#and at least half the time if not more i end up typing it wrong

[xiaowhore]

genshin men as shoujo tropes.

characters. neuvillette, wriothesley, & alhaitham.

note. in celebration of the shoujo renaissance (and also bc im having a hard time finishing the drafts i left half a year ago) i present to you the ideas i had while half-asleep this morning. i dunno if this will ever be a consistent series but here are the first 3! (heads up: female pronouns will be used in this fic!)

neuvilette ; the duke

it has to be said. he's the duke of the north.

you belong to an aristocratic family, but you're basically neglected due to being your father's illegitimate child with a maid and your younger sister is much better than you at every way there is. appearance, etiquette, and intellect—she is far more superior than you at these aspects. countless men ask for her hand in marriage, while none asks for yours.

but honestly, you didn't want to be wed to a noble. you dream of being a commoner, free from the clutches of your family who looks down on you and solely dotes on your sister. you could be a baker perhaps, since you've always had a hobby of making sweets.

yet your parents suddenly announce you're now engaged. and to the duke of the north, of all people! he has made a great contribution for the war against the monsters within the continent, but he is more known for his ruthlessness and harsh temperament. if you were to be his wife, what would happen to you? the duke holds a lot of power, but no one wants to marry him because they're all afraid of him, you included.

as you're being sent to his castle by carriage, you're already trying to comfort yourself. at least you're away from your family now. he couldn't possibly be worse than them. and as ruthless the rumors all say he is, duke neuvillette is not the type of man to beat a woman who has done no wrong.

your first dinner with him is completely silent. the clacking of cutlery pierces through the air, the only sound you can hear other than your heart rapidly pounding in your chest. your head is bowed, too fearful to meet him in the eye, but you can't help sneaking glances at him.

the duke doesn't appear in most events hosted by nobles, too busy defending his territory from monstrous creatures to attend. but you see now that those rumors about him being unsightly could not be any more false. his long hair drapes over his shoulders, not a strand out of place. his gaze is calculating, a fascinating blue you can't look away from, and his nose cuts a high angle—he'd look fetching if he wore glasses as he does paperwork. really... how could this man be your husband-to-be?

as you're busy worrying over how you shouldn't offend him and appreciating his appearance, neuvillette is trying his best to appear calm. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, whose hand was promised to him if he won against the dragon slumbering in the northern mountains. the woman he had yearned for years on end, the woman who gave him strength as he was on the verge of death during the war, the woman who doesn't remember him anymore—

but he promised you long ago he'll make you the happiest woman in the world, and he's intent on keeping his vows.

neuvilette may appear stoic, but he's nothing but sweet to you. he accompanies you at every opportunity he isn't busy with work, spoils you rotten, and makes you want for nothing. word spread throughout the land that duke neuvillette couldn't be any more smitten with his wife, erasing all rumors that claimed he was heartless. you were intimidated by him at the start, but as you spent more time with him, you learned that there was no reason to be.

...however, that only applies to you. although you never said it outright, neuvillette can tell your family didn't care for you properly. he already had reservations with them, and now he has other reasons to be angry.

when your sister comes to his residence and claims there was a “mix-up” in the marriage, that she should be the one wed to him and not you, he is furious.

but there's really only one ending for this story—after all, his heart only belongs to you.

wriothesley ; the bodyguard

you're the only granddaughter of a yakuza leader and wriothesley is your bodyguard who will protect you no matter what. (not claiming ‘a girl and her guard dog’ energy; there are plenty of other mangas who have this trope too.)

you're just an ordinary girl with a very extraordinary family but you want to live a normal life free of violence and keep your family background a secret. you beg your grandfather to let you attend classes at a normal school, and he allows you in one condition: wriothesley must be with you at all times.

so yeah. this tall and absolutely ripped guy is behind you every time you walk to school, in the corridors, on the way to the cafeteria, and the only time he isn't following you is when you go to the restroom.

very protective. never lets his guard down when you're talking to boys. doesn't understand what you see in the handsome guy that everyone likes when his looks aren't all that great (he's just jealous).

“let's go home. it's about time for the car to arrive... what do you mean you still have something to do? ...there's someone waiting for you at the rooftop? you found a love letter in your locker? ...i'll wait for you at the door.”

he does wait for you at the door, but he also tries to hear the conversation you're having. and maybe he scoffs a little when he sees the guy who's trying to vye for your attention, because clearly wriothesley worried for nothing.

there will be a lot of dangerous events involved (i.e. kidnapping for ransom, attempts to kill you as revenge, wriothesley's enemies trying to harm you because you're the person he loves etc.) but wriothesley will save you each time.

“i'm right here,” he says as he cradles you in his arms, hugging your trembling body. “you don't have to fear anything now.”

it's nothing serious. just a pathetic attempt at kidnapping by a bunch of idiots who want ransom money. you're safe and sound in the car, waiting for him to finish his business with the delinquents, but that fact doesn't make his anger fade at all. “if i see a single scratch on her, i'll kill you.”

his head is bleeding, dripping crimson over his right eye, but all he sees is your bound wrists, the bruise on your cheek, the blood on your lip. he's out of bullets. you're both surrounded by henchmen. he has a single blade in his pocket. still, he roars with uncontrollable rage, “no one touches her!”

(very important detail: he calls you “my lady.”)

alhaitham ; the nonchalant male lead

he's definitely the cold guy who's (at first) rude and blunt to the female lead.

you've liked him since you were kids. your moms are best friends and you live next door to each other. both of your parents seem convinced you're going to end up together, but he rejects every single one of your advances—not that it discourages you from trying again next time.

you try to walk to school with him even though he always goes to the library too early and you're the furthest thing from a morning person. you offer him the best parts of the lunchbox you cook for yourself. you give him a cold drink after gym class. you invite him out to the mall during the weekends to hang out. you doll yourself up everyday with cosmetics and accessories in hopes that he'll think you're pretty.

but alhaitham always just looks... disinterested. especially during dinners where both of your families are present and his mother teases him about dating you for what seems like the nth time that night.

and you know he's not obligated to like you back or anything. but you still want to get his attention. you want to improve yourself to get him to like you.

alhaitham may come across as cold-hearted, but he buys you bread from the convenience store on the way to school because he knows you missed breakfast just to go with him. he keeps an eye out for any stray balls hitting you during gym class because for some reason you attract them like a magnet. he often declines your offer to go outside during weekends, but he's willing to tutor you for the test scheduled next week.

so you like to think of yourself as someone special. because surely, he doesn't do these things for anyone else, right? you must be one of the closest people to his heart, right?

but then the pretty girl from the class next door confesses to him, and you think you've lost your chance. she's tall and gorgeous, her clothes are always the latest fashion, and you're pretty sure she's around the same student rankings as alhaitham. they're talking by the cherry blossom tree, and no one can hear what they're saying behind the wall you're hiding from in your quest to eavesdrop on them.

but then alhaitham leaves first, not giving her a single glance after what you assume to be a swift rejection. the girl isn't crying, but she looks a bit shocked as she returns to school, not expecting the turn of events.

your classmates don't even pretend to be decent; all of them are asking her what happened. “he says he's not interested in dating, that's all.”

and at that, you sigh in relief. even if you're not special to him now, no one else is either.

you don't notice her looking at you, envy burning in her gaze. she didn't say any lies—but she did omit something important.

“i think... i like someone now. the most important person to me.”

[earlgreylatte]

Nicknames and Pet Names

Hal Jordan: Listen, we all know he’s a ‘babe’ kind of guy, it’s an inherent part of his vocabulary. Will literally loudly call out ‘babe’ across the grocery store, he’s so annoying. And of course, he’ll make up a nickname uniquely for you, based on something like one of your hobbies or habits. If you’re a Blue Lantern, you’re ’blueberry’. Probably has called you ‘nightlight’ or ‘glowstick’ before. (Internalized Lantern hate…)

Barry Allen: ‘Honey’. When you wake up, when he’s leaving home or coming back, during sex, he will be calling you ‘honey’ in that affectionate tone, blue eyes soft and fond. So clear to literally everyone that he’s wrapped around your finger. The first thing you see in the morning is him bathed in sunlight while whispering ‘honey’ as he gently rouses you from your sleep. ‘Darling’ or ‘love’ are also likely to leave his lips around you.

Booster Gold: Definitely comes up with something based on your name, shortening it or making it cutesy, like adding ‘bear’ or ‘poo’ to end of your name. Definitely does it to irritate or embarrass you. His usual nickname for you will probably be the first letter or syllable of your name. He also likes your name just fine, the type to say it over and over to get your attention. You two probably call each other ‘babygirl’.

Ted Kord: To match the whole insect theme, I can definitely see him calling you ‘ladybug’ or ‘mayfly’. Also shortens your name to the first letter or syllable. To others, I can see him referring to you as something mushy like ‘light of his life’ just to make others cringe. If you have a hero history too, then he’ll definitely have a nickname based on that. You call him ‘Teddy’, of course.

Bruce Wayne: Mostly sticks to your name, but definitely a ‘darling’ guy, especially when he’s trying to calm you down or if he knows he did something to wrong you. As Brucie Wayne, definitely refers to you as ‘his better half’. Known as a ‘wife guy’ on social media.

Dick Grayson: His favourite thing to call you is your name, it’s one of his favourite words, really. Definitely refers to you as ‘beautiful’ and ‘prettygirl/prettyboy’. Definitely refers to you as his (‘my (name)’) and himself as yours.

Jason Todd: I can definitely see him occasionally calling you ‘my dear’ or ‘madam’ in a British accent in lighthearted moments, breaking into laughter when you do. ‘Babe’ in the streets, ‘love’ in the sheets kinda guy. If you’re even a centimetre shorter than him, he will call you ‘munchkin’.

Roy Harper: ‘Sweetheart’ is definitely his go to, but I can also see creating nicknames, such as ‘doe eyes’ or ‘birdie’ based on your traits or behaviour. Depending on your relationship, probably refers to you as ‘momma’ when talking about his household with other people (moms at the school pickup) (‘Lian’s mom actually said—‘)

Wally West: You wonder if he even knows your name sometimes with how many petnames he goes through. ‘Babe’, ‘gorgeous’, ‘sweetie’, ‘love’, ‘his lightning rod’, and he could go on! Makes the times when he does say your name more intimate

Kyle Rayner: Mostly calls you by your name, but he’s also the least likely to date a civilian, having periods where he doesn’t even want to be on Earth, so dating a fellow ring wielder, space traveller, or hero is more likely and will cause him to nickname you based on that (Lantern colour, alias, etc). The type to describe you in an artsy, romantic way to others, comparing you to an azure sky or to stars.

Masterlist

[foxtrology]

bette davis eyes (2)

harry castillo x reader

series

word count: 9.1k

warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader, fluff, smut.

Harry Castillo still didn’t know her name.

And it was driving him insane.

It had been three days.

Three days since he sat on the steps of The Met, seething over Lucy’s engagement only to stumble into a conversation with the most aggravating woman he had ever met.

Three days since she stepped out of his car.

"If you find me again, maybe I’ll say yes."

He had taken it as a challenge.

Of course he did.

He had spent years making impossible things happen. He had turned himself into one of the richest hedge fund managers in the country. He dictated the movement of money on Wall Street with a flick of his wrist. People waited months to get a meeting with him.

When he wanted something, he got it.

But he still didn’t know her goddamn name.

He had spent hours.

Hours, going through his friends’ Instagram followings, convinced that she had to be in there somewhere. She had been outside that party on those steps. That meant she knew someone.

Right?

Wrong.

Instead, all he got was accidentally following half a dozen people he didn’t even like and no clue how to unfollow them.

"You could just Google it," Danny had suggested, watching as Harry scrolled through Instagram with the confusion of a man trying to defuse a bomb.

"I shouldn’t have to Google basic fucking technology," Harry snapped.

Danny had just laughed. "This is why Lucy did everything for you."

Lucy.

Right.

Harry shut his phone off and tossed it onto the table like it had personally offended him.

He needed to let this go.

She was just a stranger.

A nobody.

But...

She wasn’t.

She was somebody, at least to him. Someone who had looked at him like he wasn’t some billionaire hedge fund manager but just a man sitting on the steps of The Met, sulking about his ex.

And that was risky.

Because for the first time in a long time he wanted to know more.

She was balancing a tray when she spotted him.

Harry Castillo.

Sitting at the corner of the high end Manhattan restaurant she was currently serving at, looking like he would rather die than be here.

Her grip on the tray tightened. No fucking way.

She had spent the last three days assuming she would never see him again.

Rich men didn’t go looking for strangers they met outside of parties. Not unless they had some weird obsession or a savior complex. And he didn’t seem like the type.

Yet, here he was.

Dark suit. Sharp jaw. Brooding like the miserable, wealthy asshole she suspected he was.

And worst of all—he didn’t see her.

Not yet.

She had to get out of here before he did.

Her name tag was visible.

If he saw it, if he recognized her—

"Table six, go," her manager barked, pointing toward the very table Harry was sitting at.

Fuck.

She briefly considered quitting her job on the spot. Just throwing her apron at the nearest wall and storming out.

But unfortunately, she had rent to pay.

So with a deep inhale, she straightened her shoulders, gripped the tray tighter, and walked straight toward him.

Harry wasn’t paying attention.

Not to the menu. Not to his surroundings.

His mind was still back in his office, replaying every attempt he had made to find her.

And failing.

His phone buzzed. Another news notification. Probably some article about the market or a New York Times op-ed about billionaires ruining the economy. He didn’t care.

Then—

A shadow passed over him.

Someone setting a drink down.

And before he even looked up—before his brain even processed it—he heard her voice.

“Whiskey neat.”

His head snapped up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

And there she was.

Standing right in front of him.

His breath hitched.

Her.

Her.

His eyes flicked to her name tag, sharp and laser focused.

Finally.

She saw where he was looking and immediately reached for it, ripping the tag off with a sharp tug before shoving it into her pocket.

“Not a chance,” she said, shaking her head.

His lips twitched.

“Afraid?”

“Of you?” She snorted, shifting the tray in her hands. “Not even a little.”

He exhaled, leaning back in his chair.

“You work here.”

She raised a brow. “Clearly.”

“You were at the Met party.”

“I was working the Met party.”

Realization dawned.

She wasn’t a guest. She wasn’t friends with anyone there.

She was a server.

A server.

Harry’s fingers tapped against the edge of his glass.

He didn’t know why that made something settle inside him. Maybe because it explained why she hadn’t given a shit about who he was. Maybe because it meant she wasn’t part of his world, wasn’t another socialite or heiress looking for an investment banker to marry.

Maybe because it meant that night was real.

“You’ve been looking for me.”

It wasn’t a question.

His eyes lifted to hers.

She was smirking.

She was amused.

And he hated how much he liked that.

Harry exhaled slowly. “Maybe.”

“Well. Now you found me.”

He studied her.

The restaurant bustled around them. The clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation, the scent of expensive wine and seared steak filling the air.

But none of it mattered.

Not when she was standing in front of him, arms crossed, head tilted, watching him like he was the one on display.

He reached for his drink, swirling the liquid before taking a slow sip.

Then—

“Have dinner with me.”

She blinked.

Paused.

Then laughed.

Again.

Like he had just told the funniest joke in the world.

Again.

“You really don’t like being told no, huh?”

His jaw ticked. “That’s not an answer.”

She tilted her head. “What do you think I’m gonna do? Take off my apron and sit down at your table? I’m working, Castillo.”

The way she said his name made something tighten in his chest.

Harry leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Then when do you get off?”

Her lips twitched.

“You gonna wait here all night?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

A pause.

“Fine.”

Harry’s brows lifted.

Her eyes flicked to the clock on the restaurant wall before settling back on him.

“I’m off in an hour.” She turned, already walking away. “Let’s see if you’re still here by then.”

He watched her go.

Watched as she weaved through tables, balancing drinks, chatting with customers, completely at ease.

And for the first time in three days—

He felt at ease.

Because this time, she wasn’t getting away.

Harry wasn’t a patient man.

He had built an empire on control, on precision, on the ability to anticipate movements before they happened. That was how he stayed ahead, how he won.

Yet here he was, sitting at a table in an upscale Manhattan restaurant waiting for a woman who barely spared him a second glance.

A woman whose name he still didn’t know.

He leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass, watching as she moved effortlessly through the restaurant.

She was good at her job.

Efficient, quick on her feet, balancing trays with ease.

And she smiled at customers.

Not the way she had smirked at him earlier. Not with that sharp edged amusement that made something itch beneath his skin.

No, these smiles were polite. Professional. A little forced, maybe, but nothing that suggested she was even remotely bothered by his presence.

It annoyed the hell out of him.

Because he was bothered.

She had been stuck in his head for three days.

And here she was, acting like their encounter meant nothing.

Like he meant nothing.

It was infuriating.

And intriguing.

And maybe—just maybe—exactly what he needed.

His fingers tapped against the rim of his glass.

An hour.

He could wait an hour.

Hell, he had waited longer for board meetings that didn’t even matter.

So he settled in.

And watched.

She could feel his eyes on her.

The weight of his gaze followed her everywhere.

She ignored it.

Or at least, she pretended to.

Because if she acknowledged it, if she met his gaze, if she let herself wonder why he was still sitting there—then she would have to admit that she cared.

And she didn’t.

Not really.

Not about Harry Castillo.

Not about his perfectly tailored suit or the way his dark eyes followed her every movement like she was some kind of puzzle he was determined to solve.

Not about the way her heart had kicked up just a little when she realized he had actually been looking for her.

Nope.

Didn’t care.

Not at all.

She refilled a wine glass at table twelve, smiled at a group of finance bros who didn’t deserve it, dodged her coworker carrying a tray of desserts, and did not look at the man still sitting at table six.

But she could feel him.

And it was driving her crazy.

Harry was losing his mind.

Every time she passed his table without sparing him a glance, something inside him tightened.

This was ridiculous.

He didn’t wait for people.

People waited for him.

He could leave right now. Get up, walk out, and be done with this whole thing.

But he wouldn’t.

Because she had said one hour.

And he was going to make sure she kept her word.

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

Buzzed again.

Danny.

Danny: Why are you ignoring my texts?

Danny: Did you figure out how to unfollow people yet or are you still stuck?

Danny: Are you seriously still looking for that girl?

Danny: …You are, aren’t you?

Danny: I hate you.

Danny: Text me when you’re done being pathetic.

Harry rolled his eyes and slid his phone facedown on the table.

The hour crawled by.

And then—

Finally—

She walked back toward his table.

Apron off. Jacket on. Bag slung over one shoulder.

Her shift was over.

And Harry sat up a little straighter.

“You actually waited.”

She didn’t sound surprised.

More amused.

Like she had expected him to wait but still found it funny.

He lifted a brow. “You said an hour.”

“And you’re a man who listens?”

“I can be.”

She huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Dangerous skill.”

Harry smirked. “You have no idea.”

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched.

It wasn’t a no.

Wasn’t a go home, Castillo.

It was something else.

Something better.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “So?”

“So.”

“What now?”

Harry exhaled, watching her carefully.

She was testing him.

Waiting to see if he was serious.

If he was worth the trouble.

And Harry Castillo never backed down from a challenge.

“Dinner,” he said simply.

She arched a brow. “You just ate.”

“You were working. I don’t eat alone.”

She crossed her arms. “That’s a dumb rule.”

He shrugged. “It’s my rule.”

She stared at him for a long moment.

Then—

“Fine.”

A single word.

But it sent something sharp and victorious rushing through his chest.

He stood, pulling a few crisp hundreds from his wallet and tossing them onto the table without a second glance.

She eyed the money but didn’t say anything.

Just turned on her heel and walked toward the door.

Harry followed.

The wind cut sharp against his skin as they stepped out onto the Manhattan sidewalk, the world around them alive with the hum of the city at night. A taxi honked a block away, a couple laughed as they passed, and the crisp scent of winter curled into the air.

She shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her body.

Harry didn’t shiver.

He barely felt the cold.

His eyes flicked toward her, noting the way she huddled into herself slightly, as if suddenly self conscious. She had been confident inside the restaurant sharp, unbothered, teasing—but now, beneath the glow of the streetlights, something in her had shifted.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She scoffed. “You think I’m just gonna tell you that?”

His jaw twitched.

She was impossible.

And yet, somehow, he found himself waiting for her answer anyway.

She sighed, exhaling into the cold air. “It’s just…I just got off a shift. I’m not exactly dressed for whatever expensive place you’re about to drag me to.”

Harry blinked.

Then looked her over.

Dark jeans. A fitted black sweater. Scuffed up ballet flats.

She looked fine.

Better than fine.

She looked real.

She looked like her.

And that, he realized, was the problem.

She didn’t belong in his world.

Didn’t fit into the mold of women he was usually seen with.

She wasn’t draped in designer. She didn’t have a last name people recognized. She didn’t float through life with the quiet, effortless privilege of someone born into money.

But she was still the most interesting person he had met in years.

And that was dangerous.

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “I don’t care.”

She blinked up at him.

“What?”

“I don’t care what you’re wearing.”

She hesitated.

Her eyes searched his, looking for—what? Lies? Pity? Some hidden agenda?

She wouldn’t find any of those.

He had none to give.

Instead, he tilted his head. “Are you hungry or not?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just worked a ten hour shift. What do you think?”

His lips twitched.

Without another word, he turned and started walking.

And after a beat—she followed.

To her surprise, Harry didn’t take her somewhere suffocatingly high end.

No pretentious Michelin starred establishment. No reservations only steakhouse with white tablecloths and chandeliers worth more than her apartment.

God, her roommate was in for a treat when she gets home.

Instead, they ended up at a cozy, tucked away bistro on a quiet side street. The kind of place that didn’t have a dress code. The kind of place where people actually talked instead of posing for Instagram photos.

She narrowed her eyes as she followed him inside. “How do you even know about a place like this?”

Harry didn’t answer.

Of course he didn’t.

Instead, he pulled out a chair for her like some old fashioned gentleman and waited for her to sit.

She hesitated, lips twitching in amusement. “Wow. Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

He ignored that too.

She sat.

He took the seat across from her.

A waiter appeared almost instantly.

Harry ordered whiskey.

She ordered a glass of wine.

She knew her wine, he'll give her that.

And then—for the first time since they met—there was silence.

Not uncomfortable silence.

But silence nonetheless.

She leaned back in her chair, watching him.

Harry was hard to read.

Brooding. Intense. Reserved.

The kind of man who looked like he had a thousand thoughts running through his head but no intention of saying any of them out loud.

The kind of man who could crush someone with a single, well calculated decision in his office during the day and then sit across from her in a dimly lit restaurant at night like none of it mattered.

She tapped her fingers against the table. “So, are you gonna ask me anything? Or are we just gonna sit here and stare at each other?”

Harry’s brow lifted slightly.

“I don’t ask questions I don’t care about the answers to.”

She blinked.

Then huffed out a small laugh. “Jesus. You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She rolled her eyes and took a sip of wine.

He watched her over the rim of his own glass, studying the way she moved.

She wasn’t nervous.

She wasn’t trying to impress him.

And he hated how much he liked that.

She started talking first.

Not because he asked.

But because she wanted to.

“So, what do you think I do?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand.

Harry took a slow sip of whiskey. “You’re a server.”

She smirked. “Wow. Good job, detective.”

His jaw twitched. “That’s not a real question.”

“Fine. How long have I been doing it?”

He studied her.

Noticed the way she held herself, the way she had moved through the restaurant earlier, the way she hadn’t hesitated when her manager snapped at her.

“Years,” he said simply.

Her smirk faltered.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Since I was nineteen.”

Something flickered in her eyes.

Something he didn’t understand.

Didn’t push.

But still—he noticed.

She exhaled, rolling her wine glass between her fingers. “It wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”

Harry’s fingers drummed against the table. “It never is.”

She lifted a brow. “You say that like you know.”

He didn’t answer.

Because he did know.

But he didn’t talk about it.

Didn’t talk about the nights he spent as a kid listening to his mother cry in the next room because she didn’t have the money for rent.

Didn’t talk about how she had worked three jobs just to keep food on the table.

Didn’t talk about how she got sick.

How the bills stacked up.

How money would have saved her.

But he didn’t say any of that.

He never did.

She watched him for a moment, like she was trying to figure him out.

Then she leaned back in her chair, lips curling slightly. “You don’t talk much, huh?”

Harry exhaled. “Not if I can help it.”

She grinned. “Well, lucky for you, I talk enough for the both of us.”

And she did.

She told him about the worst customers she’d ever had. The ridiculous things people asked for at restaurants. The way rich men treated servers like they were invisible.

She didn’t include him in that category.

And for some reason, that mattered.

She laughed at her own stories.

Harry didn’t laugh.

But he listened.

More than he should have.

More than he ever did.

She didn’t push him to share.

Didn’t ask him about his life, his money, his past.

She just talked.

And it was the first time in a long time that Harry didn’t mind someone filling the silence.

When their food came, she didn’t pick at it like the women he usually dined with.

She ate.

Finished her entire burger.

Made a satisfied noise as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

Harry’s lips twitched. He wanted to smile. But he didn't.

By the time they left the restaurant, it was late.

The air was even colder now, the city quieter.

She shoved her hands into her pockets. “Alright, big shot. Where’s your driver?”

Harry exhaled, glancing down the street.

James was waiting, parked at the curb.

But for some reason—

For some stupid reason—

He didn’t want the night to end yet.

So instead of answering, he met her gaze.

And said, “Let’s walk.”

She blinked.

Then nodded.

“Okay.”

And just like that—

Harry Castillo found himself walking through the city with a woman he barely knew.

And, for once, he didn’t hate it.

The streets of Manhattan were quieter at this hour.

The usual chaos—the honking taxis, the chatter of impatient pedestrians, the ever present hum of a city that never slept had settled into something softer. The streetlights cast golden pools of light on the pavement and every now and then, a stray gust of wind sent a flurry of dry leaves skittering across the sidewalk.

She walked beside him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, her unhurried.

Harry had no idea where they were going.

She was talking again, the words flowing effortlessly, her voice filling the quiet space between them like it belonged there.

“I don’t know how people live alone in this city,” she mused, her breath visible in the cold air. “I mean, sure if you’re a billionaire hedge fund guy, then yeah, easy. But for the rest of us mortals? Forget it.”

Harry glanced at her. “So you have a roommate.”

She huffed out a small laugh. “More like a personal angel disguised as a roommate.”

His brow lifted slightly.

She kicked a small pebble across the pavement as they walked. “Her name’s Maya and she’s the only reason I can even afford to be in New York. She’s an artist—one of those ridiculously talented people who’s always sketching on napkins or leaving paint stains on everything.”

Harry hummed, tucking his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. “And she sells her work?”

“Oh, yeah. To people like you,” she teased, smirking up at him.

His jaw flexed slightly. “Like me?”

She shrugged. “Rich. Intimidating. Definitely the type to spend five grand on a painting because some gallery curator convinced you it was ‘evocative of the human condition.’”

Harry let out a sharp exhale, something just short of a laugh. “I don’t buy art.”

She gave him a pointed look. “So you just have blank walls in your penthouse?”

He hesitated.

She gasped, dramatic. “Oh my God, you do!”

His jaw twitched. “I don’t see the point.”

She groaned, shaking her head. “That is actually the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

Harry smirked slightly. “Maya sounds lucky to have you as her publicist.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not her publicist. Just her number one fan. And her unpaid assistant, apparently, because every time she has a gallery showing, I end up playing bartender.”

“You work events for her?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, I mean... I don’t want to be useless.”

Harry frowned slightly at that. “You’re not useless.”

She blinked up at him, something flickering behind her expression like maybe she wasn’t used to hearing that.

She recovered quickly, exhaling through her nose. “Try telling that to the people who snap their fingers at me when they want a refill.”

Harry’s jaw tightened.

There was something about that, about the idea of her being treated like she was nothing, about people looking past her like she didn’t matter.

That irritated him more than it should have.

But he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he glanced over at her, taking her in.

Her hair was slightly tousled from the wind, strands curling around her face. The dim glow of the streetlights softened her features, casting a warm hue against her skin. She looked…

Gorgeous.

Pretty.

She caught him staring and arched a brow. “What?”

Harry looked straight ahead. “Nothing.”

She huffed a small laugh, bumping her shoulder lightly against his. “You’re weird.”

“Good to know.”

She grinned but didn’t push it.

They kept walking.

They hadn’t planned on stopping anywhere, but when she spotted a small, hole in the wall coffee shop still open, she made a beeline for it.

Harry watched as she pressed her hands against the glass, peering inside like a kid outside a toy store.

She turned back to him, eyes bright. “I need something warm.”

Harry exhaled. “You could’ve just said that.”

She grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He sighed but followed her inside anyway.

The shop was small, filled with the comforting scent of coffee and fresh pastries. A tired looking barista was wiping down the counter, clearly ready to close up for the night but she bounced up to the register without hesitation.

“One hot chocolate, please.”

Harry stared. “Hot chocolate?”

She flashed him a look. “What?”

“You’re a grown woman.”

“Wow, ageism?” she gasped. “How very hedge fund of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hot chocolate is for children.”

She smirked. “And yet, I bet I’m gonna enjoy my drink way more than whatever depressing black coffee you’re about to order.”

Harry clenched his jaw.

Then turned to the barista.

“…Make it two.”

She lit up.

Not a smirk, not a teasing quip...just a genuine, unfiltered grin. “See? You’re not completely soulless after all.”

Harry huffed but said nothing.

They sat by the window, watching the street outside as their drinks cooled.

She took the first sip and sighed dramatically. “Oh my God."

Harry lifted a brow but took a sip of his own.

It was…warm. Smooth. A little too sweet.

Not terrible.

She grinned at him over the rim of her cup. “You love it.”

He set his cup down. “I tolerate it.”

She snorted. “Liar.”

Harry exhaled, shaking his head.

He was lying.

But he wasn’t about to admit that to her.

By the time they finally made it to her place, it was late.

The entrance to her building was old but well kept, tucked into a quieter side street. The kind of place that probably had thin walls and a temperamental landlord.

She stopped at the door, turning to face him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then—

“You gonna be weird about this?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Harry tilted his head slightly. “Weird about what?”

She smirked. “You look like the kind of guy who doesn’t walk a woman home unless he’s expecting to come up.”

His jaw clenched. “I wasn’t—”

She grinned, cutting him off. “Relax. I’m messing with you.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Hilarious.”

She stepped back, pressing her shoulder against the doorframe. “But hey…thanks. For dinner. And the hot chocolate.”

Harry held her gaze.

She was looking at him like she wasn’t sure what to make of him yet.

Like she hadn’t quite figured him out.

And that, somehow, made him want to see her again.

Before he could say anything, she yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

“You gonna try to find me again?”

His jaw tightened.

But his lips twitched.

“I already did once.”

She hummed, tilting her head. “Then maybe next time, I’ll let you find out something about me.”

Harry exhaled.

He should have left.

Should have walked away.

But instead, he lingered just long enough to watch her disappear into the building, just long enough to hear her footsteps fade.

And then, finally—

He turned.

And walked away.

He still didn't get her name.

But he knew where to find her.

Harry had gone back to the restaurant.

But she wasn’t there.

Two days.

Two entire days of walking into that overpriced Manhattan restaurant, sitting at the same damn table, ordering the same damn whiskey neat, only for some random server—not her—to take his order.

It was infuriating.

He didn’t know her name.

Didn’t have her number.

Didn’t know anything except where she lived.

And that made something settle in his chest that he wasn’t ready to examine.

Danny noticed.

Of course he did.

“You’re sulking,” he said, lazily swirling his cocktail at their usual bar.

Harry scowled. “I don’t sulk.”

Danny smirked. “Right. You just glare at your drink like it owes you money.”

Harry clenched his jaw.

Then exhaled sharply. “She’s not at work.”

Danny blinked. Then grinned. “Oh my God, you are sulking.”

Harry resisted the urge to throw his whiskey at him.

Instead, he pulled out his phone and stared at her building’s address for the fiftieth time.

Danny sighed, tilting his head. “You know, if you really wanted to, you could—”

“I’m not hiring a private investigator,” Harry muttered.

Danny huffed. “I was gonna say Google it. Jesus, man.”

Harry scowled.

But he did Google it.

Or rather, he, Danny, and James—his driver, the only person in his life with more patience than a saint—spent two hours tracking down any lead they could.

It was a long, painful process.

But finally—Maya.

Maya Klein.

Her roommate.

Her best friend.

Her very online best friend.

It wasn’t hard to find her art portfolio.

Okay, maybe it was a little hard.

But after squinting through three different Instagram accounts, a Tumblr page, and a very outdated LinkedIn profile, they found it.

And in bold, clean font on her website—

GALLERY SHOWING TOMORROW.

TRIBECA

8PM-11PM

Harry leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against his desk.

“She bartends for her friend’s events,” he murmured.

Danny’s brows lifted. “And you’re planning on showing up.”

Harry exhaled. “I want to see her again.”

Danny smirked. “Wow. You’re down bad.”

Harry ignored him.

He stuck out like a sore thumb the moment he stepped inside.

Danny, of course, fit right in. Already drifting off into the crowd, chatting up a woman in a fringed leather jacket holding a glass of something overpriced.

James had stayed outside, leaning against the Maybach with a cigarette between his fingers, avoiding any part of this ridiculous endeavor.

And Harry?

Harry stood in the middle of an art gallery, surrounded by people who clearly hated him.

The walls were filled with abstract pieces. Raw depictions of capitalism and greed, of money and power and the corruption that came with it.

A statement.

A big fuck you to billionaires.

A big fuck you to him.

And here he was—one of the richest men in the country—standing in the middle of it.

He definitely stuck out.

Eyes flickered toward him.

Some curious. Some amused.

But most?

Judgmental.

Harry sighed.

Danny was gonna love this.

He scanned the room.

And then—

He saw her.

Behind the bar.

Her hair pulled back in a clip, sleeves rolled up, effortlessly balancing bottles and glasses, moving like she had done this a million times.

His jaw unclenched.

Something settled inside him.

Something he didn’t have the time—or patience—to name.

He walked over.

She didn’t see him at first.

Not until he was standing right in front of her.

Then—

Her eyes lifted.

And froze.

Her fingers stilled over the cocktail shaker, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

Then, slow and deliberate...

She smirked.

“You again.”

Harry exhaled. “Me again.”

She hummed, setting the shaker down. “Didn’t peg you for an art guy.”

“I’m not.”

Her smirk widened. “So you’re here for the free drinks?”

He tilted his head. “No.”

Her lips pressed together, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Then why are you here?”

Harry held her gaze.

And then—

She sighed, shaking her head.

“You really don’t like answering questions, do you?”

He exhaled. “You weren’t at work.”

Her brows lifted slightly.

Harry leaned forward, resting his hands against the bar. “I noticed.”

Her expression softened just for a second.

Then she sighed, rolling her eyes. “My legs gave out.”

His jaw tensed. “What?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “It happens. I overworked myself too much. I needed a break.”

His fingers curled against the bar.

Harry didn’t like that.

Didn’t like the idea of her pushing herself until she physically collapsed.

Didn’t like the fact that she was still working tonight.

Didn’t like any of it.

She noticed.

“You’re brooding.”

“I don’t brood.”

She arched a brow. “You definitely brood.”

Harry exhaled sharply.

She smirked.

Then casually, she grabbed a napkin, scribbled something on it, and slid it across the bar.

He frowned. “What’s this?”

She smiled.

“My name.”

His fingers brushed the paper.

His jaw flexed.

Finally.

Finally.

Then—

Across the room, a conversation caught his ear.

Loud. Purposeful. Like it was meant for him to hear.

It definitely was meant for him to hear.

“I don’t understand how these people live with themselves.”

Harry’s fingers stilled.

He turned slightly, gaze narrowing at a group gathered near one of the paintings.

“They show up, throw their money around, act like they’re saving the industry when they’re the ones who ruined it in the first place.”

Another voice chimed in. “It’s capitalism at its finest.”

Harry exhaled through his nose.

Same conversation. Different setting.

Nothing he hadn’t heard before.

He should have ignored it.

But then—

Then, he heard her.

Her voice.

Sharp. Defiant.

“You do realize the only reason these paintings are selling at all is because of the people you hate, right?”

Silence.

Harry blinked.

His gaze snapped back to her.

She wasn’t looking at him.

She was facing them, eyes narrowed, jaw set.

The guy—some twenty-something in a turtleneck—sputtered. “That’s not the—”

“No, go ahead,” she said, tilting her head. “Explain to me how you think art survives without the rich. Who do you think is buying these paintings? Who do you think is keeping galleries open? I’ll wait.”

The group shifted uncomfortably.

Harry smirked.

The guy scoffed. “That’s not the point.”

She arched a brow. “Then what is the point?”

More silence.

She exhaled. “Look, I get it. The system’s fucked. But if you really hate capitalism so much then maybe don’t take a paycheck from a company that thrives on it.”

The guy’s face turned red.

Then, huffing, he spun on his heel and walked away.

Harry exhaled through his nose.

And when she turned back to him—

He was looking at her.

Really looking at her.

She raised a brow. “What?”

Harry’s jaw ticked.

Then, slow—steady—

He reached for the napkin with her name.

Folded it.

Slipped it into his pocket.

“Nothing,” he murmured.

And, for the first time in months—

Harry Castillo smiled.

Actually let out a smile.

It was a rare thing. Unpracticed. A little uneven.

And it caught her off guard so much she forgot to breathe for a second.

That smile.

The real kind, not the smirk, not the polite billionaire press photo kind. It was all quiet softness and amusement, like a secret between the two of them. It was the kind of smile you could fall into if you weren’t careful.

“Wow,” she murmured, recovering. “You do know how to do that.”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter, but he said nothing.

Typical.

The gallery began to thin out as the night wore on. Coats were retrieved from racks, the sound of shoes echoed across the polished concrete floor, and people began floating toward the exit in clumps, cheeks flushed from wine and conversations.

Harry stayed.

He didn’t know why he stayed.

He could’ve left after thirty minutes like most of the other well dressed nuts in the room. But something about the way she moved behind the bar—tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, laughing quietly when Maya came over to whisper something in her ear—held him in place.

She kept sneaking glances at him too.

Never long. Never obvious.

But enough.

He stayed perched in a corner, away from the art critics and the performative intellectuals with their wine sick grins and disdain for everything they secretly wanted. He watched her wipe down glasses and stack them methodically, her body moving slower than usual now, more deliberate. Her energy was dwindling down.

She was tired.

Exhausted, actually.

He could see it in the way her shoulders sagged when she thought no one was watching.

Around midnight, the final few stragglers filtered out. Maya was surrounded by compliments, champagne, and laughter as she waved people goodbye. She was magnetic.

But Harry’s focus was only on one person.

Her.

She was drying a wine glass with a rag that had seen better days when he approached the bar again.

“You’re still here?” she asked without looking up.

“I tend to see things through.”

She scoffed. “That doesn’t sound exhausting at all.”

Harry didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his coat and placed something on the bar. A lemon ginger lozenge.

She stared at it. “What is this?”

“You’ve been clearing your throat for the last hour. Thought you might be getting sick.”

She blinked.

And then quietly, “Thanks.”

He nodded once. “You ready to go?”

She furrowed her brows. “Go?”

“You were going to walk home, weren’t you?”

“I—” She hesitated. “Yeah. I was.”

“Not happening.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Harry—”

“Maya said she’s having people over.”

Her mouth opened. “She what?”

As if on cue, Maya bounced over, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. “There you are! Just wanted to let you know we’re having a tiny get together back at the apartment. You’re coming, right?”

She forced a smile. “Yeah…totally.”

Maya beamed. “Perfect! I’ll see you there!” And just like that, she twirled away in her silk pants and heeled boots like a whirlwind of chaos and charm.

Harry looked at her, quiet.

“You don’t want to go,” he said plainly.

She paused. “No, I mean—I don’t mind—”

“You need rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re exhausted.”

She made a face. “Thanks.”

“It wasn’t an insult.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It was. You’ve been on your feet all night and still managed to argue with an entire table of art anarchists without flinching.”

She blinked. “You were listening?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m observant.”

Something warm crept up her neck. “That’s actually…kind of sweet.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Still is.”

He exhaled, glancing toward the door. “Let me take you somewhere quiet.”

She looked at him carefully. "Okay." She nodded.

Harry smiled. “Come on.”

As they walked toward the exit, a low whistle echoed across the room.

“Ooooh, look who’s leaving together,” Danny called out, arm slung lazily around a girl wearing metallic eyeshadow and an alarming amount of lip gloss.

Harry cringed visibly. “Ignore him.”

“Oh, I planned on it,” she muttered, quickening her step.

Outside, James was leaning against the Maybach, his cigarette burning low between his fingers.

He straightened when he saw them. “Evening,” he said coolly, holding the door open without a single question.

Once inside the car, she leaned her head against the window, legs tucked beneath her. The car purred beneath them as it slid through the streets like a shadow.

“You always have a driver?” she asked after a moment.

“Yes.”

“Even when you’re just, like…getting groceries?”

Harry looked at her. “Do I look like I get groceries?”

She snorted. “Fair.”

He glanced at her again. “Do you want me to take you home?”

She paused. Her apartment would be loud. Crowded. Too many people, too much laughter, and she was tired.

Bone tired.

“I…wouldn’t mind going somewhere quiet,” she said softly.

Harry didn’t reply. Just gave James a nod. And James didn’t need to be told twice.

The car ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. The city lights flickered through the windows as they sped through Manhattan, the hum of the engine steady beneath them.

She was curled up in the passenger seat, head resting against the cool glass, eyes flickering between exhaustion and quiet thought.

Harry didn’t say anything. Didn’t push.

He liked the silence with her.

When they finally pulled up to his building, James barely looked surprised. He simply put the car in park, gave Harry a knowing look and muttered, “Have a good night, sir.”

Harry ignored him.

She hesitated when the elevator doors opened, glancing up at him.

“You sure about this?” she murmured.

Harry met her gaze. “You need rest.”

She exhaled. “You’re really committed to this whole taking care of me thing, huh?”

Harry didn’t answer. Just stepped into the elevator.

After a beat—she followed.

The penthouse was quiet when they entered.

It was huge.

Dimly lit, the skyline of Manhattan stretching out before them through the floor to ceiling windows. She looked around, taking in the sleek design, the impossibly neat kitchen, the pristine furniture.

Then—

“You really don’t have anything on the walls.”

Harry exhaled. “We’ve been over this.”

She smirked. “Still depressing.”

Harry ignored her, shrugging off his coat before turning to her.

“Go take a bath.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

Harry huffed. “You need to relax.”

She scoffed. “I’m fine.”

He raised a brow. “You’ve been on your feet for how many hours straight. Worked so long your legs gave out.”

She rolled her eyes. “I said I’m fine.”

Harry’s jaw clenched.

Then, slowly, pointedly, he turned and started walking toward the bathroom.

“What are you—”

“Follow me.”

Against her better judgment—she did.

The bathroom was nothing short of luxurious.

A massive tub sat beneath a soft glowing light, marble countertops lining the space. The air smelled faintly of something expensive, probably whatever soap billionaires used.

Harry turned on the water, letting the tub fill, steam curling into the air.

She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “You really think I’m about to take a bath?”

Harry gave her a look. “Yes.”

She scoffed. “Why?”

“Because you deserve to rest.”

Something flickered in her expression.

Soft. Unreadable.

Harry stepped back, nodding toward the tub. “Take your time.”

She hesitated.

Then—finally—sighed. “Fine.”

Harry nodded once before leaving the room.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the tub, at the ridiculous luxury of it all.

Then—she caught sight of the robe hanging by the sink.

A man’s robe.

His.

She swallowed.

Slowly, she peeled off her clothes, stepping into the warm water letting the heat soak into her muscles, melting the exhaustion from her bones.

She leaned back, closing her eyes.

And then—

She caught the scent of something in the air.

His shampoo.

His body wash.

Without thinking, she reached for the bottle, pouring a small amount into her palm before lathering it into her hair.

She didn’t know why she did it.

Didn’t know why the idea of smelling like him made something tighten in her chest.

But she didn’t stop.

Not until the scent of Harry Castillo was wrapped around her.

The warmth from the bath had seeped into her bones, leaving her skin flushed, her limbs loose.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt good.

Not just better—good.

Rested.

Weightless.

And wrapped in the scent of him.

She exhaled slowly, fingers dragging through her damp hair as she stepped out of the tub. Water dripped from her skin, soaking into the thick, plush bath mat beneath her feet.

She reached for the robe hanging by the door.

His robe.

It was heavy, rich, expensive fabric, meant for a man built like Harry.

She pulled it on anyway, wrapping herself in it, feeling swallowed whole by the warmth of something that belonged to him.

Something about that made her stomach twist.

Not in a bad way.

Not in a way she could name.

She let her fingers toy with the fabric as she padded quietly out of the bathroom, stepping into the dim glow of his penthouse.

Harry was waiting.

Not in a way that was obvious, but in a way that was distinctly him.

His posture was casual, leaning against the back of his couch, one hand resting lightly on the armrest. He had changed, too—no longer in his suit jacket, just his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the veins in his forearms, the carefully restrained tension in his body.

His gaze flickered over her, slow like he was taking his time, committing every detail to memory.

She knew what he saw.

Bare legs peeking out from beneath his robe. Damp hair curling against her collarbone. The softened edges of her normally sharp expression.

And for once—

For once, she let him look.

She watched his throat bob slightly, something unreadable flashing behind his eyes before he exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Come here.”

Her lips twitched. “Bossy.”

He didn’t deny it. Just waited.

She crossed the room, bare feet pressing against the smooth floor, stopping when she was just a few inches away.

Harry’s hands curled into fists against the couch for a second, like he was fighting the urge to touch her.

Then without a word he turned, disappearing into his bedroom.

She blinked, startled.

Then—

He came back.

With clothes.

A pair of sweatpants.

A plain black T-shirt.

Things that were clearly his, judging by the size of them.

He handed them to her, jaw tight. “Put these on.”

She took them, amused. “You actually own sweatpants?”

Harry exhaled through his nose, running a hand along his jaw. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t sleep in a tux.”

She grinned. “Shocking.”

He said nothing.

Just watched as she took the bundle of clothing and walked back toward the bathroom to change.

His sweatpants hung low on her hips, the waistband tied in a loose knot to keep them from slipping. The shirt was too big, drowning her frame, the fabric worn in and soft against her skin.

It felt like being wrapped in him.

Warmth lingered in the cotton, in the faint scent of his cologne. Something expensive.

She padded barefoot through the penthouse, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the shirt. The city glittered outside the floor to ceiling windows.

Everything about this place was so immaculate. So clean. So structured. It screamed of control—of a man who ruled his world with precision.

But the moment she entered it some of that control seemed to slip.

She could feel it in the way Harry watched her, the way his fingers twitched when she walked past him, as if resisting the urge to reach out and keep her close.

She stopped in front of the window, arms crossing over her chest, her breath fogging slightly against the cool glass. “You can see everything from here.”

Harry was behind her, watching her quietly. “You like it?”

She exhaled, eyes scanning the skyline. “Yeah. But…”

His brow lifted slightly. “But?”

She hesitated. Then with a small teasing smirk, she turned to face him. “It’s kinda depressing that you live up here all alone.”

Harry’s jaw twitched. “I’m fine.”

She huffed. “That’s what all lonely people say.”

His lips curved just slightly, something almost amused flickering behind his sharp gaze. “And you’re an expert on loneliness?”

She shrugged, moving closer, the fabric of his shirt swaying against her thighs. “I know what it looks like.”

Harry watched her approach, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “And what do I look like?”

She tilted her head, scanning him playfully. “Like a very, very rich man who doesn’t know what to do with himself outside of work.”

Harry huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Accurate.”

She grinned, victorious. “Told you.”

For a moment they just stood there.

Him watching her.

Her watching him.

The silence between them wasn’t empty.

It was heavy. Charged.

Harry’s gaze flickered to her legs, to the way his sweatpants hung off her frame, the fabric pooling at her ankles. Then to the curve of her hip, the way his T-shirt stretched over her body, swallowing her whole.

Something deep and dangerous stirred in his chest.

She looked good like this.

Too good.

Her chin tilted up, eyes meeting his. “You really don’t talk much, do you?”

His hand lifted, brushing her damp hair back behind her ear. His touch was light, barely there, but it made her breath catch.

His fingers trailed lower, down her jaw, grazing the edge of her throat.

She swallowed.

His voice was deep when he finally spoke. “I say what matters.”

Her lips parted slightly, something unspoken hanging between them.

She felt it before she realized what she was doing.

The way her body leaned into his.

The way his fingers skimmed over the fabric of his shirt against her skin, so close, yet still too far.

His touch was careful.

Like he was memorizing her.

She exhaled shakily. “You keep looking at me like that.”

Harry’s thumb brushed over her hip. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure something out.”

“I am.”

She blinked. “What?”

Harry’s hand slid lower, fingers teasing along the edge of his sweatpants on her frame. His voice was softer this time, almost dangerous.

“If I can control myself.”

Her breath hitched.

She wasn’t sure who moved first.

Maybe it was him. Maybe it was her.

But suddenly—

They weren’t talking anymore.

His lips crashed against hers, urgent and deep, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against him. She gasped into his mouth, fingers tangling in the fabric of his dress shirt as he devoured her.

The world blurred.

She barely registered the way he picked her up, his hands firm around her thighs as he hoisted her up, murmuring quietly against her ear, “Jump.”

And she did.

Wrapped her legs around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He carried her through the penthouse with effortless strength, like she weighed nothing, like holding her close was something he’d done a thousand times before.

And then—

He walked her backward towards his bed, his mouth never leaving her skin, breath warm against her jaw.

The mattress hit the backs of her knees, sending her falling onto it in a slow, melting sprawl of limbs and want.

The soft silk duvet caught her, cool against the fever of her skin, her hair spilling across his impossibly expensive sheets. The room was dim but warm, the city humming just beyond the glass windows, the skyline glittering like a thousand secrets no one else would ever know.

Harry stood above her, his breathing deeper now, his eyes locked onto her like he was trying to memorize the moment. Like she was a painting he hadn’t expected to fall in love with.

She propped herself up on her elbows, staring back. Waiting. Wanting.

Harry’s fingers moved to his collar first. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, revealing inch after inch of warm, lived in skin beneath it. He wasn’t carved like marble—wasn’t the chiseled fantasy that Hollywood sold in glossy posters.

He was real.

His chest was broad, his arms strong but not perfect. Age spots dotted his skin like constellations, a faint scar ran along the side of his ribs, and when his shirt slipped off his shoulders, she saw the slight softness of his belly.

A pouch.

Honest. Natural. Human.

And when her eyes lingered there—he froze.

She could tell.

The way his breath caught. The flicker of hesitation in his brow.

He was used to being looked at like a power figure. A man in suits. Behind desks. Holding titles and leverage.

But being seen like this?

Like a man—just a man—baring everything? That was different.

She sat up slowly, still watching him. She didn’t say anything, didn’t tease, didn’t fill the space with false comfort.

She just reached for him.

Her fingers skimmed across the skin of his abdomen, soft and warm beneath her touch, and she whispered, “Come here.”

Something in him shifted.

Like maybe he believed her.

That she wanted all of him.

He slid out of his slacks, slow and deliberate, leaving him in nothing but his briefs for a moment before they, too, joined the pile of fabric on the floor.

Then he reached for her.

She let him.

His hands were careful when they peeled off her borrowed T-shirt, pulling it over her head and dropping it aside. Then her body lifted instinctively as he slid the sweatpants down her hips, revealing soft skin, flushed and ready beneath him.

Now they were skin to skin.

Warm and real.

Harry hovered over her, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he held himself above her, his gaze moving slowly down her body.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Just like that.

No flourish. No performance.

Just a truth that had been sitting in his chest since the moment he first saw her.

She reached up and cupped his jaw, her thumb brushing just beneath his lip. “So are you.”

His breath hitched.

And then he kissed her.

Not rough. Not greedy.

Deep.

Warm.

Slow.

The kind of kiss that says I see you. I feel you. I’m here.

His hands roamed her body like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to touch first—her ribs, her hips, the soft curve of her breast beneath his palm.

And then—

He began to slide lower.

Kissing down her neck.

Dragging his lips across her collarbone.

Sinking further and further until he was kneeling between her thighs, the backs of his hands brushing gently along the insides of her legs, coaxing them apart like he was opening something sacred.

She was already breathing heavy, already undone just from the look in his eyes.

He settled between her legs like he belonged there.

And maybe—he did.

He didn’t dive in like a man with something to prove. He took his time.

Let her feel his breath first.

The heat of his mouth pressing gentle, almost shy kisses to her thighs.

Then—

He licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her center, groaning low when he tasted her.

Like she was the answer to a hunger he didn’t know he’d been carrying.

Her hips jerked. Her fingers scrambled for the sheets.

He pressed his palms to her hips, grounding her, murmuring something too quiet to make out.

Then his mouth opened on her again.

Tongue.

Lips.

Heat.

Every part of him focused on unraveling her.

She moaned, soft and choked, as his tongue circled her clit, slow at first, then faster with just the right amount of pressure.

He adjusted when she squirmed.

Groaned when she whimpered.

Moved with her, not against her.

Like this was a language only he spoke.

She looked down once—just once—and saw him watching her.

Eyes locked to hers.

Dark. Hungry. But more than that...captivated.

Like he could spend the rest of his life right here, on his knees tasting her like he needed her to survive.

His mustache scraped lightly against the tender skin of her thighs, a delicious burn. His fingers dug into her hips as his mouth worked in steady rhythm, not relenting even when she gasped, Harry, please—

Especially then.

He moaned against her like her begging was the most beautiful sound in the world.

And then—

She broke.

She came with a soft, shattered gasp, her body buckling as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. Her hands found his hair, her legs trembled, her hips rolled up into his mouth.

He held her through all of it.

Licked her through it.

Didn’t stop until she was whimpering from overstimulation, her fingers tugging weakly at his hair.

Only then—only then—did he lift his head.

His mouth was slick, his jaw tense, his chest heaving.

He crawled back up the bed, lips brushing her cheek, her neck, the corner of her mouth.

He kissed her slowly.

Didn’t try to speak.

He just laid beside her, naked and warm and quiet.

Letting her curl into him.

Letting the silence stretch.

Letting himself feel.

And when she finally caught her breath, when she looked up at him and whispered, “You okay?”

Harry gave her a look so full of tenderness it nearly undid her all over again.

“I am now,” he said.

And she believed him.

They laid there, skin to skin, her fingers tracing slow, thoughtless shapes against his chest while his hand rested on the curve of her hip not wanting to let go, grounding them both in something quiet and real.

For the first time in months, Harry hadn’t thought about Lucy.

Not once.

Not her laugh, not the space she left behind.

He only thought about the girl breathing softly in his arms, asleep against his chest like she belonged there.

And when his eyes finally closed, he felt safe.

Maybe for the first time in his life.

[ttjisung]

lover is a day. na jaemin

ex!jaemin x fem!reader

in which jaemin tries his best to make it up to you after months of being apart.

cw: smut ofc... mdni! riding, missionary, he cries while he's inside, p in v (it's not mentioned but they use protection), hurt no comfort :/, angst, the ending isn't happy beware... (wc: 2.8k)

It had been two months and three weeks since Jaemin had seen you, and it felt like he was going insane. Admittedly, it was his fault, considering he was the one who invited you over one night to randomly break up with you after a year and a half together. He wasn’t sure why he did it, all he knew now was how badly he regretted it.

Jaemin was unaware of how boring life would be without the long rants about your favorite show, the lazy naps you’d take together cuddled up, the homemade meals that he tried desperately to recreate in hopes of reigniting past memories – he painfully realized that they didn’t taste the same without you. 

The intention behind his actions was never to cut you out of his life completely, he just felt suffocated at times. You were affectionate, which was an attribute he was once obsessed with; you never failed to make him feel loved, yet it eventually became too much, making him feel as though he was trapped. 

Jaemin could recall the night it happened. He had been at his university’s library, trying to study for an upcoming quiz and it proved difficult when his phone kept buzzing with new messages. He was frustrated, to say the least, when the people around him began to share judging side-looks at the noise. After two more annoyingly loud notifications, a stupid video of a pair of cats hugging with an accompanying ‘us’, he was done. Aggressively stuffing his textbooks back into his bag, he typed out a message asking you to come over before entering his car and speeding to his apartment. 

When he first opened the door for you, you were sporting a smile, immediately throwing your bag on the couch to rush in for a hug. He didn’t reciprocate when you wrapped your arms around him, and after an awkward sequence of pulling away and looking up at him, you noticed the unfamiliar scowl on his face. “What’s wrong?” You immediately asked, stepping closer to place your hands on his face. The action set him off, and before he knew it, he was ripping your hands off of him, whispering the words under his breath yet loud enough for you to hear. I think we should take a break. 

The guilt came almost instantly, seeing you shakily cry as you wiped tears off, reluctantly stepping away from him and leaning over the couch to grab your bag. You never said a word, simply nodding and shuffling to the door to leave. As Jaemin remembers that night, he wishes you would have said something. He wishes you would have yelled at him, acknowledged the fact that he just wanted a break – nothing permanent, begged him to take his words back, anything, yet you did nothing. 

It only took ten minutes for the realization that you were gone to kick in, and his regret to activate as well. He was quick to find his phone, trying to call you and make you come back, so he could apologize and you could be happy together again, yet you didn’t answer his calls. He tried to reach out to you everywhere he could, texting you on every app, calling you on other people’s phones once the paranoia that you might’ve blocked him blossomed, yet all he was met with was radio silence. That was when his depression kicked in.

Jaemin wasn’t eating well, he wasn’t sleeping well, he began to skip out on the gym, and eventually even missed his lectures that he once stressed about eagerly. He didn’t have the motivation to do anything, not when you were out of his life and there was nothing he could do to fix it. Every night, he’d open his phone and scroll past the countless unanswered messages he had sent you begging you to come back, until he’d reach the video of the cats you sent him. He’d embarrassingly watch it on repeat all night, silently crying into his pillow as he realized he could’ve been hugging you like the cats were right now, instead of basking in the loneliness of his cold, messy bed. 

He hadn’t fucked anyone since you – he’s not fully sure he’d be able to even if he tried. Every night, he’d lay in bed with his hand lazily stroking himself, his eyes emotionlessly staring at his ceiling as he tried to feel something, yet it never happened. The only times he was able to cum was when he’d reopen his folder of pictures you had sent him when you were together. After a month, it began to feel creepy so he stopped. He didn’t dare erase the photos though, afraid he’d forget how you looked after a while, so he hid the folder instead. 

It was a rainy day when Jaemin decided to go out again for the first time in a while. The sky was gloomy and grey as his feet led him towards the closest local cafe. His plan of ordering a scone alongside a coffee to take home quickly deteriorated when he stepped into the room, his eyes immediately landing on you. You were alone in a booth, typing something quickly on your laptop while taking a sip of a drink. Jaemin’s heart clenched at the noticeable tired look in your eyes. You looked as miserable as him, probably even worse considering he broke up with you. 

You looked sad, and before he could even think about it, Jaemin rushed up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. He didn’t like the way your expression shifted to panic when you looked up at him, nor did he like the way you lightly shook with nerves as you let out a tiny hi. He felt bad, knowing this was the first time you had ever regarded him with such hesitance. It was your pained expression that reminded him that he was the bad guy in your story, and it made him regret ever even thinking of ending things.

“Hey… It’s been a while.” You awkwardly nodded at his words, avoiding eye contact. Truth be told, you were far from moving on, a part of you shocked because you never thought you’d see him again. You were embarrassed about the ordeal, remembering how annoyed he looked during the last hug you had given him. It made you want to cry when his harsh words would spiral in your head, looping over for hours. You weren’t ready to see him, you didn’t think you’d ever be. This didn’t stop Jaemin from taking the seat in front of you, staring at you intensely with pleading eyes. “Can… Can we talk?” You didn’t want to, but it was hard to decline when he was already leaning over the table, his hands twitching with a desire to reach out and hold yours. 

You nodded your head, appeasing to his request just how you did when he mentioned the break. He breathed out loudly when you agreed, his body flooding with butterflies – this was his chance to apologize and convince you to take him back, and he would rather die than mess it up. 

“How have you been?” He treaded lightly at first, offering small talk to ease you into the conversation but the efforts had the opposite effect as they made you feel more nervous than before. You opted for a small fine, before asking him the same question. Jaemin mirrored your response, neither of you acknowledging the irony behind the answer - the both of you were far from fine. 

“I’m not sure where to start, but I miss you, N/n. So, so much. I… I don’t know if you’ve been getting my messages?” He stopped for a second to gouge your reaction, yet you didn’t respond, looking down at your lap instead with a frown, “I get it. I was really mean, but… But I’m so sorry. I regret it so much, and I want to make it up to you. I really haven’t been the same without you.” You continued to look at your lap, dissociating for a second as you tried your hardest to hold in the tears slowly forming. It was a battle you lost as they began to flow down your cheeks. Jaemin’s heart dropped when you finally looked back up, your eyes swelling up. 

He moved his hands quickly to hold your face, placing his upper body over the table to stabilize himself before he wiped your tears away desperately. You shouldn’t have, but you let him, even leaning into his touch when his movements grew stronger.

The next hour passed in a blur as he moved next to you, letting you cry into his arms for as long as you needed to, walking you back to your apartment when you realized the small cafe wasn’t the place to break down in. You're not sure if it was your loneliness, or the fact that you hadn’t slept with anyone else either, yet you found it easy to melt in his hold as he led you to your bed, placing you down gently.

Jaemin knew this was probably his last chance to convince you to come back with him, yet the hope fluttering in his heart quickly overshined the fear of losing you for good. He let himself drift away from his conflicted emotions as he passionately kissed down your neck, dragging his hand towards the hem of your shirt until he was able to pull it right off. 

You gasped as he lowered himself onto your body, kissing and sucking anywhere he could. It had been so long, and he refused to let any doubt cloud either of your minds. He became determined, deciding the only way he could show you how much he missed you was to fuck you senseless. 

“Need you so bad, baby. I… fuck, I really missed you.” His warm words contrasted the way he moved you around roughly, stripping your clothes off quickly along his as his hands found your waist, pulling your bare body on top of his. 

Jaemin’s back was pushed against the headboard, strands of hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead as he pulled you into a heated kiss on his lap. You reciprocated, smaller hands finding the way to his shoulders, scratching them harshly as he finally pushed into you completely. His moves were calculated yet eager, thrusting into you like his life depended on it – in a way, it did. He knew that if he messed up and ruined the moment, you’d probably decide to avoid him again. 

The thought began to plague him as he ran a hand up your waist, holding you in place as it moved towards the small of your back. He put pressure on your skin, pushing you as close as you could be to him, which made you shift. Jaemin’s mouth opened widely as a moan escaped him due to the added friction when you moved on top of him. 

The familiar feeling of his climax began to flood his mind as he continued to buck his hips into you, pushing his hard cock sloppily inside of your cunt, forcing your back to arch into him. He was so close, too close, when his mind began to run, replacing all of his worries with the overwhelming love he felt at the moment – he finally had his soulmate back.

Perking up, Jaemin leaned into your neck, offering small words of affection alongside his deep thrusts. “I’m so happy you’re back, I haven’t been able to do this without you.” You leaned away from him, nodding your head, “Me neither… I…” You struggled to speak as his pace grew harder, clenching around him in a way that had his mind reeling, “I… Wish this wasn’t the last time.” Jaemin’s hips faltered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he came to a stop. “W-what?” 

You frowned at the way his actions stilled, trying to initiate contact by grinding against him yet failing as his large hands moved back onto your hips, pulling you down onto him to stop you completely as well. “Jaemin, what are you doing-” “What do you mean last time?” His voice was frantic, along with his wide eyes that were trying to find yours. 

“Why did you stop-” “Y/n, please… What do you mean by last time?” The panic in his voice grew as he moved his face in an attempt to get closer to you. His feelings began to spread to you as you pushed yourself away from him, trying to further the distance. “I just… Well, you broke up with me so… We can’t do this again, you know?” You tried to appear calm and collected, yet the grip he had on your hips increased, and his breath grew uneven. 

When you finally gained the courage to look back at him, his head was shaking, small tears swelling in his eyes as he mindlessly sniffled. There was a flip in the atmosphere as he began to cry out, “Y/n… Baby please, you can’t do this. I-I love you… This can’t be the last time.” He was disheveled, holding your body as close as he could. Your arms that rested on his shoulders hesitantly moved until you weren’t touching him anymore. You weren’t hugging him back. The choked sobs he let out festered in the air as he held you tightly, your arms unsure of where to go. It felt like hell for Jaemin – maybe he was being punished for what he did to you, the ironic scene reminding him of when he refused to return your affection, taking it for granted and not realizing that he would be deprived of it for too long. 

“I thought you knew we… We weren’t going to get back together.” Your quiet words did nothing but tear his heart more, the finality in your tone feeling like a punch to his gut. It wasn’t until you began to shift uncomfortably that he noticed he was still inside of you, his hands not letting you go.

“I can show you, baby… I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Jaemin begged you to consider what he was saying, an anxious pit in his stomach forming when you didn’t respond. It was then that he finally moved again, this time gently as he shifted the both of you around until you were under him. 

You hummed lightly in surprise as his hips met yours again, his rough pace now completely replaced by softer movements when he leaned down into you, his face hovering right above yours, eyes drilling into your own. His lips met yours, passionate yet caring as his cock pushed in and out of you slowly. It was hard to act like you couldn’t hear the small I love you’s he muttered beneath his breath with every snap of his hips. One arm being used to balance on top of you, his other moved to your face, cupping your cheek.

The way he fucked you tenderly reminded you of when he’d come home from a long lecture, releasing his stress by making love to you. It was intimate, something you had forgotten about during the months you were apart. You tried to ignore the way tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with your own. You tried to ignore the way he held you closely as you both came. The hardest part to ignore was after, when he moved to lay next to you on the large mattress, holding you close how he used to when you were together. You missed it as much as he did, yet the weariness never faded as he cuddled into you, refusing to leave until you both fell asleep. 

Jaemin felt his world collapsing when he woke up to an empty bed, the lack of your warmth imminent. Your room was silent, the small chirps of a bird outside of the window providing the only noise he could hear as he stood up frantically, searching for you. You weren’t there, though, as he fell back into your bed, tears overwhelming him again. 

With labored steps, it took Jaemin an hour to find the effort to finally get up and leave your apartment. He took the familiar key from under your doormat, locking the door behind him. His movements were sluggish, similar to how he had felt ever since you slipped away from him the first time. 

It wasn’t until he finally reached his own home that he let himself go, tears falling rapidly as he threw himself onto his own bed, clutching the pillow on the right side of the mattress – what used to be your side. He had refused to even touch the pillow before, fearing the comforting scent of your perfume would disappear, yet now he couldn’t hold himself back, clutching the fabric in his arms as he tried his best to imagine it was you he was caressing. The pillow laid flat against him, resembling the way your arms draped next to you when he hugged you close for the last time, unreciprocated and cold.  

a/n: if any of you have read my other stories you’ll think i’m real repetitive bc i’ve overdoneeee the hell out of this trope it’s getting out of hand… that being said i might make a part 2 with a happy ending if the people ask for it :3

[zlut4rina]

Freakum Dress

Storyline: Although you and your girlfriend work through each other's busy schedules, learning to make time for one another. You can't help but feel a bit "neglected" one specific day. As a way to get your girlfriends attention, you pull out what you like to call a "Freakum Dress." I mean, every woman has one.

Pairings: dom!g!p!minjeong x sub!femreader

Warnings: Smut with Plot, heavy kinks, breeding kink, slapping, biting, unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), degrading, she refferes to you as "doll" a lot, stomach buldge, VERY DETAILED (im a whore mb) prob a bunch more I forgot abt-

Note: I thought of this while in my math class ... also heavily and obviously inspired by the Beyonce song Freakum dress duhhh(minus the "he's out doin wrong" and going out to party part) My first time writing and posting something like this on tumblr Gulp .. enjoy (u better)

Word count: 5.4k (my apologies ima plot whore)

___________________________________________

It was around 6 in the afternoon, you lie in bed scrolling on your phone in a dimly lit room. The atmosphere was warm and calming, all that was heard was the intense typing from your girlfriend and her keyboard. She’s still at it, by this time you both would be cuddling enjoying the warm embrace of your loved one. But no, Minjeong had extra work to get done. I mean it wasn’t really her fault her boss emailed her a day before hand letting her know of the possibility of extra work, she needed to turn in. Of course knowing her she forgot having to do that ANDDDD the other things needed to be complete today, and let’s just say … your girl was stressed!

You noticed of course, I mean how could you not when she was practically ignoring you all day. At least that’s how you saw it. While tapping away at your phone for hours on end you finally set it aside, taking this time to scan your surroundings your strained yet tired eyes landing on the back of your girlfriend’s head. You watched her closely admiring the way her fingers moved at such a fast yet flowy pace. The way she bit her lip when she made a simple spelling mistake. The way her brows furrowed tightly at her bright computer screen, creating a beam that shunned only upon her and the small corner she was in.

You sucked your teeth in annoyance rolling your eyes as you threw the blanket that was once covering half of your body to the other side of the bed. Getting up you made your way to her, hand on the back of her chair you leaned down your faces matching in level. “Still working huh? How longs’ it been babe?” You question watching as she flinched slightly to the sound of your voice so close to her ear. Never stopping her movement on the keyboard she answers “I don’t know … an hour or two maybe?” she says looking at you briefly before Turing her attention back to her screen, slightly slouching a bit now. You cringed at this, how could she be so focused on stupid paper work. I mean for this long too?! This is unacceptable and honestly ludicrous you thought.

Your gazed froze on her admiring her features taking in a pretty yet annoying site. You leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the cheek, to no avail she didn’t even react only a few blinks as she switched from tabs scrolling through paragraphs of lost media. You groaned a little your lips curling into a frown. “Maybe you should take a break, no?” You say tilting you’re head a bit to the side locking your eyes with hers a small pout on your face. “I can’t babe, I need to get this done before tonight.” You stared at her for a while blinking a few times before finally standing up straight taking a few steps back. “Okay...” You said Barley below a whisper. You turned your body swiftly on one foot making your way downstairs to the bathroom.

After you used the bathroom, you lost track of time sitting on the couch watching TV. Coming to this realization you check your phone seeing it’s 10:45, you turned the TV off and made your way upstairs to your shared bedroom where you assumed your girlfriend to be sleeping. Oh boy where you wrong upon opening the door you see her still at her desk typing away. “Minjeong… baby, c’Mon no way your still at this.” You said softly with a hint of sadness in your voice. Obviously, she ignored you as if you didn’t even exist it made you sad yes but you had a trick up your sleeve. Never thought times would be this tough, never expected to bring “her” out. She was only a backup plan if all else failed and well in this situation, everything failed. Noticing the lack of attention you made your way to the closet in your bedroom. Turing around to her once more before rummaging through to find it, her your plan Z. You made your way to the bathroom downstairs changing into her the dress you bought for moments like these. You never really expected to have moments like these before, I mean Minjeong was obsessed with you so there was no need to try to grab her attention in such way. But every woman has one and you just so happen to be one of those women.

You made your way to the top of the stairs where your shared bedroom was along with the woman you plan to steal from her busy work. Strutting your way up you met the door taking a deep breath in you twisted the knob entering slowly and quietly. “Minjeong…” you said in a soft yet alluring tone but loud enough to catch her attention. She turned her head to you fast then back at the screen. “Wha-..” she couldn’t even finish her sentence before she cocked her head back at you, you would think she broke her neck with how fast she turned to you. Mouth slightly open eyes wandering, everywhere, anywhere. She couldn’t take her eyes off you staring in awe at your beauty, you stood there nervous was it working ? Did it already work ? What’s next ? As those questions ran through your head minjeong turned back around focused on her work again, or so you thought. Her right hand reaching down to push her growing bulge down from view. Suddenly a random burst of confidence took over you strutting your way to your girlfriend you push her hands off the keyboard and sit yourself on her lap your eyes catching each other in an intense gaze. A battle you weren’t willing to lose “What’s your deal?” Minjeong asked placing her hands on your hips keeping you in place perfectly on top of her growing cock. You gulped keeping your eyes on her placing your hands on her shoulders “I should be asking you that instead.” You said tilting your head to the side a little a smug look on your face as you said so. “Ahh what’s this about babe” your girlfriend asked moving your hips forward on her keeping eye contact, she was teasing you. Of course she was, but you couldn’t back down now.

You kept your gaze with her your eyes flickering down to her lips in one swift movement “You like work more than me?” You questioned now looking her in the eyes furious yet in a pleading way. “Ohhh babe I’d never do that to you, you know that” she says leaning closer to your face. “Clearly you’re too sexy to ignore...” She says lips grazing yours as she spoke gripping your ass tightly, that’ll definitely leave a mark. You melted into her touch almost immediately pushing your face closer to her desperate for a kiss only for her to pull away and shake her head. “uh uh how do I know if you really miss me if you really want me” she says voice lower and more seductive massaging your ass as she spoke. Minjeong was hard, rock fucking solid it was obvious to the both of you who knew you had this much of an effect on her. You whined quietly grinding a bit on her stiff pants, immediately Minjeong stopped your movements holding your hips down tightly definitely to leave a bruise later. “Oh c’Mon doll, use your words. I know you can” She coos at you almost as if she’s taunting you “Minjeong ... please … I need you” You finally spoke Barley above a whisper eyes leaving hers staring down at your laps. Gripping her shoulders lightly as you begged, you don’t even know what you where begging for you just, needed her and that was all that mattered.

Minjeong’s eyes darkened after hearing that she leaned in and kissed you soft and sweetly before it almost immediately turned heated and sloppy. She kissed you with so much force and dominance there was no point in fighting against her. Why would you anyway, her hands gripped your hips tighter digging her nails into your skin causing you to whine and wince at the pain. It was beautiful you loved when she got like this, taking her anger out on you or just straight up using you as a way to relieve herself .

Minjeong pulled away from the kiss out of breath looking you in the eyes hungry. She licked her lips before picking you up while getting up from her chair, she let you go standing in front of her as she sat on the end of the bed. Leaning back on her elbows she looked at you in the eyes looking you up and down admiring your body the way your curves complimented the dress the way the fabric clung to your body like a glove, the pretty lacing on your legs. “Well, whatcha waitin’ for it ain’t gonna suck itself is it now pretty girl?” You gulped getting down on your knees before her, stroking her thighs up and down staring at the intense bulge in her pants begging for release. Your hands slowly making their way up her thighs massaging the huge tint in her pants “fuckk ..” minjeong groaned at the feeling, laying down fully on her back a hand behind her head the other going to reach yours stroking your hair slowly. You slowly reach to the top of her pants and pull them down using one hand to massaged her slightly clothed cock. You kissed it, softly and slowly leaving kisses on her aching penis. Finally after toying with her you pull down her boxers slowly causing her long uncut cock to spring out. You stared in awe the way her precum ran down the side of her cock, you stared at it loving how it twitched too absolutely nothing, the pretty curve it had to it. Your gaze didn’t last long closing your eyes leaning in to give her cock a long-wet lick base to tip, once you reached the top you sucked and tongued her tip playing with her foreskin sucking on it leaving a loud pop sound as it slipped out your mouth.

Downing the whole thing in one go causing the girl under you to twitch and grip your hair. She let out a breathy moan as she trusted into your mouth slowly and shakily “you’re so perfect at making me feel good, want my cum deep in your throat huh? Don’t you doll”. Her voice a low husky tone throwing her head back onto the bed as you worked your mouth Bobbing your head in different patterns just the way she liked. Your tongue working magic on her tip making her twitch and buck her hips into each lick you give her. Spit pooling out your mouth onto her harden cock. You use your free right hand to cup and play with her balls skillfully earing a long and breathy moan from the girl. Using your left to stroke her as you tongued at her from above, Minjeong was in heaven the way you worked your mouth on her was like a reward only she can recall. This isn’t your first time doing this oh no, you’ve sucked her off plenty of times more than you can count on both hands. You’re not complaining though you loved it and so did she so of course you’d be willing to do it whenever she liked.

Minjeong grabbed your head with both hands forcing you to take all of her deeper. Taking your hands away and placing them on her thighs for balance you gagged taking in her long cock. The thick mix of saliva and precum causing you to choke a bit on her, nothing too amateur for you though. “You like that doll, huh? Having your throat full of this huge cock in your mouth yea?”. You could only whine in response tears rolling out your eyes, this was your favorite pain and pleasure. Minjeong’s movements became more ragged and fastened in pace as her moans became more vocal. You could tell she was close , you worked your tongue like a pro for her wanting that sweet relief just as much as she did. And with a few more hard disgusting pumps into your mouth she came hot strings of cum hitting the back of your throat coating your mouth heavily. You pull your head back and swallow licking your lips, as cum and spit dripped down your mouth. Eyeing Minjeong and the way her chest rose and fell you sat on your knees waiting for your next order. Minjeong finally arises and sits up “Somethings definitely gotten into you doll…” she says reaching for your chin making you look up at her. Rubbing lines back and forth on your wet lips “Get up.” She orders, and of course you stand up almost immediately

She reaches for the lace on your legs and ripped it off like a hungry savage causing a small gasp to leave your lips hands moving to her shoulder for balance. After tugging away at you she finally had your pretty wet cunt on display for her, she ran her middle finger through your soaking wet slit coating her fingers the second she reached into your heat. “Mm- min please” you moaned head tossed down as she played with you, her fingers dancing around your cunt refusing to enter you correctly. She played with your clit rubbing it in circles causing you jolt your hips forward at her. “Please baby… I was good for you, no?” Minjeong only stared at you halting her movement making you whine because of the lack of touch she gave. Minjeong grabbed your hand from her shoulders, leading you onto the bed where she laid on her back. “Let me taste you doll, let me taste how good you really are.”. She said with a smirk licking her top row of teeth she ordered you to turn around with a wave of her finger. Of course you obliged to her, who are you to say no there’s not like you have a choice to say no either in this situation. You turned your body and slowly backed up on her she pulled your lower half down to her face blowing on your wet cunt, you shook slightly minjeong cheesed at this loving her effect on you. She toyed with you again her fingers playing in your wet heat rubbing up and down coating her digits in sweet ecstasy. You could only whine pushing your hips back on her more needing some sort of friction to your heat “You’re so needy doll. That’s how you even ended up here anyway, you’re such a whore.” She landed a loud slap on your ass making you moan in response head jolting up at the moment of connection. “Were you desperate for my attention or desperate to be fucked like the stupid cum doll you are huh?”. She landed another hard slap to your other cheek this one creating a hand print “Answer me slut.” She said in a rough tone, as soon as those words left her mouth she shoved three fingers into you without warning. “Ahh fuck, min” You moaned out body falling onto hers.

You reached to stroke her still harden wet cock, Minjeong slapped your ass again this time rougher than before. It hurt yes but it hurt so good tears left your eyes and you drooled slightly. “Are you gonna answer or does someone need to be punished?” she asked taking her fingers out that were once working in and out of you. You whined shaking your head in response “Stupid girl, I told you to use your words.” Minjeong slapped your ass hard before driving her face deep into your cunt sucking and licking as if she were a starving stranger. Your back arched eyes rolled back moan after moan escaping your lips. Minjeong went ham on you sucking your clit her tongue flicking it and rubbing circles on it from time to time. It felt amazing all you could do was moan almost forgetting to stroke your pretty girlfriend off, your hand went up and down on her cock you lent down to lick it and suck the tip and your other hand went to her balls and played with them once again. Minjeong soon shoved three fingers back into your cunt as her lips and tongue went to work on your folds and clit leaving quiet pop sounds as she did her magic. Her arms wrapped around your waist keeping you in place forcing you to lower yourself onto her face burying her deep into your soaking wet cunt. Moans escaped from both of your mouths hers causing vibrations in your body. You could feel a knot building up in your stomach, Minjeong knew you were close the way you clenched around her fingers hearing your toes pop after curling them, the way you just couldn’t keep still above her. Alas you couldn’t keep focusing on yourself you took your attention back to your girlfriend’s cock sucking it hungrily and sloppily. Everything felt too good to stop, too good focus on just one thing you both just fucked each other hypnotized by the scent of sex in the air.

With a few more sucks and strokes you both came hard, both your bodies shaking your girlfriends cum landing all over your face and tongue. Minjeong gathered all the cum that spilled out tonguing and sucking to get all of it out. She didn’t stop there she kept her movement still fingering you at such a slow pace tongue licking your clit sucking on it just to get a sweet reaction out of you. “Think you can give me another doll?”. She asked face still deep in your heat causing you to shiver you shook your head side to side earning a smack “Just how stupid are you?”. Your girlfriend asked angry halting her fingers movement in you. She pushed you off of her turning your body like a ragdoll forcing you to sit on her face. She locked you down with her arms wrapped around your waist keeping you in place. She started devouring your sensitive cunt tonguing and sucking at your pink bud causing you to whine and squirm in her grasp. “Taste so good doll, can’t get enough” she spoke into your body sending waves of pleasure through your body. You grip the headboard with your left and the right reaching for her hair pushing her head forward into your body. You grinded on her face your sensitive bud colliding with the tip of her nose , the way they rubbed together resembled two knight’s sword fighting. Her tongue was like a serpent burring deep into its hole beneath the two soldiers. The feeling was intense you felt like you were going crazy eyes rolling back, cunt aching, body hot and sweaty, fingers trembling the knot in your stomach was growing you felt like you were about to explode.

That was until she stopped, making you whine and attempt to grind on her face more for some sort of release in tension. Smiling against your wet cunt she looked up at you “Beg for it.” She said, no, she stated it was a demand. Looking you in the eyes like some pathetic doll she could get whatever she wanted out of you. You stared right back mouth open sweat dripping off your chin onto the pillow. How could she do this to you, she gave one of your cheeks a hard smack echoing through the room. You yelped in response biting your lip with your eyes shut “How many fucking times do I have to tell you to speak up?”. She said angry smacking you again, she loved the way you reacted how helpless you look right now it’s a wonderful sight to her. “Or do you just love being treated like this huh, doll?” she bit your inner thigh leaving bite marks and hickeys “Please, min ... I wanna cum so bad...”. You said, helpless and defeated you had no other choice “Good girl...”. She whispered into your thigh focusing back on your wet cunt, devouring it like she once did before. The sensation was intense almost unbearable, you immediately stated grinding on her lips and tongue grabbing a handful of hair pushing her head further into you. She clawed at your ass and thighs, the mixture of pain and pleasure was too much for you with just a few more licks you came undone shaking clenching uncontrollably. That sweet relief felt heavily. Minjeong licked you all up taking in every last drop of you in her mouth. “Fuck you taste amazing for me doll. So wet and warm, I can’t get enough” and with that she throws you off her replacing each other’s positions. You now laying down beneath her legs on each side of her body as she kneeled in-between you.

You laid there both hands covering your face in embarrassment “You look so fucking good in that baby, I almost don’t wanna take it off ya”. She said eyeing down your hot body practically numb from the previous orgasms. She began stroking her still harden cock staring you in the face, she reached to move your hands away right above your head. She leaned down both your wrist in her hand, she reached your ear and spoke “Fuck baby, I wanna see how beautiful your body looks right now”. She said before kissing down your chin and neck, leaving bites and marks all over before stopping at your collarbone. “But that dress is so damn sexy to ruin” she continued her assault on your neck collarbone licking you after every bite. There’s still some fluff in her, just a little. She sat up releasing your wrist, they remained in that same position. She looked at you before smiling, taking her shirt off finally revealing her toned slim body to you. She threw it somewhere on the floor who cares where it went. Biting her lip she reached for her bra and pulled it over her head slowly swaging her body seductively. You could only stare legs holding her close to you putting a hand over your mouth to cover yourself. “I’ve got an idea” your girlfriend started “How bout I fuck you with it on, then I rip it off and fuck you without it. You like how that sound doll?” she lifted your legs onto her shoulders and watched you waiting for an answer, you nodded “Please…” was all you could muster up. Minjeong grinned “Please what baby doll?” she’s toying with you again, how you loved and hated when she did. You bit your lip looking away from her, you whined not wanting to embarrass yourself. She grabbed you by the chin making you face her “Tell me, tell me what you want doll. You wanna feel good, don’t you? So speak.” She looked at you with anticipation tilting her head to the side waiting on what sort of response you’ll give her now.

You couldn’t say anything, you wanted too but nothing came out you felt stuck you probably looked like an idiot just staring into nothing. “Ah nothing? That’s fine, maybe we should stop her then. No?” she said looking at you with a sly smirk her voice was so low and mellow when she spoke. She knew you didn’t want to stop, neither did she. “NO, please ..” you reached for her shoulder keeping her in-between you “I want it, I want you” You bit your lip debating on whether you should Say the next part or not. After a few seconds of silence you spoke “I want you to fuck me, please min, please fill me up. I want it I want it so bad.” You begged her frantically, desperate for something, anything. She smiled at you “You’re so pretty when you beg.” She chuckled reaching for her harden shaft slapping it against your clit earning a moan from you. She leaned down to your ear kissing it before making her way to attack your neck with love bites. You were a mess, a hot moaning mess.

She slowly entered her cock inside you inch by inch she took her time, her painfully slow time. Thus causing you to squirm under her wrapping your arms around her neck and she continued to leave hickeys all over you. Your girlfriend began her assault on your wet cunt at a fast pace her balls slapping against your ass, the sounds of wet skin colliding and the scent of sex and ecstasy in the air. You could only moan eyes shut almost screaming into your girlfriend’s ear. She fucked you rough and hard her movements where inhumane almost as if she wasn’t really the woman you once knew, she was fucking you like a monster. So intensely destroying your insides with her long cock. “Fuck doll, this pussys’ so fucking good. All mine too~” she spoke into your ear words shaky with the way she was pounding you. The sound of sloppy sex overwhelming you, you Barley understood her. Nails sinking into her back, neck and hips leaving scars and markings that’ll take days to heal. The pain causing Minjeong to groan and bite down on your neck, at this rate your neck was full of red pink and purple marks with spots of dips of teeth marks all over. “Ah fuck baby you feel so fucking good around me.” She leaned up and grabbed you by the waist ending her attack on your upper body. “You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty” she spoke as she pounded into you harder somehow managing to go deeper into you. Her tip kissing your cervix like a desperate lover “Fuck min, don’t stop please..” you begged biting your lip ad your body Bobbing up and down to her rhythm. “You like that doll? Huh, like the way my dick violates your insides don’t you?”. She fucked you faster her breathing becoming heavy and quick, she was close so so close. “I’m gonna fill you up so good yea? You wanted this. You wanted me to fuck you like this like the slut you are.” She bit her lip head hung beck as she pounded into you like a mad man “Fuck I love you so much you know that?” You nodded in response your grip on her body growing tighter and you could feel your climax approaching. “Look at me pretty girl, look at who’s worshiping this beautiful body of yours” she grabbed your chin making you face her eyes meeting for a split second before you both crashed into a long-heated kiss. “Min… baby I’m-im gonna cum fuck” You slightly pulled away from the kiss feeling your next orgasim approaching “Me too baby I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?” You nodded and with a few more pumps you both came together your back arching as she pushed deeper into you.

Panting and sweaty you both sit there for a while before your girlfriend spoke “Hate to see this pretty thing go so soon, hm? Ah, but I bet you’d look so much sexier with it torn apart huh doll”. You whined in response, taking this as an answer without wasting any more time she grabbed the fabric covering your stomach and ripped it apart all in one go. This caused you to moan covering you face with your hands as she “undressed” You. “So beautiful, just for me. Only me” she spoke under her breath admiring your physique, the way you ditch wear a bra underneath almost as if you wanted this to happen. Her hands trailing up and down your body feeling you up, she licked her lips at the site before her. “How much cum you think this pretty belly can hold doll?” she spoke tracing circles around your bellybutton. “I think you’d look so cute carrying my baby. Don’t you think so too” your girlfriend smiled at you with a shit eating grin. You stared back at her a red flush forming on your cheeks, this is so humiliating you thought. “I want to, so bad. I wanna fill you up with all my cum, watching your stomach grow bigger with each pump. I wanna breed you like a fucking whore.” She takes her gaze from your stomach and looks at you in the eyes, deeply. “Can i?” is all she says a glint of plea in her eyes, she’s desperate. You look at her up and down before letting a sheepish smile form on your face “I’m not stopping you am i?” you ask tilting you head a bit at her. With this she wasted no time ramming her somehow still hard cock into you this time shoving all full inches inside you without warning. Causing you to yelp in pain and pleasure, it was too much for you but who were you to say no to her?

“Fuck baby I love you” she said between each thrust, leaning down she held one of your breast in her hand playing with the ripple and the other in her mouth. “Fuck min!” you moaned out harms wrapping around her neck pulling her closer into your body. Her pace was fast and eager, her rhythm and patterns where all off without sync. She was fucking you like a deranged animal “I’m goona get you pregnant baby, full of me fuck I need it” You wrapped your legs around her torso pulling her deeper into you. “Please min, cum inside me fill me up please” you begged desperate just as she was. Moving your hip along with her at a ragged pace both desperate and needy. The sounds coming from you too were disgusting wet skin slapping against each other moans from different pitches it’s like you both lost your minds. Neither of you thinking straight only worried about cumming making the other feel good. Minjeing got up from your chest grabbing you by the shoulder with one hand the other reaching for yours placing it on your stomach. Feeling the way her cock bounced in and out of your tummy. “Feel that doll? That’s me getting you pregnant. Dumping my seed into you like a whore”. She left your hand on your stomach grabbing the headboard to balance her body as she thrusted in you like crazy. The bed creaking from her speedy movements the way your body moved and your boobs bounced to her sex was wonderful, sadly it had to come to an end at some point. “Baby I’m so close … don’t stop .. please” you whined out eyes close head thrown back your legs hugging her body tighter than ever. “Me too doll, you ready to carry my baby?” she muttered through her teeth as her speed grew faster chasing after her high. You nodded with a few small “please” and “yes” your grip on her tightened as you came undone on her shaft. Back arching biting your lip till it bled, your girlfriend pumped into you still letting all her sweet and salty semen let loose into you some spilling out.

She fell on top of you her now soft penis still inside you, you moaned a bit at her. “I’m so sleepy doll” she spoke into the crook of your neck, you looked down at her smiling before stroking her hair. “We can stay like this is you want” you whispered in her ear gaining a nod from her, chuckling at this you pull her closer into a snuggle. Limbs wrapped around each other, scared of letting go. You turned your head to look at the clock on your nightstand, it read 1:34 am. “Guess your gonna be in a bit of trouble tomorrow huh? Mingejong looked up at you before Turing her gaze to her still open computer screen. She only shrugged and went back into her spot kissing your neck before trailing off to sleep “I love you, so much” your girlfriend spoke before going completely silent.

“I love you too”

___________________________________________

Very rushed ending my apologies (I feel like I lost the plot halfway through tbh 😭)

Hope u liked tho more coming soon if u guys enjoyed ♡

[eviiesstuff]

"You say it's big, but you take it."

Hi loves, this is my first time properly writing one of these, so feedback is totally welcomed. I take requests if you have anything specific for the next one, and it would be appreciated so I have more inspo on what to write, so feel free to leave one. Hope you enjoy! :)

!Minors DNI!! 18+ mature content!

Your new partner Joel is all you could possibly want and more. But he becomes even more to you when you see what he hasn't shown you yet.

Warnings;

(ingestion of alcohol, swearing, sexual/dirty talk, smut, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex)

(No Outbreak Joel, Sarah is not present in this scenario)

The smell of fresh air compared to the sweaty and sticky air in the club was almost god-given as you stepped outside, a cold breeze fluttering against you, cooling the damp and hot skin.

Time had flown by, and 2am had approached. You weren't the type to abandon your friends, but after they became too drunk to function and nearly threw their own guts up on your shoes, you simply called them an uber hoping at least one of them were sober enough to direct the group into the car. You watched as they drunkenly piled into the car, babbling on that they would pay you for the ride. They weren't going to be anytime soon.

You sighed, watching the Uber pull away into the road and disappearing down the street. You would've gladly hopped in if there was room, but unfortunately not.

"fuck," you cursed quietly.

Home was nearly half an hour away, and by the god awful feeling of the ache in your heels. It was clear that the walk back was not happening, and neither was the 175 dollars you would have to pay for an Uber home as it was so late. Your fingers worried over the hem of your dress, thinking of a solution to your current lack of transport.

Joel.

Was it too late to call? 2am might be a stretch for him. Your thumb hovered over his contact on the phone screen after you entered the phone app, but you clicked on it anyway, not like you had any other choice at this point. The trill of the calling sound had happened many times, and hope was slowly easing away after each ring came and went.

"Hello?" His voice sounded somehow lower than usual, seemingly full of fatigue. A sense of relief came over you as his voice filled your ear. "Hey, I didn't wake you, did I?" You answered with an edge of worry to your voice.

"s' all good sweetheart, what's wrong?" he replied, his choice of gentle tone putting you at ease. You paused, biting down harshly at the skin of your lip. "I know it's late, but I'm kinda stuck outside the bar with no way to get home.."

"Y' need me to come n get you?" he practically finished for you, "Yeah basically," you offered.

A soft grunt came from his end of the line, like he was getting out of bed. "Send me your location, I'll come n get you," he said after a short moment. A smile spread to your lips. "Thanks," you whispered.

"You got it baby," he replied before the call was abruptly ended. You finished messaging him with your location before you clicked the phone off. Minutes passed, the ache of your feet grew in your heels, as well as the shiver from the briskly chilled air. It didn't take longer than 15 minutes to pass before you recognised a certain shined navy pick-up beginning to slow down as it advanced towards the side walk outside the bar.

You slowly walked over as it came to a stop, watching as Joel leaned over the centre console to open the passenger door before you got there, to which you happily slid into the leather seat, taking in the heat of the car gratefully. "Late night?" he asked with a smidge of amusement at your look of slightly drunken drowsiness. "Clearly," you muttered, leaning your head back against the leather rest behind you, eager to feel the relief of sitting in a warm space. You heard him huff a laugh, "alright just askin' " he protested. A hand came to your dress covered thigh, though you could still feel the heat from Joel's skin over the fabric. Watching his strong hand softly squeeze the flesh there, fingers flexing and moulding around the skin, the veins present on the back of his hand bulging more than usual. The feeling and the sight makes something stir quietly inside of you.

His grip doesn't waver when the truck pulls away from its parking space. "Yours or mine?" You hear him ask in a murmur.

"Yours."

The car ride can't seem to get any faster, as if it wants you to feel even more tortured. Joel's hand hasn't left its place since it got there, fingers grazing slightly higher, bringing the hem of your dress with it, causing the skin of your upper thigh to appear. His thumb dares to push its way between your inner thigh, dragging it in a sweeping motion against the skin absentmindedly. Your eyes flicker to him, gazing at his stern side profile as he drives, staring at the curve of his nose, and the sharpness to his stubble covered jaw, which clenches every now and again.

His thumb trails between your two legs, rubbing at the skin on the inside of your thigh, and you dare to squeeze the both of them together. It's as if he doesn't notice, or he simply isn't fazed when you do. His hand annoyingly doesn't move any further, and disappointment clouds your mind. Its as if he knows your thinking about it, can't help not teasing you in the process. He side eyes you, noticing your defeated expression, and the corner of his lip tugs upwards into a subtle side smirk, turning back to the view of the road.

You thank the Lord as his driveway and house come into view, and he pulls up infront of the garage. You breathe a sigh of relief as he retreats to get out the truck. However you immediately miss the warm feeling of his hand on your skin. The passenger door opens, and his hand is on you again, placing itself on the small of your back to guide you up the driveway. "Thanks for pickin me up," you whispered against his firm shoulder, resting your cheek against the soft sleeve of the t shirt he sported. His lips came to your temple, and you closed your eyes, feeling the sensation of him pressing a chaste kiss against it. "No problem baby," he replied, the soft vibration of his drawl in your ear making you nearly shiver.

The scent of wood faintly fills your nose once the both of you step inside, and you take notice of the crackling flames inside the Woodburner pride of place against the wall of the living room. Joel's house always felt comfortable, the man loved his wood burning.

You shrug off your jacket, and it's placed on the sofas arm. "Y' have a good time?". Joel is buisied in the kitchen, pouring an amber liquid into a thick glass. "Yeah," you replied slightly dazed. You simply watched, shamlessly staring at his back which looked as broad and imposing as ever, the rolled sleeves of his shirt struggling to hold in the muscle beneath, the skin slightly bulging out of the hem.

Everything about him was just so big. You'd thought a shameful amount of times about how big he could be elsewhere, but those thoughts had been passed to the back of your mind. Sure, you and Joel had fooled around, but it was early days in what you had going on. You were yet to discover other things about him, that you wished you knew, you really wished you knew.

After finishing the alcohol in a matter of seconds, he turned away from the counter, and you averted your eyes from his muscles. Your head gradually tilted upwards as he came nearer. Soon enough his hands braced at your waist, sliding one to your back as his eyes fell to your face. "Y' wanna go to bed?" he murmured, his eyes flickering all over your features.

You were tired, sure. But not tired enough. "Not yet," you replied, curling your hands around the fabric of his shirt, subtly tugging down to ask him to lean down. He caught on, pressing his forehead against yours, before he dipped down and his mouth pressed to yours. The kiss lasted for a gracious moment, his hands roaming and grabbing at any bare skin he could get. You felt his tash graze on your upper lip, but you didn't care, you had much bigger things swirling around in your mind.

His lips broke from yours, and you took a breath of air alongside him. He noticed your look, eyes silently begging for something he hadn't caught on to, lips slightly swelled and parted for more, so much more.

His finger trailed across your jaw, upwards to your lips, smoothing his thumb across the softness of them. "What t'is it baby?" He drawled.

"Joel," you whispered, instinctively leaning into the touch of his fingers, as you looked up to him. "Mm?"

"Y'need to tell me, or I can't help you sweetheart,"

"N' that's what I wanna do," he added.

You hesitated, taking in the gentle expression he held, his eyes boring into yours fiercely.

"I want..I want to do more," you responded, "More than what we've been doing,"

He hums in response, dragging his thumb into your hairline, pushing the baby hairs that fought against the style you'd done, carding his fingers through the strands. His eyes are thoughtfull as always, staring down at you deeply. "Yeah? that's it?" he asks, to which you nod a little to fast.

His gaze travels across the expanse of your face, neck, and the beginning of your collar bone. "So fuckin' beautiful, so perfect," His lips brush against your jaw, placing short yet purposeful kisses that continue down your neck, feeling the damp spots appear on your skin. You sigh at the sensation. He eventually captures your lips again, pulling you into a kiss that begins painfully slow, but he wastes no time, gently gripping the back of your head to apply even more pressure to the kiss, his lips slotting and moulding against yours, tongue sliding against them, and you let him in with greatfullness.

The feeling of his tongue breaching your mouth, eagerly licking into it makes you moan softly, slipping your fingers into his hair, dragging them through the locks ontop of his head, pulling delicately at the roots to which he grunted. Your tongue joining the kiss as it clashed and swirled against his hungrily, lips becoming slightly sore from the sheer pressure of the action, yet it felt awfully good. "I'll give you everythin baby, everythin you want," he whispered between breaks, the both of you gasping for air against the heat of the kiss, your body desperately pressing against the firmness of his chest, his sturdy arms caging you in in response.

His hand moved to the zipper of your dress, breaking from the kiss momentarily to give you a look of ask. "Please," you urged, pressing your hips firmly against his as even more of a 'yes'. He groaned softly, eyebrows creasing at the action. He pulled at the zipper, sliding it down enough so he could push the straps of your dress down, whilst hiding his face in your neck as he slathered kisses all over your skin. "Oh-" you gasped, inhaling sharply as he slid the top of your dress from its place exposing the lace of your bra. The sight making him sigh once he lifted his face from your neck, eyes travelling hungrily over your breasts covered by the bra.

His arousal deepened, and you felt it clearly through his jeans, gasping softly at the feeling of his hardness against your clothed cunt. It simply made you want more faster. "Joel-" you urged. "I know baby," he replied, still marvelling at the sight of your breasts before him. "Joel- let's go to bed," you encouraged, to which he pressed another kiss to your lips, and again. "The bed can wait," he retorted, hands bracing at your hips, acting as a guide to push you to the couch, looking up once you hit the couch, watching him stare you down, a stare that caused fluttering throughout your body, warmth growing rapidly in your stomach. Not a moment later he's caging you in, arms either side of your head as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, kissing his lips sloppily as you go.

Your no longer drunk only on alcohol, but on Joel. His smell of the masculine cologne that emitted from his neck. His large hands gripping at your flesh, broad shoulders crowding your whole self. it was all too much and not enough all at once. You unbuttoned his shirt keenly, sliding it down his shoulders to expose the tanned skin of his bare torso, your eyes flickering down to the prominent v line that disappeared underneath his jeans, which had become significantly tighter. You almost moaned at the sight of him half bare, trailing your hands along his smooth skin, feeling the toughened and firm muscle under your fingers. "Joel," you uttered, grasping at his fore arms to pull him closer.

"I know," he replied, "I know darlin' "

Your hips pushed upwards against his, desperately seeking some friction as you grinded your hips against his. He groaned as your clothed cunt made firmer contact with his crotch which was painfully hard by now. staring down at you with a fierce amount of hunger behind his eyes, pupils blown wide with lust and need as he gazed at your half exposed chest. Tugging at the fabric, your dress slipped further down your body, and he eagerly grabbed at your bra, one handedly unclapsing it at the back. "y' want me to touch you baby?' he murmured, smoothing his hand across the valley of your now bare breasts upon the whine you emitted. "God- Please," you urged. "you gotta tell me sweetheart," he responded, his face visibly twisting in pleasure at the sight of your perfectly shaped breasts, his hand big enough to take one in his hand, kneeding the soft fat of them as he watched your lashes flutter excessively and listened to the gasps that left your lips. "Gotta tell me what you want,"

"touch me please" you replied, looking up to him through your lashes, purposely pressing yourself against his erection growing heavy in his jeans. You could practically feel how big he was through the denim, see the shape of his dick through the fabric. You felt yourself growing increasingly aroused, wetness collecting between your thighs, feeling it dripping and dampening the flimsy cloth of your panties and shuddering at the feeling.

Joel hummed in response, "Can I take his off?" he asked softly, gesturing to the dress halfway down your waist. "Please," you whispered, nodding eagerly. You watched as he slid the fabric further down, his hands dwarfing your waist as they travelled down your body, until your dress was off, leaving your soaked panties the only source of cover. Joel groaned lowly at the sight of the wet spot on the lace cloth. "You're so damn wet already," he mumbles, "So fuckin wet, all for me?"

"All for you," you whined, watching him slide the flimsy underwear down your legs, and your body is all bare for him to see. "so pretty, so fuckin pretty," he praised, hands gripping at your hips, one slipping down to graze your inner thigh, "You want me to touch you? touch you here baby?" He asked, gently swiping his thumb up and down your pussy, gasping lowly at the feeling of how dripping you were for him. "Yes- Please god," you pleaded, your hips bucking up into his touch, "Don't stop Please," you begged, shuddering at the feeling of him thumbing at your clit.

"I won't darlin' your doing so good, so damn good" he praised, marvelling at the sight of your glistening cunt that was no doubt aching for him to touch more. His fingers circled around your clit like he loved it, completely engrossed in the sweet sounds you were making.

"that's it baby-" he murmured, watching your face contort with sheer pleasure as he circled his finger around your entrance, feeling it dripping with arousal. You let out a choked moan as he pushed a finger gently into you, stopping when it reached the knuckle. "Oh fuck- joel," you whimpered, "Fuck," you whispered, the sight of his large and calloused finger sliding in and out of your pussy made you moan, feeling so full by just one of his digits. "Good girl," he praised, his other hand traveling upwards to cup your breast, kneeding the soft flesh as he set a pace of sliding his finger in and out of your dripping entrance, moments later adding a second. Your cunt clenched around the size of his now two fingers entering you at a staggering speed, you craned your head down to capture the sight below, Joel's large dampened fingers slipping in and out of your pussy as his thumb rubbed against the most sensitive place on your clit. Gasping and clenching helplessly, the warm feeling deep in your stomach grew, filling you with esctasy.

The sensation was so big, so much that you felt close already, your whines becoming more louder as you reached that euphoric feeling you were chasing. "Joel, God im gonna-fuck joel!" you cried out desperately. "thats it, cmon baby," he urged, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, not giving you any relief, not that you wanted any anyway. you gave a strangled moan, struggling to catch your breath as the warmth in your stomach grew and grew, and it finally snapped, gripping onto Joel's bicep for support as a indescribable feeling of pleasure washed over you.

Your body shuddered as you came, your cunt clenching and fluttering around his fingers as he watched your eyebrows knit together in pleasure, eyes closed as you moaned at the feeling of your orgasm. "Fuck," he groaned.

His eyes marvelled all over you, gasping lowly at the sight of your glistening pussy before him. Damp, sweaty skin shivering from the aftermath of your orgasm. "Fuck baby," he commented, hand rubbing at the soft flesh of your thigh encouragingly.

Your hands tugged on his biceps, urging him into a kiss as you came down from such a high. Your tongues roughly intertwined as you grasped the back of his head, yours and his damp skin clashing and smoothing together. His hands swept round your back, gently gripping the skin. The both of you pulled away for air, and you looked up to meet his eyes.

Half lidded eyes flickered up to meet yours, his styled hair had come loose, tumbling over his forehead as it stuck to his skin, lips swelled and parted in breath. "I wanna feel you," you whispered between pants. His eyes studied yours for many seconds. "Fuck-" he mumbled, giving you a swift once over before his hand came to the back of your neck. "yeah? " he drawled lowly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The buttons of his jeans soon came undone, and he discarded them swiftly as they came down his legs. Not much was left to imagine when you saw his hardened dick against his boxers, the sheer size behind the dark fabric causing you to shiver.

The more skin uncovered, the more you yearned and ached to feel him, to wrap your hands around his broadness. To have his hold you firm against him whilst you took in every single sensation. You audibly moaned at the thought as he rid himself of all clothing, staring at the sight infront of you.

He was so big, beyond what you imagined, your mouth felt wetter than ever before. The muscles of his stomach and the prominent v line that drew the path to his dick were unbelievable. His dick was hardened, thick and glistening at the head with pre-cum, enough to make your mouth water. "Joel," you uttered, grabbing at his shoulders once you had took him in, but it still didn't feel like you'd looked enough. "I know sweetheart," he replied, sitting back into the couch as you swung a leg over his, his hands finding your hips. "You sure?" he suddenly interjected, giving your sides a encouraged squeeze as you nodded. "m' sure," you replied a little dazed, feeling the wetness gathering between your thighs once again.

You felt his dick against your cunt, and the both of you gasped. Joel rose from lying back on the couch to meet you, desperate to properly wrap his hands around your middle. Almost immediately, you lifted your hips. Watching as his cock came even nearer to your entrance as you lowered yourself down. The head of his cock breeched you, and you gasped as the sensation, his dick nudges inside of your dripping cunt, and you gladly let it. Joel groaned as he felt and watched you sink down onto him, welcoming your pussy as it clenched around him immediately. "Joel-" you choked out, biting down on your lip harshly once you reached the hilt. "So fucking big," you groaned, and he huffed a laugh. "You can take it baby trust me,"

"trust me, just relax," you hear him whisper into your neck, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the skin on your shoulder.

His hands pressed against your hips, uttering a curse as you began to move, rocking your hips weakly against his. "Fuuck," he whispered, watching your face stirred with pleasure as you moved up and down on his cock with a quickened pace, the hands on your hips guiding your moments encouragingly. "So good baby," he urged, groaning as your cunt clenched around him. Your whines filled the air, the sounds heightening when his cock hit a particular place inside, sending a indescribable feeling down your thighs, and a chill spreading down your spin.

Joel watched as your tits bounced in a soft motion at the movements, so perfect looking, just like the rest of you in this moment. "That's it sweetheart," he said, capturing your lips in a searing kiss right in the heat of the moment, pressing you against him as you rode him. Your nails scratching at his back, clawing at the skin. Your head was in the clouds, moans muffled against his lips as his tongue ran against your bottom lip, kisses sloppily shared. That familiar feeling was building in your stomach, the warmth beginning to heat up, swirling. "M' close," you whined between kisses. clenching your thighs around his legs to hold onto him tighter. "I know baby,"

The sounds filled the room, skin slapping together, quickened and desperate pants and breaths, groans and whines that grew louder as the two of you became significantly closer. Joel raised his hips up to meet yours with every bounce you did on his cock, beginning to fuck up into you, fingers digging into your skin daring to leave bruises from the pressure. Your eyes rolled upwards, lips parted to form an 'o' shape as he fucked up into you. The size of his dick was overwhelming, filling you to the near brim with pleasure, smacking against that one place deep inside that made you groan and curl your fingers into his hair, shuddering at the relentless pace of his thrusts.

"good girl," he lowly reminded, his perspirated skin pressing against yours, even firmer with every motion. "knew you could take it," you hear him groan into your skin as he grew closer and closer, you knew by the act of his thrusts becoming sloppier and his moans becoming more strangled.

You came probably harder than you had ever before, crying out from the sudden snap of your orgasm, launching a burst of pleasure all at once as you writhed and clenched around his dick still pushing in and out of you, but Joel wasn't far away from his either way. He groaned shakily as you felt him swiftly pull out just after he got you through your high. You shuddered as you felt him leave you, immediately missing the feeling of him being so far and deep into your pussy. Seconds later thick stripes of white painted your stomach, and the both of you collapsed on each other, bodies heaving and panting as you both came down from your high's, Joels arms still cradling your back tightly, hands smoothing up and down your warm and damp skin.

He looked ridiculously good even now, the small collection of fine lines coated with a sheen of sweat, and his eyes slightly weary as he looked you over. "okay?" he murmured, smoothing back your unruly hair, to which you nodded.

"Joel?"

"Mm,"

"we can go to bed now,"

Thank you for reading! Make sure to leave a like, or give your requests, would be very much appreciated. I will start writing for other characters and will release a list soon on who i will write on. Thanks lovely's <3

[honeipie]

TWO MINUTES

katsuki x fem!reader

synopsis: your child is learning how to brush their teeth for the first time, but need a little extra motivation

“torami, baby, at least hold it for me-“

“no!” your little girl went running out of the bathroom making you throw your head back with a groan.

“it’s not gonna hurt you! it’s just a toothbrush okay?” you walked out of the bathroom to chase your little girl. torami was about three and a half, so you were trying to teach her how to be a bit more independent. she wasn’t up for it though. at every turn she’s given you some sort of problem.

you stopped in the living room where katsuki sat reading his book. there was a lump of blankets on the couch next to him moving more than regular blankets should. the annoyance you once felt dispersed from your body as you walked closer. carefully you plucked the book out of his hand and placed it upside down on the table so he wouldn’t lose his spot.

“i was reading that” but even through his feigned irritation he placed his hands securely on your waist.

“hm were you? didn’t notice” you placed your head down on his shoulder eyes going over to the restless lump of blankets “i dunno what to do with her kats. no matter what i do she just doesn’t wanna brush her teeth”

he let out a scoff moving his one hand up and down your side “you gotta be firm that’s why. can’t let her wiggle away”

speaking of wiggling away, torami had enough time hiding under the blanket and decided to crawl out slowly, but she wasn’t fast enough. katsuki grabbed her one ankle and pulled her right back to the both of you. giggles erupted from her tiny body as he flung her over his shoulder “watch and learn”

the two of you got up from your spot on the couch and headed back into the bathroom. katsuki placed your daughter on the counter her face still flushed from laughter.

“listen brat, you have to brush your teeth-“

“no!”

"hey! you can't just tell me no! i'm your fa-"

"no!"

katsuki looked back at you in absolute disbelief and all you could do was give him a smirk "c'mon kats, put your foot down. be firm."

katsuki didn't give you any type of look. instead he took the classier route, flipping you off. you didn't have time to be shocked, your daughter did that for you.

"daddy that's not nice! say sorry!"

his eyes widened as he sputtered to get his next words out "what? but she- that's not-" with an annoyed huff he placed two fingers on the bridge of his nose "fine.. i'm very sorry y/n-"

"it's not y/n. it's mommy!"

"i'mverysorrymommy. are we happy now?" he asked looking between both of you.

"yeah, that's fine" you shrugged deciding that was enough teasing for today. with a relived sigh, katsuki went to reach under the sink. the three of you had went toothbrush shopping hoping that it would make her more excited, you were both wrong.

"alright pick one of these you wanna use" his eyes scanned the selection of toothbrushes just as hers did. he scoffed seeing the one at the end. he lifted it up giving you a confused look "how the hell did this get in there?" in his hands was a deku themed toothbrush.

"i mean we were just letting her pick up any toothbrush she wanted. maybe that got into the mix"

wanting to be in the conversation, she leaned her tiny body over to see which one you were talking about. her eyes got big at the sight of the green colored toothbrush in his hand.

"i want that one! the green one!" leaning over just a bit more she was successful grabbing the toothbrush from his hands "uncle deku!" she squealed showing it off to you "mommy it's uncle deku!"

"that's right amibaby! i'm glad you found something you like, and so is daddy" you placed both hands on his shoulders feeling them tense up at the toothbrush "let it go blondie. just be happy that she's excited to brush her teeth" He nodded straightening up his back.

"nice toothbrush you got there kid. now we put some toothpaste on" katsuki grabbed the kiddie toothpaste from its cup on the sink. he placed a pea sized amount on the tiny toothbrush before placing the cap back on “and now brush”

torami looked down at the toothbrush and then at him. her chubby little hands switching the toothbrush from one hand to the other until she reached it out to them “you do too”

if there was one thing you could both agree on, it was that your daughter had this power over both of you. the way she tilted her head so slightly, and made her eyes look just a bit bigger. it always seemed to work.

“let’s do it” you said scooping her up from the counter. the three of you made your way into yours and katsuki’s shared bathroom. gently, you placed her down on this counter and got your own toothbrush ready. katsuki reached for his, which looked like it had been used for a good while even if he had just replaced it.

“now remember we have to brush for how many minutes?” you asked setting up your phone. one of the ideas you saw that worked with other kids was playing a fun little video with music and a countdown.

“two mommy!” torami said an excited look on her face.

“alright! three.. two.. one.. go!” at the same time you all started to brush your teeth as the music started. which was quickly drowned out by the sound of aggressive brushing from your husband. turning your head, you watched as he aggressively scrubbed his teeth, making sure to reach every single one.

torami looked at him rather concerned and shook her head “daddy not like dat” the toothbrush still being in her mouth affected her words slightly. torami went to stand up right in front of him. reaching both of her hands out she placed them over his. he stopped watching as she moved his hands gently back and forth “be nice..” she mumbled.

katsuki almost melted on the damn spot. he focused on her face, the face that he helped make. the one that was a perfect mix of both you and him. she had the same messy, blonde hair pulled back into two ponytails. but the eyes were all your doing. every time he looked into them he thought of you. the day you told him that you wanted kids, the day you told him you were pregnant. damn, he remembers them like it was yesterday.

he snapped out of it when you bumped your hip into his. all you did was give him a look, and he knew exactly what it meant.

‘you good?’

He sent back a nod your way along with moving his arm to rest lazily around your waist.

‘i’m good’

this became a special moment in the day for each one of you, though katsuki would never admit it. you could tell by his actions. how he would pick torami up, and turn her upside down mumbling something about ‘time to brush’. or how he would usually take night shifts, but now somehow ‘his schedule didn’t benefit him anymore’.

you never brought it up though. katsuki loved in his own way, and you loved it.

.

.

a/n: a little extra to brighten your day :)

torami sat in her college dorm room on her newly decorated bed that she'd be sleeping in for the next year. it was a hard concept to grasp, being this far from home even though she begged you both to go here. there was an unfamiliar twisting in her stomach that she couldn't quite place.

her eyes glanced to the open window that had been decorated with white curtains. the sun had already set, even though she felt like she had been sitting here for only a couple of minutes. you and katsuki had left early that afternoon. he insisted that you all woke up early to get a head start before the rest of those "extras". the one trait that he most definitely didn't pass onto your daughter was being an early bird. so even though she complained through half of the process, she was happy to know that she wouldn't have to stress setting up with a sea of people wandering through the halls.

deciding that it was time to stop wallowing on her butt, torami got to her feet to get herself ready for bed.

right before she could go into her bathroom, she heard soft vibrations from her phone. leaning over, she noticed your face flash across the screen. torami answered it as she headed into the bathroom.

“hi mom. i’m alright if that’s what you called for”

you shuffled on the other end of the line before showing your full face “hi baby! don’t rush me off the phone so quick! i just wanted to see you settling in and say goodnight. you’re not out partying are you? is that a boy?”

“better not fuckin’ be!” katsuki yelled across the room and quickly made his way over into the camera “where the hell is he?”

“mom was messing with you”

you had bent over in laughter, but the other two bakugou’s didn’t think it was that funny “oh boo! y’all are no fun!” you and katsuki bickered all the way into your shared bathroom, but all was forgiven when he sent a slap to your ass and whispered something in your ear.

torami groaned loudly on the other line “guysss! if you’re going do be nasty at least don’t do it while i’m on the phone please”

you set the phone down on the counter, propped up against the wall “no! we’re sorry, tora” your eyes glanced over to the cup on the side, yours and katsuki’s toothbrushes sitting next to each other. with a smile you grabbed it putting it in the camera “wanna brush our teeth?”

torami gave you a look through the phone, but quickly caught herself “i’m a little old for that don’t you think?”

you shrugged grabbing katsuki’s brush and handing it to him “not to us, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to”

torami thought for a moment before smiling “let me get my toothbrush”

[memezs-corner-of-the-osc]

Memez theory analysis ramble #2:

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF TPOT 17.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I’m dedicating a entire post to just the scenes with One and Doughnut because it tells us so much about One as a person:

Her demeanour throughout the altercation is something I’d like to bring light to.

One as a character is a manipulator who weaponises gaslighting by learning the characters psychologies to put them under pressure using her facade to sign as we’re all…..very aware by now.

What we learned here is are her downfalls: Temper and ego.

This is the face of someone who’s overly confident in everything she does, here she was not anticipating any failure in her plans.

I mean how could she possibly fail right, after all she’s tricked so many contestants-

And then reality hits.

Her egos down, she didn’t rehearse for this.

Now: let’s observe who one actually is under her act.

She resorts to violence to start with, trying to get a fear response from Doughnut.

Success: Ego back up tenfold.

She feels safe, like she has the upper hand.

So she starts her downfall: She starts giving Doughnut more information than he should know.

After all he’s going to take the deal, they all take the deal.

He can’t possibly escape and tell everyone after he just signs that little contract.

And so like the hawk she is she swoops back in to claim her prize, here she thinks she’s won in crushing the tough nut.

……unfortunately for her Doughnut is smarter then that and questions her, she hates being questioned as it ruins her whole shtick.

“Ughhh don’t worry about that Doughnut, after all is it so crazy to believe I’m just trying to help you?”

Mocking, condescending, setting up her “finishing blow”.

“Those friends of yours all agreed to it and look at all the fun they’re having!”

She can’t help herself and besides he’ll never get the chance to tell anyone so why not take the chance to unconsciously gloat to someone about it?

But it doesn’t work, he keeps questioning, second guessing and not trusting her act.

So she snaps and goes nuclear and goes to what she thinks everyone is can’t resist, themselves:

She tries acting like his friend one final little time, going with her plan B she set up.

She lays it all out, everything she knows about him and all the things in his life she rigged to happen in one last desperate attempt to regain control.

“Everyone gets to be a little selfish, it’s only fair.”

This is the line I’m going to go on a tangent on, it shows why One can do this guilt free.

She’s self justifying it constantly in her mind with a positive feedback loop, through her own delusions she sees fact.

It makes you wonder why she’s doing this and supports what I said last time, I still theorise she’s not here for the power, she’s here to make sure Two is powerless for her own pettiness.

One is a heavily Toxic abuser type person, she has warped morals that she bends to justify their own behaviour to herself subconsciously to get her own goals satisfied.

She has a ego or (at least acts like she has one to further her agenda) and will stop at nothing to the point of almost ending the universe to satisfy her needs.

And if she was friends with Two it would make sense if she used these manipulative tendencies on them and the other algibralians.

The scene with Six I will now circle back to basically confirms what I’ve been theorising with one quote: “She was supposed to be gone.”.

We have half her motive, this seemingly confirms One was exiled from the playground.

For what is yet to be seen.

Now let’s talk about the ending of the scene: What happens when someone defies her.

Let’s watch shall we:

She’s failed to make this man stoop to her level proving her psychology is wrong so she snaps, she’s never encountered this before.

She wants to feel like she’s won so she turns to a power trip, in a moment of rage she rips Doughnuts legs off and kicks him off to affirm to herself that she got the last laugh here and that letting him go is no issue.

I mean what can one man do without limbs-

And this right here is where I theorise Ones downfall begins, she got greedy adding Doughnut: a person who she knew could be a problem into the plan.

And where did it leave her?

With a wild card with context clues about what she was planning and with information about what’s behind her act on the loose, in her own greed I theorise she set in motion her demise.

And the kicker is even at the end she’s still affirming to herself that she didn’t really fail here by flying head first into the sun and that Doughnut was “just for good luck.“.

So I end off this essay of a post with a question: If this is how she treats her victims how did she treat her “friends”?

Thank you viewer for reading, the follow up to this will contain an analysis on Pencil (probably my favourite contestant by now) along with a few other misc things I want to talk about as this is already pushing it for this ted talk of a post.

[alltheirdamn]

Diamond Dolls | Joel x stripper!f!reader

Chapter I : Diamond Dolls Club

Series Summary: Running from the past led you straight into the arms of club owner, Joel Miller. He’s quiet, respectful, and devastatingly handsome. He’s nothing like any man you’ve come across, and it’s so hard to keep your heart guarded when he’s tearing down the walls. Chapter Summary: After fleeing Miami, you find yourself a spot at Diamond Dolls, and meet Joel Miller. The man who can change everything. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 7.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, Joel is in his early 40s reader is in her mid-20s, mentions of alcohol, strip club setting, nudity, sexual tension, mutual pining, eventual smut, explicit language… more tags will be added as the story goes A/N: Well, a very belated hello to everyone! I've been in the darkest recesses of a writers block, and had to drag myself to the surface to finally finish this one out. It's a slow start, but it's something nonetheless. Anyway, love you all lots and i hope you stick around for this lil story <3 xoxo

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

One week ago

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were holed up in the bathroom of a shady hotel, listening to the sound of pleasured moans coming from the bedroom. Your friend, Diana, had been going at it with some stranger for the last half hour, and you were scared. Private parties were typical for the dancers. In fact, Richie loved it. He loved being the type of owner who showcased all his dancers in whatever way he pleased. But you knew something was off when you stepped out of the black Escalade and into the hotel lobby. This type of party differed from the rest; you had this nagging feeling it would all go wrong.

And it did.

**

The sound of heels rattling inside your bag drifted through the empty parking lot as you neared your last resort. Diamond Dolls. Your gas tank—and lack of money—only got you as far as Austin, Texas. It wasn’t an ideal place to end up, but beggars can’t be choosers, so it would have to suffice. 

It was early afternoon, no doubt the slowest time of day since only a handful of cars were parked in the lot aside from yours. With the sun still shining, the neon pink lights of the sign above the door were turned off, but it still looked inviting. Diamond Dolls was already far different than your club back in Miami; it was different in a good way. 

At least, you hoped it was.

Cracking open the front door, you shuffled your bag over your shoulder and took a deep breath. This was your only shot at putting your life back on track, and you prayed you’d be given the chance to set things right. You couldn’t go back to Miami. Not now…not ever. The bridges you burnt could never be rebuilt; running away would only take you so far. 

A few patrons turned their heads your way when the sun streamed through the hazy club, no doubt an annoying reminder that the world still existed outside this tiny place. The entire club was drenched in low neon blacklights, the purple and pink hues painting the shadows in a sultry ambiance. Above you, diamond chandeliers hung from the ceiling, twinkling lights refracting off the gems that clung to the metal branches curving upward. The black leather couches around the stage were shiny and clean, another sign that this club was far better than where you came from. 

High-top tables scattered the open areas in the club's corner, tiny tea lights flickering on their marbled counters. Everything was meticulously detailed, as if whoever owned it had put all their effort into making this space unique and beautiful. 

Across the back was the bar; the counter stretched from end to end with an array of liquors stacked on glass shelves that hung from the wall. Behind the counter was a lone bartender busying himself with cleaning glasses. 

Perfect, you thought. This was your opportunity. 

“Hey,” you cautioned, walking up to the black countertop. “I was wondering if you guys are taking in any new dancers.”

“Can’t say for sure,” the bartender shrugged. 

He had a snug black top stretched across his chest and dirty blonde hair that stuck back along his scalp with too much gel. A few tattoos marked up his forearms, disappearing under the cuffs of his shirt and reappearing along the column of his neck. Instinctively, you knew he was well paid by any female clients who came into the club late at night. A few drinks and maybe a few flirtatious conversations made him a wealthy man by the end of his shifts. 

“Who should I be asking then?” You questioned, tapping your nails along the edge of the counter.

The bartender glared at your nails as they tapped repeatedly on the counter. You retracted your hand with an apologetic look, letting your arm hang heavy at your side. He bristled at your presence, obviously unamused by your friendly antics. Charm wouldn’t work here…noted. 

“Joel’s up in his office. Why don’t y’go bother him.”

“Joel…” You echoed.

“The owner?” He cocked a brow, almost annoyed that you didn’t know who Joel was. 

Obviously, you didn’t fucking know.

“Gotcha,” you nodded. 

The bartender slung the drying rag over his shoulder, retiring the glass he had been cleaning to the other stack of dishes. He pointed down the hall near the stage toward the black-painted door to the right. 

“You’ll find him in there,” he said.

You muttered a quick thank you before walking down the hall and past wandering eyes. Smoothing down your hair, you inhaled sharply before rapping your knuckles against the door. 

“Come in!” A deep voice called out.

You timidly turned the doorknob, peeking your head around the door with a sheepish smile. An older man, probably no more than forty, leaned back in a leather chair. He had on a simple black button-up, the sleeves rolled up his tan arms, exposing the muscles and veins that spidered from his fingers to his biceps. You lifted your eyes to his face, brown scruff covering his jaw, small patches of gray threading through the wiry hair. His plush lips curved into a slight grin, his bottom one plush and pouty—a very dangerous thing to see when you realized he could potentially be your new boss.

“How can I help you?” He asked, clearing his throat.

Your eyes shot up to his, immediately pulled under the dark brown waves that swam through his irises. You expected the club owner to be less appealing, maybe even a bit sleazy, given your track record of who you’ve met in the business. You didn’t expect him to be this attractive. 

You stepped over the threshold, unsure if you should shut the door behind you. You didn’t know Joel, nor could you trust him to be different from the other men you had encountered over the years. Despite your weariness, he motioned for you to shut the door and extended a hand toward the chair in front of his desk.

“I was, um, wondering if you were taking any new dancers?” 

You didn’t mean to word it like a question, but your uncertainty got the best of you. 

“Might be. Y’from here?” Joel asked, his southern drawl thick with each syllable. 

You slid down into the chair, letting your bag drop to the ground by your feet. Joel tracked your movements, watching you squirm under his heavy stare while he waited for your response. 

“Miami, actually. Just drove in this morning.”

“What brings ya’ to the Lone Star State?” He asked, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth. 

“Family,” you lied a little too quickly. 

Everything about being a dancer was a lie, and you weren’t about to change your ways for some owner you didn’t know. Joel stretched his arms over his head, his biceps flexing as he interlocked his fingers behind his neck. It should be a crime for someone to be this handsome; clearly, he knew what you were thinking because his lips twitched with an amused grin.

“Y’got experience in a club?”

“Yep,” you nodded. “Worked at my last one for three years.”

Joel’s eyes raked over you, lingering on your glossy lips and finally trailing back up to your eyes. Your skin flushed under his stare, your ears burning the longer he drank you in with slow, deliberate passes over your body as you crossed and uncrossed your legs behind the shield of his wooden desk. 

“I’m assuming you’ll want to see me dance,” you said, filling the dead air between you.

“Not necessary.”

You stared at your hands in your lap, crestfallen. This had been your last resort, and you were down on your luck now. You barely had a hundred dollars in cash left in your wallet, and you told yourself it was for emergencies only. You weren’t even sure it was enough to cover more than a night's stay in a motel somewhere in town. There wasn’t anyone you could call. There was nowhere else to go. 

A soft creak of his chair stirred you from your swirling thoughts, and you looked up to see Joel bracing his elbows on the desk. He was so much closer now, his age materializing into something softer as he studied you. Worry lines creased his forehead, smoothing out around his temples where his brown hair curled behind his ears. Even if this meeting was all for nothing, at least you got to enjoy a small glimmer of hope dressed as a beautiful Southern gentleman. You reached for your bag, ready to beeline it out the door and back to your car before you could make any more of a fool of yourself. 

“I don’t need an audition, sweetheart,” he said softly. 

You blinked up at him, both confused and hurt. He didn’t need to kick you while you were already down; he made it very clear you weren’t getting a spot in the club. You lifted your bag into your lap, shoving the chair back hard enough to make the legs scrape against the floor. 

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet me. Have a good day.”

The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, and they didn’t sound much better either, but you didn’t care. There was nothing for you here, and you needed to search for a place to stay before the day slipped away. Clinging to whatever dignity—and hope—you had left, you turned for the door without another glance over your shoulder. 

“Wait.”

Joel’s voice radiated through the room as your hand hovered over the door handle. You half-considered dismissing him and continuing with your hopeless day, but a nagging voice inside your head told you to stay. Steeling your emotions, you turned to him with your arms folded over your chest. 

“Come back at nine. You’ll be on stage tonight,” he offered, rising from his seat.

“What?” You balked. “You just told me you didn’t want to see me audition.”

Joel shoved his hands in the front pockets of his dress pants, his shoulders lifting slightly with a shrug. You waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to laugh in your face and shove you out the door. But there wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone nor a look of deception in his soft eyes. 

“I never ask my girls to audition,” he explained. 

“Why? What if I’m bullshitting you?”

“I’ll find out if you are, but I got a feelin’ you won’t let me down.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Well, thank you. I’ll see you tonight.”

Joel dipped his head toward you, his lips curving at the corners under his thick mustache. You were in deep shit, knowing you’d get to see that warm smile every day. With nothing left to say, you muttered another thank you and opened the door, disappearing into the hallway before he could retract his offer. 

An upbeat tempo thrummed through the air as you passed by the stage, and you took a quick peek at the girl spinning on the pole, her blonde hair falling in a cascade of curls down her bare spine. The handful of patrons you had spotted coming into the club were now crowded around the stage, enthralled in her body as she moved to the rhythm of the music. Crisp dollar bills scattered the glass stage, falling at her feet as she lowered herself onto her knees. Your steps faltered as her eyes connected with yours, a friendly smile ghosting over her face before she returned to her routine. Digging through your bag, you reached for your wallet and dished out a couple of bills to toss onto the stage. It wasn’t much, and you knew better than to lessen your savings, but it was enough to show your respect for her hustle. She understood this life as much as you did. 

**

You spent the better part of the afternoon driving around the city, familiarizing yourself with the sidestreets and small shops you would come to frequent. There hadn’t been much luck finding a place to stay for the night, but you hoped you’d have enough money after your shift to afford a room, at least for the weekend. You were more than ready to sleep anywhere that wasn’t your car and even more ready to have cash in your pockets again. 

Anxious to start your first shift, you circled back to the club much earlier than Joel had asked. The sun was barely kissing the horizon as you put your car in park, the neon lights above the building flickering to life as the night swallowed the sky. You were two hours too early, but you didn’t want to wait any longer. You wanted to be on the stage now. 

Searching through the bags of your belongings stuffed in the trunk of your car, you found your pile of club outfits and began piecing together different options to wear for the evenings. You laid out a matching pink lingerie set, the bra entirely rhinestoned in refractive colored jewels. It had done numbers on stage, a perfect outfit for making first impressions. You scoured for one more set—a just-in-case outfit—and found a thin, black lace teddy at the bottom of the pile. You could pair it with your taller heels and use it as your outfit for your second dance on stage. If you got that far. Everything else looked unappealing, but you’d have time and money to shop during the weekend for new clothes. New everything, if you were being honest. You were starting from the ground up in Austin. 

As you tucked your clothes in your bag, you heard the sound of car keys jingling behind you. It was instinct to tense up at any noise in a parking lot, and your defenses were always up to foreign noises. Spinning quickly toward the sound, you came face to face with the same blonde you had seen on stage earlier in the day.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you!” She apologized.

“No, it’s okay,” you assured her, releasing a shaky breath.

She was wearing an oversized shirt and gym shorts, her feet stuffed in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. With her hair pinned up and most of her makeup wiped off, you knew her shift was over.

“You must be the new girl Joel told us about. I’m Monica.”

She extended a hand toward you, and you quickly introduced yourself.

“Sorry, I probably look like a mess. I just got in today.”

Monica looked over your shoulder into the trunk of your car, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the mess. Everything left of your life was stuffed into only a few bags; it was embarrassing, to say the least. 

“Do you have family in town you’re staying with?” She asked.

“I do,” you lied. “I just haven’t had time to stop by yet and drop my things off.”

Monica looked between you and your car, skepticism crossing over her features. Dancers were great at lying but even better at discovering one. She saw through you in less than a minute.

“Let me give you my number,” she offered, pulling her phone from her purse. “When you’re done for the night, just call me. I’ve got an extra room you can crash in for a couple of nights if you need it.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. That’s, um, that’s way too kind of you,” you stammered.

She bristled at your words, shoving her phone in your hands to exchange numbers. You typed with shaking hands, the numbers mixing up as you deleted and retyped repeatedly. Handing the phone back to her, you waited for a text to ping through the air, and it did. 

You made your first friend in the new town and only hoped things wouldn’t end like they did in Miami.

“There’s plenty of girls still here for the night,” she started. “They’ll set you up in the dressing room and make sure you’re taken care of tonight. If anyone gives you hell, just tell them Monica’s looking out for you, and I’ll set them straight.”

You laughed softly at her gentle threat. You weren’t expecting such hospitality so quickly, but it was refreshing to know someone cared about you. After a few more minutes of casual conversation, she parted ways for the evening, and you were left standing in front of the neon lights beckoning you inside.

Showtime. 

The crowd inside the club had doubled since you had left earlier in the afternoon; the couches and bar tops were littered with groups of men and women all drinking high-priced drinks and shadowed in plumes of smoke. Three bartenders worked behind the counter, their routine flowing together as they worked in tandem, taking orders and making drinks. 

As you walked down the hallway by the stage, you noticed Joel’s door shut to the club. It confused you since the club was ramping up for the night; owners were usually out mingling with customers and dancers. You considered knocking on the door and thanking him again, but the thought passed just as quickly as it came, and you found your way to the dressing room. 

The room's bright lights were stark in contrast to the rest of the club, and you had to squint your eyes to adjust to the sudden change. Only two girls occupied the room, working on their hair in front of the vanity. The second you entered their eyesight, they turned with wide grins.

“You’re the new girl!” One squealed, her brown curls bouncing around her shoulders as she ran up to you.

She quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, her heavy vanilla perfume floating around her body and onto yours. 

“I’m Heather,” she said, pulling away. “And that’s Carolina.”

She gestured back to the other brunette, who gave you a shy wave. She was shorter than Heather, her hair cut into a sharp bob and streaked with caramel highlights. You waved back, introducing yourself to them both. Heather bounced back to the vanity, moving her array of makeup to the side to make room for your things.

“There are open lockers to the side over there, so feel free to stash away anything you need,” she explained. “If you need a curling iron or hairspray, you can always grab mine. And Carolina has extra body glitter, too, but I’m guessing you have your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some in my bag, but thank you. You guys are really sweet.”

You sat next to Carolina, dumping your makeup bag on the counter. Carolina worked at fixing her black nipple pasties, both of them on display under her sheer red bra. Her curves filled out her mini-skirt, the red material matching both her bra and Pleaser heels. She was fiery; you liked that.

“Joel said you’re from Miami,” Heather started. “This has got to be way less exciting than your old club, huh?”

You tensed up at her question, deciding on what to divulge. Heather and Carolina were sweet, but they were still strangers, and after last week…your guard was higher than ever. Pulling out your foundation and eyeshadow, you quickly started your makeup routine, dodging any invasive questions they tried to ask.

“How long have you both been working here?” You asked, flipping the focus onto them.

Heather fluffed her hair in the mirror, adjusting her purple halter top over her breasts before turning back to you.

“I’ve been here since Joel opened the club, so almost five years,” she stated.

“And I’ve been here for a little over a year,” Carolina said beside you.

“How is Joel?” You asked. “As an owner.”

Heather and Carolina let out a little giggle, clearly something private between them that went unsaid in response to your question.

“We like to say he’s like a recluse,” Carolina explained. “He hardly ever comes around during business hours. He just stays quiet and tucked away in his office. We pay him house fees at the end of our shift, and he leaves us alone.”

That piqued your interest. How could a club owner be so hands-off? Or maybe this was normal, and everything you had experienced in Miami was incredibly unprofessional. It was unprofessional, but you only assumed parts of it were like having your boss pimp you and other girls out for drugs and money. 

“Isn’t that weird, though? I mean, most club owners don’t do that. They’re usually—.”

“Creepy and a bit unsettling?” Heather offered.

You nodded slowly, focusing on yourself in the mirror as you lined your lips with a pink lip liner. 

“Joel isn’t like that, I promise you. He’s probably the most respectful man I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t even think he’s seen our tits,” Carolina giggled. “I can’t even tell you the last time I saw him outside his office during a shift.”

You shuffled off the vanity chair, returning to your bag to pull out your first outfit. As you peeled your shirt off, you mused over their casual information on Joel. You couldn’t make sense of it; how was Joel real? He must be too good to be true. He had to be.

“But how does he know what’s going on around here?” You pressed.

“His brother, Tommy, comes around, checks in on us, and reports to Joel if there’s anything worth knowing,” Heather shrugged.

“That’s it?”

“Yep!” Both of them said in unison.

Carolina strolled to one of the lockers behind you, retrieving a red garter from her back to tie around her ankle. You eyed her as she tightened the straps of her heels and adjusted her bra one last time. As she flounced to the door, she looked over her shoulder and gave you a slight wink.

“You’ll be just fine here, doll. I promise.”

The moment your heels clicked against the glass floor of the stage, everything in your mind turned off. You gave the DJ— Bradley, call me Brad, doll— your music of choice before stepping onto the stage: a slow, sensual track that made the crowd turn their heads in curiosity. Until then, Heather and Carolina had taken turns onstage doing routines to high-tempo songs, keeping the crowd engaged and rowdy. But that wasn’t your forte. 

You started things slowly, wrapping your hand around the pole and teasing the crowd with meticulous movements of your body that swayed to the beat of the music. Your fingers teased the outline of your breasts, cupping them seductively as you made eye contact with a few men sitting near the edge of the stage. Their undivided attention on your body was exhilarating; the promise of money dropping at your feet was enough to keep you going. Hooking your leg around the pool, you pulled yourself up, spinning in gentle turns as you flowed with the music. Everything you did was unrushed, and you took your time commanding the stage. 

Eventually, the tips started piling up on the stage. More clients drew closer, their eyes hungry and watchful. You slid onto your knees, crawling toward a younger man who hovered by the side of the stage, his button-up shirt disheveled and wrinkled—no doubt from a private dance he paid for only an hour ago. You graced him with an inviting smile, swaying your ass back and forth behind you. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he crooned, his voice barely audible above the thrum of the music. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” you replied. 

You knew how to bait them and make them chase after you. The thrill of it all was intoxicating, like the world was a blur around you, and all that existed was just the stage, the money, and your ability to make men crumble at your feet. Dragging yourself onto your knees, you coasted a hand down your abdomen, grinning as he tracked your fingers as they dipped over your navel. The money roll in his hand caught your attention, but you refrained from staring too long. Eye contact was crucial—if you kept him reeled in, the money would come to you. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked, breathless.

“More than you know.”

He curled a finger, beckoning you closer. You didn’t like when clients reached for you, but you saw the crisp fifty-dollar bill hiding in his palm. Like a moth to a flame, you drew closer to the edge of the stage, letting his fingers work at the waistband of your thong. He didn’t prod or explore; his touch was respectful and gentle. Blowing him a kiss, you tucked the money under the thin fabric before returning to the center of the stage to finish your set. 

The music drifted to an end, the applause from the crowd around the stage rippling above the sound as the DJ returned to his playlist of choice. You gathered the tips off the stage floor, stuffing them into your moneybag as you left your set. 

For some strange reason, you were disappointed to see Joel’s office door shut off to the club despite Heather and Carolina’s words. You understood he didn’t come out during business hours, but part of you wished he had watched your first routine. Wasn’t he curious? And why did you care to have him watch you perform? It wasn’t like you were trying to impress him…Okay, maybe you were… 

Passing the DJ booth, Brad gave you a proud smile and a small congratulations. You hurried back into the dressing room, frantic to change into your next outfit. Heather lounged along the benches in front of the locker, her nails tapping against her phone screen as she typed furiously.

“Ugh!” She exhaled. “Men suck.”

You giggled as you plopped beside her, enjoying the simple camaraderie of being in another sisterhood with other dancers. You missed your girls in Miami, but that wouldn’t stop you from making new friends. And from what you’d already experienced in your short few hours at Diamond Dolls, these girls were genuine and caring. 

“Who’s the guy?” You asked.

“His name is Michael. We’ve been seeing each other on and off the past year, and he’s just… I don’t know. I feel like I give all my time and energy and get nothing in return. You know what I mean?”

“I do.”

You knew it too well. You had never been lucky in relationships; they were messy, and it was hard to come across a man who truly understood your field of work. Some of them loved the idea of having someone overly sexualized and, in their words, slutty. They considered every stripper to be the stereotypical version of a woman, all glitz and glam and naked on display. You were more than that, but none stuck around long enough to find out. 

“Can I give you some advice?” You offered.

Heather stopped her typing, giving you her full attention. 

“Men don’t deserve shit. If he’s not going to give his time and dedication to you, then he doesn’t deserve an ounce of your respect. You’re worth more than that. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen.”

“Those types of men don’t exist,” she laughed. “They’re all sleazy and just want their dick wet.”

“I don’t know. I think there could be some good ones out there.”

Unwanted images of Joel flashed through your mind. There was no way you actually were thinking of him in this setting. You knew nothing about him or the type of man he was, so you couldn’t let your mind wander to the thought of him as a love interest, nor did you want that. He was a stranger and your boss.

“Well, if you find one, send him my way.”

“Absolutely,” you smiled.

As you both sat in comfortable silence, you worked at sorting through your wad of cash from your set. Smoothing out the bills and organizing them, you counted out over two hundred dollars. Not the best for your first routine in the club, but it was more than you had walked in with. And it was enough to hopefully find a place to stay over the weekend. However, Monica’s offer still remained in the back of your head. 

It was well past three AM when you decided to call it quits for the night. After two more sets on stage, you collected another four hundred dollars, leaving you satisfied for your first shift. Clients were generous, and the atmosphere inside the club was intoxicating. You wanted more, but you wouldn’t be greedy. Not yet, at least. 

After peeling off your clothes and replacing them with the sweats you had walked in with, you said your goodbyes to the girls and made your way to Joel’s office. A flight of butterflies swarmed in your stomach as your hand wavered over the door. Why did he make you so nervous? You were never nervous around men; you were usually quite the opposite. But Joel…You couldn’t get a read on him. You didn’t know what to expect, which made it so much worse.

“Hi,” you said quietly, softly cracking the door open.

You peered into the office, spotting Joel hunched over the desk, rifling through some papers. He glanced up quickly, his eyes shifting back down to the papers…Then, immediately right back up to you. You didn’t miss how his gaze drifted down your body, the hunger flickering to life behind his irises. You were in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, but you might as well have been naked with the way he undressed you with his heavy stare. 

Your name fell softly from his lips, his mouth curving up in that same grin you melted over earlier.

“Heard you were the star of the show tonight,” he smiled.

“I don’t know about that,” you laughed.

Sliding into the office, you shut the door behind you, leaving only a few feet of space between you and Joel’s large frame. Somehow, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his gravity pulling you forward.

“No need to be modest, sweetheart. Everyone was talkin’ ‘bout you out there.”

“How do you know that? The girls told me you stay in here all night.”

Joel leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. He wore that snug black button-up, and the soft material still deliciously clung to his muscles. His biceps flexed under the shirt, and you trained your eyes on him to keep the temptation of looking at bay. 

“Don’t worry, I hear everythin’ inside this club. Got eyes and ears everywhere.”

“How’d you get into the business?”

“That’s a story for another time, sweetheart. It’s late, and I’m sure y’wanna get home,” he chuckled. 

A mystery. That's what Joel was: an absolute mystery. You couldn’t dig under his walls, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let him dig under yours. If he kept his life close to his chest, then you’d do the same. 

“What’s your price for house fees?” You asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Flat rate of twenty dollars. You can tip out the bartenders and Brad if y’want, but I pay them well enough that y’don’t have to worry ‘bout it.”

“Twenty?” You gaped. 

His brows furrowed together, trying to understand your shock. You pulled a twenty from your money bag and walked toward his desk to slide it to him. 

“They charge you less in Miami?” He questioned, reluctant to take the money.

“No, it’s not that. They charged a lot more…Like over a hundred some nights.” 

It was Joel’s turn to stare at you dumbfounded; his lips parted in confusion. Wasn’t it normal for house fees to be that high? Or had you been lied to all these years? 

“You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” 

“I swear I’m not. That’s what the club owner charged us down there.”

Joel ran a hand down his face, his eyes squeezing shut. You swayed awkwardly, your fingers digging into the material of your money bag. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to cuss at you like that. Just surprised me, that’s all.”

“It’s okay,” you replied quietly. 

“M’gonna take real good care of you here, ‘kay?”

His words shouldn’t have affected you, but heat crawled up your neck as you tossed his words over inside your head. Once again, Joel was proving to be far different than what you were used to back in Miami, but you wouldn’t let yourself overthink it.

“Thank you, Joel. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t gotta thank me none, sweetheart. Y’get home safe. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

You cringed at the statement, another reminder of the web of lies you were already weaving. You’d tell him the truth eventually, or maybe not at all. You wouldn’t jeopardize your chance at a new life here.

Joel’s eyes did one final pass over your body, and your anxiety nearly drove you right into the door when you turned to leave. He needed to stop looking at you like that. You didn’t need any more fuel to the fire burning inside your stomach. 

**

You spent far too long hovering your finger over Monica’s contact information, debating whether or not to take up her offer of a place to stay. You had enough money for a hotel room, but the idea of saving it and tucking it away sounded more appealing. You didn’t know Monica— or any of these girls— but her willingness to help you earlier proved how loyal these dancers were to one another. 

Dialing her number, you tapped your fingers against your steering wheel, watching through your dirty windshield as patrons filed out for the night. You wondered which of these cars belonged to Joel and promptly stopped yourself from wondering about anything else. Why was every thought beginning and ending with him? 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, uh… Monica?” You reintroduced yourself, stumbling over your words like it was your first time speaking.

“Look who made it out alive in her first shift!” She said cheerily. “I’ll shoot you my address, and you can drive over. I’ve already got the guest bedroom set up for you.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to intrude on you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! You’re not intruding at all, honey. I’ve got the house to myself this weekend and could use the company.”

“I really appreciate it, Monica. Thank you.”

The city was nothing like Miami at night; the streets were empty, and the air was silent and calm. You kept the volume low on the radio as you drove to Monica’s house, enjoying the sound of the breeze as it drifted through the crack in your window. You focused on learning the street names as you passed every intersection, replacing the thoughts of Joel’s warm smile with things that would prove to be more important to you. But the memory of his eyes and smile still lurked in your mind, and no matter how many green lights you sped through, you couldn’t escape it. 

Monica’s home was tucked away in a residential neighborhood nearly half an hour outside the city, her tiny home the only one with a porch light still flickering under the dark sky. 

You barely opened your trunk when you heard Monica’s voice trailing down the driveway. 

“Hi!” She squealed. 

You turned to find her bounding down the pavement barefoot, her blonde hair tousled into a high ponytail and her pajamas hugging her curves. Setting your bag on the ground, you emptied your arms to welcome her into a hug, which should have felt awkward given you had hardly known her less than a full day, but with Monica…It felt normal.

“Thank you again,” you exhaled, your body slumping into her tight embrace. 

“Oh, don’t even mention it. My ex has the kids this weekend, so the place is extra lonely.”

“You’ve got kids?” You asked.

It wasn’t an accusatory question; you had danced alongside several women who were single moms supporting their children. Not to mention, Monica looked way too young to have kids, let alone more than one.

“I’ve got two,” she explained with a tired smile. “Twins, actually. Jackson and Luke. They just turned three in June.”

You shuffled your overnight bag over your arm while Monica led the way to the front door. The moment she opened the door, you were welcomed into a very lived-in home. Kid's toys littered the ground, while mismatched socks and shoes lay around in other spots. You smiled to yourself, seeing such a cozy place; you missed being in a home. Living in shady apartments and hotels left you bitter and yearning for somewhere to call home. 

“Sorry it’s such a mess,” she laughed absentmindedly. “The boys tend to destroy any clean area in the house.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all. I love it.”

She glanced back at you, quirking an eyebrow at your statement. It was true; you did love it. And you loved being welcomed into a home without feeling like a total burden. Monica gave you a small tour of the house before guiding you down the hall to the guest room. It was set up with a queen-sized bed and a small vanity in the corner—perfect for a night or two to get you back on your feet. 

Once settled in, you returned to the living room, where Monica was lying on the couch. 

“Thank you so much again,” you said, collapsing into the cushions.

“Of course, girl. I tend to be the motherly one out of the group, so if you ever need anything, you can always come to me. How was the first night?”

You stretched your legs out along the sectional, burrowing further into the pillows as you let your body unwind. Monica mimicked your movements, curling up under the small blanket draped over her body. 

“I didn’t know what to expect,” you admitted. “Being in a new club is always scary, you know? But everyone has been so welcoming, and the customers are great. And Joel is…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Joel is what?” Monica pressed, giggling slightly.

“He’s amazing. I’ve never met a club owner like him. He really cares about all of you girls, and it shows. I’m not used to that.”

“You had it bad out there in Miami, huh?”

You shifted slightly, trying to mask your unease with the question. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Monica; she hadn’t given you a reason yet not to, but the question was too fresh to answer. Glimpses of that night suspended themselves in your head, moments you couldn’t shake and only hoped you’d never have to relive. Everything you saw… everything you did… you wanted to forget. 

“Is it alright if we don’t talk about it?” You asked, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap.

“Of course, honey,” Monica said softly. “Whatever happened out there, just know it’s in the past, and you’re okay now. You’re safe here with me. I’ll take care of you, and so will Joel.”

Joel. 

Everything kept circling back to him. He was an enigma dressed in all black with a warm smile and a country twang. You were used to men being nice; they almost always had an ulterior motive for their kindness, but not Joel. His kindness wasn’t self-fulfilling, as far as you knew, and you could see how serious he was about the safety of everyone in the club. Maybe things would turn out differently here; maybe things would be okay. 

The early morning sunlight slowly began to seep through the living room curtains as you and Monica fell into endless conversation. Eventually, she mumbled something about needing a few hours of sleep before needing to run errands, and you took it as your sign to retire to bed. As you settled under the covers, you forced your mind away from the wandering thoughts of Miami. It was easy to forget everything that had transpired in the hotel room when you kept yourself busy, but in the silence, there was nowhere to run from the memories. 

“Alright, which one of you are we fucking first?” One of the guys asked.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing his belt, as he asked the question. Your stomach rolled with nausea as the realization hit you; Richie had pimped you out. This wasn’t a party; this was a setup. You swayed in the corner of the room, eyeing the door to figure out how to escape without being snatched up by one of the men. But there were too many of them and just the three of you to try and fend for yourselves. What did it matter, though, when your two closest friends were already drugged out of their minds?

You couldn’t have slept more than one or two hours. The sun was too bright inside the bedroom, and your body was coated in a thin sweat as you jolted from the bed. You were safe. You were in Texas. You were at Monica’s house. You repeated those reminders as you rolled out of bed and entered the guest bathroom. The reflection in the mirror felt like a stranger; your eyes puffy and your face pale. 

“You’re okay,” you whispered to yourself. 

Splashing cold water on your face, you took a few minutes to gather your bearings. The days spent on the road running from Miami were catching up to you, and so was the anxiety that you had kept at bay. 

“Hey!” Monica called from somewhere down the hall.

You braced yourself against the bathroom sink, swallowing the startled gasp that threatened to bubble out of your mouth. 

“I’m headin’ out to the grocery, so if you want me to grab anything for you, just shoot me a text! I left breakfast on the kitchen counter for whenever you’re hungry,” she continued. 

“T–Thank you!” You stuttered. 

Dammit, you were okay. 

You waited until you heard the sound of the front door closing before emerging from the bathroom. In your slim hours of sleep, Monica had cleaned up the house from the night before. Toys were piled in small bins beside the couch, and the miscellaneous clothes and shoes had disappeared, most likely to their respective places in the laundry or kids' bedroom. 

The lingering smell of breakfast led you into the kitchen, where a plate of eggs and bacon sat neatly on the counter. Monica was truly a godsend, and knowing you were in good hands settled some nerves. Settling onto the kitchen barstool, you inhaled the aroma of the plate of food and reached for the fork. Your hand wavered as you spotted a piece of paper tucked under the plate's corner, dainty handwriting scribbling across the note. 

In case you need it, here’s Joel’s number. 

You stared at the series of numbers before you, your throat dry. Joel. The man that was giving you a second chance at this life you had decided to live. Joel. The man with a kind heart and even kinder eyes. Joel. 

The one person who could change everything.

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ together; alternate version (정윤호 ♡ j.yh)

yunho's been away for tour, only this time, when he comes home you have very different news to share.

style: bullet drabble (alternative sequel to losing time) pairing: non idol!yunho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k tags/warnings: fluff, light angst, all things pregnancy and babies, light smut with breeding kink/preg kink (yunho is v happy she's pregnant essentially lmao) notes: this was fully inspired by an anon in my inbox who asked what would have happened in my short fic together if the news reader had to share was a pregnancy and how would yunho react to that. i don't take fic requests, but i love babyfic and this just turned into a little bullet and drabble fic i thought i would share with everyone.

[masterlist]

at the end of losing time, yunho leaves for tour and it’s a long one. a full two, two and a half months abroad in europe while you’re left at home in a different time zone missing him terribly. 

you find out the truth while he’s away, only a few weeks into tour when you start getting sick. it’s not something you can just spring on him while he’s on tour, it would distract him, it would stress him out, and frankly you just don’t know what to do. what decision to make. 

you know how you feel about yunho, and you knows how he feels about you….  but this type of news always changes everything. 

so you keep it to yourself, and you do your best to make it through. 

only when yunho does return.... you’re showing. it's not a lot, just the beginning stages of a curve at three months, but it's starting to be apparent if you’re wearing fitted clothing and it's not something you would be able to keep from him if he touched you. 

so when he comes home, finally, and texts you, asking if he can send a car to bring you to the studio, you want to say yes so badly but you can’t. 

this isn't a conversation you can have in front of anyone else so you say no. and you’re honestly terrified, so you lie, just a little white lie. you tell him you can't come and that you’re not feeling well, you’ll see him another day soon.

anxiety is fully eating you up and you’re spiraling, and you don’t know it but your texts fully freaked yunho out. he's convinced that you’re going to break up with him and waited until after tour to do it, and he's sick about it.

after dance practice, he sneaks out and comes to your place.

all of a sudden hes there, he’s knocking on your door. 

you thought you had more time, you still don’t know how to tell him, what to say- but he’s there 

and -

You're a mess. Your hair is tangled from running your fingers through it again and again, and you're pretty sure this sweatshirt has a coffee stain on it, but he's here and no matter what you have to face this.

He knocks again, a soft rap on the door, "y/n, please let me in,"

"Just a second," You call back, knotting your hair back into a bun and kicking on your slippers. Your stomach rolls with nervousness, but at least, you think, it's not morning sickness.

When you finally pull open the door your hands are trembling, and Yunho's pained expression doesn't help.

"Hey," You manage.

"Hi," His eyes dart over you, a crease of concern between his brows, "can I come in?"

You move to let him in immediately, stepping back into the apartment, "Sorry, of course,"

When you shut the door tight and flip the lock, silence fills the space, but somewhere within you, you find the strength to turn around and look up at him.

He shifts from foot to foot, clearly off balance at the strange discomfort between you, and finally he sighs, "Whatever it is," he says, "I know we can work it out."

A strike of panic lances up your spine at the thought he might already know what words are sitting like lead on your tongue, but all you can manage is a soft, "What?"

"You're avoiding me," His hands flex and release, "we haven't seen each other in months, and now I'm here, and you haven't even smiled. I don't think you're sick, I think something's wrong."

"Yunho," Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears threatening your eyes already. You wanted to hold it together, but this is already too hard.

He swallows tightly and keeps talking, his own voice laced with nerves, "I know two months was a long time, and I know I haven't been the best boyfriend, I should have called more, made more time for us, but, y/n," he takes a tentative step towards you, "I love you, and I really don't want to give up on us, please, don't,"

Things slot into place at his words and you shake your head, "Who said anything about giving up on us?"

The words hang for a moment, and then he softly exhales, "You're not breaking up with me?"

"No!" Your voice squeaks as you rush to dispel that idea, "No, oh my god, not at all,"

He grins, covering his face with his broad hands and sighing, "Jesus Christ," he sighs, "I was going out of my mind,"

"No," You shake your head again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like that."

He drops his hands and you can see the tension leave his tight shoulders, "Thank god," he smiles and steps towards you.

Panic bubbles back up inside you and you raise your hand to stop him, stepping back until your hips bump into the back of the couch, "Wait,"

His expression crumbles, "What's going on?"

You just have to say it.

"Um," Your stomach flips, "I do have some news."

"News," He repeats numbly.

"Yeah," You start to cross your arms over your chest but the realization that it would pull the fabric of the sweatshirt closer to you rockets through your brain and you drop your arms helplessly by your side. You have no idea how to tell him this.

"You can tell me anything," He says softly, reading your panic in a moment, "and you know, there's nothing we can't handle together."

"Yunho," Tears start to gather, making your eyes glassy, "I don't know how to tell you this,"

"I'm here,"

The panicked, terrified, anxious part of your brain scoffs, for now. You look away from him immediately, eyes glued to the floor. If this is how you lose him, then you guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

You take a steadying breath and jump, "I have something to tell you," you knot your fingers together, "and I didn't know how to tell you while you were away. I was afraid of distracting you or trying to figure this out while you weren't, you know, here,"

"Okay," He murmurs, taking a slow step in your direction, "I'm here,"

"A week after you left," You press your eyes closed tight, tears tracking down your cheeks, "I missed my period,"

He's silent. Your stomach churns again, but you keep going, "For a little bit I just thought it was stress, or something funny, I'm not always on schedule, but, then I started getting sick," With your eyes closed and with him so quiet, you can almost pretend you're practicing this speech, one of the many times you talked it through in the shower, lying in bed, pacing laps around your apartment. "I'm so sorry," Your voice cracks, "I'm pregnant," You can't bring yourself to open your eyes. "I know I should have told you," Tears rush forward a little faster now and you take a hitched breath, "and I know you don't want this, but you deserve to know, and I... I don't, Yunho, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm s-supposed to do, and," Yunho steps forwards all at once, his hands cupping your cheeks and drawing your face upwards, "Hey, hey," he soothes, voice tender, "look at me," Your eyes finally open, meeting his gaze. You expect to find him terrified, any twenty-something guy with a delicate career would be, but all you find in his eyes is soft comfort. There's no trace of the idol in him, just your lover, your best friend. "It's okay," He wipes away your tears gently, "sweetheart, breathe," "Why aren't you angry?" Tears rush faster, your breath tight. He smiles, "I'm upset you didn't think you could tell me," he dips forwards and presses a kiss to your forehead, "but y/n, I love you, this isn't... baby, this could never be bad news." "W-what?" "The timing's terrible," He admits, "and I also have no idea what we're supposed to do, but I don't care. I love you, we'll figure this out." Of all the reactions you expected from him, this hadn't even crossed your mind. When he leans back from you a little to study your tear stained face again, he smiles, and it feels like everything about your life is about to change. Slowly, you pull his hands away from your face and take a steadying breath, "Yunho," you manage, "you're an idol, and besides, we're twenty-six, we're not even married, we're not, what the hell are we going to do with a baby," He slides his hands over yours and brings them together, lifting them so he can press his lips to the back of your knuckles, "We'll do what people do, we'll make it work." You shake your head, feeling fully unmoored, but he keeps going. "I knew you were it for me on the second date," He says and the world slows to a stop, "the only thing in the world I'm terrified of is losing you, but this? y/n, I'm in love with you. Did you think I haven't imagined what our lives would be like?" "I," You can't find the right words, but you try, "I love you," His smile widens, and he moves quickly, tugging you forwards and wrapping his arms around you properly. He's much taller, and he has to lean over you, but he wraps one arm smoothly around your lower back and your hands settle on his shoulders. He pulls you up in one smooth motion, his free hand slipping under your thighs as you wrap them around his waist to hold you tight against him. He kisses your lips, tender relief in every press of his mouth on yours and he nuzzles your nose with his, "I missed you," he breathes. "I missed you too," You confess, your body finally relaxing and melting into him, weeks and weeks of tension bleeding out of your body, "so much," He hugs you close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck, and then he freezes, "Oh my god," his hand slides over your back, landing on your waist, "you really are pregnant," You know he can feel it, the change in your body when you're pressed flush against him like this, and you nod into his neck. "H-how," His hand pushes under your sweatshirt, searching your skin, "baby, how far?" "Fourteen weeks," He sucks in a breath, dropping you gingerly back to your feet, "I can't believe you didn't tell me," For a split second you think you're finally getting the anger you anticipated, but the giddy expression on his face says otherwise.

"I've missed so much," He snakes a hand under your hoodie, and lays his palm over your slightly distended belly, "I'm... god, I can't believe this," "You're not upset?" You check softly. "No," He shakes his head, and then he tugs gently at your sweatshirt, "No, but, can you take this off, can I see?" You're nervous again, but his easy energy wraps around you like a safety blanket and you nod, swallowing back any fears and pulling off the sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but your sweat pants, and a tight tank top. His eyes zero in on the bump immediately, and the sliver of skin between your sweats and the hemline of your top. Your hands rest over your belly, a nervous, protective instinct, "I know," He blinks hard, tearing his eyes away from your changing body and up to your face. "What?" You ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "You're really pregnant," He says, his voice a little rough, and then he reaches again until his hand slides over the smooth plane of your stomach, tracing the curve, "that's my baby," "Yeah," You breathe softly. 

Tears track down his face and he laughs, reaching for you again, up into his arms and nestled against him. 

From there?

He’s kissing you and he just can’t stop. 

You’re a mess from stress and tears, and hardly feel sexy, but he doesn’t care. He’s missed you, he loves you so much and this news is unexpected and terrifying but he’s so happy he doesn’t care

So holding you in his arms still, he takes you to bed

And you’re apologetic about the mess, your bed stand is covered with water bottles and anti-nausea medication and it hits him all at once how you’ve just been holding it together by a thread 

And he pulls you into the bed - “You’ve been sick, this hasn’t been easy, has it? I could have been there for you, I wish I had been there,” 

But you assure him that you’re mostly on the other side of it, you’re only sick like once in a while now not every second of every day 

And he’s like….. we are talking about that later, but right now how are you feeling? 

And you’re good…. but god, you missed him and now you’re just so relieved

So he begs you to let him take care of you now, he’s home, he can carry that weight if you’ll let him

And teary tender kissing in bed leaves his hands wandering, noticing how much is different, losing his mind over your bump and the new fullness of your breasts

And he’s hard and you’re touch starved 

And then he’s just losing it a little - kissing your body, telling you how much he loves every inch of you, how insane it makes him that he did this to you, how you made something together

And all the tenderness to dirty talk sends your brain into overdrive. 

It’s all just desperate needy, thank god we didn’t break up i can’t believe i got you pregnant sex

Worshipping oral, lots of body kissing and feral groaning from Yunho

His absolute insanity at being inside you like this - and you’re tighter, wetter, and needier than ever, and he’s just feral for it

“You’ll be the prettiest mommy, won’t you?” 

Just heaps of breeding and preg dirty talk

“God, I hope you want a lot of kids,” 

“You look so good like this, I’ll have to knock you up again,” 

“So pretty with my baby inside you,” 

And when you’re done, you fall asleep instantly. you’ve been sleeping so much more all of a sudden, and you suppose your body needs it, but it feels like you’re finally resting for the first time in weeks

When you wake, your apartment is clean, he got take out (but he’s googling best soups for morning sickness and texting Wooyoung cooking questions), and he’s making a list of everything you’ll need. He’s already making a plan of what you’re going to do. 

So even though the tour was terrifying, he’s home, he’s got you. You’re together on this, always.

[thefandomthings]

❝𝐀𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐢 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Aomine Daiki x f!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Suggestive (It's Aomine, duh), fluff

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I need more knb fics, pls. This is my first time writing for Knb, so I hope it's okay

Masterlist

 It will take a lot for Aomine to get into a relationship after his last one, he’ll never admit it but he’s afraid of getting hurt. (Again)

 So consider yourself lucky my dear.

 Daiki is a person who loves something or someone quietly.

 He’ll never really say he loves you out loud unless you haven’t seen each other in a long time or if you/him are having a bad day.

 His love language is physical affection and quality time. He’ll always be touching you with an arm around your shoulders or holding your hand or his hand on your tit.

 Speaking of boobs, well all know he’s obsessed with them. He’ll constantly try and catch you changing, or put his head under your shirt while cuddling just to be near the girls, as he calls them.

 Daiki is also extremely protective over you. He wants to keep you safe all the time. He’s lazy af, but whenever you want to go out just to run and errand he’ll be on his feet ready to go. My man will deck someone for looking at you wrong even in the slightest way.

 He calls you Idiot, dummy, and moron if you do something stupid or dumb. He does it out of love cause he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

 Aomine only uses your first name if you two are having an argument, or having an important conversation. Other than that your are usually called Babe or Baby.

 Your nicknames for him are Bubby/Bubba, Dai, Baby, and Kiki to annoy him.

 You two go on arcade dates at least once a month. Or you two go and kick it at the hoops downtown. Aomine plays a lot of street ball and knows a lot of guys down there.

 If you don’t know how to play basketball, he’ll gladly teach you how.

 If you already know how, you play 1 v 1 all the time, Aomine always ends up winning. But he will help you improve your skills.

 Teases the crap out of you any chance he gets. Loves seeing your flustered face.

 Aomine is totally the type to whisper dirty things in your ear while out in public. Not to mention he will just randomly grope your chest or butt whenever he feels like it.

 He’s also the type to rest his arm on your head not matter your height. He will also mess up your hair and use your head as a joystick whenever you sit between his legs.

 Daiki is a pervert at heart, whenever you are wearing a skirt and come to see him while he sleeps on the rooftop he’ll sneak a peak underneath.

 I feel like he’s a boob and thigh guy all the way. He will happily die between your glorious thighs and tits.

 Randomly leaves bite marks anywhere he wants. Adores when you have hickeys on your neck, fills his ego to the brim watching people comment on the purple bruise on your neck.

 Fucking loves when your wear his extra jersey to his games. It’s the motivation he needs to get going. Will completely crush his opponents just to watch you cheer for him.

 Pouts when you don’t give him his morning kisses or if you get up during your 2hr cuddle sessions when he wakes up.

 I 100% believe he is half Hispanic. He definitely knows Spanish and will call you names like Puta or Pendeja.

 If his mom here’s him call you that just know he’s getting a tongue lashing and the chonclas getting thrown at his head.

 He gets his accuracy from his Mom.

 It takes awhile for his mom to like you, she doesn’t want anyone hurting her baby boy.

 After awhile, she’ll treat you as her own daughter, and even teach you Spanish.

 Bonus if you already know Spanish, that’s a +1 with his mom.

 His dad liked you instantly, you were a lot different then his old girlfriend and welcomed you with open arms.

 Daiki has his dad’s ego, it’s like looking at the same person anytime they compete with each other, which is almost always anything they do.

 Aomine will totally be at any of your games/meets if you play sports. Even if he is late, he’ll be there cheering you on.

 Get’s jealous easily, especially if you talk to Kagami. If looks could kill, Kagami would be dead.

 Will have you against the door of his room, or pinned to the bed whenever he gets jealous. He makes sure you know that you are his and only his.

 His room is a disaster, clothes, old school papers, blankets etc.

 He try’s to clean his room up a bit before you come over. It’s adorable, it usually doesn’t look to much different just the floor was clean cause he moved everything to the corner of his room and covered it with a blanket.

 Loves to get you small gifts. He saves up for months to get you a beautiful promise ring. And what made it even better, you got him a promise bracelet that he wears absolutely everywhere.

 He makes sure to take it off before a game or when does anything that could break it.

[thedemoninme141]

The Maiden Of Death Part 5

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Wordcount: 10.5K-ish

Part 1 -- Part 2-- Part 3- Part 4--Part 5

Summary: Enid's plan gets Wednesday a bit close to you, and she found out, who you were, on the night of Raven.

A/n: Sorry for taking so long with this, really was so busy with life and all. It's kinda hard to maintain time for me these days. But I am trying my best :(

Warnings: Down bad Wednesday? A small reveal at the end? Rom-com turns into horror?

“I will now present to you—” Enid spun dramatically, “—the Six-Part Dating Strategy!”

Wednesday stared blankly. “I will burn this room down.”

Enid ignored her.

PLAN ONE: “Subtle compliments!” Enid clasped her hands together. “You know, like, ‘Oh wow, Y/N, your hair looks really nice today even with all that blood.’ or ‘Wow, Y/N, I love the way you almost murdered me during fencing'."

Wednesday’s face remained impassive. “I do not compliment people.”

And yet, here she was, standing across from you in the fencing hall, rapier in hand, watching as you sidestepped her latest attack with infuriating ease.

Your movements were a spectacle—fluid, efficient, entirely unreadable. But this time, you barely engaged in offense, your sword more of a guide than a weapon, your real focus resting on evasion. You moved as though the air itself bent to accommodate your existence, as though gravity had little hold on you.

And it irritated her.

No. That wasn’t quite right.

It fascinated her.

Wednesday gritted her teeth and struck again, but you were already gone before the tip of her blade could meet your shoulder, ducking at the last possible second, gliding just out of reach.

Why?

Why weren’t you hitting her?

Even when she had given you an opening, moments where any experienced fencer would have capitalized on a misstep, and yet you never took them.

Not out of pity. No, you weren’t the type.

It was deliberate.

Intentional.

You were training your reflexes, perfecting your dodging. Using her.

Wednesday felt an unexpected warmth creep into her chest at the thought, a strange mix of irritation and satisfaction. That you deemed her skilled enough to be a challenge for your evasive techniques, that you were using her in your own training, was something she couldn’t quite bring herself to dislike.

But it also meant she had yet to truly test your limits.

Her grip tightened.

She lunged.

You let her get close this time—dangerously close—but at the last moment, you twisted your body, turning just enough for her blade to skim past your side, and in one fluid motion, your rapier met hers with a decisive clash, knocking her weapon off course.

Her balance wavered.

Your hand met her shoulder.

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back, the cold flooring of the fencing hall beneath her as your sword hovered just inches from her throat.

Damn it.

Wednesday sat up, watching as you turned away, as you always did after your fights, moving to the benches to remove your gloves. It was an unspoken routine now—you never lingered, never exchanged words. You were a ghost even in the moments of your victories.

She just… didn’t understand it.

Her fingers curled against the floor as she inhaled sharply.

Compliments.

Wednesday nearly grimaced.

This was going to be simple. A compliment was nothing more than an observation, a statement of truth. She was always honest—this was no different.

Her lips parted.

“…Your—”

You glanced at her, barely acknowledging her presence.

Wednesday inhaled.

Just say it.

“…Your, uh…” she hesitated, feeling an immediate and unfamiliar heat crawl up her spine, like her body was physically rejecting the act. She forced herself forward, jaw tight. “Your reflexes are… adequate.”

A long silence followed.

You blinked.

It was the most she had ever seen you react to anything.

You just stood there, half in the middle of removing your glove, staring at her with an expression that very clearly read: What the hell is wrong with you?

Wednesday wanted to die.

Or at the very least, vanish into a void where she could pretend that hadn’t just left her mouth.

Your head tilted slightly, as if trying to decipher her.

Wednesday felt something in her stomach twist violently, but she held her ground, keeping her expression unreadable.

Finally, you gave her a slow, almost lazy nod. And without a word, you finished pulling off your gloves and walked out of the fencing hall.

Wednesday remained rooted in place.

A sharp exhale escaped her.

That was…

She didn’t even know what that was.

"PLAN TWO: “Mysterious gifts!” Enid beamed. “Leave little trinkets! Like, oh! A fancy dagger or—wait, you’d probably leave something super creepy, wouldn’t you?”

Wednesday considered it. “Bianca's severed hand might be an appropriate token.”

“Wednesday, NO.”

She had the perfect item in mind.

Wednesday watched from the corner of the hallway, watching from a safe distance as you stepped out of your room.

There it was. The small, unassuming black box, sitting neatly at your door.

You stopped.

Wednesday observed the way your gaze narrowed, suspicion flashing across your features. You stared at it for a moment too long, as if assessing whether it was some kind of elaborate trap. Your hesitance was telling. Her lips curled slightly. You were always prepared for the worst. She liked that about you.

Had no one ever left you a gift before?

The thought made something unpleasant stir in Wednesday’s chest.

Wednesday noted the way your shoulders tensed, the way your gaze flickered over the hallway, sharp and calculating. As if you were analyzing every possible threat before approaching the box with the same caution one might have when dealing with an explosive device.

At least you weren’t foolish.

You knelt down, carefully lifting the box, turning it over in your hands as if weighing its contents. Then, finally, you opened it.

Wednesday’s breath slowed.

Your eyes widened. Just barely.

Wednesday had seen you fight, had seen you maneuver through attacks with unnerving ease, had seen you reduce your enemies to mere obstacles in your path. But this—this fleeting moment of surprise—was something else entirely.

Something rare. Something fascinating.

Your fingers brushed over the smooth surface of the skull before you lifted it from the box, holding it in your hand... as if caressing it.

Wednesday felt something unfamiliar stir in her chest.

Satisfaction.

She had done this. She had caused this reaction in you.

But then without hesitation, you turned your head—directly toward where she stood.

Wednesday pressed herself further into the alcove, heart rate steady. You hadn’t seen her. That much she was certain of.

When she risked another glance—

You were gone. Your door remained open.

“What is this for?”

Wednesday stiffened.

Slowly, she turned her head.

You stood beside her.

Wednesday ignored the way her pulse had jumped at the sudden proximity.

Her mind scrambled for an answer. This was supposed to be a mysterious gift.

She had not anticipated you catching her in the act.

It was supposed to leave you wondering.

Not questioning her.

Words, normally so precise, felt fleeting in her mind. She had not prepared for an interrogation.

“…It is a talisman,” she finally stated, voice level despite the odd twisting sensation in her chest. “A symbol of fortune.”

You regarded her, eyes narrowing slightly.

Wednesday refused to squirm beneath your scrutiny.

After a pause, you asked, “Why didn’t you just give it to me directly?”

Wednesday faltered. She never faltered.

Her mind worked frantically, scrambling for something that made sense.

“…It is a tradition,” she finally settled on, forcing her tone into something impassive. “A gift left to be discovered rather than handed over. It is more effective when received unexpectedly.”

Your eyes held hers for a long moment, dark and unreadable, before you hummed, almost as if you were amused.

Wednesday’s fingers twitched slightly against her palm.

"Goodnight," she said, abruptly turning on her heel.

No, she was not fleeing! She just had no further reason to linger.

And yet, long after she had returned to her room, long after she had laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, she could not erase the sight of your expression from her mind—

The way you had looked at her.

Like she was something worth understanding.

"PLAN THREE: Small gestures." Enid practically vibrated with excitement, clasping her hands together like she was reciting a sacred text.

"Subtle things that let her know you care. Like offering her her favorite dessert, or pushing her out of the way of a moving car!"

Wednesday hummed. "I'd rather push her into the way of a moving car."

Enid gasped in horror.

"Wednesday! That would hurt the car!"

You sat with your usual unreadable expression, quietly sipping a black coffee, right beside Enid, right in front of Wednesday...

A strategic choice on Enid’s part.

One that Wednesday refused to acknowledge as useful.

"I still think we should have a dedicated gaming club," Ajax was saying. "Like, come on, we have fencing, but we can’t have video games? Kinda unfair, if you ask me."

Bianca scoffed. "What, so you can lose to me in two different kinds of competitions?"

"Okay, first of all, ouch. Second, I’d totally win."

"In your dreams, Medusa Boy."

"Oh by the way, you should definitely join a club Y/n. " Enid asked you.

Wednesday noticed the way your fingers barely twitched, how your gaze flickered toward Enid before settling back onto your untouched food.

"Maybe hummers?" Enid suggested and Wednesday knew it was because she was there.

At that, Eugene nearly choked.

You said nothing.

Enid waited for a moment, then let out an awkward chuckle, glancing at Wednesday for help.

Wednesday didn’t bother offering any. Your mood was unreadable, but there was something… restrained in the way you sat, something distant.

If Enid noticed, she didn’t mention it.

But Bianca did.

"Let me guess," Bianca drawled, her voice laced with a thin layer of amusement. "No clubs. No interests. No social life. Just endless brooding in some dark corner."

Wednesday turned her gaze toward you, waiting for a reaction.

But you gave her nothing.

You didn’t look at Bianca. Didn’t acknowledge her presence. Didn’t breathe in her direction.

"You know, I’ve seen this before," Bianca said, voice laced with faux amusement. "The whole dark and brooding thing? It gets old fast. You might want to work on having an actual personality before people lose interest."

You didn’t even flinch.

You simply continued sipping your coffee, as if Bianca were no more than the air around you.

Wednesday wasn’t sure if it was self-restraint or if you truly didn’t care, but it was making Bianca’s irritation worse.

"Silent treatment, huh? Not surprising. I guess when you don’t have much to offer in a conversation, silence is your best bet."

Wednesday placed her fork down with a deliberate slowness.

"It’s amusing," she said, her voice cutting cleanly through the air, halting whatever Bianca had been about to say next. "How the most bitter individuals are always the first to reach for weak insults. As if degrading others somehow makes up for their own lack of control."

The table quieted.

Bianca’s eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" Wednesday’s gaze was unwavering. "You're attempting to provoke her because she refuses to acknowledge you. It’s a rather sad display of wounded pride."

A flicker of something passed over Bianca’s expression—frustration, maybe. Annoyance. "That’s not—"

"You lost," Wednesday continued, her voice remaining void of emotion. "Accept it and move on, like any self-respecting individual would. Or are you so insecure that you need validation from the one person who doesn’t even care enough to respond?"

The table went silent.

Bianca’s expression hardened. "Careful, Addams."

Wednesday tilted her head. "Or what? You’ll resort to more pathetic attempts at insults? I expected better."

"Wednesday," Enid hissed under her breath, clearly panicked.

Bianca looked like she was ready to kill her.

But Wednesday did not care.

She had watched Bianca push, had watched her try to tear into you, to get a reaction.

And Wednesday had not liked it.

She was not entirely sure why.

She only knew that she had acted.

But what truly caught her attention—what made her pause for a fraction of a second—was you.

You, who had remained still and silent throughout the entire ordeal.

Now, you finally looked at her.

Your eyes met hers, gaze unreadable, something flickering within them as you regarded her for a long, quiet moment.

A question that was never asked.

"What was that for?"

Wednesday had no answer.

"PLAN FOUR: Talk to her more! You need to talk to her more. Casual things. Nothing about death or destruction!" Enid announced, her hands gesturing wildly as if she were unveiling some grand strategy.

Wednesday gave her a flat look. "Both things that relate to her?"

Enid opened her mouth, then shut it again, blinking. "…Good point."

Wednesday had no trouble talking—when it mattered. When words were necessary, sharp, and deliberate. But the idea of casual conversation felt foreign, unnatural, something trivial and unnecessary. Words should serve a purpose, not be thrown into the void for the sake of social norms.

And that was how Wednesday found herself in botany class, standing beside you, a pair once again. It wasn’t surprising, everyone was too afraid to be partnered with Wednesday or You.

Oleander, a beautiful thing. Deceptive. Deadly. Wednesday could admire that. She could focus on that.

But instead, her mind was on another similar kind of poison. You.

She found her gaze drawn to you in spite of herself, taking in every precise movement, every quiet breath. There was something hypnotic about the way you worked, the way your fingers grazed the edge of a leaf without hesitation, the way you handled the plant as if it posed no threat to you at all. You were utterly unbothered, your focus entirely on the task, unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—with the way Wednesday was watching you.

Talk to her more!

Wednesday exhaled. This was ridiculous. But, if she was going to do this, she would do it on her terms. She picked up her shears, trimming a precise section of the oleander before finally speaking. “You work efficiently,” she observed.

You didn’t look up. “I prefer to get things done.”

It was a neutral response. Not unkind, not welcoming, but not dismissive either. An opening.

She debated her next words carefully. A compliment? An observation?

The silence stretched, and before she could overthink it further, she stated, “I assume your efficiency extends to more than just plants.”

This time, you did look up, your gaze meeting hers with mild curiosity. “It’s necessary.”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly. “For what?”

You hesitated. For a moment, she thought you wouldn’t answer. But then, you returned your attention to the oleander, carefully plucking away an unnecessary stem. “For surviving.”

Wednesday considered that answer. It was true, but also deliberately vague. You always did that—spoke just enough to satisfy a question, but never enough to be understood. It was a habit Wednesday recognized in herself, and that realization was... unsettling.

“Efficiency is a virtue,” she said finally, falling back into her work. “But perfection can be a limitation.”

You glanced at her, “What do you mean?”

Wednesday hummed, trimming a leaf between her fingers. “Perfection leaves no room for unpredictability. And predictability is fatal.”

You studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It was simply an acknowledgment, a consideration of her words as something worthy of remembering. Wednesday found herself gripping her shears just a little tighter.

For the remainder of class, the conversation continued in fragmented moments—small remarks, simple exchanges. And though the air between you never lost its tension, it was less suffocating than before. You still spoke little, but so did she. In some twisted way, it felt like a mutual understanding.

When the bell rang, Wednesday watched as you collected your materials without a word and slung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door, and before she even realized it, she was following.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, not consciously. But her feet moved before her mind could catch up, and soon enough, she had fallen into step beside you.

“You were avoiding striking me during our last match.”

You didn’t stop walking. You didn’t even flinch. But there was a flicker of something in your eyes when you looked at her, the kind of emotion that was impossible to decipher unless one knew where to look.

“Was I?”

“Yes,” Wednesday said, unwavering. “You had openings. You didn’t take them.”

For a moment, she thought you might deny it outright. But instead, you merely hummed in acknowledgment.

“You notice everything, don’t you?”

It wasn’t said with annoyance, nor admiration. Just another observation.

Wednesday tilted her head slightly. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“Do you always follow people after class?”

Wednesday tensed. She should have anticipated that. But rather than offering an excuse, she merely met your gaze, unwavering. “No.”

You nodded once. “Alright.”

It was a deflection. But Wednesday let it slide, because this was the longest conversation she had ever had with you, and despite herself, she didn’t want it to end.

She realized, with no small amount of frustration, that Enid had been right. Small gestures, small conversations—they made a difference.

Wednesday did not remember deciding to walk here.

She had left her dorm long before the first light of dawn, her body moving with its usual rigid purpose, but for once, she had no clear objective. At least, not one she could immediately justify.

She had simply walked, following an unspoken direction until her feet slowed, her gaze lifting to find you seated beneath the same tree she found you last time.

You hadn’t noticed her—or at least, you didn’t acknowledge her. Your back rested against the rough bark, legs stretched out, one knee bent.

Your breathing was steady, deep, eyes closed as if even the end of the world couldn't disturb you.

It was a familiar kind of quiet, yet somehow one that unsettled her.

The early morning air stirred strands of your hair with each passing breeze gently. You looked… calm. Too calm.

Wednesday hated how long she stood there, watching you.

She had made progress, hadn’t she? You tolerated her presence, which was more than could be said for the majority of those who attempted to get close to you. Others received a wall of cold indifference, but Wednesday…

You spoke to her the most.

You weren’t warm, nor particularly friendly, but she never expected you to be. That wasn’t the goal. And yet, the knowledge that you were equally as tolerant of Enid gnawed at her. But that was different. Enid was persistent, impossible to push away. Wednesday had earned her place.

Hadn’t she?

She noticed the way your gloves—were worn from use. You had been working last night.

Hunting.

And now, she needed to confirm it. She needed to watch you. Study you. She needed to know. She already has seen you enough in action and yet she needed to confirm it with her own eyes. Your precision, your efficiency—the real you.

“Have you done staring?”

Her breath caught—just for a fraction of a second.

You still hadn’t opened your eyes. You hadn’t moved. But you had noticed her, as if you could sense her presence without ever needing to look.

Wednesday’s jaw tensed, irritation flaring at herself more than you. She had not intended to be caught so easily. “You would be none the wiser if you had simply remained silent.”

“I was hoping you’d go away,” you murmured. “Clearly, that was a mistake.”

Wednesday ignored the dry remark, stepping forward and lowering herself to sit beside you under the shade of the tree. She kept a careful distance—not enough to invade your space, but just close enough to make it clear she had no intention of leaving.

Your head tilted slightly in her direction, your eyes still closed. “I didn’t say you could join me.”

“I don’t remember asking your permission.”

There was a pause. Then, a slow exhale—not quite a sigh, but something close to it. You didn’t tell her to leave.

A small victory.

She forced her thoughts into order. Conversation. Small talk. That was the goal.

Wednesday glanced at you, considering her options. “Are you always this early?”

“I can ask you the same question.” you countered.

She had walked into that one. Annoying.

But then, after a pause, you added, “I don’t sleep much.”

Wednesday turned her head slightly toward you, watching the way your fingers curled against your knee, absentminded but controlled.

“Why?”

You exhaled slowly, tilting your head back against the tree trunk. “A habit.”

Vague. Unhelpful. But she didn’t press, not yet. Instead, she shifted tactics.

“You usually use techniques that aren’t standard in fencing. Some of your movements resemble kenjutsu, but they’ve been altered for a different style of combat.”

“You’ve been analyzing me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Wednesday didn’t bother denying it. “I analyze everyone.”

“Hm.”

She waited for you to shut down the topic, to divert the conversation elsewhere, but instead, you merely tilted your head toward her, finally cracking open your eyes. The sun had begun its slow ascent, catching against your irises in a way that made something shift uneasily in Wednesday’s stomach.

She ignored it.

“What about you?” you asked, voice low, almost absent. “Where did you learn?”

Wednesday blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift of focus. She had prepared for resistance, not reciprocation.

"Fencing is an important part of Addams family tradition. My Uncle Fester trained me before I ever set foot in a tournament. My father also contributed, but his focus was on dueling rather than form.”

You nodded slightly, as if that answer made sense to you. “Explains the way you fight.”

Wednesday hesitated, the conversation unfolding easier than she had anticipated. For once, it didn’t feel like pulling teeth.

“You must have learned a lot in H/n.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake.

Your expression didn’t shift but Wednesday felt the subtle shift in the air, like the sharp, invisible drop in temperature before a storm. Your gaze hardened, the once passive calm in your posture turning rigid.

“I never told you where I was from.”

There was no accusation in your voice, no outward hostility, but that made it worse. It wasn’t anger—it was scrutiny. You were assessing her, picking apart the misstep with a practiced, surgical precision.

Wednesday’s mind raced through possible responses, damage control, ways to steer the conversation away from the pit she had just dug herself into. But nothing would be enough. Lying was pointless, you would see through it instantly. But the truth was just as damning.

Finally, you leaned back against the tree again, expression unreadable. “So, you do your research.”

Wednesday clenched her jaw, frustration curling deep in her chest—at herself, at the situation, at the way your voice held no visible anger, just quiet, measured understanding.

“I do,” she admitted. Lying would be pointless.

You exhaled slowly, gaze turning back to the sky. “I figured as much.”

Wednesday watched you, unsure of what came next. You didn’t seem upset, but you weren’t brushing it aside either. You were merely… thinking.

Not forgiveness. Not acceptance.

Just… choosing to let it be.

Wednesday wasn’t sure which was worse.

PLAN FIVE: Ask her to the Raven!

Not this again.

She was certain she had made herself clear—she had no interest in this year’s Raven. No interest in its frivolous spectacle, the music, the pointless dress. It had been a waste of time last year, and it would be no different now.

“You are fabricating this to make me attend the Raven.”

Without hesitation, Enid shot back, “YES!”

Perhaps she can use this now. “I had to conduct research before asking you something.”

You remained still, watching her.

“And yet,” Wednesday continued, watching you carefully, “I found nothing.”

Even now, you gave nothing away. Your face remained unreadable, your posture relaxed in a way that was entirely too controlled. As if you had expected this, as if you had prepared for it.

Wednesday’s mind turned, examining every angle, every possibility.

“No history. No records before Nevermore.” She tilted her head, voice measured. “It’s as if you did not exist.”

“What did you want to ask me?”

A simple question. A direct invitation. And yet, Wednesday felt her mind stall for the first time in… longer than she cared to admit. She folded her hands in her lap, composing herself. “The Raven is approaching.”

You gave no reaction.

She tried again. “Nevermore’s annual formal gathering—”

“I know what the Raven is,” you interrupted, voice as impassive as ever. “Get to the point.”

Wednesday’s fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her skirt. “Enid is attempting to coerce me into attending.”

“Sounds like Enid. So what about it?”

She had rehearsed this. Thought through every possible phrasing, every logical approach. But as she sat here, faced with the actual moment, the words tangled themselves in knots before they could leave her tongue.

“I—” She stopped. Tensed. Then began again, voice flat. “It is a proposition of—” No. That sounded transactional.

A breath. A pause. A recalibration.

Why was this difficult? It was a simple inquiry. A proposition dictated by logic. She was merely extending an invitation. Nothing more.

She straightened her posture, collecting herself.

“I was considering—” No. Wrong. Start over.

Your silence was unbearable.

She exhaled sharply, jaw tightening.

“I am asking if you would go to the Raven with me.”

You did not react at first. Not visibly. You merely blinked once, slowly, before tilting your head, considering her in the way one might examine a riddle with an answer just out of reach.

Then, finally, your voice, calm and even. “I know you aren’t the socially gathering type. And neither am I. So why do you want to go there with me?”

Her first instinct was to craft a logical excuse. Something about observation. Something about data collection. But as she opened her mouth, the words felt thin, transparent, unworthy of the truth that pressed heavy against her ribs.

She exhaled quietly, accepting the inevitability of what came next.

“I want to know you.”

Your gaze flickered. Just barely.

“Know me?”

“…Know you.”

It felt like vulnerability.

Wednesday did not like the feeling of exposing herself like this. She was not used to it. But she could not bring herself to regret saying it.

You considered her words for a long moment.

Then, finally, you spoke. “Curiosity kills the cat, Wednesday.”

She felt it again. The way her name sounded from your lips. Not the way others said it—casual, indifferent, obligatory. No, there was weight to it. Something deliberate. And it affected her more than she cared to admit.

But she refused to let you see that.

"I am not afraid," Wednesday stated. "Are you?"

This time, you did smirk. Slight, but undeniable.

Wednesday felt a sharp, bracing satisfaction curl inside her, something darkly electric. You rarely gave people anything. But she had pulled it from you.

Again.

“I am not wearing any sparkling dress,” you said.

“I do not expect you to,” Wednesday responded immediately.

Your expression remained neutral, but something behind your gaze gleamed with consideration. It was impossible to tell what you were thinking.

Wednesday was patient. Mostly.

“So?” she asked, “What is your answer?”

You considered her, then exhaled slowly. “I'll go.”

She had won.

The Raven had already begun, the rest of the school had already begun making their way inside, laughter and muffled music spilling from the doors yet she remained where she was, waiting.

Waiting for you.

You had told her you would meet her right outside. You had given her your word. And yet, here she was—alone.

She wasn’t worried, of course. That would be absurd. But her fingers twitched at her sides, betraying the lingering frustration creeping in. It wasn’t like she had been standing here long. If anything, she had arrived early. Perhaps too early. But the idea of making you wait for her had been unacceptable.

And so, she had come before the arranged time, preparing herself for whatever was to come.

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her dress. A new dress. Something Enid had forced her into acquiring, insisting that her usual attire was “criminally outdated” and that “if you’re going to court someone, you need to at least look like you put in effort.” Wednesday had wanted to strangle her.

Courtship. The mere thought of the word made her want to scoff. It was absurd. Yet, here she was, standing outside a school dance, waiting for someone. Waiting for you.

She had spent the week preparing—not that she needed to. She had already analyzed every potential outcome, calculated every possible scenario in which she might extract more information from you. She had thought about your answers, your reactions, your frustratingly unreadable expressions. And, though she hated to admit it, she had found herself wondering… how you would look tonight.

And now, as if summoned by the mere thought, she felt something.

Not the usual sense of awareness, not the subtle shift in the air or the telltale footsteps that always gave people away. No, this was… nothing.

Like an absence of presence.

A void in reality itself.

A shiver ran down her spine, and for the first time in a long time, she hesitated before turning.

You were standing there. Right behind her.

Her senses were honed, trained to detect the faintest disturbance in the air, the softest shift in movement. No one could sneak up on her. It was impossible. She hadn’t felt a thing.

She turned fully to face you, her breath steady, though her mind was not.

You were dressed in black.

A suit.

Not a dress. Not the standard gown the other girls had conformed to. A full, tailored suit—black from the crisp collar down to the polished shoes. The fit was precise, sharp lines and dark fabric making you look like you had stepped out of a world untouched by color. It suited you in a way that felt inevitable—as if anything else would have been unnatural.

Wednesday stared.

You looked—

No. She would not finish that thought.

Wednesday inhaled carefully, composing herself.

"You’re late," she said.

You merely blinked. "You’re early."

Wednesday scowled slightly. She should have expected that response. "I was beginning to wonder if you had changed your mind."

"I always keep my word."

With a quick inhale, she tilted her chin slightly, sharpening her gaze. “You do realize there was a dress code.”

You blinked at her, unbothered. “And?”

Wednesday had to fight the inexplicable urge to smirk.

“Most people would have at least tried to blend in.”

"Most people aren’t me."

That was an understatement.

Wednesday’s eyes flickered over you again, and for a moment, she swore she felt her own pulse betray her.

No.

She would not entertain these thoughts.

You exhaled softly, pulling her out of her reverie. “Are we going in, or do you just plan to keep staring at me?”

Wednesday’s spine stiffened instantly. “I wasn’t—”

You arched a brow, waiting.

She exhaled sharply. “Let’s go.”

You nodded, falling into step beside her as she moved toward the entrance.

Eyes.

It was just like last year. The moment she had entered, the weight of a hundred stares had settled onto her like a cloak. She had never cared about the scrutiny before—let them look, let them judge, let them fear. It had never mattered.

But tonight, something was different.

Tonight, the eyes weren’t only on her.

They were on you too.

The entire room seemed to shift the moment you stepped inside, as if the very presence of you disrupted the delicate balance of the event. Students who had been chatting freely just moments ago fell silent, their laughter fading into hushed whispers.

Some turned their heads quickly, pretending not to look, but their shoulders remained tense, their postures rigid. Others weren’t as subtle, their eyes wide, cautious, as if being caught staring too long might summon something unspeakable. And as if one accidental touch with you might be enough to disintegrate them.

No one had ever looked at her like that. People feared Wednesday for what she might do. But with you… Wednesday was sure they themselves didn't even know why they feared you.

Cowards.

She wondered if you noticed. If you cared.

Glancing to her side, she found you as unreadable as ever. Walking beside her with the same detached, effortless indifference, as if the entire world could set itself on fire and you wouldn’t so much as blink.

Had she ever touched you?

Not once.

Not while fencing, not during your so-called “training sessions” after sunfall. Even in proximity, you had always been… distant. And now, standing beside you, Wednesday found her gaze flickering downward—toward your hands.

You were wearing gloves. Dark, sleek, as always.

A part of her wondered if it was intentional. A precaution. A shield.

She had sometimes seen you without them, but not too much.

A fact that normally wouldn’t have mattered, but now settled in her mind like an itch she couldn’t quite reach.

She wondered what that might do. Would she see something? Feel something? Would it be cold? Warm? Would it give her a vision?

Would you let her?

"OH. MY. GOSH! There you are! Finally!”

Wednesday barely had time to react before she was ambushed by an overly pink werewolf.

Enid beamed up at her, practically vibrating where she stood. “You actually came! And—” She turned sharply, eyes locking onto you like a predator spotting new prey. “You actually came!”

You stared at her blankly. “Was I not supposed to?”

“No, no, you were, I just—wow.” Enid took a step back, arms crossing as she gave you an exaggerated once-over. “Okay, seriously? You really committed to the whole ‘color is evil’ thing, huh?"

You blinked at her, expression unchanging. “It’s a funeral theme.”

Enid hesitated, confused. “Wait, whose funeral?”

You tilted your head slightly. “Possibly yours if you keep talking.”

If Wednesday had ever doubted that someone could be even more socially intolerable than herself, you had long since proved her wrong.

Enid, being Enid, merely huffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Ha, ha, very funny. You and Wednesday are totally made for each other.”

Wednesday felt something at that but promptly crushed it into nonexistence.

���Seriously, though, you guys look cool tho. It’s like… Dark Princess and Mysterious Assassin Chic.”

You raised a brow. “That sounds ridiculous.”

Enid shrugged. “Yeah, well, I was gonna say ‘Goth Girlfriend and her Shadow’ but I figured Wednesday might actually kill me for that one.”

Wednesday’s glare was instantaneous. “Keep talking, and I just might.”

“Oh, hush.” Enid grinned. Then, in a move as seamless as if it were a natural part of the conversation, she threw in, “At least it’s better than last year, when you came with Tyler.”

Wednesday stiffened, but it was your voice that broke through first.

“Tyler?”

It was the first time you had asked anything about her past. Your tone remained the same—flat, impassive—but Wednesday noticed. The way your eyes narrowed ever so slightly. The way you processed the name, as if filing it away for later analysis.

“Oh, right,” Enid chirped. “I forgot, you weren’t here back then.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Tyler Galpin. The Hyde who was responsible for all the murders and Crackstone last year.”

You were silent for a moment, then, “Interesting choice.”

Flat. Emotionless. But Wednesday could feel the weight behind the words, the quiet judgment hidden beneath the surface.

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know he was the Hyde back then.”

Enid grinned. “Yeah, yeah. To be fair, it was a shocker. But I beat him, you know!” She puffed out her chest, absolutely radiating self-satisfaction. “Wolfed out for the first time and tore that guy apart!”

You tilted your head. “Really? You? With what? All your sunshine and rainbows?”

Enid gasped. “HEY.”

Wednesday almost—almost—smirked.

“No,” Enid huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “I beat him with friendship and LOVE!”

Wednesday caught it. Something flickering behind your eyes. It was gone in an instant, but she saw it. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t obvious. But Wednesday noticed.

She always noticed.

You repeated Enid’s words, but softer, almost… distant. “Friendship and love?”

“Duh!” Enid beamed. “What else are we supposed to fight for?”

Your reaction was brief—so brief that Enid didn’t even register it—but Wednesday did. The smallest flicker of something worn, something almost bitter.

And then, just like that, it was gone.

Your mask slipped perfectly back into place, and you gave a simple nod, offering nothing else.

But Wednesday had seen it. And wondered, what exactly had you lost?

Wednesday barely had a moment to register the scene before Enid latched onto her wrist and yanked her away from your side.

"Alright, spill it!" Enid practically vibrated with excitement as she dragged Wednesday toward a less-crowded corner of the room. "What’s the plan?"

"There is no plan," Wednesday deadpanned, prying her wrist free from the werewolf’s overly enthusiastic grip.

Enid gave her a knowing look. "But Plan Six is about—"

"I don’t care," Wednesday interrupted, voice sharp as a blade.

Enid narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “So you’re just gonna—what? Wing it?” She looked genuinely disturbed by the thought. “That’s so not like you, Wens.”

Wednesday’s patience was running thin. “I fail to see why my actions, or lack thereof, are of any concern to you.”

“Because you’re you, and she’s her, and you two are just—” Enid waved her hands wildly, as if trying to pluck the correct words out of thin air. “You know! And I know you’re, like, emotionally stunted or whatever, but don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it!”

Wednesday arched a brow. “Thought about what exactly?”

Enid let out a strangled noise, clearly resisting the urge to shake her. “You like her, Wednesday! And no, I don’t mean in your usual ‘I tolerate their existence more than most’ way. I mean actually like her.”

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. "Don’t be absurd."

Enid’s grin only widened. "Oh, please. You so do. And if you don’t do something about it soon, someone else will—"

"Let them try," Wednesday said flatly.

“Oh my god. You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Enid clutched her chest dramatically.

Wednesday didn't answer.

"Wait, you really don't!" Enid gasped again and before she could revel in her discovery any further, the unmistakable sound of upbeat music shifting into something slower caught her attention, and she immediately perked up. “Ooh! This is my song! Okay, okay, I’ll leave you to your brooding or whatever, but just think about what I said, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and practically skipped off into the crowd, leaving Wednesday standing there, irritation simmering beneath her skin.

With a sigh, she turned back toward where she had last seen you, only for her gaze to freeze.

Bianca.

Interesting.

The siren stood before you, her arms crossed, her expression neutral yet unreadable. The two of you weren’t bickering.

Bianca had never liked you. That much had been clear from the very beginning.

And yet, here she was, standing in front of you, speaking in low tones that Wednesday couldn’t quite make out from this distance.

She had always assumed the hostility was mutual, a silent agreement between two people who simply had no desire to tolerate each other’s existence.

So why now?

Why this?

She had spent enough time around Bianca to recognize her mannerisms—the way she spoke when she was attempting diplomacy, the way she shifted when she was preparing to manipulate a situation.

This wasn’t that.

And she didn’t like it.

She was still debating whether she should intervene when an annoyingly familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

“So… you and Y/N, huh?”

Wednesday didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. Instead, she merely narrowed her eyes and leveled Xavier with a glare. "Leave."

Xavier, of course, completely ignored her warning.

"You know, I should’ve seen this coming," he mused, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward where you stood. "But, what can I say? It’s my bad for always falling for the odd, dark, unattainable ones."

Wednesday’s fingers twitched toward the knife strapped beneath her dress.

Xavier, either suicidal or just entirely too used to her homicidal tendencies, only smirked. "I guess she’s all yours then."

Wednesday had already reached for the knife when Xavier bolted.

Coward.

Her irritation barely had time to settle before her attention was drawn back to you—back to Bianca, who was still standing in front of you, speaking in low tones.

Wednesday moved closer.

“—guess we got off on the wrong foot," Bianca was saying. "Are we good now?”

You held her gaze for a moment before nodding.

"Since when did you two become acquaintances."

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, sharp and cutting as a blade, her presence slicing into whatever conversation had been occurring.

Both you and Bianca turned toward her at the same time.

There was no flicker of surprise in your expression as if you sensed her coming.

"We haven't."

She wasn’t sure which part of this conversation annoyed her the most—the fact that you had been standing here with Bianca in the first place, the fact that she had no idea what you had been talking about, or the fact that you seemed entirely unmoved by the situation while she, for some godforsaken reason, was very much not.

Bianca sighed, shifting her weight as she glanced between the two of you. “It’s nothing dramatic, Addams. We were just discussing how we don’t need to be at each other’s throats all the time. It's not like we are best friends now.”

"A riveting discussion, I’m sure," Wednesday said flatly.

Bianca rolled her eyes. "Relax, Addams. I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend."

There was a beat of silence.

Wednesday felt her jaw clench.

You merely blinked. "I didn’t know I was something to steal." Wait why didn't you deny the.. "girlfriend" part?

Bianca smirked. "Exactly my point."

Wednesday’s grip tightened at her sides. "If you’re done wasting both our time, I suggest you leave before I decide I’m in the mood for violence."

"Fine. I’ll let you two get back to your whatever this is." She sent you one last glance. "Just don’t make me regret this, Y/N."

"I probably would." you said flatly.

Bianca groaned before finally turning and walking off, disappearing into the crowd.

Wednesday exhaled slowly, turning to you fully now. You were watching her, gaze steady, unreadable as always.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, a new song started playing.

And still, you stood there, watching her.

And Wednesday too found herself uncertain of what to say.

You weren’t supposed to dance.

Yet there you were, standing alone in the eye of the storm, unmoving at first—unblinking, your gaze tethered to hers

You say you're not afraid to die. But take off the armor 'round your chest What's left inside?

It starts slow. A shift of your shoulders, the roll of your neck. Controlled. Calculated. The crowd doesn’t notice at first. But Wednesday does. The way your foot drags against the floor, deliberate, the way your spine curves—not yielding, but commanding.

Li-li-lion licking your blade Do you really bleed if it washes away?

The music grows teeth. The beat snaps, and you move with it.

Your arm jerks upward, before your body twists. Not fluid, not elegant

Take a ride, rough as you can Tell you a secret, right as your dogs are closing in

You were doing it to be visceral.

I like it when the bite marks cut through the skin

Your chest rises and falls with the rhythm, your fingers twitching, slicing through empty space. The lyrics carve into the air, and you let them shape you.

I like it when the bite marks cut through the skin.

Your head jerks to the side in sync with the words, as if something unseen has struck you. Then, a collapse—your body folds inward, a marionette with cut strings, only to snap back upright in the next breath.

A shadow unbroken.

Tell me the walls are closing in Into the fire and born again

Wednesday’s pulse hammered against her skull. She had never been one for frivolity, for mindless displays of social pleasantries. And yet, Her legs moved before she could rationalize it.

She stepped into the eye of the storm.

Taste the pain and drink it in I like it when the bite marks cut through the skin

The first onlookers take notice. A few heads turn. Murmurs.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the world condensed to the space between the two of you. You tilted your head, watching her approach, your lips barely parting as if in amusement.

A challenge.

Lou-louder the bark and the bigger the blade One seat on a throne, one foot in the grave

Wednesday’s body responded before her mind did. Her movements were sharp, calculated. The macabre fluidity of her limbs fell into step with yours, a duet that somehow, made perfect sense.

Lou-louder the moth then the bigger the flame Do you really bleed if it washes away?

Wednesday is struck with something she does not understand. You lifted your arms, crossing them over your chest in a sharp X before suddenly letting yourself drop.

For a second, Wednesday expected you to hit the ground.

But you were gone, as if the ground itself had opened to devour you.

Her breath hitched. She hadn’t seen where you had gone. It wasn’t possible.

Wednesday turned slowly, and there you were.

Wednesday felt something strange claw at her ribcage. It was not fear, nor disgust—she knew those feelings well. This was something else. Something far more dangerous.

Intrigue.

Fascination.

Desire.

You turned again, your body rolling, shifting—your hands dragging down your face as if peeling away a mask. Then you tilted your head, eyes locking onto hers once more.

I like it when the bite marks cut through the skin.

Your bodies circled, inches apart but never touching, two predators weaving between the spaces left by the other. When your head snapped to the side, Wednesday followed suit. When you twisted, she mirrored, but it was not mimicry. It was a battle. A silent war waged between motion and breath, between two creatures who did not yield.

Tell me the walls are closing in Into the fire and born again

Wednesday is struck with something she does not understand.

She knows of death. She has danced with it since childhood. But this? This is something else. This is not a dance. This is a ritual. A possession. And she is the one ensnared.

Taste the pain and drink it in.

She stepped forward.

You stepped back.

No—she would not allow it.

PLAN SIX: KISS!

Wednesday lunged, a sudden, sharp movement that brought her directly in front of you. For a moment, the two of you were impossibly close, the air thick with something electric, something raw.

She could feel your breathing, you could feel hers.

I like it when the bite marks 

Your lips were too close... almost... almost brushing...

I like it when the bite marks cut through the skin.

You were gone.

Vanished into the crowd.

Wednesday stood in the wreckage of what remained. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her fingers twitched at her sides. Wednesday remained standing in the same spot long after the music had faded, her breath just slightly uneven, her pulse just slightly too fast.

She despised you. She wanted more.

No word, no parting glance. Just—gone.

She should not care.

But her feet were already moving.

She scanned the crowd. The sharpness in her stare sent some students skittering out of the way, but she ignored them. Her focus was singular. Methodical. If you were going to disappear on her, then she would simply find you herself.

The first stop was Enid because Enid had an unfortunate tendency to be in everyone’s business. If anyone had seen where you had gone, it would be her.

The werewolf was perched by the refreshment table, downing an energy drink with alarming speed.

Wednesday wasted no time.

“Where is she?” she demanded.

Enid choked mid-sip, coughing as she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “Huh?”

“You heard me,” Wednesday snapped. “Where is Y/N?”

“I don’t know, she kinda just vanished? I was watching the whole time, and it was like one second she was there and then poof! Super ninja mode activated. It was actually kinda scary.”

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Well,” Enid continued, her grin shifting into something more knowing, “you could always ask around. But considering how you two were dancing, I’m pretty sure she’s off somewhere sharpening a knife and brooding about you.”

Wednesday did not dignify that with a response.

The next stop was Eugene. She found him near the entrance, “Eugene.”

He flinched. “Oh, uh, hey Wednesday.”

“Where did Y/n go?”

Eugene looked at her like she had just asked him to walk into a hornet’s nest. “Uh… do I have to answer?”

Wednesday’s gaze sharpened.

“I-I mean, I don’t know! I saw her leave after the dance but—uh—I didn’t follow! She’s… kind of terrifying?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not in a bad way! I mean, okay, kind of in a bad way. But not, like, the murder-y bad way. Well, maybe the murder-y bad way. Are you sure you even want to find her?”

“Yes.”

Eugene swallowed.

Bianca was next, and Wednesday already anticipated the headache that would come with it. She found her near the courtyard, casually leaning against a stone pillar, talking to Xavier.

"Shit, you have that face on. The ‘I’m about to interrogate someone’ face. Am I gonna get arrested again? ” Xavier said as soon as he saw Wednesday.

"Where did Y/N go?" Wednesday asked completely ignoring Xavier.

Bianca arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Wow. No hello? No please?"

Wednesday's patience, thin at the best of times, was rapidly eroding. "I do not have time for pleasantries."

Bianca smirked. "Shocker."

Wednesday simply stared, unblinking.

With a dramatic sigh, Bianca relented. "Last I saw, she was heading outside. Maybe she needed air. Not that I blame her—this place reeks of teenage desperation."

It was the most useful information she'd received yet. Without another word, Wednesday turned.

"You're welcome," Bianca called after her.

She ignored it.

She had followed Bianca’s lead, stepping outside the hall without fully understanding why she was still searching for you.

Why was she looking for you?

The question clawed at her, demanding an answer she wasn’t prepared to give. Normally, when she pried into someone’s secrets, it was with the cold precision of a scalpel, detached, methodical, unyielding. People were puzzles to be solved, mysteries to be unraveled, nothing more. She had never once cared about their comfort, their feelings, or whether she had the right to pry. The idea of restraint was laughable.

But there was something different about this.

About you.

And then there was that moment—that nearly catastrophic, almost unforgivable moment—where the space between you had shrunk to nothing. Where she had nearly—

Her fingers twitched at her sides. She would not dwell on that.

Her gaze swept over the landscape, the silver-blue light of the moon illuminating every detail, but what caught her attention was the lack of light, a void, a shadow.

It slipped just at the edges of her vision, moving toward the forest. Almost imperceptible, but Wednesday had been watching.

You.

She recognized the way you moved—too fluid, too controlled, like a predator that knew exactly when to make itself known and when to disappear. Even now, you were almost gone. If she had blinked, she would have missed it.

Wednesday inhaled sharply and moved.

Her instincts screamed at her to be careful. She had seen firsthand what happened when someone tried to sneak up on you. Xavier almost learned it the hard way.

You were fast, impossibly so, and lethal when you needed to be.

Which meant that Wednesday had to be better.

She moved with practiced precision, keeping her distance.

Your black attire blended effortlessly into the darkness. More than once, she had to pause, reassess, find you again among the trees.

And Wednesday?

She was following a monster into the abyss. The thought should have unsettled her.

It didn’t. It never did.

Instead, her chest tightened with something else. Something she refused to name.

She moved faster.

Deeper into the forest.

Then—

You stopped.

Wednesday halted instantly, slipping behind the cover of a wide oak, sharp eyes watching as you stepped into a clearing.

At the center of it lay something wrong. Some sort of summoning circle. Its symbols twisted into unnatural shapes, burned into the ground with something that shimmered like embers.

You stood at the center, utterly unbothered.

For the first time since she had met you, Wednesday felt something close to unease.

The glow of the circle intensified, the embers shifting, moving, as if alive. It painted you in crimson light, casting harsh shadows over your face, making you look like something out of a nightmare. Or perhaps, something meant to hunt nightmares.

She had known that you were dangerous. That you were more than just another student at Nevermore. That you were something other.

But this?

This was confirmation.

This was proof.

Wednesday’s heartbeat remained steady.

She should have left.

She should have walked away, returned to the safety of the school, and let you do whatever it was you did when you vanished into the night.

But she didn’t.

Because she couldn’t.

She had spent so much of her life uncovering the grotesque, the horrifying, the things that lurked in the dark. And yet, for the first time, she found herself hesitating, not out of fear, not out of uncertainty, but because something else was clawing at the edges of her mind.

A hesitation she did not understand.

The circle ignited.

A rift tore through reality itself, opening into something that should not exist, a swirling abyss of pure darkness, something alive and moving, something that watched.

And you—

You were swallowed by it.

Wednesday’s breath hitched, but her body moved before her mind could catch up.

She leapt.

Into the dark.

The ground was cold beneath her.

Damp earth pressed against her palms, the scent of moss and decay thick in the air. Wednesday inhaled slowly, her lungs adjusting to the weight of it.

Her eyes opened to absolute darkness.

For a moment, she remained still, allowing her senses to recalibrate, to process. She was lying on her side, her body stiff from the impact of the fall—if it had even been a fall. Had she fallen? Or had she simply ceased to exist for a moment before reappearing here?

She had woken in a jungle. It felt different...

The thought sent irritation curling through her chest. She had never liked being disoriented. Uncertainty was an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation. She pushed herself up, wincing as her limbs protested, but forced herself steady. The air was thick with humidity, the scent of unfamiliar flora curling at the edges of her senses.

This wasn’t Nevermore.

This wasn’t anywhere near Nevermore.

Where are you?

Wednesday stood, brushing the dirt from her skirt. The realization settled in her chest like a slow-moving storm—she had no idea where she was.

She turned, eyes scanning the darkness, but it was too deep, too complete. The moon was absent here. No soft glow to guide her, no stars above, she couldn't even see your footsteps.

She couldn’t even be sure how long she had been unconscious.

That should have unsettled her. It didn’t. It never did. Panic was for the weak.

She would find you. She moved carefully, her fingers brushing against the rough bark of trees as she navigated blindly. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Time felt different here. Stretched, distorted.

And then—

A glimmer.

Faint. Just at the edges of the horizon, cutting through the trees.

Light.

Wednesday’s pace quickened, her steps deliberate but silent as she pushed through the thick foliage. The jungle began to thin, the oppressive darkness easing as she approached a clearing.

And there it was.

A house.

Not a decrepit ruin, not some abandoned structure swallowed by time, but a home.

Warm light spilled from the windows, illuminating a well-kept courtyard. The architecture was sturdy, lived-in, its exterior worn with time but undeniably occupied. The furniture on the porch, the faint glow of a lantern swaying in the breeze—it all spoke of something human.

And then—

You.

Standing just outside the house.

Wednesday froze, pressing herself against the nearest tree, her breath slowing.

What was this place?

What were you doing here?

Before she could begin to piece it together, the door creaked open.

A man stepped out.

Tall, bearded, his eyes sharp as they settled on you. Behind him, a woman lingered in the doorway, a small girl at her side.

A family.

Wednesday’s breath slowed, her fingers curling against the bark of the tree she had hidden behind.

She watched.

She waited.

And she listened.

"You are her, aren’t you?"

The man’s voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—a weight, an understanding. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anger. It was acceptance. Like a man who had spent years looking over his shoulder, only to finally turn around and see the shadow looming over him.

You did not answer.

He sighed, exhaling as if he had already made peace with what was to come. "I thought you would be older…"

The moment the words left his lips, Wednesday watched as you lifted your hand, your katana materialized in your grip. Wednesday felt her breath still in her chest.

It was happening again. That pull. That same, dark magnetism that had drawn her to you in the first place, something deeper than fascination—a warning.

"Tell your daughter to go inside," you said, your voice calm, cutting, spoken with the certainty of someone who had already seen the end of this story. "You don’t want her to see this, Kalzorran."

The man flinched. Visibly. As if the name itself had sharp edges, slicing through the years he had tried to bury it beneath.

"I left that name," he muttered, his jaw tightening. "That life. Long ago."

"Yet, you live free of consequences."

"There is no life free of consequences from him!" Kalzorran snapped, his voice suddenly raw, desperate, heavy with something dangerously close to fear. "I escaped. I earned it. We all did."

"You have lived free enough," you said. "Lived good enough. But it's time you returned to him. Keep your part of the deal."

Wednesday observed everything—the shift in his stance, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands hovered near his sides like a man prepared to either fight or plead.

“Papa?”

The girl.

Wednesday saw something shift in his face.

"Get her inside, Laura," he ordered, his voice firm but not unkind.

His wife hesitated, sadness pulling at her features. She understood. She knew what was about to happen.

But she obeyed.

Kalzorran exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face before letting out a bitter chuckle.

"You," he muttered. "You are his greatest hunter, aren’t you? Death's very emissary."

Wednesday felt her heart slow. She saw the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides, the way his throat bobbed as if he was trying to swallow something heavy.

"You alone, all by yourself… hunted so many of us," Kalzorran continued, his voice quieter now. "Killed our greatest defenders. No other hunter has done that. Ever." He let out another hollow laugh, shaking his head. "You made us all go back into hiding, living like animals again."

You said nothing.

You only stood there, katana in hand, the blade reflecting the dim light.

Kalzorran’s voice turned sharper. "So you have potential. More than any of us. More than me. And you sold your soul for it, just like we did." His gaze locked onto you, something desperate, something searching flickering behind his eyes. "For what? Power? Wealth?"

"Revenge." Your answer was immediate.

Wednesday felt her breath catch.

The word landed with the weight of a tombstone.

Kalzorran’s lips parted slightly, his expression unreadable. He let out a slow, exhausted exhale before shaking his head.

"And was it worth it?" he asked. His voice was softer now, almost... mournful. "Tell me, oh great huntress... how much of his soul, his torment did he give you for yours? Maybe a handful from his billions?"

There was no hesitation.

"Half."

Kalzorran went completely still.

For a moment, there was no sound but the distant hum of the jungle, the whisper of leaves rustling in the wind.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"...What?"

"Half." You repeated.

Wednesday watched as the color drained from the man’s face. His bravado wavered, his stance stiffened—not in preparation for a fight, but in something closer to dread.

Kalzorran staggered a step back, his breath coming out uneven. "That's not possible…" He swallowed, his expression flickering between disbelief and something far worse—recognition.

"No…" He shook his head. "No, that would mean… you…" His eyes widened. His lips parted, struggling to shape the words he didn’t want to say.

"The prophecy…" he whispered. "You… you are…"

His eyes widened and Wednesday saw fear. Not the fear of death. Not the fear of you. But the fear of what you were.

"Lucifer's chosen one…"

She only stared. It didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense. The pieces didn’t fit—except they did.

The shadows. The power. The way you moved, the way you hunted, the way people feared you in ways they couldn’t explain.

Lucifer.

The Devil.

You were—

"I am the Maiden of Death."

[End note: Yeah, things are gonna get real from here lol. Enid wasn't kidding when she said "She’s not just like Wednesday. She’s way scarier" Comment who would win a fight Her Heartbeat's Y/n or Tmod's Y/n 😂 pookie y/n vs spooky y/n.]

taglist: @rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons @kingofthings2 @masterofpuppets-10 @alexkolax @ognenniyvolk @mally-ka @protozoario @machyishere @freakshow2501 @101rizzlrr @casbrawel @jinxslapdog @just-zy @gray-cheese @hellenheaven @cheerlanader @pikachooo3 @jennaswifey @thyhooligans @caffeine-pup @gayerthanmylittleponys @sabrinasgirlfren @neoeleoo @deflatedducky

[uravitypng]

you're standing behind your podium waiting for the first man to go down the lift. you never thought you would go on a tv show like this but at the same time you never thought you would have your heart broken in such a humiliating way in front of all your coworkers so now you're dressed up in your best clothes, wearing your prettiest dress and nicest makeup wondering who's going to come down the lift.

you choose this show because your ex brought it up whenever you flicked through the channels, talking about how shallow it is and it's only based on appearance, he's not really wrong at the end of the day but that's not important to you currently and you wanted so bad to be on that programme and show off, 'look at how hot i am! you made such a mistake to dump me!'

your ex made you feel insecure about so many things- your body, your intelligence, your hobbies, your talents- but you decided that that's not going to hold you back for ever. you know you're good, you know those things he used to tell you to put you down aren't true.

every girls light is shining waiting for whoever comes into sight. if you don't like what you see you press your button to turn your light off and you know that you'll have no issues pressing that button if someone 'gives you the ick' or overall is just not your type.

the presenter gets your attention, "remember no likey, no lighty!" as the lift comes down, a lil nas song that you always forget the name to accompanies him as he makes his entrance. you're definitely not pressing your button. a man comes into view, a very attractive man comes into view, dyed blonde hair with an undercut, hooded dark brown eyes and an alluring smirk.

he introduces himself as atsumu and you swear you saw his eyes linger on you, checking you out, as he scans everyone.

"so ladies are you turned on or turned off?" two lights turn off and the presenter goes to question them about why they turned their light off, 'his hair... is a bit... well... let's just say i would complain to my hairdresser' and 'i like guys who are a little shorter, i like being the same height as each other.'

a video shows up behind him and a guy that looks exactly like him with different hair starts talking, for a video that's meant to highlight how great his twin is it's not the most complimentary but you can tell how much he cares about him only after one clip.

you learn that atsumu is a perfectionist and is a very competitive person, through this you learn he's a volleyball player and has been playing since he was a child, while his twin says this, footage of him comes onto the screen of him in practise and you don't know anything about volleyball really but he certainly looks good playing it, his body's moving in a way that makes it hard to take your eyes off him, you can see sweat dripping down his forehead and it makes him look even hotter. you find out he's a confident person but that really doesn't surprise you, he's on take me out, he came down the lift in such a confident manner and he's a pro athlete, his twin almost makes him sound like he's cocky and you gather that he's even more cocky than hinted at.

"'tsumu can be a flirt," at least six lights turn off, "and he gives a lot of compliments, especially t' girls on nights out but they're not always the most sincere, he can play with them." you see atsumu scowl and you can tell that he hadn't seen this video beforehand, it makes you giggle. "my twin is an idiot and he can be selfish but if y' give him the chance it'll be worth it."

almost half of girls have their lights off by now and it's not hard to figure out why, honestly you're surprised there isn't more after essentially being told he's a playboy but you're guessing he's so attractive they still wanted to keep their light on. his brother seems brutally honest when speaking about him but that makes you even more sure about the fact that you absolutely do not want to press that button. they obviously have a good relationship and that's such a green flag to you, not only that but his 'negative' traits don't leave you with a bad taste in your mouth or anything. everyone consists of both good and bad. you wouldn't mind that he's not the most sincere as long as he's sincere to you and honest about how he feels.

you don't know if you're atsumu's type you guess you'll found out soon but if you do get picked it's not like he's going to propose to you or anything. you're not looking for 'the one', especially on a reality romance game show but you know you'd enjoy his company.

just like last time the host goes around and asks some of the girls why they turned their lights off or have kept them on, you take little notice instead choosing to admire atsumu, maybe if the roles were reversed that would be considered something people would press their button about if they knew you wasn't listening and instead ignoring them to focus on the hot guy in front of everyone.

the host is talking to a girl a couple podiums down but atsumu looks at you- not her. he smirks as he notices your eyes are already on him after a couple seconds he flicks his eyes away to make eye contact with the presenter.

more things are said but you don't take notice. now's the part that feels pretty daunting though, you knew it would but it doesn't make that feeling go away. atsumu now has to press everyone's button, eliminating everyone apart from two. some women have their hands over their buttons silently begging jokingly not to press their button and eliminate them. atsumu presses buttons, sometimes pretending to turn off a light before walking the other way to turn off a different light and then after two more lights going back to that original light, crushing hope from the women, you understand what his brother means about atsumu playing with girls as you watch and think, 'bastard' but there's no spite behind it, if someone had read your mind they'd question about how it almost sounded endearing.

you don't realise that your light is still on, preoccupied with fantasising about his smirk that wouldn't leave his face as he made you moan. you're in the final two. he never even pretended to go to turn your light off.

the other girl makes a flirty chat up line and you know it's your turn next, you had it prepared on the off chance. you really didn't think you'd ever make it down to the final two. forty girls narrowed down to you, you didn't think it was likely but you still had some lines memorised. you said something and he laughed. he actually laughs. you don't know if it's because what you said amused him or if it's because he can tell you're not use to this kind of thing but either way- he laughed.

"now atsumu it's time to choose one of these girls. before you pick you should know that one of these girls once tried to use hair straighteners on a crinkled up essay as a teenager to try and make it flat again." he laughed. again.

"well i don't know who did that but it's a great idea," he grins and butterflies flutter in your stomach, 'it really was... in theory...' his eyes move to you again and you still can't tell if it's a bias perspective you hold but you swear that he's looking at you longer, looking at you more, looking at your soft body, looking at you with a kinder look in his eye. "both of these girls are gorgeous but one outshines everyone in th' room," he says your name and your eyes become comically wide.

'a man this hot thinks i'm gorgeous? so does that mean i was right that this whole time he was checking me out? i get to go on an all expenses paid date with atsumu?!'

reality shows au masterlist <3

[voxslays]

DAE-HO AS YOUR BF

BEFORE THE GAMES

First of all, this man is one of the sweetest in the entire damn series. He is the type to constantly be getting you flowers and your favorite types of sweets (whether that be chocolates, lollipops, baked goods, etc).

Always there to hype you up, no matter the situation. Even if you’re in the wrong. Dae-ho will never play the devil’s advocate, although he will make you think about your actions in a kind, stress and judgement free way.

Despite all your shared debt, Dae-ho still adores spoiling you in little ways. Picking little flowers from nearby meadows in Seoul’s natural parks. Buying you little trinkets that remind him of you; like bracelets and mini music boxes.

Will never let you walk home alone at night. This man doesn’t care how far away you are. Twenty miles? Fifty? He’ll get there just to make sure nobody touches or tries anything on your way home. He may be a little paranoid from his time in the marines.

When walking together, he’ll always have his large, calloused and veiny hand on the small of your back. It gives both him and you a sense of belonging and comfort—so much so, that it’s become a habit by now.

I imagine Dae-ho is a great listener who will sit for hours listening to your rants (and problems). But when it comes to him? He tries to hide it from you. Why? Because he’s scared you’ll find him weak and pathetic.

I imagine over the years he lived with his dad, his mental state was really hit hard. He still has trouble being open and vulnerable with you, but he tries his best. And he’s really glad to have someone as caring as you on his side.

DURING THE GAMES

Absolutely shocked and horrified when he sees you wearing the same green tracksuit as him—even more so when he hears why you joined. Because you wanted the you and him to have a better future together.

He always insists on giving you at least half of his food portions. He says it’s because you need the strength more than he does, even though it’s not true. In the end, all he wants is for you to survive, and is willing to do anything to ensure it.

Keeps you close during all of the games, but especially mingle. Heaven knows Dae-ho couldn’t live with himself if you died and he lived. He trusts and cares for Gi-hun and the others, but will always pick you first.

Every single time the song goes quiet and the platform stops, he’s nearly dragging you off the platform before the number is even announced, giving both of you a head start to the madness rush caused by the panic.

During the rebellion, all he can think of is you. After all you’ve been through together, how could he just leave you like that? And his negative feelings and thoughts are intensified due to his episode. Yet, tries his best to remain strong for your allies.

When he runs back to get ammo, he is so out of it, he barely even notices you running over to ask him what’s going on. He just watches in awe as you rush into action, grabbing the ammo from the dead guards pockets. All for him.

All he feels is warmth as you help comfort him as he comes down from his PTSD attack. In the end, he vows to get both of you out of there alive, no matter what it takes. By any circumstances. And in the end, that’s just what he does.

AFTER THE GAMES

When you are kicked out onto the separate empty streets you were first picked up on—card in mouth—you were confused. Until someone pulls of your blindfold. Dae-ho. You look up at his messy hair. He looks relieved.

He was now in one of his shirts instead of the green tracksuit you were so used to by now. Yet, even in his disheveled state, he still managed to be as handsome as ever. He quickly helps you to your feet and pulls you into a warm, enveloping hug.

The two of you walk to your nearest bank together, pulling out your cards and putting your player numbers in, unlocking them. Yet, even with all the accumulated wealth you now share, you both only pull out enough to pay off your debts.

You both go to therapy, although you mask the real reason why. How were you supposed to explain to a therapist you were visiting that you were in a series of death games without seeming absolutely crazy?

Dae-ho also becomes a lot more protective and clingy after you leave the island, as if scared to lose you (he is). Which is one of the reasons he proposes to you and buys a house for you to share. Together at last. No danger in sight.

To outsiders, it may seem sudden or too soon—but to you? It couldn’t have been soon enough. You and Dae-ho are ready to leave the games behind you, and this seems like the next logical step. It feels…right.

NSFW

Super good with his mouth and fingers. He has a long tongue and is extremely soft and agile with it. He is fingers are almost freakishly long and thick, perfect for his deep, controlled movements. Plus, he can be such a tease.

If he wanted to, Dae-ho could edge you all night long—simply drinking in your essence. Sucking on your clit, dragging his tongue through your thick folds and gummy walls. Letting his fingers slowly penetrate you as you moan uncontrollably.

Besides being a munch, he also has a huge dick. Around eight inches, to be exact—and thick af. Every time he slides into you, it’s a struggle. You cry out about not being able to take him every single time, and he is as gentle as can be.

He is never rough with you, even as his cock feels like it’s impaling you. Dae-ho always goes as slow as you need, not wanting to push you too far. In conclusion, he knows what he’s doing and is the gentlest giant ever made.

[jjanuaryrain]

More DPxDC, the backstory of how Danny gets to Gotham

A story is slowly coming together in my head but I'm not sure how all the pieces fit yet. Dunno if everything I've posted will go into the same story but I'm just enjoying writing it for now. More under the cut!

Words: 3355

Danny was no stranger to unfortunate circumstances. It could be said that his life was just a series of unfortunate circumstances, actually, each slotted one after the other. This wasn’t much different. Just another piece in the long line of toppling dominoes that was his afterlife.

“Take the reading again,” Tucker demanded in his ear, voice crackly and strained through the Fenton Tech earpiece.

“He’s redone it three times now, Tucker, it’s not going to change just because–” That was Sam’s annoyed drawl from beside him, but she was cut off by Tucker’s insistent voice.

“You have to be doing it wrong. Take it again.”

Danny let his head fall back in frustration where he was hanging weightless in the air over Salem State University, but he didn’t bother arguing. If he didn’t do what Tucker asked, the dude was liable to catch a flight all the way out to Salem to do the damn readings himself. That, or program a drone to do it for him. Both of which were equally undesirable, given what happened the last time Tucker loosed an unidentified aircraft into US airspace. (A half-exploded drone and visit from Homeland Security, that’s what.)

Instead, Danny picked his head back up and dutifully punched the commands into the Foley Ectometer for the 4th time. He waited for the beeps and clicks to stop then checked the reading.

“…It’s still coming through as a 3.6, Tuck. I really don’t think Salem is a viable option.”

“Bullshit, it’s not a viable option!” His friend seethed on the other end of the line. The sounds of furious typing started up again and Danny felt the distinct urge to find a wall to slam his head against. Sam had just gotten him to knock it off. “Salem is the most haunted city in the US outside of Amity based on every metric out there! If that place doesn’t hit a 5, nowhere will.”

Well, wasn’t that just lovely news. Even Salem, Massachusetts didn’t have enough ambient ectoplasm to hit the minimum 5/10 rating, just like the half dozen other cities they’d tested. If Danny wanted to survive longer than a few weeks outside of Amity Park, he’d need to find somewhere that rated at least that. Otherwise, he’d have to spend just as much time in the Realms as he did in the land of the living. Which was not an option at the moment. Not an option at all.

“We could try Gettysburg again,” Danny suggested, once again twirling upside down in the air, but it sounded weak even to his ears. Tucker only replied with a disgusted scoff. He was still clacking away, but Danny knew it was fruitless. Danny had flown to and tested every city in America that Tucker’s ecto-seeking algorithm had come back with. So far, the highest they’d hit was an 8.1 in Pennsylvania… which had actually turned out to be a 1.8 that Danny had read upside down on accident. So Salem was their next best option, but it still fell devastatingly flat.

“Guys, it’s okay, really,” Danny tried. He floated lower toward the green space at the center of Salem’s campus and wound himself invisibly around the branches of a tree. He rested his head on one of the strong boughs and watched as a bird preened its feathers not 2 feet from his face. “I don’t need to go to college outside of Amity. I’m sure an online program will be just as–”

“Oh knock it off, Danny,” Jazz interrupted. She’d been quiet on the call so far, but Danny could occasionally hear her scribbling down notes in the background. Ever since she’d gone off to college, she couldn’t help but treat every situation as a learning experience. And notes were integral to Jazz’s learning. “I don’t care if I have to haunt the city myself – you will be attending a good, four-year college with a strong astronomy program outside of Amity Park. End of discussion.”

Yeah, right. Danny only just stopped himself from laughing in her face. ‘Outside of Amity’ was already a huge ask, but with Danny’s grades and his limited options? Asking for a ‘good four-year college’ and ‘strong astronomy program’ might as well be the same as asking for Superman himself to descend from the heavens and kiss him on the mouth.

Danny knew better than to voice that opinion to Jazz of all people, though. He could only sit through so many lectures on ‘keeping optimistic’ and ‘maintaining a positive view of the future’ before he lost it. So instead, he settled for a non-committal grunt and poked idly at a bit of fungus growing on the trunk of the tree.

“Tucker, what else have you found?” Jazz prompted when Danny didn’t say anything else.

“Well… It’s- I mean, it’s not looking good, guys,” Tuck’s tinny voice said. “We’ve burned through Savannah, St. Augustine, Portland, San Antonio. Hell, we even tried Chicago.”

Danny wrinkled his nose. Staying in Illinois wasn’t ideal, but he’d have taken it if it meant he could get out of Amity Park. That city, despite being his home, his Haunt, was going to be the death of him. And there weren’t enough ‘I’m already dead’ jokes in the world that could soften that.

“Okay,” Jazz hummed thoughtfully, ever the pragmatist. “Then what’s next?”

“That’s just it,” Tucker said with a sigh. “At this point… I don’t think there is a next.”

Well. Great.

Danny thunked his head against the trunk of the tree. When they’d started this search, he’d told himself in no uncertain terms that he would not be getting his hopes up, that this was a pipe dream at best. But somewhere along the line he’d let himself be lulled into a false sense of security by the surety his friends and sister had that there’d be some solution. Maybe not college, maybe not even outside of Illinois, but somewhere he could escape to.

Apparently not. If Tucker couldn’t find Danny somewhere suitable to live, Danny didn’t know someone who could.

The line was silent. Even Tucker’s clacking had stopped, and Danny suddenly wished he’d start up again, just to fill the silence.

Ancients, was it really so bad? Staying in Amity? He had a life there – or an afterlife, at least. He had friends, too, until they went off to college themselves. He had ghosts to chase and frenemies to brawl and his parents. Well, kind of. His parents were…

Danny sighed and relaxed the part of him that kept him solid on the branches of the tree. Tangibility sloughed off of him like dead skin and he sank through the tree toward the ground. If two of the smartest people in his life couldn’t figure out how to get him out, Danny really was starting to believe it was hopeless.

He was just about to let himself sink fully into the ground and let the dark earth envelop him when the earpiece crackled back to life.

“Y’know,” Sam said speculatively, “there is one place you haven’t tested yet.”

Danny paused his slow descent into the ground, chin just peeking out of the dirt.

“What do you mean?”

“Weeeeelll,” she said slowly, drawing the word out. “It’s not the most ideal, but-”

“Sam,” Jazz cut in sharply. “You’re not suggesting where I think you are, are you?”

“What?” She asked defensively. “It’s, like, the only place guaranteed to have level 5 amounts of ambient ecto outside of Amity. It kinda seems like his only option.”

Danny perked up at that. Another city? With enough ecto for him to survive off of that Tuck and Jazz hadn’t thought of? Or maybe they had, but had decided it wasn’t a good fit. Danny pulled his body back out of the ground and settled on the grass, lifting a hand to press his comm further into his ear.

“What are you talking about, Sam? Where?”

“Sam,” Tucker echoed Jazz tentatively. “I don’t think…”

“I’m talking about Gotham.”

Silence. Did she just say…

“Gotham?” Danny repeated. He couldn’t have heard her right. She wanted him to move to Gotham? The Dread City? The Joker’s Playground? Home of the Bat? She couldn’t be serious… Right?

“Yep,” Sam said, popping her P. And shit, okay. Gotham. “Gotham U has an astronomy program and everything. And I bet we could score you a free ride, knowing the Waynes. They love a charity case.”

“Jeez, Sam,” Tucker hissed. “Blunt much?” Danny could practically hear her returning shrug.

“What, am I wrong? It’s not like Danny’s stupid, or anything, but all this ghost shit has seriously tanked his grades. With a little sob story here and a push from my parents there, though, I’m sure he’d be admitted in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah, but…” Tucker started weakly. “It’s Gotham. Like, Gotham Gotham. Y’know, Most Deadly City on Earth?”

“I know what it’s called, Tuck.”

“I just mean-”

“I’ve been there a few times on my parents’ stupid gala circuit, remember?” Sam interrupted impatiently. “It’s a rough ass city to be sure, but we’ve dealt with worse. Danny’ll be fine.”

“It is more than just a ‘rough ass city,’ Sam!” That was Jazz. “We are not sending him into that lion’s den! We’ll find him somewhere safe and normal where he can–”

“Danny won’t survive somewhere safe and normal,” Sam shot back. It sounded like she was leaning into Tucker’s microphone. “That’s the whole point of this stupid ecto hunt! We have to find somewhere fucked up enough that he can live without relying on the Realms.”

“Then we’ll find somewhere! Just not a city that’s known for how dangerous and unlivable it is. I refuse to get Danny out of the frying pan just to throw him right back into a fire!”

Sam scoffed. “Really, Jazz? You think Amity isn’t the fire? You think he’s any safer staying in that house?”

Danny cringed and the line went silent for a moment.

“Look, I know it’s been really bad recently,” Jazz started, but Tucker cut her off.

“You kinda don’t, though.”

“...What?”

“Like, I know we’ve been updating you and everything, but it’s different. Being here.”

“What do you mean? Different how?”

“Tuck…” Danny protested weakly. His best friend ignored him.

“I mean, your parents have always been odd, sure. But like, manageably odd, y’know? But when Phantom broke the portal…” Danny winced, rubbing his neck. “I don’t know. They kinda lost it. And now they just seem…” The line was quiet for a moment as Tucker searched for the word.

“Unwell,” Sam supplied. Her tone was grave. Tucker hummed in agreement. “Seriously, Jazz. He needs out of there.”

“I… Danny? Is that true?”

“It’s…” Danny started, but quickly trailed off. What was there to say? The last few months since he’d wrecked the portal had been… rough. He hadn’t thought it possible, but in recent weeks his parents had become even more radical. Their hate for Phantom had reached vitriolic levels, to the point that they seemed incapable of thinking about anything else. Forget eating, forget researching, forget Danny. The only thing that mattered anymore was hunting down the ghost that wrecked their life’s work.

Danny never wanted to learn what would happen if they learned that that ghost slept in the room next door.

“...not great,” is what Danny eventually settled on.

The line was silent in the wake of that non answer.

Danny flopped back on the lush March grass and stared up at the cloudless sky spanning above him. If he focused, he thought he could make out Venus burning through the blue. There were no other stars to be seen at this time of day.

“You really think Gotham would have enough ecto for me?” Danny asked into the void. He scratched absently at his neck and the gently writhing lichtenberg scars there. Sure, he’d heard horror stories of the atrocities that went on in Gotham, but Amity Park had literally been dragged into hell not a month ago. If he was gonna move somewhere that even had a chance at being as haunted as Amity, Gotham probably was it.

There was an icy spark behind his ribs at the thought of moving there, and he rubbed at his chest. No one willingly moved to Gotham.

“I mean, if you’re worried about the levels of ecto,” Sam said eventually, much quieter, “why not go check? New Jersey is just down the coast from Massachusetts, isn’t it?”

It was. And that was… not a terrible suggestion. Get a reading, see if it was worth it to spend the time wrapping his mind around the idea that moving to Gotham was a good idea. See if it was worth getting his hopes up again.

“I mean, you could make it there before dark if you left now,” Tucker added, picking up his typing once more. “Crime reports are down 68% during the day. You wouldn’t even be visible to cameras, especially if you stay invisible. They don’t have that type of tech there.”

Well. That kind of decided it then, didn’t it?

The cold spark behind his ribs burned a little brighter.

“Alright,” Danny said, drifting back up into the sky. There was an itching tug at his core, and he drifted toward where it led him toward the south. “I’ll head there now, then. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Danny,” Jazz said again, quiet but intense. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I know you don’t Jazz,” he said as gently as he could. The chill was increasing in strength as he picked up speed and raced for the border to Rhode Island. “But… If it’s my ticket out of Amity?” Ancients, the words felt almost giddy in his mouth. Out of Amity Park. How long had he been dreaming of that? “I have to take it. Don’t you think?”

The line was silent for a long time - long enough that Danny was nearly to the border by the time Jazz replied.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Just… be safe, okay?”

“Of course I will,” he promised. But even then, when everything was still okay, the words rang hollow and untrue.

⋆˖⁺⊹₊⋆✧⋆₊⊹⁺˖⋆

Ectoplasm made a different sound than water did when it hit the ground, Danny was learning. The endless drip, drip, drip was different from the sound a leaky faucet made. It was thicker and more robust; more like a plop than a plink. The sound of it was driving him mad. It was also the one of the only things tethering him to sanity.

Danny had long since given up trying to reconcile the dualities of this place. Time passed in a hazy-quick blur, yet seconds dragged on for hours; his body pulsed with life, yet they cut him open as if he were dead; he had no mouth, yet he was always, always screaming.

Hah. A reference. Good one.

Those little thoughts helped him keep hold of his sanity, too. Little snatches of memories from his life before… this. A mindless reference here, the fleeting thought of someone’s face there. All of it grounded him, no matter how slight. So what if he couldn’t remember what he was referencing or who he was seeing? All that mattered was he’d held onto enough of himself to do so in the first place.

The plop, plop, plop of his ectoplasm on the floor slowed to a stop. He would have groaned with relief if he had any capability to do so. The muzzle affixed to his jaw and over the bridge of his nose assured that he did not. He shifted slightly in his restraints upon the cold surgical table.

Tonight’s the night, he thought sluggishly. The doctors had left minutes ago, and unlike the past few weeks, Danny had clung desperately to consciousness in their absence. The researchers had used to work in shifts so that someone was dissecting working on him at all times, but they’d recently pared down to a single team that required breaks to eat and sleep. He didn’t care enough to wonder why. He just knew it gave him a sliver of a chance.

That was all he needed.

The increase in rest Danny had been afforded these past few weeks hadn’t left him unaffected. Rather, he was brimming with an amount of energy he hadn’t felt in months. He felt fully lucid and aware for the first time in Ancients know how long, and he wasn’t going to let this chance go to waste. No, he’d waited and waited for all those extra hours of rest to start to add up and now… Now it was time for his patience to pay off.

Danny stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. If this didn’t work, he’d have to wait another few weeks to work up the energy again. He closed his eyes and centered his breathing. Then, with an internal cry, Danny wrenched his transformation from the depths of his shrunken, emaciated core.

It felt like he was rending himself in two, like he was being torn apart from within and born anew. Twin beams of light reflected against the sterile white ceiling, and all at once the transformation took hold. All at once, Danny was shoved back into his aching, all-too-human body and left panting on the icy metal. It was the most glorious feeling in the world.

It took so little effort to squeeze his hands out of his ecto-resistant restraints, to roll off the side of the table and collapse on the floor with a dull thud. The pain of the impact rocked through him, but he didn’t have the mind to care. Tears leaked out of his eyes, once again clear liquid instead of neon ectoplasm, and his chest shook with hysterical, silent sobs.

He was human again. He- He was a person, just like he’d insisted and sobbed for hours upon first arriving here. A fact that the doctors had ignored in favor of muzzling his cries so they could carry on with their experiments in peace.

At the thought, Danny hoisted himself into a sitting position and scrabbled, half feral, at the latch that kept the mask affixed to his face. His fingers were stiff and ineffectual from being broken and pinned down into uselessness long ago, however, and nothing he did could make the wretched thing budge.

Danny dropped his head into his hands and cried.

His tears dripped through his fingers and into the rapidly diminishing puddle of ectoplasm he was sitting in. His body was already trying to sluggishly heal itself using that which had bled off him a few scant hours ago, and before long he was sitting on dry ground. He sniffed and looked up.

Alright, it was time to go. Sitting around wallowing wouldn’t get him anywhere. What he needed to do was get out. The recouping of his ectoplasm along with the extra rest he’d been stockpiling meant he was still reeling with unprecedented energy. He was well aware a good amount of it was adrenaline, but that just meant he had to work quickly.

Danny pushed himself to his feet. He tilted precariously before he managed to right himself with one hand on the cold surgical table. So cold, even with his ectoplasm leaking all over it. He stumbled over to the wall that controlled the Ghost Shield, to the glowing button that had ruled his life for the past uncountable days.

With feral glee, he slammed his human fist into it. The apparatus gave an electronic whine, and then the green glow dulled to gray and the Ghost Shield surrounding the lab fizzled out of existence.

Danny had never felt such relief.Alarms blared to life, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered, except the bliss that was transforming into his ghost form without any expectation of pain, without any fear. He was free. Without a backward glance, Danny hauled up his intangibility and rocketed through the ceiling of the lab and into the open expanse of the night sky.

[kirschteinsbitch]

More Than Friends

Pairing: Giyuu Tomioka x Fem!Reader Summary: You take your best friend's virginity. Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI, Modern AU, College AU, friends to lovers, alcohol, eventual smut, blowjob, spitting, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie Word Count: ~8k Author Note: first time posting on here, be nice 😭🙏🏾

Despite your completely opposite personalities, Giyuu had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember. You were a natural extrovert, always surrounded by a lively crowd, while Giyuu preferred the quiet solace of his own company. But no matter how many people clamored for your attention, nothing and no one could ever come between you and Giyuu. You'd sooner let the world fall apart than let that happen.

High school had been a blur of late-night study sessions, stolen laughter, and quiet evenings spent cuddled together on one of your couches. Rumors about your relationship were inevitable—everyone assumed there was something deeper going on between you. But the whispers were usually silenced the moment you publicly introduced your latest boyfriend.

Giyuu never made any comments about your questionable love life. He listened patiently when you vented about breakups and bad dates, never offering judgment or unsolicited advice. And in return, you didn't comment on the fact that Giyuu had never been on a date at all—or shown any interest in changing that.

It wasn't until you were 16, during one of your usual late-night hangouts, that the two of you stumbled into a conversation neither of you had anticipated.

"You know," you began, sprawled across his bed, while he sat at his desk, textbooks and notes scattered around him. "If either of us are still virgins by the time we're 21, let's just lose it to each other."

His pen came to a halt mid-scratch on the page, and he looked up at you with wide eyes. A blush crept up his neck, but he couldn't hide the curiosity in his gaze. "What?"

You propped yourself up on your elbows, meeting his stare with a playful grin. "I'm serious. It's better than hooking up with some random person, isn't it? At least we know each other."

He looked back at his desk, his shoulders stiff. "That's... a crazy thing to promise."

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before responding. "Why? I trust you."

There was a long pause as he contemplated your words. Then, without looking at you, he muttered, "fine, then."

You'd laughed as you brushed it off as a joke, even though deep down you and Giyuu both knew that it was a promise made in all seriousness.

Still, life moved on, and the pact slipped into the back of your mind. The following year, you ended up losing your virginity to a guy you'd been seeing for a few months.

Obviously, you told Giyuu. Just like you always did. He'd been the first person you confided in about your first kiss, your first period, the first to hear all your secrets and milestones before you even thought about telling your parents.

But this time, his reaction caught you off guard. Normally, Giyuu was calm, indifferent, unshaken by even your most outrageous stories. Yet, as you casually told him the news, he went completely cold. His usually soft features hardened and his responses became clipped and distant, like you'd done something to upset him.

"Are you... mad at me?" you'd asked, half-joking but undeniably uneasy. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

"No," he replied flatly, jaw clenched as he avoided your gaze.

"You sure?" You pressed, searching his face for a crack in his armor.

"I'm fine," he said firmly, ending the conversation before it could go any further.

It was the first time you'd seen him so irritated with you, and it made you worry. Giyuu wasn't the type to get openly angry or frustrated—especially not with you.

He wouldn't tell you what was wrong, no matter how much you pushed. And eventually, you stopped trying to get answers. But from that day on, you made a silent vow to yourself: no more rambling to Giyuu about your romantic or sexual ventures. Some things were better left unsaid.

However, Giyuu's curiosity got the better of him one particular time: the night of your high school graduation.

"Why'd you break up with Shinazugawa?" he'd asked, adjusting his tie in the full-length mirror of your room.

You paused, giving him a surprised look through the reflection. “…Why're you asking that now? It’s been months.”

He shrugged, feigning indifference. “Curious, I guess." In truth, he was curious. You and Sanemi had lasted almost six months—longer than any of your previous relationships. He couldn’t help but wonder why you’d ended things when everything seemed to be going so well.

"Well," you sighed, patting your beauty blender against your cheek as you leaned closer to your vanity mirror. "Because of the way he talks about you." you explained, exasperated.

Giyuu blinked, his hands freezing mid-motion as he turned to look at you. "Huh?"

"He's fucking rude," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "I told him from the start that we couldn’t date unless he was okay with us being friends, and I wholeheartedly meant it. But the second I mentioned you? Instant attitude."

Giyuu's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "What did he say?"

"Doesn't matter," you muttered, waving him off. "The point is, he's a prick I should've never wasted any time with."

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you blend your makeup with practiced ease, your words settling over him like a warm blanket. You hadn't even seemed to think twice about it, choosing him over your boyfriend as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"...Thank you," he said quietly, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

You glanced at him through the mirror, catching the faint blush that dusted the tips of his ears. "Don't thank me," you replied with a soft smile. "You mean more to me than any of those dumb guys."

Giyuu rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fluttering in his chest as he tightened his tie with an  unnecessary force. "And why do you only go for dumb guys?"

You frowned, picking up a tube of lipgloss. "The real question is why they're the only ones that approach me." Tilting your head, you gazed at him with a wistful look. "I wish they were more like you," you murmured.

You didn't notice the way his hands stilled again, nor the faint flush that crept up his cheeks. He cleared his throat, turning back to the mirror.

"They still wouldn't deserve you," he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

"Hm?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow as you looked over your shoulder.

"Nothing," he said quickly, reaching for his cap and gown spread out on your bed. "We're going to be late."

Smiling, you brushed off his odd behavior, setting down your lipgloss and grabbing your heels. "Fine, let's go."

But even as you walked out the door, Giyuu's thoughts lingered on your words.

I wish they were more like you.

━

The beginning of college brought with it a whirlwind of changes for both you and Giyuu. You attended the same school, so the two of you decided to save money and move into a cozy apartment together.

The apartment was small, but homey enough for the two of you. There was a shared bathroom between the two bedrooms, a cramped kitchen that you somehow made work, and a living room where you would often curl up on the couch after long days of classes or work.

Despite the small space, you quickly slipped into familiar patterns. Giyuu was a morning person, usually up before the sun, while you preferred to sleep in and stay out late. You'd often stumble out of your room in the late morning, finding him already making breakfast or buried in his textbooks.

You would both go about your routines, respecting each other's space, and somehow, it was like nothing had really changed. Giyuu was still the quiet, composed person you knew, and you were still the loud, energetic one.

But there was a subtle shift, a tension that started to build over time. You started to see Giyuu in.. a different way. You couldn't tell if it was because you'd finally stopped suppressing thoughts you'd always had, or if it was because you were watching him grow from a socially awkward teenager into a more gentle, confident adult.

There was an unspoken understanding between you that neither of you addressed directly, but the lines between friendship and something more began to blur the longer you lived together.

Giyuu's 21st birthday arrived with a mix of anticipation and excitement, and it was clear from the start that he didn't want much fuss about it.

You knew him too well by now, his preference for quiet evenings over anything resembling a party. But 21 was a big deal, and you weren't going to let it slip by unnoticed, no matter how much he grumbled about it.

The party was at your apartment, living room adorned with streamers and balloons, the tiny kitchen bursting with treats. You invited only a few of your mutual friends, knowing a crowd would make him squirm.

It was supposed to be low-key, and that's exactly how you pitched it to him. You bought a cake, a couple of cases of his favorite beer, and told him you were keeping it small.

As Giyuu searched through the playlist in the living room, you took the opportunity to slip away and get dressed in your room.

Your fingers fumbled with the delicate zipper of your silk black minidress, the fabric soft against your skin. Lace detailing adorned the bust, and you paired it with dainty gold jewelry.

"Yuu!" you called out, your voice slightly muffled as you struggled to zip up the dress.

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips when it caught halfway. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing your best friend standing in the doorway, a deep flush spread across his cheeks as his eyes roamed over your exposed back.

"Sorry, could you help me zip this up?" you asked, trying to suppress a smile.

"Oh, sure," he murmured, stepping closer to you.

"Thanks," you hummed, turning around and facing your mirror as he stood behind you. His fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully zipped up the dress, the warmth of his touch making you hold your breath for a moment. The silence hung between you two, both of you aware of the closeness.

Once he finished, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on your reflection in the mirror for a second longer than necessary. "You look nice."

You smiled at the compliment, turning to him as your gaze traveled down his outfit. It was simple—an oversized black graphic hoodie paired with dark blue baggy jeans. "So do you," you said, a playful glint in your eyes.

Giyuu ran a hand through his long hair, shyly averting his gaze. "You're leaving it down?" you asked, eyes narrowing as you took in the silkiness of his dark strands.

He shook his head and reached for a hairtie on his wrist. As he raised his arms to tie his hair into a low bun, you caught a glimpse of his toned torso before he turned to leave.

He glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he rolled his eyes at your playful pout. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a cold can of beer, the can crinkling as he cracked it open.

"Hey, Giyuu," you called, "You remember that deal we made? Junior year?" you asked, slowly making your way into the kitchen.

Giyuu's eyes widened ever so slightly, then he turned to you, masking his surprise with his usual stoic expression. "What deal?"

A sly smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned over the counter, rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers. "The one about our virginities," you added casually, making sure to glance up at him. You could already see the subtle flush creeping up his neck.

"Oh," he mumbled, his voice faltering as he quickly brought the beer can to his lips, taking a long sip to avoid your gaze. "That?"

"That," you echoed, as though it was the most normal thing in the world. You found what you were looking for and closed the drawer with a soft click, then turned to face him fully. "Is it still on?"

Giyuu took a step back, leaning against the counter, his gaze dropping to the floor as he shifted uneasily. You moved closer, feeling the tension between you two building with every inch you closed.

"Do you.. want it to be?" he whispered, his grip tightening around the can.

You nodded silently, your lips curving into a small smile. The air between you seemed to thicken, your presence commanding his full attention. "But, it's your call."

He gulped as you reached behind you, pulling out a shiny tiara—silver with blue gems that sparkled in the light. It glimmered as you placed it gently on his head, reading "BIRTHDAY GIRL".

His breath hitched as his eyes flickered down to meet yours. You could see the internal struggle in the slight tremble of his fingers, but there was a hunger in his eyes, a desire that mirrored your own.

Before Giyuu could respond, the door to your apartment suddenly burst open with an almost comical force.

"Shit— I didn't lock it—" you muttered, but the sentence was cut off by the loud voices of your friends Kyojuro and Tengen. They stormed into the kitchen with enthusiasm, greeting the birthday boy like they hadn't seen him in ages.

"Happy birthday, Tomioka!" Kyojuro exclaimed, his bright smile lighting up the room, while Tengen gave Giyuu a friendly hug.

A group of their friends followed, chatting and laughing, completely oblivious to the tension that had just existed between you two. You sighed, amused but a little frustrated by the timing, casting Giyuu a knowing glance. "Later," you mouthed, the promise clear, before turning your attention to the guests.

For now, whatever was brewing between you and Giyuu would have to wait. The music cranked up a notch, drinks began circulating, and the lively atmosphere of a party took over your apartment.

Parties had never been Giyuu's scene. The idea of being crammed into a hot, noisy space with a bunch of drunk strangers was more torturous than entertaining to him. The thought of anyone willingly signing up for such chaos baffled him.

Which was why, when he did attend a party, the night often ended with you holding his hair back while he dry-heaved over the toilet. It had become an unfortunate tradition, one you were determined to avoid tonight. After all, it was his birthday, and you wanted him to enjoy it.

You kept a subtle eye on him from the kitchen, monitoring his drink count like a hawk. Thankfully, Giyuu was nothing if not responsible, so you weren't too concerned.

Your lips curved into a soft smile as you watched him from across the room. He was standing near Mitsuri and Obanai, his usual reserved demeanor softened as he laughed at one of her jokes. College had done him good, coaxing him out of his shell and introducing him to people who clearly cared about him.

"Having fun?" Tengen's voice broke through your thoughts. He leaned casually against the counter beside you, his broad shoulders brushing yours as he gave you a grin.

"Of course I am," you replied, lifting your cup to your lips. The drink burned as it slid down your throat, a sensation you'd come to appreciate.

"I'm glad," he hummed, reaching for the bottle of Hennessy beside you. His hand brushed your waist as he gently nudged you aside, his touch lingering just long enough to make you uneasy. "I've missed you."

You stepped to the side, swirling the drink in your cup as you kept your gaze low. You knew exactly where this conversation was heading. "I thought we talked about this," you murmured, your tone quiet but firm.

Tengen wasn't one to back down so easily. His fingers found their way under your chin, tilting your head up so you were forced to meet his eyes. "I can't get enough of you," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a way that might've once made you falter.

You let out a sigh, glancing briefly toward the living room where Giyuu sat on the couch with Shinobu. His soft smile stirred something in you that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Turning back to Tengen, you said bluntly, "I told you. I have no interest in fucking you anymore."

His hand dropped to his side, though his composure remained intact, as if rejection was a game he'd learned to play long ago. A smirk played at his lips as he leaned casually against the counter, the bottle now in his hand. "You're into Tomioka, aren't you?" he asked, his tone casual.

You rolled your eyes, your patience wearing thin. "What's it to you?"

He tilted his head, his grin widening as if he'd just uncovered a secret. "You could have anyone you want. Why haven't you gone for him all these years?"

Your scoff was sharp as you turned away from him, irritation prickling at your skin. "None of your fucking business," you spat. Before Tengen could press further, you raised your voice, addressing the group. "Y'all down for Charades?"

Mitsuri clapped her hands excitedly. "Let's do teams! Losers take shots!"

Cheers rang throughout the living room, washing away the lingering tension from the kitchen. You slipped away from the conversation, taking a seat on the couch beside Kyojuro, grateful for the shift in energy.

Shinobu moved with precision, pouring shots into an assortment of glasses lined up on the coffee table. "Rules are simple," she declared, her tone almost too sweet to be trusted. "One minute per turn. If your team can't guess, you all drink."

Drunk Charades was a beloved tradition in your friend group, despite you and Giyuu's shared distaste for overindulgence. Somehow, though, it was always fun with this group.

Teams formed quickly: you, Obanai, and Kyojuro on one side, while Giyuu, Mitsuri, and Tengen joined forces on the other. Shinobu naturally declared herself gamemaster, already scribbling prompts down.

Giyuu went first, his cheeks tinged pink as the group chanted "Birthday boy!" when he stood. Shinobu handed him a slip of paper with a sly smile.

His brows furrowed as he read the prompt, glancing at her in clear confusion. She only shrugged, eyes fixed on the timer on her phone. "One minute starts now."

He hesitated, then raised his arms in a wide circle above his head. "Circle? Sun! Clock!" Mitsuri guessed eagerly, practically bouncing off the couch.

Giyuu's frown deepened as he repeated the motion with more emphasis. "It's clearly a halo," Tengen said smugly, giving Mitsuri a teasing glance.

Shinobu shook her head. "You have thirty seconds," she announced smoothly.

With an exasperated sigh, Giyuu dropped his arms and began walking in place, taking slow, exaggerated steps. Realization hit you instantly, but you stayed quiet, secretly enjoying the show.

"Uh... giant?" Tengen tilted his head, increasingly lost.

"Oh! Oh!" Mitsuri gasped, clasping her hands together. "Astronaut!" Giyuu's eyes lit up, nodding vigorously before repeating the large circle motion with renewed desperation.

"Planet? Space?" Tengen guessed again, brows furrowed deeply. He opened his mouth to speak just as the timer buzzed loudly.

"Moon," Shinobu announced with far too much delight. Mitsuri groaned but took her shot without complaint, followed by the rest of her team.

Before anyone could reset, Kyojuro shot to his feet, practically snatching the slip of paper from Shinobu's hand. His eyes scanned the prompt before gleaming with excitement.

"Your minute starts now," she announced, setting the timer with a knowing smirk.

Without hesitation, Kyojuro mimed sweeping your floor, pausing only to wipe imaginary sweat from his brow.

"Sweeping? Maid?" Obanai guessed, one brow arching as he crossed his arms skeptically.

He shook his head fervently, shifting tactics. He twirled in place, pretending to wear a ballgown. The"dance" was so dramatic that even Giyuu let out a quiet chuckle.

"Dress? Princess?" Obanai tried again, clearly reaching.

"Thirty seconds," Shinobu reminded, resting her chin in her hands.

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, Kyojuro dropped to one knee, pretending to slip on a shoe.

"What the fuck," Obanai muttered, utterly baffled.

You couldn't hold back a laugh. "Oh shit—Cinderella!"

"Correct," Shinobu confirmed, stopping the timer. "That one was too easy."

"That was ridiculous," Obanai muttered, but even he couldn't hide his faint amusement.

The game spiraled as the drinks began to take their toll, and the room descended into a blur of laughter, slurred accusations, and a few questionable rule changes. At one point, Tengen insisted that charades could "absolutely allow sound effects," sparking a hilariously heated debate that ended with everyone taking a shot "just because."

Shinobu and Giyuu somehow remained composed, though her smirk suggested she enjoyed the chaos she'd created. Meanwhile, Mitsuri and Kyojuro had surrendered to helpless fits of giggles, practically falling over each other as they struggled through increasingly ridiculous prompts.

The final round ended with Mitsuri acting as a ballerina, her body balanced perfectly as she performed a skilled pirouette, earning a standing ovation. You leaned back, your head resting gently against the couch as the group's laughter echoed through the room. The warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, blending perfectly with the hum of music playing in the background.

Without thinking, your gaze drifted across the room, finding Giyuu. The soft flush on his cheeks from the alcohol gave him an uncharacteristically vulnerable look, but his eyes were steady, their usual calm tinged with something you couldn't quite place.

Slowly, you tore your gaze from Giyuu, shifting your attention to Tengen as he stood, dragging a very unsteady Kyojuro up with him. "I should get this dumbass home," he grunted, looping an arm securely around the blonde's torso to keep him upright.

Obanai gave a curt nod, helping Mitsuri into her coat. "Same here." Turning to Giyuu, he muttered, "Happy birthday."

"Bye, Y/n! Bye, Tomioka!" Mitsuri chirped, her words slurring slightly as she waved enthusiastically, her bright smile as infectious as ever.

Giyuu nodded in acknowledgment, rising to his feet to see them off. Meanwhile, Shinobu had already started tidying up, gathering the shotglasses from the coffee table as you picked up stray papers and empty cans.

"This was really fun, Y/n," she said with a soft smile as she washed the glasses in the sink.

You glanced over with a small grin of your own. "Thanks. I'm glad Giyuu even let me throw him a party."

Giyuu, reentering the room just as you spoke, rolled his eyes. "I heard that."

"Good," you shot back, sticking your tongue out playfully as you balled up a paper towel and tossed it into the trash.

Shinobu giggled at the exchange, slipping into her shoes near the door. "Goodnight, you two," she said warmly before turning to Giyuu. "And happy birthday, Tomioka."

"Thanks," he replied softly, walking her to the door and locking it behind her as she left.

With the apartment now quiet, the stillness hung in the air as Giyuu leaned awkwardly against the wall, his gaze fixed on the floor. It was obvious he was waiting for you to address the unspoken tension between you—whatever the fuck you'd meant when you brought up that deal from junior year.

"Hey, Giyuu," you sighed, bringing a hand up to rub your temple, the weight of your earlier words pressing heavily on your chest.

He straightened slightly at the sound of your voice, his gaze meeting yours as he looked at you.

"I'm sorry if I made things weird by asking you that earlier," you murmured, your voice quieter now. "You probably want to lose your virginity to someone special, and I totally get that. I—" You paused, realizing how much you were rambling. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

Your lips parted to apologize, but the words caught in your throat when you noticed Giyuu had moved. He was in front of you, his tall frame close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to meet his eyes.

His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, "You are special."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat. "Not like that, Giyuu. I mean—"

Before you could finish, he took a step closer. "I want it to be with you," he interrupted, his voice firm.

The moment the words left his mouth, his eyes widened, shocked by his own confession.

You stared at him, your jaw slack, the weight of his admission rendering you momentarily speechless. "You do?" you finally managed, your voice almost a whisper.

He nodded, and a soft smile curved your lips. Wordlessly, you reached up, your arms draping loosely around his shoulders. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again, darkened with need.

"Kiss me, Giyuu," you whispered, and that was all it took. His hands found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer. Your lips met in a heated kiss, his eagerness surprising you.

It slightly uncoordinated at first—hesitant movements revealing his lack of experience and the slight haze of alcohol clouding your thoughts. But you quickly took the lead, your fingers tangling in his soft hair as you deepened the kiss, tilting your head to guide him.

As your bodies pressed together, you pushed him gently, steering him backward until his back hit his bedroom door with a soft thud.

You broke the kiss for just a moment, both of you breathing heavily. His arms encircled your waist, holding you close as his eyes searched yours, running his tongue over his lips.

You couldn't stand the distance for long. Your lips met his again, more urgent this time, pouring every unspoken feeling into the kiss. He smiled against your mouth, his lips moving against yours in a way that sent warmth rushing through your entire body.

One of his hands left your waist, fumbling for the door handle. When it finally clicked open, he pulled you both inside, his other hand never letting go of you.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as the door shut behind you with a quiet click. You couldn't believe what was happening—what you were doing.

You were about to have sex with your lifelong best friend.

The very thought made your head spin. No matter how many times you'd secretly imagined it, you never thought the night would actually come.

Giyuu, meanwhile, was a tangle of emotions. The sensation of your lips against his sent waves of desire coursing through him, but there was also a deep sense of nostalgia.

Because this wasn't the first time your lips had met his.

You probably didn't remember, but Giyuu never forgot. After your senior prom, he'd walked you to your doorstep. You'd gone as friends, and the evening had been fun, uncomplicated—until he parked in front of your house. Before getting out, you'd paused, turned toward him, and thanked him for being such a good friend. Then, you'd leaned over the console and kissed him softly on his lips.

A giddy smile lit your face as you rushed out of his black honda civic, leaving him stunned in the aftermath. You'd never mentioned it again, and neither had he, though he replayed it countless times in his mind. Funny how you had been his first everything.

When he reluctantly pulled away, his eyes remained closed for a moment longer, as if clinging to the warmth of your lips. When he finally opened them, they were half-lidded, adjusting to the soft, dim glow of his room.

Slowly, your hands trailed down his chest, your touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You gave him a gentle push, guiding him onto the bed. He sank into the mattress, his eyes glued to you as you swung a leg over to straddle his hips. His breathing grew uneven the moment you settled over his thighs, the feeling of you on top of him making his body tense.

"Giyuu," you murmured, your voice dripping with sultry warmth.

He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he met your gaze.

"You really want this?" you asked, tilting your head as your fingers slid into his hair. You tugged the tie loose, letting the strands spill over your hands like silk.

His eyes fluttered shut briefly before reopening, his dark irises locking onto yours with a mix of nervousness and need. "Y/n, just—" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Just.. keep kissing me. Please."

Without another word, you leaned down, capturing his lips with yours. As you shifted slightly, pressing against his growing erection, he gasped, and you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, your tongue slipping past his parted lips.

Your fingers tenderly cradled his face, your touch both firm and reassuring. One of his hands gripped your waist, while the other buried itself in your hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

As your hips shifted again, a low, breathy groan escaped him, reverberating through your chest. The sound sent a pulse of heat straight to your core, spurring you on. You let your hands trail down his chest, slipping under his hoodie to explore the hard lines of muscle beneath.

"Take it off," you whispered, sitting up to look down at him. His eyes were dark, lips swollen from your kisses. He moved up slightly, gripping the fabric of his hoodie and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. The pale skin of his chest was exposed, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

He quickly tossed it elsewhere and returned his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to him. A smile spread across your face at his obedience, admiring the way his chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, your fingers grazing lightly over his skin. Leaning down, you pressed a trail of featherlight kisses along his collarbone, your lips brushing against his skin with a deliberate softness.

His fingertips dug into your sides as he hissed softly, his hips instinctively bucking against you. The friction drew a needy whine from your throat, your breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts. Lifting your head, you murmured, "You can touch me, y'know."

His chest rose and fell rapidly. "I am touching you," he panted, voice strained.

You shook your head, guiding his hands higher up your body until they rested just below your chest. "You can touch me more, Giyuu."

His eyes darkened with hunger as he sat up, pulling you snugly onto his lap, his back pressing against the headboard. His breath ghosted over your skin as his hands wrapped around your breasts, hesitating for only a moment before giving them an experimental squeeze.

"Is this.. okay?" he breathed, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your dress.

A wave of heat rushed through you, your heart pounding as you nodded. "Yeah." Your hands slid up his arms, steadying yourself. "Want it off?"

He couldn't resist a chance to see more of your body. "Yes," he breathed back.

Giyuu pushed you against him with one hand while the other found the zipper of your dress. He tugged it downwards, revealing the smooth expanse of your bare back. Your fingers gripped the hem of the dress as you pulled it off your body, silently grateful for your decision not to wear a bra.

Giyuu's eyes widened as they raked over your nearly naked form. "Fuck," he muttered, not knowing where to look. You watched him as he studied your body, from the curves of your breasts to the smoothness of your stomach, down to your hips covered only by black lace panties.

He felt like cumming from the sight alone, how the hell would he be able to fuck you?

Your lips met again, bare chests pressed together as your mouths moved in a heated, breathless rhythm. Giyuu's hands slid from your waist to grab at your ass, kneading the soft flesh as you whimpered into the kiss.

Your arms wrapped around his torso, savoring the warmth of his skin as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Rolling your hips against his, you felt him shudder. He broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, breath coming in uneven pants.

You pressed soft kisses along his neck, drawing a quiet, needy sound from his throat. Your hand trailed down between you, pressing against his erection, igniting a fire within him that he had never felt before.

As you sucked on a spot on his collarbone, you moved your hand up and down his length, gauging the size of it. Pulling back slightly, you slid off his lap, positioning yourself between his legs. He watched you, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. He already missed the warmth of your body pressed against his, but the anticipation of what was coming next had him captivated.

"Can I?" you asked softly, your fingers lingering over the zip of his jeans.

He quickly nodded, making you smirk at his eagerness. His bulge straining against the fabric was impossible to ignore, aching for release under your touch.

With impatient hands, you wasted no time in unzipping his jeans and tugging them down along with his boxers. Your breath caught as his cock was freed, standing proud against his abdomen. For a moment, all you could do was stare, your cheeks warming as you let out a shaky exhale. It was perfect.

You'd been with a lot of guys, but none of them even compared to Giyuu. His skin was soft, tip flushed a delicate pink that contrasted beautifully against the rest of him. The sight alone sent a pulse of heat through you, and you licked your lips, your gaze locked on him.

"Giyuu," you murmured, your hand wrapping firmly around him.

His whole body tensed, a shuddering gasp escaping as he bit down on his lip, trying and failing to muffle the sound.

"Have you ever gotten your dick sucked before?" you asked, your hand moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm along his length.

Giyuu shook his head, tilting it back as a shaky breath escaped him. He'd never been in this position before, especially not with you.

"Good," you smiled, leaning forward, letting a bead of saliva fall from your lips and onto his swollen tip. The sight alone had him whimpering, his hips twitching reflexively. The moisture slicked your hand, making every stroke smoother as you worked him over.

Then, you took him into your mouth, lips wrapping around his cock. Giyuu's reaction was immediate, a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat as his head fell back against the headboard. "Fuck—" he choked out, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, and his hips bucked involuntarily. The sudden thrust made you gag, and you pulled back, coughing slightly.

Giyuu's eyes shot open in panic. "Shit- I'm so sorry," he blurted out, I didn't m-"

"Shh," you hushed, placing a calming hand on his thigh. "It's okay," you reassured, your voice soft and steady. Your other hand resumed its slow, deliberate strokes, eyes locked on his. "You can hold me if that helps."

He hesitated for a moment before lifting a hand, fingers trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His thumb brushed a stray strand of hair from your eyes. You leaned into his palm briefly before lowering yourself again, your mouth returning to his dick.

You teased him, swirling your tongue around his sensitive head, savoring the soft, broken moans that spilled from his lips. His hand slid into your hair, not pushing, but simply holding on as if you were his lifeline.

"Y/n," he gasped, his voice strained and breathless. "I'm gonna—fuck—" His breaths came faster, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge. His cock twitched in your mouth, but just as he was about to lose control, you stopped, lifting your head up.

Giyuu let out a strangled groan, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. One hand dragged over his flushed face while the other remained fisted in the sheets.

"Sorry, Yuu," you cooed sweetly, crawling back onto his lap. Your hands cupped his flushed cheeks, guiding his gaze to yours. His wide, dazed eyes met your own, filled with unspoken desire. "I want us to cum together," you murmured, slowly pressing your lips to his.

He moaned into the kiss, the taste of himself mixing with your saliva as you tilted his head how you pleased. His hands roamed your back, tracing slow, deliberate paths along your skin. One hand slid lower, hooking into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down your legs.

You lifted slightly to let him pull them off entirely, tossing them aside. Together, you worked to rid him of the last of his clothing, his pants and underwear joining the growing pile on the floor. Now, with nothing between you, the heat of his body melded with yours.

You pressed your core against him, your wet folds sliding over his cock. A gasp escaped your lips as you began to roll your hips, his length gliding between your slickness, the head brushing your clit with each pass. Giyuu tilted his head back, nails digging into your hip as you continued your slow movements.

"D-don't we need a condom?" he stammered out, his voice shaky as his hands held you still.

"I'm on the pill," you assured, meeting Giyuu's gaze as he opened his eyes. "Plus, it feels better this way," you added.

Giyuu gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing at your words. "You trust me?" you asked softly, tilting your head as your lips brushed his.

"Of course," he replied without hesitation.

You hummed, your hand trailing down his body, fingers brushing over heated skin until they reached his straining cock. His breath hitched as you positioned yourself above him, guiding his tip to your slick entrance. "I'll go slow" you murmured, sinking down onto him.

Giyuu whimpered your name, his head falling back against the headboard, lips parted in a breathless moan. His grip on you tightened as his hips trembled beneath yours. You felt so good—too good—and he could barely think past the haze of lust clouding his mind.

"Fuck," you cursed, nails digging into his shoulders when he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that left you gasping. You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by the sensation.

Slowly, you moved your hips up and down, Giyuu's soft moans spurring you on. There was the slight sting of feeling stretched at every movement, but the pain was almost welcomed.

His nails dug into the flesh of your ass, guiding you gently as you moved. When his tip grazed that perfect spot deep inside, a breathless moan escaped you, and your hips rolled instinctively, seeking more of that intoxicating pressure.

You sat up slightly, half-lidded eyes meeting his as you leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as his hips bucked up to meet your rhythm. His tongue tangled with yours, the kiss growing deeper, more desperate.

A low hum of pleasure vibrated against his mouth as your arms snaked around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him as you continued to move back and forth on his lap.

Breaking from the kiss, Giyuu trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Don't stop.. feels... so good," he choked out between breaths.

You whimpered, tilting your head back to give him better access as your legs locked around his waist. The pleasure was electric, each deep thrust sending bursts of stars behind your closed eyelids.

Giyuu's lips trailed lower, wrapping around your nipple as he sucked gently, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. Instinctively, you began to bounce harder on him, fingers tangling in his dark hair. He groaned, eyebrows knitting together as his tongue flicked over your sensitive bud, his nails pressing deeper into your skin.

Your legs began to tremble, overwhelmed by the increasing pleasure. Giyuu panted, guiding your hips as he rolled his own upward, grinding into you with deep, deliberate strokes. A desperate moan escaped both of your lips, and you couldn't help but cling closer to him, your grip tightening in his hair.

"Fuck," he moaned quietly, his glossy, dark eyes looking up at you in admiration and need. "Can I move?"

"Please," you whined.

Giyuu lifted you effortlessly, turning you over and laying you gently onto the soft mattress. His hands caressed your thighs as he hovered above you, his heated gaze tracing every curve of your body.

Using one arm to prop himself up, his hair fell like a curtain around you. "This okay?" he asked, running his tip between your folds to find your entrance once more.

"More than," you breathed, relaxing under his warm sheets and soft breaths.

You kept your gaze locked with each other's as he pushed himself inside, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes were lidded, pupils blown and cheeks flushed as a shaky breath escaped him, savoring the way your body held him so perfectly. You were so wet that he slid in with ease, allowing him to pull out before sliding back in.

For the first time, Giyuu understood why people craved this kind of intimacy. He'd never felt anything this good in his life. His lips found yours in a languid kiss, moving in sync with his gentle thrusts. Warmth bloomed in his chest, though he couldn't tell if it was from the physical pleasure or because it was you beneath him.

Despite it being his first time, every slow, deliberate thrust found your sweet spot, making you arch into him, fingers digging into his back. He groaned into your mouth, his hips stuttering against yours.

You hiked your legs higher up his torso, feeling him deeper inside you. Pulling away just enough to catch his breath, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning over your skin as he whispered breathless praises.

"Oh, fuck- Giyuu-" you moaned, your back arching in pleasure as he continued to thrust into you with increasing speed. Your nails dug into his skin, scraping red trails down his back as a wet, squelching noise resonated from where your bodies were connected.

With one well-placed thrust, your release hit you like a wave, body trembling as he fucked you through your orgasm. Giyuu lifted his head to watch you in awe as you twitched and writhed beneath him.

You gasped, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you felt his fingers against your clit, messily toying with the bundle of nerves. You panted and rolled your hips up against him, unable to hold back any longer as you squirted onto his hand and abdomen.

Giyuu's eyes shot open, feeling your slick warmth coating his skin, and before he knew it, he was cumming as well, his seed spurting out within your walls. He let out a whiny, cracked moan, his head dipping into your neck as he thrusted lazily inside you.

When he finished, he slowly pulled out, watching with wide pupils as his and your cum dripped from your quivering entrance. Panting, he laid down beside you, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close against his warm chest. "Thank you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before burying his face in the top of your head.

"Don't thank me," you hummed softly, closing your eyes as you leaned closer to him. "I loved it."

You and Giyuu weren't dating—weren't in love. (At least, not openly.) Yet somehow, what had just happened between you was far from casual. No matter how many excuses you tried to make, friends don't make love to each other.

After a few moments of shared silence, catching your breath and grounding yourself, you sat up. A soft yawn escaped your lips as you stretched your arms over your head before slipping out of bed.

Reaching down, you grabbed your panties from the floor, pulling them back on as you made your way to Giyuu's dresser. The sound of shifting sheets caught your attention, and when you turned, you found him sitting up, brows drawn together in concern. "Aren't you staying?"

A warm smile spread across your lips as you pulled one of his t-shirts from the drawer and slipped it over your head. "Of course I am," you reassured him gently. "I'm just going to the bathroom."

True to your word, you returned a moment later to find him still in bed. He had pulled on his boxers but was otherwise the same—his eyes following your every move, lingering briefly on the faint red crescent marks now visible on your ass. His gaze flickered up to meet yours, his expression unreadable.

Climbing back into bed, you settled yourself on his lap, straddling him as his hands instinctively found your hips. "Giyuu," you started softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty, "is this.. a one-time thing?"

His lips pressed into a slight frown, and his brows furrowed as he considered your words. For a moment, his eyes flickered with an emotion you couldn't quite name—Worry? Hope? Fear? "Do you want it to be?" he asked cautiously, his voice low and hesitant.

You shook your head, your voice steady but shy as you answered, "No."

His surprise deepened, blue eyes searching yours for confirmation. Nervously, you lowered your gaze to his chest, tracing aimless patterns with your fingertips. "I've liked you for a while, Giyuu," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He froze beneath you. "What?"

"Years," you confessed, forcing yourself to look up and meet his wide-eyed stare. "I've always known you weren't just a friend to me, but I didn't want to risk ruining what we had." You paused, swallowing hard. "But what we just did... friends don't do that."

His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came out. Instead, his hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your face up to his as he leaned in. The kiss was tender, a quiet answer to your unspoken fears.

He shifted, rolling you beneath him, lips trailing a path from your mouth to your jawline, and down the curve of your neck, stopping just above the collar of his t-shirt.

When his gaze met yours again, the genuine smile lighting up his face made your heart flutter. His fingers laced with yours, while your other hand rested on his back, tracing the faint lines of the scratches you'd left there.

"I don't want this to be a one-time thing either," he said softly, his voice carrying a rare but unmistakable confidence. "I want to be yours... and for you to be mine."

A grin spread across your face at his words, and you tugged him down for another kiss, your heart hammering.

"Mhm," you hummed against his lips, "I'm yours, Giyuu."

━

Giyuu frowned deeply when he woke up to an empty bed, the lingering warmth on your side already faded.

His mind spiraled instantly. Did you regret last night? He gnawed on his lower lip, his chest tightening at the thought.

Turning onto his back, he exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. A grim scenario played out in his head—you'd be in the living room, already packing your things, deciding that sleeping together had been a mistake, that living together wasn't a good idea after all.

Running a hand down his face, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thought away. He was about to roll over and bury himself back under the sheets when a loud thud echoed from the kitchen.

He bolted upright, hastily pulling on a pair of sweatpants before heading toward the noise.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he found you crouched on the kitchen floor, a conflicted expression on your face while you picked up a fallen pancake griddle.

Your eyes widened when you noticed him standing in the doorway, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Oh... good morning, Giyuu," you mumbled shyly, glancing away.

He surveyed the scene, spotting the stool you must've used to reach the high shelf. Realization dawned on him. "What are you doing?" he asked, tilting his head.

You sighed, placing the griddle on the counter, still avoiding his gaze. "I wanted to make us breakfast..." you murmured, your tone a bit sheepish.

Giyuu exhaled a quiet laugh, the corners of his lips lifting into a fond smile. "You don't have to do that. We both know you can't cook." He teased, walking towards you.

"Screw you." You scoffed, crossing your arms with a frown. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

"You already have," he said softly, stepping closer. He gently took your wrist, turning you toward him. "How about I take you out? To thank you for everything."

Your eyes met his, getting lost in the warmth of his azure gaze before they flicked downward, landing on the faint bruises blooming on his neck—bruises you had left.

"Fine," you relented, leaning in just a bit. "But I'm paying."

Giyuu chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his embrace. "Like hell you are," he whispered, his lips brushing your temple. "You've done enough." He motioned around the room, where last night's decorations still hung throughout the apartment.

You smiled, your arms sliding around his bare waist as you rested your head against his chest. "I guess I can let you handle our first date."

He smirked down at you, pretty blue eyes twinkling with adoration. "Good," he murmured, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

Support me on Wattpad if you enjoyed it! I write fics there @/ilovehistor1a