoulders to link your hands together behind his neck as your eyelashes fluttered, “you feel so perfect.”

“Yeah? You feel incredible for me, my darling.” he praised warmly, leaning down to lock your lips in a passionate kiss as he bottomed out inside you, filling you entirely. 

You moaned softly against his lips from his velvet words, clutching onto the back of his neck at the burning pressure across your hips as your body stretched to accommodate him. He slowly started to move, grinding into you sensually so you could feel every thick inch of him as deep as he could go until your eyes started to burn with tears. 

“M’my God.” you withered, fingers grasping at the roots of his hair, breaking your kiss as your head tilted back against the pillow. He was so deep that the pleasure of his presence was walking on a tightrope with hints of pain, enough that it gave you just what you wanted and just what you had craved for months and months. 

George eased out of you a little more, starting to find a proper pace as he sped up the rhythm of his hips just enough to pull a warm moan from his chest. His eyes locked on yours beneath him, his forearms pressed flat to the mattress on either side of your head, holding him only centimeters above you, powerful and glorious. You could have stared at him for hours just like that. 

As he found a sustainable pace that was equal parts thrilling and gloriously savouring, the steady pace of his cock pistoning into you created the most lewd sound that filled the hotel suite. The sounds of the heavy rain through the windows was nothing compared to the squelch of your cunt pulling him in with every firm thrust. 

George let out a low groan, speaking to you in words bathed in lust, “Jesus, you’re so fucking creamy, baby…just listen to that…”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip despite your smile up at him, hands tight on the back of his neck as you stared into each other’s eyes. You held your breath for a moment to just listen, dizzy on the reality of how wet he had made you that his every thrust sounded absolutely soaking. Your heart raced. Oh, God, it was true that only he could do this to you; you were sure you were entirely doomed. 

The sound of it had the two of you sharing soft breathy laughs that were soon swallowed up by more kisses. Everything was so wet—your tongue-led kisses, the connection of your bodies, the storm raging through the closed curtains—and you wanted to linger in it forever. With your legs draped over his thighs, he could reach generously deep with every precise curling thrust, taking you over with such ease. 

Your hands slid down from his neck, pressing your fingers into the muscle of his back instead, holding him on top of you as he kissed you breathless. It was hardly considered kissing anymore as the two of you were so drunk on lust that you were more so just licking into each other’s mouths, dizzy on the pleasure of your bodies tangled together on the luxury bed. Grinding and writhing and tugging, the two of you moved together in a lazy, needy sea of sheets and limbs, feeling entirely satisfied and yet not satisfied enough. 

George’s fingers slid into your hair, grasping gently onto the roots as his lips broke away from yours to let his breath fall in pants against your flushed cheek. He groaned handsomely as he continued his slow, deep, curling thrusts into your pliant body, holding you in place to keep looking at each other in unbreakable longing gazes. 

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he exhaled, voice strained in lust, “You look perfect…you feel perfect.”

Your hands dragged down his back and back up again, confessing in a whispered, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” he responded easily. 

His fingers scratched gently against your scalp, just adding to the dizzyingly beautiful moment you were sharing as he stared into your eyes in the dim warm light of the hotel suite. He was inside you but you felt like he still wasn’t close enough. Your legs shifted and you linked your ankles behind his back, heels pressing into the flesh of his ass to pull him into his every flexing thrust. 

George moaned lowly, his panted breath hot against your cheek, his eyes heavy-lidded and dreamy. He bucked his hips against yours a little harder, punctuating every thrust with a bit more emphasis, forcing a gasp from your throat every time. 

“Mm, fuck, George-” you withered, voice tight as your fingers pressed tighter into the flesh of his back, staring up into his star-studded eyes. 

“Yeah-” he groaned warmly. “That’s it…”

You were so attuned to the way he fucked you, the way he tended to you so generously, that every stroke had your mind taken up with nothing but thoughts of his perfect dick. 

With a sudden urge to repay the favour, you slid your hands down to his chest and gently pushed at his pecs to ease him back. George literally whined in protest but took your hint, stopped, and carefully pulled out, his gaze searching yours for some explanation why you cut it short when it was feeling so good. 

“You okay?” he asked breathily. 

“Yeah, just-” you shifted on the bed to move from laying on your back to your knees. 

George ran a hand through his hair as he sat back on his haunches, his chest heaving as his eyes followed your every move. You shifted around to face him properly, lowering down almost onto your stomach, ass up, until you were eyelevel with his dick. It was still glistening with your essence, slicked up in you, and a small pearl of precome slipped out of the tip as if to prove how achingly hard he was for you. 

You wrapped a hand around him and leaned down to lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, before finally sinking your mouth down around him. George let out a soft hiss at the first touch, his head dropping back just a little. 

“O-Oh my-” he exhaled shakily, bunching your hair back out of your face and holding it in a makeshift ponytail in one hand to watch as you started to bob your head into his lap. “Jesus-” he withered, his tongue darting out to lick his lips before his teeth were sinking into his bottom one. 

The weight of him on your tongue made you salivate with desire so much that it was almost embarrassing, dribbling down the shaft of his dick and over your hand as you worked him off. You let out a hungry moan, hollowing your cheeks a little on every up stroke to really lean into that greedy suction that made his eyes roll. 

“Yeah…good girl.” he groaned handsomely, “You know just what I like, don’t you, baby?”

You hummed in agreement around his cock in your mouth, eyelashes fluttering closed to give him your full focus, bobbing your head a little more insistently in time with the twisting tugs of your hand. It made the most lewd sound as you took him into your mouth over and over, overpowering the noise of the storm through the closed curtains with the wet squelch of your mouth instead. 

“Mhm…you’re just loving this cock like a good girl, aren’t you?” he purred, his free hand sliding down between your shoulder blades and over the curve of your ass in the air as he watched you intently. There was that stunning dirty talk he seemed to offer so effortlessly; the kind that no one else seemed to be able to match since Paris. It just made you want to give him more, desperate to pull more of that wonderful praise from his filthy mouth. George gave your ass a little smack, “Yeah, you are. Perfect girl…perfect mouth.”

You moaned around him, keeping the pace of your mouth going even at the slightly awkward angle leaning downwards from your knees. But how could you ever think about moving when his hand was caressing the curve of your ass and his fingers were teasing over your sopping pussy, taunting you with what you wanted. 

Silently pleading with him, you pulled your mouth off his dick with a thick string of spit still connecting you while your eyes looked up his toned body to his flushed face. He looked like a marble statue like that; his muscles firm and precise and glorious, and you leaned in to press a wet kiss just under his navel. Your hand kept stroking his cock while you trailed slow open mouthed kisses along the stripe of downy hair that lead to the base of his dick, showering him in adoration. 

George groaned prettily from above you, his fingers gently rubbing at your pussy until he was sinking two inside you. You nuzzled your face into his trimmed hair, breathing him in through a pleasant moan as he started to finger you lazily. With your hand still moving on him, you turned your head to the side to drag your tongue along the shaft of his dick, your hot breath mingling with your spit to have him shivering. 

“Oh my God, baby,” he groaned gorgeously, pulling his fingers out of you to smear your creamy arousal up to your asshole, “this okay?”

“Mm…mhm…” you mumbled against him.

George pulled his hand back to spit on his fingers too before lowering them back down to prod at your asshole before slowly sinking one inside. You smothered your tight groan by stuffing his dick back in your mouth, letting him feel the vibrations of your balance of slight pain and immense pleasure. He was gentle with you—he always had been, even back in Paris—giving you a few seconds to adjust to the intrusion before he was then pushing two fingers into your cunt at the same time. 

Your eyes fluttered shut with a groan around his dick, struggling to keep a pace as he lazily fingered you like that. He was still sitting back on his heels, knees spread to give your face ample space to fit between his thighs as you went down on him like a woman starved. The distraction of his fingers had his one hand that was still holding your hair back starting to tighten a little. 

“You can take more, can’t you?” he cooed down to you, gently pushing at the back of your head to try and guide you deeper on his dick, “Loosen that pretty throat of yours and let me in.”

You were never one to deny him anything and so you let yourself take him a little deeper by the guidance of his grasp on your hair. Your hands dropped to the bed sheets beneath him, fingers fisting the expensive white linen while you gagged around him as he reached the back of your throat.

George withered from above you, his voice thick with lust, “That’s it…that’s it, baby. Ohh, yes-”

You could feel yourself pulsing around his fingers buried inside you at the salacious tone of his voice; the pure, raw pleasure that dripped from his every word. Craving more of that, you forced yourself deeper, forcing yourself to choose him over air, burying yourself down his cock until your nose touched the coarse hair dotting his pelvis. Gagging sloppily, you could feel your throat constricting around him, tears burning your eyes as he took up every one of your senses.

His fingers pulled out of you with a sharp intake of breath from his chest, his hand blindly reaching out to grasp onto one of the posts of the bed frame for support, smearing glistening remnants of your pleasure over the expensive wood. You pulled off of him to breathe, gasping through a wet cough as thick strings of spit connected your lips to the tip of his cock, streaking up your hand in it as you stroked him off in needy flicks of your wrist.

Barely taking a second to catch your breath, you nuzzled downwards to get your mouth on his balls, tonguing at them pathetically as if you wanted to cover every last inch of him in your physical appreciation. George’s hand was still tangled in your hair, the once almost neat make-shift ponytail now down to a messy fistful grasp, and his fingers tightening in your roots as he pulled your face downwards some more. His panted breaths and handsome moans were incentive enough.

The sound of your mouth on him was lewd but you just lowered your chest towards the bed some more, wanting to keep giving and giving and giving. It was hard to keep the pace of your hand on his dick with your head nearly under him but you weren’t one to give up; certainly not when the challenge involved him. 

“Hang on-” George panted, gently guiding you back a little so he could change his position. 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and watched with lust-blown eyes as he shifted into a proper sitting position in front of you, propped up on his arms with his legs spread wide. He cocked his head to you—an invitation to ‘come here’—and you crawled closer. 

Sliding down onto your arms between his legs, you were smiling like a kid in a candy shop, trailing kisses up one of his muscular thighs before settling in place. Your arms looped under his thighs, helping him get a little more adjusted in silent discussion before you were dipping down to lick at his perineum. 

George’s head fell back with a tight groan, adjusting to the feeling of your mouth on him again after almost a year. You couldn’t help the thrill that ran through you, moving a hand to gently cup his balls and lift them out of the way so you could move deeper between his spread legs. Your tongue lapped at his asshole, teasing it just a little as your eyes fluttered closed. It was easy to let the lust and need drive you, guiding you into instinctive motions of licking and kissing wetly at his tight rim of muscle just to pull more sweet sounds from his pouted lips.

“Ohh, yeah. I missed you so much, darling.” he withered to the ornate ceiling. 

You hummed pleasantly against him, using your entire flat tongue to tend to him in greedy licks until you were almost making out with his asshole. Your messy hand blindly moved up to grab onto his swollen cock, giving him a few messy tugs at the same time, giving him as much as you could. Back in Paris, you never really got a chance to linger in this moment, really tend to him in ways no one had before, far too consumed with his promise of more. But here, now, you wanted to give him all that he deserved. 

Your free hand pressed your fingernails into the flesh of his thighs as you continued to swirl your tongue around his asshole, prodding at it, lapping at all the right places that pulled more of those sweet sounds from his mouth. You nuzzled your face closer, pushing your tongue inside just a little, loving the way he honestly whimpered. You could have stayed down there for hours just making him feel good, showering him in well deserved affection and adoration until he saw stars. Unfortunately, your neck started to cramp before you could satisfy that visceral craving. 

Smoothly, you pulled away with one more wet tongue-led kiss and moved up his body instead to lean in towards his lips. George didn’t even flinch as his hand came up to cradle your face and he guided you in for a sloppy kiss. Your lips locked like second nature, tongues clashing with practiced ease even after your year apart. Your hunger for him was at extenuating heights, burning hot through your veins, and you found yourself almost crawling onto his lap as he was still splayed out over the bed on his elbows. 

“Okay-” George chuckled into your mouth, sliding his hand down to your throat to gently let your kisses slow, “wait, wait.”

You paused long enough to let him adjust himself to be laying flat on the bed, having to scoot downwards a little so as to not have his head hanging off the end. His feet kicked the decorative pillows to the floor to give his lanky body room to stretch out but his hands were greedily pulling you back on top of him. His large hands fit perfectly on your hips, almost manhandling you to straddle his lap again, and you didn’t need instruction to reach between you and angle his dick up against your almost neglected pussy. 

You were so fucking wet that it barely took any effort to sink down on him, allowing you to bottom out easily in one smooth motion. The both of you shared pleasured exhales as your eyes found each other again through the warmly lit hotel suite and your hands dropped down gently against his flushed and heaving chest. Without a second needed to adjust, you both began to move with an unparalleled need; as if you were both addicts finally receiving the hit of the drug you so craved.

“Yeah-” you squeaked out a little as his upwards thrusts met your insistent bounces right on. 

“Mm,” George groaned underneath you, his teeth sunken into his bottom lip and his hands holding tightly to your hips, “fucking hell.”

He stared up at you with blown wide eyes, the aquamarine of his irises almost eclipsed with the black of his pupils. The room was filled with a chorus of panted breaths and pleasured moans and the lewd clap of slick skin on skin, the heat between you rising tenfold. You could hardly keep your eyes open as he rammed up into you from below, your bounces fading to a stop as he took you over with overwhelming power. He could take whatever he wanted for you; he always did so extremely well, anyway.

Your hair was falling into your face with how you were leaning over him a little and he didn’t hesitate before he was letting go of your hips to raise his hands up to tuck your hair behind your ears. In doing so, he then grabbed two snug handfuls of the hair at the nape of your neck to hold it back for you, also holding your head in place to keep your eyes on his. 

“Ohh my God, baby-” you whimpered, fingernails pressing into his pecs. 

“Yeah?” George gave you a little reassuring nod through his honey-sweet coo, his full eyebrows raising a little as he watched your every expression, “Yeah, just like this?”

“Yes, sir.” you cried out. Your voice was almost trembling as much as your legs. 

His strength and energy was unrelenting, shoving up into you in rapid succession that had you almost seeing stars from how incredibly good it felt. Your hands, one at a time, moved from his chest to land heavily on the mattress on either side of his head, struggling to hold yourself upright. The sounds that tumbled from your mouth hardly felt like they were your own; so out of your mind with pleasure as tears burned the corners of your eyes that you let your instincts take over, pouring moans and whimpers and breaths of his name to the walls of the hotel suite. 

“I know, I know,” George purred to your sounds of ecstasy through his own slight breathlessness from his exertion, still staring up at your face, “You’re taking it like such a good girl, baby.”

He kept one hand in the back of your hair, gripped in a tight fist, and tugged your head back a little to keep that addicting balance of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. His other hand dropped down to deliver a sharp slap (or two or three) to your ass as he fucked up into you in relentless pumps, branding the quivering flesh in a pink blush. You arched your back just a little under the stinging impact, only causing yourself to be positioned on top of him at that perfect angle to have him ramming into your g-spot dead on. 

Your noises halted suddenly in your chest, the air freezing in your lungs, the pleasure just tearing through you as you gaped dumbly to the closed curtains across the room. The sensations filled you up to the brim until you felt like you might entirely combust from it all. This was a dream. Oh, God, this had to be a fucking dream. 

George groaned tightly from underneath you, speaking through his teeth, “I love it when you’re loud but I love it even more when you go silent…fuck.”

You could barely hear yourself choke out his name in the most pathetic sounding voice. The bed sheets beneath him were bunched in your white-knuckled grip, tighter and tighter, as you felt every nerve ending inside you coiling and burning hot. A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye, trailing past your fluttering eyelashes and flushed cheek, hopeless with pleasure. 

“You wanna come for me, darling?” George spoke up to you, his breath hot against your face, addicting. His words spoke wonders to those buzzing nerve endings of yours, sizzling in your brain, pleasure injected into your veins with every syllable, “Come all over my cock…show me who it belongs to. That’s it…come on.”

Your pussy gripped around him tighter and tighter with your impending orgasm threatening to hit you at any moment, making you feel so much more full of him. George grunted hard beneath you at the added effort it took to keep thrusting up into you when you got like that, having to grip onto your hip and your hair a little tighter. 

“Come on.” he groaned tightly, determination throbbing through his veins, “Fucking come for me, baby.”

It hit you like a train, knocking the air out of you for a second as the prickling pleasure took you over in drowning waves and made your ears ring. Your entire body quivered on top of him uncontrollably, desperate moans and cries tumbling from your pouted, swollen lips. George matched your harmonies perfectly, making the handsomest sounds beneath you as the vice-like grip of your orgasm had his head tossing back against the bed with a strained groan. The veins in his neck bulged a little as he tensed up, releasing your hair to grab your hips in both hands.

Your right hand flew back to his chest for some sort of stability as his thrusts stuttered for a moment and you greedily pushed yourself back on him in taunting bounces, finishing him off in seconds. George’s large hands gripped at your ass, almost subconsciously pulling your cheeks apart as if to keep himself as deep as humanly possible as he came. 

There was no feeling you missed more in the prior year than that of him filling you up in thick warm spurts. Your eyes fluttered with bliss as your teeth sank into your bottom lip, moaning softly at the salacious feeling; something saved only for him. As you trembled on top of him, your hand on his heaving chest pressed little crescents into his pecs as you peered down between your bodies, pushing down on him in a few lazy motions to help him ride out his orgasm. 

“Fucking hell.” George finally stumbled out when he could finally catch his bearings, his accent thick and slurred with pleasure.

You could only let out a breathy giggle and you carefully shifted off of him and collapsed into a puddle on the mattress beside him, falling perfectly into the crook of his arm. George sighed warmly and turned his head to press a smiling kiss to your temple, his arm tightening around your shoulders to draw you closer. It was easy to melt into him like that; as if you were meant to be at his side, your body moulding against the shape of his like second nature, your arm snaked around his middle in return. The silent hotel room welcomed your shared panted breaths to the high ornate ceiling, chests rising and falling in time.

George’s lips were resting against your temple still, his eyes contently closed, just trying to catch his bearings. The heat of his every breath fell against your face, reminding you just how real this all was. Your arm tightened around him. Your hand fit perfectly around the side of his torso; feeling how his body was lean and firm with muscle, tightening and relaxing under your palm with his every heavy breath. George let out a small hum, his fingers wrapping around your forearm as you held him like that, skin against flushed skin. 

“I’m always just waiting to wake up right now.” George confessed in a whisper into your hair before leaving a kiss to the same spot.

You let a small smile prick at the corner of your mouth at his words, replying with a soft, “Me too.”

“God,” he breathed, tipping his head back toward the ceiling as his arm stretched above, easing comfortably into the moment. He held you close, tucked securely under his other arm, “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

His fingers danced idly over your bare shoulder, rising shivers in their wake. 

He then added a gentle, “With me.”

You turned into him a little more, draping a leg over one of his just to make sure your bodies were pressed together as closely as possible. You then lifted your head up from his arm and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek and then another to the corner of his mouth, and he effortlessly turned his face towards you to accept a third kiss to his lips. 

It was a little ungraceful with how you were both smiling into it but it didn’t phase either of you. Your hand slid over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips and the faint dusting of hair between his pecs, absentmindedly touching him as your lips locked in lingering sensual kisses. His tongue played lazily against yours, delicate and sweet, both of you just wanting to feel close to each other after the intense passion you had shared. 

Finally, after a blissful eternity, you broke away from his lips to reply to his earlier statement, bumping your nose against his, “Nowhere else I’d rather be, really.”

George’s face broke into a handsome grin and he tangled his hand in the back of your hair to pull your lips on his for another kiss. You rested down against his chest, matching the pace of his lips with breathless fervor, unable to get enough of him or to truly be entirely satisfied but in the best way possible. 

When you broke apart again, he rested his head back down on the bed with a content sigh. He slid his hand along the side of your face and he swiped the pad of his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, staring at you warmly. Your fingers drummed against his chest before you spoke as you started to get up, “I’m just going to get some water and towel.”

“I’ll get it.” George jumped in politely. 

“Oh-”

He shifted out from underneath you and gently guided you to lay back properly against the bed and the headboard before he disappeared into the bathroom without another word. You couldn’t help the smile that grew across your face in your moment alone, stretching wider and wider until it became an absolute grin. You felt amazing—your body felt amazing—and he was the perfect gentleman, just how you had remembered and sworn into your memory. 

George returned only seconds later with one of the hotels plush white towels over his arm and two glasses of water in hand. He was still entirely naked with faint remnants of his gentle blush down the sides of his neck and over his chest, hair tousled and eyes shining. 

“Here you are.” he said gently as he reached the side of the bed and held out one of the glasses to you. 

“Thank you.” you replied in a soft whisper. 

He then passed over the towel to you next and you adjusted your position against the pillows and headboard to spread your legs and mop yourself up a little from the mess that was leaking out of you. You didn’t stress too much about it and, rather, tucked the towel under your bum instead so you could focus on your hydration and the handsome man that was joining you on the bed. 

“You know,” you spoke casually as you lifted your water glass to your lips, “your refractory period is insane.”

George smiled at your statement, almost pridefully, and he explained with a shrug as he situated himself into the spot beside you, “I do a lot of cardio.”

You figured that was a euphemism for something else; something relating to the hints he gave to you back in Paris about his lack of desire to settle down. You ignored the unforeseen pang in your chest as you replied playfully, “Should I be jealous?”

George chuckled warmly, “No, like, genuinely cardio…at the gym.”

“Oh,” you let out a breathy laugh along with him, trying not to sound too relieved, “makes sense.”

There was a moment of silence as you both sipped your water; thick but not awkward. You mind pondered his admission of his gym-going tendencies. It explained a lot in terms of how he was in bed; how easily he could manipulate you, how long he could last, not to mention how he looked. Your eyes drifted back to his backpack still sitting on one of the couches across the spacious hotel suite, hiding many secrets within. 

His lips on your jaw startled you back to reality for a moment. Breaking into a bashful smile at his slow kiss, you let out a small pleasant hum, lifting your water glass for one more sip. At some point while you were momentarily distracted, he had put his glass down on the small table beside the bed, leaving his hand free and faintly cold from the water to ghost over the side of your neck. You shivered, tilting your head to the side instinctively to give him room to lick a warm stripe up the side of your neck before leaving soft open-mouthed kisses under your ear. He nipped at your earlobe. 

“You up for round two?” he asked, his voice warm and low in his chest. 

“Round two? More like round five.” you countered with a dreamy chuckle, counting out how many times he had brought you to orgasm that night thus far. You followed it up with, “You can go again already?”

“Just about.” George's breath sent chills down your neck as his thumb, resting firmly on the side of your throat, slid slowly around your throat with deliberate purpose. “If I keep kissing you a little longer…”

His hand drifted away from your throat and down your naked body, his head resting against yours as his lust-blown eyes trailed his fingers down to your chest and he pinched one of your nipples lazily.

“...If you keep laying here like a fucking goddess a little longer.”

You turned your face towards his so you were forehead to forehead, tilting yours up slightly to meet his lips in a sensual kiss. When his lips parted wider to expertly swallow up yours, his hand splayed entirely around your breast and gave it a firm squeeze at the same time, pulling a shaky exhale from your nose. You grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulling him impossibly closer, licking your way into his mouth until the coldness of his tongue from his water made you shiver. 

When you pulled away long enough to set your glass safely on the bedside table, his eyes followed your every move with a hunger you couldn’t ignore. The heat sizzled between you, his touches over your chest, your body, feeling like a chemical reaction at the atomic level. It lured you towards him again, that natural magnetic pull you felt towards each other since the first moment your eyes met in that Paris bar almost a year earlier. 

You moved back in to kiss him again, but George turned his head slightly, letting your lips graze his cheek. He lingered there, savoring the charged closeness between you, and his breath came soft and steady, drawing out the tension before he finally spoke.

“Maybe you could, like,” George licked his lips, watching his fingers swirl around the hardened bud of your nipple, “play with yourself a little for me?”

His voice was as smooth as fine whiskey, rolling through your body like intoxicated warmth. You let his words settle over you, full of intense desire and need that only you could fulfil. 

“You really want that?” you questioned faintly. 

George nodded with a low hum as if he were already imagining it. His blue eyes raised to meet your gaze, insistent and sure of himself, drawing you into this orbit of salacious ideas and lustful exploration. It all swirled all around you. Then, without thinking, your gaze drifted back across the room to your suitcase positioned beside the couch.

“Wait here.” you said.

George’s eyes followed you as you got up from beside him and patted over to your bags in the nude. He tucked an arm behind his head as he lounged back comfortably on the king size bed, curiously watching you as you unzipped your suitcase. You rifled through your pristinely packed items before coming out with your toiletry bag and finally unzipping that as well. Finally, you found what you were looking for. 

When you returned to the bed, setting one knee on the plush mattress and then the other, you held your bullet vibrator out to him with a cheeky grin. George’s eyes flashed with intrigue and almost a hint of pride, a sly smile spreading across his face. He grabbed you around the waist and yanked you back down beside him. 

Giggling at his impetuous pull, you fell against the pillow beside him again, slinging your arm around his shoulders as he dipped down to kiss you smoothly. His hand impatiently went to nudge your legs apart but you were already spreading them yourself, welcoming his fingers against your leaking cunt in messy caresses that pulled eager moans from both of your chests. The towel beneath you wrinkled. 

You broke away from his lips to look down your body, pressing the power button of your vibrator as you did so until the steady buzz filled the hotel room. George let out a warm, impatient hum. For the week you had been in Milan for this business trip, you had resorted to your trusty vibrator at night a few times, your mind having wandered to memories of him. And now, on your last night in the city, your fantasies were personified into the handsome man lounged out naked beside you on the king size bed.

The touch of the vibrator against your clit made you flinch. A smirk pricked at the corner of George’s mouth as he stared down at you, propped up on one hand on the mattress with his entire body turned towards you. His perfectly straight teeth sunk into his bottom lip, his eyes drifting down your bare chest, your stomach, your hips, to where your hand was between your legs. 

He watched you for a second in silence, his free hand moving to gently caress your leg, his slender fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He had satisfied you greatly since you had come together in that hotel room but also left you so sensitive to touch that the buzzing toy almost felt like too much. You grazed it ever so faintly over your swollen clit, just enough to fill your veins with warmth and make your breathing a little heavier; just enough to get you going again for him. 

George’s hand kept its firm caresses along your inner thigh, his blue eyes focused on your hand moving lazily between your legs. He licked his lips, his voice sure of himself as he asked cockily, “Did you think of me when you touched yourself this last year?” 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, the rising pleasure making you all too honest, “every time.”

The chuckle that left his lips was low and rumbling, his reply nothing more than an exhale, “I thought of you too.”

George drifted his hand closer towards you, fingers barely touching the outside of your pussy, just under where you held your vibrator. He teased you with the ghostly presence of his touch, pulling a needy whine from your throat while your hips fainty tried to move towards his hand. Your head spun with the confession that he thought of you when he got himself off too…the assurance that it hadn’t been just a one sided longing over the last year. You wondered if he was just as pathetic as you: thinking about your night together while having sex with other people, everyone else just so unfulfilling in comparison. 

Giving into you without hesitation, George slicked two fingers up in the slickness of your pussy and then slowly sunk them inside you. Your head arched back against the pillow with a strangled gasp, your vibrator gently sliding back and forth over your clit in languid motions that he matched the pace of with his fingers. 

While doing so, he continued his thought aloud, “This whole year I couldn’t stop thinking of how it felt to come inside you…how you begged for it.”

“George…” you withered.

“And now look at you, here with me again, filled right up.” he purred, fingers curling a little more insistently inside you, but his eyes were now focused right on your face. 

Despite the towel beneath you that was still catching the excess cum that leaked out of you, there was still enough for George’s fingers to be making the lewdest squelching sound with every precise thrust. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as the sound filled the room, harmonized with your panted breaths and little whimpers and the rustle of sheets as you squirmed on the bed and grabbed the duvet in a tight grip.

But then he was pulling his fingers out and snatching the vibrator from your hand and turning it off with nothing more than a firm, “Come here.”

You heaved for breath at the sudden absence of touch, blinking over at him as he moved off the bed to stand at the side, his other hand grabbing your ankle to pull you after him. His insistence had you giggling, following his lead to situate yourself at the edge of the bed, legs naturally falling open for him. You draped your hair out over the crinkled bed sheets as the heat was once again rising over your skin.

George set the vibrator between his lips so he could wrap both hands around your thighs and yank you closer to the edge of the bed with a small grunt, positioning you right where he wanted you. You stared up at him standing before you, his naked body bathed in the warm light of the hotel suite, and as your eyes raked down his toned figure, you could see how hard he was again. He pulled the vibrator from his lips, leaving it between his fingers like a cigarette, as his large hands slid up your legs, angling them straight up his torso until your calves were resting on his shoulders. 

“Oh my God.” you groaned at the visual of the position you found yourselves in, the godlike power he held as he loomed over you like that. 

“Yeah?” George taunted as he adjusted his footing on the rich hardwood floors. “Already so needy and whiny and I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Please,” you peered up at him under heavy lashes, “please, fuck me.”

“Mm, such a good girl.” George purred, using his hand with the vibrator to keep your legs against his shoulders while his other moved to slide his fingers over your slick pussy. 

He rubbed his four fingers between your lips in sloppy, ungraceful movements just to hear how wet you were—and to slick his hand up in it. Because then he was wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock and slapping the tip against your clit a few times. 

You squeaked in surprise, habitually trying to close your legs with how sensitive you still were, but he held the power over you to keep you how he wanted you: legs open. George kept slapping the heavy head of his dick against your cunt a few more times, just to watch you squirm and to hear how fucking soaked you were.

“George-” you whined, your voice shaky and pitchy and so unlike your voice that you hardly recognized it when it spilled past your lips. 

He didn’t offer a reply and he didn’t need to, simply angling his cock just right to sink so effortlessly into you. Your eyes locked on each other’s almost instinctively at that moment, faces fluttering with pleasure as your bodies connected once more, sharing withering exhales as he sunk deeper into you until he filled you completely. You could feel the heat of his firm thighs against the curve of your ass, proving how closely you were intertwined. 

“Motherfucker.” George swore through his teeth, an expletive almost entirely out of character for him; so straight to the point and vulgar. His eyelashes fluttered shut and just as they did you could have sworn his eyes were almost rolling. 

His hips pulled back slowly and when he shoved them back into you, he let out a tight grunt, his hands tight around your ankles on either side of his head. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip, staring up at him as he started to set a steady pace, his testing thrusts forcing gentle, needy moans from your throat. 

“Yeah…good girl.” he purred, dropping a hand down to push two fingers in your mouth, “Good fucking girl…such an insatiable little cockslut, aren’t you, darling?”

Your lips wrapped around his fingers with ease, sucking on them greedily as if using them as some way to ground yourself in reality, and you replied to him with an agreeable hum that was muffled by his two digits. George thrusted into you a little harder, a little faster, his jaw clenching as if in intense concentration, holding himself back and yet still wanting to give you everything he could. He wasn’t going crazy with it, just precise, firm thrusts that gave you that warm addicting pressure of being stretched and filled. 

When your head tilted back against the bed with a moan, his fingers slipped out of your mouth, dropping a string of spit over your chin. His hand, instead, went smoothly to your neck, slender fingers wrapping around your throat with a firm squeeze that had you inhaling sharply. George shoved into you in harder strokes, the intensity making your eyes scrunch closed and you let out a broken moan to the ceiling. You could feel him everywhere and so fucking deep. Your hands dropped to try and grab his hips to ease him up from the overwhelm but he was persistent.

He asked down to you lustfully, “Think you got one more in there for me, baby?”

You didn’t even need to think of an answer before it fell from your lips, “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah? Want me to make you come again?” George taunted.

“Yes, sir. Please, sir.” you whined, nails scratching over his hips a little. 

Your eyes were still screwed shut as his sharp thrusts into your body had you burning with red hot ecstasy. It was only when the familiar buzz of your vibrator returned did you open your eyes and you heaved your head up to watch as he set the tip of the toy against your clit.

“Ah!” you yelped as your entire body flinched at the touch, paired so torturously with the strong pistoning of his hips. You inhaled sharply through your teeth, “Fuck!”

“Hold that there for me, baby.” George demanded sweetly, his voice like honey. 

You dropped a hand down to take the vibrator from him so you could hold it right where you needed it. You mouthed a silent ‘yes’ up at him, eyes locked on his intense gaze as he kept fucking into you.

“Good girl.” he breathed warmly.

George adjusted his stance at the side of the bed a little, leaning back ever so slightly so his every thrust was angled a bit more upwards than inwards. Of course, a few more strokes and hairline adjustments and he was soon finding that soft, squishy spot inside you that had your free hand flying down to grab his forearm to dig your nails into his skin. 

“Fuck me!” you squeaked, head arching back against the bed with a broken cry. 

George held a proud smirk on his face, both hands holding your legs over his shoulders so you couldn’t run away, shoving into you in those rough rapid thrusts right where you needed him most. You heaved for breath, staring up at him in an expression that almost looked like you were entirely in pain but, in reality, you both knew it was from the pure raw pleasure that was overtaking you. 

It all felt so overwhelming that your hand moved the vibrator off your clit, needing a moment of respite from the intensity of it all. But George was all too attuned to you and he reminded you firmly, “Hold it there.”

You whimpered up at him, settling the buzzing toy down against your aching swollen clit. The combination between its vibrations and the thick pressure of his dick shoving into you in perfect precise thrusts had tears starting to leak from your eyes and trace streaks down your cheeks. Your hand pulled away again.

“Do you need me to do it?” George asked but didn’t wait for an answer before he reached down to grab your wrist to make you hold the vibrator to your clit. His grip was firm, preventing you from moving away, but everything he did was all for you; he wanted to give you exactly what you deserved. 

“George-” you sobbed out in a whiney voice that stretched out all of the syllables of his name. Your back arched off the bed, legs desperately trying to close him out but his other arm was holding them firmly up against his chest, keeping them nicely spread just enough for him to have that space to fuck into. 

“Mhm?” he egged you on, his voice thick with exertion, barely heard behind the buzzing of the vibrator and the ringing of pleasure in your ears, “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Ohh my God!” you whimpered, throwing your free hand across the bed to grab onto the sheets, desperate for something to relieve you of your fast approaching orgasm that coiled inside you at impressive speed. Your toes curled over his shoulders, stuck in place with how he held you, dizzy on the rising pleasure and the heat that slicked your skin in sweat. But that building sensation within the depths of your body was a long awaited one; something you had only ever felt once before in your life…with him.

“God, look at you.” George said through his teeth, still holding your hand with the vibrator against your clit as he fucked you on the side of the bed. 

The sound that came out of your mouth was somewhere between a moan and a sob, struggling to formulate words to tell him all that he was doing to you. He rendered you absolutely speechless in the best way. All you could manage was an ungraceful chant of “yes, yes, yes” in time with his rough thrusts that gradually grew in pitch until you were almost squealing. 

For a second, your entire body almost went completely numb, vision going a little blurry around the edges, and your head tossed back against the bed with a cry that almost echoed through the high ceilings of the hotel suite. George pulled out of you for a moment, letting the gush of liquid release from you, spraying all over his abs and thighs and pelvis and soaking the edge of the bed. 

His hand kept yours pinned to your clit, forcing the vibrator to keep helping you ride out the intense orgasm as he slapped the head of his cock through the messy spurts of liquid that just kept coming out of you, praising you loudly, “Ohh, that’s it! That’s what I wanted! Good fucking girl.”

It almost felt like an out of body experience with your head so fuzzy on pleasure for a second you were sure you were dreaming, his voice sounding so echoed and far away. But then he plunged back into you, dropping a hand against the mattress on either side of your head, and started fucking into you again. It was so much wetter now—so filthily lewd—and the slap of soaked skin on skin filled the hotel suite like ease. 

Your hand dropped the vibrator absentmindedly to the bed in favour of grabbing onto him as he leaned over top of you, your ankles still against his shoulders even as your legs were literally quivering. George moaned handsomely above you, his prince-like features contorted in pleasure; jaw clenched and full eyebrows furrowed as he stared down at you. His brunette waves fell over his forehead and almost in his eyes, bouncing in time with his every sharp thrust. 

Only a few strokes later and he was coming too, his eyes squeezing shut and his entire body tensing with the muscles of his back flexing under your hands. He moaned handsomely, the look of pure euphoria on his face almost being enough to make you see stars if not for the feeling of him spurting warmly inside you. Despite it being his second orgasm of the night, he came so much, lasting longer than you had expected and filling you right up.

Your voice was shaking as he pulled out of you slowly, “Oh my God.”

“Jesus Christ.” George exhaled.

You heaved your head up to look down between your trembling legs as he gently pushed your soaking wet thighs open wider, giving you both a clear visual of how your cunt pulsed through the aftershocks of your orgasm and started to push out globs of creamy white. George licked his lips.

He looked back up at your face, “You alright?”

You smiled up at him and rested your head back down against the bed, draping an arm over your head while your chest heaved with breathlessness, “Yeah.”

With your legs splayed lazily open, he leaned back down over you to steal a kiss. Your other arm slung lazily around his shoulders to keep him there while you shared a few sloppy breathless kisses. When George pulled away again—this time to breathe—the vibrator that had been discarded in the sheets fell to the floor, noisily rattling and buzzing against the hardwood. 

“Fuck.” George muttered and bent down to retrieve it and turn it off.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to look down at yourself and the mess left behind. The expensive sheets were darkened wet beneath you and likely also down the side of the bed while your flushed, sweaty skin was also glistening in wetness between your thighs and over George’s abs and pelvis and leaking down his legs. 

“You’re magic.” you breathed in near awe.

George looked at you from under his mess of hair as he set the vibrator on the bedside table and he broke out into a modest smile, “Why’s that?”

“You’re the only one who can make me squirt.” you confessed dreamily, “God, that’s insane.”

He chuckled warmly and leaned in to give you a few soft kisses, before whispering right to you, “I’m glad I can do that for you.”

The two of you shared a smile and your hand rested on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a few more kisses before you let him stand up straight again. With a deep breath to try and gain your senses back, you asked, “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

“Please.” George gestured towards the bathroom, “Whatever you need.”

He took your arm to help you off the bed and onto your quivering legs and once you were steady, you thanked him softly and took yourself to the bathroom. 

You closed the door behind you and steadied yourself at the vanity, holding yourself up on the luxury marble countertop and staring at your disheveled reflection in the backlit mirror. Despite the tangles of your hair and the tear streaks on your flushed cheeks and everything else that made you look entirely ruined, the sight made an honest smile come to your face. You were floating on air.

The glass shower steamed up quickly under the stream of hot water that cascaded over your body. While you stood in the shower, your limbs quivered with the aftershocks of your night, desperate for the soothing relief of the water that slowly but surely worked to ease them. Despite how nice the water felt, you washed quickly with an unspoken urgency to get back to George, almost as if having him out of your line of vision for too long would make him entirely disappear. 

The storm was quiet by the time you emerged from the bathroom—or perhaps it had stopped earlier but you were too caught up to notice—and George was already in bed, the blankets pooled around his waist. His bare torso was on display in the dim warm light of the suite, his phone in hand and his expression flat as he typed away. He looked up when you came back into the room in only a towel. A faint smile came to his face. 

“Nice shower?” he asked politely. 

“Yeah, it was just what I needed.” you replied with a content sigh, shuffling over to your suitcase to fish out something to wear, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” he replied. 

There was a brief moment of silence as you rifled through your suitcase to find a clean pair of underwear and a shirt. Usually, George was always one to find small talk easy, to fill the silence with something or another. Now, the lingering quiet made you a tad uneasy. 

You stood and dropped your towel to start to dress. George’s eyes flicked to you over the top of his phone screen but then immediately looked back at it as if he didn’t want to be caught staring. Like he hadn’t fucked you to heaven and back only a few short minutes earlier. 

You tried your hand at small talk of your own, “Sounds like the storm is over.”

“Mhm.” George responded, his tone noncommittal, from behind his phone. 

You frowned at his uncharacteristically dull reply and finished getting into your panties and a t-shirt. Stalling for time, you gathered your clothes that had been strewn around the living area of the hotel suite earlier that evening and tucked them away in your suitcase. George didn’t speak. 

Finally, unable to avoid it any longer, you made your way over to the bed and pulled back the covers to get in beside him. George’s face remained focused on his phone, his brows slightly drawn as his thumbs tapped a steady rhythm. From the quick glance you took at his phone screen, it looked like he was composing an email. 

You spoke softly, hesitant to break the quiet tension hanging between you. “What are you doing?”

“Just some work.” he murmured, barely glancing your way.

“At 9pm on a Sunday?”

George sighed, locking his phone and setting it down on the bedside table. “Yeah,” he said, shifting slightly under the sheets to lay down beside you properly. “Booking a flight for tomorrow.”

You watched as he turned to face you, his eyes meeting yours, but there was something different—an almost wobegone look lingering behind his big blue eyes, as if he were wrestling with something he couldn’t quite put into words. Had something happened while you were in the shower?

Feeling a strange tightness in your chest, you swallowed and asked, trying to clear the suddenly suffocating silence, “Are you okay?”

For a moment, his gaze dropped, and his eyebrows knit together, his lips barely moving when he replied, “Yeah.”

But you weren’t convinced. 

“Because you’ve gone weird and quiet on me,” you pressed, keeping your voice soft but steady.

He stared at you for a second or two before letting out a heavy sigh and he reached a hand up to rub at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. You turned onto your side to face him yourself, concern filling your heart as he struggled to find his words. 

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low, “I haven’t been…entirely honest with you.”

Your stomach twisted, a dull ache settling in your chest. You managed to murmur, “Okay…” as your mind raced, bracing yourself for whatever he was holding back.

You braced yourself, waiting for the revelation to land like a punch. He was married. He had a girlfriend. He had a kid. He was a criminal. A thousand possibilities crashed through your mind, each one more unsettling than the last, as you tried to unravel what could make him so nervous…what secret he’d been guarding since Paris. You’d always known he was reserved, almost elusive when it came to the finer details of his life. It made sense—after all, you were practically strangers. But the possibility that he’d been hiding something so big, something that clearly was having a serious effect on him, was unnerving. 

George’s eyes lingered on you, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. He drew in a breath, as if steeling himself, and finally spoke, his voice almost a whisper. “I…haven’t exactly told you the whole truth about what I do.”

Your mind went back to the notebook you had found in his backpack when you were snooping earlier. The confusing phrases in colour coded ink, not to mention the gloves. Your brows knitted together, and you tried to read his face, searching for any sign of what he was hiding. 

“Look,” he said finally, his voice heavy with reluctance. “The truth is…there’s a reason I’ve been traveling so much. Why I’ve been in Paris…Milan…”

“You said you travel for work.” you clarified when he faded out for a moment.

“Yes, that is true.” George relented, “It’s just…not normal work.”

You tilted your head slightly against the pillow, waiting, giving him the space to say what he needed to in the time he needed no matter how much you wished he would just spit it out. His eyes held yours, his gaze intense and searching, like he was hoping for something—understanding, maybe.

Finally, he spoke his truth in a gentle voice, a sense of vulnerability in his tone that was very out of character for the version of him that you thought you knew, “I’m a Formula 1 driver.” 

His confession settled in the air around you. At first you were honestly relieved, knowing that all your crazy theories your mind was making up were thankfully false. The realization sunk in slowly, your gaze tracing the outline of his face as if seeing him for the first time, the guarded intensity in his eyes now made perfect sense.

You didn’t know much about the sport outside of the basic idea. The reality that one of the twenty best drivers in the world was sharing a bed with you felt a little unfathomable. But he was still the considerate—and charmingly cocky—gentleman you had met in that Paris bar, who had swept you off your feet in ways you never thought possible. He had always been so secretive since the night you met but, without him even having to explain, you instantly knew the reason why. If anything, it stemmed from your mental connection to the fact that his offer to pay the hotel double for this suite would have barely put a dent in his pocket. 

The seconds that passed since he had confessed lingered heavily between you. A little caught up in your own mind, you suddenly realized you had to give some sort of response. 

Before you could, George took your silence and kept filling it, “I know I should’ve told you before…back in Paris. But when I met you and you didn’t know me…I didn’t want to ruin it with NDAs or whatever else. I felt normal and I wanted to be just that. Just…George.”

You reached a hand out to set over his against the pillow between you, wrapping your fingers around his palm in a gentle squeeze, “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that,” you said softly, holding his gaze. “I had no idea. I mean, I’ve heard of Formula 1 but I don’t really follow it myself.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he let out a sigh, a calm smile pricking at his lips, “I figured when you didn’t thrust your phone in my face for a selfie.”

Your playful rebuttal was easy, “I would have gone with an autograph book so I could sell it for top dollar.”

George genuinely laughed, his hand instinctively squeezing yours as you shared the lighthearted moment amidst all that heaviness. The banter always came so easily with him. You couldn’t help the way you smiled adoringly at him, not even realizing yourself that your eyes shone when watching the way he laughed. 

A calm silence much more relaxed than the previous one lingered between you as his laughter faded, both of you taking a moment to process. His thumb brushed lazily over your knuckles on the pillow between you. 

Then, with his voice barely above a whisper, he spoke again, “I didn’t want to lie to you anymore. Not after tonight, especially, when all of this feels almost…too good to be true.”

“You weren’t lying to me,” you murmured, your thumb tracing small circles over the warm skin of his hand. “You were protecting yourself, making sure I was here for the right reasons. And honestly, even now—knowing what you do—I still just see ‘George’. The same sweet-talking, impossibly handsome man who bought me a drink in that Paris bar a year ago. That part hasn’t changed. The fact that I’ve done nothing but think about you since then… that doesn’t change, either.”

A small smile softened his face, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of ease in his eyes, as though your words had lifted something heavy from him. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingers as his long eyelashes fluttered shut for a moment, lingering there, the gesture as raw and real as his confession.

“We should talk.”

Your voice sounded almost foreign to you as you spoke those three simple words. George’s eyes opened slowly to find yours, his lips pulling away from your fingers tentatively as if anticipating what you were about to say. 

“About this,” you continued in a whisper, almost afraid to say it out loud, “Paris, Milan…us. Are we doomed to the narrative of spending another year apart until we unexpectedly stumble into each other again in some other foreign city?”

George let out a small hum of acknowledgement, his lips brushing against your knuckles again, his eyes drifting to the sheets pensively. You gave him a moment to collect his thoughts, lingering on the feeling of his warm breath on the fair skin of the back of your hand. 

His fingers tightened around yours ever so slightly as his gaze rose to yours once more. His voice was low and vulnerable as he admitted, “I don’t think I can let you walk away twice.”

Staring into his gorgeous aquamarine eyes in the warm, dim lighting of the hotel suite, you shivered at the sincerity you saw in his irises. From the protected and secretive man you met in Paris, he was dropping those walls for you to open up to the promises of what could be held between you after Milan. 

“Then don’t.” you breathed. 

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[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Teaser

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (tbd), idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!), Mild cursing

Word count: 800-ish for this teaser

Posting date: November 7, 2024

Notes: This is for my friends and moots in the US. Please stay strong. One day at a time, my loves. Future’s gonna be okay 💕 This story is inspired by @yoongznme 's ask/prompt. Thank you for requesting!

Taglist is OPEN.  Leave a comment here to be notified when the story drops.

Masterlist

Namjoon leans back in his seat, sporting an all-too-familiar, slightly conspiratorial glint in his eyes. Hmm. You know that look. 

It's the same one he had when he "casually" set you up to tutor one of his trainee friends in English—the one you let slip was kinda cute. Or when he signed you up to perform with one of his rapper friends in that underground club in Hongdae. Sure, you knew every word of the chorus to eminem’s Stan, but you were not a fucking singer. 

You still did it, though. Both times. 

Namjoon’s especially notorious for volunteering you to do things he insists are "right up your alley." There’s a fire in his eyes when he starts talking about one of his ideas, and before you know it, you're swept up in his vision, already picturing yourself right there beside him, doing something you’d never consider on your own.

Namjoon has been your best friend since forever and for reasons you can’t explain, saying no to him has always been impossible.

Right. It’s definitely that. It’s definitely not because in those two prior instances mentioned, both friends of his are actually the same guy. The one you had an almost crippling crush on over a decade ago. (You’re sooo over it, though. Trust.)

When Namjoon finally leaned in, you were already bracing yourself.

“So, you know Yoongi, right?”

You blink, pause, and slowly shake your head. It has taken years, but today is the day you tell him, “No.”

“The fuck? What do you mean no?” He replies, already looking hella amused. “I haven’t even said anything.”

Your face feels like a furnace, but you grit and steady your voice. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

He lets out a hum, shifting in his seat, and you get the sense he’s working up to something. 

You sip your coffee, keeping your eyes on him. He gives you an exaggerated shrug, dimples deepening as he lets his shoulder sag. 

God you’re literally already about to break. 

“Fuck. Joon. Spit it out.”

He nods triumphantly, “Ok, there’s something I thought I’d run by you first, before he hears about it.”

The words hang in the air, and you raise an eyebrow. “What are you getting me into?”

Namjoon chuckles softly as he folds his hands on the table. “So… Yoongi has a son. A baby, actually.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. 

What? Someone has fuckboi Min Yoongi all locked down?! Huh. You never saw that coming.

You let that sink in, surprise filling the quiet space between you. “I… didn’t know he had a kid.”

“Not many people do,” Namjoon admits. “Only those close to him know. Yoongi’s an incredible dad, but his caretaker recently left, and now he’s scrambling to balance his schedule and take care of his son.”

“And his wife?”

Namjoon sighs, gives you a look that means he’s about to say something confidential. “There’s no wife.”

“Baby mama?”

“Out of the picture.”

You let out a small breath, absorbing everything you just heard. You already had an idea of where this is leading up to, but you want it said explicitly. “So what exactly are you telling me here?”

Namjoon nods, eyes hopeful. “Look, I know this is a big ask. I’m putting this out there because you’re one of the best with kids I know. And Yoongi—well, he’s pretty wary about letting new people get close to his son.”

You take another sip of your latte as he prattles on.

“While you’re still getting your bearings back, maybe you could take over the caretaker job, even part time?”

Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly as he says your name. “I just thought you might consider it. You’d be doing us both a favor. Yoongi really needs help, and I’d trust you more than anyone with this.”

You sit back, letting Namjoon’s words settle. He knows exactly what he’s asking—knows exactly how hard it is for you to refuse when he gives you that puppy dog look, and then he’s throwing Yoongi into the mix. Honestly, you hate how you're apparently still soft for him even after all these years.

Namjoon also knows your current situation. Does he not realize it’s a bit unfair to ask this of you right now? Not when you're still picking up the pieces after your breakup with your long-term boyfriend. Not when you need time to heal. Not when you literally uprooted your life and just moved back to Seoul a month ago.

But somehow, you can’t shake the curiosity. What would it even be like to see Yoongi as a dad? To get a glimpse of this whole other life he’s got now?

It’s probably a terrible idea. 

Yeah, no. You don’t need this right now. Money isn’t tight. And you need to focus on… 

You take a slow breath, mentally tracing the edges of this mess. There are a hundred reasons to say no, and only one reason you’d even consider saying yes. And because it’s for Yoongi… damn, maybe just one reason's enough.

Notes: So, what do we think? I'm genuinely excited to share my new baby with you guys! Let's go, let's go!

Taglist is OPEN. Leave a comment if you want to be notified when the story drops.

Help name the baby here

[winwintea]

dreamies meeting their kid for the first time + as a parent

GROUP ↬ ot7 dream x reader (ft. their child)

TAGS/WARNINGS ↬ some angst, LOTS OF FLUFF MY TOOTH IS LITERALLY ROTTING, spider-mark agenda is real, the child is sometimes a cockblock, haechan does some weird michael jackson-sherlock holmes roleplay idk it made sense in my head, jaemin going on shopping sprees, chenle never loses, ji... is ji.... (poor baby)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ everyone say thank you to @https-lvesick for getting me on that baby fever stuff... like i hate children but i love children. iykwim... anyways this is meeting their kid for the first time, but i can't come up with reasons why they were separated so you fill in the blanks. probably angsty reasons i love angst.

Mark Lee

when you come back through that door with a child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

literally has no words when you smile at him gently, saying it’s his.

mark swallows nervously, before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“i.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, my love,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

as a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either.

but he tries! give him some slack — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you see your child holding a sword?! 

and of course mark was in his halloween costume. typical.

“baby.. i can explain,” mark says calmly when you first find the two of them

well actually, three; it seems haechan was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you. good strategy.

“엄마, papa said he was iron man! he teached me how to be a superhero!” your child exclaims, flailing the sword around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“well, you see, i meant spider-man, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with murderous intent.

mark slowly kneels down to whisper something you couldn't make out to your child. the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the weapon.

then, as seconds pass, mark immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“mark min-hyung lee, you are so dead!” you scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — I COULD DO THIS ALL DAY!” the two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. they’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

but you love it anyways

Huang Renjun

when you meet him at the door, there's a flurry of emotions clear on renjun's face, but his smile says it all.

“is it too much to say i’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

regrets the fact that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, literally becomes wrapped around your little one’s finger because of it.

so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, always smiling when he thinks of them.

literally makes the other members question whether or not they want a child too.

bonding time is painting of course!

usually ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, you scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“i’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” renjun's soft voice makes you forget why you were mad in the first place tbh.

massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some stubborn blue paint off your child.

“it’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and gazing into his eyes.

your lips were just about to meet, when —

“ma, i'm not clean yet!”

damn. cockblocked by your own child.

you groan, renjun laughing as he picks up the pouting child with their arms crossed.

“don’t give 妈妈 too much of a hard time, okay?” he never forgets to take care of you above all.

Lee Jeno

when you walk through that door once more, nervously telling jeno that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction.

and when you finally gather the courage to do it? his jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“아빠?” your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked jeno as you hold your breath.

he stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “yes, little one?”

very new to this whole parenting thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

plus he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well,

but you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is. so that's a plus !

you'll usually find them in jeno's room together, while you need jeno to watch your child while you go out for an errand or something.

but when you see jeno, well, he starts to look ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room.

then, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

jeno utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin. “딸,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping their wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Lee Donghyuck

haechan tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his. it's okay, let it out hyuck. <3

“ah, crying like that on our first meeting… don’t you think your fath — i’m a bit embarrassing?” he asks, sniffling as he tries to muster a smile through his tears.

your child giggles, eyes crinkling while grinning. “no! mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

you have to intervene at this point to stop him from sobbing again.

haechan wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, so he's definitely going to spoil this child every second that he can.

you’d always find the two of them either going out shopping or messing about at home

also probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what.

one day you were curious, so you peeked through a tiny crack of the open door.

genuinely concerned at what you saw.

was that a... trenchcoat on your child? the two of them were engaged in conversation as haechan started nodding with a serious look on his face.

“so, mj, do you think waffles make mummy happier?” your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up like a mic in front of haechan's face.

mj???

haechan strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, i dee-hee duce they do, sherlock!”

sherlock...?

“good deduck – deduction, mj! i thought so too.”

you can't help but snort as haechan grabs his crotch and poses while high fiving your child.

as stupid as this was, your heart literally melts. the two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. dorks. 

Na Jaemin

“i was hoping you’d be back, my dear.” his perfunctory smile is so smug that sometimes you just want to punch him in the face. “with a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, trying to ignore your anger. you were here to show your child to jaemin. jaemin looks at the two of you with surprise, the curves of his mouth inching upwards.

hey jaemin wasn't trying to be possessive... cause that's weird. but the way you emphasized the word 'your' made his breath hitch. we can unpack that later though.

for now, na jaemin is a certified sugar daddy

jaemin is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

you asked jeno the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

okay something needed to be done about this. so you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. after explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

but your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“and what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” fuck him and the words he's picked up from traveling abroad. but jaemin looked honestly confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s.

you smile softly, “isn’t it obvious, silly? the little rascal loves you more than anything.”

he laughs. he doesn't get it. preparing for yet another shopping spree. why do you even try at this point?

Zhong Chenle

oh my god. when he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, chenle has to literally take a quick second to calm down cause he’s so angry.

no, not at you, of course, he would never. but at himself.

he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Y/ — 甜心,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy bed-head hair and staring at you with eyes that practically scream "please hug me, i'm insecure"

“how am i supposed to take care of a child when i couldn’t even take care of you?”

but don't worry, after many reassuring words and warm hugs, chenle's finally okay and back to his normal self, holding your child up and giggling.

maybe this was a wrong idea cause now you have to take care of a manchild and a child.

is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. (just because he has a nephew does not mean he knows how to parent a child.)

also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks as much, so out of the dreamies, he’d end up becoming one of the better fathers.

also cause he never loses. and no way is he gonna lose an argument with a child.

“不行。” “爸爸, pleaaase?” “no. 不可以。”

chenle seemed to be holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child trying to ignore their pleading puppy dog eyes.

“妈妈说 no chocolate, right?” your heart warms when you realize he remembered you scolding your child yesterday, though you can’t help but to feel a little bad.

“chenle,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “how about you give the little baby some chocolate and we can eat the eggs i just made in the kitchen?”

the way both their eyes shine almost identically is so fucking adorable.

Park Jisung

??!?>!?!>?>!?@#?>(*#(@*(*#!?!@?

“that’s… mine??” “what?” “… it?” “it?” “the.. child?”

actually malfunctions.

jisung is very flustered, for lack of better terms. he was always considered the baby maknae of dream, but his own child? lord, help him.

you... him.... the baby... it or they.. came out of you??? what.

gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the building. everyone tries to stop and coo at the baby, + chenle and haechan have decided to make his life a living hell cracking up jokes whenever they can.

jisung is surprisingly good at getting your chaotic child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his big yap sessions.

“and did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing uncle chenle and uncle haechan?” you question the two of them, wondering what they had been talking about earlier.

your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and grinning, “아빠 also said, ‘get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

oh fuck.

your accusatory gaze turns towards jisung, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead, trying to shield himself from possibly getting more bruises.

“i-in my defense, they were—”

“one more time, park jisung, and i’m changing their legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love and appreciate so so much.”

his eyes widen in shock, “you wouldn’t.”

“try me.”

now jisung is a grumbling mess when the two idiots are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around can be counted as an upgrade, i guess.

TAGLIST ↬  @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @ldh0000 @galacticnct @peterm4rker

[aealzx]

_______________________

Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous

_______________________

“...o, he hasn’t woken up yet.”

Someone had entered the room that morning, and now Jazz was talking to someone that could have been them or another person entirely. The haze of their lowered conversation was helping to pull Danny from the fog of sleep. But after the initial part it sounded like the conversation was one sided.

“Clothes?.... Actually, I don’t know what he would like. He hasn’t bought anything for himself for two years now. And never has a response when we ask.”

That response made Danny feel like they were talking about him. Jazz and whoever she was talking to. It was probably on the phone. He felt a little bad, but what she had just said was true. He hadn’t really done much when it came to clothing lately. Sam and Tucker had mostly been the ones to give his Phantom attire an update, and he just hadn’t bothered to address anything else.

“No, I’m not going to wake him up. He needs his rest-”

“Mmm… ‘s fine, J’zz. ‘M awake,” Danny forced himself to mumble even though he wasn’t quite fully alert yet. Relaxing in the study the previous evening had been really nice, and his spirits had risen a little when the few sips of broth he’d had a few hours before bed hadn’t made him sick again. But he still felt like a truck had hit him in his sleep, which made that morning hard. “Izzat for me? Here…” he asked, lazily flopping his hand into the air so that Jazz could give him the phone.

Jazz seemed to consider it for a moment, but eventually sighed and walked over to put the borrowed cellphone in Danny’s hand. Danny couldn’t see, having not managed to open his eyes yet, but Alfred was waiting patiently at the door to get it back. For now Danny just flopped it next to his head and turned his ear into it. “Mm…’ello?”

“Danny! Good morning~”

It was Stephanie. Chiming in a bubbly way that was much too energetic for… what time was it? Still felt too early.

“So, we’re out shopping and getting some new clothes for everyone, but your friends are being unhelpful and keep saying you don’t have any kind of style you like. Soooo, you get to answer. What would you like us to pick up for you? And what size do you usually wear?” Stephanie rambled, anticipating Danny would have more answers than the others.

“Uhhhhhh….,” Danny stalled, both because he was still waking up and she had said a lot of words, but also because he didn’t have an answer. “I dunno. A t-shirt and jeans? I’m usually a size smaller than Tucker though.”

“Seriously? That’s it? That’s so boring,” Stephanie complained.

“See? We told you, but you didn’t believe us.” Danny could hear Tucker’s voice, and figured he was on speaker.

“He just kept wearing the same clothes he had when he was fourteen, and only has new ones because the rest of us bought some for him. But he was so unhelpful then too that we had to settle for just getting him space themed stuff,” Sam huffed, and Danny could hear her folding her arms in annoyance.

“Hey, I got a lot of other stuff to worry about than clothes,” Danny protested to defend himself.

“You like space themed stuff though?” Dick’s voice chimed in now.

“Yeah, I still like space,” Danny confirmed. “Can’t do much with it these days, but I’ve always wanted to be an astronaut,” he admitted, feeling a little embarrassed about admitting his childhood dream.

“Cool. What about puns?” Dick hummed, adding another question quickly.

“No. Dick, don’t you dare,” Stephanie scolded.

Danny could only smile though. “I love puns,” he confirmed, not able to pick out who was all contributing to the chorus of groans and complaints, “Why? You got a good one?”

“Maybe. You’ll see,” Dick’s response was with barely held mirth. “Thanks kiddo, take it easy,” he bid before ending the call.

Well at least that was something to look forward to. Danny’s smile didn’t fade as he lifted the phone from the pillow to hand back to Jazz, who then returned it to Alfred. He ended up rolling over and laying there for a little longer, which made Jazz giggle and run her fingers through his hair for a bit. It was comfortable, and at least he wasn’t so tired he fell asleep right after waking up.

“...Alfred made some more of the broth you got last night. Do you want to try some more?” Jazz eventually asked when Danny finally managed to keep his eyes open and focus on things.

Danny considered how he felt before answering, and ended up nodding. “These help,” he admitted, pointing to the anti nausea patch behind his ear. It was enough confirmation for Jazz to move to help him sit up, stuffing all the pillows she could behind him when he was upright so he wouldn’t have to worry about spilling. The broth really did taste good, despite only being slightly warmer than room temperature. He found that if he only took small sips, and waited awhile between them he didn’t end up with his stomach wanting to revolt again. Maybe eventually he’d want a fat burger again, but for now this was enough.

He soon learned that he hadn’t woken up until after 10:00 am, but while that felt weird to hear he eventually realized there was nothing wrong with it. Apparently the others had been out all morning, Stephanie having come to get them since it was a holiday for her school. Not that her attendance was stellar anyway with all the mishaps she ended up in during the daytime, but it helped convince Bruce to let her carry on. She’d even managed to drag Dick and Barbara to join them. And that and the phonecall earlier led to Dick being the one to burst into the bedroom shortly after noon with the bags he’d promised over the phone.

“Head’s up!” Dick called as the only warning before he tossed a new t-shirt over Danny’s head.

“Dick!” Barbara scolded mildly, having only heard how Danny was doing and not completely sure he was up for being harassed.

To her surprise Danny just snorted. “It’s fine. It’s just a shirt,” he excused, pulling the t-shirt off his face and spreading it where he could see. While Dick grinned triumphantly at Barbara before turning to watch Danny expectantly, Danny quickly read the text on the shirt and promptly half choked on a snort. “HAHAHAHA H-,” he erupted with full on laughter, wheezing as he tried to vocalize the text. “I have - PFFFF HAHAHA - so many prob- HHHHH Jazz,” he howled and wheezed, turning the shirt so his sister could see the astronaut image surrounded by the text ‘Houston, I have so many problems’.

“Oh-.... Ohhhhh that’s great,” Jazz grimaced, giving a thumbs up as the content of the shirt was enough to dampen her own joy over seeing Danny laughing so openly. Considering his current situation, Danny probably thought it was rather fitting.

“I’m so upset we were right that he would love that,” Sam grumbled with a shake of her head.

“I think it’s great,” Danielle chimed in, though not laughing quite as much as Danny since she’d already seen everything.

“Of course you do,” Tucker sighed.

“I have more!” Dick took that as a chance to continue, plopping on the bed and digging out another shirt to pass over to Danny.

“Oh no, I’m leaving. Have fun,” Tucker groaned, quickly heading out the door partially to get away from what he had a feeling was going to be a terrible session of puns and bad jokes, and partially to take care of his own haul. Sam was quick to follow his lead, dragging Danielle after them so she didn’t skip out on helping.

As Danny excitedly held up the next shirt another honk laugh escaped him, though not quite as uproarious as the first. “HA! Just need space. Classic,” he complimented, lowering the shirt to his lap and looking up at Dick again to see if he had more.

“This was the last shirt they had, but if you want more puns after I have plenty to give,” Dick complied, handing the final printed shirt over to Danny.

It took Danny a second to realize the graphic of the earth was suggested to be spinning, staring at the conversation between the characterized moon and their own planet. The moon was asking what the earth was doing, and the earth responded ‘Making everyone’s day’, and as soon as the joke clicked in Danny’s head he was almost crying with laughter again. He didn’t even notice Stephanie joyfully recording both of them.

“Give me what else you have,” Danny requested after getting his breath back, reaching out to tug on Dick’s arm. It felt good to laugh. Even if it hurt his ribs, hurt the still healing burns on his chest, it felt good to just sit and laugh about something stupid. He didn’t want to give it up just yet, and it seemed Dick had actually planned for this in the past few hours after learning Danny loved puns too.

“Alright, get comfy ‘cause I have got a real gemstore to show you,” Dick agreed eagerly, squirming up onto the bed next to Danny and getting comfortable as well where they could both look at his phone. He had a folder saved just for collecting his favorites.

Danny was quick to settle into place wedged against Dick’s side, quickly reading and giggling or outright barking more laughter as they flipped through the saved images of jokes ranging from ‘I’m more confused than a chameleon in a bag of skittles’ to ‘astronomers got tired of waiting for the sun to go down, so they decided to call it a day’. Throughout the scrolling and varying degrees of laughter at the jokes, Danny even added some of his own that he remembered after seeing some of the others. 

Eventually their session was interrupted by Damian pausing at the doorway, getting their attention with a light knock.

“Pennyworth would like to know if you would prefer supper in the study once more,” the youngest Wayne informed, and waited for the response.

“Who…?” was what Danny ended up responding with, having not heard people’s last names yet.

“Alfred. Damian calls everyone by their last names,” Dick thankfully supplied, earning a small noise of understanding from Danny. It wasn’t hard to tell the hours and hours of jokes had worn him out, but he seemed quite content so Dick didn’t feel bad. “You’ve upgraded to the couch already though? Hell yeah.”

The comment made Danny snort again, though he also had to grimace at Dick incredulously. “What kind of lifestyle do you people live?” he asked before giving a quick answer to Damian. “Here is fine for today. If that’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Your recovery is of utmost importance to those in this household. If supper in bed will facilitate that, then it is of no consequence to anything else,” Damian responded easily, giving them a nod before leaving to report back to Alfred.

“Eh. We’ve had our fair share of injuries through the years,” Dick admitted to Danny’s question, lifting a finger to tap the small bandage on his own forehead once. “Enough that a knife wound is more like a papercut,” he half joked.

Danny snickered at the response, but wasn’t sure how he really felt about it. Was it really a good thing to be so used to being hurt that they seemed to have started making a game out of things relating to it? Maybe it was just something so inevitable for people like them, that they’d just had to make the most of it in the best way they knew how.

“Does it…,” Danny found himself speaking before he’d fully committed to the question in his mind. He had half the thought to retract his half voiced question, but opted instead to complete it. “Does it ever get to be too much?”

The question made Dick recognize a little more about what state of mind Danny was in, and his brows furrowed in concern before he eventually brought the smile back. “All the time,” he admitted. “Especially when you get all these meta humans and aliens involved. But… it’s too hard to stop.”

For a moment Danny had forgotten that the others, aside from Duke, didn’t have any special abilities that weren’t common for a regular human. It must be very stressful for them to have to deal with people like him that ended up rogue. But also, hearing someone else admit that they too, sometimes, only kept going because it was too hard for them to stop brought Danny a strange kind of bitter comfort. Maybe they were just all doomed together.

But, even if they were, at least he had company.

“...Thanks,” Danny chose to respond, relaxing a little more heavily into the pillows. The laughter had felt good, but the exhaustion and aches didn’t. “For all the jokes. I loved them.”

Dick could only grin fondly, reaching out to ruffle Danny’s hair after sitting upright. “No problem, kid. Anytime you need some more, just let me know.”

“Does that mean I can have your number after I get my phone back?”

Dick could only snort, having not expected that question. “Sure. We’ll figure something out for the whole interdimensional communication thing. I’m sure someone has already figured it out,” he chuckled, scooting to the edge of the bed to get ready to join the others at dinner.

Danny could only hum in acknowledgement, content with that answer, and let Dick leave to get his own food. Having someone to appreciate good jokes with was something to look forward to at least.

____________________

Iiiii struggled a lil with this one too =3= But there were some notes I needed to be mentioned before getting too far along.

Thank you for whoever sent me some puns though XDD they really helped. I love puns, but I'm terrible at coming up with any or even remembering them.

____________________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 2— Into You.

a/n: hiii guys here is the second chapter of the Be My baby series!! Like before I really just want to get this out, so sorry for any spelling/grammar errors. I’ll go back and fix them all later when i’m less tired. But I think I’ll start a tag list for this series if you guys want it. Just comment below on this post if you’d like to be added so you’ll be instantly notified of chapter updates. Thank you for all the support & happy reading < 3 !!

content: Top!Leah, Bottom!Reader, talks of previous sexual encounters, brewing sexual tension, jealous!Leah, fingering (R receiving), squirting, panty sniffing, strap on fucking ( R receiving), and masturbation.

warnings: allusions to heavy dom/sub relationship, talks of injury, Leah busting her ass at practice…again, car sex, flirty!Leah deserves a warning of its own so here you go, some angst, semi-public sex, and choking

synopsis: It's your second day working at Arsenal, and you are struggling with keeping things strictly professional with Leah. Meanwhile, you have some uneasy feelings arise as problems start happening with a fellow medical staffer.

word count: 6.3k

Series Masterlist: here

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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“F-Fuck Leah!” There’s sweat running down your face as it stings your eyes, adding to the tears that are already staining your cheeks. You try to rub your face on the sheets to help, but it just makes her keep you there. A strong hand comes to rest on the back of your head as she pushes your face further into the mattress, leaning over your trembling body as she lets the strap attached to her waist sink even deeper inside of you. Her chest presses against your back as she starts speaking into your ear, “Arch this fucking back for me, again– deeper!” A loud slap rings out across the room followed by an even louder cry from you. “I know you can do better than that. You wanna cum? Then deeper,” her other hand comes to push at your back as you sink closer to the bed. She watches at first, the way your pussy presents itself fully to her. She lets a groan slip from her lips at the way it grips her cock so hard that it partially slides out, giving you some breathing room for a few seconds. She lets you have your breather, but after that she can’t help the way she starts climbing over top of you. Leah plants her feet into the mattress as she bends her body down, her hands gripping the sheets beside your head. When she slides the few inches that slipped out back in– you can’t help the pornographic moan that leaves your mouth. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the new angle giving her access to parts of your pussy that have never been touched before. She’s giving you amounts of pleasure you never knew were possible. Her hips pick up a rougher pace after she lets you adjust, a burning in your tummy forming faster and hotter than you’ve ever experienced. Her lips skim across your back as her lips find your ear, “Cum for me Y/N. I know you want to,” one of her hands reaches around to find your clit. “So be a good girl for me and cum on this co–”

Your alarm clock awakes and blasts through the room, sending you flying as you jump up from the shock. An arm scrambles to smack at the annoying device to turn it off. You sit in the newfound silence for a few moments, letting your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm as you rub the sleep from your eyes. God, you’re so tired from last night. One orgasm turned into two…and then you just couldn’t stop thinking about her. The blonde English defender consuming your every waking thought…and apparently your nightly ones, too. You rub your thighs together as you feel the uncomfortable wetness collected between them. You wonder back to your dream…Well, your memory really. It was of the last night you two spent together. Her fucking you on the bed as the patio doors were left swung open, the sunsetting across the ocean of the beach; a beautiful backdrop to the way you handled each other’s body. A gorgeous end to a magical fairytale…because that’s what Leah is: a fantasy.

You keep reminding yourself that as you get up to start your morning. You enter the bathroom and make your way to the mirror above the sink. You squint your eyes at your reflection and bring a finger up to point at it, "You will keep things strictly professional, Y/N! Keep your pussy in your pants…you slut!" You shake your head at that, rubbing your face as you let a loud groan out. "My god I've gone mad!"

The shower heats up pretty quick, so you start stripping your pajamas off. You don't have a laundry basket yet, so you decide the floor will have to do for now. You cringe at the feeling of peeling off your wet panties, sighing as you look at the ruined pair before slinging them into your pile. The water washes away your worries for a minute, letting your muscles relax as you stretch a little in the comforting space. Then like black magic, she pops up again— front and center in your mind. You try to ignore the tingling between your legs as you reach for your shampoo. You try and ignore it your whole shower routine, but you can't put it off when you're washing your body. The loofa running across your skin as images of Leah go by in your mind is enough to drive the sanest person to their breaking point…so is it really your fault when you subconsciously start rubbing your thighs together? That can be debated. But it's definitely your fault when you slip your free hand down to fuck yourself to those thoughts of her. God dammit, you really have no self control when it comes to her. Note to self: Bitch, stand up!

You finish up your shower before you brush your teeth and throw on outfit. You're getting there early today to meet with the rest of the medical staff. You'll be meeting the head Doctor, head strength & conditioning coach, head of sports of medicine & science, the sports psychologist, the other AT, and the one you're most scared to meet…the old Lead AT whose job you now have. You didn't know when you took the offer that you'd essentially be stealing someone else's job— another woman's at that. You meant to talk to Rose about it yesterday, but that plan got derailed in more ways than one. First you got lost, then your tour went on longer than maybe necessary (but Alessia is just very friendly and charming, okay! Time slipped from you both), and then well, Leah happened...again.

As you make your way to the meeting room, you feel like you're going to throw up the coffee you chugged on the way in. Your stomach is turning over everything running through your mind: will they like you, Leah, will they respect you after leaving your old team in the middle of a season, will you fit in, Leah, will Rose hate you, because you understand why she would, Leah, will the other AT under you hate you for unknowingly demoting her friend/colleague, Leah, and oh god will they all hate you for that? You think you're going to pass out as you come face to face with the door of your destination.

You can hear the rustling of conversation inside and it makes you want to run— an all too familiar feeling running through your veins. You have to take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't there. Get a fucking grip girl, you got this. So you shake out your arms, a way to "shake out the nerves" as your mentor taught you. As you go in, your nerves instantly start declining as you see the smiles on almost everyone's face as you enter. Keyword: almost. You know that must be her..Rose. You have so much you want to say to her, but you know you can't in here. Not with everyone's eyes on you two— she deserves a hell of a lot more respect than that.

So for now you do your introductions. You learn all their names, and in the small first impressions you know things will be fine. You've already clocked who you think you'll grow close with. You really like Matt and Laura, the sports psychologist and the other AT. You don't get a chance to even meet eyes with Rose, as it seems she's avoiding you like the plague…But of course you understand why. You just wish she'd at least be social with her familiar coworkers instead of sinking into herself. Like you did. Laura must notice your saddneded look placed towards the other woman, because she gives you a reassuring smile. "She'll come around, just give her a little time."

"I hope you all know I had no clue they'd give me her position when I accepted the offer. I'd never want to steal someone's job— especially with how hard we have to work to earn them," your eyes still stay on the unsmiling women across the room. She's staring down at her phone, elbow sitting on the table as her head rests on her fist.

"We all had a clue. You looked miserable every time the camera panned to you. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell that you're running from something that happened there…I don't know how things were at your last club, but I know things can be different here," she's giving you such a genuine smile you can't help the tears the well up in your eyes. She continues upon seeing them, "And you don't have to talk about it until you're ready, or ever if you don't want to."

You smile hoping to reassure her that they are happy tears. "How'd you know I looked so miserable? Did you guys watch my old matches just to see the new addition's skills?" You can't help the laugh that comes out with it.

She mirrors your soft chuckles, "Uh yeah we did— sorry! That's probably a little creepy."

"No, no, it's funny really. But, uhm, yeah..I was really unhappy there. I tried to stick it out till the end of the season, but I..I just couldn't…" You trail off after that, an uneasy nervousness taking over your body as you think back to your time at Barcelona.

Laura's about to say something else when Rose finally speaks up for the first time, "I hate to break up this party, but the girls are about to start training." She says it so monotone, a flat expression matching it on her face. You snap back to reality at that— pushing the past down your throat once again. You know pretending like it never happened is destructive, but you don't care. You have a job to do here, and you can't let your emotions get in the way of that…in more ways than one. You're quickly reminded of that as you exit the room only to be meet with the sound of Leah's voice.

Dear lord— you really are going mad.

"Nice to see you found your way here alright today!" Okay now that definitely wasn't in your head. You look down the hall to your left, Alessia walking towards you as she leaves behind her teammates. They're all walking out to the field, and behind Alessia your eyes fixate on the lines leader. She's already looking at you, eyes boring into yours as she keeps walking ahead towards the exit doors.

"Eyes forward Williamson! Or you might not get back up this time," an Irish accent rings out from the group of athletes. A rupture of laughter echoes throughout the sickly white walls. It carries down to Alessia as she mimics the sounds of the girls, turning around to send a reply back, "At this rate she'll have a concussion by the end of the week. I'd put $20 on it," and a whole new roar of commotion starts then. Some girls feeling bad and saying to leave her alone, some pushing at their Captain as they can't control their laughter, and the rest of them making a group chat to solidify their bets.

You almost feel bad…almost, but seeing that red tint cover her cheeks as she swats their teasing hands away is too sweet of a sight. "I'll remember that when you're running extra laps today, McCabe!" She looks back up at you as she says it, licking her lips before her head snaps back forwards. She's gone after that, disappearing out onto the pitch as the rest of the bickering footballers follow her.

Alessia reaches you just as you snap out of your Leah induced trance, a smile reaching your face as she gives you a hug. "I left early today just incase, ended up getting a coffee from the place down the street."

"Ohh smart girl. You must be a fast learner," you two start walking as Rose and Laura go past you. A small wave coming from Laura as she turns her heard to mouth to you, "See you out there, rookie!" You send a wave back, ready to start your first full day.

Yesterday was a damn whirlwind, but today is going to be different. You and Alessia keep chatting as you quickly catch up with everyone else, falling into place as you two separate into your respective spots. You keep your eyes trained on the girls, all except one.

You are actively trying to avoid her gaze, but that doesn't stop you from feeling it burning holes into you. She's not as distracted as yesterday, or at least not as outwardly showing it. Leah's only staring holes through you when she isn't moving this time, even if it's for just a second, her head snaps in your direction. She's getting back in the zone though, comfortable with herself again.

She woke up before the sun even thought of rising to go get the dreaded CT scan you had ordered yesterday. She turned it into her coach as soon as she came out onto the field and he cleared her to play. But she can't stop thinking of you, your body, your voice, and all the possibilities of what you two could be if given the chance. She's determined to have you, to make you hers. And when Leah sets her mind to something…lord help anyone or anything that gets in her way. She's a force to be reckoned with, a fiercely confident and stubborn woman with a drive to get exactly what she wants.

She gets wrapped up as she doesn't have a moment of rest for a while, letting herself fall back into the passion of the game. Football is in her blood and keeps her heart pumping. She's known since the first time she kicked a ball that this is what she's meant to be doing. Even before it was attainable: she has always been destined for greatness. The defender doesn't break from her focus, not until she hears your unmistakable laugh from the sidelines. She looks up and scoffs under her breath at the sight before her.

Alessia had walked up to you after being pulled away to speak with her coach. She asked if you'd check her ankle, claiming that the pain was completely gone and so was the swelling. So you agreed to check her out, squatting down to examine her ankle. She'd made a dumb dad joke, unknowingly to her that those are your favorites. So here you are now, hand resting on Alessia's upper leg as you laugh out at the ridiculous 'so and so walked into a pub' joke setup.

Leah's eyes stay stuck on you now, anger filling her body as she watches you two interact. You won't even look in her direction anymore, but you'll feel up on her teammate you met one day ago? Fine. She can get hurt and gain your attention, too. The anger overrules the logic in her brain and before she knows it she's faking a fall, using all her body weight to drop and hit the ground. She lets out a groan as she bounces a little, not realizing how fast she was running when she made the split second decision. You don't notice straight away, only about a 5 second delay before a harsh voice from behind you cuts in, "Time to shine, La Reina!"

You feel your blood run cold at the nickname given to your former club member being directly used against you. You blink back the tears you feel welling up, running out onto the field as work mode kicks in. You don't even notice it's Leah until you're hovering over her on the field. You come down to your knees so you're at her level. "What happened this time?"

She sighs before sitting up, arms reaching out behind her to keep her propped up. A furrow between her brows settles in before the red on her cheeks starts to, "Y-You were flirting with Russo that's what bloody happened," you notice the roll of her eyes as she says it.

You can't help the small giggle that comes out of you, hands going to check her legs and ankles as you relish in her pouting. "Well maybe if you weren't so focused on glaring daggers into me you wouldn't have noticed."

"So you were flirting with her? You're not even going to deny it? Oh, you are someth-"

"Oh my god, no I wasn't' flirting with Alessia! She's just the only person to greet me so far without a tongue down the throat," you interrupt her as you realize how upset she actually is. "Plus, I wouldn't do that to you, Le. Never," you have to add in the last part. Too scared she'll cause a scene with her dramatic ass if you left it on a teasing note. You're sure she's had enough of that already today. "Now please— just tell me if you're hurt anywhere."

She goes even redder at that, turning into a mess of stutters as she directs her eyes anywhere but at you. 'U-Uh no. I-I'm fine, darling. No need t-to worry."

"But can you look me in the eyes and tell me that," you tease her. A smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you see her reaction.

"Oh fuck off would you!" She gives you that classic Williamson snarl. Face scrunched up into the meanest frown as her eyes find yours again.

"Mhm. Just make sure you give me a ride home tonight, and maybe I won't bench you."

"That seems like an abuse of power, babe." She laughs it out, falling back into her cocky attitude. "If you want me that bad, you just need to ask. No need to black mail me, darling."

The tables turn as you quickly find yourself as the one shyly blushing out a reply. "I didn't mean it like that you perv! God, you are infuriating you know that?"

"So I've been told," she smirks at you.

You rise to your feet before reaching a hand out to help her up. She finds her footing instantly compared to yesterday, jogging a circle around you as her ponytail swings behind her. "So am I clear, Doc? You giving me a clean bill of health?"

You roll your eyes this time, a bright smile breaking out across your lips as you start walking back to the sidelines of the pitch. "Yes, Leah. Now stop staring at me like a creep and go practice, Captain." You start jogging after the last part, quickly trying to clear the field and resolve practice. You don't notice the way her teammates whisper at the interaction between you two, or the way Rose shakes her head at it with a scrawl on her face. All you know is that Leah could flirt with you another time, right now work needs to come first.

You stop in front of the coach, discussing how you think Alessia is ready to come back and that Leah's good to go after her tumble. When you get the go ahead you get back in line with the other AT's, standing next to Laura as a conversation about restocking the med room supplies takes over comfortably. The rest of practice goes by smoothly, aside from the occasional glare from Rose. You try to keep any eye on where she goes after practice, wanting to sneak a moment alone with her to finally talk about everything. You lose her as she disappears into the locker room, not wanting to risk seeing a half naked Leah in such a populated area at the moment. So with a sigh you retreat to pack up your own things for the night, taking a clipboard and writing down a list of items you're low on as you do.

You hear the door open as you finish checking the last cabinet in the room, not looking up before speaking. "Oh Laura, do you know where we put in our order forms? I couldn't find any so I just started writing my own list."

"That's a little out of my job description, love." You turn around at that, coming face to face alone with Leah once again. You can feel your heart speeding up at the sight of her— god dammit she has you hooked. You set the clipboard down as you collect your bags from the floor, taking the time to regain your breath before walking out of the room with her. "Let me carry your bags, they look heavy."

"No, I can carry them on my own just fine, thank you. I have my whole career and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Don't be stubborn and just let me help you!"

"No! It's not like you're my girlfriend, you don't have a reason to carry them."

"Yeah, but I could be."

"W-What? Leah what are you even talking about—"

She stops you two in the dark empty hallway, turning you to face her as she speaks. "I could be your girlfriend," she smirks down at you as she leans in closer. You start backing up until you hit the wall, her body caging you as she finishes her statement. "And you could be mine."

She's so close you swear you can feel her heartbeat against your chest, breath dusting over your cheeks as she stares down at your lips. You're speechless and filled with a mix of emotions at her words, but still you lean up to kiss her. You pull away before she can deepen it though, "We can't, Le."

"Why not?"

"Because we just can't."

"Give me one good reason why we can't go out on a date, Y/N." Her hands cup your cheeks as she speaks, pulling you even closer as her lips tickle against yours.

"Because I don't date my coworkers. It's a rule I have set for myself."

"Well, some rules are made to be broken," and with that you let her capture your mouth with hers. You two get lost in the feeling of sparks flying off your lips, making out up against the wall like a couple of horny teenagers. She kisses you until your lips are raw, stinging, and swollen.

Then she's leading you out, hand in hand to her car. She opens the door for you, stealing a peck from your lips before she shuts it back. Her hand finds your thigh as she squeezes it a bit, sending a hushed whine to fall out into the air of her Audi A5. She licks her lips at the sound, sliding her hand up until she's rubbing you through your jean shorts. "You really think a few buttons is gonna stop me from getting to your pussy, (Y/N)?" She chuckles out as you look at her with wide eyes, freezing as you realize she caught onto the small detail you put into not ending up like this. Of course, she notices.

"Shut up, Le! Just do something already," there's a frustrated lilt to your voice, hips pushing down into the pressure of her hand through the denim. She pulls her touch away at that, her hand coming up to your face as she grips your jaw to face her. "Last time I checked, I don't give brats what they want. Try again like a good girl, and maybe I'll let you cum tonight."

You huff out at that, but you hold back on the eye roll that almost comes out of you. You know Leah well enough to know she's deadly serious, if you don't repeat your request in manner fitting to her standards? She'll drive you home and not touch you properly the whole way, teasing touches that never give you quite enough to get any real relief. It's just enough to have you dripping and desperate for her, begging when you both know it's far too late for her to give in. If Leah's one thing then it's being as stubborn as a brick wall. She will not break. No matter what you say, what you do, or how much you cry— she's not budging in her decisions. So you best listen the first time she allows you to correct yourself. With that knowledge in mind, you relax your face before giving into the English woman.

"Please make me feel good, Le." She laughs at your attempt. "I know you can do better than that," her grip gets tighter as her other hand starts unbuttoning your shorts. "And you know you have to tell me what you want, Y/N."

"Want your fingers, Le! Want you to fuck me till I'm making a mess on your expensive leather seats— please!" You whining louder now, growing confidence in the power play you two slip back into so easily. It's comforting and familiar in a new world of scary and unknown, and maybe that's why you keep finding yourself giving into her so easily…Or maybe it's because she knows your body better than anyone else— including yourself.

She smirks this time, slipping her hand down from your jaw onto your neck as her other one slides into your opened shorts. Your hands instinctually go to wrap around her wrist, nails digging into her flesh as she starts rubbing circles onto your panty covered clit. Your reaction is instant as you let small hums of pleasure escape you, grinding into the pressure once more now that it's more direct. Your gaze stays on hers as it intensifies, keeping you enchanted with the beauty of her crystal blue eyes. She tugs on your neck, bringing you into a heated kiss before she's slipping two of her fingers inside you. You let a moan out into her mouth and Leah takes the advantage to slide her tongue into yours. Her thumb rests on your clit as she lets you take a second, rubbing little shapes into the bundle of nerves. She starts moving her fingers as her tongue clashes with yours, a fight for dominance she quickly wins. It's hard to stand your ground when you've got long, thick fingers filling you up, okay? You try!

She doesn't pull away. Not until you can't breathe and you're both gasping for air as your chests heave up and down. Her lips move down to find your neck, mouth going to work as she speeds her thrusts up. You don't even think to tell her to stop. Consequences so far from your mind at the moment that you'd probably let her fuck you on the hood. You just relish in the way she curls her fingers inside your pussy, sending bolts of electricity through your body as your high approaches in no time. You look down between your thighs and you almost moan out loud at the sight of Leah's muscular arm flexing with every move she makes. You can't help the way you start riding her fingers at that point, breathy whines of her name leaving your lips like a prayer. "Le-Leah! Oh fuck, baby— please lemme cum, Le!"

"Already? I don't think so, darling. Hold it for me," she's laughing at you, vibrations moving through your neck as she keeps her lips pressed against your skin there. And dear god you want to cry when she says that. Sure you can make yourself cum— but not like she can. Oh no. You both know that's true, that's why you're bouncing on her fingers in the parking lot of your new employment. No one else would ever have you acting like this— they never have. Only Leah has ever had this kind of magnetic pull to her that you can't seem to resist. It's impractical and messy…but you know you can't quit her. Even if you can't admit it to yourself yet, she's got you wrapped up so tight around her finger that it's a little concerning…she's got you wrapped tight around two of her fingers right now if you wanna be specific, but that's not the point.

She groans out as she pulls back to watch you, eyes fixated on the way your breasts bounce along with the thrusts. You move one of your hands to wrap around her forearm between your thighs, and feeling the muscles move under your touch only sends you closer to the edge. Your hips start to stutter as your breathing picks up, you go to open your mouth and beg her a second time, but she cuts you off. "Go ahead, love. Cum for me," The next words come out in a growl as she puts more pressure on thumb attached to your clit, "Make a mess on my fucking seat so I can make you lick it clean afterwards."

Your eyes roll back at the sequences of actions, thighs closing around her arm as she keeps fucking you through your high. "Just like that, baby." She keeps going after your done though, a sensitive ache taking over your pussy from her treatment. "T-Too much, Le!" She darkly chuckles at that, a harsh tone coming off her next words.

"You can take fucking more," she switches to a softer one as she continues, "Just one more, darling. I know you've got it in you."

She pulls her fingers out of your cunt slowly, using her two soaked fingers to rub your clit now. She keeps going even after your thighs start shaking, her stamina much higher from her pro athlete training. She only said one more, but by the look of determination across her face…you know she's not done with you yet. Your poor clit hasn't had a single break since she first touched it god knows how long ago. It creates a knot in your stomach to form that you haven't felt since you were last at her mercy. Your voice goes up a few octaves and your eyes start to cross as your hands claw at any piece of her you can reach. "Leah!" You don't even get enough time to ask for permission before the liquid gushes out of your cunt and it seeps through your denim shorts to collects on her seat. You don't even get a second to breathe, not when her hand finds place in your hair and starts yanking you into the floorboard. "Now clean it up like a good girl, darling. Show me how much you appreciate what I've given you."

Your cheeks flush a deep shade of red as lean your head down towards her passenger seat. There isn't a shit ton of your squirt there, but enough for you to get shy about it. The leather feels weird against your tongue, but you make quick work of collecting the arousal onto it. You let your eyes drift up to her as you slurp up the last drop, sticking your tongue out to show her before you finish the job with a lick to your lips. She can't help the moan that leaves her this time, pulling your body back up into the seat as you start kissing again. As soon as she pulls away she's shoving her fingers into your mouth as your tongue goes to suck them clean. Your eyes still stay on hers as you do, wrapping both your hands around her wrists as you start bopping your head onto them. Leah thinks she's gonna cum in her fucking sweat pants at this point, her pussy throbbing harder than it has this whole time. She can’t wait to have you choking on her strap again…all in due time tho.

She breaks after you pull them of out of your mouth, sending a kiss to the tip of your fingers before you return her hand to her. She is fucking short circuiting right now, her lips drop open as she stares at you in awe. It makes you smile, a newfound confidence taking over as you lean across the center console and press a quick kiss to her lips. You think you pulled away in time but she catches you just as fast as you left, pulling you in close as you start your third make out session of the day..and your fifth since yesterday— but like who is counting? You get so lost in kissing her that you only pull away after you catch a glimpse of the time shining on her dash. You pull back from her warm embrace, a surprised gasp leaving you as you go to put your seatbelt on. "Noooo, come back," she pulls at your neck, trying to get your mouth back onto hers. The next words you get out are rushed.

"Le, we really can't. It's 11:30 already and— shit! I have to walk into my building looking like I pissed myself. This is just fucking great," you throw your head back against the seat in frustration. See this is what happens when you have no self control like the pussy whipped slut that you are.

"Hey, hey, hey calm down motor mouth! I missed some of that, but I think I got the gists of it. I have extra sweats in my bag you can borrow. Just leave your ruined panties and shorts in here, and I'll wash them with my practice laundry. I am sorry I kept you out so late, though…but I promise I'll make up for it tomorrow," She rubs your jaw with her thumb as she says it. A soft smile overtaking her features as she soothes you back to calmness with the action.

"Thank you, Le. You really don't have to do all of that though. The sweatpants are enough," you can't mistake the way your heart flutters at even the offer of the gesture. It feels too intimate for the reality of your situation, but you don't push it too hard. "Yes, Y/N, I know that, but I want to. So just let me help you. Please?" There's something different about the way she says it. Like she knows that you always rely on only yourself and never take help from others without a fight. It's a survival technique you picked up a long time ago, but only Leah has ever noticed it..or at least cared enough to call it out.

So with a sigh you take a deep breath before nodding your head, rolling your eyes as you can't hide the grin spreading out on your lips. "Okay, okay! You win. You can keep my cum soaked panties like the pervert you truly are, Williamson."

She pushes at your shoulder at the remark, "Oi! Better watch your mouth or I'll stuff 'em in there till I drop you off!"

She hops out to run to her trunk, grabbing the extra pair of lounging pants as she makes her way back to hand them to you. You change in the front seat and it's…very fucking difficult to say the least. But a few shared laughs with Leah and a couple awkward positions is all it takes for you to be redressed, sitting back in your seat as you settle down with a giggle. You go to put on your seatbelt to match her, but she takes it from you, her hands lightly sliding into yours before she buckles it for you. She starts the Audi and puts it into drive as she goes to leave the parking lot. She doesn't need your address this go round, one time was enough for Leah to memorize the drive. Her hand finds your thigh for once more tonight, resting it there as you converse about what coffee shops are the best around. You end up agreeing to let her show you around the town on your next day off together, but repeatedly insisting that it is NOT a date.

You're in front of your door before you know it, Leah walking you up for the second night in a row now. You two share one last passionate kiss before you start pushing her away. "Okay, now you really do have to go. It's already midnight, Le. I'll see you in the morning, Captain Williams."

"Yes, you will, and you better not ignore me this time either!" She says it with that classic Leah frown.

"No promises," you fail at hiding your laugh as you say it.

She pulls you back in to steal one more kiss, sucking the breath from your lungs as she does. It's a kiss like the one she gave you yesterday at your door, and it completely steals away your ability to breathe. She's making you fall deeper and deeper into this game you two have going on. You know you'll wake up tomorrow and say to yourself that you can't let this continue on…right before going to work and throwing that pep talk right out of the window as soon as you see or hear her. She's not just some one night stand you had and you both know it, but when will you stop lying to yourself about? Only god knows.

"You just be ready for our date on Thursday. I'm already planning the day in my head, and it's going to be perfect!"

"Le, I told you It's not a date!"

"We'll see about that, darling."

And with that…she's off. Leaving you at your door clad in her pants as you watch her figure disappear into the elevator once more. You try not to think about how this is easily turning into routine between you two. The domestic act of her paying to park just to walk you up to your room doesn't slip by you either. Maybe it really isn't like Barca here, and maybe things can truly be different in so so many more ways than one. You sleep in Leah's sweats tonight, wrapped up in her scent as it drifts you off to sleep.

But Leah herself? Oh, she definitely sniffs your dirty panties as she makes herself cum. Yeah, she is a pervert, as you stated earlier...but only for you. Only you could get her so wound up and resorting to such a desperate act of degeneracy. She checks the time when she finally finishes: 1:23am it reads back to her. She groans out a sleepy sound of discomfort as she tosses your dirty underwear into her laundry basket, turning off her bedside lamp as the darkness of night consumes her. Her mind isn't so lucky, because now she's thinking of all the places she going to take you on your date. Yes date— you can deny it all you want, but like we've discussed: Leah Williamson always gets what she wants when she's determined…and she's never been this determined about anything before. So she decides right then and there— in the dead of night and the pitch black atmosphere, that by the end of the season…you will fully be hers. Not some secret hookup or whatever the fuck you two are now. No, Leah’s mind is set in making you her pretty girl who stands on the sidelines with her cute little first aid bag, ready to go. Hell, if she’s real lucky you’ll be her WAG on the on med staff, a shiny ring sitting on your finger as her physical claim of you. She finally starts to fall asleep to those thoughts, a smile gracing her lips as she prays that she sees your beautiful face in her dreams tonight.

[signanothername]

Could we have some soft/comfort headcannons about anyone of your choosing? It's election night and I really would like something soft for my brain to chew on instead of worry all night

Absolutely!

Imma give you a bunch of different little guys <333

———

Killer:

-his cats help him a lot with sleep problems, they make him calm enough to the point of actually closing his eyes whenever he’s with them (reminder that he usually sleeps with one eye open xhxbbx)

-after he’s saved, he gradually becomes better at eating, he still avoids food that reminds him of the past but becomes more accepting of other types of food, eventually getting his bone mass and weight back, going from lanky to chubby <3333

-he eventually accepts the state of his soul and instead of trying to fix it, he tries to understand it, understand himself, he becomes a lot more gentle with his own self

———

Color:

-he has albums upon albums full of pictures he took over the years, filled with places he visited, pictures of people he loves and moments he cherishes

-he’s very connected with so many people, and a lot of people find him to be a great confidant, he does a lot to help people where he can, he eventually gets the good he gave back with people taking care of him

-he’s in a queer platonic relationship with Delta and Epic

———

Nightmare:

-he has piles upon piles of gifts Dream gave him for their birthday over the years, he never got rid of any of them, these gifts are something he cherishes dearly

-he’s the one to introduce Killer to Ccino’s cafe, he actually did that with no ill intentions, and Nightmare himself is not really sure why he went out of his way to introduce Killer to the cafe

-he and Dream sometimes sit beside their mother in silence, just taking everything in, taking each other presence in, not talking or interacting, Nightmare feels peaceful during these moments, it’s the closest thing to the same feelings he had as a happy child

———

Dream:

-even though he has a fallout with Ink, he eventually remedies his relationship with them, they become best friends again

-whenever life gets too much, he goes to Swap’s house and stays with the swap bros, it helps immensely

-Dream never expects to receive anything on his birthday, that expectation is broken when he receives a gift from Nightmare, he never got another gift afterwards, it’s only that one gift, but it’s the entire world to him

———

Error:

-he thinks of Ink as his bestest friend in the world, he’d never admit that out loud tho dhdhhdhdh (they’re frenemies)

-he loves geno and Fresh dearly, they’re his proclaimed siblings, he’s more open about his love with them

-he actually takes commissions by making dolls for people who want them in exchange for chocolate as payment (his chocolate stock never runs out zgxggx)

———

Horror:

-He eventually finds a better relationship with food

-he succeeds at escaping from Nightmare and managing to keep his AU (and most importantly his brother) safe in the process

-he finds himself becoming best friends with Farm

———

Ink:

-his art is something others never see, but surprisingly, if you had the chance to see it, then you’d find it’s art the people they love most

-their fallout with Dream actually hurt him, so when he and Dream got back to being besties, they felt very happy about it

-he loves spending time with Color, Epic and Delta cause of their constant traveling habits, they’re very entertaining to be around

-while they spend most his time in the doodlesphere, the second place you’ll most likely see them in is with their parents in the omega timeline, he loves them with all his heart

———

These are the ones I can think of off the top of my head hdhdhdhdh hope they’re enough to rotate in your brain all day <333333

[schemmentigfs]

can i request a fluff one shot where reader has to go on a trip (either for work or family reasons) and melissa meets them at the airport when they arrive back and is just super domestic once back at their shared apartment 🥺🥺

In the Quiet of Absence.

Summary: After spending a month in Paris for a work conference, you finds yourself longing for the warmth of home and, more than anything, for Melissa.

Tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota <3

You sink into the plush hotel bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you look out at the city lights glimmering against the Parisian skyline. It’s breathtaking—no doubt about that—but after almost a month, even the magic of Paris can't dull the ache you feel right now.

“God, I miss her so much…” you mutter to yourself, rubbing your temple as you glance around the luxurious room.

Your right hand drifts to the nightstand, fingers brushing over your phone. Without thinking, you pick it up, your thumb tracing over Melissa’s name. You can picture her asleep back home, curled up in bed, her auburn hair spilling across the pillow, maybe even with little Sweet Cheeks nestled at her chest. The thought brings a goofy but genuine grin to your lips as you press ‘record voicemail.’

With the phone cradled in your hand, you start speaking quietly, as if she could somehow hear you through the miles of the ocean.

“Good night, Lis. I know you won’t see this until morning since you’re probably fast asleep right now. Paris is... well, it’s Paris. Beautiful, busy, a little overwhelming. Everyone says how lucky I am to be here, but honestly, it just makes me miss you more. I walked by a café today, and I kept thinking how nice it would be to sit there with you, sipping coffee, people-watching, maybe listening to you rant about the tourists. It’s just not the same without you here to share it with.”

Sighing softly, you add. “I spent the day at the conference, and honestly, I found myself daydreaming about our couch and Sweet Cheeks curled up between us. I wish you could’ve seen the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower. You would’ve loved it. I tried to take some pictures, but they just don’t do it justice.”

As you keep talking about the conference through voicemail, the people you’ve met, and the places you’ve seen, you can’t help but let your thoughts drift to home.

Home.

It’s hard being so far from home, but even harder being far from her. Paris might be beautiful, a dream city for most, but without Melissa next to you, it feels empty, just walls and skies. You’d flown here for work, a month-long conference that was supposed to be exhilarating, a stepping stone in your writing career. And while there’s been value in it, each day is a little heavier than the last. Every stroll past the Eiffel Tower, every quiet hotel room evening, only reminds you of how much you miss the life you share with her.

You’d never imagined how hard it would be to be apart from her. Sure, you two had spent nights apart before, but a whole month? It was almost unbearable. You miss everything about her—her laugh, the way she fills the room with her warm, unfiltered energy, and the little things she does just to make you smile. It’s like there's a part of you that just isn't here, and every day, that longing grows heavier.

Everything here felt too polished, too perfect. You missed the little imperfections that made life with the second grade teacher so damn beautiful. How Melissa would wrap her arms around you in the mornings, still groggy from sleep. Her face when she’d forget where she put her reading glasses only for you to find them perched on her head, or the way she’d tease over making the perfect cup of coffee each morning. The way she would immediately fuss over your packing, making sure you had everything you needed, and the soft hum of her voice as she reassured you that everything would be just fine while you were away.

Home was with Melissa Schemmenti, and every part of you ached to be there.

Your girlfriend’s voice on the phone helps – her late-night calls about what went wrong at Abbott Elementary that day, the accent you love laced with the warmth of home. “Mon amour,” you’d whisper into the phone during one of your daily conversations, a term of endearment that wraps around both your hearts, even across the miles. But her voice isn’t enough, not when you’re used to seeing her every night, sharing meals, her touch grounding you in a way nothing else can.

With a gruff, you close your laptop, packing away notes you’d barely read. That’s when you hear the knock on your door, breaking the silence.

“Bonsoir, madame,” one of the hotel staff says politely when you respond. “Dinner is ready downstairs in the lobby.”

“Merci, je serai là dans cinq minutes.” Your answer is quick, almost robotic. Despite enjoying the culinary wonders of the place, you can’t help but prefer the meals of a specific redhead who knows everything about cooking and Italian cuisine.

“Pas étonnant, si vous avez besoin d’autre chose, nous sommes à votre disposition.”

You thank them with a smile, but you’re already glancing at your phone, at the time difference that keeps you apart, counting down the days – just three more – until you’re back in her arms.

Back at the bedroom, after finishing dinner, you’re restless. As much as the meal was filling, your thoughts are back at home with her. You finish up the small dessert in your room, the excitement building to be back in her arms, in the life you’ve built together. The night stretches on, a quiet contrast to the bustling city outside, and your sleep feels even further away.

You slip beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling as the quiet surrounds you. Sleep eludes you as memories of the older woman flood your mind—her lavender smell, the comfort of her presence. Everything.

“Just three more days,” you repeated the phrase, over and over again. Feeling like a mantra.

Closing your eyes, the loneliness is creeping in again, but the thought of returning keeps you anchored, making the distance feel just a little bit smaller.

It won’t be long now.

Back in Philadelphia, Melissa is dealing with her own form of aching loneliness. She’d thought she could handle a month without you; after all, she’d done it before. But the days had dragged on longer than expected, and each night without you next to her was another reminder of how deeply entwined you both were.

The redhead’s days are packed with the usual chaos at Abbott Elementary, but somehow it doesn’t quite fill the space you left behind. She comes home to an empty apartment that feels colder without the warmth of your laughter echoing through it. Sweet Cheeks, her classroom guinea pig, has become an unlikely companion, curled up in a little cage by her couch. She started bringing him home on weekends, claiming it was to keep the kids excited for Monday mornings. But if she were being honest with herself, she liked the company—even if it was just a ball of fur and squeaks. Sweet Cheeks always listened to her rants about the day, his tiny, twitching nose and big eyes a small comfort in your absence.

She talks to him about you sometimes, about the things she knows you’re seeing in Paris. “She’s probably at some fancy shit right now, buddy,” she mutters, throwing him a piece of lettuce as she leans back on the couch. “Probably complaining about how boring those rich dumbasses are.”

Melissa had never really considered herself to be sentimental. She was tough, independent, and good at taking care of herself. But after so many years of you two being together, this past month had taught her just how much you’d become her home. She finds herself missing the little things—your goodnight kisses, the way you leave your books stacked messily by the bed, the warmth of your hand reaching for hers whenever you pass each other in the kitchen.

She sighs and reaches for her phone, scrolling through your photos, lingering on the ones you’ve sent her from Paris. There’s one of you smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower, looking radiant with the city’s lights sparkling behind you. She can’t help but smile, even if her chest aches. “God, you’re beautiful,” she whispers, running a thumb over the screen. The animal lets out a small squeak, almost as if he’s in agreement, and she chuckles. “Yeah, champ. I’m the luckiest gal in Philly, huh?”

Her phone buzzes with a voicemail notification, and her heart jumps a little. It’s your voice, soft and intimate, filling the quiet of her apartment as you talk about your day. You talk about the conference, the view from the Eiffel Tower, and how much you wish she were there. The familiar sound of your voice brings an ache to her chest, but it also fills her with a sense of peace.

She presses the phone close to her heart once your message ends, letting out a shaky sigh. “Just three more days,” she says to herself, mirroring your own anxiety. She settles back into the couch, Sweet Cheeks nestled beside her, as she listens to your message one more time, the sound of your voice helping her feel just a little closer to you.

The nights for your girlfriend are the hardest. She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, longing for the warmth of your body beside her. Sometimes, she’ll grab the spare pillow, pulling it close to her chest as if it could somehow substitute for your presence. She buries her face into it, breathing deeply, as if she can still catch a faint trace of your scent.

She’s tough, but she’s not ashamed to admit that she’s counting down the hours until you come back.

When Saturday morning rolls around, Melissa stands by the sink, her sleeves pushed up, humming a soft tune as she washes the breakfast dishes. Sunlight filters gently through the curtains, casting a cozy glow over the kitchen and giving her that familiar sense of home she craves more than anything right now. Sweet Cheeks squeaks from his spot on the counter, and she reaches over, giving him a gentle scratch.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mama will be back soon, okay?”

Just as the green eyed woman was about to finish the last dish, her phone rang. Seeing your name, Her heart skipped, her fingers fumbling with the dish towel as she hurriedly picked up.

“Hey, amore mio,” she greeted, her voice soft and warm, as if she hadn’t heard from you in months, though it had only been a few days.

“Hey, Lissa! Guess what?” you said, excitement bubbling through the phone.

She grinned, already thrilled just hearing your voice. “What? Tell me!”

“I’ll be back tomorrow!”

Melissa let out a little laugh, caught between disbelief and pure joy. “Shit, really? Tomorrow? I missed you so much!” The words escaped her before she could hold back. She looked down, feeling a bit silly for how much she’d let herself miss you.

Sweet Cheeks, catching onto her excitement, squeaked louder at his feet, little paws tapping against the kitchen counter as though to join in. “See, even Sweet Cheeks missed you,” your girlfriend joked. “I think he’s been going nuts without his other mama.”

You laughed on the other end, and Melissa felt warmth spread through her. She didn’t want to admit it outright, but it had been a long, lonely few days without you, the routine things—the cooking, the tidying, even sitting on the couch—felt empty without you there.

“Well, you just hold tight. Tomorrow, we’ll make up for lost time,” you replied, and she could practically feel your smile through the call.

“That’s perfect. Love you, hon.”

“Love you more.”

After you hung up, Melissa wandered to the bedroom, feeling a deep swell of emotions, her fingers brushing over her pocket where a small, carefully hidden velvet box lay. She’d been carrying it around for days, checking it repeatedly, rehearsing the words she wanted to say once you were home again. The plan was all there—she’d wait for a quiet Sunday morning, like the ones she cherished so much, and then she’d ask.

Unable to resist, she pulled one of your shirts from the closet, bringing it close to her nose. The faint scent of you clung to it, bringing her right back to those lazy Sunday mornings that had become her favorite part of your life together.

She let herself imagine it: you, padding out of bed with only your underwear on, your hair a mess and your eyes still heavy with sleep as you’d pull her into a hug from behind. Every time, she’d grumble a bit, pretending she wasn’t as soft as she actually felt in those moments. You’d tug her back into bed with you, insisting on snuggling under the covers while she made her usual complaints about wanting to get up and start the day.

But truthfully, she loved being wrapped up in your arms as the little spoon. She felt a rare kind of safety there, the weight of your arms around her, the warmth of your chest against her back. She’d pretend to make a bad face, grumbling softly, but she’d inevitably relax, letting out the soft snores you always teased her about later.

And then, just when everything felt perfectly peaceful, Sweet Cheeks would start squeaking from the foot of the bed, weaving around your legs in hopes of an early morning cuddle.

Melissa smiled to herself, clutching the shirt close as she pictured the day ahead, wondering how you’d react when you saw her there, waiting to welcome you home—and how your face would look when she finally asked the question she’d been holding in her heart.

The next day, after what felt like an eternity, she drove to the airport, her heart racing with every step. When she finally spotted you through the crowd, her heart just about burst. She didn’t hold back, rushing over and pulling you into a tight hug, her face buried in your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

You held her just as tightly, murmuring, “Missed you too, Mel. So, so much.”

As you made your way back to the apartment, your laughter filled the car, and Melissa soaked in every second of it, feeling like the pieces of her world had finally fallen back into place.

Once home, she proudly led you to the kitchen, where she had your favorite meal prepared and ready, the smell of marinara sauce filling the space. Sweet Cheeks squeaked in delight at the sight of you, and you scooped him up, letting him nuzzle against you in greeting.

After dinner, you settled on the couch together, wrapped up in each other, your sweet guinea pig resting contentedly in his popsicle stick home nearby. The redhead leaned into you, her heart racing again as she reached into her pocket, fingers brushing over the small box.

She took a deep breath, turning to you with all the love she’d been waiting to share. “I know it’s just us, and this fella,” she said softly, glancing down with a shy smile. “But… I couldn’t imagine my life without you. So, I was thinking, maybe… we could make this forever?”

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti, what are you doing?” you gasp confused, while blinking.

She cleared her thoart and kneeled down. “Y/N. Will you marry me?”

Your eyes widened as she pulled out the box, revealing the ring she’d been carrying. In that moment, with tears in your eyes, you nodded, pulling her close in an embrace filled with all the quiet love and warmth that had defined your life together.

And as the night wore on, Melissa held you close, feeling finally, deeply at home.

[lilstarkeydream]

Hidden Flames- Chapter 3

Summary: Y/N, a Kook who prefers the company of her Pogue friends, falls for Rafe Cameron. Despite their growing feelings, they maintain a facade due to their conflicting social circles and personal insecurities. Y/N is best friends with Sarah, Rafe's sister, which fuels Rafe's hidden affection. He despises how Y/N hangs out with the Pogues, believing she has more potential, while Y/N can't stand Rafe's for fights and stuck up nature. After a dramatic confrontation, they confess their feelings but must keep their relationship secret, with only Sarah in the know.

Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, Angst, Smut (p in v), Adult language,

Authors note: Hey guys! Ugh I'm so sorry I made this like crazy long again and that it has been SO long betwen chapters. I've already sort of started working on Chapter 4 so hopefully I'll have it done soon. Anyways enjoy and feel free to message me if you have any requests xoxo.

9k words

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The warm sand felt soft against your feet, the gentle waves lapping at the shore. The sun was settling, casting a golden glow over everything. You were laughing, you don’t know what from, but Rafe was beside you, smiling, his eyes filled with softness. Rafe's arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close as he spun you in slow circles, laughter mingling with the sound of the ocean. He pulled you closed, gently kissing your lips and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You were dressed in white, almost like ghosts in a beautiful, ethereal world.

Rafe leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, “I want you forever Y/N. Even when I’m gone I’ll still be with you.”

Before you could respond, a loud powerful jarring sound shattered the peaceful scene. The scene faded away and turned black and you groaned and opened your eyes. You padded your bed around you searching for your phone trying to turn off your god-awful 7:30 am alarm. Early mornings are going to be the death of me, you thought.

You instinctively pulled your cover back over your head, dreading the day ahead. Dress shopping for midsummer’s… perfect. With only a week and a half to go, you already dreaded the thought of the superficial conversations that were bound to happen.

You try to hold onto the sweet memories of your dream but it is suddenly ruined when your mom yells down the hall.

“Y/N time to get up! We are already behind schedule, we are leaving in an hour for the boutique” 

You groaned, slamming your face into the pillow and then pulling yourself up to start preparing for the day. You can already imagine your mom with her cup of coffee in her hand criticizing every dress you pull off the rack. Your parents were very particular when it came to a lot of things but the main thing was presentation; they hated it when you dressed in “pogue” attire. Hence why dress shopping is so important to your mom, it validates to her that there is still hope for you. You rolled your eyes at the thought of her voice in your head but smiled, knowing it was easier to just go along with her sometimes.

-

The boutique was glowing with varying colors, patterns, and dress types; it was overwhelming. From rack to rack, your mother picked out various dresses and styles for you, ushering you to the changing room to try on every single one. 

You spent what felt like hours trying on dresses, in and out of the changing rooms, accumulating a small pile of maybes. Finally, as you were about to call it a day, your mom came over with a navy satin, backless dress with a bow detail. 

“Now I'm not a fan of the backless back but I do think the bow in the back ties it all together,” she said as you slipped it on. But when you turned to the mirror, the fit was perfect. It was the one. Scenarios played in your head on how Rafe would react seeing you in this dress, so tight fitting and revealing, you know it would make him ogle. 

“I agree Mom, this has to be it,”  you said smiling running your hands down the dress.

Your mom was about to respond when you felt goosebumps begin to rise on the back of your neck like someone was watching you.

You quickly glanced around in the mirror at the surrounding store as your eyes locked with Chris’s.

Oh god, you got to be kidding me, you thought. Out of all places, this is where you see him? He must be with his mom and sister or something. 

A twinge of nostalgia immediately began to coarse through you. You quickly looked away, pretending not to notice him, but of course, he noticed you—and began walking over, giving you his typical polite smile.

“Oh my gosh is that Christopher Phillips?!” Your mom whipped around, beaming with recognition. She practically jogged over to greet him, her eyes lighting up with that motherly approval. She quickly pulled him into a hug. “Christopher! How are you? Look at you, still as handsome as always!” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, your mom failed to acknowledge boundaries sometimes. 

“Hello Mrs. Chastain, it is great to see you, you look fantastic!” he said as he pulled away, quickly glancing over at you as well.

“Oh please Christopher, call me Linda. You're still such a charmer. Anyway, Y/N is just trying on some dresses for Midsummer but I’ll let you old love birds catch up, I’ll just be right over there” She pointed to a random corner, and knowing her we would still be eye-shot. As I’ve said before… she is a huge fan of Chris.

As she eagerly waltzed away, Chris visibly got a bit nervous shoving his hands in his pockets, clearing his throat.

“Hey Y/N, uh, I wasn’t expecting to run into you, you look great,” he said gesturing to your dress, his voice carrying a hint of the awkwardness that hung over you guys even after the breakup.

“Yeah, Chris, good to see you too,” you said, keeping a neutral smile. The idea of catching up as old friends was tempting, but you could tell by his eyes that lingering feelings were still there, and you didn’t want to stir them up.

“So, are you going to Midsummer?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Yeah, I am. You?”

“Same,” he replied, nodding with a tight smile.

Silence settled between you. You were about to excuse yourself when he cleared his throat. “Are you… seeing anyone new?” he asked, his voice a bit too casual.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you forced a neutral expression. “Nope. You?” As you spoke, a flicker of guilt stirred. Rafe was still in the back of your mind, his presence lingering, tugging at the corners of your thoughts. The memory of his touch was enough to make you blush, but you couldn’t say any of that—not to Chris, and not to anyone else.

He hesitated, noticing your sudden change in demeanor, then shook his head. “Nope.” He looked away noticing your mom eagerly waiting with prying eyes,  “Anyway, it was good to see you, take care. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Yeah. See you around,” you said, relieved as he walked away. 

God that was so awkward

-

You stepped out of the boutique with your mom, your newly purchased dress slung over one arm. The bright afternoon sun made you squint, and you took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air after what felt like hours spent in stuffy fitting rooms.

"Well," your mom said, eyeing you with satisfaction, "now that we’ve got that settled, we can get on to the important things, like accessorizing.” She gave a little smile, seeming more pleased with you than usual.

You smiled, barely listening as your mind drifted back to your encounter with Chris. Why here, of all places? 

Just then, a familiar voice called out across the street. "Y/N! Hey, Y/N!"

You turned to see JJ striding over, his hands shoved casually in his pockets, but his expression lighting up when he saw you. As he reached you, his gaze darted between you and your mom, a flicker of mischief in his eyes as he took in your shopping bags.

“Oh,” your mom said, straightening, “this must be one of your…friends.” Her voice held that edge she always had when she saw you talking to Pogues. She gave him a quick, tight smile. "Well, Y/N, I'll just grab a coffee down the street. You two…catch up. I'll be waiting in the car." Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked away, looking back just once before disappearing into the café.

Once she was gone, JJ grinned. “Nice to see I’m still charming the Kooks, as always.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed. “You have that effect.”

“So, what’s all this?” He pointed to the bags with a teasing smirk. “Getting ready for Midsummer? Gotta say, I never pictured you as the ‘princess of Kooklandia’ type.”

“Oh, very funny,” you said, nudging him. “Yes, it’s for Midsummers. My mom practically forced me to come out today.”

“Lucky me, running into you, then,” he said, shoving his hands back in his pockets and giving you an easy smile. “So, how’s it going? You look…like you’ve been through it.”

You shrugged, laughing a little, but your voice softened. “I actually just ran into Chris.”

JJ’s face fell, the teasing look replaced by concern. “Wait, Chris? Like…Chris Chris?”

“Yeah,” you replied, the awkwardness of it making you cringe all over again. “It was…strange. He was trying to be nice, but I don’t know. It just reminded me of how I’ve changed, you know?” 

JJ nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as if weighing his words. “Y/N, listen. Be careful with those Kook guys—no offense, but they can be a lot. And Chris…he’s bound to have feelings still, so just, you know…keep an eye out.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. “JJ, he’s harmless. We were just talking.”

“Yeah, maybe,” JJ muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I don’t know. You’ve seemed kinda distant lately. Like…you’re around, but not. Got me worried, is all.”

Just as you were about to respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced down, your pulse picking up slightly as Rafe’s name flashed across the screen.

Been thinking about you. What are you up to? The message was simple but meant everything, and you couldn’t stop the faint smile that crept onto your face as you typed back a quick reply, your heart beating just a little faster. 

JJ’s voice snapped you out of the moment. “Uh-oh,” he said, smirking as he watched your expression shift. “That look’s usually reserved for the extra-rich Kooks.”

You quickly pocketed your phone, fighting to keep your expression neutral. “What look?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N. I may not be a Kook, but I know you well enough to see when something’s got you all…happy like that.”

You let out a laugh, shrugging it off. “It’s nothing. Just someone I know.”

JJ gave you a curious look, his playful smirk softening as he studied you. “Well, whoever it is, I hope they’re good enough for you. Just don’t go getting lost in Kooklandia too long. Us Pogues kinda need you”

The genuine concern in his eyes made your heart twist slightly, and you nodded, touched by his words. “I won’t, JJ. Promise.”

A flash of relief crossed his face, and he returned your smile with a lopsided grin, nudging you playfully. “Alright, princess, get out of here before your mom thinks I’m corrupting you or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you said goodbye, his words lingering in your mind as you headed to the car.  

-

During dress shopping earlier, your phone had buzzed with a text from Sarah, asking if you wanted to hang out. She went on about an argument she’d had with Topper, making it sound both dramatic and all too familiar. You’d texted back, agreeing to come over once shopping was done, already bracing yourself for whatever rant awaited you.

Your mom is currently driving to the Cameron's residence as she droned on about Midsummer's etiquette and the importance of making a good impression.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll pick you up in a few hours. We can get lunch and talk more about Midsummers,” she said as she unlocked the car. But her phone buzzed just as she opened the door. She glanced at it, frowning.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” She sighed, her voice turning business-like. “They need me at the hospital honey. I’m so sorry, would you be able to grab a ride home.”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry, Mom, I understand. I’ll ask Sarah if she can drive me,” you replied, secretly grateful for the change of plans. You’d had enough of Midsummer's talk to last a lifetime.

She gave you a sympathetic smile, and as you shut the passenger door, you watched her drive away, feeling relieved. But that feeling quickly gave way to nerves as you noticed Rafe’s truck parked in front of the house. Of course, he’d be here,you thought, trying to keep your pulse steady.

Once your mom was out of sight, you made your way up the Cameron's all-too-familiar staircase. You hadn’t been here since that night—when you’d drunkenly found yourself in Rafe’s room. The memories flickered back, and you thought you caught a faint hint of his cologne lingering in the air. You passed by his door, stealing a glance, but it was empty, the bed neatly made. Maybe he’s out with Topper or Kelce by the pool, you mused, trying to shake the thrill of knowing he was nearby.

Reaching Sarah’s room, you barely had time to knock before she flung open the door, grabbing your arm and pulling you onto the bed beside her. “Finally!” she exclaimed, tossing her phone onto the bed as she settled in next to you. “You have no idea how badly I needed to see you today.”

“Really?” you laughed, stretching out beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Ugh, where do I even start?” She let out a dramatic sigh, flopping back against her pillows. “The guys are outside right now, so I can’t be too loud, but Topper and I had the stupidest argument last night. He gets jealous of everything—it’s unreal. Sometimes I think he’s the insecure one, not me! He saw me talking with John B near the docks and now he’s convinced I’m sneaking around behind his back!”

Your eyebrows shot up. “John B?” That was news to you. John B and Sarah had never shown much interest in each other before—or at least, not that you’d noticed.

Sarah nodded, biting her lip with a mischievous smile. “Yeah, he and I talked a bit last week, and honestly, I kind of liked it. He’s so…different from Topper, you know? But I swear, I wasn’t doing anything sketchy. Topper just freaked out and, ugh, it’s such a mess.”

You couldn’t help but imagine how the Pogues would react if they knew about Sarah’s budding friendship with John B. It was complicated enough with your friendship with them, let alone…well, your situation with Rafe. The Pogues wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to know you were sneaking around with the one person they despised most.

“Wow,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just can’t picture John B with a Kook like…well, like us, honestly.”

Sarah laughed, rolling her eyes. “I know, right? It’s complicated.”

“Speaking of complicated…” you began, realizing you hadn’t yet told her about the day’s chaos. “I ran into Chris today.”

Her eyes widened, surprise flashing across her face. “Chris? No way. How did that go?”

You gave her a tight smile. “Awkward, mostly. He was…polite, I guess, but I could tell there was something else. I don’t think he’s over it. He even asked if I was seeing anyone new.”

Sarah groaned, shaking her head. “Classic Chris. He’s just trying to find an excuse to come back into your life.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, “but I had to lie and say no. And that made it even worse because…”

You paused, hesitating. Sarah propped herself up on her elbow, eyes narrowing. “Because what?”

You took a deep breath, feeling your pulse quicken. “Because I snuck out with Rafe last night.”

Sarah’s eyes went wide, and a slow smile spread across her face. “Oh my god, what? Go on!”

“He came to my house, tapping on my window like a total maniac.” You laughed at the memory, but your voice softened as you remembered what had happened next. “We ended up going for ice cream and walking on the pier. He…he told me he wanted to try with me, you know? Like, actually give it a shot. And I said yes, Sarah. I told him I liked him.”

Sarah’s expression shifted, a mix of excitement and caution. “Wow…okay, so this is getting serious, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, feeling a flutter of nervousness at her words. “It feels…different.”

Sarah sighed, looking at you with a gentle but wary smile. “I get it. Rafe can surprise you sometimes. But be careful, Y/N. He’s my brother, and I love him, but…he can be unpredictable.”

“I know,” you replied, grateful for her understanding. “But right now, I just…I don’t know. I feel happy.”

Just then, a familiar voice drifted through the open window from the backyard, and your stomach did a flip. Rafe’s unmistakable laugh mixed with Topper and Kelce’s voices, the sound sending a thrill through you.

Sarah noticed, smirking. “He’s right out there, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Ugh, I know. But we’re trying to keep things secret, remember?”

“Sure, sure,” she teased, winking.

You both laughed, and the conversation drifted to other things. But as you glanced out the window, you saw Rafe and the guys heading inside, his attention focused on his phone. Sarah’s voice faded into the background as you heard him walk through the house and up the stairs, heart thudding as you wondered if he might notice you.

Excusing yourself with a quick “I got to go to the bathroom,” you slipped out of Sarah’s room, making your way quietly down the hall. Just as you rounded the corner, you nearly collided with Rafe, who looked up in surprise, his lips curving into that familiar smirk.

“Whoa, well this is a surprise, what are you doing around here, pretty girl?” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “Sneaking into my house just to see me?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your smile. “I’m best friends with your sister, dumbass. You’re the one who’s supposed to be downstairs with your friends.”

Rafe leaned casually against the wall, his hair still damp and tousled from the pool, water droplets catching on his tan skin, his arms toned and relaxed. He flashed you that familiar, mischievous grin. “Kelce and Topper just headed out, so I guess that leaves us. Think you can handle it?”

Your heart skipped a beat as he closed the space between you, the playful glint in his eyes making it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

You opened your mouth to answer, but his hand was already reaching for yours, pulling you into his room. The familiar thrill of being this close, in a place where you could be caught any second by Ward or Rose, made your pulse race.

“You know,” he murmured sitting on his bed pulling you between his legs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?” You tried to keep your voice steady running your hand down his chest, even as your heart raced. “What about me?”

He chuckled softly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “Everything. The way you laugh, the way you look at me…” He paused, leaning in just enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. “The way you make it really hard to keep my hands off you.”

You swallowed, feeling the warmth spread through you. “Who said you have to?”

A slow grin spread across his face leaning in to capture a kiss, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the house, Sarah, the risks of being caught. It was just the two of you.

But then, footsteps echoed from the stairwell, and you both sprang apart, glancing nervously down the hall. Rafe gave you a quick wink, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Rose’s voice called down the hall, clear and firm. “Sarah! Rafe! Y/N! Dinner’s ready!”

Rafe pulled back, his lips just inches from yours, his playful expression turning to one of frustration. “Of course,” he muttered, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Before you could respond, Sarah’s footsteps sounded from the other side of the hall, followed by a quick knock on the bathroom door down the hall. “Hey Y/N dinner’s ready! Rafe, dinners ready. Come on, let’s go!”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, smirking as he glanced at you. Then, with his best impression of an annoyed brother, he called out, “I’ll be down in a few, Sarah!”

Satisfied, Sarah’s footsteps faded down the stairs, and in an instant, Rafe’s arms pulled you back toward him. His lips found yours again, the urgency even stronger now.  The thrill of secrecy rushed through you as his fingers tangled in your hair, his touch somehow gentle and desperate at the same time.

“Alright, you really need to go now,” he whispered between kisses, his voice thick with reluctance.

“You don’t make it easy,” you murmured, smiling against his lips. Finally, you pulled back, running a hand through your hair as you gathered yourself, fixing your clothes.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped out of his room, glancing over your shoulder one last time to see him watching you with that signature smirk. 

-

When you entered the dining room, the Cameron family was gathered around the table, and Rose flashed you a warm smile. Sarah was already seated, chatting with Wheezie, who was recounting some story with animated hand gestures. You slipped into the seat between Sarah and Rose, offering a polite smile to Ward as he nodded in greeting.

“Glad you could join us, Y/N,” Ward said, his tone warm. “We don’t get to see you around here often enough.”

“Thank you for having me, Mr. Cameron,” you replied, feeling a bit more at ease as Rafe entered the room and took the seat across from you. His expression was casual, but the glint of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable. As he sat down, his foot tapped against your thigh under the table, and your cheeks flushed.

Dinner began with light conversation, Rose asking about school, and Ward making polite inquiries about your family. The food was excellent, and for a while, you settled into the cozy atmosphere, almost able to ignore Rafe’s occasional gaze across the table and the flutter it stirred in you.

“So, Y/N,” Rose began, setting down her fork and smiling at you with that piercing, Kook-perfect smile. “I’m assuming you’ll be going to Midsummers? Did you end up finding a dress?”

“Oh, uh, yes! Just today, actually,” you replied, hoping to sound casual despite your racing heart.

She nodded approvingly. “Wonderful! Midsummers is such an important event, especially for making connections. Do you have a date lined up yet?”

The question caught you off guard, and you took a quick sip of water, trying to keep calm. “Not yet,” you replied, glancing down at your plate to avoid looking at Rafe.

“Oh, what about that young man you were seeing before?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “What was his name? Chris, right?

The mention of his name made both you and Sarah choke on your drinks at the same time. Sarah quickly recovered, covering her laughter with a cough, but your cheeks burned as you struggled to respond.

“Oh, uh, we’re…we’re not together anymore,” you managed, giving Rose a small, tight smile. You could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, though you didn’t dare look up. 

Rose’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. “Oh, I see. Well, no matter. I’m sure you’ll find a date—someone with a good head on his shoulders,” she added, her gaze lingering a bit too long on Rafe as if expecting him to say something.

Rafe cleared his throat, his expression unreadable as he casually picked at his food. “I’m sure Y/N will be the best-dressed one there,” he said smoothly, his tone calm but laced with a subtle edge. The mention of Chris hadn’t gone unnoticed, and a hint of jealousy flickered in his eyes.

The comment hung in the air for a moment before Ward chuckled, drawing the attention back to himself. “Well, I thinkit’s great that you’ll be attending, Y/N. Midsummers is a special event. It really brings out the best in everyone.”

“Yes, sir. My family is excited about it—it’s all my mom has been talking about,” you replied, chuckling as you offered Ward a polite smile, eager to steer the conversation away from your love life, especially with one of the culprits sitting directly across from you. 

-

As the meal continued, Rose turned her attention to Sarah, her smile a little too fixed as she asked, “So, Sarah, I heard you were spotted down at the docks last week with…what’s his name? John B?”

The question dropped into the conversation like a stone, and Sarah froze, her fork hovering mid-air. You felt your pulse quicken as you glanced over at her, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

“Oh, that?” Sarah laughed, shrugging nonchalantly. “We just ran into each other. It was nothing.” She was doing her best to act casual, but you could tell Rose wasn’t convinced.

“Well, it just seems like…an unusual friendship, doesn’t it?” Rose remarked, her voice light, though her eyes were sharp and watchful. 

“Considering his father’s…reputation.”

Sarah’s jaw tightened as she replied evenly, “John B’s not like that. He just…runs with a different group of people, that’s all.”

Ward set his glass down, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s true. John B’s worked well with us, especially on the boats. He’s shown some responsibility.” He paused, looking between you and Sarah. “But I’d hate for either of you to get caught up in their habits—like sneaking around and stretching the truth. It’s just not the kind of influence we want for you two.”

You exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with Sarah, sensing that Ward’s words held more weight than they seemed to on the surface. The underlying warning was clear.

Rose’s attention shifted to you, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. “And you, Y/N, seem to spend quite a bit of time with the Pogues, don’t you?” she asked, gesturing lightly. “How would you describe their…character?”

The question hung in the air, and you could feel the unspoken judgment. You hesitated, thinking about how to explain it without stirring more suspicion. “They’re…genuine,” you said slowly, choosing your words carefully. “They’re rough around the edges, maybe, but they’re loyal, and they don’t pretend to be something they’re not.” You looked down, aware of Ward and Rose’s scrutiny. “They’re just good people, in their own way.”

Rafe cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Come on, Rose, it’s just a friendship,” he said, his tone casual yet carrying a hint of protectiveness as he glanced at you. “It’s not like either of them are running off with the Pogues and getting into trouble.”

Ward’s silence lingered, his frown subtle but clear. “It’s not the friendships themselves that concern me,” he said at last, eyes settling on Sarah and then you, “but the sneaking around and secrets. That’s what’s…disappointing.”

-

Just as the conversation drifted back to more mundane topics, Ward turned his attention to you. “Actually, Y/N, there’s something I wanted to ask you about. Your father’s company—he does business in real estate, right?”

Caught off guard, you nodded. “Uh, yes. He’s got some investments around the area.”

Ward nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. “Interesting. I heard he’s been expanding into some new developments recently, some pretty big projects.”

You sensed there was more to his curiosity than casual interest, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe’s gaze sharpened. What was Ward getting at?

“Yeah, I think he’s been working on a few,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though you felt a prickle of unease. Your dad had mentioned some big investments lately, but he was always cagey about the details.

Ward gave a satisfied nod, swirling his glass thoughtfully. “It’s good to hear. The market around here’s always shifting, and it’s smart to have eyes on it.”

“Exactly,” Rose chimed in, shooting Ward a supportive glance. “Families that know how to work with each other tend to do better in the long run, don’t they, Ward?”

You nodded politely, feeling Ward’s intent but still uncertain about the details. What exactly was he interested in?

“Tell him he should swing by sometime,” Ward added casually as if it were an afterthought. “We could go over some ideas, and talk business. Who knows, might be a win-win for both of us.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “I’ll let him know.”

Ward nodded with a pleased smile, raising his glass in a small toast. “To partnerships,” he said, giving you a look that seemed almost fatherly.

You nodded politely, feeling Ward’s intent but still uncertain about the details. What exactly was he interested in?

-

Dinner was winding down as everyone began clearing dishes from the table and bringing them to the kitchen. Rose stood at the window, watching the heavy raindrops pelting down outside, her brows knitting together in mild concern.

“Oh, it’s really coming down out there,” she said, glancing back toward you. “Y/N, you have a way to get home, right?I’d hate for you to get caught in this.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond as Sarah chimed in. “I was going to take her, but I, uh…let Topper use my car earlier.” Her eyes flicked toward you and Rafe, her mouth twisting into a half-smile as if she could sense the tension brewing.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Ward said, looking over at Rafe, who was lounging casually on the couch in the other room, scrolling through his phone. “Rafe, why don’t you take Y/N home? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment. You and Rafe exchanged brief glances, each of you caught off guard, but Rafe recovered quickly, nodding with a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, I can take her,” he replied, his tone nonchalant, though his gaze lingered on you a second longer than necessary.

Rose beamed slightly taken aback by his sudden willingness. “Wonderful! Thank you, Rafe.”

Excitement and nervousness coursed through you knowing you would get alone time with Rafe without anyone suspecting anything.

-

Your heart thumped as you ran upstairs to grab your bag and then you said goodbyes to the Camerons. Ward remindingyou again to talk to your father about the business deal and Rose just telling you to tell your mom hi. 

Rafe grabbed his keys, and after a quick farewell to Rose and Ward, he led you outside, holding the door for you as you climbed into his truck, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. The rain continued to pour down, droplets hitting the windshield in a steady rhythm that enveloped you both.

As Rafe pulled out of the driveway, silence filled the space between you, his fingers drummed on the steering wheel, and his jaw was clenched just enough to hint that something was bothering him.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft but edged with something deeper. “So…looks like you got stuck with me .”

You chuckled, glancing over at him. “Guess I am.”

He shot you a sidelong look, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t seem like you mind too much.”

“Maybe I don’t,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “maybe we can finish what we started earlier” your hand resting on the seat between you.

His gaze flicked down to your hand, and then back to the road, dodging your flirty comment. “Seems like Chris came up a lot tonight,” he muttered, his tone casual but carrying a distinct note of tension. 

Oh gosh is this what was making him so bothered, you thought

You glanced at him, feeling your heart pick up pace. “Well, it was Rose who brought him up,” you said softly, sensing that this was more than a casual comment.

Rafe nodded, a small frown crossing his face as he kept his gaze on the road. After a moment, you hesitated but felt it better to be honest. “Actually…I ran into him earlier today. At the boutique.”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his expression hardening. “You ran into him?”

You sighed and nodded, feeling the familiar tug of conflict. “It was nothing, Rafe. Just…awkward. He tried to make conversation, and he asked if I was seeing anyone. I told him I wasn’t because…well because we’re supposed to keep this between us.”

Rafe’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his jaw flexing. “So…he thinks you’re single, then?”

You glanced at him, taken aback by the edge in his tone. “Rafe, it’s not like that.”

“But it sounds like it,” he shot back, his voice soft but insistent. “I don’t like the idea of him thinking he’s got a chance when he doesn’t.”

You looked away, raising your own voice caught off guard by his intensity. “Well, what do you want me to do? Tell him I’m secretly seeing someone who…hasn’t even asked me to be his girlfriend?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you instantly regretted it, resituating yourself in your seat glancing out the window, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

Rafe’s eyes flickered with surprise, then softened as he pulled the truck over to the side of the road a block from your house, rain pattering loudly on the roof. He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “Do you…want that?”

Your breath caught, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze. The vulnerability in his eyes almost broke you, “Maybe I do,” you said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “But I’m not ready to put a label on it just yet, I like this sneaking around”

A smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Fine by me. But you’re still mine, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And if I see Chris—or anyone—try to touch you, it won't go unnoticed” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. 

A shiver ran down your spine at the intensity in his voice, but a warmth spread through you at the same time. “Rafe, you know I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“Good,” he whispered, his hand moving to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek and your lip. “Because I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“You’ve wanted this for a long time Cameron?” a smile tugging on your lips, “I always knew you had a thing for me.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he muttered, his lips curving into a smile as he leaned in.

You felt everything fade away as he pressed his lips to yours, the rain still hammering down. You melted into him, your hands threading into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his grip on you tightening as if he couldn’t get enough. The intensity between you grew, each kiss more urgent than the last, and before you knew it, he was pulling you over onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close.

You could feel the heat radiating between you, your breaths mingling as he kissed you with a hunger that made your head spin. His hands traced along your back, drawing you closer, as he whispered, “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, his words making your heart pound as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back and he began to kiss down your neck hitting your soft spot. “Rafe…” you moaned out.

“And if I see any guy even thinking about getting too close…” He trailed off, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, a possessive glint in his eye. “I’ll remind you exactly who you belong to.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you captured his lips in another kiss, feeling the heat between you building. 

“Rafe,” you breathed between kisses, “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Good,” he whispered, his voice rough as his hands explored you, pulling you closer. “Because I don’t think I could stop, even if I tried.”

He held you close, his lips moving from your mouth to your jaw, then along your neck, each touch igniting sparks across your skin. You felt as though you were lost in him, the way he looked at you as though you were the only person in the world.

“I can’t wait to see you in that Midsummers dress,” he murmured, his voice rough with anticipation, his hands lingering at your waist. “I can only imagine how good you’ll look.”  he continues to whisper, “and how good it'll be when I take it off and fuck you.”

His words made you blush, a smile playing on your lips as you gazed at him. “You’ll just have to be patient.”

He grinned, capturing your mouth again in a kiss that was anything but patient, his hands roaming up your back, pulling you closer. Without thinking, your fingers drifted to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling slightly as you began to undo them, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your hands. He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening as you pushed the shirt off his shoulders, running your hands over the hard lines of his chest. 

You pull away quickly, and Rafe can sense your reason for hesitation.

“Don’t worry, baby. It’s raining so hard, and my windows are too tinted,” he says confidently, immediately going back to attacking your neck.

Rafe’s hand slipped under your shirt, tugging it off with a swift motion, his fingers exploring the newly exposed skin with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands cupped your breasts, and you shivered at the sensation.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your collarbone as he pulled you flush against him. His mouth left a trail of fire along your skin, kisses becoming more insistent as he marked you with small bites—a silent declaration that you were his.

Your hands drifted down, fingers skimming over his toned chest before finding the waistband of his shorts. You felt his body tense under your touch, his breath hitching, eyes darkening with a fierce, barely restrained desire as he looked down at you.

“Careful,” he whispered, his voice low, almost a warning. But the challenge in his gaze made it impossible for you to hold back. You pressed 

closer, letting him know you were just as ready for this as he was. 

You locked eyes with him, a smirk playing on your lips as you took your time grinding your hips down, feeling his hardness beneath you. Rafe let out a low groan, his hands instinctively gripping your waist, urging you to move. His grip tightened, one hand sliding over your thigh and pulling you closer, making you roughen the kiss as his touch neared the edge of your skirt.

A shiver ran through you as Rafe’s hand inched along your inner thigh, each slow movement sparking anticipation. When his fingers brushed over your panties, you caught your breath, your heart pounding as he pulled the fabric to the side. His fingers found your warm, wet center, and he sighed against your mouth, his arousal pressing insistently against you.

A low moan escaped your lips as his fingers entered you, the roughness of his touch making you grip his seat for support. You’d craved this feeling, the way only Rafe could make you lose yourself, and every lingering memory of your first night together flooded back, more intense than ever.

You let your lips drift down to his neck, biting and sucking as you went, intent on leaving a visible reminder. Your body was moving on instinct, grinding against his hand as he picked up the pace, each thrust of his fingers igniting you further. When he angled his fingers just right, your body tensed, and a choked gasp escaped you, urging him on as he went deeper.

You rocked your hips against his hand, feeling the pressure building, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. The pleasure built steadily until you felt it crest, your entire body shuddering as you surrendered to the intensity of it. The truck windows fogged up, trapping the warmth between you as the rain pattered on the roof outside.

Rafe’s fingers slowed, coaxing the last waves of pleasure from you, and you moaned softly, holding tightly to his arm. Just when you were catching your breath, he slipped his fingers out, leaving you with an ache at the sudden emptiness.

With a sly smirk, Rafe reached down, pulling his boxers lower to reveal himself to you. The sight made you bite your lip, but he didn’t leave you much time to dwell on it; his hands tugged at your hips, guiding you over to your knees. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a condom and tore it open, sliding it on in one smooth motion.

Breathless with anticipation, you steadied yourself above him, slowly lowering your hips as Rafe guided you down. A gasp escaped both of you as he filled you completely, the world around you fading away as you moved together, lost entirely in each other.

As he entered you, a shared moan echoed between you, raw and unfiltered. “Holy shit, you’re so perfect,” Rafe breathed, his head falling back, his voice laced with awe.

He leaned forward, capturing your mouth with his, his breath mingling with yours as he deepened the kiss, sending a rush of pleasure straight through you.

You began to move, adjusting to his size. Each new rise and fall brought a wave of intensity that heightened your pleasure. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you as you took him in fully, and you wondered if his fingers might leave marks. 

Your own hands curled around his arms for support, gripping tighter each time he filled you, your bodies falling perfectly in sync.

As you grew more comfortable, your pace quickened, driven by the sheer pleasure that neither of you could hold back.

“Rafe…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you began to falter, feeling yourself edging closer. No one had ever made you feel this way before, and you could sense you wouldn’t last much longer, each movement pushing you closer to the brink of release.

“You just feel so good. You’re so perfect, princess,” he murmured, trailing kisses down your neck and onto your breasts. With each thrust, he guided your movements, pulling you down harder onto his lap, as if channeling the jealousy he’d felt over Chris into each motion.

Rafe’s arm tightened around your waist, drawing you in deeper, the pressure becoming almost unbearable in the most addictive way. The sound of your pleasure filled the small space, mingling with the sound of the rain pounding against the truck. You swore that if it weren’t raining so hard, anyone nearby would hear the sounds of your moans. Soft whimpers and moans spilled from your lips as Rafe continued, making you completely his. He groaned, his voice low and rough, as your moans nearly sent him over the edge.

You were lost in the rhythm of it all, overwhelmed by the sensations as you neared your peak once more. Rafe’s thrusts became more intense, and you felt the tightening of your walls around him, a telltale sign that you were on the brink.

“Rafe!” you gasped, feeling your climax wash over you in waves, pulling a deep moan from your throat. “I want you so bad,” you murmured, 

“Come inside me, baby…” Your words seemed to ignite something in him, his eyes widening as he watched your body react, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close as he thrust deeper.

You could hardly breathe, your body trembling as the overwhelming pleasure intensified. It felt like you were floating, the world outside fading until only he remained—his touch, his heat, the way he made you feel. Rafe groaned, a low, desperate sound as he felt your walls tighten around him, his own release fast approaching.

With a final thrust, he buried himself deeper, his hips moving sloppily as his climax took over. His hands gripped your waist as he moaned against your skin, his lips finding your chest as he rode out the last waves of pleasure. For a moment, both of you remained still, panting as you caught your breath, hearts racing in unison.  Rafe whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you caught your breath, Rafe fixing your hair.

“You okay pretty girl?” he asked leaning in to kiss you.

“More than okay, Rafe,” you say between kisses, smiling more and more. You swear you've never felt so happy.

You pull back slightly, and he does too, your eyes meeting in a moment of vulnerability. You can't quite put your finger on why kissing him feels so different—so much better— so right.

You kiss him once more, instantly melting into his warm touch. You want to stay in his arms forever until your moment is interrupted by the buzzing of a phone. You glance over and it's Rafe's phone on the dashboard, Dad.

Rafe answered the call, his voice shifting to a more serious tone. “Hey, Dad,” he said, leaning slightly away from you as he focused on the conversation. You watched as his expression darkened, his jaw tightening at whatever his father was saying.

“I told you I’d handle it,” Rafe snapped, frustration evident in his tone. You could see the tension building as he rubbed a hand over his face. “No, I’m fine. Just… give me a minute. Just dropped Y/N off. I drove extra slow since the rain was so bad.”

Your heart sank as you realized your time together was slipping away. Rafe looked back at you, his expression apologetic, but you could see the stress brewing in his eyes. “I have to go. I’ll call you later, Dad” he said, clearly trying to wrap up the conversation.

You sat back slightly, feeling the warmth of your earlier intimacy fade, trying to give him space while the weight of the moment lingered between you.

Rafe ended the call and exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. My dad’s being… well, you know how he is. Just pissed off about some investment bullshit,” he said, frustration still etched on his face.

“It’s fine,” you replied, trying to sound more upbeat than you felt. “Family stuff comes first.”

“Yeah, but I was really enjoying… this,” he said, with a smirk on his face but his voice still lingering with regret.

“Me too,” you admitted.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, everything felt perfect again. “Let’s go do something this week, okay? I’ll take you out on a real date.” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, promising more to come.

You nodded eagerly, giving him another soft kiss, cupping his cheeks as you savored the moment.

He helped you swiftly off him, both of you collecting your scattered clothing and attempting to put it back on correctly.

“I should get you home before your dad starts worrying,” Rafe said reluctantly, the reality of the situation settling over you both.

You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding that this moment together was ending. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Rafe started up his truck, creeping closer to your house. He pulled over in front of your home and parked.

As you climbed out of the truck and into the pouring rain, Rafe came over to the other side and offered you his hoodie to protect you from the rain. You swiftly put it on, feeling its warmth envelop you.

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, finding any reason to spend more time with you.

You didn’t really have a choice but to nod. “Yeah, that’d be great,” you replied, a flicker of anxiety rushed through you at the thought of getting caught but it out to be rainy and dark enough, no one could make out his figure.

As he walked you to your front door, you said a quick, discreet goodbye, not wanting to raise any flags or cause your dad to look out the window. You took one last glance at him, watching him walk back to his truck, his shoulders slightly hunched against the rain.

As you slipped inside, your heart raced as you stood in the hallway, the familiar sounds of your home bringing you back to reality as you tried to shake off the lingering adrenaline from your time with Rafe.

“Y/N?” your dad called from the living room, pulling you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself as you approached.

“Hey, Dad,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. He was sitting on the couch, the TV flickering in the dim light.

“Where have you been? You got home a little late,” he said, looking up at you and the clock with a hint of concern.

“Oh, I was just with Sarah,” you said quickly. “Her brother drove me home since she didn’t have her car.” The words felt slippery, but you hoped they’d hold.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly gauging your sincerity. “Okay, just make sure you’re careful out there, especially with the rain coming down so hard.”

You nodded, relieved that he seemed to accept your explanation. “I will, Dad. I promise.”

He glanced at the hoodie now draped on your arm, his brow furrowing slightly. “That’s a nice hoodie. Is it new?”

“Yeah, I just borrowed it,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you fiddled with the fabric. “I got cold, so… you know how it is.”

Your dad nodded but remained silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Just remember honey, I worry about you, sometimes I don’t know if you’re out with those pogues or not. I’d rather you be safe than sorry.”

“Of course,” you said, forcing a smile to reassure him. “I’m always careful Dad, I promise.”

He smiled back, his worry easing a bit. “Good. Now go wash up and get some rest. You’ve had a long day. I love you”

“Okay, night Dad, love you too,” you said but right before you headed up the stairs you turned around, “Oh Dad, Ward Cameron wanted to meet with you about some business investment stuff” 

He simply chuckled and said “Okay” before you continued heading up the stairs towards your bedroom.

Once back in your room, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in the pillow as a muffled scream escaped—equal parts frustration and exhilaration. The adrenaline started to fade and the memories of Rafe’s touch, his kisses, and that promise of a real date whirled through your mind, making it hard to catch your breath. Excitement buzzed through your veins, filling you with a warmth that felt as surreal as it was intoxicating.

None of tonight felt real.

You could still feel the comforting weight of his arms around you, and his hoodie was still curled up in your arms, smelling strongly of his cologne—a lingering reminder of everything that had happened.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Reaching over, you saw a message from Kiara.

Hey, Y/N! The Pogues and I are hitting the beach tomorrow. The waves are supposed to be crazy good. Wanna come?

A grin crept across your face as you quickly typed a reply.

Oh, hell yes! That sounds perfect!

But as soon as you hit send, another notification flashed across your screen. This time, it was your manager, Lance.

Hey Y/N! I’m so sorry it’s late, but could you pick up a morning shift tomorrow? We’re short-staffed, and I could reallyuse your help!

Your heart sank as you rolled your eyes in frustration. Taking an early shift meant skipping the beach day you’d just agreed to. You hesitated, caught between the thought of spending time with the pogues or actually making some money.

With a reluctant sigh, you typed out a response to Lance,

Sure! What time?

Then, biting your lip, you shot a follow-up message to Kiara.

Shit, Ki, I’m so sorry! My manager just asked me to work tomorrow morning, so I’ll have to miss out. But maybe I can meet up later?

After a few seconds, you saw Kiara’s text bubble pop up.

Ugh, bummer. Don’t let those Kooks work you too hard! We’ll be at the Chateau if you wanna swing by later. I’ll even save you a drink. Plus, we have some stuff to catch you up on.

You tossed your phone on the bed with a sigh, the weight of the skipping out kind of making you upset but you’ve called off so many shifts these past few weeks. Plus you know there will be a party this week to make up for lost time. You kicked off your shoes and pulled the covers over you. Your body was utterly exhausted.

As you settled into bed, Butters, your cat, jumped up and curled himself beside you, purring contentedly. You ran your fingers through his soft fur, letting the rhythm of his purring lull you into a sense of calm.

"I hate skipping out on the Pogues," you muttered to Butters, who responded with a contented purr. "But, hey, at least I won’t be broke."

You sighed, snuggling into the covers and letting the warmth of your cat and the quiet of the room start to ease your mind. Just as you were starting to drift off, a new notification buzzed on your phone.

You picked it up, blinking at the screen in surprise.

Goodnight beautiful

A small smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the text. You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest, even though you knew you'd have to face the consequences of whatever you were getting yourself into with Rafe. For now, though, you let the words settle in and your exhaustion wins, letting sleep pull you under.

--——----------————- ❥・-------------------------

Taglist: @rafesno1bae, @drewsphswife, @maybankslover

[verycoolusername1]

It's you that I'll be kissin'

Summary: In which Nico may not be the dream guy, but he makes up for it in his own special way.

Warning! Nothing just pure fluff

A/N: I'm so bored I decided to write to keep my mind off the state of my country(writing this after the election so-)

I was meant to publish this later(on Sunday) but I clicked the wrong button so now it's here

You watched Nico as he slept, his brown hair falling across his face. Your hand ghosts over his cheek before raising it down.

"I can feel you staring at me." Nico mumbles.

"Sorry," you apologize. "You just look so pretty when you're sleeping."

Nico huffed a laugh as he rubbed his eyes. "I would say thank you but that sounds creepy."

You slowly got up and opened the curtains, temporarily blinding you.

"Given this scenario, it's not creepy at all." You argued. "I'm gonna get in the shower, you wanna join me?"

"It is cheaper," He hums in agreement.

You took out your hand for him to take which he did, and the two of you went to take a shower and got dressed.

You were currently drying your hair before picking one of Nico's sweaters and went down to the kitchen to find him cooking breakfast.

You sniffed the air. "Smells amazing baby."

"Well I'm not trying to end up like last time." Nico says softly.

Your face grimaced at the memory. "Those cooking lessons I've been giving Jack been passed down to you it seems."

"He always brags of how good of a teacher you are, you not ever considering being one is still a shock." Nico flips a pancake.

You looked at him in shock. "Being around little kids is something I can't handle."

"Are you gonna be able to handle our kids one day?" Nico asked.

You nodded. "Well I already do, Tracker is always a good boy."

You both knew what Nico meant but he brushed it off seemly taking that as an answer

Your dog Tracker loves the both of you and never caused all that trouble. He was visiting his uncle Jack for the week.

Nico turns around and places two plates down for the both of you, he sits beside you.

"I have the morning off, afternoon skate today. I'm all yours." Nico eats a piece of bacon.

Your eyes gleamed with joy. "Really?" Nico nods.

"Hm ooh can we go to the bookstore down the street? I've been meaning to get this book, it was romance and get this the love interest was a hockey player." You chuckles.

"That sounds familiar." Nico jokes.

"Well I didn't need it when I had the real thing." You poked his side. "I just wanna see what all the hype is about."

Nico nods as he looks at you. "Anything else you want to do today?"

"We can cuddle, I definitely missed those." You took a bite of your pancake.

"But babe we cuddle all the-" You cut Nico off before continuing. "And do a movie marathon of high school musical."

"We don't have enough time for that." Nico told you.

"Oh I know, that's for when you get back from afternoon skate." You explained.

Nico realized your intentions and his face grew in horror. "Oh no."

You began to smile wickly. "We will watch it so many times you'll know all the words to 'I can't dance' it'll be so much fun!"

"You wouldn't." Nico said.

"I'll blast the soundtrack in the car." You teased.

You then ran off to put your shoes while Nico started doing the dishes.

"Hey Nico?" You called out.

"Yes?" He washed the plate with the sponge.

"You know I love you right? I don't wanna make you watch it if you don't want to, you're the best boyfriend I ever had and I really don't want to lose you and I'm talking too much, I'm going to shut up now." You rambled.

You finished with your shoes and let out a yelp as you got up, Nico stood there staring at you.

"Baby what's wrong-" Nico cut you off this time by kissing you softly.

"Do you really mean that?" Nico asked softly.

"Of course I do, how could I not? You're just you and that's all I could ever need." You answer without hesitation.

"I love you." Nico caressed your face.

"I love you too." You smiled softly. "Now hurry up we have no time to waste!"