#Using your imagination to make yourself happy is good

[reiding-writing]

YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end

263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!

a lot can change in 263 days.

spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.

a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂‍↕️

WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending

DAY ONE

You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.

The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.

The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.

You’re here. You made it.

“First day?”

The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.

He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.

“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”

He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”

You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”

He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”

“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”

“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.

You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”

“You too,”

His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.

“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”

A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”

This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”

You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.

But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.

“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.

The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.

“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”

His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”

The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”

“Any initial impressions?”

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”

The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.

“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.

Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”

You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.

Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.

As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.

Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.

The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.

But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.

By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.

“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”

He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”

The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.

As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.

Maybe you do belong here.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE

The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.

By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.

Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.

It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.

Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The morning starts like any other.

A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.

“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.

You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.

“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.

“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”

You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”

“Maybe a little,”

The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.

Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.

“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.

“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.

“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”

“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.

“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.

The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”

He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”

“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”

He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.

—

Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.

It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.

“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.

You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.

He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”

There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.

The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.

—

The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.

“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”

He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.

“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.

His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Of course,” you say, watching him.

As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR

It starts with the little things.

You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.

A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.

It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.

But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.

You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.

You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.

He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”

The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.

You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.

Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

“FBI! Drop the weapon!”

The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.

Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.

“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”

You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”

His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”

His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX

You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.

He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.

“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.

His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.

“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”

“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.

He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.

For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.

You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.

You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.

It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.

Reid’s gaze.

He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.

It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.

The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.

Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.

How had you missed it?

But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.

The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.

Oh no.

Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.

“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.

Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.

It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.

You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.

Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.

And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.

By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.

As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.

You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”

He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”

“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.

His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.

As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO

The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.

“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”

But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.

It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.

—

Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.

At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.

But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.

“Peace offering?” he says lightly.

You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.

“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”

He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.

“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.

“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”

Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.

“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”

As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

—

That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.

Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?

The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.

But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.

He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.

But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE

It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.

“Can we talk?”

You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.

“Reid, I’m really tired—”

“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”

You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.

He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”

The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”

“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”

“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”

“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”

“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”

His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”

And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”

You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.

By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.

Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.

The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”

He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.

Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.

“I have been avoiding you,”

He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.

“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Reid.”

His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.

“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”

For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.

“Spencer...”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”

You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.

“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”

His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.

But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.

It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.

The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.

You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.

The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.

“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”

He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”

“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”

Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”

You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.

The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.

There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.

“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”

You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.

When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.

And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.

The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.

It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.

Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.

“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.

Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”

From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”

“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.

“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”

Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.

So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.

DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.

“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.

“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”

He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”

Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.

“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”

He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”

You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.

Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.

When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.

“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.

As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.

He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.

This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.

[julietsf1]

The Idiot I Call Mine - Lando Norris x BestFriend! Reader

summary: best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently. (7.1k words)

content: fluff! friends to lovers; flirty dynamic; mutual pining

an: whaaat? a fic about another driver? yes loves. this is me coming forward as a secret Lando fan. I hope you'll enjoy as much as I did writing this :)

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Lando Norris has this annoying habit of always being right. It’s not even about anything important—it’s just little things. Like the time he guessed exactly how long it would take before I caved and ordered dessert, or when he said I’d end up watching a rom-com tonight even though I claimed I wanted “something deep and meaningful.”

“See?” he said smugly, leaning back on the couch as the opening credits of The Holiday  played. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Hardly,” I shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You just know I have a weak spot for Jude Law. That doesn’t make you psychic.”

“No, but it does make me an excellent best friend.” He winked, plucking the popcorn off his lap and popping it into his mouth like the show-off he was.

I rolled my eyes, pretending I wasn’t fighting a grin. Lando and I had been inseparable for years, the kind of best friends who finished each other’s sentences and shared a borderline unhealthy obsession with late-night McDonald’s runs. But lately, something had been… different.

Not bad, exactly. Just different. Maybe? I wasn’t even sure to be honest. 

“You’re staring again,” Lando said, breaking into my thoughts. He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest in a way that felt entirely too casual and yet completely deliberate. His green eyes sparkled with mischief, and his smirk was the kind that could make even the most confident person question their sanity.

“I wasn’t staring,” I lied, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in my mouth for good measure.

“You were absolutely staring,” he teased, leaning closer. “What’s on your mind, hmm? Thinking about how devastatingly handsome I am? It’s okay—you can admit it.”

“You’re such a joke,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably. “Devastatingly handsome? Please. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Exactly,” he said, flashing a grin. “And yet, here you are, spending your Friday night with me. Interesting choice.”

“I’m here for the popcorn,” I deadpanned, though even I didn’t believe myself. “And because you begged me.”

“I didn’t beg,” he protested. “I suggested strongly. There’s a difference.”

This was us—lighthearted insults, jokes at each other’s expense, and an ease in our conversations that felt like home. If there was something different lately, I told myself it was just my imagination running wild. 

“Speaking of choices,” I said, leaning back against the couch. “What’s the deal with you and your phone wallpaper?”

“What about it?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “You really expect me to believe you just happened to pick a picture of me for your wallpaper?”

“It’s a great photo,” he said with a shrug. “You look happy. And let’s not pretend your wallpaper isn’t me.”

I froze, caught. He was right—my wallpaper was him, but that wasn’t the point.

“That’s different,” I said quickly. “You look stupid in yours. It’s funny.”

“Ah, so I’m your personal clown now?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense. ��Good to know my humiliation brings you joy.”

“Always,” I said sweetly, tossing another piece of popcorn his way.

The movie played on in the background, but neither of us was really paying attention. We were too busy pushing each other’s buttons, like always.

“Hey,” Lando said after a while, his tone a little softer. “You’re coming to dinner at Mum’s next weekend, right?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “She’s already planning the menu. Something with pasta, probably. You know how she gets when you’re coming over.”

I smiled despite myself. His family had always treated me like one of their own, and his mum had a knack for making me feel special in ways that were both comforting and overwhelming.

“Well, in that case,” I said, pretending to think it over. “I guess I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said, nudging me with his elbow. “I’d be bored without you there.”

It was moments like this—simple and familiar—that stuck with me longer than they should. The way he said things so casually, as if they didn’t carry any weight, even when they somehow did. 

“You’ve got something on your face,” I said suddenly, trying to distract myself.

“Where?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Right there,” I said, tapping the corner of my mouth.

He smirked, deliberately licking the spot where I’d pointed. “Better?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I said, shoving him away. But I was laughing, and so was he.

“You love it,” he said, and for once, I didn’t argue. Because maybe I did.

As the night went on, the teasing continued, each remark more loaded than the last. By the time the credits rolled, I wasn’t sure if it was the movie or Lando’s lingering glances that had me feeling so off-kilter.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he said, breaking the silence as he stood to clean up the popcorn bowl. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking,” I said vaguely, not meeting his gaze.

“About?” he pressed, leaning against the counter with a smirk that said he already knew the answer.

“Nothing important,” I said, grabbing my phone and pretending to scroll.

“Liar,” he said, his voice playful but probing. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know that?”

I glanced up at him, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it had been doing lately. He was standing there like he had all the time in the world, his green eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Goodnight, Lando,” I said finally, brushing past him on my way to the couch.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

…

“You know, for someone who claims to be an athlete, you spend an alarming amount of time eating,” I said, glancing at Lando over the top of my menu.

“Carbs are fuel,” he replied, flashing me a grin. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand that we could’ve gone somewhere normal instead of whatever this place is,” I said, gesturing to the overly fancy restaurant. The kind of place where the wine glasses sparkled brighter than the chandeliers, and the menu was full of words I couldn’t pronounce.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how hard it was to get a table here? I had to name-drop myself.”

“Wow,” I said dryly. “The struggle.”

“Exactly. And now you’re here, about to enjoy the finest pasta in town, thanks to me. A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”

“Gratitude? You dragged me here under false pretenses. You said this was a ‘low-key spot.’”

“It is low-key,” he argued, gesturing around. “For Monte Carlo standards.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my face. This was just how things were with Lando—effortless, easy, and borderline ridiculous.

“Alright, what are you getting?” Lando asked, lowering his menu.

“Fettuccine Alfredo,” I said without hesitation.

“Of course you are,” he said, smirking. “Predictable.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I shot back. “What are you getting, then? Something groundbreaking? Life-changing? Revolutionary?”

“Tagliatelle al tartufo,” he said with a mockingly posh accent.

“Wow,” I said, feigning awe. “Truffle pasta. You’re really pushing the boundaries, Norris.”

“Don’t be jealous just because I have sophisticated taste,” he replied, the smirk never leaving his face.

“‘Sophisticated’ is one way to put it,” I muttered, pretending to study the menu again. “Another is ‘pretentious.’”

“You’ll be begging for a bite,” he said confidently, setting the menu down.

“Please,” I said, scoffing. “You’ll be stealing mine before the plates even hit the table.”

He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You know me so well.”

The food arrived soon after, and, as predicted, we switched plates halfway through without even discussing it. It was second nature by now, like so many other things about us.

“You know,” Lando said, twirling a forkful of fettuccine, “if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out, I could be a food critic.”

“Sure,” I said, deadpan. “Because people are dying to know what Lando Norris thinks about pasta.”

“They would be,” he said, undeterred. “My palate is unparalleled.”

“Your palate consists of pizza, chicken nuggets, and whatever I’m eating,” I shot back.

“And yet, here we are,” he said, gesturing to the table. “Me, enjoying this culinary masterpiece, and you, enjoying my company. Life is good.”

It was shaping up to be another night of easy conversation and mindless teasing until a voice interrupted us.

“Lando?”

I looked up to see two women standing at the edge of our table. They were both tall, blonde, and effortlessly elegant, the kind of women who looked like they belonged in a magazine spread rather than real life.

“Oh, hey!” Lando said, his face lighting up in recognition.

I glanced at him, watching as his entire demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He straightened up, his grin widening just enough to make my stomach twist.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” one of the women said, her smile bright and practiced.

“I know,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. “It’s been a while.”

“You look great,” one of them said, her smile bright as she leaned in a little too close.

“So do you,” Lando replied, his tone polite but just warm enough to make me suddenly very interested in my water glass. The conversation floated around me, full of laughter and inside jokes I didn’t understand.

“And who’s this?” one of them finally asked, her gaze flicking to me with polite curiosity.

“This is Y/N,” Lando said, gesturing toward me with a casualness that felt too deliberate. “My best friend.”

Best friend. There it was again.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

“Likewise,” she replied, her tone perfectly pleasant.

They didn’t linger much longer—just enough to leave their mark before excusing themselves with a wave and a promise to “catch up soon.”

“Old friends of yours?” I asked once they were gone, my voice light but with a slight edge.

“Something like that,” Lando said, taking a sip of his water.

“Something like that?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “They’re sisters. I, uh… may have had a thing with both of them. At different times, obviously.”

My fork froze midair. “Both of them?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, laughing. “It’s not that weird.”

“It’s incredibly weird,” I said, shaking my head.

“I mean, it didn’t overlap or anything,” he added, as if that somehow made it better. “But yeah… sisters.”

I stared at him, equal parts amused and horrified. “That’s… impressive? I guess?”

“Thank you,” he said, grinning like he’d just been handed an award. “Think I should call them again?”

“Sure,” I forced a laugh, stabbing at my pasta. “And then ask if they have any other sisters you might’ve missed.”

He chuckled, clearly oblivious to the sarcasm in my tone. “Good idea. Always room for a hat trick.”

My stomach churned uncomfortably, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I focused on my plate, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way my mood had shifted.

…

The paddock was its usual chaotic self—teams rushing to prepare for practice sessions, fans peering over barriers for a glimpse of their favorite drivers, and media personnel darting between interviews. I decided to escape the madness for a bit, heading toward the staff catering building for a much-needed coffee.

The line was mercifully short, but as I joined it, I noticed someone already waiting near the front. Tall, dark-haired, and wearing a Ferrari polo with his name—Marco—stitched neatly on the chest. He turned slightly, catching my eye and offering a polite smile.

“Busy morning?” he asked, his tone warm and conversational.

“Something like that,” I replied with a small smile. “You?”

“Always,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But coffee makes it manageable, no?”

I nodded. “A universal truth.”

Marco stepped aside to let me order, a gesture so casual it almost went unnoticed. As I gave my order to the barista, I felt him glance at me again—not invasive, just curious.

“So, not Ferrari,” he said after I stepped back to wait for my coffee.

“Is it that obvious?” I joked.

“A little,” he admitted, his grin widening. “You’re far too relaxed to be one of us.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?” I asked, tilting my head playfully.

“Flattered,” he said easily. “Relaxed is a good thing.”

We fell into an easy rhythm as we waited. Marco was effortlessly charming, asking questions without prying and tossing in a few self-deprecating remarks about Ferrari’s chaos.

“You’re here with a team?” he asked eventually.

“A friend,” I said vaguely.

“Lucky friend,” he said, his tone light but genuine.

I laughed softly. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

Marco opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation.

“There you are.”

I turned to see Lando approaching, his expression relaxed but his eyes sharper than usual.

“Hey,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were doing media.”

“Finished early,” he said, stepping closer. His gaze flicked briefly to Marco, who stood quietly by my side. “And I figured I’d find you here.”

“Good instincts,” I said lightly, though something about his sudden appearance felt… deliberate.

Marco offered his hand to Lando, ever polite. “Marco. Ferrari engineering.”

“Lando,” he replied, shaking his hand. “McLaren driving.”

Marco chuckled. “I know who you are. Good to meet you.”

“You too,” Lando said, his tone friendly but with an edge I couldn’t quite place.

The barista called my name, and I turned to grab my coffee, giving them a moment to exchange polite words. By the time I returned, Marco was stepping away with his own drink.

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, offering me a small wave before disappearing into the crowd.

Lando watched him go before turning back to me. “Who was that?”

“Marco,” I said simply.

“And what was Marco talking to you about?” he asked, his tone too casual to be entirely innocent.

I raised an eyebrow. “Coffee, mostly. Why?”

“No reason,” he said quickly, taking a sip of my drink.

I studied him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird,” he said defensively.

“You’re definitely acting weird.”

Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, fine. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely baffled.

“He was flirting,” Lando said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I blinked. “He was being nice.”

“Nice,” Lando repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Lando, he’s just a guy who works for Ferrari,” I said, shaking my head.

“Exactly,” he said, as if that proved his point.

There was a beat of silence as I processed his words.

“You sound jealous,” I said finally, testing the waters.

“Jealous?” he scoffed, though the flicker of something in his eyes gave him away. “Hardly. I just think you can do way better than some guy who chats you up in the coffee line.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he asked, smirking now.

“Yes,” I said firmly, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me.

We walked back toward the McLaren garage, his mood lightening with every step. By the time we arrived, he was back to his usual self—chatting with the mechanics and laughing at some joke I’d already missed.

But his words stayed with me, replaying in my mind as I sat down with my coffee. My coffee which Lando had somehow already drank half of. 

…

The McLaren lounge was a rare oasis of calm in the chaos of a race weekend. Engineers hustled past the windows, radios crackled with updates, and somewhere in the distance, an engine roared to life. But in here, it was all plush couches, soft lighting, and a distinct lack of urgency.

I was curled up on one end of the couch, flipping through a magazine, while Oscar and Lando lounged on the other side. Lando, as usual, couldn’t sit still. He was draped sideways over the armrest, absently spinning a water bottle in his hands.

“Alright,” Lando announced, breaking the comfortable silence. “Would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses?”

I looked up from my magazine, narrowing my eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s an important question,” he insisted, his grin wide and mischievous.

I pretended to ponder for a moment. “One horse-sized duck. Definitely.”

Lando gaped at me like I’d just declared something outrageous. “Terrible answer. Absolutely terrible.”

“It’s the smart answer,” I shot back, sitting up straighter. “You outmaneuver one big target instead of exhausting yourself trying to wrangle a hundred tiny ones.”

“Do you even know how terrifying a horse-sized duck would be?” Lando asked, his voice rising in mock disbelief.

“And do you know how terrifying a hundred duck-sized horses would be?” I countered, raising an eyebrow.

Lando leaned forward, his grin widening. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’d rather face one giant, angry duck with a wingspan bigger than this couch?”

“Absolutely,” I said confidently. “Ducks aren’t that scary.”

“They can bite, you know,” he shot back, gesturing dramatically. “One snap, and you’re done for.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “I think I’d survive. Besides, I have a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing playfully.

“You,” I said, deadpan. “I’ll just toss you in its path and run.”

Lando gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. “Wow. That’s cold, Y/N. I thought we were a team.”

“We are,” I said, grinning. “But only if you pick the right answer next time.”

For a moment, he was quiet, his grin faltering just slightly as he met my gaze. It wasn’t much, just a flicker of something softer beneath the banter. But it was enough to make my stomach do that annoying little flip I’d been trying to ignore.

“Lando,” Oscar interjected, his tone casual but pointed. “You’re staring.”

“I am not,” Lando said quickly, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he looked away.

“You are,” Oscar said, leaning back with a smirk.

“You’re imagining things,” Lando muttered, crossing his arms.

Oscar snorted but didn’t press the issue, instead grabbing his phone and scrolling through it idly. But the look he shot Lando wasn’t lost on me—or Lando, for that matter.

As the banter settled into silence, I decided to grab a drink from the catering area, leaving the two of them alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind me, Oscar struck. “Mate, you’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“About what?” Lando asked, feigning innocence as he fidgeted with the water bottle.

Oscar didn’t even look up from his phone. “About Y/N.”

“What about her?”

Oscar set his phone down, leveling Lando with a knowing look. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy every time she’s around.”

Lando scoffed, though the tips of his ears betrayed him again. “That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

“Sure,” Oscar said, dragging out the word like he was savoring it. “That’s why you light up like a Christmas tree whenever she walks in the room.”

“I do not,” Lando said defensively, but his voice lacked conviction.

“You do,” Oscar replied, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Mate, you’re glaring holes into the back of her head every time she talks to someone else. And don’t even get me started on how you were watching her during the duck-and-horse debate like she’d just solved world peace.”

“That’s—” Lando started, then stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Right,” Oscar said, his smirk firmly in place. “It’s exactly like that, but go off.”

Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for the right words. “It’s… we’ve known each other forever. It’s Y/N.”

Oscar nodded, as if that made sense, but his smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t you think it would be time to change that soon? You two are exhausting.”

Lando shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it.

“I’m just saying,” Oscar said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “You’re completely gone for her. Admit it already.”

Lando groaned, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Oscar said, grinning now. “But I’m right.”

Lando didn’t respond, his gaze drifting to the door where I’d just left. And for the first time, he let himself wonder if maybe—just maybe—Oscar was onto something.

…

The moment we walked into George’s celebration, the energy hit like a wave. The room was packed with familiar faces—drivers, engineers, and friends—dressed to the nines in that effortless way people in motorsport always seemed to manage. String lights twinkled across the ceiling, soft jazz played over the speakers, and a steady hum of conversation filled the air.

“You’re going to owe me for this,” I teased, glancing at Lando. “Dragging me here after wasting twenty minutes deciding between two identical shirts.”

“They weren’t identical,” Lando replied with a roll of his eyes, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back as we weaved through the crowd. “One had a darker stitch.”

“Completely life-changing,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

“See? You get it,” he shot back with a grin, steering us toward a booth near the bar.

The way his hand lingered, warm and steady, was something I tried not to think too much about. It was just Lando being Lando—playful, touchy, and completely oblivious to the little flips my stomach insisted on doing whenever he leaned too close.

We found our way to a booth not far from the bar, where Alexandra and Charles were already seated. Charles was gesturing animatedly about something, while Alexandra sat with her usual poised grace, sipping champagne. When she saw us, her face lit up.

“Enfin, vous êtes là !” Alexandra exclaimed, waving us over. (Finally, you’re here!)

“Lando a changé de chemise trois fois,” I replied, throwing him a look. (Lando changed his shirt three times.)

Charles chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Toujours dramatique, hein ?” (Always dramatic, huh?)

“English,” Lando whined as we slid into the booth. “You’re ganging up on me in French. It’s not fair.”

“Pauvre bébé,” I teased, patting his arm lightly. (Poor baby.)

“Whatever that means,” he muttered, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn’t upset.

The conversation flowed easily between the four of us. Lando, of course, dominated the chatter, weaving an elaborate story about George’s awkward rookie days. His expressions were so animated, his gestures so over-the-top, that even Charles—usually the calm and composed one—was cracking up by the end.

“That’s not true,” I said, nudging Lando with my elbow. “You’re exaggerating again.”

“I’m not!” he protested, his green eyes wide with mock innocence. “It’s all true. Every word.”

“Sure it is,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Back me up here!” he said, turning to Charles.

Charles raised a brow, taking a deliberate sip of his drink. “I wasn’t there, but… I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Alexandra laughed softly, glancing at me. “Toujours l’acteur dramatique, ce Lando.” (Always the drama actor, that Lando.)

“Hey,” Lando said, pointing at her. “I know that wasn’t a compliment.”

I smirked, leaning closer. “It absolutely wasn’t.”

He gasped dramatically, his hand over his chest. “Betrayed by my own friends. I’ll never recover.”

“You’ll survive,” I said, brushing him off, though the warmth in his gaze lingered just a beat too long.

Lando eventually excused himself to grab drinks, leaving me to chat with Alexandra and Charles. As soon as he was out of earshot, Alexandra leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Il est tellement évident qu’il a un faible pour toi,” she said softly, her voice full of amusement. (It’s so obvious he has a thing for you.)

“Quoi?” I asked, my cheeks heating instantly. (What?)

“Ouvre les yeux,” she said, smirking. (Open your eyes.)

Charles chuckled, sipping his drink as he watched the exchange. “C’est écrit partout sur son visage.” (It’s written all over his face.)

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re imagining things.”

Alexandra raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, her expression saying everything her words didn’t.

At the bar, Lando was cornered by Carlos, who leaned casually against the counter, his expression smug. 

“You know,” Carlos said, his tone casual, “you’re not very subtle.”

“What are you talking about?” Lando asked, though his focus kept drifting toward the booth where I was sitting.

Carlos raised his drink, gesturing toward me. “You’ve been staring at her all night, hermano. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

Lando stiffened, his grin faltering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just tell her,” Carlos said, swirling his drink lazily.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando replied, his voice quieter now.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because if I mess this up, I lose her,” Lando admitted, glancing toward our booth.

Carlos tilted his head, studying him. “You’re scared. That’s what this is.”

“Of course I’m scared,” Lando muttered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s my best friend. If it doesn’t work—”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Carlos interrupted, his voice softer now. “But you’d better do something soon.”

Carlos’s smirk softened slightly, but before Lando could reply, Liam Lawson appeared at the bar.

“Who’s the girl with Charles and Alexandra?” Liam asked, nodding toward the booth. “She single?”

Carlos grinned mischievously. “Yeah, she is—go for it.”

Lando’s head snapped toward Carlos, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Carlos.”

“What?” Carlos said, feigning innocence. “Just giving the kid a shot.”

…

Liam approached with the kind of confidence that only a Red Bull driver could pull off.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “You’re Y/N, right?”

I blinked, momentarily surprised but recovering quickly. “That’s me. And you are?”

“Liam Lawson,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Nice to meet you.”

“How do you know George?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as if he had all the time in the world.

“Through Lando,” I replied, keeping my tone polite but measured. His easy demeanor was almost disarming, but there was something about the way he looked at me that made me hyper-aware of my surroundings.

“Ah, Lando,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Lucky guy. You two seem pretty close.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” I said simply, taking a sip of my drink and trying not to overthink his comment.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “his loss if he hasn’t made a move yet.”

That caught me off guard. My gaze flicked to his, searching for any hint of a joke, but he was entirely serious—or at least good at pretending to be.

“Excuse me?” I asked, my voice betraying my surprise.

Liam grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Just saying. If I were him, I wouldn’t be sitting over there, letting someone else steal your attention.”

The comment was bold, and I didn’t quite know how to respond. My thoughts were a mess of confusion, flattery, and something else I didn’t want to name. Before I could formulate a response, the familiar sound of Lando’s voice cut through the air.

“Liam,” he said smoothly, stepping up to the table. His tone was calm, but his green eyes held a sharpness that made me sit up a little straighter.

Liam glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Christian’s looking for you,” Lando said, his tone casual but firm. “Something about debrief notes.”

Liam frowned, clearly reluctant. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Lando said, nodding. “He seemed pretty keen.”

Liam hesitated, his gaze flicking between me and Lando like he was weighing his options. Finally, he sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“You too,” I replied, watching him leave with a mixture of relief and something I couldn’t quite pin down.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Lando lingered for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he avoided my gaze.

“That,” Charles said, his tone thick with amusement, “was the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Lando shot him a glare, his ears turning faintly red. “Mind your own business, Charles.”

Charles just smirked, raising his glass in mock surrender. “Whatever you say.”

I didn’t say anything, but a flicker of suspicion settled in the back of my mind.

Had Lando just…? No. That would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?

“Let’s get a drink,” Alexandra said, pulling me to my feet.

…

As Alexandra and I made our way back toward the booth, she nudged me gently, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Lando looked like he was about to breathe fire earlier,” she said casually, sipping her drink.

I laughed softly, trying to deflect. “He’s always protective. It’s nothing.”

“Protective?” Alexandra repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That was not protective, chérie. That was jealousy.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped short as we neared the booth, Lando and Charles’s voices filtering through the hum of the room.

“It will just be awkward, mate,” Lando said, his tone low and almost resigned.

“Just talk about it,” Charles replied simply.

“It’s not that simple,” Lando muttered. “She will never be more than just a friend.”

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My chest tightened, and the air around me seemed to still. Alexandra’s hand touched my arm gently, but I barely noticed.

“I— I need some air,” I managed, turning away before she could respond.

The ache in my chest grew with every step I took, his words echoing in my head.

She will never be more than just a friend.

And just like that, everything I thought I’d imagined felt painfully real.

…

I turned my phone face down on the table at Gigi’s, willing myself not to glance at the screen again. The missed calls from Lando were piling up, his name lighting up my notifications every half hour like clockwork. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him—I did. But every time I thought about his voice, his laugh, his damn words, the ache in my chest tightened.

She will never be more than just a friend.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away as the waiter arrived with my order. The smell of rich, cheesy pasta wafted up, comforting in the way only food could be. I twirled a forkful absentmindedly, hoping the carbs would somehow fill the space that had been hollowed out the night before.

The familiar growl of an engine outside pulled my attention from my plate. I glanced toward the window and froze.

The unmistakable silhouette of Lando’s Miura parked just outside, sleek and shining even under the soft glow of streetlights. A moment later, the door opened, and there he was, stepping out effortless as usual—but his expression wasn’t the easygoing grin I was used to. He looked… worried.

Before I could decide what to do, he spotted me through the window, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He pushed through the door, his eyes locking onto mine immediately.

“There you are,” he said, relief evident in his tone as he approached my table.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Lando? What are you doing here?”

He pulled out the chair across from me, sitting down without asking. “Looking for you.”

My heart twisted. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been ignoring me all day,” he said, his voice quieter now.

I looked away, focusing on my fork. “I had my phone off that’s all.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he said finally, his voice softer but steady.

I glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“You always turn to cheesy Italian food when you’re upset,” he said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s your thing.”

The casual observation caught me off guard, a mix of warmth and frustration bubbling in my chest.

“So what?” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “You’re some kind of expert on me now?”

He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Y/N, I know you better than anyone. And I know something’s wrong.”

I didn’t answer, twisting my fork in the pasta and pretending to be engrossed in my meal. But the usual comfort it brought was absent, replaced by the uncomfortable weight of his gaze.

“You’re not yourself,” Lando said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my tone clipped.

“Don’t lie to me,” he replied, his tone more serious than I was used to.

I set my fork down, the clink of metal against porcelain louder than it should have been. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking.”

His eyes softened, his frustration giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

“Lando, I’m fine,” I interrupted, though the words felt hollow.

He didn’t push further, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He sat back, glancing down at my half-finished plate of pasta before gesturing to the waiter.

“Can we get the check, please?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

I frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Paying,” he said simply, standing as the waiter approached.

“For me?”

“Yes,” he said, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “Come on.”

“Come on where?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“You’ll see,” he said, extending a hand.

I hesitated for a moment before letting him pull me to my feet.

The warm night air hit us as we stepped out of Gigi’s, the soft sound of waves in the distance mingling with the faint hum of the city. Lando didn’t say anything, his grip on my hand firm but gentle as he led me toward Larvotto Beach, just a short walk away.

“Lando, seriously,” I said as we reached the sand. “What’s going on?”

He stopped, turning to face me, his green eyes brighter under the moonlight.

“We need to talk.” he said simply.

And just like that, my heart started racing, even though I had no idea what he was going to say.

The beach stretched out before us, quiet except for the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The city lights glittered faintly in the distance, their reflection dancing on the dark water. Lando walked beside me, his shoulders tense, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

For once, I didn’t fill the silence. I didn’t trust myself to. My thoughts were a whirlwind—last night’s overheard words still fresh in my mind, colliding with the unexpected intensity of this moment.

We walked like that for a while, the sand soft beneath our feet, until Lando came to a sudden stop. He turned to face me, his green eyes catching the moonlight in a way that made my stomach twist.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I crossed my arms, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. “Try the beginning.”

He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “The beginning’s too far back. I’d be here all night.”

“Good thing I don’t have anywhere else to be,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression softening. “Y/N, I have a lot of friends. Like, a lot of friends.”

I blinked, confused. “Okay?”

“But none of them get to me the way you do,” he said, his voice dropping.

I stared at him, my breath catching. “What are you saying?”

He glanced out at the water, like he was searching for courage in the rolling waves. “I mean… you’re not just anyone to me. You never have been. You’re the first person I think of when something happens—good or bad. And the idea of upsetting you? It’s unbearable.”

My throat tightened as his words sank in.

“Like today,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly. “You ignored my calls, and I couldn’t stop thinking about whether I’d done something wrong. Whether I hurt you somehow. Because if I did…” He stopped, exhaling sharply, and shook his head. “I can’t stand the thought of you being upset because of me.”

I didn’t respond, too caught up in the flood of emotions his words were pulling from me.

“When you’re upset, it breaks my heart,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “And when you laugh… it’s like my entire day gets brighter. When you’re sad, it feels like my world’s falling apart.”

“Lando,” I started, but he held up a hand, shaking his head.

“I’m not done,” he said, his words tumbling out now, faster and more frantic. “I’ve been feeling like this for so long, and I thought I could just push it aside or pretend it didn’t matter, but it does. It matters so much. And if I messed up—if I’ve ruined this somehow—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You didn’t—”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted, his eyes locking onto mine. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. And I know this might change everything, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

I froze, his confession slamming into me with the force of a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know if this makes sense. I just… I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

Without thinking, I stepped closer, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

For a second, he was completely still, caught off guard. But then he kissed me back, his hands slipping to my waist as he pulled me closer. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened quickly, making the world around me disappear.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us catching our breath.

“So… I’m guessing you feel the same?” he asked, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re so slow sometimes,” I murmured, shaking my head with a laugh.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” I said, smiling.

The relief on his face was almost comical. He pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me tightly like he never wanted to let go.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for so long,” he murmured into my hair.

“And I’ve wanted to hear it,” I admitted, my voice muffled against his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowing slightly. “But… yesterday. Did I say something? Did I—”

I hesitated, my stomach twisting. “I overheard you talking to Charles.”

His face paled. “Oh.”

“You said I’d never be more than a friend,” I said, my voice wavering.

Lando winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, Y/N, that’s not how I meant it at all. I said that because I thought I didn’t stand a chance. Like… you’re so important to me, and I didn’t want to mess up what we already had by wanting something I thought I could never have.”

He looked at me with a mix of regret and hope. “I’m an idiot. It wasn’t because I didn’t want more—it’s because I didn’t think I could have it.”

“You are an idiot,” I said, my lips twitching into a small smile. “But you’re my idiot.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yours, huh? Bold claim.”

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Think you can find someone else to deal with you the way I do?”

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Deal with me? You mean worship my charm and tolerate my perfection?”

“Oh, please,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “The only thing I’m worshipping is the patience I’ve built up putting up with you.”

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me slightly closer, his smirk turning more mischievous. “You love me. Admit it.”

“Not a chance,” I said, even as my pulse quickened.

His gaze dropped to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my eyes again, his voice softening but still teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Before I could respond, he closed the gap, kissing me again with a fierceness that took me by surprise. This wasn’t the hesitant, nervous kiss from before. It was confident, teasing, like everything we’d been holding back had finally snapped into place.

I kissed him back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His hands tightened on my waist, grounding me as he smiled against my lips, murmuring, “Still denying it?”

I broke the kiss just long enough to catch my breath, raising an eyebrow. “You think one kiss is going to make me fold?”

“Two,” he said smugly, leaning in for another without waiting for an answer.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t stop him, meeting him halfway this time. His lips curved into a grin mid-kiss, and I could feel his stupid, insufferable smugness radiating off him.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked when we pulled apart, my voice laced with mock annoyance.

“Unbelievably,” he replied, his grin widening as he rested his forehead against mine. “And don’t pretend you’re not.”

“Maybe I am,” I admitted, smirking. “But if you keep talking, I might start regretting it.”

He laughed, pulling me closer. “Alright, no more talking. For now.”

“Good,” I said, leaning in again, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore fading into the background as everything else fell away.

The weight of everything unsaid was gone, replaced by the warmth of realizing we’d both been fighting our way toward the same truth: we’d always belonged to each other.

When we broke apart, Lando’s grin turned mischievous, and I immediately knew he was up to something. Before I could react, he scooped me up effortlessly and started toward the water.

“Lando! Don’t you dare!” I shrieked, squirming in his arms as laughter bubbled out of me.

“Payback for all those times you called me an idiot,” he teased, stopping just as the waves lapped at his shoes.

He finally set me down, his smirk smug and unapologetic. “Admit it. You love me anyway.”

Figures. I’m in love with someone who steals my fries and once confidently argued that dolphins were just “sea dogs.” I wouldn’t have it any other way though.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Talk 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: Your boss is a funny guy, but there's something else about him that puts you on edge. (maid AU)

Note: he's here.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You set another shining glass on the shelf behind the bar. The work is a bit tedious but you make sure all is perfect. As you turn back to grab another, wiping clean any streaks left by the wash, a shadow wanders in from the tall doorway. 

Mr. Stark rubs his eyes as he walks blindly across the spacious room at the top of Stark Tower. His robe is slack on top, his nudity barely concealed by the lazily tied belt. He groans and yawns as he approaches the bar. He drags his hands back and combs out the silver tufts at his temples. 

“Damn, long night,” he grits out. “Get me a whiskey, honey.” 

You don’t mention the time or his dishevelled state. You just smile and oblige him. That’s the thing about Mr. Stark. He’s a very out there sort of guy. Given all his money, many would say eccentric. As his maid, it isn’t your place to question him either. 

“On it, Mr. Stark,” you beam brightly. He winces. 

“Ugh, jeez, the sunshine’s nice but for the last time, it’s Tony, Mr--” 

“Stark is your father,” you finish for him. “I know.” You put down a fresh glass and uncap his special brand of whiskey. 

He leans on the bar and scoops up the glass before you finish, spilling a drop onto the surface. You quickly sop it up with a cloth. You put away the bottle in the cabinet and he sighs. 

“Last night was...” he stops and snickers. “Long.” 

“Busy, I’m sure,” you agree as you turn back to your work. He is a hero and you imagine he has a lot of late ones. 

“Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t believe it. This woman. Mmm.” 

“Is she okay? Did she get hurt? You saved her right?” You spin to face him. 

He laughs again, “I was off duty.” 

You nod, confused, but don’t ask what he means. He says a lot of things that just kind of go over your head. It’s just who he is. Always joking around. You’re surprised given that he chose to take on such a serious role. An Avenger of all things. 

“How about you pour yourself a glass, honey?” He slurps and slams down his empty glass. 

“Oh, I can’t. I’m working.” 

“Right, but I’m your boss.” 

“Yeah, but... I wouldn’t do a very good job if I was tipsy,” you shrug and set another glass away. 

“Light weight?” He wonders. 

“Sensitive tummy,” you answer with another bright grin. “The cleaner dropped off your suit for tonight.” 

“Great,” he says with less approval than the word would suggest. He watches you and you carry on. “How long have you been here?” 

“Just a bit. I just got started on all this. Didn’t get much further than clearing up the empties,” you explain. 

“Mm, how about you go work on the bedroom. I left a mess in there,” he reaches over the bar and grabs the bottle of whiskey, twisting free the blocky stopper to swig directly from the neck. 

“Sure, uh, I’ll finish this after then,” you step back from the rows of glasses. “Anything else? Maybe some coffee?” 

“Nah, this will wake me up,” he wiggles the bottle and spins away. 

You leave him as he goes to the couch and flops down. The drinking isn’t new. You would be concerned if you had any place to be. Of course, who wouldn’t worry about the world’s best hero being a lush? 

You head off to his bedroom with a bounce in your step. You’re thankful for what you have. It’s nice working in Stark Tower. You try not to mention to the other women at the agency all the perks. Usually a free meal and a few gift cards out of gratitude. Your work isn’t difficult, even if the place is humongous. 

The bedroom door is open as you approach. You sweep inside. The curtains are drawn, the space dim. You go over to the floor length drapes and pull the cord to part them, letting in the morning. You hear a whine and turn to find a pear-shaped bottom, naked and defined, right out in the cold. You nearly let out a squeal yourself. 

“Ugh, my head,” the brunette groans and rolls over, hugging the silky duvet, “close that, Ton.” 

You clear your throat. She doesn’t react. She merely buries her head under arm and grumbles. You look around then swing your arms awkwardly as you move cautiously around the room. You tidy up the little things, trying not to make too much noise. 

“Goddamn, what are you doing?” A pillow hits your back and you turn to face the woman as she sits up, her supple chest exposed. “Tony! Ahhhhh!” She shrieks and you cover your ears. “Who the fuck are you?” 

You wince and show your teeth. You press your hands to your cheeks and sink into your shoulder, “I’m the maid.” 

“The maid!? Where--” She looks around, “where is Tony?” 

“He’s having a drink--” 

“So what? He sent you to show me the door? God, I know he’s slimy but fuck’s sakes,” she pushes herself off the bed and scoops up her dress from the floor. 

“Can I steam that for you?” You offer. She is a guest after all. 

“Get the fuck away from me,” she holds her arm out and flicks her fingers in your direction. 

You flinch, “alright, uh, coffee--” 

“Oh, would you go!? I need to get out of here. Urgh!” She throws the wrinkled dress over her head and grabs her heels from the floor. “I can’t believe that bastard. Couldn’t even give me a Berkin.” 

She storms out and you stare after her. You frown. You hope Mr. Stark doesn’t think you said anything wrong. You were perfectly nice. 

You sniff and go to the bed to tidy the sheets. A strip of black lace falls free. You pick up the panties in a pinch and look to the door. You scurry around and into the hall. 

“Miss! You forgot--” 

She’s gone. You stop, still holding up the panties. You shake your head. They are entirely impractical. Your cheeks would be chafing. 

“Oh, those are sexy,” Stark’s voice draws you around and he winks. You blanch at the under wear in your hand and hide them behind your back. “Yours?” 

“Sir, uh... no... your guest, er, left.” 

“Ah, yes, her,” he scoffs. “Forgettable.” 

“Mm, okay, uh, well, I suppose I’ll just toss these.” You say. 

“What a waste. How about you give ‘em a quick wash and try em on,” he snickers. 

“Sir, you’re so silly,” you shake your head. “I gotta finish making the bed.” 

“Go on, get on it. You deserve the break,” he purrs as he follows you, stopping at the doorway as you enter.  

You ignore him and put the panties on the night table. You shake out the duvet and drop the corner, suppressing a gasp at the stains on the sheet. Oh. 

“What’s the matter, honey?” He asks. 

You shake off your revulsion, “just remembered,” you grab the pillows and strip off the covers, “laundry day.” 

“Is it?” He hums. 

“Yes, sir, uh, Tony,” you pull down the corners of the fitted sheet. 

“Too bad,” he tuts. “Was looking forward to a lazy day in bed.” 

“I can get a fresh set,” you offer as you crumple up the bedding near the foot of the frame. 

“Bah, fuck it. No use laying in bed alone,” he mutters. “What was it you said about coffee?” 

[little-miss-fandom-freak]

This isn't a request or anything I just had a funny thought but like, imagine if the Justice League finally got evidence that Y/N is innocent, and they tried to visit but Phosphorus is just. Booing and throwing trash at the League members. Y/N may join in also. Bonding time 🩷

Okay I know I need to be working on my other asks but I LOVE THIS

Dr. Phosphorus X Former Hero!Reader Pt 2.

Little note: I did want this to end on a happier note and I found it hard to be mad at Superman lol

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

You didn't understand why Superman and Batman were here in Belle Reve. You had assumed it was for some meeting with Waller until one of the guards approached you and your team.

"C'mon," She said as she lifted your shoulder, "you got visitors."

You looked around, completely confused. "Visitors? Who would be visiting me?" The guard didn't respond as she pulled you away from the table and put your hands in cuffs. He tried to shrug them off, determined to stay with you. You gave him a stern look, one that said 'don't do anything that will get you in trouble'. He sighed as he took a step back, letting the guards take you out to the courtyard.

You were shocked to find out that your former teammates were the visitors. You tried to dig your heels into the concrete, causing the gurads to struggle as they dragged you to them. "I have nothing to say to you two!" You yelled from across the courtyard.

They gave each other a look before Superman took a step forward. "Lose the cuffs, guys. She's won't do anything."

The guards looked to Waller for confirmation. She nodded, giving them permission to take the tight handcuffs off. You rubbed your wrist as the two approached you. "Leave me alone, Superman." You said with spite

"Look..." He started, clearly trying to find the right words to say. "I know there's no taking back everything that's happened these past few years, but I hope you understand why we did it."

"You mean how the whole team left me to rot in a cell, not even showing up for my trials!" You yelled.

"We wanted to, but it wasn't a good time. For any of it. You have to believe us." He pleaded.

"Why should I? It's not like you believed a word I said!" You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm yourself. "I hope you two didn't come all the way out here just to apologize and think I'll forgive you, cause there's no way in hell-"

"The court has decided to give you bail." Batman said, stopping you mid rant.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing right now. "Give me bail? Why?"

"While you were locked up, things changed. New laws were made, old ones were fixed, and your lawyer found new evidence to support your case. If you choose to go to trail and plead not guilty, there's a chance you'll make bail. And I would be happy to pay it, if you promise to return to the Justice League."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Back in the rec room, Phosphorus was standing on top of one of the tables that he had pushed against the wall, trying to get a view of what was going on outside. Nina and Bride had joined him; for Nina it was out of concern, for Bride it was simply because she was bored.

"What are they saying?" He mumbled, his grip on the bars tightening as he tried to listen.

"It has to be something about her case." Said Bride. "With how long she's been in here, and not a single visit before, there must've been a change."

Phosphorus didn't know how to take that. Was there more that you didn't tell him? Were more years added to your sentence? Are you getting transferred? Or worse, did they find you innocent?

The Bride side glanced at Phosphorus, a knowing smirk graced her lips. "You know, you're really bad at pretending you're not the "jealous boyfriend" type."

His head whipped around in her direction, his flames rose but she couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

"I-I just- you- just-just shut up!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You thought for a moment, you weren't quite sure how to respond. "If I come back, I want a few things."

Batman scoffed. "Do you really think you're in the position to be negotiating?"

"I'll have you know, prison life hasn't been all that bad for me." You said with sass as your crossed your arms. "Once I got over the feeling of betrayal, I actually formed relationships with the inmates."

"Really?" Superman cringed at the thought. "But they're murderers-"

"At least they know loyalty."

"Barely." Batman shot back.

You gritted your teeth. "Task Force M has showed more loyalty to me than any if the Justuce League. I'm am perfectly fine with staying in here, you're the ones who want me back. So, do we have a deal?"

Batman glared at you before he made up his mind. "What do you want?"

You tense shoulders relaxed slightly. "My team, I want to be able to see them while I'm out. Not just visitation hours, I want them out of Belle Reve when I see them."

Superman and Batman looked at each other, before Batman looked to Waller. She shrugged. "Task Force M has been more well behaved than usual. If they can keep it up, I'm sure I can arrange something."

You nodded to Waller, silently thanking her for her cooperation. You turned back to the men in front of you. "Looks like I'm back."

A wide smile filled Suoerman's face. He rushed to you a scooped you up into a hug. "You have no idea how hard it was not to visut you, but we were under so much fire at the time. The governmentthought it would be safer if we temporarilydropped connections. "

You embraced the hug, realizing how much you actually missed your old team. Suddenly, you heard muffled yelling coming from across the courtyard. Looking to your left, you saw Phosphorus yelling something you couldn't hear but Superman could.

"Um, why is the glowing skeleton yelling at me to get my hands off of you?" He asked, clearly concerned.

You chuckled. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Suddenly, several peices of trash came flying your way. Well, not exactly flying. They hit the ground several feet away from the three of you, but the action was enough to make the guards inside tackle your partner.

With a sigh, you removed yourself from the hug. "We should head back in."

As Waller and the guards led you all back inside, Batman came up beside you.

"Phosphorus? Really?"

You smiled slightly as you shrugged. "What can I say, he's got charm."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, it's called radiation. I don't think he's good for you-"

"Don't go all dad-mode on me Bats, we're still the same age remember?"

He scoffed. "And yet you're the one making juvenile dating choices."

"Uh huh, and how's it going with Selena?" You said with a shit-eating grin. He was quiet for a few moments.

"Fair point." He said, causing you to let out a laugh. As much as you hated them, and how long it will be before eyour relationships are repaired, you couldn't deny that you missed moments like this.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I hope you enjoyed this and if you have anything you would like me to personally respond to, message me or put it in my ask box because as of right now, Tumblr won't let me respond to comments :)

[dimlylittorch]

Logan Howlett with a golden retriever boyfriend is soooo cutesy

My Masterlist🌱

Logan Howlett x transmasc!sweetheart!reader

i need this man to be my black cat boyfriend :((

Idk i just imagine Logan running into this sweet little guy (no I’m not talking about myself why would you even think that-) and said little guy getting attached to him immediately. Logan wouldn’t know what to do with himself tbh, he just has this little ray of sunshine as his shadow now and he’s not exactly hating the attention.

You get his number as soon as you can, saving his name into your phone with some cute emoji that makes his eyes hurt. Promising him that you’ll text him soon, saying how you can’t wait to hang out sometime. Logan being slightly dazed from the entire interaction, not used to people actually wanting to be around him.

The two of you having completely different text tones but it doesn’t phase you at all. He’s a bit on the dry side but you tell him he should use emoticons since he doesn’t like emojis. You were practically squealing the first time he sent a ‘:)’ at the end of a message. You love to use exclamation points, and he honestly loves it because he knows that’s exactly how you’d be talking about it in person- a little ball of excitement.

He can’t get enough of you and your personality. You’re not like most people he meets, you’re way more real. A natural giver, laughing all the time, witty humor.. god you were something else. The first time you two went out together he couldn’t admit to himself that he was a little nervous. Could he keep up with your energy? Would you think he’s boring? He wasn’t much of a constant talker like you. Would you mind?

It turns out you didn’t mind at all. You were good at matching people’s energies, but also good at balancing them. When he was quiet, you’d get more excited and talk so he didn’t have to. When he was talking you’d simply smile up at him and listen attentively. You were just so happy to be in his presence.. he wasn’t used to it.

One of the first things he noticed about you was how socially aware you were. It was like a second nature to you- monitoring how other people were feeling and assessing how you should act in return. He never failed to notice how your smile got so much brighter when he laughed at your joke, or when you caught a smile on his lips.

At one point when the two of you were walking down the street you saw how he tensed slightly at the sight of a bar with a group of rowdy drunks outside. As if it was instinct for you, you switched sides with him so you would be closer to them- not him. Taking his hand in your own and squeezing it slightly, trying to offer a comforting gesture. Now- he had been on edge with concerns for your safety. But silly little you took it upon yourself to what- protect him? The thought amused him and made his heart flutter nonetheless.

One of the drunk men throwing a bottle at the ground, it flying too close to Logan for your liking. Immediately turning and grabbing the guys collar even though you were quite a few inches shorter, yanking him down to your level. “If that had hit him, we’d be having fucking problems” you seethe. “You understand me?” Logan is practically frozen as he watches you, honestly surprised you’d react like that. You had been nothing but sweet all day.

The drunkard quickly fumbles with his words, barely able to stand straight. He thinks about shoving you off, but when he sees the glare Logan is shooting his way he decides against it. He just scoffs and pulls away, turning back to his friends who were all laughing. When you turn back to Logan he has a smirk on his face, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders as you continue to walk. “Could’ve handled him myself” he muses.

Huffing softly as you slip your hand into Logan’s jacket pocket to keep him close, you continue your walk. “You’re too pretty to have to deal with dickheads like that” you muttered, causing a heat to bloom in Logan’s chest. His little guard dog.

The first time the two of you kissed was one of his favorite memories. It was the holiday season, and you two decided to hang out for New Year’s Eve. Having been resting on either end of the couch, both of you wishing you could work up the nerve to get closer. The doorbell rang and you stood up to go get it, knowing it was the pizza you had ordered. As soon as you close the door and set the pizza on the kitchen counter, you hear the roar of cheers from outside of the apartment, people celebrating in the streets. Before you can even utter the words ‘happy new year Logan’ he slips next to you and cups your chin, pulling you into a kiss.

“Happy New Year, bub” he whispered against your lips as soon as he broke away. Staring up at him, you had the cutest look of surprise- one he would remember forever. When it finally registered what he had done you quickly wrapped your arms around his torso with a squeal of excitement, almost making him fall over. As soon as he stabilizes himself with a huff, you lean up to kiss him sweetly, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down to your level. Laughing against his lips, he can’t help but grin himself. “What’s so funny?” He smirked.

Giggling softly as you looked up at him, he saw that glint in your eye he always loved. “Can we be boyfriends?” You’d practically beamed up at him. Christ, how could he say no to a face like that?

[peoniesnro]

In Another Universe

#13. Falling Deep and Down

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe / kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings- Language/ Angst / INFIDELITY /NO SMUT (This is a warning)

Word count- 17k ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

a/n- Firstly, HAPPY NEW YEAR BABIES!!!! (I know I'm late but it still counts). Secondly, yay!!! the first chapter of the new year and I finally managed to make it shorter than the previous one. And hell this one took so long. I'm so sorry for the long wait. I hope you'd enjoy the chapter, though. I'd say this chapter is the calm before the storm. That's why there's no SMUT (Sorry @jimincrystal this is one of those unavoidable situations. Otherwise I'd have ended up writing 30K+ words). So, happy readings guys. (Thank you for reading like always ❤️)

Taglist?

Chapter Index

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You sit in Kim’s kitchen. Eyes glued to your phone. You’ve watched this same video repeatedly at least dozens of times now. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You’re not surprised at all to say the least. You completely expected to find a video floating all around the internet as soon as you woke up this morning. That’s such a normal thing in this era. People usually post the most mundane things. Hence, there’s no surprise they posted a woman getting slapped in a crowded club. But still, you know that they didn’t post it because of you. Whoever recorded the video did it because of Liya. And Jimin. And all the other high profiles there.

The good thing is, however, that the video isn’t clear. You can’t really make out who’s slapping who. Both yours and Liya’s faces are completely hidden from the frame. And the quality is shittier than a VHS tape left on a rain. The videographer was either clearly drunk or didn’t know how to use the video feature. And you haven’t found any other video than this one. It’s surprising. You’d call it mere luck. But then it doesn’t make it any less of a problem. Even though you and Liya are hidden from the frame- surrounded by so many people- you can still make out Jimin’s and Jin’s face quite clearly. That makes you want to pull your hair. Can’t even imagine the ruckus this must be causing for them. Not that you can be of any help. You’re the one who caused all these problems in the first place.

“Anything interesting there?” You snap your eyes away from your phone screen to look at Mrs. Kim. Sitting next to you and peeling onions. “You’ve been watching that for a quiet some time now.” She explains further. It’s still early morning and there’s no business for you here. You should be getting ready for work, if anything.

Hell, no.

There’s no way you would go to work after all that. You’re beyond humiliated. You will not do the walk of shame. Mrs. Kim has been nagging you for a better thirteen minutes now. Asking why you are not going to work, but you’ve managed to brush off her questions. It seems like her questions aren’t over. You open your mouth wearily to tell her that it’s nothing when your phone is snatched away from you.

“Yah…” You mumble tiredly. Not even fully turning around to face Jungkook, who pocketed your phone instantly.

“I told you to stop watching the stupid video. What would you gain from watching it hundred times? it’s not like you gonna find anything new. It’s the same old shit every time.” He scolds you before turning around to mind his work. Apart from you, Jungkook is another person who has no business being here. He has classes. He needs to leave. Yet he doesn’t. Refuses to leave you alone as if you’d do something stupid. Well, what can you say? He’s Jeon Jungkook.

He won’t leave you alone. Hasn’t been since the very moment he walked you out of the club. He was there when you practically bite off your thumbs while you were on a cab. He was the one who yanked your hands away when you accidentally hurt yourself and started bleeding. He had panicked to see you bleeding as if it was your head instead of your finger. He was the one who instantly pulled you into his embrace when you finally broke apart. It was funny how you tried to keep it all inside, but it all burst out when you saw yourself bleeding. It was just a teeny wound, but you used that as an excuse. You cried and cried and cried. Wailed. Like you’ve lost someone who’s so dear to you. The case is that you really felt like that. You cried because you felt like you lost Jimin. Because of the humiliation. Because of the self-pity. In the end, there was Jungkook- holding you tight, mumbling soothing words in your ear. There was Jungkook, who refused to let you go. Who pulled you into his lap disregarding the cab driver. He had held you and rocked you. Until you managed to pull yourself together again. He was there the entire time and he’s still here.

“Give it back Kookie.” You turn around in your seat wearily. You’re absolutely exhausted from all the crying. Mentally wearied off that you’re barely even functioning.

“No. You’re gonna watch the same shit again.” He ignores you completely. You sigh heavily. You need your phone back. Not just to watch the video and feel the same hot embarrassment over again. No. You need it to see if Jimin has texted you. See now, you know that is so fucked up. After everything that happened. After Jimin walked after Liya and had watched you walk away with his hands around her. After the slap you received, you still want to hear from Jimin. At this rate, it just isn’t for satisfying your greedy self, however. You need to know whether he is okay. You need to know how it went. Not with Liya but with the video.

“You need to attend your classes. C’mon, you can leave me. I’ll be fine with Mrs. Kim.” You glance over at the said woman. She furrows her brows at Jungkook. Clicks her tongue.

“Are you skipping classes young man? Should I call your mom?” There’s a very serious warning look on her face. You would’ve laughed at that if it wasn’t for your zombie like state. Jungkook gives you a sneaky but disapproving look.

“I have no classes. Don’t worry darling, I’m gonna make you proud in the end. I’m better than Joonie. You know it.” Says dismissively. Winks at the poor woman and of course she eats the bait. You try to open your mouth but the sudden sound of kitchen door opening interrupts you. The new recruit- a young boy who stole your table wiping duties- appears on the doorway.

“There’s someone to meet you.” He awkwardly mumbles while gesturing at you. Your heart skips a beat instantly before it picks up the rhythm of beating. Weariness you were feeling, suddenly evaporating into thin air as you looks up at the boy with wide eyes. There’s someone to meet you. And that someone can very well be Park Jimin. Hope bubbles inside you. Only for it to pop out at his next words. “I- uh- I think that’s your sister. You two look alike.” He scratches his head stupidly. A heavy sigh leaves past your lips. That’s in disappointment. You feel so disappointed that even your eyes prick with new tears.

“You got to be kidding me.” You whip your head toward Jungkook at his sudden voice. Just in time to catch him, throw his apron away. Is already walking toward the door.

Oh, no!

You practically jump onto your feet. Startling poor Mrs. Kim as she watches you with wide eyes. You don’t pay her any mind as you sprint after Jungkook. Storming past the new boy who looks equally startled as Mrs. Kim. You have no idea how Jungkook moves that fast but when you enter the dining area, he is already face to face with a calm Liya. Staring her down. Or glaring her down.

“You’re not welcomed here.” Jungkook grits his teeth. You notice how tight his jaw is as you make it to his side.

“Jungkook!” You grab his arm. Try to make him turn away from Liya to no avail. He’s like a boulder. Doesn’t even budge. Yet Liya’s eyes fall on you instantly. For a brief moment before she looks back at Jungkook.

“Yeah? I don’t think I’ve done anything to be on the blacklist. Besides, you’re no one to put the CEO of The SE in a blacklist boy. So, if you just care to step aside─” Liya’s eyes shift from Jungkook to you again. She forces a smile which looks more like a sneer. “─ I’m here to have a word with my sweet sister.” Completes her sentence. Only that it makes Jungkook steps to his side, however. Completely guarding you from her view. You groan annoyingly. No one hears it.

“I don’t care if you’re damn CEO or the fucking president. Get your fucking ass out while I’m nice Ms. Kim." Jungkook is oozing venom. It’s weird to see him mad.

“Jungkook please.” You try again. Step away so you can see Liya again.

“Yes, Jungkook, listen to your little owner. Stop trying to be her guard dog since she looks like capable of doing lots of things without your help.” Liya gives Jungkook a mocking smile.

Okay, that’s it.

She can mock you all the much she wants. Can slap you, yell at you, publicly humiliate you, or anything else that makes her feel good. But she isn’t bringing Jungkook into this. No. This is where you won’t be just listening.

“He has nothing to do with this, Liya. Please, just leave him out of it.” You step forward. Bringing yourself to your full height. Your voice sharp. “You wanted to see me, what is it?” This time you manage to drag Jungkook an inch back.

“Noona!” He whisper yells. You just give him a stern look. He reads you well. Liya scoffs. Eyes shifting between you and Jungkook.

“Well, look at you. How sweet. Sticking for each other. You’re damn lucky sis.” Sighs. “And yes, I wanted to meet you. Hope, you’re not busy fucking someone else’s boyfriend.”

“Fucking leave!” Jungkook nearly plunges forward before you catch him. Turning around blocking his path. Place your palm on his chest. Looks at his face. He looks furious. Doesn’t look at you right away. But when he does, his features softens immediately.

“It’s fine Jungkook. Please. Let me handle this.” You mutter softly. Looks at him expectantly. For a moment, it looks like he would dare to kick Liya out of the restaurant. Then after a long second, just sighs. Takes a step back.

“Fine, but if she tries to hit you again, I want you to give her a blue eye.” Pouts at you. Apparently, doesn’t give a fuck about the fact that Liya can hear him. Waits until you agree. He can be insufferable sometimes. Yet you nod anyway.

……………………………………….

You patiently sit at a corner table at Kim’s. Where nobody in the kitchen can hear you. Since it’s still morning and there’s no breakfast serving, the entire restaurant is free of any patrons. Liya just blinks at your face. Her expression is calm and somewhat smug. It makes you want to scream. Curiosity and anxiety are eating you inside out. Whatever is the reason for her visit, you know that can’t be any good. You really wish you could snap at her. Ask her ‘what the fuck she wants’. Unfortunately for you, you can’t do something like that. Not when you feel like shrinking into a shrimp. Guilty. Ashamed. You can’t even look her in the eyes. You owe her the biggest apology. Yet you can’t bring yourself to do even that. It feels stupid. You need to try, though. She deserves at least that.

“Liya I-I’m so─”

“Don’t. I’m not here so you can apologize and find peace.”

You close your mouth which you opened to do just that. A wave of embarrassment ripples through you at her tone. Dismissive. Condescending. Your cheeks grow hot. It’d feel nice to be able to talk back. Defend yourself. How unfortunate that you’ve lost any right to do so.

“Then why are you here Liya? You gonna pay me to stay away from your boyfriend?” You mutter wearily. The exhaustion finding its way back to you. You have no energy to do this. Not now anyway. You know you’re wrong. You know you’re the biggest lying bitch. Yet you’re also human who feels drained off. You have to bite back the urge to cry hard.

Liya takes a minute. As if she’s processing your words as you keep eyeing her. Then all of a sudden, she crackles up with laughter. So loud that you recoil in your chair. Her giggles, which are like sweet venom, fill the entire space. For the people in the kitchen this might seem like an adorable moment for two sisters. Except for Jungkook, of course. You gape at her with an open mouth as she keeps laughing like you’ve made the biggest joke of the year. Okay, this is getting out of hand now. It is one thing not to be able to fight back when you’re the one who’s guilty. Still, it’s completely another to getting demeaned this way. You clench your teeth hard to keep your exhaustion and pain from turning into anger. It won’t get you anywhere. You need to be patient. And luckily it doesn’t take long. Liya puffs out a breath shortly after. Trying to sober from her blown out laughter.

“That was funny.” She croaks. You remain silent. You deserve this shit after all. You brought this on yourself. “Why would you ever think that I would pay. For you. To stay. Away from my boyfriend?” She leans forward to look you dead in the eye. “That’s so funny to even think. You’re the bitch here and you think I should pay you?”

“I didn’t say that Liya.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. Not wanting to bide your time with this woman. Yes, you’re wrong and you know that. Still, it doesn’t mean you have to do this. “All I’m asking is to get done with your business. Why are you here?” Liya’s smile vanishes at that.

“Okay, I like that you still have some nerves to act like you have any rights to do so.” Shrugs. You will yourself to stay calm. “So, how long are you gonna stay here? It’s like all my advice have been fallen into deaf ears. I asked you to leave as soon as you can sissy, you didn’t listen. Now look where we are. Look at the mess you have created. Do you have any idea how much trouble it caused us? Caused Jimin?” She raises one of her brows. You gulp harshly. That’s the part you’ve been afraid of. It caused Jimin problems. You feel your heart shatter.

“I- uh…” You try in vain to say something. You can’t. So, you just downcast your eyes to your lap. Heart heavy with guilt.

“Look, like I told you earlier, I really don’t want to fight with myself. Despite everything we’re still two versions of the same person. I mean it’s crazy how different we are, like I will never do something that cheap you know—” That condescending, smug smile finds its way back on her face. “—It’s cheap, what you did.” Adds. You shut your eyes for a moment.

Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.

If Jungkook ever heard that, he’d really hit Liya without caring for the fact that she’s a woman. But you need to remain calm. It’s your fault. It’s your wrongdoing. “But still, I hope we have at least some things in common.” Liya continues. “Like I expect that you want to preserve whatever still left in your dignity. I hope you’re smart. So, lil sis, I hope you’ll find this a chance to do the right thing.” You hate that she calls you sister. Why would she do that? To make you feel worse. You force yourself to look at her.

“If it isn’t for you, at least do it for the others. Like you have no idea how much of a damage you’re causing in Jimin’s life just because you’re wet.” You flinch at the word. Liya keeps going. “I think you’ve become friends with everyone. So, in that case, it’s safe to think that you won’t want to cause them harm now, will you? You don’t know how hard boys worked for the company. How much time and money they poured into it. And this?” She gestures at you. “A single mistake is enough to ruin everything. Jimin will lose everything and so will his friends. And I really wish you’re not someone who’d be that selfish.” Tilts her head. It takes you a second to realize that she’s expecting an answer from you.

“Wh-what do you want me to do? Just because you ask, I can’t stop coming here. It’s going to happen whether I like it or not.” You refrain from telling her the part where you only have a year. That’s none of her business. Liya smiles softly.

“That’s a shame but no. That’s not what I’m asking. All I’m asking is for you to stay away. It’s not that hard now, is it? If you really want to get- uh- lemme be straightforward- dicked down that badly—” She points toward the kitchen with her thumb. “Let me tell you that boy there would be more than glad to give you what you want.”

“Keep. Him. Out of it Liya.” You grit your teeth for the first time since she arrived. She chuckles at your glare.

“Okay. Whatever you want. It’s up to you anyway. What I want is for you to stay away. From Jimin and the company.” Her voice turns serious back again. “It’s not just my relationship with Jimin that you’re ruining. You’re ruining his career and future. All for what? A bliss that you could live for couple months until you inevitably return. Jimin would have to face all the consequences alone. Don’t be that selfish. You might be a little college girl who still doesn’t understand how harsh the world is. So, let me teach you sweety, it’s not one of those romance novels you read and Jimin isn’t a prince who’s going to sacrifice his career for you either. In the end, you’re going to ruin everyone’s life. Stay away. Resign.” With that she gets to her feet. The chair scrapes against the floor at the force she does that. “And listen to my words while I’m still being nice. Don’t think it’s just a mere coincidence that there is only one video and our faces aren’t clear. We had to go through hell to get everything cleared up.” Turns around.

Well, that makes perfect sense. And it makes sense why you’re not in any pain either. If your faces were clear in that video, people could’ve been confused who’s Liya. That certainly could’ve put you in pain. But you’re not in pain. Unless you don’t consider the way your heart aches right now. At what she said. At the implication. At how true every word she uttered. You’re a saboteur. A selfish bitch who ruined everything. You look up at her with glassy eyes. Of course, she is telling the truth, and you need to do as she asks. Liya is a smart woman, she had hit the nail right on the head. You would’ve thrown all the care out of the window when it comes to you, but you care about Jimin too much. Care about Hoseok. Taehyung. Seokjin. Care about each and every one. So, you will heed her words. Still, however, there has been a question that had made your head hurt to think.

“You suspected, didn’t you? There’s no way you could’ve been so oblivious.” Your voice comes out hoarse. Liya stops and partially turn around. She knows what you’re implying at.

“Of course, I did. I’m no fool. You two were too close. Emi always let me know how much time you spent in his office.”

“Then why?” You press your fingers into your thighs. “Why caused so much commotion if you knew?”

“No. I didn’t know. That’s completely two different things. I suspected. That’s it and I’m not happy to be found out that my suspicions were right. It hurt me. You know, I may not look like it, but I care about Jimin. I was with him for five years. And I will not allow anything or anyone to change it. To answer your question, that’s none of your business. Just know that everything I do have valid reasons. I don’t play for fun. I play for win.”

Her boyfriend.

You don’t stop her this time. Just watch her disappear with a blurry gaze. She steps out from the door at the same time when Jungkook enters. You don’t look at his face. Just because you want to hide your tears. He says nothing either. Places your phone in front of you on the table before sitting next to you. Pulls you into his embrace and you let him.

You wait that way until you finally feel like you can breathe again. Until Mrs. Kim calls out for Jungkook. So, you reassure him you’re fine. Wait till he’s gone to unlock your phone. Not knowing what you’re going to do when a new notification catches your attention. A new message.

I’m so sorry Spring Roll. Please don’t be mad at me. Let’s talk today? Meet me at my office, I’ll wait for you. – Park.

……………………………….

You truly didn’t want to do this. Not at all. Yet after sitting alone at the empty table for hours. Almost until the place started to fill with patrons, you came to a decision. Liya was absolutely right. You played with fire and nearly got everyone burnt in that. Not that you ever wished for it. Not even in your dreams that you wanted to cause any harm to Park Jimin or his friends. Now, though, since you have nearly come to it, this is your cue to finally do something about it. Grow up. Prove that you’re not a naïve college girl even though that’s who you are. You need to take responsibility for your actions. You need to apologize to people who deserve that. And lastly you need to step away from their lives and accept that yours is not a fairy tale even if it’s so full of wonders.

That’s your reason for being back here again in the RUN building. You are going to do it properly and end this. You are going to meet Hoseok and resign. Are going to apologize to him. To Taehyung and Seokjin. And of course, you are going to do the same with Park Jimin. You clench your fists into tight balls at the thought of him. Digging crescents into your palms. It hurts to think what you’re about to do. You haven’t replied to his text. Didn’t feel the need to do so. You don’t know what you’re going to tell him. You don’t know what he’s planning to tell you. That doesn’t matter, however. Like Liya said, there’s no point in your sneaky games. It’s better if you build the guts to end it now before Jimin will do it sooner or later.

Jimin isn’t a prince who’s going to sacrifice his career for you either.

Yes. That’s it. This will be the last time you walk across this lobby. So, you steel yourself not to look around you. It’s not like all of these busy people might have seen the video or know what happened. Still, you feel like walking through a forest of eyes. As if everyone is looking at you and laughing. Whispering. In reality, you know that no one gives a damn. Even with that, however, your palms are extra sweaty as you run toward the elevator. The doors nearly close as you rush toward them. You become almost convinced that you missed it when someone inside hurriedly stretch their arm to open the doors back. You swiftly push yourself inside with a soft ‘thank you’ before you raise your head to meet your helper.

“Oh!” It leaves your mouth involuntarily as you’re met with the wide eyes of Taehyung.

“Hey!” He mumbles in return as you bow to him slightly. He does the same to you. Fortunately, or unfortunately it’s just you two in the elevator. You decide it’s the latter when an uncomfortable silence falls between you as Taehyung presses the button to your floor. It’s awkward. It was never awkward with Kim Taehyung. He’s a social butterfly who’d make small talk with a blank wall. This is a testament to how uncomfortable you have made him. Or not. “Um... are you okay?” He surprises you with those next words.

“Huh?” You gape at him stupidly.

“You know. The video and all those shits. Didn’t expect to see you at work today.”

“Oh, I- uh- I’m fine Taehyung. I mean as fine as I could be. And I’m not here to work. I’m resigning.” You blurt out. Taehyung’s eyes go wide again.

“Wait, what? Why? You don’t have to do that. I mean—”

“Really. Tae?” You almost laugh at that. “You think I don’t have to do that after everything?”

“Well, it’s personal, isn’t it? It has nothing to do with the work and we took care of everything else. And if this is about Liya, she holds no power over what we should do in our company. You can continue to work as long as you wish.”

You sigh heavily. “You need to stop doing that Tae. I don’t know what’s all of your guys’ problem with Liya. But you need to admit that this is wrong. I don’t know how good or bad Liya is- I mean to you, but this isn’t okay.”

“Well, I didn’t say you should keep it up with Jimin. I’m saying that you shouldn’t give up on your job because of that.” Taehyung knits his eyebrows. This is the most serious you’ve ever seen him. It doesn’t suit him.

“And you think we’ll not end up doing it again if we’re in the same vicinity.”

“Why? You can’t resist each other?” A smile creeps on his face. Makes you roll your eyes.

“Don’t go there Kim Taehyung. Not the time.”

“Sorry.” That smile disappears. Yet you still prefer it when he is unserious. “But still, Li, don’t do this because of it. Jimin won’t like it. I don’t want him to blame himself. He cares, you know.” Taehyung looks at you expectantly. As if he’s waiting for you to confirm it. Say that you know. Well, do you know that? Maybe. You’re not sure. So, you do nothing but just stare back at him. That makes Taehyung chuckles. Almost in a pitiful way. “Gosh, I really want him to be able to do something. To have a choice. To be able to say fuck it and do whatever he wants.” Taehyung shoves his hands in his pockets. Throws his head back. You won’t ask him why Jimin can’t do that. Because you know he can’t. That leaves you with the question why Taehyung can’t do it.

It’s funny how you and him never had a one-on-one serious conversation. You despised him when you first met him. Then when you started doing same morally gray shits as him, you slowly start to like him. Still, you never asked him why he does what he does. “Then why can’t you Taehyung? I’m sure you’re not bound to have responsibilities as much as Jimin. Why don’t you just say fuck it and do whatever you want?”

“I am doing it aren’t I? I live my life the way I want.”

“Do you? Your life is as fucked as mine or Jimin’s. C’mon, no offense, but your relationship with Seoyeon isn’t the best now, is it? You act like you can’t even stand being in the same room as her.” You’re not even joking here. Taehyung sure does appear like trying to run away from his girlfriend half the time. “Why? Like, why are you still in a relationship that you can’t stand? Why cheating around and still keep her with you?”

Taehyung shrugs. His face turns grim. “I don’t know. I just feel bad.”

“Bad about what?”

“Just breaking up with her. Seoyeon isn’t bad as she appears.” Well, you don’t think she’s bad at all. “I just don’t love her. Never did. I don’t know why I asked her to be my girlfriend in the first place and when I realized I fucked up, it was already too late. I just don’t know how to commit. I can’t do that. It drains me off. And now I feel bad to leave her alone.”

“And you don’t feel bad to cheat on her? I know I’m not the person who should say this but that’s not fair. Not to her and not to you either. If you want to live a liberating life, then you should do it the right way. She deserves to have everything in her life too. Someone who’d love her and you’re keeping her away from that. It’s worse than breaking up with her.”

Taehyung blinks at your face. Opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by the ding sound of elevator door opening. Well, you didn’t plan on having that conversation with Kim Taehyung. And you know you’re the last person who should give him moral advice. Yet you think yours and his situations are not entirely similar. You’re not the one who’s in a relationship. It’s Jimin. And you don’t know why Jimin fell into bed with you. You don’t know why he wanted to do it with you, especially when Liya and you are the same person. You don’t know what’s happening between Liya and Jimin. What makes them, them. All you know is that what you and Jimin did was a little escape from reality. Something that you both probably wanted. Maybe he was stressed, and you know your life was miserable. Now it’s time to end that. So, you just give Taehyung a final nod. Hoping he will not take offense to what you said. Puff out a breath as you look out through the elevator doors.

You planned different ways to do this the entire time you spent on getting ready and coming here. You knew it’s going to hurt. Saying goodbyes always sucks. You don’t even want to think how hard it’ll hurt to say it to Jimin. You need to do that, however. Can’t cower after you already made it this far. You almost step out while pep talking yourself mentally when Taehyung suddenly groans. You halt your movements to look at him. He is clutching his forehead.

“Oh, fuck he is here again.” Annoyance bounces off from his voice. Lets his hand fall down. Clenches his teeth. “I hate to see that fucking—” Gasps. Eyes wide and turning to look at you with a horrified expression. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to uh…” Shakes his head violently. You furrow your brows in confusion. What on the earth is this man talking about? Why is he apologizing? “It’s just your father can be a teeny bit annoying sometimes.” Taehyung chuckles nervously. Your furrow deepens.

“What?”

“Your father.” Taehyung, yet aging holds his hand out to hold the elevator door. You turn away from him to check who he’s helping this time. You catch the sight of an old man in a pristine black suite walking toward the elevator. Talking with a woman next to him. Surrounded by too many people. “Mr. Kim, I mean- what I’m saying is that he is a good man but….” Taehyung keeps rumbling. Yet the words slowly start to fade away for you.

What now? Father? Mr. Kim?

A loud gasp leaves past your lips. Realization hitting you hard. Mr. Kim. As in Liya’s father. That man who’s currently walking toward you is that man. You watch in horror as he laughs aloud for something the woman said. His focus solely on the woman. You without even your knowledge have expected Liya’s parents to look like yours. But this man looks nothing like your father. No wonder that you didn’t know who he was when you first noticed him. That, however, doesn’t change the fact that you look exactly like his daughter. Liya. Not her twin since Mr. Kim has no two daughters. And he is about to face you. There’s no more than five feet between you. Taehyung is keeping the elevator on hold. When he finally notices you that’s going to blow your damn cover. He will address you as Liya and you’ll have to pretend to be her. That will put you in pain and everyone will panic. Taehyung will wonder why your own father can’t recognize you and there’ll be no way out of that. No explanations.

Fuck no!

Your body works in autopilot mode when you suddenly grab Taehyung’s arm. Whatever he’s been saying instantly dying on his tongue at your sudden movements. You yank him to your side at the same time you step behind him. Covering yourself by his broad figure right at the moment the old man finally turns his head forward.  

“What? What the hell are you doing?” Taehyung tries to step away and look at you. You hold on to his shirt.

“Oh, please. I can’t face him.”

“What? What are you—” His words get cut off when the party finally reaches the elevator.

“Taehyung.” You cover yourself more behind Taehyung as that deep voice addresses him. It’s a good thing that Taehyung is tall and broad. Yet you know it’s not enough to hide you completely from everyone’s eyes. You would have to do with this, however.

“M-Mr. Kim.” Taehyung nods at the man. Very uncomfortable as it’s clearly noticeable in his voice.

“You’re coming to work now?” Liya’s father questions again. You want him to leave soon. “No. I just had to left for some work.” Taehyung answers. Mr. Kim mumbles a quick okay in reply before he steps inside the elevator. Everybody else starts to fill in as well. Making Taehyung steps away to make space. Making you step with him to keep yourself covered. And luckily for you, he doesn’t try to walk away from you. Not even look at you. Just tries to exit the damn elevator while not turning his back to Kim. Walks backward facing people inside the elevator. Awkward. Weird. Still, it looks like he can pick up a sign. He may be the funny guy who does stupid things most of the time but can certainly be smart sometimes. You walk backward with him. Step out. Nearly sigh in relief.

“And who might be the lady hiding behind you?” Mr. Kim’s voice is laced with amusement. Of course, anyone can see you. You knew it. Just that you wished they wouldn’t question.

“Oh, uh- Seoyeon—” Okay, you take your earlier thoughts back. He’s definitely stupid. You pinch his back hard enough that he yelps. But recovers quickly. Laughs. “Not Seoyeon. That’s what I tried to say. Not Seoyeon at all. Why would she hide right? This is someone else—” You pinch his waist this time. “Actually, this is no one important. I’ll let you leave Mr. Kim. See you soon then. Yeah, bye!” Takes another step back. You take it with him. Then another and another until the elevator door closes. He waits few more seconds. As if to make sure everyone has left for real. Then like a thunder boom, turns around so fast that you flinch.

“What the fuck was that?” Both of you bellow at the same time.

“Why would you tell him I’m Seoyeon?” You’re the one who question first. Taehyung looks at you with an incredulous expression.

“Why the hell would you hide from your own farther?” Gestures at the now closed door. Well, you think that’s a more valid question than yours. Your shoulders slump as you smack your lips together.

“Uh- I guess Hoseok told you that I’m the family disgrace. It’s like... mm...” You shrug. “He really doesn’t like to see me.” Offer him a soft smile. Taehyung’s incredulous expression instantly morphs into a sympathetic one. Hoseok definitely has told them about that part.

“Yeah, shit, I’m sorry.” He mutters softly while roaming his eyes over your figure. Like he’s expecting you to break apart at any moment. Looks at you like you’re a stray kitten getting drenched in a storm.

“Yeah, life is hard.” You nod. Trying to mirror his sympathetic look. Not hard since you’re already in a somber mood.

“Yeah.” He nods too. “I’m really sorry Li. That must really suck, like him not being your biological father and then he’s only favoring one of you. That shit must be really hard. I can’t even imagine that.” Taehyung gives you a tight-lipped smile. Looks very genuine. Shakes his head. Yet, you almost don’t hear the last part. Eyes snapping to his face while your mouth falling opening.

“Wha—” The question nearly escapes your mouth before you catch your tongue.

“Huh?”

“N-nothing, I mean, yes. That sucks. Very.” You chuckles nervously. Taehyung pats your head. Turns around while you just blink at him.

What the hell?

Mr. Kim isn’t Liya’s biological father? Well, that explains a lot why he doesn’t look like your father. But how come you never knew that. How come nobody ever told you that. It’s not like people would tell you about your own family, but you’re surprised. More than surprised actually. Jimin should’ve told you. True, that you never really talked about Liya but still, you could’ve blown your cover stupidly. Guess, it’s a close call after all. You scrunch your eyes shut. Blow out a breath. Opening them back again to find Taehyung’s retrieving back.

It seems like it’s finally your time to get your business done. No matter how much you don’t want to do that. As in cue Taehyung turns around. Maybe he can read mind too.

“And Li? Just think about the resigning, we all love having you here.”

…………………….

Jimin feels like trapped inside his own skin. With no way out or enough air to breathe. He wants a way to escape this feeling. Yet he can’t find one. He is pacing around his office like a maniac. As how he always does. His phone is clutched tightly between his fingers as his eyes snap toward the screen every few seconds. There’s nothing. Every minute passes without his phone dinging without a notification from you intensifies his trapped feeling.

You haven’t replied to him. It’s been hours. He has sent you three more texts, and you’ve left him on read. And you never do that. Something discomforting settles inside Jimin. He knows he took far too long to contact you. He should’ve texted you way earlier. But he was so preoccupied with getting things sorted and under control. He didn’t even have time to eat a proper meal. Was doing his very best and everything to get rid of all the videos. To prevent it from landing in the hands of press. Keeping everything hidden and getting rid of the evidence. He had no time for anything else. Nobody did. Not Liya. Not his friends. Hell, Jimin and Liya didn’t even have time to fight like a normal couple would. Not that he’s complaining. But that’s the truth. He has sent you a text the very moment he was able to. And he doesn’t like how you’re ignoring him. It doesn’t make him mad. It makes him scared.

Scared because he knows he fucked up. Again. He failed you. Again. He abandoned you and made you seek refuge in someone else when he told you not to do so, just a minute ago before it happened. He’s a failure through and through. A coward. And now he’s afraid the consequences are about to get to him.

It’s simply Jimin didn’t even know what he was doing at that time. It all happened too fast for his liking. He doesn’t know if he had done the right thing. What’s the right thing anyway? What’s the winning side? In Jimin’s case there’s no winning side. He was bound to lose one way or the other. He doesn’t know what made him follow Liya. He doesn’t remember. Only thing he know is that this would’ve been so much more messed up, if he hadn’t.

Figure out your shit Jimin. There’s thousands of people on your hands.

Right? It’s not like he can make decisions for himself. His life is too cruel to be able to do so. If he has done the other way around, then this might’ve been the last day of him being in this office. His friends wouldn’t have looked at his face. His name would’ve been on paper. He would’ve lost everything he worked hard for. Everybody would’ve known how much of a loser he is. You would’ve known he was a fucking failure. That’s terrifying to even think. Now he has avoided all of those things, he should be feeling relieved and happy. The thing is, though, he feels nothing remotely close to relief. He has saved everyone. But at what cost? He thinks he has failed to save himself.

Funny. Because this wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. You were supposed to fuck and get done. You were supposed to be his stress reliver. And you were. You still are. Just not sexually wise though. This feeling he’s getting. The feeling of being trapped and not being able to breathe, it would go away when you’re here. You’ve become his escape. His air. And he’s terrified of losing it. Losing you. He genuinely doesn’t know what he should tell you. Doesn’t know how to explain. He feels ashamed to tell you the truth. The last thing he wants is for you to see him as the real loser he is. It’s always easy with you, yes. You always understand, yes. But what if you run away when you see the real him. He has seen the way you look at him. That admiration and adoration. You act like Jimin is God. Has heard that in your voice. What if he lost it. He’s too greedy to do that. Yet he can still apologize. Profoundly. He would kneel in front of you if that’s what it takes. For every fucking pain he caused.

Because you were in pain. He saw that in your eyes when your eyes met before you disappeared behind a door that day. You were broken. Because of him. Up until that moment, Jimin was feeling numb with all the emotions. Then as his eyes connected with you, it all had come crashing down to him. Everything. He can’t even remember when or who had dragged Liya away from him. All he could think about was the way he had let you go. How he had fucked up. How he shouldn’t have done that. How he shouldn’t have left you alone. Shouldn’t have let you go. All he could think about was making it right again. He had wanted to follow you. Run after you. Yank you away from Jungkook into his chest. Kiss every inch of your face and apologize over and over again. Until he’d lost his voice doing so. He was really at a breadth of a hair apart from risking everything when he had taken a step forward. Just to be pushed back by pair of hands. Jimin had felt furious to see Jin stopping him. He would’ve never listened to his older friend but then Taehyung had stepped forward too. Had stopped Jimin. And Jimin had witnessed that rare occasions where his best friend was mad. They had muttered a single line repeatedly.

“Not now Jimin-ah. You fucking can’t. Not now.”

That’s how Jimin had lost. Lost himself and you. Now all he want is to apologize. But you’re not replying. Maybe he should call you. If you don’t answer, he would definitely drive to Kim’s to meet you whether you like it or not. He unlocks his phone. Determined just to do that when his office doors are barged open. Jimin snaps his head toward it immediately. Face lightening up with hope. Only for it to fall when his eyes land on Taehyung.

“Oh, wow, you look really happy to see me.” Taehyung chuckles.

“Not in a mood Tae.” Jimin rolls his eyes before going back to unlocking his phone.

“Yeah? Then should I leave?” Taehyung asks in a mischievous enough voice that Jimin can’t help but eye him suspiciously. Taehyung smirks. “I’m just here to let you know that Li is here. I just met her.” And just like that Jimin is back to beaming with expectation. “Yeah?” Mumbles more to himself as he already walks toward the door without even knowing where he’s going. Taehyung stops him, however. “Yeah. And she’s about to resign.” Jimin halts mid-step. Just as he’s passing Taehyung. Making them stand shoulder to shoulder with his best friend. Facing two opposite directions.

“What?” Jimin whispers. The excitement he felt vanishes into thin air. He turns his head slightly to peer at Taehyung’s amber eyes. Taehyung just shrugs. “I asked her not do so but we both know that she has no other options in the end.” Jimin frowns at that.

“What do you mean, she has no the other options? Nothing happened─”

“Nothing happened?” Taehyung exclaims aloud. “Dude, she got slapped in front of hundreds of people. And you’re saying nothing happened?”

“That’s not what I meant. We got rid of everything before it can affect anyone. Affect her. Nobody in this building knows what happened. Even if they do, they don’t know it was Lil. She doesn’t have to resign because of that.” Jimin argues. Feeling lost. Looking his worst fears coming true. You’re about to go away again.

“Oh, c’mon Jimin. Even I- who sees no logic in anything- can see where she’s coming from. How can she work under us after that happened. After she got exposed like that. How could she face Liya again. Act like nothing happened. I would do the same if I was her.”  Taehyung shrugs yet again.

“Well, then maybe I can explain to her and make her see it. She doesn’t have to lose a good job because of me.” Jimin blinks at his best friend’s face. “I- uh- I’ll just talk to her. Where is she now?” He knows what Taehyung said was true. It’s annoying when his unserious best friend makes sense.

“At Hoseok’s, of course.” Taehyung’s eyes aren’t wavering. There’s an amusing sparkle in them. Makes Jimin uncomfortable. It’s like there’s something that Taehyung doesn’t tell him. Jimin wants to question it, but he needs to find you first. Jimin almost steps forward at Taehyung’s answer. Only to get interrupted when Taehyung speaks again. “What’s happening Jimin?” He turns around to face Jimin fully. Jimin just furrows his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you so worried about her leaving?”

“Because it’s not fair.”

Taehyung scoffs at that. “Not fair? Jimin, what’s not fair is her being here, being judged by people and getting slapped for the mistakes you both made. What’s not fair is she has no options. What are you even planning to do? Ask her to stay? Saying what? That you really can’t live without her pussy. That’s not what’s fair, Jimin. You gonna keep her here because you don’t want to lose the sex and she’d be the one to go through hell. That’s not what’s fucking fair.”

“Tha-that’s not.” Jimin is too stunned to speak at his best friend’s sudden outburst. Taehyung never does this.

“I mean, I’m not someone to judge people because I’m in no place to do so but Li, she looked like shit and I’m feeling really sorry towards her. Her father doesn’t like her. Her sister already hates her and now she might want to kill her. She lives with a stranger and she’s sick. Hoseok told me. And you gonna go after her and demand her to stay because she’s a good lay?”

“She’s not just a good lay.” Jimin steps forward. Clenching his teeth. He doesn’t like hearing someone talk about you that way. He doesn’t even know why. And he completely ignores Taehyung’s reasonings. Only if Taehyung knew.

“Then what? You love her?”

Like that Jimin freezes completely. Gaping at Taehyung. Opens his mouth just to close it back. No answer coming to his mouth. Resembles a fish. Chuckles. Breathless. Why is he so shocked? All he has to do is deny. Because that’s not the case after all. “No- Tae, of course not─” This is ridiculous. He sure doesn’t love you. Just cares about you beyond sex, that’s it. “I- I just care about her. Like- ugh- I don’t know man. It’s just that she’s a good person and I like her company. She’s not just a good lay. I feel free when I’m with her and- and she makes me do stupid reckless things I shouldn’t do, and I like that too. A little too much. I- I don’t know what I want exactly but I don’t want to cause any harm to her. I don’t want to lose her either.” Jimin doesn’t even realize that he’s rambling until Taehyung laughs. Shakes his head.

“Well, I don’t know what’s that makes of this situation. I obviously don’t know if that feeling is love Jimin because I haven’t been in love once in my life. But you have. So, I would take your word for it.” Steps toward Jimin. Pats his shoulder. Jimin feels weird. He’s been in love. Of course, he has. Right? He loved Liya once. This isn’t love because this isn’t how he felt. He’s safe. “And that’s good that you don’t like her in that kind of way. Because that’d just make everything complicated.” Sighs. Oh, Jimin hates when Taehyung is in a mood. Doesn’t suit him. “Still, though, it’s not fair that you’d just go after her and ask her to stay. If you really care, you should keep her far away from her sister. She doesn’t deserve that shit.”

Jimin no longer feels weird. He feels heavy. As if his heart is supporting fifty pounds. He knows it’s not fair. He knows the best thing is to let you go. But he can’t. No. God, he can’t. It hurts to even imagine that. “I- I don’t want to. I- Taehyung, you’ve not been listening to me. She makes me feel alive. I just don’t want to lose that.”

“Well, that’s so fucking selfish.”

“I know. I know I’m fucking selfish. Just can’t help it.”

“Then at least you need to give her a better explanation. You need to tell her why you’d have to keep her a fucking secret. I’m not talking about love or dating. You could’ve fucked her, or do any other shit with her freely, if it wasn’t for Liya. Then it’d not be an unfair situation to either of you. At least tell her why you can’t even give her that. This is fucking ridiculous. I don’t even know what you’re planning to do Jimin? What’s your fucking plan.” Taehyungs hand on Jimin’s shoulder tightens.

“I just need time. That’s all I want. I can make it right.” Jimin resigns. And Taehyungs features softens immediately as well. He steps back. Jimin may not know what he wants from you precisely. But he knows he need to put things on track. With his business and relationship. He can’t forever be an asset. He’s done being in debt. But this is not a game where he can press a button to change things. He needs time. That was exactly what he planned to do when he met you the other day. Baring gifts. It’s unfortunate how it has come to this. Still, though, he thinks he can try. And he needs you. Selfish? Hell, yes. Yet, he wants you.

Taehyung groans. “Oh, you selfish asshole.” Grumbles. “What can I do though. You’re my best fucking friend and you’ve done far worst shit for me. So, maybe let’s just see how we are going to fuck things up. We built things together so, it’s only fair if we fucked up things together too.” Throws his head up. Shoves his hands in his pockets. “Let’s be the partners in crime then. Like old times.” Looks back at Jimin expectantly. Jimin says nothing. Just a smile graces his lips. Taehyung always has been his partner in crime and Jimin is always grateful for him. “Then maybe you should go and do whatever you wish to do. I mean she’d obviously come visit you, but this would at least save Hobi the trouble.” Taehyung gestures at the door. Jimin gives him a nod. Yes, he’s going to do whatever he has to do. Taehyung nods in reply as well. “I really suck at this advising thing.” Mumbles as Jimin turns around.

……………………………………….

Jimin nearly makes it halfway toward Hoseok’s office when a sudden voice echoes behind him. A voice that is too familiar to him. A voice that he doesn’t want to hear right now. No. Not now. Yet it seems he has no other options as he hears the clanking sound of Liya’s heels against the marble floor. A sudden flash of irritation shoots across Jimin’s entire body. Liya has no business here. It’s so wrong for him to even get irritated. Yet it appears that he doesn’t care in the end. Jimin slowly turns around to face the approaching woman. A very fake smile is pasted on her face. Jimin doesn’t bother to reciprocate it. Liya doesn’t wish to see Jimin as much as he does. He knows it.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin asks straight away without any pleasantries. There’s no need to do that. Liya, however, just throws her hands around his neck. Catching him in surprise before pulling away. It’s a brief contact. But is enough to weird Jimin out.

“What? I can’t come visit my boyfriend?” Liya pouts. She never pouts. Not in this way, at least. Doesn’t suit her just like how it doesn’t suit Taehyung to be mad.

“Oh c’mon, Liya, cut the bullshit please. We definitely aren’t on terms as to where you’d visit me just to see me and hug me. Don’t act like nothing happened. It’s not okay.” Jimin frowns. For a moment, it looks like Liya is about to keep her pretense on. After a brief second, her face falls.

“Yeah, okay. Nothing’s fine. Of course, it isn’t. I mean you fucking cheated on me. How’s that fine?” Liya scoffs. Jimin winces at her voice. He might be as much of a jerk as Taehyung now, but that doesn’t mean he has no conscience. He feels guilty. He does. Simply wishes he could be a better man. To her. To you. And to himself. Too late now, however. “But that’s exactly why I’m here Jimin. We need to talk. Sit down and talk this out like adults.” Liya exhales loudly. Jimin bores into her eyes. He wants to laugh. There was a time when Jimin really wanted to talk. But they were busy. Liya was busy. She believed it was a waste of time to just argue when they’d end up with no solution anyway. Talking meant fighting to her. Then Jimin made sure he was busy too. It worked well until it didn’t.

“You want to talk?” Jimin thinks it’s too late for that talk now. Just asks for the sake of it. He owes Liya an apology after all.

“Yes. You don’t?”

“What are we gonna talk about? About why you’re forgiving me? Why you’re acting like nothing happened Liya?”

“I’m not acting like nothing happened Jimin. I’m just acting matured. We’re adults. People make mistakes and I’m willing to forgive you. But in order to do that, we need to talk and figure out why it happened.”

Oh, how badly Jimin wants to laugh. True, that they both didn’t have enough time to even fight let alone talk. But except for the part where she attacked you, Liya is acting unnecessarily calm. Jimin doesn’t think that’s being matured. No. Liya needs to lose her shit. She needs to cry. She needs to slap him too. She needs to threaten him with a breakup. She has the upper hand here. She needs to threaten him with her father. His business. It’s awfully suspicious in Jimin’s mind that she’s acting this way.

“What?” Liya questions again in his silence. “Look baby─” Jimin visibly winces at the term of endearment. There was a time where it made his stomach flutter. Then there was a time that it made him feel indifferent. And then in this moment, it makes him feel uneasy. Liya just continues, however. Completely ignoring the visible change in his features. See, odd. Very. “─I know there must be a reason for why it happens. I’m at fault too. I mean, we forgot to make it work. So, let’s consider this as a test. A test that check how well we can work this out. Let’s consider this as a reminder that our relationship needs some work. We can work it back Jimin.” Steps forward. Places a gentle hand on his upper arm. Jimin’s eyes fall to where she’s touching him for a second before he looks back at her face again. “It’s not late. We still have time. I really do love you that I can forgive you.” Smiles softly.

Liya doesn’t forgive. Just like his friends said, she’s a snake and she bites. In revenge. That’s who she is. This is really strange. And Jimin doesn’t think she loves him. No. Not anymore. This is a relationship in convenience. Still, he peers at her eyes. He loved those eyes once. He really did.

Is it really not too late?

Does he still love those eyes?

Does he─

The sudden sound of footsteps make Jimin’s eyes snap away from Liya. It’s completely unintentional how his eyes trail past her. Stopping on a new figure who rounded the corner just now. The intruder stops. Dead on the track. Big wide eyes are fixed on him.

You stand still, while your eyes are locked with him. The wind gets knocked out of Jimin’s lungs.

Oh, it’s late. Too fucking late.

Jimin feels a warmth engulf him fully. Then an ache surges through him. A longing. His heart clenches.

He doesn’t love those eyes, anymore.

Or he does. But those eyes, doesn’t belong to the same person anymore. He doesn't know what’s happening to him. Only thing he knows is the bittersweet feeling he is getting. All he knows is that he can’t wait another second. He doesn’t realize how much he wanted to see you until now. Until you’re in front of him. Finally. All he knows is that he’s not going to waste it this time.

It feels like a dream to Jimin when he steps to his side. When he starts walking past Liya. Maybe she calls to him but that falls into deaf ears.

You’re here and he needs to pull you into his arms immediately.

You stay still there. Eyes still wide. But this time you wander those eyes away from him. You look past him. Then back to him. He knows you’re looking at Liya. He has no idea what’s going on in your head but nothing’s going to happen again. No one’s going to lay a finger on you. Except him. He stops before you. Takes a good look at your pretty face. You look tired. Eyes puffy. Breaks his heart into tiny pieces. Makes him want to take all the pain away from you.

It’s going to be okay.

Stretches his arms to grab you. To pull you into his embrace.

You recoil like spring. And all his senses comes back to him. Like you’ve slapped him. Makes Jimin’s eyes go wide for a moment before he frowns in confusion. A deep ache tugs at his heart. A moment passes in silence before you suddenly speak.

“I am resigning Mr. Park. Thank you for allowing me to work here. It’s been a pleasure.” You bow deep to him.

Mr. Park?

You can’t be already resigned. Even if you have, that’s okay. He can make sure you’ve got any job inside this building. He doesn't give a single fuck about what people say. He must be losing his mind. “Lil? What are you─”

“I have already resigned. I came to say thank you. So, thank you Mr. Park.” You mumble once again with a bow. And before he can say or do anything you turn around. Start walking away.

No. No. No.

Jimin watches in horror as you walk away for a minute. Just like the day in club. His poor brain is taking its sweet time processing things. And he does exactly feel the way he did that day. Watching you walk away.

No. Not this time.

He’s not an idiot to make the same mistake twice. Jimin practically breaks into a run at the same time you disappear through the corner. It doesn’t take him more than a second to reach you. To grab your arm. Yanks you back and turns around to face him. You scowl at him. Your eyes look furious.

“You’re not walking away. We need to talk.” Jimin’s voice sounds foreign even to him. It’s barely audible through the roar in his ear. Over his own heartbeat.

“Talk what Jimin.” You hiss. A panicked expression crosses through your face as you quickly glance behind him. “Let me go please.”

“No. Not until we talk.”

“You can’t do this for fucks sake. There are people here and─”

“And what? I don’t care. I want to apologize for─”

“Keep your damn apologies to yourself Park. I don’t fucking care.” You try your best to step away from him. Jimin feels like he’s travelled through time. There was a time where you and he used to fight like angry cats. Just the same way. He’d try to stop you while you’re trying to get away. But you passed those days, right? He really hates to go through that again. “I don’t want to be your little secret anymore. You need to let me go.” Your words cut through him painfully. So damn painful that it almost annoys him.

“Well, you agreed to be that Lil. I already told you that you’re going to be stuck with me if you ever agreed to be mine. You can’t just walk away.” Jimin tightens his grip so that you wouldn’t be able run away.

“I did. But that’s way before we got─” You clench your teeth. Lower your voice to low hiss. “─caught. Before I saw how your girlfriend loves you. Before I realized I’m the only one who’s going to get the blame in the end. Get humiliated. I don’t want that again Jimin. I deserve fucking better than that. I deserve better than standing alone in a corridor and getting slapped. I know you did the right thing. And there’s no hard feelings. I don’t hate you or anything like that. I just want to end this shit. I’m tired.” You blabber in one breath. Heave for air once you’re done. Everything you say makes sense to Jimin. But at the same time, it doesn’t. All he needs is one chance to apologize.

“Lil...” Your name leaves Jimin’s lips in a desperate sigh. “I- I know. I- I just, let’s please─”

“I’m leaving.” You state sternly. Oh, it hurts. You don’t even want to listen to him. It hurts like a bitch as Jimin allows his hand to fall limp. He wishes to say something more. Beg more. He’s ready to kneel right now and right here. But before he could, you turn around. Before he could, he feels Liya’s presence next to him. Before he could, you storm away. Not a single glance. Not a single word. Just like that, you run away. You don’t want to be his dirty little secret anymore. And he needs to respect that. You don’t want to do anything with him anymore. He needs to respect that decision. You deserve way better. Of course, you do. Then why can’t he make up his mind to do that.

No.

It hurts.

No, he won’t just let you go.

Not this time. He’s going to go through whatever it takes. He’s going to make you stay.

…………………………..

Jungkook tries to stuff his face while ignoring the heated glare his best friend is throwing at him. Fails. No one can ignore J. Especially Jungkook. J raps his knuckles on the table. Starts speaking even though Jungkook doesn’t look at her. “Why weren’t you in the class today?” She interrogates, irritated. Jungkook refuses to look at her still.

“Because I didn’t feel like it. It’s boring.” Answers through a mouthful.

“Bullshit!” J yells. Makes Jungkook glance at her. But it’s Namjoon who calls her out. “Oh, c’mon. How old are you? You can’t handle being alone in a one class.” He peeks through his laptop. Rolls his eyes before looking pointedly at Jungkook. “I mean it’s not okay you’re skipping classes but still…” Gives J an odd look.

“Yes, I can’t handle it. I want my best friend for emotional support.” J crosses her arms across her chest. Pouts. Namjoon tries to argue again when J starts again. “Besides, he is fucking lying. You didn’t attend today because you didn’t want to leave Li alone.” Points out. Oh, how Jungkook hates his best friend’s observation skills. It’s almost annoying how much she knows about him. He tries to deny the accusation when J points a finger at him. “Don’t. Even. Try. To deny you little shit. I know you. You’re so fucking fixated on her. I mean like first you lied to all of us and then—”

“I didn’t lie to anyone.” Jungkook gives up on trying to eat.

“Well, yeah but you didn’t tell us anything either and you helped her?” J’s face turns into a furious expression. “You knew she was cheating, and you fucking helped her Jeon?”

“I did not fucking help her J. I just didn’t uh-do anything about it because it’s not my place.”

“Silence makes you an accomplice.” Namjoon chimes in again. It’s Jungkook’s time to glare at him. “What? Just saying.” He mumbles before going back to typing furiously on his keypad.

“Exactly!” J chimes. Jungkook groans. Rubs a hand over his face. “So, what do you suggest I should’ve done? Tie her up to fucking chair and keep her inside the apartment? Bribe her with candy? Take her to a church and teach her about the hell?” Throws his hands in the air. Luckily, it seems that it works. J sighs.

“Okay, let’s put that aside. But you still kept it a secret from us.” Nudges Namjoon for assistance, which she doesn’t receive.

“I couldn’t just do that. She is my friend.”

“Oh? Now you’re replacing me? You found a new friend?” J opens her mouth in disbelief. “Us” Namjoon butts in again. Without taking his eyes away from the screen.

“C’mon, Joonie, you’re not fucking helping here. And are you fucking crazy? What are you even talking about J? I said, ‘a friend’. Not damn best friend. It’s you who’s replacing me. You’re the one who don’t even reply to my texts anymore. You’re the one who’s following Jin around like a lost puppy.” It’s not that Jungkook is really mad. He just wants to take the winning hand. “It’s always, Jin that, Jin this.” He mimics her voice. J gasps.

“This is so damn childish. I don’t even know why I’m friend with kids.” Namjoon glanced between his two younger, very immature friends. J slams her palm on the table.

“That’s not the same thing. It’s entirely different. Jin is not a friend. I like him.”

“That’s exactly─ wait, what?” Jungkook’s eyes go instantly wide. “Come again.” Even Namjoon closes his laptop down. Fast. Paying full attention to the conversation for the first time.

“What?” J looks between them confusedly. “I like Jin. Why are you so surprised? Like isn’t it obvious?”

“Hold on, rewind please.” Namjoon turns to face J fully. “I mean yeah, it was obvious, but did you just admit it like that?” Questions.

“Are you dating?” Jungkook adds. Turning the restaurant into a temporary interrogation room in second.

“Does Jin know you like him?”

“Does he like you too?”

“Has he asked you out?”

“You know that we’d break his bones if he tried anything funny─”

“Okay, that’s it.” J bangs the table with both of her palms this time. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Glares at Jungkook and Namjoon as they both shrug.

“Nothing, just two concerned friends.” Namjoon answers on their behalf. Jungkook just nods, feeling grateful for the distraction of the topic. “I mean, J, our sassy ass friend, is admitting she likes a guy for the first time. Isn’t that concerning.” Namjoon further points out while Jungkook just keep nodding in agreement. J rolls her eyes.

“That’s not true. I’ve liked someone once before.” Argues. “Exactly! Look where it got you.” Namjoon exclaims. And Jungkook agrees. “He broke your heart even before you properly even started liking him. So, of course, we’re very concerned right here J,J. You don’t even know Jin properly and you admit you like him.” Namjoon levels J with a pointed look.

“Oh, I know him enough to like him. I mean what’s there not to like about Kim Seokjin.” J huffs. Starts putting her fingers down in count. “He’s so damn fucking handsome. He’s good. Kind. Funny. And of course, is rich. Is a good kisser. You might not want to know this, but he has an impressive dick─” Both Namjoon and Jungkook gags at the same time, but J pays them little to no attention. “─ and knows how to use it. Knows how to use his tongue and lips too─”

“That’s enough. I might have to bleach my ears now.” Namjoon grimaces. “And he’s too old for you.” Adds. J opens her mouth to retort when Jungkook fails to keep his mouth shut. “Yes, and he isn’t funny. He makes weird ass jokes and laughs like a squeaky windshield wiper.” He blurts out before he can process it. Is a very wrong move apparently. J’s eyes snap to him immediately. Burning with fire.

“He. Is. Not. Jeon. He’s funny and good. You two has nothing to worry about. If anything, who we should be worried about is you.” Shoots Jungkook a tight-lipped smile. “Because, just like me, Joen Jungkook, you’re always talking about Li. Noona this, Noona that. Just like me, you’re always following her around like a lost puppy. You even ditched your best friend today to be there for her. Then that’s very concerning unless you… like… her.” Ends her rambling with wide eyes. Dragging the last three words unnecessarily. As if it just makes sense to herself as well. “Holy shit, do you like Li, man?” Questions.

“What?” Jungkook chuckles nervously. Is ready to deny but something twists inside him. Why would he even deny it anymore? So, just closes his mouth back. Namjoon’s jaw drops to the floor.

“You too? What the fuck is happening?” Mutters.

“This is not good.” J mutters as well, glancing at Namjoon and sharing a knowing look. Makes Jungkook irritated. “What’s not good? What’s the problem here?” He scowls at his two friends.

“Dude, she has been having a secret relationship with a practically married man.” J’s expression turns into a genuinely concerned one. Jungkook doesn’t like it a little bit.

“No. That wasn’t technically a relationship. She was just having sex with a man, and she knew it was wrong and was feeling fucking guilty. And now she is about to make things right.” That’s what you told him and Jungkook couldn’t be happier. Not just because it’s the best for you. But because it leaves you all to him. Selfish, yes. But still, he’s buzzing with excitement.

“But what if it wasn’t just sex and she likes Jimin?” Namjoon shares J’s concerned look now. Jungkook doesn’t know how to answer that. What would he do if that’s the case. Hell, even the thought makes his heart clench in a painful way.

“And what if she breaks your heart?” J asks again. For that, he has an answer now. “I’m okay with that. She’s worth it.” So, Jungkook mumbles slowly when both of his friends sigh heavily. Jungkook doesn’t look at them. Feels weird. Painful. But he means his every word. And maybe he won’t care if you like Jimin either. He’d still fight and still like you until he’s tired and can’t do it anymore. He has no idea since when he started to feel this strongly toward you. Maybe it was from the first day he saw you. There’s a reason why he didn’t realize J- his best damn friend is falling for someone. A reason for that to slip from his sharp, observant eyes. That’s because he was so immersed in you. Even when he thought you were Liya. He was enamored by you. All he saw was you. Funny. But that’s how it is.

“This is absolutely not good.” Namjoon leans back in his chair. J mirrors his actions. “Not good at all.” Agrees with Namjoon.

“Oh, c’mon…. There’s nothing to be so dramatic about.” Jungkook shrugs them off. Gets to his feet. “This shit is cold now, thanks to you two idiots.” Gathers his food in his hands. Feels a bit heavy but guess it would pass away. Almost turns around to leave when J stops him.

“You know, I really don’t like her. What she did was such a bitchy thing. Especially as a woman, I want to slap her too. But, if she’s trying to do the right thing, and she’s feeling guilty… I hope I can find a way to forgive her.” Turns her head to look at Jungkook. “Besides, I’m team Kook always. I mean Jimin is a douchebag, and he deserves four slaps, but nobody delivered that. Such a shame. So, I’m gonna help my best friend to win the woman. If you need help killing Park Jimin, let me know buddy. You know I love you.” Nods very seriously that Jungkook snorts.

“Me too. I mean, not the killing part. Murder is illegal.” Namjoon sits back straight. Jungkook and J give him an annoyed look. “What? Just saying.”

“Oh, we didn’t know.” J bellows sarcastically as Jungkook finally steps away.

………………………………..

“Let’s go out please.” Jungkook whines as you ignore him completely. You don’t want to do anything except rot here. Sitting in Kim’s kitchen and sipping free beer and eating unhealthy amounts of chips. “C’mon, Noona.” Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder.

“I’m not in a mood Kookie. You guys should go.” You expectantly glance over at Jungkook’s friends. J and Namjoon. Yoona would be here any minute as well. You were surprised to see J and Namjoon treating you indifferently. You expected them to hate you. Maybe everyone’s favorite color in this world is morally gray. No one knows how to filter good from bad. Not that you’re complaining, though. You don’t want to lose any more friends in addition to Park Jimin. The very reason why you’re not in a mood to go out. Or to do anything else either.

It had hurt deeply. The moment you spat those words at him. The look in his eyes. It all had hurt. You had really wanted a heartfelt goodbye. Yes, you did. You wanted to clear the air and part ways on good terms. Because despite everything, you don’t hate Park Jimin. No. Absolutely not. In short, it’s quite the opposite. You still adore him. But when your eyes landed on Jimin and Liya together in the hallway something had spewed inside you. Something uncomfortable and painful. You hadn’t planned to walk away from Jimin that way. Now, though, it feels like the best option you had. Even though it pains you.

“What’s fun in that?” J chews on her bubblegum with extra force. Her look is pointed and sharp. Maybe they are not being indifferent. Maybe they are watching you closely until they find a moment to kill you.

“Right?” Jungkook raises his head immediately. “That’s no fun. We need you.”

“You need her. I’m completely fine.” Namjoon chimes in. J nudges him with her elbow. “Don’t be rude, Joonie.”

“I’m not being rude. I’m just─”

“Saying. Yes, we know.” Jungkook completes Namjoon’s sentence. Turns his attention back to you. “Please, Noona. I’ll buy you the biggest ice cream tub I can find. Or- or- loads of chocolates─”

“Jungkook…” You sigh, turning your head to peer at his doe eyes. “I’m really not in the mood to go out. Let’s just stay this way for tonight. I promise you I’ll go out with you every day if you let me stay in tonight.” Jungkook audibly and adorably whines. Says something else about how cruel this world is when all of your attention drifted away from him to the sound of restaurant door opening in distance.

“That must be Yoona.” Namjoon forms a dimpled smile. Visibly excited. You find it disgustingly sweet. Cute. Only if you could have that one day. An involuntary smile graces your lips at the sight. You all look expectantly at the swing door. Hoping Yoona will appear now. But then you hear voices before the door opens. Multiple voices.

“I swear to god Hobi…”

That’s definitely a male voice, and you heard the name Hobi for sure. You look at Jungkook confusedly when the door finally slams open.

“What’s up, motherfuckers!” Taehyung yells through the top of his lungs the moment he appears on the doorway. Very businessman- unlike. “We party hard tonight.” Adds a loud yoo-hoo at the end. Walks inside when Hoseok appears next.

“I swear, Joon, I have nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, yeah? You were the one who called me and said Namjoon is giving away free beer─” Yoongi straightly walks toward the fridge when Hoseok runs after him. Pressing his hand over Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi’s muffled voice comes behind Hoseok’s palms. “Nothing. He means, I called him and said nothing about Namjoon. Yeah.” Hoseok chuckled nervously. Namjoon gapes at the duo. Confused. Your attention alters from the chaos to J when she squeals in happiness when Jin walks in.  

“Oh, God, you should’ve told me. I would’ve dressed nicely then.” She whines as Yoona shoves both Jin and J away so she can enter the kitchen. You’re positive that Jin said something horribly cheesy but cute to J, just as Namjoon engulfs his woman in a warm hug too. See, adorable. Nice. Even, you forget your miserable life problems. Or you almost did. Only for a fractured second when another figure enters. Stands in the doorway. It takes your barely functioning brain a second to register who he is.

Park Jimin!

Wait, what?

Your eyes widen.

What the hell is he doing here?

Your stomach drops. A strange sensation washing over you. Your breath hitches as Jimin looks directly at you. Eyes burning into yours. Not even wavering. As if he came here just to do that. Find you. Stare into your eyes. And you find it’s impossible to tear your gaze away. Too stunned and surprised to do that.

Jimin can’t be here.

Your trance breaks when you feel a sudden movement next to you. You catch from the corner of your eyes as Jungkook jumps into his feet before you snap your head toward him. Startled this time.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jungkook’s voice comes out as a growl. You watch with wide eyes at the sharp line of his jaw and how tightly he’s clenching his teeth. His question is clearly directed at Jimin. Jimin doesn’t even try to answer, however. Or he just doesn’t get a chance to do that when Jungkook is already walking past you. Rounding the table to reach Jimin. Looks like he would straightly land a punch on the other guy’s face. You stumble to your feet in panic when Taehyung beats you to it. His arm wraps around Jungkook’s chest.

“Woah, woah, easy big boy. Don’t do that now. We are friends and I wanted to get a drink because the last time we left things ugly. Don’t start it again.” He pacify Jungkook in an uneasily calmed voice. Jungkook, on the other hand, looks feral. His eyes snap to Taehyung.

“Friends?” Questions while trying to shrug Taehyung’s arm off.

“Don’t do that please Jungkook. No need to fight here. We’re all cool. And yes, we are friends dude. You declared- not even confessed but declared- your love to me back at the cottage. Is this your way of breaking up with me?” Taehyung widens his eyes first then scrunches up his face in feigned pain. In a different context, you know, Jungkook would’ve played along with Taehyung. They’d even start to cry. This moment, though, Jungkook’s mood isn’t lifting an inch despite hundreds of jokes everyone would say to him. You almost become convinced that Jungkook won’t give up at all when Namjoon walks over to him.

“Hey, it’s fine Kook. You can’t avoid them forever. Hobi is my friend and now everyone is everyone’s friends, and you know…” Namjoon looks Jungkook in the eye. You guess you saw him gesturing at J with his eyes. Just for a moment. Then after a long minute, Jungkook sighs. Takes a step back and walks to you again. An arm sneaking around your shoulders protectively.

And you quite certainly witness the way Jimin’s jaw tightens. And that familiar fire breaks inside his eyes.

…………………………………

Night settles into a fairly normal one if not fun. All seated around the kitchen table. Conversation and beer flowing around. Paired with occasional laughter or shouting. Other than that, night feels dull. Despite the best effort Taehyung put out with the help of Hoseok. For the most part, part of the table is keeping quiet. That part includes you, Jungkook, and undoubtedly Jimin. He’s been staring at you for the past hour or so. You’ve been avoiding his eyes. You feel tense. Hard to breathe. Want nothing but to be alone. Your idiotic friends don’t allow you, however. You wish this night would end soon.

“Right Li? That’d be fun, right?” Taehyung asks you again. He’s been asking you so many questions. Is sitting next to Jimin. Almost makes you suspicious that he’s trying to make you talk with Jimin.

“Huh?” You quip distractedly. Having no idea what he’s talking about.

“A summer camp? Right Jimin? You want Li to come, right?” Asks from Jimin. Jimin’s eyes glint as he searches for something in your eyes. Oh, God it hurts be in his presence. Hurt to look at his eyes. Hurt to see that glint. You need to leave.

“Hell, yeah. You can come up with good ideas once in a while Tae, Tae. I’m impressed.” J perks up before you can say anything else. And you’re glad. Jungkook scoffs from next to you. Earning himself a glare from J as Taehyung’s face falls. As if he doesn’t want anyone else answering him other than you.

“Of course, I’m smart J,J. It’s not my fault it took you so long to realize that. Ask Jin Hyung, I’m the master mind behind everything.” Answers, nonetheless. Face proud and smug. Jin snorts so loud that it startles J slightly.

“Oh, yes. He is. Someone pass me another beer please.” Jin taps Namjoon’s arm. Everyone burst into laughter. Even the silent party makes soft sounds of chuckles. Taehyung gasps. Offended. No one pays him any attention.

“No, but seriously. That’s such a good idea. It’s going to be fun. I know a place we can go near this river. What do you guys say?” J practically vibrates in her chair. You wish you could share the enthusiasm.

“It’s a stupid idea. We can use our time for something better.” Jungkook states. He looks fine now. Not clenching his jaw so tight nor scowling deep like an owl. J shoots another glare at him. “Yeah, like what?” Raises her brow.

“I don’t know. Something that─”

“Oh, c’mon, you little shit, you love camping.” J throws a napkin at Jungkook. “What’s up with you? Killing the mood like a grumpy grandad.” Complaints. Jungkook tries to retort but a second voice booms across before he could.

“Or you can simply choose not to come. No one’s forcing you, you know Jungkook. You can stay and use your precious time to do anything you want.” Jimin’s eyes are boring holes in Jungkook’s skull. So, are Jungkook’s. You feel mixture of emotions engulf you. Irritation. Annoyance. Anger. Pain. Longing. And much more.

“What did you say?” Jungkook questions in a stony voice. Calmed but anyone can notice the underlying storm.

“Okay.” Taehyung palms his face. Takes a moment then pulls a bright but very forced smile. “What he’s saying is anyone can do anything. You know, this is a free country.” Shrugs. Yet, Jimin and Jungkook keeps glaring at each other. Oh, fuck. In addition to being painful, this shit is exhausting as well. You sigh deeply. Uncomfortable silence falls over the table. Until Yoongi breaks it. With something completely unrelated but the way everyone relaxes tell you how glad they are.

“We don’t have any more beer?” Yoongi shakes an empty beer can. “Are you sure?” Looks at Namjoon. Namjoon gives him a strange look. Almost like he’s ready to slap Yoongi.

“Yes. I am sure. You don’t get beer that you won’t pay for.”  Namjoon looks at everyone.

“So, you do have more. Where? Where are you hiding my precious alcohol?” Yoongi gets to his feet. Just to be yanked back into his chair by an extremely aggravated Namjoon. “Nope. No. You’re not making my parents’ business go bankrupt. No. More. Free. Beer.” He holds Yoongi onto his chair by his shoulders. Hoseok is the one who whines in complaint.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a cheap─”

“Shut the fuck up, Hobi or I’ll shove a beer can down your throat.” Namjoon shouts as Hoseok instantly shuts his mouth.

“Your boyfriend is so violent Yoona. You need to do something about it.” Yoongi shrugs Namjoon’s hands off his shoulders. Yoona just rolls her eyes.

“Uh-huh.” Just nods while keeping her eye on her phone. She had said something about having to keep a close eye on some art piece earlier. You think it’s cool she works as an art broker. Namjoon says something else to Yoongi when the sudden sound of restaurant door chime erupts for a second time. Entire place falls into a curious silence.

“Is Seoyeon or Liya joining us?” Someone questions. And you catch a faint glimpse of Taehyung and Jimin shaking their heads at the same time. Then the silence abruptly gets broken by a loud gasp Namjoon lets out.

“Holy fuck, if that’s my mom and if she finds out you little pricks have been emptying her fridge, oh, she’s gonna have a heart attack and─”

“I’ll go talk to her. I mean I’ll distract her and tell her everything’s fine. I’ll ask her to go back.” You ramble before you can stop yourself. Get to your feet even faster. All you want is an opportunity to leave. Even for a moment. It’s too tiring for you. So, you are going to use this as a perfect chance to distract yourself. Leave this torturing place. Namjoon blinks at your face. Surprised. You offer him a tight-lipped smile as you walk around the table. Jungkook protests when you glare at him. You’re not a kid and all you want is a moment to be alone. Away from everyone. Away from Jimin. From his beautiful eyes.

“Don’t worry, she likes me.” You pat Namjoon’s shoulder as you exit the kitchen. Feeling relieved the moment the swing door closes behind you.

……………………………

It turns out it’s not Mrs. Kim. It’s just the newly hired boy who has left his headphones at the restaurant by accident. He has come back to take them. And you just allow him. You’re supposed to go back inside the kitchen the moment the boy vanishes again. You don’t, however. You had hoped it would really be Namjoon’s mom, and you’d get a chance to leave with her. It’s okay to be with her since she knows nothing about your miserable life or situation. Now, though, when you don’t have such a chance, you at least need a moment to catch your breath.

So, you sink into a chair at the empty restaurant. Sighing heavily. Not so faint chitter chatter and laughter of your friends drifting into the area. It’s not quiet. Yet is still better than the stuffed kitchen. It’s good to be alone. Liberating. You feel like you can breathe, finally. You place your arms on the table. Prop your head on your palms. Letting the cool air inside the building soothe your aching heart. It doesn't work. But you’ll keep trying. And you’ll stay here one more minute. Just one more.

“Lil?”

You nearly fall down from the chair at the unexpected voice. You haven’t even sensed a new presence, let alone the sound of footsteps or the door opening. You whip your head in the direction where the voice came. Just to find Jimin standing there. You suck in a sharp breath, stumbling into your feet.

No.

Hell, no!

You ran away earlier because you wanted to avoid him. This isn’t that. And maybe you should take this chance. To say the goodbye that you oh so badly wanted. To leave- whatever fucked up ship- you had on a good note. Just like you wanted. But after all, you don’t think it’d be easy. True it had hurt more since you had nearly yelled at Jimin before you left. But how can you be sure it’d hurt less if you do it in a civil manner. Besides what are you going to say. Everything you said before but in a calmer tone. No. That won’t hurt any less. It’d still hurt like a bitch and Jimin would still look at you with those eyes. Pain slashing across them. Like you’re tearing his world apart and you in the end undoubtedly will fold. Give up. You’ll fall under his spell once again. You don’t want that. When you said to him that you deserve better, you’ve meant it. You want to be free of this situation before it inevitably get more complicated. You’ll deal with the regret and pain later. What you should do is run away. Again. Immediately.

You round the table without uttering a single word. Almost walk past him when his voice reaches you. “Lil, please.” You think he has stopped you by touching you. But no, it’s just you have stopped by yourself. Against your better judgment. Maybe it’s the desperation in his voice. He sounds pleading. Helpless. That shatters your heart irreparably. “Please. Just listen to me. That’s all I-I w- want.” His voice cracks and the pain you feel intensifies. What’s the fucking wrong with you? Why does it fucking hurt so much?

“I don’t think you have anything else to say Jimin.” You bite down on the inside of your cheeks to prevent from breaking into a cry.

“You don’t know that.” Jimin stalks toward you. You don’t bother looking at him. Not because you don’t want to. But because it’d break you.

“Oh, for fucks sake Jimin. You need to end this game. We need to end this game.” You have no idea what Jimin is doing. Why is he seeking an opportunity so desperately to talk with you. What’s he even going to tell you. Apologize? For what? This is such a fucked-up situation. You really can’t blame him when you knew what you were getting yourself into. You can’t blame him for following Liya because that’s what he should do. Then why is he going to apologize? There’s no reason.

“I am not playing games.” Jimin sounds stern now. Voice rough. An invitation for you to just turn your head a bit to look at him. You refuse to give in.

“Well, then that’s good. If you’re going to apologize, there’s no need to Jimin. You’ve done nothing wrong. We both did our fair share of misdeeds and now it needs to end. So, let’s just end this here.” You manage to croak. Throat dry suddenly. A familiar lump forming there. You don’t want to cry. You need to leave.

Now.

You turn around just after you finish your sentence. Take two more steps. That’s all you manage before you feel pair of hands circling around you. Your back suddenly collides with a hard chest. You freeze. Too stunned to move. Eyes wide. For a minute before it hits you. Jimin is hugging you tightly. His arms are like protective armors around your body. And oh, how good he feels.

No. No. No

This is what you’ve been so afraid of. Alarm rings in your head as you panic. This is how you fucked up every time. How weak can you be? You try to step away from his embrace when he tightens his grip. Even places his chin on your shoulder. You could’ve been annoyed at the action if it wasn’t for his shaking voice caressing your ear. “Oh god, baby please. Please don’t do this. I know I’m fucking wrong. I know I fucked up again. You deserve the best. You don’t deserve to go through these shits with me. But just give me one chance. Please Lil.” His lips graze over your neck as he tilts his head slightly. A shiver runs through your spine. Your guard is starting to crumble.

God, you need to end this.

“A chance for what Jimin.” You sound exasperated. Tired. Resigned. “What are we even doing? What are you going to do? Why would you want me anyway?” You fail to hold your tears. They roll down your cheeks gracefully. Soothing the sting in your eyes. It’s Jimin who freezes this time. Well, you asked valid questions.

“I-uh-I─”

“See, you don’t even have answers. What are you going to tell me? Are you going to ask me to pretend everything’s fine again? I’m done doing that shit Jimin. It isn’t worth all the risk and the shit we’re going through. Surely, you don’t want me. You can have any woman you want. You can have Liya if you want. You clearly don’t have a reason for wanting me. You don’t want me.” Tangled sobs erupt through your throat as you completely give up trying to free yourself.

“But I do want you.” Jimin mumbles. Almost like a whisper that you nearly don’t catch it. But you do. Your breath catches and heart skips a beat. What does he mean? “I want you so badly. And no, not just to fuck. I just want you.”

“But why?”

“Because you make me feel alive.” This time his voice is perfectly audible. Raised and confident. “I don’t know what I’m feeling Lil. All I know is that I don’t want to lose you. Just don’t do that. Don’t say we need to end things. Sue me for being the biggest asshole in every universe─” Jimin exhales a shaky breath. You can feel him trembling. Oh, why? Why? Why? Why’s he so affected? Why are you so affected? “─but baby please.” He places a gentle kiss on your neck. Soft and sensual. You inhale air shakily. “It’s hard without you. I-I don’t know w-why but I feel so trapped. Gosh I didn’t even know how much I was suffering until you came. You’re just like a quiet magic, and I don’t want to lose that magic.”’

Holy fuck!

What’s happening?

He feels that way too?

He feels trapped and hurt. He feels like you’re his air. Isn’t that exactly how you feel as well. What’s going on? What’s wrong with you two? Well, there were always something wrong with you both and just because you accepted that hasn’t brought you somewhere nice. Look at you. All miserable and crying. You shouldn’t give in. Is hard not to do so when Jimin’s breath is hitting your neck. Hard to do so when he lands another kiss. Then another and another. Keeps his lips on your pulse point. Making your knees weak. You still refuse to give in, however.

“Then what the fuck are we going to do? You keep want to cheat with me?” You force yourself to open your mouth. “You keep want to be the assholes? And for what? What’s going to happen when my time expires? What’s going to happen when I’m no longer here, hm? Then what Jimin?” You bite on your lower lip so hard to control your sobs. If you cry hard your friends would definitely hear you and you don’t want them to find you in this position.

“I told you. I promised you I’m going to turn the world upside down if you still decide to stay after this year. I’m going to do that Lil. I mean it.”

A strained laugh leaves past your dry lips. “As if you would let me go.” A similar sound leaves Jimin’s mouth as well.

“Yeah. I’d never let you go. I plan on making you want to stay.”

“I already want- at least I wanted to stay.”

“Don’t change your mind then. I promise we- I will find a way.”

“And keep going? Keep being your dirty little secret?”

Jimin sighs heavily. “No. I have a plan.” Mumbles. You say nothing. Are bit intrigued. “I just need time. Look, I know we’re complicated and all, but I’ll make sure you get what you deserve. I just need time.” Jimin squeezes you in his hold.

“Time to do what Jimin?” You curiously ask, trying to take a look at his face. He doesn’t allow you to turn your head. Presses his lips further into your sensitive skin.

“To sort everything out.”

To sort everything out?

That doesn’t make sense to you. “What do you mean sort everything out? A-are you planning on br-breaking up with….” You can’t bring yourself to complete the question. Words taste bitter on your tongue. Feels so wrong. A beat of silence passes.

“Yes.” Jimin finally breaks that silence. His answer is clear, but you can hear the guilt in his voice. “And that’s not because of you. No. It’s because that relationship was already over long before you. It isn’t working. I was just reluctant to see it because I was fucking worried of this perfect image. Can’t do it anymore, I need to end that stress. Like you’ve told Taehyung, if we’re not in love we shouldn’t just waste each other’s time. That’s not fair. On me or on her.”  

Oh, you didn’t think Taehyung and Jimin might be sharing that kind of information as well. It seems like they do. And what Jimin says makes sense. Perfectly. You’re really glad that you are not the reason either. It would suck so bad. Selfish, yes. But is good, nonetheless. He, however, hasn’t answered everything yet. You have questions. “Then why do you need time? Why dragging it up?” You weakly voice out your concerns. Feel how he tenses. Weird.

“Uh- it’s you know, not that easy. It’s comp─”

“Complicated. Yes, you’ve said so once and I accepted it without questioning.” A deep sigh leaves Jimin. “I know. I just need time Lil. Can you trust me? Just give me some time.” He takes a second. “Please.” Adds.

Can you just do that. Of course, you can. You believe he has good reasons. Still, though, something is gnawing at your insides. You might not know what’s his so-called complicated reasons are but the fact that he can’t trust you to tell them makes you annoyed. Like he said himself, you deserve better. If you are to put yourself in this mess back again. Until Jimin would sort things out and God knows how long that’d be, you’ll be always left in the dark. You know you’re the secret, but you deserve a little better if not the best. You bring your palms to wipe down your tears.

“Well, then we should wait until you do so Jimin.”

“What?” Jimin pulls away from you fast. Turns you around even faster. “What do you mean?” Search for answers in your eyes.

“We should just go like this until you figure things out.”

“No. Lil. You- I don’t even know how long it’d take, and I don’t think I can go that lon─”

“Then at least you should explain to me the reasons. Why does it take so much time. I need to know why I’m putting myself in such a low position. I want to know if it’s a good reason. If you don’t want to, then I’ll wait till it’s over.” You manage to say it out without wavering your voice. Stern and precise. Jimin keeps staring at your face. It’s only now you notice the redness in his eyes. Glistening. Dark circles under them. Was he crying too? Probably not. Not like you did anyway. But the signs are there.

Why?

You expect Jimin to argue. Try to persuade you. But he surprises you. “Fine. You need an explanation. I’ll give it to you. It’s nothing really, I just- I don’t know, guess I’m embarrassed.” Your heart softens immediately. You open your mouth to say that he doesn’t have to be like that when he doesn’t let you. “Not now though, I guess Jungkook would come searching for you any minute now. Taehyung had to physically restrain him from following me.” A soft laugh escapes you at the mental image that creates in your head. “So, let’s talk baby, hm?” Jimin suggests. A small smile creeping on his godly face. You take a minute. Long one. You shouldn’t do this. Not again. But this time it’s different, right? It is. You hope it is. All you do is nod your head once. That small smile on Jimin’s face cracks into a huge grin. You can’t help but reciprocate it.

“Thank you.” He mumbles. Cups your face. You wait for his lips to press against yours. It doesn’t come. Instead, he presses his lips against your forehead. A tingle runs through your entire body. Tummy fluttering. “Thank you.” Mumbles again.

And you feel all those pains vanish away.

Oh, no this is not good. No matter how hard you try, you always end up back in Jimin’s web. It hasn’t even been two days. But here you are. Back in his arms. You’re failing to keep your control. You’re losing it. This is not good at all.

And your greed, little thing, is about to consume you whole.

You know this path is directed toward your destruction. You’re putting away all the morals. You’re willing to take this risk. Why?

You thought you finally made a decision. To stay away. You thought you’d never turn around. No matter how hard it hurts. How fascinating Jimin is to be able to turn it around. Just few words and you’re swooning. How?

What’s happening to you?

You tilt your head upward to look him in the eyes. Those brown orbs. Still glistening. Speaking thousands of words he isn’t saying with his mouth. Mesmerizing. And you find answers to your questions. It’s like lightning struck right on your head. You think you understand what’s happening. Now and then. Back at the club when everything went down. Yoongi was right. Of course, he was. You were acting stupidly that day. Were mad like a hornet. All because you were jealous. Because it hurt you to see him with Liya. You were seeing red from jealousy. And you were feeling the same this morning as well. When you found Liya and Jimin together. Again. Ridiculous. But that’s what happened. And there’s only one reason that would justify your actions.

Oh, no.

You’re falling for Park Jimin.

That’s what is happening to you. You’ve been falling for Park Jimin ever since the day you woke up next to him. And ever since then, you’ve let yourself keep falling. Now you’re near the very bottom. There’d be no way up. But what can you do, though. It’s already started. You’re falling for him. For Park Jimin.

Falling deep and down.  

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a/n- Leave a note if you enjoyed this one!

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Taglist - @chimmy-licious @graydolan12 @smoljimjim @likemeforme @sugas-baby-girl @canarystwin @jkayy @floboo6 @sunshinenmidnight @fiddlebiddls @unlikelycheesecakeenthusiast @mar-lo-pap @angelicsmilesworld @jimincrystal @datspjm @shakes0peare @butterymin @angellekookie @futuristicenemychaos @minijagiya @anumita-2007 @joulekanitz @llallaaa

[cowboyjen68]

Hello Jen, wishing you a happy year ahead thank you for still being around. Its been a rather tough time so i wanted to ask how do you deal with heartbreak? recently my long distance partner broke up with me, I'm trying to come to terms with everything that happened and now I'm devastated *besides missing them of course* that I'll never a partner again, being a lesbian in my country is already a taboo and i dont know when/if ill be able to leave so those feelings of loneliness and hurt are even stronger. It was thanks to this partner as well I managed to stand up for myself and accept I'm a lesbian, I think thats what I'm mourning the most now

Thank you and sorry for the bother, stay safe and healthy I wish you well and all the best in life

The good news is you will become proud and content as a lesbian with or without any partner. It can take time and work but you can get there. Your sexuality is not contingent on the affirmation of anyone else. Only yourself.

I can't imagine what it is like to be in a country where your sexuality endangers you both socially and due to the laws or traditions. I mean, i came out to a USA that was pretty hostile but I had the support of friends and family to some extent. I was free to protest and have conversations with the opposing side which is more that many countries allow lesbians to do.

The ending of a long distance relationship has its unique challenges, especially if you never met in person. The time that was filled with texts or video chat seems very odd and quiet leaving you checking your phone or computer out of shear habit. You were available to each other 24/7 as opposed to relationships in the same physical area where you met up and had mostly set times to date or spend time. Texting was a side bar to set up dates and only one mode of communication and not the sole contact. It will feel strange as you reset your schedule to be all yours with no need to look for and respond the a partner. It some ways lonely and in some ways freeing.

Getting over any relationship that was meaningful just takes time and work. My advice is to be sad and let yourself feel all the emotions from anger to angst but don't let it go on and on just because you are not sure what is next. Start to list things you don't miss about her. Make notes as you move through your day about things you are now free to think about and change in your life, in the direction of your life.

Don't date right away. Don't even try. Use your time and energy to pursue existing friendships or relationships with relatives or people you have not spoken to in a while. Write letters.

Rest assured that feeling that overwhelming sensation that your relationship was your one and only shot at love a shared Lesbian experience. Lesbian isolation and loneliness is a very real feeling but the reality is it is not true. You have a while life and and whole world of women to meet WHEN you are ready. You will be okay but in the meantime it is nature to hurt and second guess and worry.

As an older lesbian with break up experience in my life I can tell you it gets easier, you heal and love will come again.

[thecaffeinatedwitch]

How to Use the Law of Assumption to Overcome Self-Doubt

Self-doubt is that annoying little voice in your head that whispers, “You’re not good enough” or “What if you fail?” It’s sneaky, persistent, and downright exhausting. But here’s the good news: the Law of Assumption can help you silence that voice and step into a version of yourself that’s confident, capable, and unstoppable.

Let’s explore how the Law of Assumption can be your secret weapon for overcoming self-doubt and transforming your inner narrative.

How to Use the Law of Assumption to Overcome Self-Doubt

Self-doubt is that annoying little voice in your head that whispers, “You’re not good enough” or “What if you fail?” It’s sneaky, persistent, and downright exhausting. But here’s the good news: the Law of Assumption can help you silence that voice and step into a version of yourself that’s confident, capable, and unstoppable.

Let’s explore how the Law of Assumption can be your secret weapon for overcoming self-doubt and transforming your inner narrative.

What Is Self-Doubt, Really?

Self-doubt isn’t a reflection of your abilities; it’s a reflection of your assumptions about yourself. When you assume failure, inadequacy, or rejection, your mind starts searching for evidence to support those beliefs. It’s like having a hyper-vigilant detective in your brain—except this one is only looking for reasons to keep you small.

The key to overcoming self-doubt isn’t to fight it head-on. Instead, use the Law of Assumption to rewrite the story entirely.

Step 1: Assume You Are Already Confident

Here’s the thing: confidence isn’t something you find; it’s something you create. The Law of Assumption teaches that you can bypass your current reality and step directly into the version of yourself you want to be.

Action:

Close your eyes and imagine how it feels to be completely confident.

Visualize yourself walking into a room with your head held high, speaking clearly, and feeling at ease.

Assume that this version of you already exists—it’s not a “someday” thing; it’s a “now” thing.

Step 2: Use Affirmations to Shift Your Inner Dialogue

Your self-doubt thrives on negative self-talk. To counteract it, use affirmations to plant new assumptions in your mind. Even if you don’t believe them at first, repetition will make them stick.

Examples of Affirmations:

“I am capable of handling any challenge.”

“I trust myself to make the right decisions.”

“I am worthy of success and happiness.”

Repeat these affirmations daily—while brushing your teeth, driving, or even during that awkward moment waiting for your coffee. The more you affirm, the more your mind starts to accept these new assumptions as truth.

Step 3: Act As If

This step is where the magic happens. Start acting as if you’re already the confident, self-assured person you want to be. It might feel a little weird at first, but that’s okay. The goal is to align your actions with your new assumptions.

Action Tips:

Speak up in meetings, even if you’re nervous.

Say “yes” to opportunities you’d normally shy away from.

Dress in a way that makes you feel powerful and put-together.

Each small action reinforces your assumption of confidence, and over time, those actions become second nature.

Step 4: Dismiss Negative Evidence

Self-doubt loves to point out “evidence” of your shortcomings. Maybe you made a mistake at work or stumbled over your words in a conversation. Instead of spiraling, remind yourself that one misstep doesn’t define you.

Reframe the Situation:

Instead of thinking, “I messed up, so I’m not good enough,” assume, “I’m human, and this is part of my growth.”

Shift your focus to what you’ve learned and how you’ll do better next time.

Step 5: Stay Persistent

Overcoming self-doubt isn’t a one-and-done deal. It’s a process that requires persistence and patience. The Law of Assumption works best when you consistently align your thoughts, feelings, and actions with your desired reality.

Pro Tip: Treat self-doubt like background noise. It might still be there, but you don’t have to give it your full attention. Keep focusing on your new assumptions, and eventually, that noise will fade into the distance.

The Law of Assumption is a powerful tool for transforming self-doubt into self-confidence. By assuming you’re already the person you want to be, using affirmations, and taking aligned action, you can rewire your mind to support your growth instead of holding you back.

So, the next time self-doubt tries to creep in, remember this: you’re not at the mercy of your old assumptions. You have the power to rewrite them, starting right now. Assume the best about yourself—and watch as your reality shifts to match.

You’ve got this. -yours truly, thecaffeinatedwitch

[trashogram]

A CharliexAlastor shipper say to me you only ship Angel Dust with Charlie because you think Angel Dust is hot. Like bitch I can said the same thing about Alastor.

Tbh why would that be an issue even if you did?

I really don’t understand why so many fandoms have this mentality that you can only like something if it’s “for the right reasons”. 1.) The “right” reasons are constantly in flux and vary depending on the community and 2.) you don’t need to have a meaningful or morally correct reason for having fun to begin with.

Personally, I realized years ago that I often ship things based on either how interesting the pairing is and how many scenarios and ideas I can get out of it, if I’m attracted to one or both (or all if it’s more than two) characters and/or I’m projecting/processing real life struggles and relationships through a ship. It doesn’t have to be struggles that are 1:1 with the fictional pairing I’m using, but there can be similarities there.

There does not need to be a reason behind why you ship something, and if there is — ESPECIALLY if it’s related to personal trauma or negative life experiences — you don’t owe anyone an explanation for why you ship it. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

[i-love-ptv]

Stacy’s Mom Has Got It Goin’ On ˚̣̣ ᵕ̣̣̣̣̣̣

Pairing: Husband!Rafe Cameron x Soccer-mom!Wife!Reader

It’s not easy being a soccer-mom, especially when dads hit on you at every game as if you’re not married to Rafe.

Wc: 1,596

Fluff, Protective Rafe making an appearance, kinda pushy guy (idk what to say)

An: I’ve really wanted to write a fic based on this song, and this idea randomly popped into my head so! Am I using the names I wanna name my kids? Yes, yes I am.

Not proofread tbh

Feedback always appreciated lovelies!! xx

“I’ll be back, ‘mkay doll?”

You hum in acknowledgement, eyes peering back at the field after looking up.

Your husband, Rafe, leant down and places a firm kiss on your forehead.

“Yeahhh, Daddy’s gonna be back, baby.” Rafe coos at your two year old, who was sitting on your lap, babbling freely while peering at him with her big doe eyes.

Rafe walks off the bleachers in search of the concession stand to buy food for the three of you.

You brush your hand over your young daughter’s head, making sure her somewhat oversized hat is still covering her head entirely. Her hand wraps around your index finger.

It was oddly humid today, if you continued moving, you’d break a slight sweat. You can't even imagine what your daughter—Stacy must be feeling, running around on the large grassy field under the beaming bright sun.

You were proud of your baby girl though, nonetheless. And so was Rafe, of course.

You shout loudly when you notice the game is about to start, bellowing out a “Go Stacy!”

Stacy’s eyes easily found yours, for you and Rafe would always sit in the same spot on the bleachers.

Her eyes were slightly wide due to your shout, despite you and Rafe always cheering for her during her games.

She’s motioning for you to ‘shh’, putting her fingers to her lips before getting into her position.

“Which one’s yours?” You hear to the left of you, the unknown voice makes you tear your eyes away from the field.

You smile shortly at the unfamiliar man next to you, “Number 22.”

You can’t help but notice how he’s rather scruffy looking, an odd contrast to your upkept husband with his neatly buzzed hair.

“Mine’s number 13.” He says, flashing his teeth at you.

You gasp and shoot up a little, making you look down at your daughter on your lap. “Valerie’s yours? Oh she’s just the sweetest!”

The man chuckles, looking deeply in your eyes. This makes your eyebrows raise, slightly in confusion, but mostly in discomfort.

He hadn’t done anything out of the norm, you’d randomly talk to the other moms around too, but something about him made you uncomfortable.

“My name's Brandon, and yours?”

You introduce yourself briefly, before turning back towards the game.

His eyes dart to your left hand, looking for a ring, for any indication that you belong to someone else. He smiles sharply when he finds your fingers bare. This goes unnoticed by you.

Little does he know, you do have your ring on, just around your neck.

Your biggest fear was your youngest accidentally pulling off your ring, resulting in you losing it. Or, even worse: it pokes her eye or something of that nature.

You suppose you could be considered a ‘Helicopter-mom’ at times, simply going to the extremes to make sure your kids are happy and healthy at every point in time.

Rafe is the exact same way, maybe even a little worse. But you knew he was just protective, he loves this life that he has with you, since he had no idea the two of you would’ve been together for so long.

You had started dating Rafe when you were 18 and he was 19. It was good for the first few months, disregarding the few arguments that you had. But then, you had caught Rafe doing cocaine.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to shake the look on his face from your memory.

You weren’t supposed to be at the party, you said you were busy filling out college applications.

So when he was mid-line, and he saw you standing there all dolled up, watching him with glossy eyes, he felt his heart shatter into pieces.

You weren’t supposed to find out, he wanted to keep this away from you, to keep you close to him.

He promised that he would try and stay sober for you, but eventually he’d give in every time the opportunity was in front of him. This resulted in several arguments, and surprisingly, a break up.

But things are different now. You both are in your 30’s, you got married, and of course, had two beautiful babies together.

Rafe knew he’d be crazy to fuck things up now, when he has the perfect life right in front of him.

Speaking of which; you’re really starting to wonder what the hell is taking him so long just to get some goddamn hotdogs and drinks.

You’re bouncing your knee anxiously, which makes your daughter giggle. You wish she wasn’t finding this amusing, but you know she can’t help it.

“Well who’s this cute girl, huh?” The man coos, tickling your daughter’s side.

“Her name is Noelle.” You huff, your mood quickly shifting due to this stranger touching your daughter.

He lets out another chuckle, you wish you never had to hear it again. “Sounds like you’re quoting Teenage Dirtbag to me.”

You give him a pointed look, you’re really getting sick of his pestering. “That’s where I got it from.”

Abruptly, the crowd starts cheering madly. You look around and see Stacy's team celebrating briefly; they had just scored a goal.

You cheer and clap, grabbing Noelle’s chubby hands and making her raise her arms wildly while giggling with her.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could-” Before Brandon could finish his sentence, none other than Rafe Cameron comes stomping up the bleachers, huffing and puffing angrily.

He sits down and sighs, “God, I’m sorry babe. The line was so long! I swear I’m going grey right now.”

“And I missed the goddamn play!” Rafe exclaims. He looks over at you and immediately goes quiet once he sees those wide baby eyes that look at him curiously.

“Da?” Noelle mutters, reaching her tiny hands towards Rafe’s larger ones.

“Yeah. Da’s here babygirl, do you want your food? Huh sweet girl?”

Rafe hands you your food, setting his food aside so he can put Noelle in his lap. He begins to split half his hotdog in pieces for her.

You glance to the left, you notice Brandon looking like a fish out of water.

Rafe is the CEO of one of, if not the biggest business company around. And Brandon had just borderline harassed his wife, who was holding his child.

Brandon sneers at the two of you in silence while the game continues, nearly boiling at the fact that he couldn’t have you.

Your head is laying on Rafe’s shoulders, you’re rubbing circles on Noelle’s shoulder as she settles down.

“Everything alright babe?” Rafe asks, trying to peer down at your face.

You untuck your necklace with your wedding ring from your shirt, fiddling with it. “Yeah, now that you’re here Ray.”

There’s silence between the two of you for a few seconds.

“…What does that mean?”

You hesitate to answer, but you do regardless, “Nothing! It’s just uh..That guy next to me, was kinda like hassling me I guess.”

This makes Rafe straighten his back.

“He do somethin’ to you doll?” Rafe questions in a whisper. You know you have about 30 seconds to try and calm him down before he’s banned from every soccer game left in the season.

“No, okay? I’m fine, it’s cool. I need you to calm down Ray.”

Rafe’s nose is flaring, “What about Ellie? Did he touch her?”

You feel your throat closing up, your heart is damn near pounding out of your chest.

You don’t say anything to Rafe, but that look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know.

You grab his bicep, trying to keep him grounded. Even though he’s changed, some parts of him haven’t.

Rafe speaks lowly in your ear, but not too much to frighten you in any way. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Don’t worry y’pretty little head about it.”

Rafe presses a firm kiss against your cheek, then presses a softer one to your lips.

After 30 more minutes, and 2 more goals, Stacy’s team wins.

You and Rafe cheer loudly, letting out “That’s our baby girl!”

You meet Stacy at the bottom of the bleachers, holding Noelle in your hand as the littlest claps her hands between Stacy’s face.

You’re too busy congratulating your daughter to notice Rafe pulling Brandon aside while his daughter, Valerie is off talking to her friends.

Rafe puts a firm hand on his shoulder, “Hey man.”

Brandon lets out a nervous laugh, “Hey there, Rafe Cameron, right?”

“Yeah, let’s keep this short. I better not see or hear you talking to my wife again, do you hear me? I don’t give a shit what happened.”

Rafe continues shortly, “And keep your fucking hands to yourself, if I find out you touched my either of my daughters again, I swear to God himself I’ll put you under.”

The two men are holding eye contact, one looks with confidence and borderline rage, while the other looks with fear.

Rafe walks down the bleachers, meeting you and your girls.

“You were amazing out there sweetheart!” Rafe smiles while pulling Stacy into a bear hug.

“Jesus dad, you’re crushing me!” Stacy laughs with a slight wheeze.

Rafe ruffles her hair and puts his arm around your neck.

“All good to go?”

You nod your head, and with that, the four of you begin to walk to Rafe’s parked car.

Rafe realizes that this isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on at a soccer game, or anywhere in fact. And this definitely won’t be the last.

Cause everybody’s in love with Stacy’s mom.

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Imagine this

I've been reading some of this good fics about Yandere Batfam x neglected Reader and it got me thinking.

In some of this fic, usually it's Alfred that has given the reader some love and have not neglected the poor thing and I was like,

What if Reader is still neglected by the batfam but Alfred gave them enough love so much that reader just decided to stay just for Alfred and Reader really just treated Alfred as their real Father or Grandfather.

Where Reader just let go of any expectation from getting attention from the others and just strive to make Alfred proud and happy.

How the turns have table

Imagine reader walking pass the others not bothering to greet them as they look for Alfred instead and other stuff.

Dick seeing them practically skipping as they clutch on a medal hanging on their neck.

"Woah hey!-...um whatcha got-". He tries to say but doesn't get any answers because you were busy muttering to yourself 'I got first place! I have to show this to Alfred!' as you giggle while looking down at the medal and sprint away when you see a glimpse of the butler at the distance.

How instead of begging for the others to train you and become a vigilante, you ask Alfred to train you for self-defense (especially the stuff from his spy days).

Jason was the first to arrive at the manor when the team heard about some intruders getting in but halted when he sees you tying up the unconscious thugs on the floor.

"Hey Alfred is this right?". You didn't pay them any mind when some of them pile in as you pay attention to Alfred who was praising you and giving you more good defense tips while you and him pull the unconscious people out.

How you spend healthy family time with Alfred by helping him in cooking and chores that earns you some knowledge of the recipes from his famous dishes.

Tim was trying to grab a coffee when he sees you having a fun time with Alfred as you skillfully prepare for dinner and actually have good laughs with him.

"Okay, then after I fold this I should add some paprika, right?". You ask the butler as he smiles at you while sipping on the tea that you made for him.

"Yes, you're correct once again young miss/master". He said while humming after drinking the tea indicating how good it is.

Tim can practically see you lighting up as you cheered a 'yes!' from Alfred's confirmation.

How you revolved your time and passion to Alfred and actually deciding that only Alfred is the one you should waste your time on.

Damian wonders around the manor when you and him bump into one another.

"And what are YOU doing walking around MY Father's manor?". He asks while glaring at you.

you just sigh and turn while clutching away the art supplies you bought so you can paint in the garden with Alfred.

"Walking away from you that's what I'm doing". you tell him as you turn the other way not even bothering to argue with the boy anymore.

How you do well in your studies and aim to get a good degree/phd and act like a proper man/lady but not because you want to keep up to being a Wayne but to see Alfred's proud face as he watches you stand on the stage as you show him your diploma/degree certificate.

Bruce decided to take a walk from sitting down for too long when he walk pass a framed picture on the hallway near Alfred's room and double takes when he sees you and Alfred standing together with while you were wearing a toga and cap holding not just any graduation certificate but a college one as the both of you look so happy and him seeing Alfred having that loving and well pleased expression something he rarely sees from Alfred after becoming the crusading dark knight.

Looking at the date he couldn't believe that it has been more that a few years since the graduation happened.

All of the family who used to ignore you suddenly took a different turn and started to try and get your attention but they fail to see that you already moved on from them and only cared about the one person that have literally loved you from the beginning.

Bonus:

Imagine Thomas and Martha Wayne was mysteriously revived for a day and met the family but was deeply disappointed to the others and took a special liking to reader because Alfred has said many good things about them and them especially getting many good degrees something that the rest haven't gotten yet or never bothered to get (this is my hot take because my family are hellbent on us cousins to finish school) and you know for a fact that Alfred is really REALLY proud of the kid that he raised preciously

[wonryllis]

watermelon sugar (m) | sim jaeyun.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?

preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.

or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.

meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader

genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, SMUT MDNI!!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessions?, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.

word count. 13,488 unedited! it's word vomit.

warnings. fingering, dry humping, dirty talkkk lots and lots of it, nasty freak jake with innocent(seems to be) girlie, experienced x inexperienced(virgin but has idea), pussy slapping, somewhat drunk sex but there's consent consent, oral (m rec.) different scenes, p in v (unprotected! but pls pls pls do not do this ever use protection!!!!!) multiple orgasms (f.rec), overstimuation(f.rec) and somewhat (m.rec), spitting? slight nipple play, jake is rough and filthy, with heavyyyyy corruption kink it's all throughout the story, strength kink, size difference “i worship the ground you walk on” energy but still dominant jake, jake has soooo many dirty inner thoughts about you it's innumerable. he's a simp for you so you're a slut for him— i guess that's them?

theme song. animals by maroon 5 (jake pov), into you by ariana grande (yn pov)

﹙★﹚ ࣪DRABBLES (find them here)

` author notes. im sorry for making you guys wait three extra weeks I hope y'all still want to read this,, what do i say it was so horrible before the revamp, thankfully it's so much better now and the smut god, it was so hard to write it i hope it's good enough. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!!

“i don’t mind this feeling.”

YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT, WHATEVER IS HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU BOTH, BUT YOU LIKE IT. IT FEELS SILLY AND FRAGILE AND GOOD. perhaps a little too good.

god forbid what you had done in your past life to get a roommate like jake, a complete package; a concoction of all classic kinds of roommate one could possibly expect. you aren’t complaining though he takes care of you in every way he possibly could. making you feel like his entire world revolves around you, from his time home to the hours he spends on the field. one would ask anything of him and his answer would surely include you in one way or another, everyone knew it, everyone could see it, the way he feels.

he makes you breakfast, he helps with the cleaning- you both actually have it planned to have a cleaning day every week to polish the apartment. he cooks for you and he does the dishes more often than not, the only exception being the time when you insist deathly on doing it yourself because come on you gotta do at least some thing around the house.

to add to the perfect mixture of god gifted man, he video games in his room with the door shut so that the sound of him shouting at the screen doesn’t disturb you. does the laundry- even your bras and underwear, he’s just too used to those clothings to give a care to get embarrassed (outwardly). he would never admit the way they get him all hot and bothered when he thinks of all the places those fabrics have touched. how wild his imagination runs and all the things he wishes he could do to you. all the sounds he could get, out of you and all the things you'd taste of.

you are his candy (well not exactly ‘his’ but according to him this nickname of yours is only and I repeat only reserved for him) literally because you are all over sweets all the damn time and figureratively because he’d die to have a taste of you; the forbidden fruit of his life, too innocent for a person like him to ruin. but lord would he give up everything to land a chance to lay his hands on you not so innocently.

this man does not give a fuck about who is not you, and maybe occasionally spare a care for his two best friends who so far have only been blessed enough to know your name because jake has made it clear that you're off-limits and if they ever dare to do anything given the opportunity he'd rip off their balls and feed it to ducks (he's serious he swears)

getting to the real point of your dynamic: the only drawback— jake sim is a renowned fuckboy on campus, the heartbreak prince and you, his miss americana as they all like to call it. it is a daily routine, having to find a new girl in the house and ofttimes hearing them even with your door closed and your hands pressed on your ears. at first it felt disgusting, then you got used to it, and now very recently you’ve been feeling weirdly dejected. a certain kind of hatred towards the girls, something you can’t pin point exactly to why and what it is.

“candy, my laptop broke down again!” jake's raspy voice dances through the little cracks of the bathroom door as you prepare for a quick shower. you sigh, tightening the towel wrapped around you before stepping out. a short knock at his batman poster door left ajar, and he's whipping his head to have a look at you as if he knew you'd be in the middle of washing up. a little secret, yes he knew because everytime ahead of bathtime you make sure to have a sip of your watermelon slush stack from the fridge and the sound of it's door reaches his room just right to let him know.

he remains seated on his bed, a sheepish smile on his face. your eyes fall at his desk to see his laptop closed, he tricked you, and like always you fell for it,“maybe if you used your school laptop to study instead of playing games on it, this wouldn't happen all the time. but i assume you probably did it to get me here, it’s not gonna work everytime yun,” you click your tongue in feigned annoyance making him grin wider,“well it does work everytime though,” he knows how to have you on his tail just like you know how to have him wrapped around your finger. it only seems fair, you both know what gets the other going and you use it to your advantage.

“what is it?” asking in a sing song tone, you plop down on his desk chair. spinning in rounds with your legs out swinging, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair while looking up at the phosphorescent glow-in-the-dark stickers you had forcefully put up on the ceiling of his room. a funny memory of jake trying to stop you because it would defeat the whole image of his room only to fold when you gave him the puppy doe eyes, baby talking that you really wanted to do it. it doesn't take much to have jake cave in, just one look from you and the boy is a flatline. fuckboy? he is that to everyone but to you he's practically whatever you want him to be, though you have never really had a talk about it.

“actually eunsang, she-” there is a hesitation is his tone you are well aware of, having almost a clear idea of what he's about to say,“i told- no warned you not to get involved with her for a second time, didn’t i?” you scold, feeling that little twinge of hurt knowing he probably will keep on being involved with girls like this no matter what you say. it's the one thing where you don't have him under your spell. or that's you think, i mean you you have no idea do you of how much he wants you. just like how you have no idea how much you want him.

“yes but it happened and now she’s after me all the time, she even showed up to my soccer practice yesterday! please just this one time, please help me get rid of her,” clamping together his hands in a plea, jake pouts as best as he can, giving you his puppy eyes. but when you don’t show a reaction of any sort he resorts to the next best guaranteed thing: bribery,“i’ll buy you tons of watermelon lollipops! from your favorite brand that too!” eyes sparkling with hope and expections of having you fall for it, like you do every single time, he waits. albeit patterns break, in everything and everyone.

“no, i’m on a diet. i gave up on sweets, what if i get diabetes? will you,” you point at him dramatically,“take responsibility?” to which his stance morphs into one of stunned. he would gladly take responsibility for you at any given chance, but it's one of more gravity and significance than diabetes. and he's sure he's not one you should be in care of as more than anything that you are right now. he's too corrupted and you are too naive.

“yes of course i’ll help you take your meds and-” he mumbles in a quick, hurried note aware that you’ll not let him answer if he’s not fast enough. you still beat him to it though, speaking loud over and above his voice, to drown out his words despite hearing them quite clearly,“will you? NO you will not! so let me just shower peacefully before i get the urge to lock you in the bathroom when you’re in there later,” with a silence after, one that has jake grinning again at your cuteness, you take it as a que to rush out swiftly. trying to make it to the bathroom before he decides to use his strength against you and hold you down wherever he wants. which though hasn't been often, has always left you breathless and flustered to a point you refuse to admit.

training to become an athlete, a buff center forward in comparison to you who barely puts effort into doing even a little bit of yoga once a month. it’s obvious he’ll have you give in if he wants but he’s too sweet to force you. and of course it's obvious, the tension of the strength kink that looms over in the room.

it comes as a shock to you when the next day, the first thing you see waking up in the morning and walking into the living room: is eunsang standing by the kitchen counter. and important point: clad in one of jake’s dress shirts that you recognize from doing his laundry occasionally, pouring herself a glass of water. oh you had to see this coming, this is jake we're talking about will be really ever like ever not bring over girls? no matter if they're clingy or not. the answer is ambiguous and definitely not to your favor.

she’s shares a small smile upon noticing you, a friendly smile which you know is obviously fake. she’s doing it just to look good and polite in jake’s eyes. just to show that she's not bothered by you, because as said everyone knows if they don't like you then they automatically are on jake sim's blacklist. and being the star player of the team, his acquaintance is more or less influential to a large extent, so note to be taken be nice to candy to not be on the cross out list.

however as sad as it is to say it’s of no use. she’s not even there in his eyes to begin with. the moment the jake comes out of his room, his field of vision doesn’t include her. passing by her very visible figure like she’s a microscopic bug to ruffle your hair in a dotting manner, his morning voice coming out in an adoring essence,“good morning, candy,” he smiles and scrunches up his nose when he notices the baby cat you both adopted last month, curled up in the corner of the couch,“and mei,” he acknowledges your pet kitty but not the girl he brought home, that should speak volumes to you, jake thinks. treating you like candy of his world you are, shouldn't that be the ultimate giveaway of his feelings? like even his hookups can see how down bad he is for you why is it that you're the only one who can't? he wants you to know but at the same time he feels he's not right for you, a dilemma he handles by fucking up over and over again.

wishing him morning in response you give him a look which silently delivers your question of what is going on. you did hear them last night (more like her), but you didn’t know it was her her. you weren’t even expecting her to be the one. after the conversation with jake yesterday, she was the last person you would have ever assumed. he sends you a flying look that he’ll explain everything later, shushing you off before you speak out loud.

“yunie,” your ears perk up at her voice, eyes narrowing in a deadly stare at the nickname you exclusively call him with, leaving her crusty mouth. certainly, like jake you blossom a definite possession over names too. perhaps it's the effect of living with him 24/7 but you seem to have picked up a lot of his antics.

jake’s eyes shift to look at you for a moment and then he’s running a hand through his hair, dropping his sweet conduct to get back into his usual cold fuckboy self. he absolutely does not like the way your brows turn down and the pretty smile you were previously adorning for him falling off your pretty lips. he can tolerate anything but seeing you bothered in any way. “you’re still here? it's better if you leave soon, candy doesn’t like all this,” walking around her to the other side of the counter and into the kitchen to open the upper cabinets, jake ignores her like a plague as if he wasn't showing her heaven last night. but alas, nothing comes above you, she should have known that.

“what do you want for breakfast candy? should i make you some toast? or do you want your usual dose of sugar?” his palms rest on the granite countertop, leaning against it slightly while turning to fix his gaze on you. it makes eunsang rage with anger, throwing you a demeaning look before she disappears into jake's room.

the moment his bedroom door closes, you feel the unfamiliar weight on your shoulders relax a tad bit,“my watermelon slush please,” finding your cozy spot on the kitchen counter, you give him your most adorable pout feeling like you had to gain back his warmth after the hookup. your legs dangle over the height between, toes softly brushing against jake's calves every two seconds. watching him prepare your drink, you decide to voice out the thing that had been disturbing since the moment you walked out your room,”did you like make a friends with benefit kind of arrangement or something?” it comes out in a low whisper, afraid if you said it too loud it'd come true. the thought of it disturbs you for some reason, it’s not new for you to see random girls in your apartment; or to hear them while they’re at it. yet it still gives you a sort of uneasy feeling, something you do not like feeling.

“it was a last time kind of deal actually,” he stops briefly to give you a quilty smile. finishing your sweet slushy just as eunsang hastily steps out, wearing what you assume her clothes from the previous night. she slows down to observe as jake hands you the cup, repulsively watching you take a sip,“is it good?” hearing him speak in a tone way different than the one she’s acquainted with him using with her has stomp her way out in a grumpy fit.

looking up from the edge of your cup with hopes to give her a sly stare, your eyes follow her figure, flinching silently when she bangs the door close harshly,“bitch,” you comment, hooded orbs shifting back to jake who scowls in disapproval,”language candy,” he reminds, knowing very well it does nothing to stop you.

“sorry yunie but she's so agressive, and for what?” you whine.

“from what i’ve seen, you’re way more aggressive,” jake laughs softly, index finger coming to poke at your cheek tenderly.

with full cheeks, you grin like a cheshire cat and jake feels his heart rate speeding up, who gave you the permission to be the cutest person he's ever known? the urge to kiss you just keeps growing with each passing day and with with each little sneaky smile and doe eyes you give him.

“we need to get the groceries this week, i have after classes soccer practice for the next four days and we're not gonna last that long,” the thought of spending the next four evenings alone in the unit is gloomier than the half assed ham and cheese toast jake makes for himself. if only you said yes to some proper breakfast, his taste buds and stomach wouldn't be suffering so much.

you nod as if he has eyes on his back, knowing well he's gonna want you with him but not force you, if you'd say no. whatever you want, is whatever he does.

“‘m gonna go take a shower first then,” hopping down, you place your empty mug in the sink, and skip to your room to take your bath supplies.

“let’s shower together,” jake's friskiness thrives in the way he shouts with an undertone of mischief. watching you with a teasing gaze as you step out the threshold of your bedroom door. a tiny smirk spreading onto his lips when you scrunch your nose in a grimace. cute, he mouths thinking you wouldn't notice but god you do. he's clearly joking but you can’t help feeling flustered internally. keeping up with his flirty and touchy stunts and tricks should have made it easier for you by now, but over a year in and you're yet to find yourself getting used to it. he’s too attractive and hot to get used to; at least that’s what excuse your brain gives you, which honestly is true to some extent. his looks score a lot of points and you can't deny that.

“and if we get locked in there, who’s gonna get us out? you know the door lock has problems,” you complain in a soft groan which, in his eyes is more adorable with the little annoyance you show. if you think you could ever intimidate him, you probably will because he'll melt right away to even think of a counter back.

his stance straightens at that, a fleeting look of flabbergast clouding his face before he’s breaking out in a taunt of smile, eyes closing in on you in a brazen look,“so does that mean if the lock was fine you’d actually shower together with me,” he feels this triumph of emotions, a sudden rush of sugar at the realization that'd probably maybe perhaps someday let him get in the shower together with you. the sheer excitement he experiences through his veins is over the roof, just the possibility of something so intimate with you is a bite of golden spoon for him.

he purposely stops all he’s doing to stare at you, moving his eyebrows cheekily, trying to provoke you,“i never said that,” you stick your tongue out at him, closing the door in a soft slam and crying out a ‘you’re sick in the head!’

“only for you!” jake yells back, chuckling to himself as he leaves the room.

two hours later you’re both strolling through the isles of shelving, bright florescent lighting, end displays of popular products, sale signs, banners with store mottoes, isle signs with product locations, rows and rows of household products and everything you'd always spend lots of time looking through until jake has to drag you back home.

he pushes the cart while you look around for items to throw in and cross out one by one from your checklist. the way you both discuss and bicker over what to keep in the cart and what not to every two minutes will lead any sane person to conclude you as a couple. you both would also admit it feels as such. how he insists on taking what you like while you argue that you’re on a diet and need to cut down on the consumption and desires of your sweet tooth. it feels sweet, he feels sweet. and you make him want to coddle you so bad, like what do you mean you're on a diet? you're perfect already. too perfect for him.

“i’m taking the pop tarts!” you hear him shout from two or probably three Isles away while you look through some new make up launches,”…okay fine!” capturing the attention of an old couple who glance at your way and mutter something you don’t quite catch but you assume it’s probably about how annoying you both are, shouting at the mart.

“yunie look these are so pretty,” you point at the line of lipgloss as jake comes over with cart. he hums in agreement, watching you scan through the shades in an animated mood, mumbling over the names and speaking of how it'd look good for an everyday look or with summer dress you recently got. oh how smitten he feels, observing the way you seem so pumped up simply over gloss.

“there's no mirror— “

“try it on me,” oh he's bewitched under your spell.

jake stands still as you apply the mauve on him, staring at you through hooded eyes,”oh, this one’s really pretty on you!” you beam, looking up at him as if he could see it too.

“it'd look prettier on you,” he's hardly able to whisper out, gaze trained on the way you part your lips while you wipe it off his and apply another. if he didn't have a strong self control, by now he would have shoved his tongue down your throat in the dirtiest and messiest kiss you'd ever known. knocking your breath out, as well as his. he's already on the verge of losing it with every little touch you leave on his lips, wetting your own as a habit.

“which one should i take?” you ask something cutely, jake almost feels guilty for the thoughts swimming in his head.

“i’ll buy all of it for you, we can do something like a chapstick challenge you know. the one where you kiss and guess the flavor,” he teases loving the tiny exasperated glare you throw him. “yunn, be serious! which one?”

“these two?” he points to ones you commented were pretty feeling impatient at the conjured up image of you wearing the colors on with you tiny, sexy little sundresses you got hidden in your closet. please feel guilty man he thinks.

in the end jake (successfully) convinces you to continue your diet later over the summer break offering to help you with it. and grabs a bunch of packets of your favorite snacks, your favorite brand’s watermelon lollipops and not to forget the fruit itself. checking all out he insists on carrying everything himself, only handing you the little bag that held your lollies in case you'd want one on the way back.

the subway is more crowded than usual, scarcely any seat left. it takes you a whole minute to scan around for an empty one, immediately encouraging jake to take it. a silly game of rock paper scissors to decide who stands, insisting firmly that he sit when you end up winning. the grocery bags rest by his foot and you stand between his legs, holding onto the bar wobbling every now and then. it’s just one stop left when jake suddenly pulls you onto his lap, adjusting you comfortably on his thighs and placing his hands on your legs possessively. you turn to look at him, lashes brushing against his skin and lips parting in the slightest at the adrenaline you feel pumping into your fast beating heart. the muscles in his chest feel firm at the faint touch of your back against him, the thumping of his own heart similar to that of yours.

he leans closer to whisper in your ear,“that creep right there kept staring you up and down,” pointing with a discreet move of his eyes as he drills holes through his stern gaze fixed on the said guy. you on the other hand, grow hot with irritation, perhaps just as hot and bothered you are feeling jake pressed so close. an abrupt and sharp impulse of anger.

“i’ll show him the fuck he was staring at," you mutter out, teeth gritted, and hands almost forming into fists, expression as innocent as always. jake seems to catch on to what you’re about to do and before you can get up from lap, his hold on you gets tighter,"okay, i know you hate this candy, but i don’t want you getting hurt in any way, if he does anything i’ll make sure to set him right, for now i think he got it that he’s not gonna stare at you however he wants,” hand grabing yours in gentle caresses along the expanse of your arm. delicate and slow like a soothing rub. his touch just as enticing and stimulating it is, is also calming, knowing exactly how to pacify your hot headedness. jake finds that really hot about you, the way you look like you couldn't harm a bug but he's seen you throw kicks and punches (for the right reasons) ‘looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you’ he never knew that's his type. sometimes and really only some rare times he wonders if you're not as innocent as he thinks you are, getting rock hard at the thought of it, dick twitching multiple times imagining you saying and doing things that an angel like you shouldn't be.

for the rest of the ride he manages to lull you back to your sweet candy mode, making you laugh at his lame pick up lines, and occasionally tickling your sides. head falling back into his shoulder in cute giggles and hips rolling on him, damn only he knows how bad he's holding back. as shameless as he is he'd probably jump your bones right infront of everyone to see. thankfully you bring the decency in your relationship.

when your stop comes, he intertwines his fingers you as you walk out the compartment, just in case you decide to give the dude a slap before leaving.

“'m gonna flatten out all your abs today, you'll need to gym again,” jake chuckles, feeling you roll over his body like mei’s lint roller as he lays on your favorite fluffy kuromi rug typing away on his laptop an essay deadlined for tomorrow. the weight of your body on and off and the touch of your hot skin he feels funsies,“you do this all the time, candy and my abs have never left. how can i let them? knowing how much you love it,” reaching behind to hold you still on his back. you are glad he can't see the way your cheeks warm up at that, a bashful look on your face remembering all the times he's caught you ogling at his body.

“why are you sulking?” he asks when you don't respond with a whine like you usually do. aware that you behave this way either when you’re over the top bathing in happiness or dissatisfied with something.

“’m gonna gain weight now because of you, i’ll see all the snacks and sweets in the pantry and not be able to resist binge eating,” you lightly punch at the curve of his shoulders, dropping your head into the crook of his neck in a pout. jake turns around swiftly to hold you in a hug, wanting nothing more than to cheer you up,“i love your belly anyhow, whether it’s visible or not,” giving the plump flesh of your stomach a zephyr-like pinch. you wince playfully drawing back inches to tease him only to drop down into his arms to hug him back seconds later,“yeah whatever,” his words make you feel butterflies, a turmoil of frenzy and fuzzy feelings, cheeks growing warm once again, and the warmth spreading all over your mind this time. why does he have to be so sweet to you?

you both stay like that for a while breathing slowly, and taking in the comfort of a hug, the room saturated with a restful and serene silence. you’re the first to pull away,“you should finish that essay, i have to prepare for my test next week,” jake groans at the loss of your touch, wailing out with his hands as you leave the room.

”i’m joining you as soon as i finish this!”

four days later on the weekend, you sit on the couch alone, wrapped in the thin lilac charmeuse blanket jake got for you (he said it the softness of it, reminded him of you.) waiting for your him to join you. eight in the morning with ‘tangled’ running on the tv, it's not something jake would ever want to do, but he gives in because you like it; bonus sometimes when you get a little sleepy, he grabs the chance to cuddle you as close as he can, leaving a few fluttering kisses on your temple and cheeks. he's grateful you never say anything about it and just let him be.

“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards jake as he walks out his room. his headset rests loosely around his neck, half naked, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and his black hair all dishevelled: looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. “yeah sure,” the rasp in his voice as he mumbles out softly gives away the fact that he probably stayed up all night again.

taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon, jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch, and extending it out for you to eat,“here you go, candy,” he does it quite often, infact he loves to feed you. seeing your cheeks full and your eyes sparkling makes him feel fond as much as it turns him on. picturing you the same way on your knees between his legs with his dick stuffed in your mouth. choking and gagging on him, tears dropping down your pretty eyes while you stare up at him with this same doe look. it'd be heaven. even more so if he would have to teach you how to do it right, further fueling the massive corruption kink he seems to have harboured after meeting you.

he passes you melon after you take the bite, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. eyes trained on the way you fill in more in your mouth than you can handle, face all round and full,”eat slowly,” he flicks at your forehead.

“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he adds a minute later, raising his brows subtly.

“well, first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your hook-ups i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you spit a seed at him. one that due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest. damn those muscles they get you feelings things you probably shouldn't be.

putting away the watermelon on your tea table, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off in a crackle of laughter,“this is public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”

“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.

“well that is exactly what you are!” you throw the closest cushion at his face. grinning with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.

“no don't do this me,”

“change the sheets then, it's your turn this week,” turning away from him, you fix your eyes on rapunzel climbing down the tower. trying to avoid the way he stares at you with betrayal, immediately scooting over to tickle you.

“you cheeky liar it's your turn,” his hands glossing over your ticklish areas.

“i love you,” in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, you shout. pushing against him to escape only to have your wrists pulled away, held together in a tight grasp and pinned above your head. “candy! i love you is not gonna get you out of chores come on i'll help you. we'll watch tangled later. together, i promise,” his laughter dies down with every word he utters, whispering out the last part as he becomes aware of the proximity between you two. so close you both think, breaths slowing down and heartbeats picking up the pace with each passing second.

“we're doing this okay?” jake whispers again, albeit, his tone a tad bit more heavy and bothered. an ambiguous daze clouding over, as if he is talking about something entirely different than just changing sheets. a twinge of lust bubbling inside. having you under him like this makes him realize just how desperately he wants you, and how bad his strength kink blooms for you. to have you whimpering and moaning, gaze all hazy as you let him do whatever he wants with you. damn he feels his dick twitch at that, gulping nervously hoping you wouldn't notice.

“you look like eugene,” you mumble out suddenly and jake feels his thirst rise off the roof, because the size difference between the characters? he wouldn't deny he thought of you the first time he saw the animation. wanting you have you in his arms the same way.

“then you must be my rapunzel,” you feel even more flustered if that's possible, your stomach twisting and twirling at his words until,”now come on we gotta keep the house clean for mother gothel,” jake let's his grip on you loosen, taking a moment to get off you.

“yunie!”

“i'll make you some sweet soy-glazed potatoes too later,” he voice drowns out as he enters you bedroom first.

“well i guess it's okay then,” you giggle following after him.

“candy that's not how you tuck in the corners,” jake scolds you for nth time, running after you to fix the edges you mess up deliberately time and again. “hey! candy! get down!” you make it a chaos for him, jumping onto the unmade bed and messing up the sheets all the way.

“oops,” there's a devilish grin on your face as jake pauses to watch you have your sugar rush episode.

“if you wanna wrestle again and end up under me, just say so,” he teases, inching closer and grabbing you by the waist. you both laugh again as if you weren't dripping with need for each other just moments ago. he picks you up and walks to the door putting you down by the sill,”i seriously need to get this done, you go and peel the potatoes for me,” you can't cook for the sake of god and letting you use knives is like a deathwish, jake can only hope peeling will keep you busy and safe enough to not end up with cuts anywhere.

the doorbell rings just as you step into the kitchen, walking back to the front in a sluggish sigh. feeling utter regret for answering the door, the instant you notice the figure outside. not wanting to reveal the presence to jake, you shut the door behind.

he peeps out your room at the sound of it, shrugging it off as nothing because you’ve done it lot many times: when your friends show up because you simply don’t want them to fall under his radar as prey.

you spare an indifferent glance at the way eunsang stands tall; hands folded with a cocky look on her rather gorgeous face. she's a beauty and you hate to admit that, a vibe so opposite of you it makes you insecure considering jake's hooked up with her more than a few times. “i’m here to see jake,” she states, tilting her head to point over at the closed door, all the sugary honeyed act she keeps up around him nowhere to be seen.

“and he doesn’t want to see you, didn’t he tell you it was the last time,” you counterattack, folding your arms and straightening up to look intimidating. your stare is one of taunt, carrying a gaze of boredom in hopes to establish that you're one to reckon with.

“are you jake? i said i want to talk to jake not you,” her heels click in impatience and underlying disgust in the tone she uses with you gets on your nerves.

you close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the annoyance in you before it turns into anger, tongue poking at the side of your cheek, “and are you deaf? i said he does not want to talk to you,” assert dominance, assert dominance you repeat over and over in your head.

but what she says next makes you lose your temper.

jake, the very epicenter of it all, on the other hand has no idea of what's going on outside until there's a scream that sounds too much like you, one turning into many more. it's frantic and inhumane, the speed at which he runs out. dropping everything and anything. there in broad daylight he finds you and eunsang trying to rip each other's hair out in the thankfully empty hallway. he doesn't know if he should be worried more about your scalp hurting or your throat tearing from how loudly you scream over eunsang. his hands flail as he contemplates on breaking the fight or letting you calm down, which you probably won't as he knows. he grabs onto eunsang's hands on your head trying to loosen her grip on your hair, concerned over the pain you must be feeling while you're there now trying to kick her between her legs. she's shocked to say the least, watching him latch you off her in a swift motion and throw you over his shoulder. he takes you back inside quickly, groaning at your fists pounding against his back in a protest,”fucking let go of me! i’m gonna give her a good piece of my mind!”

“candy language!” putting you down by the kitchen softly, he grasps the side of your arms and forces you to look into his eyes,“stop fighting all the time, stay here i’ll talk to her, okay?” he speaks slowly as an attempt to calm you. when you wiggle off in a scornful shrug, he asks again, this time moving to cup your face, a tender look in his eyes,“okay?” you nod in a defeated sigh and he's out the door before you can say anything else. you're upset, really upset, you know what you did outside was not decent yet you can't get over the fact that he left you in here to go back to talk to her. he was on your tail last week trying to beg you to help him get rid of her and even shooed her out the unit harshly, what more is there to talk about?

truth to be told, this was how he first met you, or should he say saw you. it was the move in day, he had all the necessities for the week packed in a travel suitcase, with the other stuff to be brought in later on. he was waiting for the elevator in the lobby, more tense and anxious than ever to meet the girl he was going to be living with a good four years of his college life. hoping she'd not treat him like some stranger, or be someone impossible to get close to hash live with. along with little bits of curiosity and hopes again, that she'd be a pretty and sweet girl maybe someone help could form some kind of benefits with.

however never in a million years did he ever expect it to be the cute yet fierce girl in the elevator. to say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement, he was literally blown off his feet, scared or impressed, his confusion was massive. when the doors of the elevator had opened he had found you slapping a middle aged man,”fun? you think groping my butt ‘s fun, you sicko,” kicking him in the balls next. hard. jake had gulped at that, hard. heart on a pause. the look of feigned innocence on your face as you did all that. damn jake swears it was that moment he fell. maybe not romantically but you definitely got his dick hard.

you looked super cute, and you knew how to fight, jake thought he hit the jackpot when you turned out to be his roommate. pretty you were, definitely, and sweet wasn't even a question; you were sweet to him and you are a lot of sweet. the only thing that remains a mystery till now is if you'd taste as sweet. jake hopes he can find that out.

he returns a few minutes later, lips pursed in a small smile as he shuts the front door. it grows even wider when his eyes find you,“so your soy glazed potatoes,” he chuckles walking over to the kitchen and getting other things out.

“she called me a slut for living with a guy like you and i was in the midst of giving her a lecture on actually how good of a person you are-” you bang on the counter with a thud and turn around to face him,“and you dragged me in!” whinning in a pout that looked as upset as your furrowed brows.

jake glances over in amusement, halting to give you another grin as he boops your nose gently,“my darling candy, i’m only good to you,” the glare you throw his way only makes him snicker with adoration. the little flicker of bashfulness you feel making you break out in a smile which (thankfully, for you) jake doesn't notice.

“whatever, i’m gonna take a long shower. do not disturb me!” you leave in a rush afraid if you stay too long he'd see it all on your face.

ten minutes later, as you tiptoe to get your favorite shower gel from the shelf above the mirror, luck decides to remind you why you shouldn't ever stay away from jake sim. feet slipping on the wet floor, body colliding against the cold tiles in a thud loud enough to have jake come running.

“candy, you're okay? what happened? should i open the door? ‘m coming in,” his voice is laced with worry, snapping open the door to find you laying flat down, though to his relief not unconscious. he picks you carefully, bringing you to your room and seating you on the edge of the bed to check for any injuries. hands delicately caressing all over and asking if it hurts any where,”you're so clumsy, always getting me worried like shit,”

“language,” you giggle, trying to make him laugh and it works.

“sorry, just please be careful, okay?” his fingers brush back your hair as you give him a small nod,“do you feel pain anywhere?” another nod, and this one ticks his alarms.

“where!” your fingers reach out to press against the brooding crease between his brows, attempting to remove the frown from his face. and jake melts at that, feeling his heart flutter at your cuteness, god he loves this side of you so much.

“you little demon, look what happens if you don't shower with me,” laughing out together, oh how he wishes it were like this forever. and jake sim has never thought of a forever ever before.

a month passes by in the blink of an eye, your routines and relationship staying the same as always, classes, his soccer practice and your weekly cleaning day. but what seems to have changed is his routine of bringing over girls, the number alarmingly cutting down day by day (which currently sits at zero) and what you haven’t noticed- his display of affection towards you growing more and more. yet you think nothing special of it, assuming that perhaps now he got a grip over himself. which is partially true. jake thought of you as deserving someone better, so it was only right that he became better. and what better way than to start with quitting the position of campus’ resident fuckboy.

after an all nighter the previous day, coming back from your classes you get straight to bed. changing you clothes and getting tucked under the blanket from around eight in the evening. jake returns from his soccer practice later, unaware of the fact that you're already passed out. opening your door to let you know of his night out plans,“candy, i’m gonna go out with jay and sunghoon! make sure to have your dinne- oh you were sleeping? i didn’t know i’m so sorry candy,” he mumbles out in a soft whisper towards the end, supressing a smile watching your sleepy figure under the covers. trying to rub out the drowsiness from your eyes; heavy blinking and a small pout, his cute girl.

“it’s okay no need to get up, go back to sleep, i’ll be back in the morning,” approaching the bed as you lay back down, he pats your head in a 'sleep well’ before leaving.

it's probably past midnight when you wake up to constant ringing of calls. fumbling around for your phone in a daze only to find a dozen calls from an unknown number and a bunch of texts from the same. it's jay, asking you to get jake from the bar they're at. saying the guy's refusing to go back with anyone that's not you: whining for your presence and making it hard for his two friends.

'where is my candy?’ jay and sunghoon are sick and tired of hearing it all night.

by the time you get him back to the apartment, it's three and your bones hurt from the weight of his body leaning all over you. it doesn't help that all he does is giggle and throw himself over you. there's been a lot of times you have seen him drunk, probably more than a dozen, but he's never looked as wasted as today. sunghoon told you it's because he drank way more than usual, and unbeknownst to you that you are the sole reason, you wonder of the things that plague his mind to the extent of drinking so much.

dragging him into his room you have him sit on his bed, going through his closet and getting him a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt you can grab. “come on yunie, get changed,” you hand him the clothes, turning away when he takes everything off nonchalantly. even though he likely would rather want you to look, from the many times he's said it before ‘why’re you looking away, candy it's all for you,’ his exact words. the bane of your existence.

after he's changed, you wipe the sweat off his body with a wet towel as much as you can. giving him a glass of water before leaving for your room when he grabs your wrist and stops you with his puppy eyes.

in the morning, around noon jake is the first one to wake up and having no memory of the previous night besides the fact that he was drunk. he sits at his desk chair, hands in his hair, watching you sleep on the other side of his bed, clad in his shirt. it’s like he feels everything is over and done from here. he did what he swore never to do, this was the very first thing he pinned on his mind as an important note: not using you even if he has very obvious feelings for you. he tugs on his hair in frustration, angry at himself for not staying in his lane when drunk. with his head hung in guilt, he doesn't notice you stirring awake, sitting up at the sight of his hunched figure.

“yun? are you okay? is the hangover severe? should i make you something for it?” startled at your soft voice, he flinches visibly. a thousand scenarios running through his mind and not one ends up good.

“you don’t even know any hangover recipes,” jake mumbles almost inaudibly.

“i can just search on the internet and try my best, it’s not like i’ll give you anything inedible,” you teaee, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere you feel in the air.

it takes him a moment to speak again, sounding as miserable as he has never before,“candy i’m,” he halts, gulping to hold back the lump in his throat,“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to, i don’t why i, it's all my fault,” he stops again, leaving you confused and dumbfounded,“what are you saying? what apology?” it is when his eyes shift to stare at what you’re clad in, staying there for a hard minute when you get a rough idea of what he could be thinking of. your cheeks grow hot at the realization, shaking your head when unholy images pop up in your subconscious.

but the butterflies fly away just as fast as they came as his words dawn uppn you. even if it didn’t happen the fact that he wouldn’t mean it, want it, regret it has something in you twisting in pain, are you so bad? or that he actually really thinks of you as his little sister? that you read his affections wrong, assumed his feelings differently? your heart breaks more than a little at that.

“why? is it because i’m not like the others you have been with? because i’m not like eunsang? or because i’m not her? the one you were smiling so hard after talking to? are you dating he-”

“that’s the problem! you’re not like her! you’re not like anyone i've known before! you’re special and i’m afraid i’ll lose you, things will change and just i’ll have to get over you without even getting a chance,” it's the first time he's ever raised his voice at you, and the first time ever he's sounded so desperate, weak and dejected. so vulnerable.

the split moment of sadness dissipates with every word that sinks in. the revelation of a(n after)drunk confession. the fact that you're a different kind of special to him, that he would want a chance to be with you, that he's afraid to lose you. you supres the urge to laugh when it all settles into your understanding. having a better grasp over the bigger picture. your steps are slow and calculated as you walk over to him, sitting across his lap and cupping his cheeks in a fleeting breath of courage. his eyes almost bulge out when you brush your lips lightly against his, mumbling softly,“nothing happened, but if you still want i can give you a chance, it’s going to be hard though tolerating me, think wisely,” you giggle and jake malfunctions for an instant before grabbing you in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“of course, of course i do want it, i’ve always wanted it,” chanting out in a trance.

“your lips tasted like watermelon,” he mutters out some time after, eyes locking with yours in an intense pull. still in a daze that out of all the bad things that could've happened it was none. literally none plus you perhaps wanting him just as much as he wants you.

“i had some in the morning before you woke up, anyhow yours taste like alcohol and your breath is horrible, go and freshen up,” you push at his shoulder, getting off him to leave the room to cook something. probably (as you said) a recipe searched up on the web, hopefully edible enough for a hungover person.

when he comes out later, all showered and back to the jake you know: the one who likes his hair slightly messy and almost never in a shirt. “why were- are you wearing my shirt then?”

“you practically begged me to last night while sobbing for i don’t know what reason,” he's a bit flustered at that, but hey, it's what got him here, you gotta do what you gotta do.

“candy, you wanna go out tonight? jay and sunghoon wanted to hang out but i don't wanna leave you so i said i’d bring you along,” jake asks, knocking at your door.

it takes you a little over a minute to open up but jake's does not mind it at all for obvious reasons, his jaw comically falling to the floor when you walk out in your tiny little blue sundress and the shade of lipgloss he was dying to see you in. you're unreal.

“yes! i heard you on call earlier,”

“oh my god candy, gimme a princess twirl,” the amount of desire he feels for you right now is unfathomable. biting his lips at the sight of your lace panties underneath that faintly flash him in the mini twirl you do. can you get any hotter?

“just fifteen minutes and i'll be ready,” he got ten minutes to do something about the boner he just popped, and it's more than enough to have him rub one out with what he just saw. maybe add a little hint of imagination and wondering what you'd sound like if he were to touch you down there. especially given the fact that the likelihood of it happening were through the roof now. you almost kissed last week, anything could happen at this point. and jake's dick gets impossibly sensitive at the odds of it.

at the restaurant, jay and sunghoon sit in an awkward silence, watching you both be all over each other. when they agreed for jake to bring his girl along, they didn't expect it to be so bad.

“um jake talks a lot about you,” sunghoon says trying to start a conversation that he knows probably wouldn't go anywhere.

“he does? that's so sweet,” you smile, giggling over something jake whispers in your ear, his hand palming over the plush of your exposed thighs,”what do you wanna eat?” sunghoon nerves feel boiled at the way jake completely skips over his attempt to talk to you. while jay sips at wine, agonizingly slow knowing this is how it's gonna be from now on. their friend is a changed man.

“i have this picture of jake from middle school, you'd love to see it i promise,” a little tipsy, sunghoon's persistence to put himself in the equation albeit admirable, annoys the fuck out of jake, scowling at the other well of aware of the so called picture he wants to share.

“jay man, take care of him. candy and i are going home,” jake gives them a tight lipped smile, holding your rather drunk self (it's just wine you had said)

“see you later ca- y/n,” at first jay leans in for a friendly hug but— nevermind. the way jake stares at him is scarily weird.

jake makes sure to have you sit on the couch before he leaves to get you water but you're sprawled out on the floor when he comes back. mumbling something about how cool the tiles feel against your skin,”come on you should drink some water,” jake pulls you up on your ass, sitting cross legged on the floor beside you. his hand softly holds the back of your head as he brings the glass to your mouth.

“alright say, what did you wanna say?”

“i wanna kiss you,” if jake thinks the pout on your lips is the cutest thing ever then the words you say must have to be the hottest thing ever. how can a simple word like kiss make his heart flutter so bad? and it's not even lust at this point.

he fulfils your wish without a thought, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. sucking on your bottom lip a second long before he pulls away and boops your nose. no tongue and no other intentions. the after taste of your gloss lingering in his mouth.

“let me tell you a secret,” you whisper out, moving over to his lap, knees on the floor each side.

“i knew you stole my kuromi panties,” he's shocked you know about it, he made sure to be extra careful with it, though his nasty ass was internally hoping you'd catch him.

“mhm, i do have it with me but it's not really wearable now,” he did not see this becoming something sexual but the moment you brought up the panties, you might as well have brought up his dick. man practically re-lived every single time he used it to jerk off, all those orgasms coming to life at once.

“you need to punished!” you whine,

“what do you wanna do?” and jake feels his dick get harder at that.

“can we kiss again?” oh my god, you make him feel so fuzzy and horny at the same time, it's unbelievable. in the guide of jake sim: to make him horny is relatively easy, to get him all fuzzy is once in a lifetime and to get him both at the same time is impossible. yet you do it so effortlessly.

jake answers you with his lips against yours again, relishing in the feeling of them on his own. all those times he wondered of how it'd feel like to kiss you seemed so lame now that he actually did. no imagination could ever come close to way he feels right now. his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls away for a moment,”i wanna love you so much and take you on cute little dates and buy you all the food you want and fuck you so hard you only remember my name,”he mumbles against your lips in a bit whisper, letting you take a breath before he dives right back in. this time he lets his tongue slide in, rubbing against your own for a short while only to pull back and go for another trying to keep your lips pressed together for as long as he could. finally pulling away when he feels you push against him a little too roughly, a crawl of shudders all over his skin at the roll of your hips against his bulge.

“wan’ you to fuck me too,” you whine, this time desperately.

“fuck candy, you're drunk we shouldn't be doing this,” he reminds, failing miserably to hold himself back. his hands keep twitching to just grab your hips and grind you down on his dick until you're both cumming together.

“i’m not, i swear. i just drank a little because i couldn't have done this all sober,” even through the layers of clothes, jake can feel your neediness dropping with the way you roll your hips harder against him. speeding up when you think he's pushing you away, but he's just grabbing you closer by the waist. he can't deny how wanted he feels right now, feeling like he'd explode any second. the fuck were you so horny for him?

“are you sure this is okay?” he asks again. no matter how bad he's dying to fuck you, he'll never do it if you don't to.

“‘s okay, please yunie,” you feel his hands slide along your thighs and in between your legs. fingers faintly brushing over the wet patch on your panties in a sharp inhale. he grazes two fingers against your clit, testing the waters. rubbing harder when he feels your breathing pick up it's pace, switching to spank your clit impossibly fast having lost control at the sound of your wanton whimpers.

“don’t move and take it baby,” jake growls, pushing you flush against his chest, making your back arch more and more into him. tits bouncing right up in his face as he bends down to nibble as the exposed skin between them.

he stops for a moment only to push your panties to the side and touch you raw. rubbing rougher and so intense, your legs feel number from pleasure,”has anyone touched you like before?” his jaw clenches hard, eyes dark with want as they remain fixated at the sight of his hands on your pussy. fuck he finally knows what touching you feels like.

“ngh— no, fuck!” and it boosts jake's ego through the roof, he doesn't think he's ever felt as horny as he feels right now. the thought of being the first to touch you in your princess parts, the first you have seen you putty like this, the first to be the one to get you like this. fuck, fuck, fuck! he feels so turned on it's literally inhumane. precum oozing out his tip with every twitch of his dick.

“mm, gonna put my fingers in you,” you feel one of jake's fingers press into you, sliding inside easily with how dripping wet you are. the pornographic moan you let out when he slowly slips in another and curves up has his dick twitch so damn hard he thinks he just came untouched. you sound so cute yet so fucking hot, his mind is in a spiral of everything he wants to do to have you moan like that again and again until you're so drunk on pleasure, you only want him all the time.

“shit you're so tight and warm, can't imagine how good you'd feel around my cock,” his eyes keenly hooked on the way you raise your hips to meet the thrusts halfway,”y-yun, ‘s feels too g-good ah,”

“fuck you're so hot and so perfect for me,” his words travel straight to your core having you clench tight around his fingers and all of a sudden you find your oragasm hitting you as violently as jake continues to run you through it, fast and painfully pleasurable. enamoured and obsessed with the way your doe eyes struggle to stay open, mouth parting in a loud whine, back arching and hips shooting up. god you're a piece of art and jake doesn't think he's ever gonna want anyone other than you.

he immediately stands up with you in his arms, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing you gently on the cold marble. his fingers run through your hair in a soft caress, tucking in the messy strands behind your ears,”you sure you want this? we can stop here if you want. just say the word and i’ll stop,”

“wan’ yun to be my first,” you whimper wearily, jake feels his heart skip a couple of beats. your first, he wants to be your last too and you to be his last.

”gonna make you cum so much harder on my cock,” he places his hands on your thighs in a tight grip and forces them apart fervently. he so damn wants to eat you out but he also wants to feel you cum around his cock, it's a hard choice to make but his cock feels so angry and heavy slick from all the precum he shot out each time you whimpered or moaned or whined, if he'd wait to get his dick wet he'd probably actually come untouched from your sounds and reactions alone. and only god knows(jay too oops) how bad jake sim wants the first time he cums with you to be deep inside you. so much so that he might develop a kink of getting you knocked up (nope you're too young for that!)

he takes his pants off in a snap, practically ripping his boxers along with it, grabbing his rock hard dick, throbbing and red at the tip and trusting into his fist a couple of times. breathing heavy at the way you watch him with your lips between your teeth. he wonders how good it'd feel to watch you touch yourself while he does the same, cumming together with your eyes locked. but he probably doesn't have that kind of self control to just watch you touch yourself, when he can do it himself?

he taps his tip against your clit for a hot minute sliding it along your folds in a strained groan. you're so embarrassing wet, it's like jake could shove himself inside immediately and your you'd hardly feel pain for a while. however, holding back his desires, he pushes into you slowly, holding your body close and stroking your back soothingly,”let me know when i can move,” a tender kiss at your forehead, trying to make sure you know you have the say it in.

jake groans as you give him the go seconds later,”mhmmm candy⁠— baby,” moaning soft and lustful as he pulls out till the tip and thrusts all the way in. your insides feel so warm and gummy, walls clenching around him crazy tight. he thinks he'll lose his mind and end up cumming embarrassingly fast like a teen getting pussy for the first time. the way he feels the pleasure throb in his veins so intense all over his body, it's almost numbing.

your hands loop around his neck, fingers scratching at his back as he pounds into you rough, his pace hard and fast pushing all his body weight against you.

“don't think i can ever get enough of you,”

the sight of the thin straps of your dress slipped to the sides, tits almost spilling out of the front gets jake going, fueling him to grab at you anywhere and everywhere his hands can possibly go,”tell me im dreaming fuckkk— i've wanted you for so long, can't count the number of times i've jerked off to the thought of having you like this, so pretty and dumb under me,” all those evenings when you roamed around the unit in the shortest shorts and the smallest crops, driving him mad shit insane, having to sneak off into the bathroom multiple times. fisting his cock hard, groaning and biting back his moans as he got off to the thought of you, while you sat all unaware and innocent on the other side of the wall.

he stops abruptly, pulling out in a frenzy and turning you around on your heels and pushing you by the back of your neck to lay against the cool granite. one hand going down to grab at your thigh and hook it up on the counter, drooling at the way your pussy glistens from the angle. he shoves his dick back in without a warning, feeling your ass collide against him harsh yet fervid.

you both pant in rasps when his cock hits a sensitive spot inside you. he shifts to angle himself just right to repeatedly brush against that spot and you mewl out loud at that, so loud your neighbours probably know what you're up to.

“fuck i can't stand not seeing your cute face,” jake bends over to grab you by your throat, pulling you up and flush against him, head resting back at his shoulders as he forces to look at him, fingers gripping your jaw softly,”eyes on me, okay baby?” grunting from deep within his chest, a wild grin on his face as he watches you get lost in ecstasy,”i’ll get you addicted to my cock,” just like how addicted he already is with your pussy and everything about you.

his other hand reaches up to tug the front of your dress down, groping up one of your tits, a silk touch to see your reaction. loving the way it's so obvious how sensitive you are there. mouth parting open with you in sensuous gasps as he twists your nipple harshly, rubbing the tip with his thumb. your walls clench a little too hard and your back arches off as you push your hips back into him, the tell tale signs of you getting close,”my baby's gonna cum for me?”

holding your jaw to have your eyes trained on him, he unexpectedly inserts his thumb in your mouth pressing against your wet tongue, your red swollen lips too tempting to resist,“fuck yes, show me how pretty you cum,” you mumble out a series of incoherent words in hazy chant.

the hand on your breast slips down to your lower abdomen pressing rashly against his bulge, feeling faint movement of his cock deep inside you. fuck you're so small and delicate. his hold on you tightening as his calloused fingers find your neglected bud, rolling it in quick, tight circles. it's so painful yet you feel so good, tears wailing down your cheeks as your orgasm crashes hard, overwhelming and violent, thighs trembling and pussy clenching uncontrollably. jake's continues to rub your clit, helping you ride out your high. eyes fluttering shut, and swallowing thickly at the sensation of you creaking over his sensitive length, cock throbbing impossibly hard.

jake refuses to stop even after you have come down,”one more candy, i know you can do one more for me,” hips hammering into you at full force, and lips finding yours in ragged breaths. and it dawns on you what exactly you have gotten yourself into when you feel the two of his fingers protruding at your entrance, trying to push in beside his cock,“if you try to close your legs i'm gonna punish you,” he warns making you whine into his mouth.

in a flash he turns your body to face his, quickly shoving his cock and fingers back into you. his other hand spanking the skin of your ass and kneading it a soft caress after. he eyes hypnotized at the view of you taking him in, a white ring of your cum adorning the base of his cock. he spits at your clit, once again toying with the engorged bud, pinching and flicking,”“gonna make you cum until you pass out, fuck i really wanna do that⁠—” your hand darts out to grip at jake's wrist, feeling too overwhelmed with hypersensitivity. wanting to shy away but the pleasure’s so good you can't bring yourself to push him away.

“but it's your first time,” jake mumbles between hoarse grunts.

before you can even realize it yourself your third orgasm courses through you vehemently. body jerking and twitching, almost falling over if not for jake's hold. jets of cum gushing out as you moan loud.

feeling you spill down his cock, all warm and tight, his brutal rhythm falters,”fuck- ‘m gonna cum,” eyes locking with yours as he thrusts once, twice and then stills, burying himself deep, streams of cum shooting out. hot spurt after spurt, swollen cock twitching against your walls. goosebumps all over, his legs quiver from how hard he came.

he stays quiet and motionless for a while, his arms wrapped around your shaking body. breathing in the scent of your shampoo, trying to calm his pounding heart and cock.

“you good candy? i’m sorry, i think i went a little rough on you,” you nuzzle into him in quiet,’its okay’ as he strokes your head, leaving fluttering kisses over your face. picking you up by the thighs he brings you to your bed, laying you down and gently pulling out. groaning at the way all your mixed cum oozes out, pretty little hole clenching around nothing.

exhausted, you let your mind drift, feeling the drowsiness kick in while jake bends between your legs with a wet towel. whining wearily, when his lips wrap around your nub in a suck, the wet sensation of his tongue against your clit like a shot of electricity,”sorry, baby just had to do that once,” he knew he didn't just call you candy for nothing and he was right. grining sheepishly as he wipes the rest of the cum off, cleaning you all up.

“you're nasty,” you manage to whisper out.

“only for you,” the touch of his body is hot and comforting, arms around your waist cuddling closely(and half naked).

“let's shower together in the morning, wanna eat you out so-”

“jake!”

“what? it's the truth!”

the following around four in the afternoon before jake has to leave for his soccer practice, you approach him on the couch, as always re-watching an episode of vincenzo. you haven't talked much about labels, but it's known to everyone that you're sorta together. more like jake is taken by you. his friends weren't too surprised to know about you both, it was obvious jake had the hots for you and from the little hangout at the restaurant they figured it all worked out for him.

“incoming, pocky!” you sit beside him with a banana flavored pocky stick between your teeth, leaning in teasingly.

“oh you want me so bad,” he plays along inch closer and biting it off in a snap, lips barely brushing against yours.

pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed into his chest, he locks you in place, chuckling at the way you attempt to escape. his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you surrender in seconds, switching to watching the show absent-mindedly,”my parents wanted to meet you,” he drops the bomb, tracing random letters on your skin to distract of the fact that he just mention a meeting with parents.

“as my roommate, actually,” quickly adding the important point, fingers poking at your cheeks like jello.

“so suddenly though?” you think back on all the things you have ever done to him, for them to want to see you. perhaps they think of you as a snobby girl who’s indulging their son’s already unpleasant habits.

“they’ve actually been wanting to meet you for the past three months, i was putting it off but now summer break is starting next week and i have no more excuses to give,” hugging you, he rests his head on the curve of your neck, breathing in the smell of watermelon that surrounds you after you had basically devoured a whole at lunch. “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, i’ll talk to them,” he assures, not wanting you to feel obligated to agree, or force yourself despite being uncomfortable.

“no it’s okay, we can go meet them. how long will the drive be?” fumbling with his red knuckles, your mind wanders off to when he fingered you, growing hot and embarrassed all of a sudden. hardly listening in on his answers.

when jake leaves for his soccer practice, you find time to complete the trivial chores around the house. watering the plants with a pout, missing jake more than ever. you have completely different majors and you are not in any clubs either to stay after classes. the only time you spend together being the one at the apartment which is also cut down by his frequent practice sessions, sometimes in the morning during weekends and normally most evenings on weekdays. it makes you ponder on whether you should try out for any club, after all these years doing something else besides studying. but you have no idea what you should consider, having no knowledge on which clubs you could be eligible to join.

it takes you two whole weeks and a bunch of outfit checks to find yourself on your way to meet jake's parents. feeling almost weird and exhilarating at how his parents and his older brother welcome you. treating you so well even though they recognize you as nothing more than just his college apartment roommate who helps fix his laptop and tolerates the boy knowing the kind of womanizer he is. appearing more as a meeting with in-laws when you jake and you are not even official yet, more so they have no idea of what's going between you two.

they try their best to make you feel at home. during the lunch as jake had told them beforehand, his mother had a few sweet dishes prepared for you, coddling you just as jake does back at your unit. they talk to you about casual things including your likes and dislikes, what major you are in, whether jake treats you well, if you have any complaints regarding his behavior. it doesn’t feel as awkward as you as thought it would and you didn't have to put on any act as you prepared yourself to do.

in the beginning of your roommate journey, his accent, his voice was the first thing to attract you but slowly as you explored his personality you came to like him for more than just what attracted you to him. now you as you spend time with people closest to him, you understand where he got it all from. the sweet person he is, which you never expected a fuckboy to be, you didn’t even have an ounce of hope that he’ll acknowledge your presence in the apartment when you got to know about his playing around conduct. yet he turned out to be the sweetest boy you’ve ever come around in your life ( and the nastiest perhaps, )

when you are sitting alone with his brother, while jake is away downstairs to bring you something sugary to eat, his brother takes it as a chance to share his thoughts,“you know until i heard him call you candy a while ago, i was under the impression that 'candy’,” he quotes it specially with a movement of his fingers,“is supposedly a cheerleader fling of his after i saw the contact name showing up when he got a call the last time he was here,” giving you a sly look as he catches sight of jake approaching,“turns out it’s you, i never knew he is the type to give such sweet, unique petnames,”

before you leave in the evening, jake makes sure to let them know that you’re toegther, and that he’s not playing around this time. he’s willing to give effort into it and change his usual ways of living, to be better for himself and as well as for you.

on your way there you had thought of a lot things, had a lot of assumptions and expectations. even prepared yourself to hear things that’ll stick to you not so positively. but what stays in your mind now is completely unexpected and opposite of what you had internally composed yourself for. it’s all you can think of in the car and after you’re back in the comfort of your familiar apartment.

cheerleader, not a bad idea—

“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.

“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.

“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.

“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.

“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[sinfulspencer]

Flashed

Prompt: It’s too hot to wear clothes at home, so Reader walks around in her underwear. Spencer loses his train of thoughts at the sight.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic (Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader if you squint), dirty talking, hair pulling, light impact play, breeding kink, unprotected sex 

Words: 5.0k

A.N.: Horny Spencer. That’s it. Also, this is the first official Spencer Reid fic I have written since last year. It felt so good to write for him again. Written this with a prompt from the Summer Sunshine challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins. Thank you to @reidselle and @drgenius-reid for beta-reading this fic!

MASTERLIST. REQUEST GUIDELINES. TAGLIST FORM.

When Spencer asked you to move in with him at the end of the year, he was ready to face every challenge that life would throw at him. The first fights over laundry, the first fight over whoever almost set the house on fire, the first fights over the person that was supposed to remake the bed before going to work, the first fights over whoever left the TV on before going to bed… 

He was prepared for everything.

Spencer learned to cook (he wasn’t good at it, but he knew how to turn on the stove and boil some water, at least). He learned how to do laundry. He learned how to clean the floors without you falling on your own ass because he forgot to tell you that the ground was wet. 

But Spencer wasn’t ready for the summer. 

You moved in with him during the fall season, when it was still cold outside, and it was time to drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. You moved in with him when you were still wearing a winter jacket, leather boots and a scarf around your neck. You moved in when the wind was so cold that you could barely keep the window slightly opened in the bathroom after taking a shower to let the steam go out. 

Spencer wasn’t fucking ready for summer.

The hot weather was already taking a toll on his poor body and he hated it. Spencer despised the high temperatures because they made him sweat like a pig and he hated, more than anything, the feel of sweat under his armpits or behind his knees. 

Normally, before you moved in, Spencer would spend the whole time at home completely naked or wearing only underwear. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it happened quite a lot. 

What was the problem, then?

Spencer used to walk around in his apartment in his underwear when he was alone, but you’re doing it while he’s in the house. He knew you paced around the house that way because you felt comfortable, but still. He was a stupid man, with hormones that rushed through his body like crazy.

You walked around your shared apartment with nothing on but a pair of panties that Spencer always wanted to rip off you and a stupid bra that made your breasts look even more delicious. 

And the sight had started to take a toll on Spencer for the worst. He was constantly horny, making it difficult for him to focus on simple tasks such as cleaning the whole apartment or doing laundry. 

He woke up one day and you already were parading yourself in your underwear, which made his morning wood even more difficult to take care of. He came home that same night and you were still in your underwear, which led him to forget he was supposed to grab some dinner with Luke because he ended up taking you against the bedroom door.

Spencer didn’t want you to wear clothes if you were too hot, but he also needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself whenever he saw an inch of your naked skin. He felt like a teenager, always eager to touch and ravish what belonged to him.

When Spencer tried to explain the situation to Luke, his colleague laughed right in his face. At first, Spencer was offended. 

‘Why are you complaining about seeing your girlfriend’s tits? You should be happy she feels comfortable around you.’

And Spencer was happy; he truly was. He was proud to know he made you feel good about yourself and allowed you to walk around the house almost naked, but he also felt like an idiot for getting a boner whenever he thought about coming home and knowing he’d find you dressed like that. 

Or better, undressed. 

That night, Spencer couldn’t wait to get home and tell you that he had a birthday party to attend next week. It was Penelope’s birthday and, as every year for the past ten, she had an entire day planned for her and her friends from work. There would be a huge pool party in a small agritourism she rented for the day, followed by a barbecue and a whole garden to explore. 

Spencer was excited to bring you there. 

You had been dating for over a year now and you couldn’t meet his co-workers and friends because you always had meetings to attend, or shifts that were incompatible with the nights the team hung out all together. 

“Y/N?” Spencer called out when he entered his apartment. 

The lights in the kitchen were on and he could hear you humming to a song blasting from the speakers. 

He dropped his bag on the floor and followed the sound of your voice, only to find you in nothing but your underwear. Again. You had your back turned and were swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, making Spencer smile at the sight. Though the music was loud and almost hurt his ears, he was willing to tolerate the loud volume if it meant he could observe you in your element for hours on end. 

He was so enamoured with you even though you weren’t doing anything in particular. He fell harder for you everyday just watching you exist, breathe and live on your own.

But of course, the romantic thoughts in his head abruptly stopped when you felt his presence in the room and you screamed.

“Fuck! What the fuck, Spencer?!”

He didn’t want to laugh at your terrified expression, but a chuckle fell from his lips. 

“Did I scare you?”

You roll your eyes, dropping your apron on the counter. “No. I screamed because I was learning how to fry scream. Fuck yes, you scared me.”

Spencer walked to the other side of the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. You smelled like apples and he could see them in the corner of his eyes, all peeled up. 

“How was work? Did you get your stuff done?” you asked

Spencer nodded his head, kissing your temple without losing his grip on you. “Yes. I’m exhausted, though. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could relax and enjoy some time with you.”

You leaned forward, caressing his soft curls. “I bet you’re tired. You’ve been awake since five in the morning.”

As Spencer left the kitchen to get changed, he heard the music turning back on and he smiled. Your footsteps echoed in the room, and he smiled because he knew you were dancing to your favourite songs again. But still, there was a big problem that needed to be solved at that instant. 

You were still in your underwear and of course, he had noticed that. How couldn’t he? 

Spencer saw you for less than three minutes and yet, the bulge in his trousers made it difficult for him to think straight. He didn’t know how it was possible for you to turn him on that much, but you did and it was starting to make things harder for him.

If Spencer brought you to Penelope's birthday party, you were definitely going to wear a bikini. And a bikini is basically the same thing as your underwear… which meant one thing.

“Oh no.”

“Are you talking to me?”

Spencer turned around, attempting to cover the issue between his thighs with the jacket he brought to work that morning. 

“Uh, no love. No, I was just thinking about… something.”

“Care to share?” you asked with an innocent smile.

Spencer knew that smile was actually innocent; you had no ill intentions, but his brain was starting to play games with him. He was so turned on that Spencer thought every little microexpression on your face and every move you made were just actions to tease him and work him up. 

They were not. Or maybe they were.

“Sorry, uh… Yeah. Penelope invited me to her birthday party this Saturday.”

Your face enlightened at his words. “Oh! That’s so nice!”

“She asked me to bring you, too.” 

“I don’t like the tone you just used. If you don’t want to bring me, that’s…”

Spencer widened his eyes, realising that his words might’ve sounded rude. “No! I’m excited to let you meet all of my friends and co-workers, truly.”

“Then, what is it? I know there’s something that bothers you.”

You sat on the bed with your legs crossed, waiting for Spencer to continue but, he didn’t dare to move. If he placed his jacket on the bed, you would’ve noticed the painful tent in his trousers. If he didn’t move, you would’ve asked him why he wasn’t taking off his clothes and putting on more comfortable ones.

Too many thoughts were running wild through Spencer’s brain and it was difficult for him to gather them all, cast aside the naughty ones and focus on the more normal ones. 

It was tough not to stare at the curves of your breasts and how he could see the shadow of your nipples hidden behind the fabric of your bra. He has spent so many hours just licking and sucking your skin around your breasts, that he can still taste you on his tongue if he focuses hard enough. 

“Penelope has rented a whole place for all of us.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Sounds really nice. Is there a swimming pool involved? Is that why you’re worried?”

Spencer bit his bottom lip, forcing himself not to stare at the way your hair fell over your shoulders and covered the laces of your bra. A few days ago, he used his teeth to remove that same bra. It was a struggle not to think about that night, and he pathetically failed.

“I’m sure the place she rented is clean and…”

As you started to speak and comfort Spencer over his fear of germs, his mind wandered elsewhere. You moved to the centre of the bed to be closer to him and laid on it, with your arms behind your head and your body all stretched out. 

Your bra barely covered your full breasts and your thighs were much more visible, with all the little bruises still peppering your skin. The same bruises he caused two days before. The same bruises you begged him to create on. 

Spencer’s brain was starting to get even foggier. 

“Are you even listening to me, love?” 

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Spencer dropped the jacket on the floor, quickly bending over to pick it up. Of course, he was listening to you, but he was just… thinking about something else while you were talking. 

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Spencer turned away from you and looked down, frowning. His bulge was still there and getting more painful, but how in the world was he going to face you and ask you if you could help him out? He knew you would, in a heartbeat, but he felt miserable. 

How could he ask you to stop walking around his place in nothing but your underwear when he wanted to worship your body every hour of every day? How could he deny himself the sight of your stunning body? 

His eyes went straight to your breasts and of course, you noticed it. 

“Spencer!”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“My God.” - you started to say, sitting up on the bed - “You’re distracted! You can’t even finish a sentence or listen to me.”

Spencer hummed again, forcing his eyes to stay on your face. Unfortunately, they slipped down to your breasts once again - but that time, Spencer didn’t deny it. How could he? He had been so obvious since he arrived home, but you thought to yourself that maybe you were imagining things.

Or you were too horny, but you weren’t. He was. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“You’ve been staring at my breasts since you saw me in the kitchen.” you stated

Spencer sighed, turning his back on you again. “I’m sorry. They’re distracting.”

“Look at me, love.”

He lingered for a few seconds, covering his face with both hands. He didn’t want to turn around because he knew you would’ve teased him for hours on end, but it truly wasn’t his fault. It was his brain that tricked him into staring at your boobs and remembering all the things he did to you the night before and all the other days. 

It wasn’t his fault he had an eidetic memory and he could replay all your moments of intimacy together each time he wanted. How you looked when he kissed your neck, how you moaned when his tongue swirled around your nipples…

“You can look at them whenever you want, you know.” - you tapped his shoulder, kneeling behind him on the bed - “I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point, Y/N.” - Spencer replied, forcing himself to turn around - “You’re so distracting, I can barely think when you’re there… dressed up like that.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me to change?”

“No!” - he exclaimed, before clearing his throat - “I mean… maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t keep getting hard because you’re half-naked.”

“What’s wrong with being attracted to me, love?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know, but it’s hard to be around you when all I think about is how I want to just…” - he took a deep breath before shaking his head - “I need to behave, I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence where you pondered over his words. He seemed so miserable and all because he was so attracted to you that he could barely think, that he could barely remember that he had other things to do other than you. 

That felt incredibly hot. 

Leaning forward, you placed a hand on his hip. “I want to hear what you’re thinking about right now.”

Spencer shook his head, covering your hand with his. “It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early to make love to your partner, Spencer.”

You were right, he knew that, but he also knew that if he kissed you and took you right there, he would’ve spent the whole night just trying to do it over and over until you were too tired to move or to keep your eyes open. 

Spencer sighed and looked down at you. “You drive me crazy.”

“And what’s the harm in that, love?” you asked innocently 

He moved his hands under your neck and forced you to look at him, gripping your chin with his fingertips. You went quiet, trying to decipher the expression on his face, though the tight grip was already a good hint of what he was thinking about.  

“No harm.”

“Exactly, so… What’s stopping you?”

Spencer knew nothing was stopping him from pressing your body onto the mattress and pounding into you. He had every right to do so because he knew you wanted it as much as he did, but still. There was an issue to fix and he refused to let his hormones get in the way, once again. 

But maybe just this time, Spencer thought.

You leaned your head against his palm, and closed your eyes when his fingers brushed over your cheek. He could look at you for hours, admiring how you basked in the sweetness of his touch that you found so comforting. 

“Nothing’s stopping me.”

You sighed, running your hands over his chest. “Good.”

Spencer unbuckled his belt and the metal clanking of it falling onto the floor brought an eager smile to your lips. Of course you smiled, because you were about to get exactly what you wanted since he came home. 

Little minx, Spencer thought. 

“You don’t need to hold back from what you truly desire, Spencer.” 

He drank up your words like they were the sweetest honey and he sighed. You were right; he didn’t need to stop himself from putting his hands over you if you wanted to be touched as well, but still.

“If you want to rip my underwear off me, you can do it.” - you muttered, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt - “If you want to fuck me like this, while I’m almost naked and you’re still dressed, you can do it.”

Spencer watched as your skilled fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulder and sighed, because there was nothing else he could do or say at that moment. You had him wrapped around your tiny finger and you knew it, which was why he loved you so much. You could’ve snapped your fingers and he would’ve dropped to his knees for you. 

“I just.. I just need to have you. At all times.”

“You can.” - you replied with no hesitation, only firmness in your voice - “I am here for your pleasure. Always.”

Spencer released a long sigh. “I know. I’m so lucky.”

Pushing his trousers down his legs to reveal his soft skin, you looked up at him with your lips turned into a wicked grin. You could see the emotions rapidly changing behind those eyes: lust, frustration, love, annoyance and desire. That was exactly what you wanted: you craved to drive Spencer crazy and you needed him to lose his mind over you. 

It made you feel powerful.

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.” you said 

Spencer leaned into your touch when you reached out for his face. “So are you, princess.”

But the tender moment was gone as fast it came, because there was no time to be nice to one another. Spencer wanted to wreck you and you wanted him to do as he pleased; you wanted the pleasure to consume him, and so it did.

Spencer kissed you for the first time since he came home and, of course, he had no time to be nice. His tongue pushed into your mouth without warning, but you let it as you laid down on the bed with the man on top of you. The kiss expressed all the frustration that had built within him ever since he came home and found you in the kitchen, wiggling your ass to the music and singing at the top of your lungs. 

His teeth dug into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and you whined, almost tasting blood on your tongue. 

“Let me be rough tonight.”

You grabbed him by the chin, staring right into those honey-coloured eyes. “Perhaps I was not clear with my words a moment ago, Spencer. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Spencer groaned at your words and pushed any rational thought out of his mind, allowing the frustration and profound desire felt for you to drive him. His pupils were blown wide with unbridled lust making you shiver, bringing the heat between your thighs where you so desperately wanted to be touched. 

Spencer kissed your mouth before moving down to your throat, attacking it with bites and gentle licks that made you whimper. 

“I’m going to ravish you tonight, my princess.” - Spencer whispered to your ear, running his hands all over your breasts - “And you’re going to take my cock like the good girl I know you are for me, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, love.”

He moved his hands to your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hands and knees.”

You scrambled to turn around, struggling to move as his arms didn’t give you as much space as you needed. Spencer, ever so helpful, pulled your hips up when you managed to roll on your tummy. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

You could feel his cock against your ass when he leaned forward to bite your shoulder and you moaned, closing your eyes. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, dragging your panties down your thighs before throwing them on the floor. 

Spencer’s mouth wandered down your neck, leaving a trace of kisses that started from your right shoulder and went down to your ass. He nibbled at the soft skin right below it before biting down, hard enough to draw blood. You yelped at the feeling, but didn’t complain as your hands scratched the blanket. 

Spencer pulled away for a second and traced the small wound with the tip of his index, earning a hiss from you. It hurt, but you wanted it to hurt - you promised you’d bleed for him, and bleed you did. 

“Good girl. So pretty for me.” - Spencer whispered, but you were more focused on the sound of a bottle of lube being opened - “I’m sorry, I’m so impatient to have you. I wish we could take this slow, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re desperate.” - you mumbled, moaning softly when his fingers breached your entrance - “It’s fucking cold.”

He chuckled at your reaction, smearing the lube all over your already wet slit. “Oops”

When you were ready, Spencer found no resistance as he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. He watched the way your walls welcomed him in and revelled in the sweetness of your whimpers and whines when you felt him. Spencer waited, watching you as you struggled to stay still for him. 

“Please, just… Get inside, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh? Wanna take it all at once, my princess?” - Spencer asked, running his left hand through your hair - “Are you desperate for my cock? Then, fucking have it.”

In one hard thrust, Spencer bottomed out inside of you and you fell on the bed with your face in the pillow. You trembled when you finally felt every inch of his cock inside of you and you thought you were ready to fall off the edge in less than a minute. 

You were desperate for him every single time you had the chance to make love to him.

“Take it, princess. You wanted it and now you have it.”

Spencer watched you as you arched your back, tightening your grip on the bed sheets. A chorus of curses and moans flows from your lips as you try to get back on your knees, but his thrusts are too quick and harsh to let you get in position. So, again, you fell down with your face in the pillow. 

The pleasure quickly expanded through your body as Spencer never slowed down the pace of his thrusts, basking in the gentle sounds of your moans. His right hand travelled down to reach your ass, and before you felt it, you heard it - there was a brief moment of silence, followed by a loud smack and then a deep heat diffusing over your skin. 

It had been so long since he spanked you, but with that position, you couldn’t blame him.

The sensation heightened the pleasure within you. 

“Oh, fuck!”

Spencer moved both his hands on each side of your head and leaned forward, keeping his thrusts quick and regular. You could feel his body tense each time you tried to push back into him, to fuck yourself onto his cock. 

You were already close, desperate to ride that delicious end. 

“Please, more.” - you cried out again - “Please, I’m close.”

“Don’t you dare.” - he bit your earlobe - “Don’t you fucking dare come on my cock now.”

You whined at his order, not sure how you would be able to hold it and be a good girl for him. It wasn’t easy to hold an orgasm, especially if Spencer never stopped fucking into you with all the energy he had in his body. You were so close, you were right there but Spencer stopped his movements - and suddenly, you felt a warm tear slip down your cheek.

A single tear of frustration. 

Spencer forced you on your back, pushing you onto the mattress before sliding his cock back inside of you. 

“I want to see your pretty face when you come, princess.” - Spencer whispered, lifting your right leg and wrapping it around his own waist - “I want you to look at me as you come undone on my cock.”

His pace is as rough as before and you felt more tears spill from your eyes. Your hands quickly went behind his neck as you rolled your hips, a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself back onto his cock to feel more and more. 

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The only word that fell from your lips was a strained ‘yes’ that echoed in the room, encouraging Spencer to go harder and faster, to tear you down piece by piece.

And he looked fucking stunning as he did so. 

His lean body, his muscles were tense, a single strand of hair falling over his forehead and his tongue poking out in concentration… You wanted to get those details tattooed on your brain, on your body, every-fucking-where. 

“Such a good girl for me, huh? My pretty princess.” - Spencer whispered, looking down at you - “Always welcoming me with nothing on, knowing how crazy that makes me.”

Your lips opened slightly, more whimpers flowing from them. 

“Do you know how difficult it is to get out of here and not remember all the times I’ve fucked you against the door?” he said, his voice rough.

You shook your head, not sure if you understood what he said. 

“Fuck, you make me so horny. I fucking love your body.” - he mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours - “I always think about it and then I see dressed like that… It’s like you’re always begging me to bend you over and fuck your pretty cunt.”

You’ve always loved his dirty mouth, but that day it felt deliciously perfect. His thrusts were rough and faltering, which meant he was close to his orgasm too - you almost forgot you were close, totally enamoured by him and the way he spoke about you.  

“My slutty princess.”

You nodded with a smile, drunk on your lust for him. “All yours to use and destroy.”

You felt the pleasure built up again right behind your belly button and you knew you were close again. Spencer must’ve noticed it because he kept his pace quick, never changing the angle because he felt you clench hard around him each time he bottomed out. Your thighs were shaking around his waist and he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his fingertips. 

“My good girl.” - he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment - “I can feel you’re close. Do you want to come on my cock, princess?”

He didn’t need a verbal answer, because soon your cries of pleasure were enough. You widened your eyes and threw your head back onto the pillow, crying out his name over and over as your nails dug into his shoulders. He could feel his skin breaking under your nails but he didn’t care. 

Spencer was too enamoured with you to realise how painful your grip was. 

“That’s it, gorgeous. You did so well.” he rewarded you with a kiss on the lips 

You barely felt it, drunk on the pleasure that he fed you. Your whole body was shuddering as Spencer helped you ride out your orgasm, but the more he thrusted, the more pain you felt stabbing you. You didn’t complain, though. 

You wanted it, you needed it and so did he. 

“Does this pretty princess want my cum deep inside of her, hm?” Spencer asked

You weren’t sure he heard you, but you managed to choke out: “Yes. Please, please, fucking do it. Please.”

A few thrusts later, Spencer granted you your wish. His warmth flooded you from the inside as he watched the way his body become one with yours, shivering with pleasure. His right hand pressed down hard below your belly button and you winced, feeling his seed run deep if that was even possible. 

It felt so incredibly good you could almost come again. 

“Ah, that felt fucking perfect.”

You closed your arms around his neck and caged him against your body, so that he wouldn’t be able to run away. Not that he wanted to, of course, but. 

Spencer didn’t move for at least five good minutes, struggling to catch his own breath while you stared at the bedroom ceiling with a grin on your face. You were deeply satisfied with yourself and you were sure Spencer was content, as well - though the conversation between you wasn’t over. 

You knew that not putting on clothes would’ve distracted him and maybe that was exactly why you never put them on when he was around in your shared apartment. It was fun to see him struggling between staring at your breasts or at your thighs, or forgetting that he had to hang out with his colleagues because he was too busy burying his face in your cunt or fucking you against a window. 

It felt good to be desired, and it felt even better knowing that it was the only thing Spencer was able to think about when he was away from you. 

“You have to stop walking around our place naked.”

You put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him upward. Spencer was still lying between your legs, but he was staring at you. 

“Naked? I am always wearing my underwear.” you stated 

Spencer bumped the tip of his nose against yours. “Which is dangerously distracting, Y/N.”

“Oh, you’re using my name in a conversation.”

“I’m being serious, princess. I can’t get a boner whenever I’m near you.” - he explained, pressing a kiss on your jaw - “Believe me, I appreciate the sight but… My brain needs some rest. And so does my penis.”

“Okay, alright. I’ll do my best to keep my clothes on.” - I decided to give in - “After six weeks of pure hell, I think you deserve a break.”

Spencer kissed your cheek, before biting it softly. “I appreciate it, my princess.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it occasionally just to drive you crazy.” you warned him 

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” - he said, rolling off your body - “But give me a heads up before doing it, okay? I wouldn’t want to come home with Luke and find you in your underwear.”

“Well… it could be fun. Maybe he’d like to join…”

Spencer covered your mouth with his’ before you could finish your sentence, but the kiss was interrupted by your loud laugh echoing through the walls. 

“Alright, Luke will never see me like this.” - you gave him a peck on the lips, pushing him off you before he could spread your legs again - “This sight is for your eyes only.”

TAGLIST @blvebanisters @koukatsuki @moesdraft

BROKEN TAGS @alelaeljfj @donttrustlove

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 4.5k

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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good- 

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed. 

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things. 

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’ 

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics. 

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered. 

“Do all women take this long to get ready?” 

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf. 

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring. 

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous. 

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms. 

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited. 

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have. 

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction. 

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away. 

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth. 

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm. 

You waited. And waited. And waited. 

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand. 

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?  

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far. 

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket. 

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack. 

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm. 

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce. 

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement. 

“No.” 

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.” 

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest. 

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . .  spineless.” 

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he. 

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him. 

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you. 

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred. 

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice. 

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together. 

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . . 

Aimed at his throat. 

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him. 

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

 You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. .  . the natural musk of his skin. 

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin. 

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it. 

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own. 

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in. 

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you. 

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole. 

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with. 

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain. 

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it. 

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’ 

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft. 

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair. 

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire. 

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood. 

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now. 

“I wanted to.” You conceded. 

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused. 

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone. 

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably. 

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land. 

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now. 

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you. 

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you. 

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now. 

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating. 

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped. 

“Atreides.” 

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized. 

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . . 

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger. 

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier. 

He had been trying to warn you.

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

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the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!