#and i HAVE taken people's chairs (after they left) to get away from light and/or noise. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sherewrytes · 2 months ago

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𝐻𝒜𝒰𝒩𝒯𝐸𝒟, 𝐸𝓇𝑒𝓃 𝓍 𝐹 𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

I knew possessive Eren was gonna win, so i wrote this fic anyway.

Prologue

Eren leaned back in his chair, his office dimly lit by the glow of his monitor. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights stretched like stars beneath a dark sky, far away and insignificant. His focus was anchored on his screen, where a familiar face smiled back at him from a photo posted over a year ago.

She looked different then—bright-eyed and carefree, dressed casually in a photo with friends, her smile wide and genuine. It wasn’t a polished, professional smile like the one she wore in the office now. This was something real, a glimpse into a version of herself she didn’t show anyone here.

He shouldn’t have kept scrolling back, shouldn’t have let himself get sucked in so deeply. But here he was, poring over every post like he was unraveling a story, piecing together the parts of her life that she’d left public, unaware of who might be watching. Eren liked the challenge of putting it all together—the places she went, the friends she kept, the life that existed beyond the walls of their firm. A life he wasn’t part of. Yet.

His finger hovered over the screen, caught in a lapse of control. Before he could pull back, his thumb brushed the screen, tapping “like” on the year-old post.

He cursed under his breath. She would see that. The thought made him pause, fingers itching to undo the mistake. But instead, he left it.

Let her see, he thought, leaning back and savoring the unease that would flash across her face when she noticed. She’d wonder, worry, maybe even try to brush it off, but the seed would be planted. She’d know that he was watching.

It was time she understood that she was more than an employee to him, more than just another person on his team. The moment she’d stepped into his world, she’d taken root, lodged deep in his mind. And he couldn’t pull her free—not that he wanted to.

His phone buzzed on the desk, pulling his gaze away from her image on the screen. A message notification lit up: a reminder of tomorrow’s 9 a.m. meeting, one he’d called specifically so he could see her, watch her from across the room, close enough to reach out but far enough to stay undetected.

When he finally pushed back from his desk, the clock on the wall blinked past midnight, the entire building silent except for the quiet hum of his footsteps as he walked out.

Y/N POV

The office buzzed with a quiet, controlled energy, the low hum of phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations merging into a backdrop of everyday corporate life. You settled into your seat, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension of another early morning. The building’s sleek, minimalist design, with its glass walls and polished floors, was both impressive and stifling. It was the kind of place that demanded excellence, and you planned to give it—nothing less.

It was barely 8:45 a.m., and your coffee was still too hot to sip comfortably. Jean, your colleague and occasional work confidant, leaned over your desk with his usual easy grin. He was one of the few people who made this office feel less like a pressure cooker. Tall, casually charming, with an air of confidence that bordered on playful, Jean had a knack for putting people at ease.

“So, did you see the email last night?” he asked, giving you a look that said he already knew the answer.

“Which one?” you replied, raising a brow, already scrolling through your work emails. Your inbox had exploded with new project updates and memos, mostly sent late at night. It was typical of Eren Yeager, your intense and demanding superior, to send out tasks and reminders well after business hours. The man practically lived in his office, a constant presence that seemed to watch over everyone in the department.

“You know which one,” Jean smirked, lowering his voice. “The meeting. 9 a.m., Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating himself presiding.”

“Oh, that.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Of course, I saw it. Just didn’t have the energy to respond at midnight like everyone else.”

Jean chuckled. “Guess you’ll have to turn on those notifications if you want to keep up with the boss’s schedule. He’s got eyes everywhere.”

You scoffed, waving him off. “I’ll pass. I already see enough of Eren in daylight hours.” You knew he wasn’t being entirely serious, but the idea of Eren’s influence lingering in your personal life struck a nerve you couldn’t quite place.

Settling into work mode, you reached for your phone to quickly open Instagram, stealing a few minutes to catch up on social media before the meeting. You rarely checked notifications right away—they were turned off for most apps during work hours and even out of work—but this morning, a little distraction felt necessary.

As the app loaded, you felt your stomach drop. There it was: a tiny heart notification in the corner of a photo from over a year ago. You recognized it instantly—an old post from a weekend trip with friends, long before you’d joined the company. And the name beside the heart? Eren Yeager.

You blinked, scrolling to confirm, a chill settling over you as you stared at the notification. There was no mistaking it. Your boss—the same man who rarely glanced up from his work, who gave off an air of rigid control and professionalism—had been scrolling through your posts in the middle of the night. Not just any post, either. A photo from a year ago, a carefree memory buried far down your timeline, one you’d forgotten about.

“What’s up?” Jean’s voice broke into your thoughts, his brows furrowing as he followed your gaze to the phone in your hand. He glanced over, a smile forming on his lips as he noted your wide-eyed expression. “Oh? Someone sliding into your DMs?”

You quickly flipped your phone screen down, shaking off the uncomfortable prickling feeling that lingered. “No, nothing like that. Just… weird notification, that’s all.”

Jean gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further. He was perceptive like that, often picking up on the things you left unsaid. You appreciated it more than you let on.

You tried to shake off the odd feeling and turned your attention back to your computer, but your mind kept drifting back to the notification. The way his name seemed to linger there, like a subtle, invasive reminder that he was watching, that he knew details of your life you’d never shared with anyone here.

Stop overthinking it, you told yourself. Maybe it was a mistake, an accidental like. But that didn’t explain why he’d been scrolling so far back. You rubbed your temples, trying to shake off the creeping feeling of unease.

9 A.M. Meeting

By the time you entered the conference room for the morning meeting, you’d managed to pull yourself together. Eren sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but commanding, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched each employee filter in and take their seats. His presence filled the room in a way that was hard to ignore, his gaze sharp, assessing, as if he were silently measuring the worth of everyone around him.

You slipped into your seat, feeling his eyes flicker over you for a brief moment. The memory of that notification resurfaced, making you hyper-aware of the way he seemed to watch you, a hint of something dark lurking beneath his otherwise composed exterior.

“All right, let’s begin,” Eren said, his voice a low, smooth cadence that carried authority effortlessly. His eyes scanned the room, resting on you for a moment longer than necessary before shifting to the agenda displayed on the screen. You kept your expression neutral, refusing to give him any indication that his subtle invasion of your privacy had affected you.

The meeting dragged on, a detailed breakdown of project deadlines, assignments, and expectations. You found yourself glancing up every now and then, catching Eren’s gaze lingering on you, an intensity there that made your skin prickle. He looked away each time, as if nothing had happened, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling that his interest wasn’t merely professional.

Toward the end of the meeting, he spoke up, addressing the room but directing his gaze toward Jean. “Jean, I’m moving you to the new department project starting next week. You’ll need to focus on that exclusively for the time being.”

Jean looked surprised, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Oh—sure, that’s fine, but I was under the impression I’d be working with [Your Name] on the current project until the end of the quarter.”

Eren’s expression remained neutral, his voice calm and authoritative. “Things have changed. I need you on something more pressing. [Your Name] can handle the rest of the project on her own.”

You stiffened, shooting Jean a quick look of apology, but he simply gave you a reassuring nod. You’d grown accustomed to working closely with him, and his sudden reassignment felt… calculated. Eren’s actions were swift, almost surgical, like a move in a chess game, rearranging the pieces to his advantage. It made your stomach twist, a realization settling in: he wasn’t just assigning work. He was orchestrating the details of your environment, manipulating who you interacted with, controlling who had access to you.

The meeting concluded shortly afterward, and you gathered your notes, trying to avoid Eren’s gaze. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“[Your Name], a moment?”

You froze, every nerve on edge. You glanced back, finding him standing at the head of the table, waiting for you as the rest of the team filed out. Jean shot you a supportive look before he left, mouthing a silent good luck as he exited.

You walked back to Eren, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries, his gaze fixed and unwavering.

“I wanted to discuss your progress on the project,” he said, his voice calm but holding an edge that set you on alert. “Are you prepared to handle it on your own?”

“Yes,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “I’ve been on top of it.”

“Good.” He nodded, his gaze drifting over you with an intensity that felt almost predatory. “I don’t want any distractions taking your focus away. Especially… social ones.”

The insinuation in his words was undeniable. You met his gaze, refusing to look away, even as the weight of his stare made you feel exposed. He was waiting for a reaction, testing you, pushing boundaries that should’ve stayed firmly in place.

“Understood,” you replied coolly, refusing to let him see that his words affected you. “Is there anything else?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, almost as if he were amused by your defiance. “No, that’s all… for now.”

As you left the conference room, you could feel his eyes on you, a dark promise lingering in his gaze. This was more than a mistake, more than a casual interest. You were part of something twisted now, something that felt like it was spiraling out of control. And somehow, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d claimed every part of you.

You walked back to your desk, heart racing, struggling to process the entire interaction. Eren’s stare, the way he’d pushed Jean out of the project, the invasive social media “like” that felt like a silent confession of his interest—it was all too much. You tried to shake it off, rationalizing his words as a reminder to stay focused, but a lingering unease settled in, something you couldn’t ignore.

Jean was waiting for you, leaning casually against your desk with an easy smile, though concern flickered in his eyes.

“Everything good?” he asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he watched you approach.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you replied, plastering on a smile as you settled in your chair. But your mind was elsewhere, still processing Eren’s intense gaze, the almost possessive tone he’d taken.

Jean didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “If you say so. Just say the word if you need backup. I know Yeager can be… a lot.”

You laughed lightly, though it was forced, glancing over your shoulder as you tried to shift gears and focus on your work. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of Eren watching, even though his door was closed. The memory of that year-old Instagram notification lingered, like an invisible mark he’d left on you.

Why would he scroll back that far? It was a question that had no easy answer, one that filled your mind with possibilities that sent a shiver down your spine.

Later That Evening

The workday wore on, but you couldn’t shake the weight of Eren’s presence from your mind. By the time you left the office, the sky was already dark, streetlights casting long shadows across the city. You walked quickly, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the train station, paranoid even though you knew it was irrational.

Arriving home, you set your things down, finally able to relax in the quiet comfort of your apartment. But as you changed into comfortable clothes and settled onto the couch, your phone buzzed with another notification. You glanced down, expecting a message from a friend or maybe Jean checking in—but the sight of Eren’s name on your screen made you freeze.

It was a message from his work account, the tone professional but terse.

Eren YeagerI need to see you in my office at 8 a.m. sharp tomorrow. Don’t be late.

The message was short, but it felt weighted, as if it held an unspoken promise of more. You stared at it, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure if you should respond. There was no polite sign-off, no explanation for the early morning meeting. It was an order, one that demanded obedience without question.

You locked your phone, deciding not to reply. The idea of being alone with him, especially so early in the morning when no one else would be around, sent a pulse of anxiety through you. But you had no choice. If you ignored his request, you’d risk his wrath—a risk you couldn’t afford in your current role.

Just get through tomorrow, you told yourself, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that settled over you.

The Next Morning

At 7:59 a.m., you found yourself standing outside Eren’s office door, heart pounding as you raised your hand to knock. The office was nearly deserted this early, the usual bustle absent in the dim, quiet corridors. You almost turned back, second-guessing yourself, but the door swung open before you could retreat.

“Come in,” Eren’s voice greeted you, smooth and calm.

You stepped inside, swallowing your nerves as you glanced around the room. His office was pristine, modern, and impersonal—just like him. The only hint of personality was the faint scent of expensive cologne that seemed to permeate the air, a reminder of how meticulously he controlled every aspect of his world.

He gestured for you to sit, watching you with a calm, unreadable expression as you took the chair across from his desk. You fought to keep your face neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you unnerved.

“I wanted to discuss your performance,” he began, his tone smooth but carrying a hint of something darker. “You’ve been doing well with the project, but I noticed that your focus has been… scattered lately.”

Your stomach tightened. Scattered? You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, caught between indignation and confusion. “I haven’t been distracted,” you replied, keeping your tone even.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he found your response amusing. “Haven’t you? Checking social media during work hours, lingering at your desk with Jean instead of focusing on your assignments… I’d call that distracted.”

You felt your face go hot, a mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling beneath your skin. He was referring to your harmless Instagram check yesterday, something you’d done quickly during a break. And as for Jean—well, you couldn’t control his friendliness. But the way Eren spoke, it was as if he’d taken note of every small action, every minor slip-up, and filed it away for moments like this.

“Is that really affecting my work?” you asked, keeping your voice calm even as your heart pounded in your chest. “I’ve met all the deadlines, and my reports have been on time.”

Eren leaned forward, his intense green eyes fixed on you, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “This isn’t just about deadlines, [Your Name]. It’s about your dedication, your priorities.”

You felt his words wrap around you like a trap, as if he were challenging you to admit something you didn’t fully understand. His gaze was heavy, penetrating, and you realized with a sudden, unsettling clarity that he wasn’t talking about work at all.

His next words confirmed it.

“People get distracted,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he observed you. “They forget who’s really in charge. And they let others”—his eyes flashed with something dark—“interfere.”

The implication was clear. Eren wasn’t just monitoring your work; he was watching every interaction, every minor connection you made in the office. He wanted your attention, all of it, and he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules to make that happen.

A surge of defiance rose in you, a determination not to be cowed by his intimidation tactics. “With all due respect, Mr. Yeager, I think I’m managing just fine. My work speaks for itself.”

He leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he observed you, almost as if he were savoring the challenge. “If that’s how you feel,” he replied smoothly, “then I expect nothing less than your full focus moving forward. No distractions. No side conversations with… co-workers.”

Your stomach twisted. You could practically feel the weight of his control bearing down on you, subtle but suffocating. Eren’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he finally leaned back, dismissing you with a nod.

“That’s all for now. But I’ll be watching, [Your Name]. Make sure you don’t disappoint me.”

You stood, your legs stiff as you resisted the urge to throw a sharp retort back at him. Instead, you turned and walked to the door, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

But as you reached for the handle, he called out softly, “And remember… if you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.”

You didn’t look back, didn’t dare acknowledge the unspoken meaning behind his words. But as you walked away, a shiver ran down your spine, the realization sinking in: Eren was watching, his presence an invisible shadow that lingered over every corner of your life.

And deep down, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop.

Chapter 2: Eren's POV

I watch her leave my office, her back straight, the calm facade she wears never quite matching the storm I know brews beneath the surface. She's good at hiding it. Too good. But I see through her. I always do.

I could’ve pushed harder, pressed her more. I could’ve let the tension between us grow, let her feel it, but I know the rules. I know how to play this game. I’m patient. I’ve been watching her for months now—studying every shift in her expression, every flicker of emotion that betrays her cool demeanor. She thinks I’m just another boss, another man she has to deal with to keep her job. She doesn’t see what I see.

She doesn’t understand that I own her. Not in a way she’d ever admit. Not yet. But it’s coming.

I’ve been in control of my life for so long, meticulously crafting every move, every interaction. But the moment I saw her, I knew I was losing that control.

That first day when she walked into the office, all poised and professional in her perfectly pressed blouse and skirt, looking completely out of place among the chaos of this company... I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She stood out, a beacon of grace in a sea of mundane. It wasn’t just her looks—though she’s breathtaking. It’s her aura, the way she moves, the way people gravitate to her without even trying. But what I couldn’t handle was how easily she laughed, how easily she made friends with everyone. Even Jean, that fucking rat. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any of them near her.

I hate the way she smiles at him. That warmth. I watch her in those moments, just a little too long. Jean doesn’t realize it, but every second she spends with him is a second closer to me losing my patience.

Her kindness? Her ability to make everyone feel like they’re worth something? It makes me sick. It makes me want to pull her closer, force her to realize that her place is with me, not with the rest of them. They don’t deserve her. No one does. Not like I do.

I’ve done everything I can to keep her focused on her work, keep her away from distractions. Jean? He’s been moved to another department. He’ll think it’s just for business reasons. He’ll never know the truth. I won’t let him have her. No one will.

I’d love to see how she reacts. I want to see her frustration when she can’t find that friendly face to laugh with during breaks, when Jean isn’t there to chat with her like some old friend. She doesn’t realize yet, but every little thing I do is part of the plan.

I’ve been following her on social media for a while now. It's not like I’m obsessed. No, it's just... research. I need to know what she’s doing, who she’s talking to, what interests her. I saw that post she shared from over a year ago. That’s when I liked it. A simple gesture, but I know she saw it. The notification. It was a crack in the door, a way to remind her that I see her, that I’m watching, even when she doesn’t realize it. She may act like she doesn’t care, like she’s unaffected, but I know the truth.

She noticed. I could see the way her fingers hesitated over the screen when she opened it, the way her eyes darted to the notification, the subtle way her lips pressed together, a sign of frustration or confusion. Good. She’s thinking about me now. I like that. I like knowing she’s aware of my presence, even when I’m not in the room.

And I’ll keep doing it. I’ll keep moving those pieces, reshaping the world around her until there’s nowhere left for her to go except into my arms.

She doesn’t realize how much she needs me yet. She doesn’t understand what I could give her, what I could offer, the security, the control. The way I’d take care of her—physically, mentally, emotionally. She would never have to worry about anything. She’d be mine. And I’d make sure she knew it.

But patience, I tell myself. One step at a time. For now, I’ll keep my distance, make sure she doesn’t feel smothered. I’ll play the game, act like everything is normal. But every conversation, every interaction, is a calculated move, a reminder to her that I’m always in her periphery. I don’t need to rush this.

I’ll keep her on her toes. I’ll keep her questioning herself. And in time, she’ll realize that the only person who truly knows her, who truly understands her, is me.

I can already feel it.

She’s mine.

For the past few weeks, I’ve found myself more drawn to her than I care to admit. Some might say I’m obsessive, that I’ve crossed a line in watching her every move. But they don’t understand. I’m not obsessed—I’m simply possessive of what’s mine. And she is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I've kept my distance, careful not to scare her off, keeping up the mask of the professional, distant manager. But the more I watch her, the harder it becomes. I see her subtle shifts in expression, the way her shoulders tense whenever I enter a room, as if she can feel me. She can feel that magnetic pull too. She must.

Today, she finally came to me, probably driven by the carefully crafted breadcrumbs I’d left for her. I could see the determination on her face as she knocked and entered my office, closing the door behind her. She’s nervous—trying not to show it, but I can see the tension in her stance. She’s bracing herself, as if she’s come to confront me.

“Mr. Yeager,” she begins, her voice steady. “Can I ask you something?”

I lean back in my chair, giving her my full attention, my expression carefully neutral. “Of course,” I say smoothly, as if she has my undivided focus—which she does.

She clears her throat, looking down briefly before meeting my gaze again. “I… noticed something strange recently.” She hesitates, watching me closely, as if gauging my reaction. “You… liked an old photo on my Instagram. From over a year ago.”

There it is. The spark of curiosity, maybe even a little irritation, hidden beneath her calm facade. She’s trying to find a reason, some logical explanation, but she won’t find it.

I keep my expression mild, letting a small, almost dismissive smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Oh? I didn’t realize. Must’ve been a slip of the finger,” I say lightly, shrugging as if it’s nothing. “I probably just scrolled too far.”

She narrows her eyes slightly, as if trying to see through my answer, to find the truth lurking beneath my calm mask. But I won’t give her that satisfaction. I keep my smile relaxed, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, she speaks again, her voice softer, more hesitant.

“I see.” She shifts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, it just… seemed strange. I mean, it was a really old photo.”

I tilt my head, giving her a curious look. “Are you worried about what I think of your social media, [Your Name]?” I ask, my tone just slightly teasing, enough to throw her off balance. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The color rises in her cheeks, a sign that I’ve hit a nerve. I can see her frustration simmering beneath the surface. She probably didn’t expect me to brush it off so easily, to play it so nonchalantly.

“Anyway,” I say, shifting the topic before she can dwell on it too long, “are you seeing anyone?”

She blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Just curious,” I reply, keeping my tone casual. “You seem close with some of the others here… I was wondering if you were dating anyone.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but… no.”

I already knew the answer. She’s kept to herself, no messy entanglements to interfere with the focus I want from her. I nod slowly, keeping my expression thoughtful, as if I’m filing away that precious piece of information.

“Well,” I say after a beat, looking back at her with a calm smile, “that’s good to know. Less distraction, right?”

Her eyes flash, a quick hint of irritation before she masks it, and I almost laugh. I wonder if she realizes what her reaction betrays, how her every movement, every flicker of emotion, only draws me closer.

She’s mine. Even if she doesn’t know it yet. And one way or another, she’ll come to understand just how deep that connection goes.

For now, I’ll give her space, let her think this was just a fleeting moment. But in time, she’ll see. She’ll see that every step she takes, every decision she makes, is already part of my plan. And when she finally realizes it, she’ll understand that she’s exactly where she belongs—by my side, where I can watch over her, where I can protect her.

And no one—not Jean, not anyone—will ever get close enough to take her from me.

Y/N's POV

I head back to my desk, still trying to shake off the strange feeling lingering from my conversation with Eren. The way he brushed off that whole Instagram thing… it didn’t sit right with me. And then he asked if I was dating anyone? Out of nowhere?

I sit down, take a deep breath, and open my phone, deciding to vent in my group chat. Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah have been my rocks for as long as I can remember, and they always know how to put things in perspective.

Group Chat:

yn: Eren just asked me if I’m dating anyone…

kaylah: Your boss? 👀

kasa: Oh gurl, he tryna fuck 😏

annie: That’s her boss. 😑

kasa: And?? 👀 He’s still tryna get it.

kaylah: It’s not just “any boss,” though. It’s Eren. You’ve been saying he’s been acting weird for weeks, girl.

kasa: Exactly. That man is on some type of mission, and it sounds like it involves you.

annie: Are you comfortable with him asking questions like that?

I chew on my lip, reading through their messages. They all have a point. Eren has been acting strange, hovering a bit too close sometimes, watching me like he’s waiting for something. But Annie’s right, too. It’s not exactly normal for a boss to act this way, is it?

I hesitate for a second, wondering how much to say. Then I type back.

yn: Honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it. He’s always so… intense. But maybe it’s just me overthinking?

kaylah: Girl, that’s not “intense”; that’s creepy. 👀 Bosses don’t just stalk their employees’ social media.

annie: Exactly. And liking a photo from last year? There’s something else going on here.

kasa: Sounds like he’s trying to mark his territory. 😳 Bet he’s trying to make sure no one else thinks you’re single.

I let their words sink in, and suddenly, it’s like I’m seeing my interactions with Eren from a different angle. That “slip of the finger” excuse sounds a lot thinner now. And asking if I’m seeing anyone? Was that a simple question, or was he trying to figure out if he has any competition?

The back of my neck prickles.

I sigh, typing out the next message, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing my girls will understand. There’s more to this situation, and I need their take.

yn: Oh, and there’s something else… He moved Jean to a different department. Just… out of the blue. He said it was for a “long-term project” or something like that, but now Jean’s basically out of my life at work for the foreseeable future.

kaylah: Wait, what?! Isn’t Jean like… your work husband?

annie: Your “project”? Yeah, right. Who’s he trying to fool? 😒

kasa: Soooo he removes the guy you’re closest to, then asks if you’re single? That man’s trying to clear the field. 👀

kaylah: Sounds like he’s… territorial. He probably hated the idea of you and Jean hanging out all day.

yn: It just feels so over-the-top. Jean didn’t even get a say; one day he’s there, and then Eren just pulls him into his office, and boom, he’s off on some new assignment.

annie: If this isn’t a huge red flag, I don’t know what is.

kasa: Honestly, girl, I’d be careful. This man doesn’t sound like he knows how to handle boundaries. 😬

I lean back in my chair, their messages washing over me, making my skin prickle. I keep telling myself that maybe I’m imagining things, that he’s just an intense boss, but each detail lines up too neatly. Jean was always the one person I could talk to freely, the only guy in the office who made me feel safe—and now he’s gone.

My stomach twists as I hear Eren’s voice, sharp and commanding, slicing through the quiet of the office.

“[Your Name]!” His voice has an edge to it, and I jump, startled. When I glance over my shoulder, he’s standing right behind me, eyes dark and fixed on my phone screen. I can feel the tension radiating off him, and the realization slams into me—he saw everything.

“...My office. Now,” he says, each word clipped, his tone leaving no room for argument. My heart pounds as I quickly turn off my phone, shooting one last frantic message to the group.

yn: I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone—

I barely finish the sentence before shoving the phone back onto my desk. The vibration of new messages is already buzzing like crazy as I walk toward his office, each step slower than the last.

The entire office feels like it’s holding its breath, and I can sense my coworkers glancing my way, probably just as curious about what I did to earn Eren’s wrath. I swallow hard, focusing on keeping my expression neutral as I make my way to his office, heart pounding louder with every step.

As soon as I step through the door, Eren closes it firmly behind me, and the air in the room feels heavier. The calm facade he usually wears is gone, replaced by something sharper, something that borders on fury.

"Care to explain what’s so important on your phone, [Your Name]?”

“Mr. Yeager, with all due respect,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady, “my phone is my personal business.”

His expression hardens, his jaw clenching as he takes a step closer. “So discussing me is your personal business then?” he bites back, his voice low and challenging.

Without thinking, I snap back. “If you’re all up in it, then yes.”

The words are out before I can stop myself, and I’m immediately shocked that I actually said it. My heart slams against my ribs, and the tension between us is thick enough to cut with a knife. I should apologize, I know it, but something about the way he’s staring at me—like he’s both furious and intrigued—has me rooted to the spot.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing. “Funny. Because I don’t recall giving you permission to turn me into office gossip.”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Well, maybe if you didn’t act like everyone here’s a pawn in some twisted game, we wouldn’t have anything to talk about.”

His lips curve into a cold smile. “Oh, so you think this is a game, huh?” His voice is dangerously low, and he’s close enough now that I can feel his presence looming over me, his eyes piercing into mine. “Trust me, [Your Name], I don’t play games.”

My pulse quickens as he steps closer still, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from him. My instincts scream at me to back down, to apologize, but something inside me flares up instead, matching his intensity. I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to be the first to look away.

“If you’re so sure of that,” I say, my voice just as quiet, “then why are you so interested in what I’m doing on my phone? Seems pretty ‘game-like’ to me.”

For a moment, his face shifts, and I catch a flicker of something almost raw in his eyes—something possessive, unsettlingly intense. But then it’s gone, replaced by that cold, unreadable mask he always wears.

“Careful,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, though there’s a warning underneath it. “You don’t want to push me, [Your Name].”

“Or what?” I challenge, my heart racing, the words slipping out before I can stop myself.

Before I can process what’s happening, I feel his lips on mine, fierce and unyielding. The kiss is forceful, intense, sending a shock through my system. It’s soft, yet possessive, hot and somehow tender all at once—a confusing mix that leaves me breathless. I barely have time to react, my hands frozen at my sides, as if caught in a whirlwind of everything I should and shouldn’t feel.

Then, just as abruptly, he pulls back, his face hovering inches from mine, his gaze steady and dark as he studies me. He doesn’t look smug, nor does he look regretful. There’s something raw in his expression, something he’s barely containing.

“I love your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice rough but oddly soft. “They’re so brown and beautiful… just like I thought they’d be up close.”

I blink, still reeling, the intensity of his words sinking into my skin like embers, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. I open my mouth to respond, to say something that might make sense of the mess of feelings swirling inside me, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare up at him, my mind racing with confusion, with anger, with something I can’t even name.

His hand lingers on my arm, and the weight of his touch is both grounding and electrifying. He’s close enough that I can see every shade of green in his eyes, every fleck of something darker that burns there, a kind of need that’s both alarming and magnetic.

“[Your Name]…” he says, voice barely above a whisper, as though my name is a secret he’s been keeping.

Eren’s voice is a low murmur, almost daring me as he leans in just a fraction closer.

“Ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His gaze holds mine, and the challenge in his eyes makes my breath hitch. He’s waiting, watching for some sign that I’ll back down—but instead, my pulse races with a new determination, my words tumbling out before I can second-guess them.

“Why did you really move Jean?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. “Was it because of… me?”

A flicker of satisfaction crosses his face, like he’s pleased I finally asked the question that’s been burning inside me. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink as he responds.

“Jean was… a distraction,” he says, his voice low, each word deliberate. “You don’t need him taking up your time.”

My stomach flips, caught between disbelief and a strange, unnerving thrill at his bluntness. “So you’re saying you—moved him just to have me all to yourself?”

Eren’s mouth twitches in the faintest of smirks. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he says, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. He brushes his thumb over the back of my hand, a gesture that’s both tender and unsettling. “And whether you know it or not, you’re mine, [Your Name].”

The air thickens between us, charged with tension and something darker that I don’t dare name.

“Yours?” I say, my voice wavering between disbelief and defiance. “You don’t even know me, Eren.”

A glint of amusement flashes in his eyes, but there’s something else there, something darker and more intense as he steps even closer. His gaze traces my face, studying me like he’s memorizing every detail.

“Don’t know you?” he murmurs, a faint smirk curving his lips. “I know you better than you think, [Your Name].”

My heart skips a beat as he begins listing things—little details I hadn’t even realized he’d noticed.

“You prefer coffee black on Mondays but switch to a caramel macchiato on Fridays. Your favorite color is emerald green. You call out sick on the third Thursday of every month to go to your hairdresser and then your lash girl.” His smirk deepens, his voice softening, almost proud. “Which is why I always approve your requests for those particular days off and pay you for the extra time. I figured I’d make it easier for you, since I know you’d never ask.”

I stare at him, speechless. It’s unsettling—no, terrifying—how much he knows. I’d thought it was a coincidence, a stroke of luck, that my days off lined up perfectly with my appointments. Now I’m realizing it was anything but. He orchestrated all of it. Eren didn’t just notice these things—he’s been planning around them, bending my schedule to fit into the life he believes he controls.

“You… you really did all that?” I whisper, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

“Of course I did,” he replies, his tone calm, as if this all makes perfect sense. “I told you, [Your Name]. I don’t like sharing. And I don’t like the idea of you needing anyone else but me.”

The possessive gleam in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

Eren’s gaze never leaves mine as he continues, his tone low and smooth, yet laced with a quiet intensity that unsettles me.

“You think I don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re nervous? Or how you twist your pen when you’re lost in thought?” His eyes roam over my face, lingering on my lips before meeting my gaze again. “I notice everything, [Your Name]. Every single thing about you. It’s only fair, given how much of my time you take up.”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. Eren’s gaze is so intense, it’s as if he can see right through me, through every facade I’ve ever put up. He steps forward, closing the last of the distance between us until he’s just inches away, and I can feel the warmth of him, the weight of his attention, like gravity pulling me in.

“You can deny it all you want,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, “but deep down, you’ve always known. You felt it, too. This connection.”

My heart races as his words sink in, leaving me both shocked and disarmed. Part of me wants to deny it, to push him away, but another part, the part that feels his touch lingering long after he’s gone, knows there’s some twisted truth in his words. Eren’s confidence, his calculated planning, his unwavering focus—it’s both overwhelming and alluring, a dangerous thrill I can’t seem to shake.

He tilts his head, his voice dropping even lower. “You keep looking at me like I’m the one crossing the line, but maybe you should ask yourself why you keep letting me.”

Eren’s eyes narrow, his voice a quiet, unyielding demand. “Now, ask me what you really want to ask me.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. There’s an invitation in his tone, a challenge in his stare that dares me to voice the questions that have haunted me since he first stepped into my life. My heart pounds, and I feel my pulse throb as I stare up at him, trying to decide if I should say the words out loud.

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper as I finally ask, “Why… why me, Eren? Why do you go out of your way to control every part of my life?”

A slow smile spreads across his face, but there’s no warmth in it. Just a chilling certainty, as if he’s been waiting for me to ask this all along.

“Because, [Your Name],” he says, his voice dripping with that familiar possessiveness, “the second I saw you, I knew I’d never want anyone else.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. “And I don’t like the idea of anything or anyone else having you, even in the smallest way. Every detail of your life is mine to know, mine to control. Because whether you realize it or not, you’re already mine.”

The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, and I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, a part of me terrified of him, yet drawn to the way he looks at me with that all-consuming need.

“So don’t fight it,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my cheek, lingering for a moment. “Just accept it.”

“This is too much,” I say, my voice shaking as I try to pull away, desperate to put space between us. My hands move instinctively to push against his chest, but before I can make any real distance, Eren’s grip tightens around my wrist, pulling me back toward him with surprising force.

I stumble, barely catching myself as I’m drawn back into his presence, and before I can even react, his hand grazes the side of my jaw, his fingers cool against the heated skin of my cheek. The sensation is dizzying, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. He holds me there for a moment, just enough for his thumb to trace the curve of my jawline, sending a chill down my spine.

Then, without a word, he grips the back of my neck, his touch possessive and commanding as he yanks me closer to him. My breath catches in my throat, and I find myself trapped between the heat of his body and the pressure of his touch, unable to escape even if I wanted to.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he murmurs, his voice low, controlled, but with an undercurrent of something darker. “You can tell me no now, or you can let it happen.”

My heart slams in my chest as I feel the heat of his breath on my lips, the tension so thick that it almost feels suffocating. A part of me wants to pull away, to run from the intensity of this moment, but another part—one that scares me—wants to stay, to see where this overwhelming pull will lead.

Eren’s eyes lock onto mine, dark and unwavering, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. His grip on my neck tightens just enough to remind me that I’m in his control, that I have no escape if he doesn’t want me to have one.

“What’s it going to be, [Your Name]?” he whispers, the question more of a command than an invitation.

"Eren… I—" I start, but before I can even finish the sentence, he cuts me off, his words sharp and commanding.

"Wrong answer."

His lips crash onto mine, and the force of it takes my breath away. His kiss is demanding, fierce, as if he’s claiming me in a way I can’t escape. It’s overwhelming, and my body betrays me, sinking into the kiss, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, grasping at him for balance. I can feel the heat rising between us, every inch of him pressing against me in a way that makes my heart race and my mind spin.

I can’t think, can’t form coherent thoughts, because all I can feel is the overwhelming pressure of him, his touch, the way his mouth moves against mine like he’s determined to break through every wall I’ve ever built.

And then, without warning, I feel him bite down on my bottom lip, pulling it gently with a smirk that tells me he’s enjoying this—enjoying the control, the way I’m losing myself to him.

The sensation stings, and I gasp, but he doesn’t give me a chance to react. His lips return to mine, more insistent, deeper, as if he’s trying to mark me, to claim me, until I’m not sure where I begin and where he ends. His hands slide to my waist, gripping me tightly as if he’s worried I might slip away, as if he’s afraid that one kiss won’t be enough.

It isn’t enough. It never will be. I feel myself craving more, my body pulling him closer, as if I’ve been waiting for this, for him, all along.

The realization hits me like a wave, and I almost want to pull back, to snap myself out of the haze he’s wrapped me in. But instead, I stay, letting myself sink further into the kiss, into him.

Eren pulls back slightly, his breath heavy against my lips. His eyes search mine, dark and intense, filled with something I can’t quite place.

“I told you, [Your Name],” he whispers, his voice low and almost satisfied, “you’re mine.”

As I make my way back to my desk, my mind is still spinning, heart racing with the lingering heat of Eren’s kiss. My body feels like it’s moving on autopilot as I sit down, glancing at my phone. I open the group chat with Mikasa, Annie, and Kaylah, my thumb hovering over the screen as I prepare to update them. The last message I sent was, I think he saw everything. He just caught me on my phone.

The messages from my friends are already waiting for me:

Kaylah: Girl, what the hell? He saw EVERYTHING?

Mikasa: Oh no, not this again. What’s going on?

Annie: No way. You need to be careful, Y/N. I’m not liking this.

I quickly type out my reply, still feeling the weight of Eren’s presence hanging over me, almost like he’s watching me through the screen.

Y/N: He pulled me into his office. I… I didn’t expect it, but he kissed me. Forcefully. He told me I’m "his" and that I should stop pretending I don’t know it. Then he made me come back to my desk to tell you all this.

I feel a rush of emotions as I hit send. Part of me wants to keep this to myself, to pretend it didn’t happen, but I know they deserve to know what’s going on, especially since it’s clear Eren’s intentions go far beyond just the office.

The chat explodes almost immediately:

Kaylah: Bitch, WHAT?! You just got kissed by your boss?? Omg, no, this is insane.

Mikasa: He pulled you into his office? Girl, this is so messy. You gotta be careful. This feels like a power move.

Annie: He’s crossing boundaries. I don’t care how much "power" he has—this isn’t okay. You need to set some limits, Y/N.

I feel a mix of emotions—fear, confusion, and something else I don’t want to acknowledge. I glance at the time, realizing I’ve been gone for longer than expected. Eren’s words echo in my mind, “You’re dismissed now.” The finality in his voice leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to handle this. I just feel… stuck.

Before I can read the responses, I hear Eren’s voice in the distance, calling out to someone else in the office. The sound of his voice makes my pulse spike again. His control over everything is suffocating, and I don’t know what to do next.

The messages from my friends continue, but my mind is already elsewhere, replaying every moment in his office, trying to make sense of everything he said and did.

Kaylah: Babe, you need to lay down some ground rules.

Mikasa: He’s not going to stop unless you make him.

Annie: You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. Don’t let him manipulate you.

I stare at my phone, still in a daze from the events of the day. My fingers hover over the screen as I type my response, unsure of what I’m feeling.

Y/N: What if… what if I liked it? Well… shit. I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I should just move departments.

Before I can think it through any further, my phone buzzes again. I see a new notification from the group chat—Mikasa’s added two new members. I blink at the names: Onyankopon and Armin.

Onyankopon: Kasa, you add me to the wrong group or sum?

Armin: Why we in your girl group?

Mikasa: Y’all now know Eren. He’s acting crazy.

I let out a frustrated sigh, rolling my eyes as I quickly type the rundown of what happened in the office. It feels so surreal, like I’m recounting someone else’s life. But it’s mine, and it’s hard to ignore how Eren’s presence looms over me, even through the screen.

Y/N: Okay, here it is. Eren pulled me into his office, kissed me, told me I was “his,” and that I should stop pretending like I don’t know it. He’s acting all possessive and… weird. I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe I should just switch departments or something.

I hit send and brace myself for whatever they’ll say. It doesn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Armin: eye roll emoji* Is this Y/N LN, or am I missing something?*

I read the message twice before I realize he’s talking about me. It’s not a surprise, but it hits a little differently now, seeing it written out like that.

Then, Armin sends a series of screenshots. I glance over them, and my stomach drops.

Armin’s screenshot: Eren: "Bro, I kissed her. I swear, I went too far. I’ve been watching her since she started working here. I think I’m losing it."

I stare at the words for a long moment, my breath catching in my throat. I’d been so caught up in my own confusion that I hadn’t even realized how much Eren had been planning, how deep his obsession with me went. And the fact that Armin had these messages, these private thoughts of Eren’s, just adds another layer of unease.

Onyankopon: LMAO, Mikasa. So this is Y/N LN? Oh shit, this is funny as fuck.

I feel a sinking feeling in my chest as I read his message. It’s like everyone can see it, but me—how out of control Eren is. I can’t stop myself from feeling… exposed.

Onyankopon: Armin, we gotta tell Connie about this. This is crazy.

I feel my stomach twist at their reactions, the way they laugh it off as if it’s some kind of joke. But it isn’t a joke. It’s my life, and I’m caught in the middle of this twisted game Eren’s playing.

Y/N: This isn’t funny, guys. Eren’s fucking with my head. He’s crossing lines I never thought he would.

But even as I send the message, a small part of me wonders if I’m being too dramatic. If maybe I do like the attention. It’s hard to tell, especially with all the confusion in my head. Maybe I’m overthinking it.

Mikasa: You’re not overreacting. This isn’t normal. But I don’t think moving departments is the answer. Eren’s not just going to let you go that easily.

I stare at Mikasa’s response, my thumb hovering over the screen. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Armin: I’ll talk to him. Eren isn’t... okay, let me not lie... anyway, Ony, if you’re free, we gonna have to go pay Eren a visit at work.

As I read Armin’s message, a strange feeling begins to twist inside me. The fact that he’s offering to talk to Eren is both comforting and terrifying. I can’t deny that I feel a little bit of relief knowing that someone might stand up for me, but it also doesn’t sit right with me that Eren needs a “talking to” in the first place.

can’t help but shake my head, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips. I’m not sure what’s scarier—the fact that Armin’s taking it so lightly or that I feel like I’m somehow becoming the center of their attention. It’s one thing for Eren to be possessive, but now it seems like everyone is getting involved.

Onyankopon: IDK, y’all want me in white folk business?

My eyes widen as I read Ony’s message, unsure if I should laugh or be annoyed. He’s right, though—it’s pretty ridiculous. But before I can say anything, Kaylah’s message pops up in the chat, and it’s clear she’s already found the humor in the situation.

Kaylah: LMAO! Y/N ain’t white, bro.

Ony’s response comes so quickly, I can almost hear the sarcasm in his voice. I laugh a little despite myself, because it’s true—Eren’s behavior does feel a little… out of place. Like he doesn’t know how to handle someone like me.

Onyankopon: I know, that’s why Eren tweaking. He ain’t ever locked a baddie before. Lame-ass white boy.

The chat explodes with laughter, and I can’t help but chuckle as well, even though I’m still dealing with the weight of everything that just happened. Ony’s comment, as ridiculous as it is, actually makes me feel a little better. The absurdity of the whole situation is almost laughable.

Mikasa: Y’all wild, but for real, Y/N, you need to stay strong. Don’t let this get to you.

Kaylah: For real, don’t let his crazy ass try to claim you. That’s your work life, and you need to protect that shit.

I read their messages, my mind swirling. Their support means everything, but I still don’t know what to do. The fact that Armin’s going to “talk to” Eren doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t just sit around and wait for him to fix things. Eren’s power is too much, too overwhelming.

Y/N: I don’t even know how to fix this. I feel trapped, like he’s watching me all the time now. Everything’s so messed up.

I leave the message on read for a while, my thoughts drifting back to Eren. To his kiss. To the way he said I was “his.” It’s a bitter reminder that maybe things have gone too far already.

at the same time

Eren’s hands are shaking as he types into his own group chat, his mind racing from everything that happened earlier. He can’t get her out of his head—Y/N, with her eyes so full of confusion, and the way she didn’t pull away from him when he kissed her, even though she probably should’ve.

Eren: Guys, I fucked up.

He watches the messages pop up one by one, his anxiety bubbling with every new response.

Armin: Jail time or a murder case?

Connie: Please tell me this ain’t about who I think it is.

Ony: Sure this is about Y/N again, bro? She ain’t want your white ass.

Reiner: Eren, what did you do... this time?

He slams his fist against the table, frustrated. He doesn’t have the words to explain it, but his thoughts keep racing back to her—her soft lips, the way she melted into him for just a moment before reality hit. He didn’t want to go that far, but when he kissed her, everything felt... right. It felt like it had to happen, like he needed her.

Eren: It’s Y/N. I kissed her. And I know, I know I fucked up, but it was just... it was too much. She doesn’t get it, man. She doesn’t see me the way I see her.

Armin: Oh boy, here we go. What exactly do you mean by ‘too much’?

Connie: Bro, what the hell are you doing? Did you force her?

Ony: I told you, man. She’s not your typical type. You can’t just make her fall in line like you want. She don’t need your controlling ass. You’re out here acting like you own her.

Eren clenches his jaw, his fingers gripping the edge of the table until it creaks.

Eren: I didn’t force her. But damn it, I don’t know... it’s like she’s got something in her that draws me in. She’s the only one who makes me feel like I’m more than this job, this life. She makes me want things I’ve never wanted before. And now she’s got me thinking, shit, I don’t know if I can stop. I’m not letting anyone else get close to her.

Reiner: That’s some dangerous shit, Eren. You’re letting your emotions run wild, and you’re gonna fuck up your entire career over her.

Armin: Man, you already fucked up. But at least you’re being honest about it now. You know you can’t keep this up. You need to step back before you lose it all.

Connie: I swear to God, Eren, if you don’t pull yourself together, you’re gonna make it worse. You need to stop acting like she’s yours. She doesn’t owe you anything.

Eren feels the weight of their words, but they don’t hit him the way they should. He knows what he’s doing is dangerous, but he can’t help the way he feels. Y/N’s on his mind every second of the day, and he’s not ready to just walk away.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t. She doesn’t get it yet, but she will. She’s mine, and I’m not letting anyone else near her.

Ony: Bro, you’re wilding. She’s not some fucking trophy to claim. If you keep this up, she’ll be gone faster than you can blink.

Reiner: Eren... you gotta rethink this. You’re walking a thin line.

Eren sits back in his chair, his chest tight as the words sink in. But even with everything they say, there’s only one thing on his mind—Y/N. No one else. And no matter how messed up it is, he’s not ready to let go.

Eren: I’m not letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

Ony: Well, Armin, good thing you're a lawyer. You gonna have to plead his case when Y/N drops charges on him.

Eren’s eyes widen at the thought, panic creeping up his spine. His fingers hover over his phone, unable to stop the flood of thoughts racing through his mind.

Eren: Fuck! Will she do something like that?

Ony: LMAO, bro, look at yourself. One whiff of cocoa butter and you're acting mad.

Reiner: Bro, you really out here trippin' over some lotion?

Eren's face flushes with frustration. He’s not even thinking about the damn lotion. It’s about her. He can’t stop thinking about how soft she felt against him, how her skin smelled, how her lips tasted.

Eren: It's actually shea butter and lavender, not cocoa butter.

The group goes silent for a moment, and then the floodgates open.

Ony: Bro, WTF?

Armin: Wait, what? You’re obsessed with her scent now?

Reiner: Eren, you out here getting fetishy with lotions?

Eren growls under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to stay composed. But every word they type is making the pit in his stomach grow deeper. He wanted this—her—so badly, but now he’s in too deep, and they’re all calling him out for it.

Eren: I smelled it when I kissed her. Man, da fuck?

The silence in the chat is almost unbearable before it’s broken by a series of laughing emojis.

Ony: Bro, you a different type of crazy. I can’t even deal with this. You out here stalking this girl’s scent like you’re some kind of detective.

Armin: Yo, you need a therapist. This is borderline obsession.

Reiner: Damn, man. You really need to chill. She ain’t even looking at you like that.

Eren’s chest tightens at their words. He knows what they’re saying is true. He’s spiraling. He’s obsessed. But the way Y/N made him feel when she was close to him… that—he can’t shake that feeling. He wants her. Needs her. And he can’t let anyone take her from him.

Eren: She’s mine. I’m telling you, I won’t let anyone near her.

The group’s response is quick and harsh.

Ony: Bruh. You really need to stop.

Armin: If you don’t back off, you’re gonna ruin everything, Eren. You gotta calm down.

Reiner: You’re gonna scare her off if you keep acting like this. Just back off a little.

But Eren just stares at the screen, his finger hovering over the keyboard. He wants to prove them wrong, to show them that he can handle this. But deep down, he knows they’re right. His obsession with Y/N is unhealthy.

He types one last message.

Eren: I can’t stop. I won’t stop. She’s mine.

Armin: Bro, you're scaring her.

Eren’s chest tightens, the words hitting harder than he expected. He’s not sure how to react, his thoughts a mess of frustration and possessiveness.

Eren: How the fuck do you know?

Ony: Cause Mikasa added me and Armin to their group chat.

The weight of Ony’s words doesn’t quite hit him at first. The realization that Mikasa and the others are talking about him—about this—makes his stomach turn. His grip on his phone tightens, and he types with clenched fists.

Connie: Damn and I ain't get no invite lol.

Reiner: Connie, focus.

Eren doesn’t respond to Connie, but his mind races. If they’re talking about him in her group chat, if Mikasa and the others know what’s going on… that means Y/N knows too. And that thought alone sends a chill through him.

He wants to control everything, to make sure Y/N never slips out of his grasp, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes just how dangerous this is. His thoughts swirl between possessiveness, fear, and that nagging sense of guilt that won’t go away.

Eren: It’s not like that. I didn’t mean to scare her. I just… I just can’t stand the thought of anyone else having her.

Armin: Bro, you're not thinking straight. You need to give her space. You can’t keep acting like this.

Ony: If you really want her, you’re gonna have to play it cool. She’s not gonna stick around if you keep acting crazy.

Connie: Yeah, bro. I get it. She’s fine, she’s beautiful, but you gotta chill out before you push her away.

Eren stares at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s not used to this feeling, this vulnerability. He’s used to getting what he wants, but with Y/N… it’s different.

Eren: I can’t stop. I don’t want to lose her.

Armin: Then don’t fuck this up, man. You’re already on thin ice. If you push her too hard, she’ll leave. You gotta play it slow.

Reiner: Yeah, just relax. Don’t make it worse.

Eren leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. They’re right. He knows it. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

He types one last message, his mind clouded with frustration and desire.

Eren: I’ll figure it out. But she’s mine.

Eren sits at his desk, his fingers drumming the surface as his friends settle in around him. Ony leans back in the chair across from him, feet propped up on the desk like it’s his own office, while Armin and Reiner sit on the side, making themselves comfortable. The vibe is casual, but Eren can feel the pressure mounting as his thoughts keep returning to Y/N. He’s trying to relax, to not seem too “crazy” in front of his friends, but the tension is there, simmering under the surface.

The door opens, and in walks Y/N, papers in hand. She looks focused, her heels clicking against the floor as she approaches Eren’s desk. She doesn’t immediately acknowledge the guys, but her eyes briefly flicker to them as she places the papers in front of Eren.

Y/N: Here’s the paperwork you asked for.

Eren glances up at her, his heart pounding, his mind racing with the thoughts of what had transpired earlier. He’s trying to play it cool—trying to keep his composure with his friends here. But then, he notices the way Y/N’s presence seems to make the air in the room shift. It’s electric, and he knows it.

Eren: Thanks for this, Y/N. You’re a life-saver.

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he decides to make the introduction, all too aware of the tension in the room.

Eren: Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are my friends—Ony, Armin, and Reiner.

Y/N offers a polite but brief smile, nodding toward them as she quickly scans the room. The last thing she expects is to find herself in Eren’s office with his friends lounging around.

Y/N: Nice to meet you all.

Eren, for the briefest moment, feels a flicker of unease—like a possessive fire just beneath the surface—but he shakes it off and turns his attention back to Y/N. That’s when she lets something slip that makes him freeze for a moment.

Y/N: By the way, I saw you moved Jean to a different department. Couldn’t help but notice.

Eren’s heart skips, but he stays composed, offering a faint smile as his friends glance at him. He doesn’t want to act like a jealous lunatic in front of them. He clears his throat, focusing back on Y/N.

Eren: I’m sorry about that. I thought it was necessary for the project’s success.

He gestures to the papers she handed him, trying to shift the focus away from his internal frustration.

Eren: Thanks for the paperwork, though. You’ve been doing great. Actually, take the rest of the day off. Consider it a reward.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, not fully buying into his offer. Her arms cross as she stands in front of his desk.

Y/N: I’m fine, Eren. I don’t need the time off. I can finish up the rest of the work.

Eren leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly, trying not to let the tension in his voice show. His tone becomes slightly sharper.

Eren: Y/N, you’re making a spectacle of yourself. You’ve been running around nonstop lately.

Y/N scoffs, clearly not taking too kindly to his suggestion. She looks at him with an unimpressed stare, her lips curling slightly in disdain.

Y/N: I’m fine. I’m not some fragile thing that needs coddling, Eren.

Eren smirks, an arrogant edge to his smile as he leans forward in his chair.

Eren: You’re not fragile? Maybe, but you're definitely testing my patience.

Y/N’s eyes flash with something fierce, her gaze narrowing. She leans in slightly, her fingers twitching as if she’s about to snap at him. Then, in one swift motion, she raises her hand, as though she’s going to slap him across the face.

The tension in the room thickens. Ony and the others watch, intrigued by the standoff. Eren doesn’t flinch, his smirk growing wider, his gaze locked on hers.

Eren: Be my guest, Y/N. Go ahead. Show me what you got.

For a split second, Y/N hesitates, her hand still hovering in the air, poised to strike. Her chest rises and falls with each breath as her eyes flicker between his confident expression and the space between them. The moment stretches on, heavy with anticipation.

But then, something shifts. The fire in her eyes dims, and she lowers her hand slowly, almost reluctantly. Eren watches her, his expression unreadable, but there’s a satisfaction in his eyes that only he understands.

Eren: You’re stronger than I thought, Y/N. I respect that.

Y/N scoffs again, turning on her heel to leave, but not before shooting one last look at him.

Y/N: You’re impossible, Eren.

As she walks out, her exit leaves the room strangely quiet. Ony, Armin, and Reiner exchange looks but don’t speak a word. The energy in the room has shifted once again—this time, it’s palpable. Eren can feel it, the shift between them, the growing tension, the silent understanding that this dynamic is far from over.

He leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he watches her go. His mind races. There’s something about her—something he can’t get out of his head.

And he knows, deep down, that he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

Armin sighs dramatically, leaning back in his chair as he watches Y/N’s retreating figure through the office door. He shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Armin: I’m definitely gonna end up being your lawyer when she sues you, Eren.

Reiner laughs, shaking his head at the situation, the tension in the room still lingering from the encounter.

Reiner: Man, I’m not even gonna lie... you’re making this harder than it has to be. He pauses, glancing at Eren. Just ask her out for God’s sake. What are you waiting for?

Eren stays silent for a moment, letting their words settle. The thought of it is... strange. Sure, he’s had plenty of women—flings, casual affairs—but this? This was different. The intensity of it all, the pull he felt whenever she was near, it was something he couldn’t ignore.

But then, his mind drifts back to the kiss, the way she’d reacted. It was like she wanted to fight him, but also... something else. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

Eren: It’s not that simple.

Ony, who had been quiet until now, raises an eyebrow. He lounges back in his seat with a grin that suggests he’s been amused by the whole situation.

Ony: Bro, it’s never that simple with you, huh? Just admit you want her, stop overthinking it. I’ve been hearing you complain about this girl for weeks, and now you're playing dumb?

Eren clenches his jaw, not wanting to admit that Ony’s right.

Eren: It’s complicated. She doesn’t even... He trails off, the words coming out in frustration. She doesn’t know what she wants.

Armin and Reiner exchange knowing looks. They’d seen Eren go through this type of internal battle before. He could be aggressive, possessive—he was always the one to go after what he wanted, but when it came to Y/N... something about her made him second-guess himself.

Armin: Man, you think she doesn’t know what she wants? She knows. She just doesn’t want to be controlled by you. Maybe try showing her you’re not just some... I don’t know, crazy possessive boss for once.

Eren rubs the back of his neck, visibly frustrated.

Eren: I’m not crazy.

Reiner chuckles.

Reiner: Oh, you’re definitely crazy. But it’s not the crazy we’re worried about. It’s the possessive part. If you keep pushing her like this, she’s gonna run, Eren.

The words hit hard, but he knows they’re true. Every second he spent obsessing over her, every action he took to control her, was pushing her farther away.

Eren doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze now fixed on the papers Y/N had left on his desk. He still has her scent lingering in his memory—the sharpness of her perfume, the warmth of her skin from their brief touch.

Ony: Bro, we need to just go out for drinks tonight. You need to clear your head before you go off the rails with her.

Eren finally looks up, meeting Ony’s eyes, then Reiner’s, then Armin’s. His mind is still racing with thoughts of Y/N—her scent, her attitude, the challenge she presents. He could feel his patience fraying, but there was something else gnawing at him. Something deeper.

Eren: Fine. Drinks. But we’re not done with this.

His friends nod, understanding the weight of what he meant. As much as they tried to talk sense into him, they knew Eren would do what he always did. He’d chase after what he wanted, no matter how messy it got.

Eren leans back in his chair, still staring at the door Y/N had left through. He knew it wouldn’t be long before she was back in front of him. And when she did, he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily.

Later, the guys meet up for drinks, but Eren can’t shake the image of Y/N out of his head. The way she stood up to him, her confidence, her defiance—it was all too intoxicating. He couldn’t let it go.

Ony watches him, a smirk playing at his lips.

Ony: You know, man, I’m starting to think you’ve already decided what you’re gonna do next. Stop pretending like you don’t know what you want.

Eren just grins, taking another sip of his drink.

Eren: I’m not pretending. I’m just waiting for the right moment.

Ony turned to Connie, his eyes gleaming with mischief, his grin wide as he leaned in to make a bold wager.

Ony: I'll bet you 50K she sues him.

Connie raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he crossed his arms.

Connie: Nah, she’s gonna end up fucking him and leaving his ass.

Reiner, who had been quietly sipping his drink, couldn’t help but join in.

Reiner: Lol, facts. Eren can’t handle all that. He acts like he’s built bad, but we all know he’s a mess when it comes to her.

Ony burst out laughing, practically cackling with amusement.

Ony: Bro, no lies detected! I mean, just look at him! Can’t even control himself around her.

Eren remained silent through all of this, the teasing growing louder, but he didn’t flinch. His thoughts were miles away, still replaying the events from earlier in the day. The kiss. Her defiance. Her eyes staring back at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and it drove him crazy.

He finally broke his silence, his voice cutting through the laughter.

Eren: Are you guys done?

Ony grinned wider, clearly not done yet.

Ony: Nah, man, I’m serious. She’s definitely gonna sue you. At this rate, you’re gonna end up in court with a restraining order on your ass.

Eren scowled, his jaw tightening. He knew they were right, in a way. The way he’d pushed her, the way his obsession had been growing—it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t healthy. But that didn’t stop him from wanting more.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting the moment. It was a message from Y/N. His heart skipped a beat. He quickly pulled it out, unlocking it and reading her message.

Y/N: I’m still thinking about the kiss. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I’m not the kind of girl who gets pushed around like that. You’ll hear from me soon.

Eren stared at the message, the words sinking in. A mix of guilt and desire swirled inside him, but his stomach tightened. He was used to getting what he wanted, but with her? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

Eren: Shit.

He tossed his phone onto the table, meeting his friends’ eyes. They were watching him, waiting for his next move.

Reiner: I’m telling you, man, you’re either gonna lose her or you’re gonna lose yourself trying to keep her. You can’t control everything.

Ony snorted.

Ony: He’s right, you know. You gotta chill out, bro.

Eren leaned back in his chair, a frown settling on his face. He didn’t like hearing the truth. Not from them. Not about this.

He glanced over at Connie, Reiner, and Ony.

Eren: I don’t know what to do.

There was a brief pause before Connie spoke up, his tone more serious than before.

Connie: Honestly, dude? You gotta stop playing games. Either you’re gonna let her go, or you’re gonna go after her. For real. No more back-and-forth.

Eren looked at his friends, his mind racing. Connie was right. He was at a crossroads, but the pull he felt toward Y/N was too strong. He wasn’t ready to let her go.

Eren took a deep breath, slamming his drink down on the table.

Eren: I’m going after her. I don’t care what happens. This time, I’m not backing down.

Reiner, Ony, and Connie exchanged looks, and then a silence fell over the table as they all realized the gravity of what Eren was saying.

Ony: Well... that’s the Eren I know. Just don’t get arrested, bro. We got enough problems without you bringing the cops into this.

Eren’s lips curled into a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mind was already on Y/N, already thinking of the next step. This time, he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what it took.

Eren: We’ll see about that.

Timeskip

Eren had been out of the office for the entire week. The sudden absence had given me the space I didn’t realize I needed. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could breathe. I wasn’t constantly on edge, waiting for his presence to fill the air, to make the ground beneath me feel shaky with every word he said or every look he gave. It was a weird feeling, almost like something had been missing, but in a good way.

I texted my friends to update them. I couldn’t keep this bottled up any longer.

Me: Mikasa, I met Ony and Armin, the guys you added to the chat.

Mikasa: They’re cool.

Kaylah: How she know’s Eren’s friends?

Mikasa: High school.

Annie: So you know Eren then?

Mikasa: Kinda, we weren't really that close. More of a friend of a friend thing.

Kaylah: Aye, Ony, Armin. I know you bitches still in here.

Ony: What you want, Kaylah?

Kaylah: Anyway, why Eren ain't in the office?

Armin: He not catching a case.

Ony: He’s well...

Armin: Bro, shut up.

Annie: Nah, nah, spill now.

Ony: Leaves group

Mikasa: Adds Ony back to group.

Mikasa: You were saying?

I laughed as the group chat erupted with back-and-forth messages. They were like a well-oiled machine when it came to digging for dirt, and I was more than ready to let them have it. I didn’t want to keep this to myself anymore.

Me: Alright, alright. Here’s the tea: Eren’s been out of the office this whole week. But, like, he’s been working from home, so I don’t know what’s going on with him.

Kaylah: Damn, that’s a whole vibe. So, what, he’s just... avoiding you?

Me: I don’t know, girl. Maybe. He just started acting strange last week, and then... he took the whole week off.

Annie: Did he say why?

Me: He didn’t. And I didn’t ask. But it’s like I get the space I need... but I also miss him? I don't even know what to think about it anymore.

Mikasa: You like him. Don’t front.

Me: Maybe. I don’t know, Mikasa.

Kaylah: Girl, come on. You definitely like him. You just don't want to admit it.

I paused, biting my lip as I read through their messages. I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, let alone them, but the truth was undeniable. Every time Eren wasn’t around, I felt this hollow ache in my chest, like I was missing something vital. Maybe I was starting to get used to the tension, the way he made me feel when he was near. I didn’t want to, but it was there.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed again with a message. It was from Eren. My stomach flipped when I saw his name on the screen.

Eren: Can we talk?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I didn’t know what to do. I was still mad at him for the things he’d done. But I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to say now. Why had he texted me out of nowhere?

Me: Now?

Eren: Yes. It’s important.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the nerves that were quickly setting in. He had a way of making everything feel so intense, so out of my control. But I was done with running away from this. I’d face him.

Me: Fine. I’ll come by in 15 minutes.

I could practically hear the smirk in his reply.

Eren: Good. I’ll see you then.

My heart beat a little faster as I closed my phone. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. There was something about him—about Eren—that I just couldn’t ignore.

When I arrived at the address Eren had texted me, I was standing in front of a sleek, modern apartment building. It looked too nice for someone like him. Maybe I was just underestimating him.

I made my way up to the penthouse and knocked on the door, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. As soon as the door opened, Eren stood there, looking like he belonged in a magazine. His usual intense gaze softened when he saw me, though, and I couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in his posture.

Eren: You came.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Me: You wanted to talk?

Eren stepped aside, motioning for me to come in.

Eren: Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot this week. About everything.

I stepped into the apartment, my eyes scanning the room. It was tastefully decorated, minimalist, and oddly calming. Eren closed the door behind me, his gaze lingering on me as I took in my surroundings.

Me: Well, let’s get this over with, then.

He chuckled softly.

Eren: I was an idiot last week.

Me: You think?

I crossed my arms, trying to hide how his admission affected me. He was right, I’d been suffocating under the weight of his attention, but now that he was pulling away, I couldn’t deny that something was missing.

Eren: I wanted to apologize. I was... overbearing.

Me: That’s one way to put it.

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us.

Eren: I had to take a step back. I didn’t know how to handle it. But I can’t deny what I feel for you, Y/N.

I froze. His voice had dropped an octave, and I could feel the weight of his words in the pit of my stomach.

Me: You can’t just say things like that.

Eren: Why not?

He was too close now. Too close for comfort. My breath hitched as he placed a hand gently on my arm, his thumb grazing my skin.

Eren: I’m not going to apologize for what happened between us. But I need you to know that I can’t let you go. Not like this. Not after what’s between us.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.

Me: What if I don’t want this?

Eren leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered.

Eren: I don’t care if you don’t want it. I’m not going to stop.

My head spun. The mix of desire and frustration was overwhelming. But I couldn’t ignore how his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, making it feel smaller, tighter.

Me: You’re crazy.

Eren: Maybe. But I’m not backing down.

He leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from mine.

Eren: I’m not letting you go, Y/N. Not now, not ever.

His words hung in the air as he slowly tilted his head, his lips brushing against mine. The kiss was gentle at first, as if he was testing the waters. But I melted into it, my hands moving to his chest as I pulled him closer.

When he pulled away, his face was inches from mine, and I could see the struggle behind his eyes. He wanted me, but there was something more there. Something deeper.

Eren: And neither are you.

I felt my knees weaken, the tension between us unbearable as I tried to resist, tried to push him away. But the pull... it was too strong.

Eren smiled softly, his gaze never leaving mine as he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with mine. The heat between us was undeniable, and his presence seemed to consume the space around us.

Eren: Stop me, Y/N. If you really don’t want me, tell me to back off, and I’ll stop. I’ll drop this whole thing right now.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. He was my boss, my manager. I was supposed to stay professional, keep my distance. But the way he looked at me, the way his voice dropped lower with every word, it was like I couldn’t think straight.

Me: Eren... you’re my boss, you’re my manager.

Eren chuckled, shaking his head.

Eren: Technically, I’m the owner and CEO, but I like this position more at times.

My eyes widened in shock.

Me: What on earth? I thought the founder was Zeke Yeager.

Eren laughed, a rich, confident sound that sent shivers down my spine.

Eren: Zeke is my older half-brother. He’s a co-founder. I just didn’t want my name plastered all over it. But... back to the topic.

I stared at him, completely caught off guard by the revelation. My mind was spinning, trying to wrap around the fact that he owned the company. He was the one who called the shots. The one who controlled everything. And here he was, standing right in front of me, making everything feel like it was about to fall apart at the seams.

Me: You’re... crazy.

Eren’s smile deepened, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place.

Eren: Maybe. But right now, you’re the one who’s making me lose control.

I took a step back, shaking my head, but he didn’t back off. His presence was overpowering. Every step he took toward me made me feel smaller, more vulnerable.

Me: We shouldn’t do this.

Eren paused, his expression unreadable, before he took another slow step closer, closing the gap between us. I could feel the tension building, thick and almost unbearable.

Eren: Say the word, Y/N, and I’ll stop. Just say it.

I looked up at him, my chest tight with conflicting emotions. He was so close now, I could feel his warmth, hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. His eyes were locked on mine, waiting for me to make a choice, to decide where this was going to go.

But what was I supposed to say? Could I even say it? Could I walk away from this... from him?

Me: I... I can’t.

Eren’s gaze flickered with something darker, something more intense, and before I could even process it, his lips were on mine again. This time, there was no hesitation. His kiss was hungry, demanding, and it ignited a fire within me that I didn’t know I could still have.

I was drowning in it, in him, in the weight of everything unsaid, all the questions and fears I had about us. I couldn’t stop it. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to.

Eren: I told you, Y/N. I’m not going to stop. Not now. Not ever.

I didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to stop what was happening between us. The lines between work and whatever this was had already blurred beyond recognition, and I had no idea how to find my way out.

Eren’s voice was rough, laced with hunger, as he groaned my name, the sound vibrating through me. His hands gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head as he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. Every movement was calculated, controlled, making it clear just how much power he had over me in this moment.

Eren: Y/N... you don’t have any idea what you do to me.

I couldn’t speak. The words caught in my throat, my body frozen beneath him. His weight, his closeness, it felt suffocating in the most overwhelming way. But I couldn't deny that a part of me wanted this, wanted him, wanted the heat that radiated off him, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.

He lowered his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses along the sensitive skin, the feeling sending a jolt through me. My breath hitched as his hands moved down, gripping my waist tightly as he slowly, carefully, slid me further back on the couch. The movement was deliberate, almost possessive, like he was marking me, staking his claim.

Eren: You’ve been driving me crazy, Y/N. I can’t get you out of my head. And now... now you’re mine.

I gasped as he spoke, the words stirring something inside of me. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet... there was something thrilling about it. The way he controlled the situation, the way he held me down, making it clear that he wasn't going to let go—he wasn’t going to let me go.

I swallowed hard, trying to fight the conflicting emotions that were starting to bubble up. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to tell him to stop, that this was wrong. But the words never came. Instead, I found myself sinking deeper into the feeling, the heat, the intensity of the moment.

His lips hovered above mine, his breath mingling with mine as he whispered, his voice low, almost a command.

Eren: Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N. Tell me you don’t want me to take control.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My mind was a blur, the only thing I could focus on was him, his body against mine, the way he was making me feel like I was completely at his mercy.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. I couldn’t ignore the pull between us. The fire in my veins.

But even as I gave into the moment, a part of me knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as this.Eren’s words were soft, almost a whisper, as he pulled back, releasing my wrists. His hands fell to his sides, and he exhaled heavily, like a man who had just been holding his breath for far too long.

Eren: I’ll stop... I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.

The sudden distance between us was almost more overwhelming than the intensity of his earlier actions. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart pounding, unsure of what I should feel. His voice had been filled with something I couldn’t place—guilt? Regret? Or was it just his way of keeping control?

I tried to sit up, my body trembling slightly as I took in what had just happened. My hands moved to my throat, as if trying to steady the rapid breaths, but I could still feel the heat of his presence surrounding me, making me feel trapped in the tension that hung between us.

Y/N: Eren...

I couldn’t even get the words out, unsure if I wanted to argue, to push him away, or to confess that a part of me didn’t want him to stop. It confused me—this mix of anger, desire, and confusion all swirling inside me like a storm.

Y/N: You... you can't just... do that.

I stumbled over my words, my voice shaky as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had pushed me, tested my limits, but I wasn’t sure if he even realized the depth of what he’d done. The emotional weight of it was suffocating.

Eren stood there for a moment, his back slightly turned, but he wasn’t walking away. He was waiting for me, waiting for something. I didn’t know what exactly, but I could feel his eyes on me, the tension in the air like a fragile thread.

Eren: I know... I know. I crossed a line. I just... I can’t be near you and not want more. But I should’ve never made you feel like you had no choice.

He turned back to face me, his eyes softer now, but there was still that edge, the intensity that never seemed to leave him.

Eren: I can’t promise that I won’t want you. But I can promise I’ll respect you, Y/N. If you tell me to stop, I will. If you don’t want this... I’ll walk away. But I need you to tell me.

The silence hung between us, thick and heavy. The words I wanted to say were stuck in my throat—what did I really want? Could I really trust him not to cross that line again? Could I trust myself not to fall deeper into this twisted game we were playing?

I looked up at him, his face a mask of regret and something darker, something deeper, and in that moment, I realized that Eren Yeager was a man of contradictions. But more than that, he was a man who knew what he wanted. And that was dangerous, because right now, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop him.

As soon as I left Eren’s apartment, my heart was still racing, my mind swirling with the confusion of everything that had just happened. The quiet hum of the city around me barely registered as I quickly typed a message to my group chat, hoping my friends could offer some clarity—or at least some comfort—after the whirlwind I’d just been through.

Group Chat:

Y/N: SOS, my place. Now.

It didn’t take long for the messages to flood in.

Kaylah: Girl, what happened??

Mikasa: Are you okay?

Annie: You good, Y/N?

I didn’t know how to answer them. How could I explain the suffocating mix of emotions I was feeling? The tension, the heat, the confusion, the need... I was a mess.

I responded quickly, trying to catch my breath as I walked faster toward my apartment.

Y/N: It’s... it’s bad, guys. I don’t even know what happened. I don’t even know what to think right now.

The three of them went quiet for a moment, and just as I was about to send another message, my phone started buzzing again.

Mikasa: Do you want us to come over?

Kaylah: Don’t go back to him, girl. You deserve better.

Annie: He did what??

The words hit me harder than I expected, the reality of it all crashing down. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the way Eren had acted—how he pushed and pulled me, how everything had escalated so quickly. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his lips felt against mine, the way his body had pinned me, the desire, the intensity...

But the other side of it—the control, the way he’d dismissed me as soon as I started to speak—left me feeling small, insignificant. It made me question everything, even my own feelings.

I paused at a crosswalk, staring at the phone screen, trying to figure out how to respond.

Y/N: He told me to leave. Like it was nothing.

I hit send, my fingers trembling slightly.

Kaylah: What do you mean?

Mikasa: He told you to leave?? After everything that happened??

Annie: What a piece of shit.

I almost laughed bitterly at Annie’s words. She wasn’t wrong. But something inside me twisted, because I didn’t want to think of him as that. Not after everything. Not after the way he made me feel, both good and bad.

I didn’t want to feel conflicted anymore. I didn’t want to feel trapped in my own thoughts. But the reality was, I was. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know if I was ready to walk away for good.

I finally made it to my apartment, but my mind was still spinning, the nagging thoughts swirling around Eren. I needed to talk to my friends. I needed them to pull me out of this spiral.

I quickly unlocked the door and flopped down onto the couch, letting my phone rest on my chest.

Y/N: I don’t even know what to do anymore...

Kaylah: Get some sleep. We’re coming over in a bit. Don’t go back to him, though. Not like this.

Annie: Yeah. You need to clear your head, girl.

I closed my eyes for a moment, the weight of their words settling in. Maybe they were right. Maybe I needed to pull back, take a step back from everything, from Eren, from the intensity he had brought into my life.

But part of me knew that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

I set my phone down, staring at the ceiling as my mind replayed every moment from the apartment, every word, every touch.

I wasn’t sure what would happen next. But I knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over. Not ye

I sat down on the couch, my hands trembling as I told them everything. The kiss, the tension, the way Eren pushed and pulled, the way he’d given me an out and I still hadn’t stopped him. I hadn’t even tried. I couldn’t bring myself to, and that realization hit me harder than I expected.

Kaylah was the first to speak up, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

Kaylah: Why didn't you stop him, Y/N?

I froze, the question hanging in the air like a weight. The answer was simple yet complicated. I hadn’t wanted to stop him. The truth was, a part of me had wanted it. I couldn't lie to myself about that. I was drawn to him in a way that made no sense, especially after everything that happened earlier today.

But I didn’t know how to say that. I didn’t know how to admit that I’d wanted him, maybe even needed him, in that moment.

I stayed silent, my gaze fixed on the floor as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Annie: Omg, you wanted him to, didn’t you... holy fucking shit, Y/N.

Her voice held that amused, mocking tone, but underneath, there was something softer. Something more... concerned. Mikasa, on the other hand, was less playful and more serious as she looked at me, processing everything I’d just spilled.

Mikasa: Let's backtrack for a second. So, Eren is the co-founder, CEO, and whatever else of Paradis Inc. Not Zeke.

I nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of everything, but I couldn’t help but feel a little rattled by her words. It was hard to process everything. I had thought Zeke was the one pulling the strings, but now Eren had just flipped my entire perception upside down.

I had only known him as my boss, but now? The owner, the CEO, the guy who owned everything around me? It changed things in a way I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I still couldn’t get over how he’d been watching me. The way he knew so much about me, the little details I hadn’t shared with anyone. It was like he had studied me, prepared for this moment—this power dynamic, where he held all the cards.

I was the one with no control, and I couldn’t decide if I hated it or craved it more.

Kaylah: Wait, you didn’t know all of that?

I shook my head, the weight of the secret crashing down on me. Y/N: No. I thought Zeke was the one who owned the company. I had no idea Eren was...

I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. How was I supposed to process the fact that this man, who had kissed me like I was his, was also the one with all the power? The one who controlled everything.

Annie: So Eren’s basically been running this shit behind the scenes?

Mikasa: And you didn’t even know. I can’t believe he didn’t tell you sooner.

I shook my head again, trying to wrap my mind around it.

Y/N: No, he didn’t tell me. But it’s more than that. The way he... controlled everything between us... made it feel like I didn’t have a choice. I don’t know how to explain it, but when he kissed me, I... I didn’t want him to stop.

The words spilled out before I could stop them, and the room fell silent as my friends processed what I had just admitted.

Kaylah: Damn, Y/N. You want him. You’re hooked on him.

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know if I could even deny it anymore. But that didn’t mean I was okay with everything that had happened. It didn’t mean I could just ignore the fact that I had let him get so close. That I had let him in when I knew, deep down, something wasn’t right.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe, just maybe, I liked the way it felt. The intensity, the pressure, the way Eren had made me feel like I was the only one in the world for him. Like he was in control, but in a way that had made me feel wanted.

Annie: Y/N, I don’t know what kind of mind games Eren’s playing, but you need to think long and hard about what you’re doing. This could go left real quick.

Her words hit me like a cold shower. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew she was right. There was something dangerous about how easily I had let myself slip into his control. Something that scared me.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to gather my thoughts.

Y/N: I’m not sure what to do. He’s... he’s confusing. I don’t know if I should stay away from him or... or go back to him.

Kaylah: Girl, you’re playing with fire. He’s your boss, for one thing. You can’t just let him run shit like that. You deserve better.

Mikasa: Yeah, Y/N, if you’re not careful, this could get real toxic, real fast.

I sighed, feeling the weight of their words pressing down on me.

Y/N: I know. I know it’s not healthy, but there’s something about him I can’t shake off. Something that makes me want to stay close to him... even when I know I shouldn’t.

My phone buzzed suddenly, cutting off the conversation, and I quickly glanced down. The message was from Eren.

Eren: You know I’m serious, right? We need to talk.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t know if I was ready to talk to him again—didn’t know if I was ready to face what had just happened. But a part of me couldn’t resist.

I locked my phone and put it face down on the coffee table.

Y/N: I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but I’ll figure it out.

The room was quiet again, my friends’ concerned gazes on me as I tried to make sense of everything.

The tension in the air thickened as Mikasa held my phone, her fingers pressing against the screen, and she put it on speaker without a second thought. The moment Eren’s voice crackled through the speakers, my heart skipped in my chest.

Eren: Who are you?

Mikasa: Mikasa, why you calling her phone

Eren: what the fuck? Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: What the fuck are you on?

I could hear Eren sigh on the other end, clearly frustrated, but Mikasa wasn’t about to let him off the hook. She leaned back into the couch, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed as if she could hear him through the phone.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa: Answer the question, Eren.

I could feel the weight of his silence pressing through the room, but Mikasa wasn’t backing down either.

Eren: Where’s Y/N?

Mikasa clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Mikasa: Is your record broken in that throat of yours?

I could hear Eren’s breath hitch, probably trying to keep his cool, but the frustration was palpable.

Eren: Take me off speaker, Mikasa. I’m not stupid.

Mikasa didn’t hesitate. She let out a little chuckle, her fingers tapping the edge of the phone like she was playing a game.

Mikasa: Nope.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at how this was escalating. It was almost like they were enjoying this back-and-forth too much.

Eren: You wouldn’t get it.

Mikasa: Get what, Yeager?

Her voice was sharp, and there was a dangerous edge to it now. Eren didn’t respond immediately, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. I could imagine him standing there, running his hand through his hair, annoyed at being backed into a corner by Mikasa of all people.

I leaned back against the couch, my heart still racing from the conversation, unsure of what was going to happen next. I hadn’t expected Mikasa to put him on speaker, but now that she had, there was no turning back. This was going to get messy.

Mikasa: Well?

There was another long pause, and when Eren finally spoke, his tone was more resigned than before.

Eren: I don’t need your fucking permission, Mikasa. I’m trying to talk to Y/N.

I could hear Mikasa’s sharp intake of breath.

Mikasa: And you think she wants to talk to you after what happened?

The words hung in the air like a threat, and I had to force myself to focus on the situation.

Eren: Look, just... just put her on the phone. I need to talk to her.

Mikasa: That’s up to her, not you.

There was a finality to her voice, and I could feel the tension mounting. But deep down, I knew Mikasa was just looking out for me, protecting me from whatever game Eren was trying to play.

I grabbed the phone from Mikasa’s hand, finally deciding to take control of the situation.

Y/N: It’s me. I’m listening.

There was a moment of silence before Eren’s voice, softer than I’d ever heard it, finally came through the line.

Eren: Y/N...

His voice trailed off, and I could hear the mix of frustration and something else—something deeper, maybe regret or concern? I couldn’t tell.

But I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear him out, not yet.

Y/N: What do you want, Eren?

Eren: I... I need to explain. Please, just let me explain.

Mikasa: Y/N, don’t do it. He’s just going to confuse you more.

I glanced over at Mikasa and the others. They were all watching me, their eyes full of concern. I knew they didn’t want me to fall back into this mess with Eren. But part of me... part of me wanted to hear him out.

Y/N: I’m listening, but this better be good, Eren.

Eren sighed, and I could almost picture him pacing.

Eren: I didn’t mean to push you. I got carried away, but I need you to understand. I want you, Y/N. Not just as my employee or some... business thing. I want you. But I don’t know how to fix this. I’m sorry if I fucked things up with you.

I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I listened. His words were raw, but I wasn’t sure if I could trust them. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Was it just guilt talking, or was there something more to it?

Y/N: I don’t know if I can trust you right now, Eren. You’ve crossed too many lines, and I... I don’t know if I can just forget about that.

There was another long pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, it was almost a whisper.

Eren: I know. I get it. I just... I don’t want to lose you, Y/N.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip. This was getting way too complicated. I wanted to hear him out, but I couldn’t ignore how badly he had hurt me. The push and pull of it all was driving me insane.

Y/N: I told you, Eren, but I was never yours.

Eren’s sigh echoed through the phone, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me. It wasn’t just frustration; it was something deeper, like he had finally realized the truth.

Eren: You’re right, but I want you to be...

His words hung in the air, and I could hear the vulnerability in his voice, something I hadn’t expected from him. It was almost like he was pleading, but there was still that cocky edge lurking beneath.

Y/N: But if I don’t want that?

Eren’s response came quickly, with a sharp edge.

Eren: Then stop telling me what-ifs and tell me straight up you don’t want me. Then I’ll back off, Y/N. I won’t push you anymore, but I need to hear it from you.

The finality in his tone hit me hard. He was right. All this time, I had danced around the truth, letting the situation unfold without really confronting what I wanted. He wanted honesty, and in that moment, I realized I had to give it to him, no matter how much it stung.

I stood there, phone in hand, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t just about him anymore—it was about me too. What did I want? What did I really want?

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

Y/N: I don’t want you, Eren. Not like that.

The silence on the other end was deafening. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to respond, and I almost regretted saying the words. But I knew I couldn’t take them back.

Eren: Alright... I’ll respect that. But don’t think this is the end of it, Y/N. I’m not giving up so easily.

I could almost hear the smirk in his voice, but this time, it didn’t feel as teasing. It felt like a challenge. Like he was daring me to stand by my decision.

Y/N: Maybe it should be the end of it, Eren.

There was a long pause. I could hear his breathing on the other end of the line, and for a moment, everything felt still.

Eren: You’re making it harder than it needs to be, Y/N. But if that’s how it has to be... fine. You don’t want me. But you’ll regret it.

With that, he ended the call. The finality of it hit me all at once, and I stood there, staring at my phone, trying to shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside me.

Part of me felt relief, like I had finally put an end to all the confusion. But another part of me... part of me wasn’t so sure.

Was I making a mistake?

The next couple of months blurred into a strange, quiet routine. Eren had placed Zeke as my new manager, which, in hindsight, seemed like a relief at first. Zeke was easy to work with—no pressure, no tension. It was smooth sailing, and I almost forgot what it felt like to have that weight hanging over me. But there was always a nagging feeling, an emptiness that I couldn’t quite shake.

Eren... had become more of a distant figure now. He had fully taken over Zeke’s role as CEO, and with that, the office dynamic shifted. The gossip spread like wildfire, and it wasn’t the kind of talk that made him sound like the ambitious businessman people had once admired. No, the rumors about Eren now painted him as a monster—cold, detached, and impossible to work with. People said he was ruthless in meetings, demanding more from the staff, never satisfied, never giving anyone a break. He was the opposite of the manager Eren had been.

I rarely saw him anymore. When I did, it was brief—a passing glance, a fleeting moment where our eyes locked for an instant. It was like he saw right through me, as if I didn’t even exist. His gaze would always shift away before I could even register it. It was almost like I was nothing to him, like he had erased me from his world completely.

The changes were undeniable. Eren’s appearance had shifted drastically. His hair had grown longer, messier, giving him a rougher edge. He had been working out, his frame more defined, his muscles more prominent under his usual attire. But it wasn’t just his physical appearance that had changed. It was the energy he carried now—hardened, cold, and entirely unapproachable. He had tattoos now, ones that were visible under his sleeves when he’d roll them up, and they only seemed to add to the mystery surrounding him.

It felt like I was looking at a stranger.

Sometimes, I caught myself watching him from across the room, like I was some outsider trying to understand who he had become. And whenever I thought I had caught him looking back at me, there was no recognition in his eyes. It was as if I had become just another face in the crowd, an unimportant memory from his past.

I wanted to reach out. I wanted to ask him what had happened, what had changed. But I didn’t. The space between us had grown too wide, too complicated. And I didn’t know how to bridge it anymore.

For the first time in months, I couldn’t help but wonder... Did I really make the right choice? Was I wrong to push him away when everything had seemed to be going in the opposite direction?

The silence between us was loud, deafening. And I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was the one who had caused it all.

Zeke gave me some paper work to drop for Eren. It was the first time I was gonna have direct contact with him in wht 6 months. I headed up to his office floor.

Eren was pacing his office on a call raising his voice at someone on the call. He locked eyes with me and eyed the paper work in my hand.

I stood frozen just inside the doorframe, the papers in my hand suddenly feeling heavier than they should. Eren’s presence seemed to fill the room, his energy, tense and coiled, pulsing through the space like an electric current. His gaze met mine—sharp, cold—and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was suspended.

He didn’t acknowledge me verbally, just motioned toward the desk where he clearly wanted the paperwork dropped. His eyes, dark and intense, briefly flicked over the papers in my hand, as if evaluating my every move. The call on the other end seemed to escalate, but his attention never wavered from me.

“I need this deal settled as of yesterday. Don’t make me fly out there,” he snapped into the phone. His voice was lower now, even more commanding, his frustration evident as he cut the call short with a curt “I’ll handle it myself,” before slamming the phone down.

The office went silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner and the heavy weight of his stare. I stood there, unsure of what to do next.

He didn’t speak right away, just looked at me with a distant, unreadable expression. His posture was stiff, his jaw clenched, the usual air of authority that had once been reassuring now felt like an impenetrable wall. I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, a stark contrast to the stillness in the room.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence. “You still working with Zeke?” His voice was flat, almost too casual, but I could sense the underlying tension.

I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, Zeke gave me this to drop off for you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning over the paperwork in my hands again before he let out a small sigh and stepped toward the desk. “Put it on the table.”

I placed the papers down carefully, then turned to leave, but before I could even make it halfway to the door, I heard him speak again.

“You know, you could’ve dropped these off any time in the past six months.” His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He wasn’t asking a question. It was a statement—a reminder of the space that had grown between us.

I paused, caught in the moment, and turned slowly to face him. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

He didn’t reply right away, his gaze lingering on me for a long moment before he spoke again, this time softer, almost like he was speaking to himself. “I didn’t want to see you like that.”

I didn’t understand what he meant at first. But the tone, the way his voice cracked slightly at the end, it was enough to make me pause, to make me reconsider everything I thought I knew.

I swallowed, taking a step closer again. “Eren... what happened?”

For a second, his eyes flickered with something—anger? Regret? But whatever it was, it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “Nothing happened. Everything happened. But that’s not the point.”

The tension in the air thickened, and the silence stretched between us. I could feel the familiar ache in my chest, the one I had been trying to ignore for months. The same ache that told me things weren’t as simple as they seemed. That maybe, just maybe, we weren’t as done as we had both convinced ourselves we were.

I stepped closer again, this time determined. “Then what is the point, Eren?”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought he might say something—anything that would make sense of this mess we were both tangled in. But instead, he took a step back, his expression shutting down again.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, his voice hardening once more. “You’ve done your job. You can go now.”

I stood there for a long second, my heart pounding. Everything about this felt wrong—his coldness, the distance, the way he was shutting me out like he had done months ago. But I didn’t have the words to bridge that gap, not anymore. So, I nodded quietly, turning to leave without another word.

I did something out of character and stepped closer and he stepped back.

I stepped closer, feeling the space between us grow heavier with every breath. Eren, for the first time, took a step back, and I could see it—he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I kept closing the distance. His eyes flickered toward the door like he was looking for a way out.

“Y/N,” his voice was strained, as though he was trying to push me away without actually wanting to.

I didn’t stop. I needed to understand what had changed, why everything felt so off. "What’s with the cold shoulder?" I asked, my voice quieter now, laced with confusion and hurt. I wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

Eren didn’t look at me, his eyes glancing toward the door again. I took another step, moving closer, but every time I did, he pulled back, like I was something to avoid. It was so unlike him, and it confused me even more.

“Y/N, please leave,” he said, the words harsh but with an undercurrent of something I couldn’t name. Maybe it was a plea.

“And if I don’t?” I challenged, my heart hammering in my chest. I wasn’t going to let him push me away without understanding why.

“I’m not doing this, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking. “You told me you didn’t want me. I backed off. That’s what you wanted, right? I’m out your hair, out your way.”

I stood there, feeling the tension in the room tighten, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Eren was backing away, his walls back up, that familiar coldness in his eyes. But it wasn’t the same as before. There was something raw in his expression, something deeper. I could feel it, like an undercurrent I couldn’t quite grasp.

“Eren…” I started, my voice faltering. “What happened to you? You look… different. You've changed.”

He glanced at me briefly, his gaze flicking to the door again, but he didn’t respond. It was like he was shutting me out completely, unwilling to even acknowledge what I had said.

I took a step closer, ignoring the instinct to back off. He took a step back too, but I wasn’t going to let him distance himself like this. Not again.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice more desperate than I meant it to be. “Why the distance? Why pull away now?”

“Yn,” he said, his tone tight, almost pained. “Please, just leave. I’m not doing this with you anymore.”

I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t just walk away when there was so much left unsaid between us. I stared at him, taking another step forward. He didn’t move this time, but his jaw tightened, like he was fighting with himself.

“And if I don’t?” I asked, a challenge in my voice.

Eren’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t place, and for a second, I thought he might snap. But instead, he stood his ground, shaking his head slightly. “Then you’re just making it harder for both of us.”

I couldn’t understand him anymore. The distance he put between us—physical and emotional—was suffocating, and it was tearing me apart. I had told him I didn’t want him, yes. But that wasn’t all of it. That wasn’t everything.

“I never said I didn’t want you,” I whispered, stepping even closer now, my heart pounding in my chest. “I just didn’t know how to deal with everything... with you, with me. But this... this doesn’t make sense, Eren. What is this really about?”

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but then his expression hardened again. He took another step back, his body language tense, like he was holding back something—something that was just about to break free.

“You told me you didn’t want this,” he said, his voice quieter now but still carrying that weight of finality. “You told me you wanted me to back off. And I did. You’ve made it clear. I’m not going to keep pushing when you don’t want me around.”

I opened my mouth to respond, to say something that would change his mind, but nothing came out. The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. I didn’t know how to fix this mess. He was right—he had backed off, he had given me the space I said I needed. But now, it felt like I had been left with nothing. I wasn’t sure if I could walk away from him again.

I stood there, frozen, the words I needed to say stuck in my throat. Eren just stood there too, his eyes still avoiding mine, his body turned slightly away as if trying to create a barrier between us.

Finally, I took a deep breath, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you, Eren. I never wanted you to just… disappear. But you’re right. I didn’t know what I wanted either. But I do now.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, clearly not expecting me to say something like that. “What do you mean?”

I swallowed, stepping closer once again, this time with purpose. “I mean… I’m not ready to walk away from you, Eren. But I need you to stop running from me. Stop running from whatever this is.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes still guarded, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me hope. Maybe we hadn’t completely destroyed what we had. Maybe it was still there, buried underneath all the walls we had both built.

“Just… talk to me, okay?” I whispered, feeling the weight of the moment crash down on me. “Let me in, Eren.”

He hesitated for a long while, and then, just when I thought he might shut me out completely, he finally nodded, though his gaze was still distant.

“I’m sorry, yn. I really am.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried so much weight. “I just… I don’t know how to do this anymore.”

I reached out, a small gesture, but enough to bridge the gap. I didn’t want to give up on him. On us. Not when it felt like there was still something worth fighting for.

“I’ll help you figure it out,” I said softly. “But I need you to be honest with me. About everything.”

Eren looked at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. But eventually, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“I’ll try,” he finally said, his voice a little stronger. “But I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

I nodded, offering him a small, hopeful smile. “I know. But we don’t have to do this alone.”

If you guys want a part two with just smut imma write it and drop it. this was already 21.3k words

#aot x black reader #aot onyankopon #eren yeager #eren aot #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren smut #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #eren fluff #eren jeager smut #eren x reader #attack on titan eren #aot x you #aot x reader #aot fanfiction

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uracutieraka · 11 days ago

Text

Drama

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Arguments all day with your ’rents

Just to go out, gotta fight for this shit (Fight for this shit)

Gotta realize you’re a high school girl (High school girl)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Older!college freshman! Matsukawa issei x F!reader

Tw! (Slight) age gap, mutual virginity loss, smut, mutual pining (??)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Synopsis; you and mattsukawa have known eachother since you were babies, when he goes off for college and leaves you behind to finish your third year of high school you begin lashing out. What is he gonna do with you?

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Ever since Issei left for college, he’d received message after message of your mom telling him how you’d been lashing out and sneaking out to parties.

Disappearing into the darkness of the late nights, stumbling in to your window at 4 am, allowing yourself an hour and half of sleep before getting up and getting ready for school.

At first, it was fun and exhilarating. You had never disobeyed your parents, always a goody two shoes.

But now, your grades were slipping and you were breaking farther away from the perfect image everyone had painted you as.

Endless nights of your parents scolding you had passed, always ending with you rolling your eyes and slamming your bedroom door.

Then a few minutes later, without fail, your phone would vibrate, messages filling your inbox

‘Matti susu 💋’ it would read.

Do not disturb.

This continued for 4 months.

You hadn’t talked to the boy who you had taken baths with when you were babies in four whole months.

You were mad at him, for leaving you behind in this shitty place.

You hated everyone and all your friends, the only people you didn’t hate, were his friends so they were long gone.

That’s why you did this.

Getting dressed up in too-tight clothes and crawling out your window almost every night, hopping around party to party until the early morning hours.

It’s a Saturday morning - 4:45 a.m. to be exact - when you crawl back through your window.

Feet landing on the ground, you slowly shut the window, flinching when it squeaks slightly.

After shutting it you turn and sloppily shed your sweaty clothes.

Your room is dark, and your eyes heavy from a mix of tiredness and being under the influence of weed and alcohol.

You pull your tiny dress off and grab the giant t-shirt up off your floor where you had dropped it earlier in the night before you changed.

It was Matsukawa’s. You had stolen it right before he left for school, wanting it for “when you couldn’t sleep without him.” He had chuckled and rolled his eyes when he handed it to you.

“Whatever ya’ little perv.”

You scoffed, feigning disbelief.

“I am not a pervert!”

He raised a brow and put a hand on his hip sassily.

“You so are.”

That was one of the last conversations you had with him before he left.

You now plopped face down into your bed, taking in a deep breath and only turning your head to breath out.

Your eyes have now adjusted somewhat to the darkness.

Enough to make out the dark figure sitting on the chair by your vanity.

Grabbing your phone you fumble to press the flashlight button.

Thinking it was probably a pile of clothes and your eyes playing tricks on you.

It wasn’t.

The lamp next to the chair clicks on.

You turn your flashlight off and now are sitting on your knees on the bed facing the chair and light.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You sneer.

“Is that really how you’re gonna greet me after ignoring me for months?” The boy chuckles, standing up from the seat. With 2 long strides he is now at the side of your bed, hands in his pockets as he looks down at you.

He leans over you and squints his eyes.

“You’re cross faded right now.” He says, like its a gross fact.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms.

“So what?” Your tone is harsh and words are slightly slurred together. You hiccup and look at him, forcing a pouty look on your face.

Makeup smeared everywhere messily. Lips plump from whatever it was you had been getting into earlier that night.

Matsukawa was breathless.

You looked so beautiful with the soft light hitting your face, outlining your features.

The smeared mascara and eyeshadow made your eyes pop, and his t-shirt that fell halfway down your thighs hugged your body.

His eyes trailed over you, down your jaw and neck, to see the shoulder that was showing from the loose material of his old band tee.

“So what?,” he scoffed leaning back up to look down at you. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

His words strike your heart.

You roll your eyes, throwing your self to lay facing your bedroom wall now, not wanting him to see the tears that are welling in your eyes.

“Whatever.” You say, though he picks up on the way your voice cracks slightly at the end.

He lets out a quick huff, crawling on the bed behind you.

He lays the same way you are but keeps space between you.

Theres a few minutes of complete silence before he speaks.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

You lay there for a moment before clearing your throat and flipping over to face him.

You study his features, his hair has grown, now he has small curls that now fall over his forehead.

You reach out and twist one on your finger, something that you used to do until he chopped them all of his first year of high school.

He had kept them short until he left for college.

You sigh, letting the curl unravel itself from your grip.

Watching it bounce back into place you finally speak.

“Why’d you leave me here all alone su-su?”

Your voice is a meek whisper, no doubt from the partying.

A soft smile over takes his expression, followed by a slight chuckle.

“Im only 2 hours away.”

“Yeah but you’re not here!”

His face contorts to hold a small frown.

‘Mm’ it’s a disapproving grunt.

You look at him with sad, puppy dog eyes and he can’t help but feel horrible for going off to school.

“I know it’s not fair of me to be upset because I can just come to you whenever,” you blow a strand of hair out of your face and move so you’re now laying facing up and looking at the ceiling. “But It’s just so depressing without you here.”

Your head drops to look at him, awaiting his reaction. You can see him thinking hard about how to respond to your vulnerability. His brows are furrowed slightly as his lips are curled into a quizzical scowl.

A moment passes and he finally speaks up.

“Yeah but I can always come back here too, you just never reach out so I don’t.”

Heat crawls up your face, embarrassed at yourself.

The illicit substances are still flowing in your body, you can tell by the way you’re hot all over and the fact you can hear yourself slurring your own words when you speak.

“Jus’ missed you su-su.” You say wiggling around until you’re positioned in his arms, your face in his chest.

He wraps his arms around you, bending his wrists so his fingers can wrap themselves in your hair.

He moves to adjust to the new position, allowing his head to get comfortable, his chin rests itself on the top of your head.

He breathes in through his nose deeply before he talks again.

“I’ve missed you.”

You and Matsukawa had always been affectionate, to the point his friends would tease him about how normal friends weren’t that close.

He knew that. He didn’t need his annoying ass homeboys telling him too.

It was all innocent though! Holding hands, kisses on the cheek, hugging, or you hugging the large boy’s side as he had an arm draped over your shoulders, and even cuddling to go to sleep.

But, when he went off to school his horizons were… opened… in a sense.

Frat parties and girls throwing ass became a regular occurrence for him, but even with countless girls making advances at him and his friends trying to peer pressure him into joining hookup culture, he held loyal to the younger girl from back home.

Simply shutting them down with a simple “I already got a girl.”

Though you not speaking to him was driving him crazy, so crazy that he was loosing sleep over it. That’s why he decided to take the first train to you on Friday night.

He had arrived at 3 a.m., letting himself in with the spare key your parents gave him years ago.

He of course had told them he was coming into town late, but they didn’t care, just happy he was coming to see you.

The thing about Matsukawa though, was that he was sneaky. Since your parents loved him so much they would never assume he had ill-intent by coming to town on a Friday.

Which, they were right, he was in college so weekends tended to be easier to visit on, but this Friday was different.

This was the 2nd Friday of the month. Which was conveniently the Friday your parents went into the city for the night every month for date nights.

It had been this way for over 10 years.

He had other intentions for this visit though, none that could be considered innocent.

All those girls had him thinking of you, the images of you that had started filling up your private finsta had him nearly banging his head against the wall.

Tiny dresses that had your chest spilling out of them, tiny shorts that were basically just underwear and lowcut shirts all had his mind reeling.

‘Who are you showing off for?’

The question thumped the inside of his skull every night as he viewed your photos and highlights.

Thoughts of the girl he had known as long as he could remember turned from innocent jealousy to something evil.

He knew he was done for when your provocative images were the only thing that could get him off.

He felt dirty every-time he palmed himself to your feed.

He didn’t care though. You were going to be his and he was going to be sure of that.

You pushing your head harder into his chest broke him out of his train of thought.

“Y/n”

“Hmm?” A quiet questioning hum leaves your throat. Eyes closed as you breathe in his scent.

“You know we’re more than just friends right?”

You pull back enough so you can make eye contact with him.

You look over his face once before responding.

“I know.”

“So then what are we doing? Why have you been ignoring me?”

You resettle yourself into his chest, inhaling and mulling over the real reason why you were so upset at him.

“Because,” you close your eyes again and take a deep breath to calm down. “Because what if you found a girl there? In the city? I wouldn’t want to hold you back Issei. And it made me upset because I love you a lot.”

Your mind is still fuzzy so you’re slow to recognize the words tumbling past your lips.

You hear his breath catch in his throat before he begins choking.

He sits up and catches his breath, finally finishing his coughing fit.

You sit up now too, realizing what you just said.

“Im sorry! I- i didn’t- i do love you but I-“ youre cut off by warm lips on yours.

You kiss back, melting into him.

You deepen the kiss and reach up grabbing his shirt collar, guiding him with it.

You gently push against him with your hands and he lays back on your bed.

You simultaneously swing your leg over him, straddling the lanky older boy.

His hands find perch on your hips, circling his thumbs slowly on them.

You break the kiss and look down at him.

He smiles up at you widely and you smile back. Giggles escaping the both of you, it was the type of laughter that you only have when you’re doing something you’re not supposed to be doing with someone you’re close with.

You lean down, smile still on your faces as you kiss his cheek, peppering soft kissed down his jaw and on to his neck.

He tilts his head, allowing more space for the action.

He uses his hands to move your hips against him, a quiet moan leaving the back of his throat at the friction and sensation of kisses on his neck.

You giggled, letting him continue to rock you as he pleased.

You kiss back up his neck and jaw until you land back on his mouth.

You lock lips with him , resting your hands on his shoulders as you start moving at your own pace.

He gasps into your mouth at the unexpected change of pace.

After a moment he flips the two of you over.

Looking down at you, he studies your face.

You feel embarrassed at his lingering stare, what if he looks at you too long and notices all your flaws?

“Y/n,” his voice is raspy and low. You look back up at him and his gaze is intense. “Those pictures you’ve been posting…,” he lets an airy chuckle escape his mouth as he slightly drops his head and shakes it, like he’s trying to shake bad thoughts out of his head. “Who are you posting them for?” His eyes now locked on you.

The heat in your cheeks burns even harder than it had been. You contemplate telling him the truth or saying no one.

“You.” It’s a hushed whisper, you look so cute under him, giving him a bashful look.

You now see his face flush as he looks away from you.

After a few beats of silence he turns his head to face you again.

“Good.”

It’s not bold and he still has a hint of nervousness to his tone.

Leaning down he captures you by the lips yet again.

He’s more fervent than before, grinding into you, kissing sloppily down your neck.

You stop him by grabbing his face and making him look at you.

“Are we really gonna..,” you look away as your voice drops to a whisper. “Have sex?”

You have doe eyes as you look back to him, awaiting the older boys answer.

His face softens at the way you look at him.

“Do you… want to?” He whispers back to you.

He’s always been like this.

So sweet to you that it made his friends throw up at how different he acted when you were around.

Obviously you two would bicker and tease each other but it was never the way he was with literally anyone else.

He’s still looking at you, but now he rolls onto the side of you.

He brings his hands up and uses his index finger to trace your jawline.

You look over at him and finally give your answer.

“Yes,” his eyes light up a bit before you speak again. “But, you have to be 100% honest first.”

An eyebrow shoots up on his face.

“About what?”

“Haveyoubeenwithanyoneelsebehonestrightnow.”

You look away from him, nervous to hear his answer.

“Woah- no! I most definitely have not!”

He’s actually kind of hurt that you would think he would do that to you.

“Promise?” You stick your pinky out at him.

“I promise.” He laces his with yours, signifying he true to his word.

You sigh and flip yourself back on to his lap.

“Good.” You say, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

“Have you.”

“Hell no!”

He chuckles before lacing his hand through the hair on the nape of your neck, pulling you back to him.

Just before he kisses you he whispers, breath on your lips. “Good.”

This time the kissing is different.

Theres a confirmed goal between the two of you and it’s hard to slow down now.

The finish line is so close.

Issei’s hand untangles itself from your hair and makes it’s way down your body.

Finding itself back you your hip for a brief moment, until he slides two of his fingers along the hem of your underwear.

You flinch at the sudden movement, but allow him to continue.

Your stomach is swarming with butterflies and youre body is so hot you might melt.

“Ya’ know y/n….” He says now running his fingers back and forth on the hem slowly. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in a pathetic attempt to calm you nerves. “All those girls at school only made me miss you more than I thought was possible.”

He traces his finger lightly up you naval and over your ribs, splaying his hand out flat against your side, his thumb makes small circular movements on your skin.

You now open your eyes and study his expression.

His eyes are heavy and lidded, no doubt from arousal and the fact it’s now past 5 in the morning.

“Issei.”

He looks away from where his hand connects to your skin, eyeing the cute lace underwear you had on.

“Hm?”

You move his hand and back on his lap.

“Can we please keep going?”

He was so caught up in enjoying your presence he had almost briefly forgotten what you two were doing.

He flips back over you with a small smile.

He looks nervous. You had only seen him like this a few times in all the years you had known him. So it was unexpected from the usually confident man.

You reach up and cup his face, rubbing your thumb faintly over his bottom lip.

You pull him down towards you, restarting what had abruptly ended a few minutes ago.

Kissing back you and him fall back into the same pattern you had been in prior.

This time it’s for real. There’s nothing stopping the two of you.

He pushes the bottom of your shirt up, and you break away only to sit up and throw it off of you.

His eyes fall down to your chest. He had never seen real boobs in person before. At least not like this.

“Su-su?,” his gaze comes back to your face. You point to his shirt. “Your turn.” It’s meek, as if you were embarrassed to even hint you wanted him to discard his clothes too.

“Oh! Sorry!” He quickly takes his shirt off, then stands to drop his pants to the floor.

He quickly kicks them off his ankles and gets back on your bed.

Youre both sitting facing each other, both on your knees.

“Now what?” He throws a hand to rub the back of his neck, unsure what to do, or more what you wanted him to do.

“Now, you kiss me again and uhm,” your face grows a deep shade of red. You look down at his hands, resting on his knees. “You touch me.”

“Okay.” He says, letting a breath of air escape his mouth.

Leaning over you two reconnect. Lips matching eachothers paces.

At first hes slow and gentle but then he deepens the kiss, speeding up his movements.

Hes now over you (again, damn you guys really need to stop stopping.) hand running up and down the sode of your thigh gently.

You weren't unaware of just how large Matsukawa was.

You were in fact the opposite. His large size never failed to amaze you.

When you were younger, it was cool. He was so much taller than everyone!

You never thought anything weird of it until last year year.

You were with him, and a few of his volleyball teammates at his house.

They were 17 and had gotten the opportunity to have a house to themselves.

It took Matsukawa weeks of begging his parents to let him have his friends over.

It took you one minute and a promise of no funny business under your watch.

They agreed, trusting you more than him.

Though, promising a whole house for a weekend to multiple teenage boys is basically asking for something bad to go down.

Long story short, the other 3 boys had scrounged around their parents cabinets for any alcohol they could.

“9 beers, half a bottle of sake, and 2 whole bottles of wine, curtsey of Tooru.” Hiro speaks out to the small group.

‘Not bad’s followed the statement.

An hour later, you guys were all giggly and drunk, never having drank this much before.

“Ok, ok so youre telling me you two have neverrrrr,” Oikawa points a finger back and forth between you and Issei. You’re lazily leaned up against his side, as his arm rests around your shoulder. “Ya’know…did it?” A shit eating grin is plastered on his face.

Your face is burning hot from the topic of conversation.

Issei is looking away from you, but you can tell he’s also feeling the same way you are.

You nod ‘no’ to Oikawa’s question. Ignorantly hoping that would be the end of it.

“I mean think about it from y/n’s perspective.,” now Iwaizumi joins in. You turn towards him, thinking maybe he would be your savior. You were wrong. “Mattsun is like, ginormous compared to her, and i mean, not to be like gay, but he’s probably… well endowed.”

Your face is now sheet white from the statement. Grabbing your can you chug the last of your beer.

“Dude!” Issei now shouts out at his friend. Throwing the nearest pillow at the other boy.

“Sorry! It’s just a thought bro!”

“You’re so gay!”

“Am not!”

The two boys keep bickering as you now look back over at Issei.

It’s like a switch flips in your head. A sudden shift in your guys relationship was felt by both of you.

From that point forward you two could barely touch each other without shying your faces away from one another.

After a few months though it slowly became normal for you two again. This time though-when he would pull you close into him while walking home, or scoot closer to you on the bench at lunch, just so he could be near you- a new feeling settled in your stomach.

Something sweet but hungry.

That’s how you felt now.

There was something in the deepest, darkest parts of you that was starving. Something animalistic.

A hand sliding over the material of your underwear grounds you.

Your breath hitches in anticipation.

He looks at you, a glint of mischief and curiosity is in his eyes. You know this look. It’s the look he gets when he’s testing the waters with how long he can get away with do something before pissing you off.

This time though, its for a different reason.

How far can he go until you’re begging for him?

He had now come to realize he could go pretty far.

Your underwear are long gone, hands entangled in the boys curls.

He’s 2 fingers deep into you, mouth working the rest of you.

For a virgin he was surprisingly good at this.

You wondered for brief second if he had lied to you but that train of thought was quickly lost when he pulled back from you.

“Am I… doing it right? I’m not really sure what i’m doing.” His fingers are still moving in and out of you, his eyes are locked on your face, trying to read your expressions.

You grab his wrist hinting for him to stop, so you can properly answer him.

You pant for a few seconds before propping yourself up to look at him.

“Yes. Really good. More than good Issei.”

You get a good look at his face, his pupils are dilated, hair messy from your fingers, and the bottom half of his face is glistening from a mixture of his saliva and your arousal.

“Okay, good.” He says, a smile yet again takes over his face.

He goes to move his fingers again but you grip on his wrist again.

Biting your lip, your eyes now avoid his.

“Can we, uhm, y’know..”

His eyes widen. Anxiety now wracking through him again, but also a sort of excitement at the prospect offered to him.

“Yes!” It was more desperate than he had hoped, internally he cringed at it.

He repositioned over you. Pushing his underwear down and kicking them off.

You look down.

“Woah.” Your eyes are opened wide, mouth slightly agape.

He studies your face, now growing nervous at your staring.

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

You look back at him. “No! It’s just, like, really big…”

Issei swears he could’ve finished in that moment, but he didn’t. He was proud of himself.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

“Issei,” You have a pitiful look on your face. “Please?”

He doesn’t know what happened.

One second he’s reassuring you, the next he’s pushed all the way inside you.

Your whimpers and clawing at his back makes him damn near primal.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yes! Please, do something Issei!” You whine out to him.

You feel full. Unable to do anything but think about Issei.

A guttural moan leaves his throat.

He slowly pulls back and you hiss at the burning.

“A-are you sure you want me to-,”

“Issei. Do it.” It’s stern but reassuring for him in a way.

He keeps going, eyes trained on where you two connect.

He quickly slams his hips back into yours.

A loud moan leaves you.

Its the best thing he’s ever heard, and now he’s determined to hear it more.

He quickly sets a pace, slow and steady.

Your hands are entangled in his hair again, slightly pulling whenever he thrusts back into you.

“Fuck! It’s so big!”

“D-dont, fuck, don’t stop!”

Your words thumped in his head. The encouragement only made him go faster and harder.

He cant stop staring at your face, watching how every movement has your eyes rimming up with tears.

You had been entranced, staring at where he filled you up. Now you look back up at him.

“You’re s-so pretty -aha- Issei!”

The once determined drive to fuck you was suddenly turned into something else.

Now he was determined to make love to you. Suddenly realizing how intimate this moment was.

Having you here like this for him, so pretty and vulnerable.

He’s filled with so much love for you it hurts.

“Fuck, i fucking love you.” He states, it’s broken up between thrusts and soft moans leaving the both of you.

“Love you too issei.” You pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

His movements are slow and languid.

He’s focused on making you feel good.

His thumb is stroking your cheek as he peppers small kisses and sweet nothings to you.

It’s not much longer until you feel a knot forming in your abdomen.

“I-i think m’gonna cum.” You say.

“Wha- okay, yeah, me too.” He’s breathing hard.

You can see the sweat beads on his face, resting where his brows are furrowed together in concentration.

He continues the pace, hoping to bring you both to your releases at the same time.

And he does.

“M’cumming su-su!”

“Shit- me too baby!”

He thrusts into you a few more times before letting out a loud groan.

You had cum slightly before, it tumbled into him doing so as well.

Collapsing on top of you, he turns and kisses all ovver the side of your face quicky.

“Mwah!mwah!mwah!” He says as he does so.

You laugh and ghost your fingernails over his shoulder blades.

“You’re so stupid issei.” It’s a followed by a soft giggle.

“Whatever. You’re the stupid one.”

“What?! How?!”

He looks at you raising a brow.

“Sneaking out? Partying? Failing your classes? All because I went off to school and you thought i’d meet another girl? That’s stupid.”

“Whatever…”

“You know I’m right.”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

8 months later

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

“Are you excited to start university?” Hiro’s voice chirps at you from across the room.

“Yes! I’m happy i got into the same one as you and Su-su.” You beam at him.

“Yeah. Matsukawa won’t shut the hell up about it,” his eyes roll. “And just so you know. You will not be taking over our dorm.”

“Whatever Hiro.” Your eyes roll and your smile is now replaced with a scowl.

“Hey, hey, you two! Calm down. Y/n’s parents actually love her and so she has her own dorm like a damn brat.” Oikawa’s voice now interrupts you and Hiro making faces and flipping each other off.

“I am not a brat!” Your tone is whiney, like a toddler throwing a fit.

“Loud and wrong.” Iwa’s voice is harsh and cold, but you know he’s just poking some fun at you.

“Leave her alone! Just because our parents didn’t want to pay thousands extra for us to have our own rooms doesn’t make her a brat!” Your, now, boyfriend Mattsun says, approaching behind you.

“Issei don’t be sarcastic! I’ll have you guys know my parents only did it because i finished with perfect marks in school. So it’s my reward.” You cross your arms, huffing and looking away from the four boys who are all gathered in your room, helping you pack for college.

Hiro puts on a fake frilly posh accent, “my daddy says because i did a good job he’s going to buy me a Mercedes!”

“Shut up Hiro!” You holler.

The boys are all snickering at your annoyance.

“All right, all right, our bad.” Iwaizumi huffs out and uses his hands to motion for everyone to calm down.

“Now on to more pressing matters,” Oikawa speaks. “Care to explain why these are in your dresser drawer y/n?” He now reveals a box of condoms.

You feel your heart drop to your feet, then a sudden need to defend yourself comes over you.

“Why are you opening my underwear drawer?” You point at him.

His face drops.

All the boys are now giving him blank stares, waiting to see what he says.

“You told me to empty them out! I didnt know it was your underwear drawer. But when i opened it these were on top!”

You roll your eyes.

“Perv.” You scoff turning away to resume filling the box you had with your belongings.

“Whatever. Answer the question.” Oikawa says.

“It’s pretty self explanatory.”

“Yeah but these are magnums.”

“Ok? We already had this conversation last year at Issei’s.”

“Uhhh, nuh uh!,” oikawa wags his finger back and forth. “We had they hypothesis it wouldn’t work. Thats what we talked about.”

“Tooru..” Issei now interjects. It’s a warning to him to stop having this conversation.

Oikawa doesn’t listen.

“So?”

“So what?” You sneer.

“Does it?”

“Barely! There! Are you happy?” You are obviously exasperated at the fact you had to answer or deal with Oikawa never leaving you alone about it.

‘Ayeeee’s and a ‘my boy!’ Fill your room for a moment.

You walk over and snatch the box from Oikawas hands.

“Asshole.”

He sticks his tongue out at your reply.

Issei moves forwards and wraps his arm around your waist, his other reaching around to grab the box out of your hands.

“I’ll take that!” He says with a smile and kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” A faint blush dusts your face, and a small smile, despite your annoyed tone.

Issei can tell you’re not mad.

“You know you love me.” He says, a smirk on his face.

“Unfortunately.” You now deadpan out to him.

Masterlist

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thevoidstaredback · 5 months ago

Text

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

They had planned to leave before Bruce got back to the Manor, but plans change all the time and it wasn't Danny's fault!

Alfred had invited a friend of Dick's, Barbra Gordon, to the Manor for dinner, meaning that Dick had to stay if he wanted to see her. And since Dick was staying, Danny was staying. Tim wasn't about to leave Danny to Bruce's mercy, so he was staying for dinner, too.

Bruce Wayne arrived at Wayne Manor exactly three and a half minutes after six in the evening. He entered the kitchen exactly ten minutes and five seconds after that.

The air was tense.

Dick had been tense since Danny first roped him into coming to Gotham, only getting worse as they got closer to the building they were now sitting in. Now that Bruce and Dick were in the same room, it was like the rope had frayed to the point of snapping with a light breeze.

Bruce sat at the head of the table with Tim to his left and down a chair. Dick sat at the foot of the table, Barbra sitting to his immediate right. Danny sat on the unoccupied side of the table, directly in the middle.

No one was saying a word.

Danny was on edge.

Finally, "Dick," Bruce said.

"Bruce," was the response.

As if the spell had been broken, though the awkwardness remained, Barbra cleared her throat and said, "It's good to have you back in Gotham, D."

Dick smiled at her, soft and happy and relieved. "It's good to see you, Babs. How've you been?"

"The same as usual. Though, Condiment King again!" She glared when Dick started laughing. "Yeah, sure, laugh it up, Wonder Boy. It took three hours to get that mustard out of my costume! It's easier to get blood out of white carpets-!"

Bruce pointedly cleared his throat, bringing all attention to him. "As good as it is to see you, Dick, who've you brought with you?"

Barbra flinched back slightly, having forgotten Danny was even there. Oops.

Danny grinned at Bruce, hiding his nerves behind his favorite fake-it-'til-you-make-it smile. "My name's Danny, it's nice to meet you Mister Wayne! I have to say, you're a lot less smiley in person than you are on the internet."

He hummed. "I apologize. Today's been an off day."

"No need," Danny waved off politely, "I get it."

"I have to say, Daniel-"

"'Danny', please. My name's Danny."

To his credit, Bruce didn't even skip a beat. "Then, call me Bruce. I must say that I didn't expect Dick to have taken anyone in."

Danny chuckled a bit. "I think it's less of him taking me in and more of me kind of letting myself into his house."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I noticed he wasn't doing too well, so I figured I'd step in to help where I could before he got himself hurt." 'Or worse' was heavily implied. "I imagine Tim did much the same with you?"

Tim stiffened as Bruce sighed. Well, that's not a good sign.

"Yes, though Tim doesn't live here."

"He has a room, though, right?"

"Of course."

"Good. I can't imagine having to travel with the kind of injuries you guys get at night is very fun." Here, he turned and looked Barbra in the eye. "Honestly, you deserve a prize for traveling from here to wherever you live after getting injured."

Barbra smiled sheepishly, "Thanks? I don't really come here, though. Only on occasion."

Bruce interrupted before the conversation could continue, "What do you mean? Dick's the only one of us who could possibly get hurt on the job." He shook his head. "Honestly, why did you ever join the BHPD? It's too dangerous."

Oh, Danny had to put a stop to that right away!

"Sorry, to jump in here, Mister Wayne, but I know what all of you moonlight as." He ignored Bruce's narrowed, sharp glare. "You're Batman, Dick is Nightwing, Tim is Robin, meaning that Barbra has to be Batgirl and, if I'm right, Oracle."

"Who are you?" Bruce demanded. He didn't ask because asking is for people who aren't paranoid enough to have six levels of security at the front gate alone.

"I just told you: Danny." He unflinchingly met Bruce's glare. "Not good enough for you? I'm Danny, personal caretaker of vigilantes who refuse to take care of themselves, bookkeeper, cook, unlicensed medical unprofessional, et cetera. Though, don't call me a therapist because that's my sister. Is that a better answer?"

Bruce hummed.

The meal itself was somehow even worse than before Alfred had brought out the food. Glares were being thrown and concerned glances shared. It made the food taste bad, which was probably a war crime.

Danny had been raised with manners, so he'd thanked Alfred for making dinner. He even offered to help with clean up, though he backed down when he was refused. He knows better.

After dinner, the group had gone back into the very same drawing room as before. Dick and Barbra cuddled together on the couch, Bruce and Tim took the two armchairs, and Danny sat on the floor in front of the now lit fireplace.

"So, Tim," Danny started, "You working on any interesting cases?"

Tim seemed to perk up a bit. "Yeah, actually. It's a murder-"

"We're not at liberty to discuss anything with you, Daniel." Bruce's voice was gravely, almost the voice he used as Batman, as he spoke over Tim.

Danny's eyes narrowed. "I believe I told you my name is 'Danny', not 'Daniel'."

"Well, seeing as I don't actually know you, and you have offered up no sir name, I'll stick with calling you whatever I'm comfortable with, especially in my own home."

"This isn't a fight you wanna pick, Mister Wayne. You might want to rethink your choice."

"I am well aware of what battles to fight. However, you're mistaken. This isn't a battle. I'm merely stating that I will be calling you 'Daniel' until you offer up your sir name to be called by."

Danny very obviously looked Bruce up and down. "I guess my parents were right; You can't ever believe everything you read on the internet."

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

"Because you, Mister Wayne, are horrible with children."

The temperature in the room dropped. Bruce's glare hardened even more. He appraised Danny, assessing him and filing away everything he could find. "Speaking to me like that in my own home is quite the move."

"Are you threatening me, Mister Wayne?"

"Not at all," he denied. "What are you really doing here, Dick?"

"I wanted to come meet Tim," Dick lied.

"Don't lie to me."

"What, I can't even come meet your newest Robin?"

"After the way you treated Jason?"

Dick stood quickly, Barbra scrambling to her feet. "After the way I-! You're the one who let him put on my old uniform!"

Bruce stood to his full height, looking down on Dick. "Me? You barely even talked to him! I spent as much time as I could with him!"

Danny blocked out the already out of hand yelling match and grabbed Barbra's and Tim's hands, leading them out of the room. This was not how he was hoping this would go at all.

He could still hear the yelling, even in the foyer.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to Tim and Barbra, "I didn't expect this to happen."

"It's alright," Barbra said, flinching when she realized that she could hear both men's voices almost clearly.

"No, it's not. I dragged Dick here to apologize to Tim. We were supposed to leave before Bruce even left Wayne Enterprises."

Tim shook his head. "We should've anticipated something like this would happen."

"Yeah..."

The three sat together on the steps, Bruce and Dick's voices carrying through the wood and marble.

"Hey," Barbra said after a few minutes, "How do you know about the Cave being under the Manor?"

Danny blinked at her before turning to Tim. "There's a cave under the Manor?!" He glared playfully at his friend. "You didn't tell me that your base of operations is a cave under Wayne Manor!"

"If it makes you feel any better," Tim offered, "Dick named it the Bat Cave."

"It's called the Bat Cave!?"

Part 12 Part 14

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imreidswifey · 18 days ago

Text

The Profiler’s Heart -S.Reid Fanfic-

Words: 20k+

Summary: The Profiler’s Heart, is a heartfelt romance with Dr. Spencer Reid, the brilliant yet socially awkward FBI agent from Criminal Minds. What begins as a simple, chance encounter at a local coffee shop transforms into a deep and transformative relationship. Over time, Spencer slowly lets you into his world, keeping his newfound happiness a secret from his team as he struggles with his own vulnerabilities.

A/n: As you may have noticed I have not been posting as much because I have been working on this!! It is a very long read so get comfortable (Around 20k+ words)

Warnings:

Mental Health Themes, Trauma & Emotional Struggles, Mature Themes & Emotional Content, Slow Burn Romance, Spoilers for Criminal Minds, Language: The story includes some strong language and emotional intensity in dialogue, Romantic Relationship Dynamics, Slow Development.

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The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you pushed open the door to your favorite coffee shop, the bell above jingling softly. It was a small, cozy space, tucked away on a quiet street—a haven for anyone seeking a little peace. You’d been coming here for months, drawn to the warm lighting, mismatched chairs, and the faint hum of classical music playing in the background. Today was no different. You approached the counter, exchanging a quick smile with the barista as you placed your usual order, then made your way to your favorite seat by the window.

You had just settled in with a book when you noticed him walk in. He wasn’t entirely new to the coffee shop—you’d seen him a few times before—but he always seemed to come and go without much interaction. He was tall and lanky, his slightly unkempt hair giving him an air of quiet distraction. Today, he looked even more out of place than usual, wearing a sweater vest over a button-down shirt and a tie that seemed just slightly too tight. As he reached the counter, he fumbled briefly with his wallet before ordering in a low, hesitant voice.

“Black coffee, no sugar.”

He stood awkwardly while waiting for his drink, his gaze darting around the room before landing on your table. The coffee shop was unusually crowded today, and there weren’t many seats left. When his coffee arrived, he hesitated for a moment, then approached your table, holding his cup with both hands as though it might steady him.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the chatter around you. “Is this seat taken?”

You shook your head, offering a polite smile. “Not at all. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, lowering himself into the chair across from you.

He placed his coffee on the table and pulled a thick book from his bag. You tried not to stare, but the title caught your eye—An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.

“Light reading?” you asked, tilting your head toward the book.

He glanced up, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Adam Smith is… surprisingly engaging,” he replied, his tone measured and deliberate.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to describe it. Most people would’ve gone with ‘dense’ or ‘impenetrable.’”

His smile widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for. It’s fascinating when you think about how his ideas laid the foundation for modern economics.”

“True,” you conceded, closing your own book and leaning forward slightly. “But do you ever read anything just for fun?”

He hesitated, as though the question caught him off guard. “I do,” he said after a moment, though his tone carried a hint of defensiveness. “But I suppose my idea of fun might be… unconventional.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Don’t worry. I’m not judging. I mean, I’m sitting here reading 19th-century poetry for fun, so I’m probably not one to talk.”

His gaze flicked to the cover of your book, and he nodded appreciatively. “Emily Dickinson. Her work is deceptively simple but incredibly profound.”

“You’re a fan?” you asked, surprised.

“Of her conciseness, yes. She had a remarkable ability to convey complex ideas with very few words,” he said, then added, almost shyly, “Though I can’t say I’ve read all of her work. There are still… gaps in my literary knowledge.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke—thoughtful, deliberate, as though each word had been carefully chosen. It wasn’t the kind of conversation you were used to having with strangers in coffee shops, but there was something refreshing about it.

For the next half hour, the two of you exchanged snippets of conversation between sips of coffee and moments of quiet reading. You learned that his name was Spencer and that he worked in a field he described only as “challenging.” He asked about your interests with genuine curiosity, his sharp mind evident in the way he seemed to absorb every detail you shared.

When it was time for you to leave, you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say anything. In the end, you simply stood, offering him a small smile. “It was nice talking to you, Spencer. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He looked up from his book, his expression softening. “Likewise. And… thank you for letting me sit here.”

You nodded and walked away, feeling an inexplicable sense of warmth. As you stepped outside, you glanced back through the window and saw him watching you, his book forgotten on the table.

You didn’t know it yet, but that moment was the beginning of something that would soon become a part of your routine—and, eventually, your life.

The coffee shop was quieter today, the usual mid-morning rush giving way to a lull that left most of the tables empty. You had claimed your usual spot by the window, your coffee steaming gently on the table, and a fresh novel open in your hands. You weren’t expecting to see him again so soon, but as the door jingled softly, you looked up instinctively.

There he was.

Spencer walked in with the same slightly awkward air, his satchel slung over his shoulder and his tie slightly askew. This time, though, he spotted you almost immediately. His gaze lingered for a moment, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he moved to the counter to place his order.

“Black coffee, no sugar,” he murmured, just loud enough for the barista to hear.

You went back to your book, though your focus wavered slightly. When he approached your table, coffee in hand, you glanced up again.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his tone polite but hesitant.

You gestured to the empty seat with a smile. “Not at all. Looks like it’s becoming a habit.”

He sat down carefully, placing his coffee on the table and pulling a notebook from his bag. The book from last time was absent, but he seemed just as engrossed in whatever he was working on. For a few minutes, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the faint rustle of paper and the clink of ceramic mugs.

It was Spencer who broke the silence first. “What are you reading today?”

You held up the cover for him to see. “It’s a mystery novel. Nothing as dense as Adam Smith, but it’s a fun read.”

He tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Mystery novels are interesting. They rely on a careful balance of misdirection and logic. Do you prefer ones with a twist ending or ones where you can solve the puzzle before the protagonist does?”

You considered the question for a moment. “I like the ones that make you think you’ve figured it out, only to completely surprise you in the last chapter. Keeps things exciting.”

He nodded, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his coffee cup. “The element of surprise is important, but so is fairness. A good mystery should give you all the clues—you just have to know how to interpret them.”

“Is that something you’ve studied?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.

He hesitated, his expression shifting as though he were carefully choosing his words. “In a way. My work involves… patterns, logic, and deduction. It’s not exactly the same as a mystery novel, but there are parallels.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That sounds fascinating. What do you do, exactly?”

He hesitated again, glancing down at his notebook as if it held the answer. “I work for the FBI,” he said finally. “In the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s incredible. You’re a profiler, then?”

He gave a small nod, his expression modest. “Yes. We analyze criminal behavior to help solve cases. It’s… challenging, but rewarding.”

“That sounds like the kind of job that would keep you up at night,” you said, your tone curious but gentle.

He gave a faint smile, his gaze distant. “It does, sometimes. But it also gives me a chance to help people, which makes it worth it.”

There was a quiet intensity in his voice that made you pause. It was clear that his work was more than just a job to him—it was something deeply personal.

“Sounds like you’re pretty good at it,” you said softly.

He looked up, startled, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “I… try to be.”

The conversation drifted after that, touching on lighter topics. He asked about your work, genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found yourself sharing more than you expected. There was something disarming about his quiet attention, the way he seemed to hang on every word.

Before long, an hour had passed, and you realized with a start that you needed to get going.

“I should probably head out,” you said, gathering your things. “But this was nice. I’m glad we got to talk again.”

Spencer nodded, his expression softening. “Me too. And… thank you for letting me sit here.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Besides, I’m starting to think you’re better company than I expected.”

A faint blush crept up his neck, but he didn’t look away. “I’ll… see you around, then?”

“Definitely,” you said, giving him a small wave before heading out the door.

As you walked down the street, you couldn’t help but feel lighter somehow, as though the conversation had brightened your day in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Back at the coffee shop, Spencer sat for a moment, staring at the empty seat across from him. He pulled out his notebook and jotted something down—a brief note in his neat, precise handwriting.

For the rest of the day, he carried that moment with him, and though he didn’t say a word about it to anyone, his coworkers at the BAU couldn’t help but notice the faint smile that lingered on his face.

It was raining the next time you saw Spencer, a steady drizzle that painted the streets in a muted haze. The coffee shop was busier than usual, filled with people seeking shelter from the weather, and the hum of conversation blended with the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. You were perched at your usual table, a warm mug in your hands, when the door jingled and Spencer walked in, shaking droplets from his hair.

He scanned the room, his gaze landing on you almost immediately. You raised a hand in a small wave, and his lips curved into a soft smile as he made his way over.

“Crowded today,” he remarked, his voice low but warm as he slipped into the seat across from you.

“Seems like everyone had the same idea,” you replied, gesturing toward the line snaking its way to the counter. “You might be waiting a while for your coffee.”

He glanced at the line, then back at you. “That’s all right. I’m in no hurry.”

There was an ease to his presence now that hadn’t been there before, a quiet comfort that made you smile. Over the past few weeks, your conversations had become more frequent, the once-occasional meetings in the coffee shop turning into something you both seemed to look forward to.

“Working on anything interesting today?” you asked, nodding toward the notebook he’d pulled from his bag.

Spencer opened it carefully, revealing pages filled with neat, precise handwriting and diagrams that looked more like they belonged in a science journal than a coffee shop. “Just some notes,” he said, brushing his fingers over the edge of the paper. “It helps me organize my thoughts.”

“Mind if I take a look?” you asked, intrigued.

He hesitated for a moment before sliding the notebook across the table. You skimmed the page, your brow furrowing as you tried to make sense of the densely packed information.

“This… is definitely not light reading,” you said with a laugh, handing it back to him. “Is this for work?”

“In a way,” he said, tucking the notebook back into his bag. “I like to stay ahead, so I do a lot of independent research. It helps when I’m working on particularly complicated cases.”

You nodded, impressed. “You really don’t stop, do you?”

Spencer looked at you, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose not. But I enjoy it. There’s always more to learn, and I find comfort in that.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause. There was a vulnerability beneath his words, a quiet admission that spoke to the way his mind worked—always racing, always searching for answers.

“Well, if you ever need a break from all that learning,” you said lightly, “you know where to find me.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The line at the counter finally thinned, and Spencer stood to get his coffee. When he returned, he carried two cups instead of one, placing one in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“I noticed you were almost out,” he said, gesturing toward your empty mug.

You blinked, surprised. “Thank you, Spencer. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, his cheeks faintly pink. “It’s nothing. Consider it a… small token of appreciation.”

“For what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“For… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the table. “Talking. Listening. It’s nice.”

You smiled, touched by his sincerity. “It is. I’m glad we met.”

For the next hour, the two of you fell into easy conversation, your voices weaving through the ambient noise of the coffee shop. Spencer told you about his love of obscure trivia and his penchant for collecting rare books, and you shared stories from your own life, finding common ground in unexpected places.

At one point, he hesitated, glancing down at his coffee cup as though gathering his thoughts. “Would you… be interested in going to the museum sometime?” he asked, his tone careful but hopeful.

You tilted your head, surprised but pleased. “I’d love to. Which one?”

“There’s an exhibit on mathematical paradoxes opening this weekend,” he said, his enthusiasm breaking through his usual reserved demeanor. “It’s fascinating how something can appear contradictory but still hold a deeper truth.”

His excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

The smile that spread across his face was unguarded, and you realized then how rare it was to see him so openly happy. It was a side of him you hoped to see more of, and as the rain continued to fall outside, you felt a quiet certainty that this was the beginning of something special.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer carried that same certainty with him when he left the coffee shop that day. For the first time in a long while, he found himself looking forward to something outside of work, and though he kept his happiness tucked away like a secret, it shone through in small, quiet ways that didn’t go unnoticed.

At the BAU, Penelope Garcia was the first to comment on the change.

“Spence, you’ve been smiling more lately,” she said one afternoon, leaning against his desk with a knowing look. “Something you want to share?”

He shook his head, his ears turning pink as he focused intently on the file in front of him. “Nothing in particular,” he murmured, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that didn’t escape her sharp eyes.

“Uh-huh,” she said, narrowing her gaze. “We’ll see about that.”

Spencer didn’t respond, but as Penelope walked away, he allowed himself the smallest of smiles, his thoughts drifting back to you and the quiet joy you’d brought into his life.

The BAU was a place where secrets rarely lasted long. The team’s job, after all, was to dissect behavior and unravel mysteries. As close-knit as they were, each member had an uncanny ability to notice even the smallest shift in one another’s routines. It was only a matter of time before they turned their collective attention to Spencer Reid.

It started with little things.

“Is it just me,” Penelope Garcia mused one morning, leaning dramatically against Derek Morgan’s desk, “or is our resident genius unusually… chipper lately?”

Morgan looked up from his case file, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “C’mon, Baby Girl. Reid’s always in his own world. What are you noticing?”

Penelope gestured emphatically with her glittery pen. “He’s been smiling. Like, actual smiles. And—get this—he whistled in the break room yesterday. Whistled!”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Whistling’s a crime now?”

“No, Derek,” she said with mock exasperation. “But it’s unusual for our dear Doctor Reid. He’s not exactly the whistling type. Something’s up. I can feel it.”

David Rossi, who had been quietly listening from his desk nearby, chimed in. “It’s true. Kid’s been humming, too. I caught him doing it while going through the case files last night.”

Emily Prentiss joined them, holding a mug of coffee and looking intrigued. “Wait. Reid? Humming? What’s next—Reid cracking jokes?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Rossi said with a smirk. “Mark my words: there’s something—or someone—making him happy.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up at the possibility. “Someone? Oh, now this is interesting. What if he’s secretly dating someone and didn’t tell us?”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Just because he’s smiling doesn’t mean he’s got a secret girlfriend.”

Penelope crossed her arms. “Oh, you think so? Then how do you explain the sudden wardrobe upgrade? He wore matching socks two days in a row last week. That’s not a coincidence.”

Emily snorted into her coffee. “Matching socks are the evidence we’re going with?”

“I have my methods,” Penelope said dramatically. “And my gut is never wrong. I’m telling you, there’s a mystery here, and I am determined to solve it.”

Rossi leaned back, a knowing look on his face. “Whatever it is, let him have his secret—for now. If it’s important, he’ll tell us.”

But Penelope wasn’t about to let it go that easily.

Meanwhile, Spencer was doing everything he could to keep his private life private.

He’d always been meticulous about compartmentalizing his personal and professional worlds, but ever since he’d started spending more time with you, it had become harder to maintain the separation. The team’s inquisitive glances and subtle comments hadn’t escaped his notice, and it was making him increasingly anxious.

During lunch in the break room, JJ sat down beside him, her expression casual but her tone careful. “So, Spence. Anything new going on in your life?”

He froze for a split second, his fork hovering over his salad. “Uh… no. Not really.”

“Nothing at all?” she pressed gently.

“Nope. Just the usual,” he said quickly, focusing intently on his food.

JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. She exchanged a look with Emily across the room, who gave her a subtle nod.

Spencer knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

That evening, after a long day at work, Spencer met you at the coffee shop where it had all started. You were already seated at your usual table, a warm smile lighting up your face when you saw him.

“Hey, you,” you greeted as he slid into the seat across from you.

“Hi,” he said, his expression softening in your presence.

But you could tell something was bothering him. His brow was furrowed, and he kept fidgeting with the edge of his coffee cup.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently.

He hesitated, then sighed. “It’s my team. They’re starting to notice… changes in my behavior. Penelope, especially. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to figuring things out.”

You tilted your head, concerned. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just… they’ll want to meet you. And once they do, they’ll start meddling. They mean well, but they can be… overwhelming.”

You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours. “I get it, Spencer. They’re your family, and you want to protect this part of your life for a little while longer. But…”

“But?” he prompted, his eyes searching yours.

“But maybe letting them in wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you said softly. “From what you’ve told me, they sound like amazing people who care about you. I’d love to meet them someday—when you’re ready.”

He looked down at your hand on his, his expression conflicted. “What if they start analyzing us? Or worse, what if they don’t think I’m… good enough for you?”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “First of all, you’re more than good enough. And second, I can handle a little scrutiny if it means being part of your life in every way. Besides, I think they’d like me.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They’d more than like you. They’d adore you.”

“Then what are you so worried about?” you teased gently.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I guess… I’m just not used to sharing this part of my life with anyone. It’s new for me.”

“It’s new for me, too,” you admitted. “But we’re figuring it out together, right?”

“Right,” he said, his smile growing.

At the BAU the next day, Penelope was on a mission.

She cornered Morgan in the bullpen, her eyes gleaming with determination. “I’ve been doing some digging, and I think I’m onto something.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Digging? Garcia, you didn’t—”

“Relax,” she said, waving a hand. “I didn’t hack anything. I’m just observing. And based on my observations, Reid is definitely hiding something—or someone.”

“What makes you so sure?” Morgan asked, crossing his arms.

“He’s been leaving earlier than usual, taking lunch breaks outside the office, and—get this��he turned down a weekend trivia marathon to ‘run errands.’ Who turns down trivia, Derek?”

“Okay, you might have a point,” Morgan admitted, though he still looked skeptical. “But if the kid’s got a secret girlfriend, don’t you think he’d tell us eventually?”

Penelope sighed dramatically. “Eventually? Do you know how long eventually could take with Reid? We could all be retired by then!”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “All right, fine. Keep sleuthing. But don’t push him too hard. The kid’s entitled to his privacy.”

Penelope grinned. “Oh, I’ll be subtle. Like a ninja.”

Morgan muttered under his breath, “Subtle is not in your vocabulary.”

That evening, Spencer found himself staring at his phone, your encouraging words from the night before echoing in his mind. He knew you were right—his team was his family, and they deserved to know about you. But the thought of their teasing, their endless questions, and their well-meaning meddling made his stomach twist.

After a few moments of hesitation, he opened the group chat.

Spencer: Can we all meet for dinner tomorrow? My treat. There’s something I’d like to share.

The replies came almost instantly.

Garcia: OMG, yes! Is this about what I think it’s about???

Morgan: I’m in. But if it’s not about what she thinks it’s about, you’re buying dessert too.

JJ: Sounds great, Spence. Can’t wait!

Prentiss: This better be good. Rossi and I are skipping wine night for this.

Spencer sighed, already regretting his decision, but there was no turning back now.

The next day, as the team gathered at a cozy Italian restaurant, Spencer felt his nerves building with every passing minute. But then he thought of you—your steady reassurance, your warm smile—and it gave him the courage he needed.

“Okay, Reid,” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been acting all secretive for weeks. Spill it.”

Spencer took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the table. “There’s… someone I’d like you all to meet. Someone important to me.”

The table fell silent for a moment, and then Penelope let out an excited squeal. “I knew it!”

Spencer winced but pressed on. “Her name is [Your Name]. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, and… well, she means a lot to me.”

JJ smiled warmly. “Spence, that’s wonderful. We’re so happy for you.”

“Yeah, kid,” Morgan added, grinning. “It’s about time you found someone who makes you smile like that.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, his cheeks turning pink. “I just… I wanted you all to know. And she’d like to meet you, too.”

Penelope clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with excitement. “When? Where? I need details!”

“Soon,” Spencer said, his smile growing despite himself. “But… promise me you’ll go easy on her.”

“No promises,” Rossi said with a smirk, raising his glass in a toast. “To Reid and [Your Name]. May we get to meet her soon—and may she survive this group.”

Laughter erupted around the table, and for the first time, Spencer felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain: with you by

The day had arrived, and Spencer was pacing his apartment like a man preparing for battle. He had gone over every possible scenario in his mind: what his team might say, how you might respond, and how much teasing he would inevitably endure. Despite your reassurances that everything would be fine, his anxiety hummed like static in the background.

“Spencer,” you said gently, stepping into his path and placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Take a deep breath.”

He halted mid-step, looking down at you with wide, nervous eyes. “What if they don’t like you?”

You smiled softly. “Then they’d be the first people in your life to have terrible judgment.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “You don’t know them like I do. They’re going to analyze everything. And Penelope… she’s going to want to know everything about you.”

“Good,” you said, squeezing his arm. “I’m an open book. Besides, it sounds like she already likes me, and she hasn’t even met me yet.”

Spencer hesitated, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m overthinking this.”

“You? Overthinking? Never,” you teased, earning a small smile from him. “Come on, Spencer. Let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can stop worrying.”

The restaurant Spencer had chosen was cozy and unassuming, with warm lighting and a menu that promised hearty Italian fare. You arrived hand in hand, his grip tightening slightly as you walked through the door.

“Over here!” Penelope’s cheerful voice rang out, and you turned to see her waving enthusiastically from a large round table in the corner. The rest of the team was already seated—Derek, JJ, Emily, Rossi, and Aaron Hotchner, all watching your approach with varying degrees of curiosity.

“Hi, everyone,” Spencer said, his voice quieter than usual. “This is [Your Name].”

You offered a warm smile, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as six pairs of eyes turned to you. “Hi. It’s so nice to finally meet all of you.”

Penelope was the first to react, jumping up from her seat and pulling you into a hug before you could blink. “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you! I’ve been dying to know who’s responsible for putting that adorable smile on our boy genius’s face.”

“Uh, thank you,” you managed, laughing as you hugged her back. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

When Penelope finally released you, Derek stood, his expression warm and teasing. “So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Reid all to yourself. I’m Derek Morgan. You ever need anything—or if he ever gets on your nerves—you call me.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek,” you said, shaking his hand. “And don’t worry, Spencer’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“Of course he has,” Derek said with a wink. “The kid’s a saint.”

The introductions continued around the table, each team member greeting you with a mix of curiosity and warmth. JJ’s smile was kind and welcoming as she shared stories about Spencer’s quirks, while Emily’s dry humor had you laughing within minutes. Rossi was effortlessly charming, offering you a wine recommendation before the server even approached.

And then there was Hotch.

He was quieter than the others, his expression measured as he shook your hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said simply, but there was something in his steady gaze that felt like approval.

As the dinner progressed, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how much this group felt like a family. They teased each other mercilessly, but the underlying affection was unmistakable.

“So,” Penelope began, leaning forward with her chin propped on her hand. “How did you two meet? Was it one of those adorable movie moments where you bumped into each other and spilled coffee everywhere?”

“Not quite,” you said, glancing at Spencer, whose cheeks had turned pink. “We met at a coffee shop, though. He was sitting in the corner reading a book, and I… well, I couldn’t help but say hi.”

“Classic Reid,” Emily said, smirking. “Always with his nose in a book.”

“Hey,” Spencer protested weakly, earning a round of laughter.

“It worked out, though,” you said, smiling at him. “Because he said hi back.”

“And the rest is history,” JJ said warmly.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself feeling more at ease. Penelope’s bubbly energy was infectious, and Derek’s playful jabs at Spencer had you laughing until your sides ached. Even Rossi, with his sharp wit, made you feel welcome, sharing anecdotes about Spencer’s early days in the BAU.

But it was Hotch’s quiet observation that stuck with you the most.

“You make him happy,” he said simply when the others were distracted by a debate about dessert.

You glanced at Spencer, who was laughing at something Derek had said. “He makes me happy too.”

Hotch nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “Good. He deserves that.”

By the time dinner ended, you felt like you’d known Spencer’s team for years. They walked you to the door of the restaurant, Derek and Penelope insisting on giving you a round of hugs before you left.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Penelope said. “We expect you to join us for trivia night sometime.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling.

As you and Spencer walked to the car, his hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt easy and natural.

“Well?” you asked, glancing at him. “How do you think it went?”

“I think it went… really well,” he said, his voice tinged with relief. “They love you.”

“And I love them,” you said sincerely. “They’re amazing, Spencer. It’s no wonder you consider them family.”

He smiled, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “Thank you for doing this. I know it wasn’t exactly a quiet night out.”

“It was perfect,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walked. “And now I understand why you were so nervous. They’re protective of you, but it’s only because they care.”

“They do care,” he agreed. “But I care about you, too. And seeing you with them tonight… it just felt right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and when you reached the car, you turned to him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. “I’m glad we did this, Spencer. You don’t have to keep parts of your life separate anymore—not with me, and not with them.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. And I’m grateful for that. For you.”

As the two of you drove home, the city lights blurring in the distance, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of contentment. You had taken another step forward together, and as you glanced at Spencer, who was humming softly along to the radio, you knew that this was just the beginning of the many adventures yet to come.

The case had hit Spencer harder than he had anticipated. It wasn’t the nature of the crime—it wasn’t even the investigation itself that had him on edge. It was the familiar feeling of helplessness, the weight of memories he had long buried surfacing unexpectedly. The case involved a series of abductions, and the helplessness of the victims—who had been taken from their homes, without a trace—was something Spencer couldn’t ignore. It brought back too many painful memories of the time when he had been kidnapped, the hours that had stretched endlessly as he fought to stay alive. It wasn’t the first time a case had triggered his trauma, but something about this one felt more personal. The terror in the victims’ eyes, the hopelessness in their families, was too close to home.

He had been quiet all day, retreating inwardly, the weight of his thoughts dragging him into himself. His usual sarcasm and jokes were absent, and his responses to questions were short and distant. Spencer wasn’t the type to show weakness, especially in front of his team, but anyone who knew him well could sense the shift. Penelope had been the first to notice, giving him a concerned look across the room as he sat staring blankly at his computer screen. Derek, always the observant one, had seen it too.

It wasn’t long before Spencer excused himself, claiming to need a break from the team’s discussions. He knew they’d want to talk about the case—everyone was anxious to make progress—but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t give them what they needed. Not now.

You had been waiting for Spencer at home, preparing dinner when he texted you that he would be late. You knew the team had been working a difficult case, but you hadn’t anticipated how much it would affect him. As you set the table, your thoughts turned to Spencer. Lately, you had noticed that he seemed more closed off than usual. He had always been a bit reserved, but it felt different now. More distant. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering him, but you didn’t know how to help. You had tried talking to him a few times, but he always brushed you off with a smile or a joke.

When Spencer arrived home, it was later than usual. He walked through the door, his shoulders slumped, his usual energetic stride replaced by a slow, weary gait. You had been waiting in the living room, a quiet concern in your chest as you stood to greet him.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice gentle.

Spencer didn’t immediately respond, his eyes lost in thought as he dropped his bag on the floor and hung his coat. You could see the exhaustion in his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

“Spencer?” you said again, a little softer this time, stepping closer to him.

He finally met your gaze, his eyes glassy, though he quickly tried to mask the vulnerability behind a forced smile. “I’m fine,” he said, though the lie was evident.

You stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm, offering him the comfort you knew he needed, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. “Spence, you don’t have to hide it from me. What’s going on?”

His eyes flickered away from yours, and for a moment, he seemed like he might retreat into his usual defenses. But then, without warning, he let out a long breath, the weight of the day settling on him. “I… I’m not sure I can handle this case. It’s bringing up too much. Too many memories I’ve tried to forget.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. Spencer’s past, his time being held captive, his struggles with addiction, and the emotional toll of the job—it was a lot for anyone to carry. You had seen glimpses of it in the months you had been together, but he had always kept the more painful pieces of himself hidden, buried beneath his intellectual armor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

Spencer’s eyes briefly flickered to yours, as if measuring how much he was willing to share. After a moment of silence, he sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he murmured, voice breaking ever so slightly. “I just… I feel like I’m reliving it. The helplessness. The fear. It’s all coming back, and I can’t stop it.”

Your heart ached for him, but you remained quiet, giving him the space to continue.

“I thought I was over it,” he said, his voice quieter now, vulnerable in a way you had never heard before. “I thought I had it all under control. But this case… it’s like it’s ripping open old wounds I never knew were still there.”

You took a step closer, gently placing your hand on his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to carry this burden on your own.”

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems. You deserve someone who isn’t broken.”

Your heart swelled with emotion at his words. “You’re not broken, Spencer. You’re human. You’ve been through so much, and it’s okay to feel all of it. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here, no matter what you’re going through.”

He let out a shaky breath, the weight of his emotions beginning to show on his face. Spencer had always been the one to hold it together, to be the strong one for everyone else. But in this moment, you could see that he was human, too, and that he needed someone to lean on just as much as the rest of them did.

“Tell me what you need,” you whispered, cupping his cheek gently. “Let me help you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, searching your face as though looking for something. Maybe reassurance. Maybe understanding. Maybe even permission. “Just… stay with me,” he whispered. “Stay with me while I try to make sense of it. I don’t know how to handle this, but I don’t want to be alone.”

You nodded immediately, pulling him into an embrace. Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the full weight of his exhaustion. He didn’t have to say another word. You could feel the turmoil within him, the fear, the confusion, and the deep sadness that clung to him like a shadow. And as you held him close, you knew you would be the steady presence he needed to get through it.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you murmured into his hair, your voice steady. “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. You simply held each other, letting the silence comfort you both. Spencer’s breathing began to slow as he relaxed into your embrace, but you could feel the tension in his body—the tightness of unresolved emotions still lurking beneath the surface.

After what felt like an eternity, Spencer pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know what to do with all this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to let it go.”

“You don’t have to let it go,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You just have to process it. And I’ll help you. We’ll do it together, okay?”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “Okay.”

Over the next few days, Spencer allowed himself to lean on you in ways he hadn’t before. He didn’t bury his emotions as deep, didn’t retreat into the quiet isolation that had once been his defense mechanism. You were there, offering him space to talk when he needed it, and offering silence when that was what he craved. You didn’t push him to get over it, didn’t try to fix him. You simply gave him the one thing he had needed all along: your presence, your unwavering support.

And slowly, he began to open up. He talked more about his past—the things he had never shared, the things he had never wanted to confront. He spoke about his time in captivity, the moments that still haunted him, and the way it had affected the person he had become. He spoke about his mother, his struggles with addiction, and how he sometimes felt like he was walking a tightrope between who he wanted to be and who he feared he might become.

Through it all, you listened. You didn’t offer solutions, didn’t try to change his perspective. You simply let him speak, giving him the safe space to express what had been locked away for so long.

One night, as you both sat on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, Spencer spoke again, his voice quieter than before.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his words barely a whisper. “Scared that I’m never going to be okay. That I’ll always be carrying this with me.”

You turned your head to kiss his temple softly, your hand gently tracing the lines of his jaw. “We’re going to figure it out together. You don’t have to carry it alone, Spencer. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

His eyes met yours, and for the first time in a long while, there was a glimmer of hope in them. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for him. “I’ll never give up on you, Spencer. Not ever.”

And in that moment, as you held him close, you both realized that despite the challenges you faced, you were stronger together. Spencer had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but now, he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were his support, his rock, and in return, he had begun to trust that he wasn’t just surviving—he was healing. Together.

The journey ahead wouldn’t be easy, but one thing was certain: you would face it side by side. And with each passing day, Spencer found himself thinking more and more about a future that was no longer clouded by fear, but illuminated by the love and strength you had built together.

The drive to the small town was quiet, the world outside the car slipping by in muted shades of gray and green. Spencer’s hand rested on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming lightly to a rhythm only he could hear.

His gaze was fixed on the road, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation in the air. You sat beside him, your hand resting on your lap, but your mind was elsewhere.

Today was different. Today, Spencer was taking you to meet his mother. Diana Reid. You had heard about her many times—the challenges Spencer had faced growing up, the deep bond they shared despite the complexities of her illness. Spencer had always spoken of her with such tenderness, but there was also a sadness there. A reluctance. As if meeting her, truly being part of that chapter of his life, was something he had only now begun to feel ready for.

You could sense the nervous energy radiating from him, even if he wasn’t overtly showing it. He had always been a man of intellect, his thoughts swirling around his cases, his team, his work—but today, it was personal.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the quiet between you. Spencer glanced over at you, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a big step, you know?” You nodded, understanding completely. “I know. But I’m here, Spence. Whatever happens, I’m here.” He gave you a brief, grateful look before focusing back on the road.

The drive was longer than you expected, and as you neared the outskirts of the town, Spencer’s usual quick pace slowed. He turned onto a smaller, tree-lined street, eventually pulling up to a modest house at the end of the road. The house had a quiet charm to it—simple, cozy, the kind of place where the walls held memories and time moved at its own pace.

Spencer parked the car in front of the house, but he didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he sat there, hands gripping the wheel, eyes fixed on the house in front of him. You waited patiently, knowing this moment meant something significant to him.

“I’ve never really brought anyone here before,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to meet her. But it’s not easy for me. I…” His words faltered as he turned to you, his eyes soft and vulnerable. “I want you to understand why she’s so important to me. But I also want you to understand that it’s not always easy with her. Her illness…it’s complicated.” You reached over, placing your hand on his arm. “I know, Spence. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, for whatever comes.” Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Slowly, he opened the door and stepped out, holding his hand out to you. You took it without hesitation, your heart swelling as you followed him to the front door.

Spencer rang the doorbell, his finger tapping nervously against the frame. A few moments later, the door opened, and standing there was a woman whose face you had seen in countless photographs and heard about in Spencer’s stories. Diana Reid. She was dressed simply, her hair long and silver, her eyes slightly unfocused but kind. There was a certain fragility to her, a delicate air that made her seem more like a bird than a person. But her smile was warm, genuine, as she looked from Spencer to you. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice wavering slightly. “It’s so good to see you, my boy.” Spencer smiled, his eyes brightening at the sight of her. “Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice gentle. “I brought someone with me today. This is my girlfriend, [Your Name].” Diana’s gaze shifted to you, and you offered her a soft smile in return. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, searching your face. You could tell she was processing everything, trying to make sense of the new person standing in front of her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, stepping forward. Diana’s smile deepened. “I’m glad you’re here,” she replied, her voice soft but sincere. “Spencer doesn’t bring people around much, so this must be special.” Spencer chuckled lightly, though there was a hint of discomfort in his tone. “Yeah, well, I figured it was time.” Diana gestured for you both to come inside. “Please, come in. I’ve made tea. You’ll need it, with this weather.” As the three of you sat down at the kitchen table, you could sense the delicate dance taking place. Spencer and his mother—there was so much unspoken between them, so many years of history that only they truly understood. But as you watched them interact, you could see the love between them, even through the layers of complexity. Spencer was patient with his mother, always attentive, never rushing her. And Diana, in turn, looked at him with a quiet pride, her eyes softening whenever she spoke to him.

“Spencer tells me you’re very smart,” Diana said after a pause, her voice light and teasing. Spencer flushed slightly, but you could tell he was touched by his mother’s words. “Well, he’s a genius,” you said with a smile, nudging Spencer gently. Diana smiled, her expression softening even more. “I see,” she said. “You seem to make him happy.” Spencer’s gaze flickered to you, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes. His mother had always been his anchor, the one person who truly understood him. And now, you were here—his two worlds, the most important parts of his life, coming together.

“She does,” Spencer said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. Diana’s smile widened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. “I’m glad,” she said simply. “I know how hard it is for you, Spence. You deserve someone who sees you. All of you.” You squeezed Spencer’s hand, offering him a silent show of support. The rest of the afternoon passed with small talk and shared laughter. You learned more about Spencer’s childhood, his mother’s struggles with her illness, and the depth of their bond. As you got up to leave, Diana hugged you warmly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Take care of him,” she whispered. “He’s a good boy, but he needs someone who will help him believe that.” You smiled, a lump forming in your throat. “I will. I promise.”

On the drive back to your apartment, Spencer was quiet, but there was a peacefulness in the air. You could sense the shift in him, a weight lifted from his shoulders. “How are you feeling?” you asked, glancing at him. Spencer took a deep breath, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “I’m… I’m okay,” he said softly. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” You nodded, offering him a smile. “I’m proud of you, Spence.” He glanced over at you, his lips curving into a small smile. “Thanks. I think I’m finally ready for this… for us.” You reached over, taking his hand in yours. “Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent in a comfortable silence, both of you reflecting on the significance of the day. When you arrived home, Spencer turned to you, his expression soft. “I’m glad we did this. I’m glad you’re here with me.” You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad too. I’m excited for what’s to come, Spence. For all of it.” That night, as you both settled into bed, the weight of the world seemed lighter. Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right. The future stretched out before you, full of possibilities, and as you drifted off to sleep, you knew one thing for certain: together, you could face anything. The adventures, the challenges, the quiet moments—they would all be yours to share. And no matter what came next, you would face it as a team.

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hearts4werka · 4 months ago

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Drugged Love

Summary: You and Chris meet when you're coming back from a gang meeting and he is coming back from a deal, your apperance caught his attention but him suddenly popping out from an alleyway makes you react in the opposite way he though you would. He places his number into your phone but you have to keep the relationship a secret because of your involvement with the dangerous gang… Genre: ANGST & SMUT (further into the story there will be smut dw) Drug dealer x gang member, ?strangers to lovers? Gangster, drug dealer, dark themes, alleyways, driving late at night, rainy night, troubled characters, third person pov and possibly more! Warnings: mentions of drug usage & being under the influence of hard drugs, gang involvement at a young age, illegal weapon possession, involvement in illegal activity, being held at gun point, ?slight threatening?, dark subjects will be involved further into the story including different types of childhood trauma, ass content ahead and possibly more!

The idea is from @leoslaboratory and was requested by @yourmother29 in this ask so thank you both luvies!

"Have a good night everyone." I say to the people left in the conference room as I rise from my chair, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair and walk out of the room.

“Bless your soul, child.” I hear one of the older women who were remaining in the conference room, shooting her a warm smile as she lights a cigarette that way neatly placed between her lips who do look like they haven’t met male lips nor seen chapstick in at least 25 years.

Walking down the stairs of the building and out of the exit I look around on the streets to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows behind the streetlight softly lighting the road and side walk.

My outfit mostly consists of the color black which is typically normal but having the hood of my hoodie over my head and my clothing cocealing most of my body which at night can be quite concearning and unsual to see. (I didnt find any reference for this so use your imagination)

I make my way back to my car, wanting to get back home after the meeting which lasted over an hour. Feeling the tiredness state affect my awarness of my surroundings, suddenly theres a tall, but significantly attractive man standing infront of me.

Out of reflex I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and pull out a gun, placing it against the man's forehead to stop him from any further movements, my finger already hovering over the trigger.

He visibly tenses and freezes in place, his vision falling onto the barrel of the cold metal gun against his forehead. A shiver running down his spine as he starts to speak in an almost oddly calm voice. Like he’s been in a situation like this before.

"Woah there, don't gotta be so hostile from the start. I was just passing by." He explains, raising his hands into the air in surrender to asuure me he wont be causing any harm to my human being and looking quite friendly but at the same time a bit high.

"Oh, I'm sorry its just a.. reflex I guess." I state in an apologetic tone, pulling the gun away from his forehead and back into the back pocket of my jeans, feeling slight guilt wash over my body at the sudden situation and my actions.

"You don't look like those typical girls walkin' back home this late, you bein' followed that you needa pull a gun on strangers?" He asks, a feeling of protectiveness washes over me at his question. It;s a weird feeling to be feeling to a man that you have just met.

"I can get pretty defensive when it comes to walking home at night. And no, no one is following me, atleast I don't think so" I answer, glancing around and comprehending my surroundings more than before and feeling certainly more awake now. Letting the tiredness state evaporate into the air.

“Ima walk you to wherever you gotta go, m’kay?” He insists, moving to stand next to me and ready to walk to my destination. Showing no signs of moving from his new currently taken spot.

“You don’t have to, don’t you also have places to be at?” I ask, still standing in the same spot I was from the beginning. Reassuring him that he doesn’t need to walk me back home and feeling slightly hesitant with a random stranger walking with me. “I’ll be fine, really. I know how to defend myself.”

“Yeah but I can’t let a pretty thing like you walk alone at night, especially with all the creeps around these alleyways.” He demands, clearly not taking my negative answer into consideration in his mind

Knowing that he won’t stop until I finally give in, I decide on just letting him walk with me. For some reason I feel like i can trust him and having a possible male friend that’s not a gang member is pretty refreshing.

“Fine, you can walk with me but don’t try anything funny or I’ll put a bullet through your skull.” I warn him, shooting him a slight glare and then chuckle at how his expression says that he knows I’m not kidding and that I am serious about the words I just spoke.

We take off from the spots we were stuck in for a few minutes and I start to make my way towards my car with him following close next to me.

“Soo… what’s with you carrying a gun around?” He finally speaks up, trying to make small talk as he looks me up and down in question, seeming a lot more calmer than others who I’ve had the fortune to have pulled a gun to their head.

“Well it’s not exactly legal and I can’t tell you the reason behind it.” I explain and wait for his reaction, noticing the wheels turning in his head with my words hanging in the tense air between us as small awkward silence joins in alongside the tense air.

He nods his head in understanding, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket which was softly draped over his shoulders. “M’kay, understandable.”

"Why are you out so late?" I ask my first question, a small chuckle escapes past his lips as he glances between me and the side walk ahead of him as we walk alongside each other.

"I think I should be asking that." He jokes, we share a small laugh and as his laugh hits my ears I feel slightly warmer inside, his laugh sounds like a small flower newly blooming before he starts to add, "but to answer your question, I was makin' a quick delivery"

I glance at him with slight confusion shadowing over my features, what kind of delivery is he talking about? he doesn't look like the type to deliver packages and with the current time, packages aren't delivered anymore.

"What kind of delivery?" My head tilting to the side in question, glancing up and down at his attire and observing him closely to try and pry an answer out of him from his appearance alone.

A chuckle rumbles in his throat at my question regarding his words, noticing me clearly observing him while thinking he's not gonna notice but with how my eyes were sliding down his form slightly scrunched in determination to get an answer, my intentions were obviously spotted.

"An illegal one." He answers straight to the point, I almost get taken aback by his sudden honestly given that we are strangers to each other and don't even know each other names yet. Quite shocking how quickly he seemed to warm up to me.

"So that makes us both involved in illegal activity," I summarise what I've caught from our current conversation we’re having before I add. "At least we got one thing in common so far." My brain is slowly easing into the information that this might be the longest walk I've been on.

As we finally start to reach the end of our little walk but just as the conversation starts flowing, I see a small glimpse of my car in the distance and feel slightly bummed that our meeting is soon going to come to an end.

I decide to just fuck it and ask for his number to maybe hang out in the near future together, ill be new air to breathe since he isnt involved with the gang I'm involved in. I’m nit sure in what illegal activity he is involved in but I wont stress over that for now.

We finally make it to my car, being only few feet away from it as i turn my head to look at him as he notices me glancing in the way of the black car and realizes it could possibly belong to me.

“Can you give me your phone for a sec?” He speaks up first, glancing down at me and at the black car we are now standing infront of and eyeing it up with quite the precision in his eyes.

Hesitant thoughts cross my mind as I slightly stare at him with confusion contouring my face, the only thing I get from him is a small laugh rumbling in his throat before he adds. “I’m not gonna steal it, don’t worry”

Still feeling slightly skeptic about this idea but I reach into the back pocket of my jeans and reveal my phone to him, before putting it in his direction and for him to easily grab I unlock it first as I assume he would want to use it for something.

Taking the opportunity he grabs ahold of my phone in his calloused hands and opens an app, quickly typing something out before handing it back that causes our hands to brush against each other.

As i take my phone back and shove it into my back pocket but pulling out my car keys and unlocking the car door, turning my head to glance back at him.

"See ya later, little trouble." He slighty teased, emphasizing the little nickname he suddenly thought of. My thoughts are mixed with the random nickname but I wont stress it too much until I get inside of my car.

He shoots me a small smirk that grows on his face before turning around, making his back face me now and starts to walk in the other direction. Slowly letting the dark shadows consume his form into their black wrath.

I open my car door and slide inside, slumping into my seat as my hands land on the steering wheel. My thoughts slowly wrapping their shadowy arms aroun dmy head and pulling me into the pitch black pit, I finally push the key into the keyhole and press the gas, pulling out of my parked spot and into the nightly street as rain starts tapping the roof of my car...

@hearts4werka

authors note: heloo everyone! Soo here is the drug dealer Chris fic and I hope you guys liked it and would want more, I love hearing your guys thoughts on any of my work and if y’all see any improvement from the previous ones, your guys opinion matters to me so don’t be afraid to leave a comment sharing your thoughts if you want! And last question, do we fw the small text? Luv y’all so much

& love and peace, V

Guestlist!

| @sturnioloblues - @sturnsxplr-25 - @deffonotjae - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @klaus223492 - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot |

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wifihunters · 1 year ago

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There's something to be said for the strangeness of therapy and understanding not only why you do things, but why certain things make you feel like Death for no reason and sometimes why other people do things as well.

And its all well and good except its... tiring.

You go, you pay, you scoop out the seeds and flesh with a blunt spoon until you hit the rind, and then you sit there across from a sad, kind professional while the two of you try to sort out how to put it back together.

And no one thanks you for it outright. Your mom calls and you actually pick up for the first time in a month and she says you sound clearer. Your brother has nothing to say about the amphetamines in your bag because he knows something changed enough that he says an "I love you" at the end of a visit and gets one back. Your wife pulls you back to reality and you find affection and touch tolerable enough to do the same for her the week after without your skin crawling.

But then you start to feel muscles pull and things strain. Anger comes (real anger, not snapped frustration, not survival fighting, but deep, indignant flares) and it fires like an engine left to coagulate for years. It feels like an unwieldy hammer too large to control and too easy to swing all at once. You're afraid to pick it up. You're more afraid to have it taken away again.

So you start to demolish your own foundation. You find the rotten pylons holding up your childhood and leave them in the mud. You cannot move them now, only balance new beams better than your parents did.

Then the hardest room is next. The cozy sitting room with the day bed you kept open all hours and days for anyone to rest on, it goes down with the rotten floor. You never knew the mold had reached out here--you thought that was hidden behind the other doors, under your own bed, not in this space. Not here in the warm light of pride, of being kind and useful, where you curled up in too small of a chair and basked, knowing you had earned love with your tired limbs and heavy eyes. You drag the day bed to the curb and apologize to everyone who knocks. The new floor is bare and cold, the silence echoes in the empty room, but you start to ponder what color paint you might like to decorate yourself in. The roller is lighter than you expected. Maybe the bedroom deserves a coat.

And you brace for some pushback. Not everyone likes the color. Someone else compliments the new couch (only a couch now, an overnight bed for the cats and no one else) and someone else asks why you took the old one to the dump without telling them first. Some of them leave. Some of them put a crack in your newly painted drywall as they do. Others stay, asking if movie night is still on. You wipe your eyes and sweep the dust and ask if they'd like a drink before starting. The foundation shivers, but the walls remain.

Its mundane and earth-shattering and boring and the most terrifying all at once. No one will stop you from quitting. Healing is voluntary and the easiest responsibility on a long list to drop, and yet now that the mold is gone you understand, maybe, what it might be like to even want a home in your own mind and skin. Not a hotel, carefully crafted with beige walls and fluffed pillows, but a home.

#who else is feeling the... Feelings this post-commercial-holiday-season?#anyway #been busy building a person might fuck around and come back better #long post cw

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tinytennisskirt · 6 months ago

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Small Victories

Summary: based on a request, Stanford tennis player! reader and Art strike up a new friendship as they're both pretty lonely at Stanford. It's platonic and fun, but reader is taken out of the tennis season after a serious injury ruins her leg. Recovery is hard, but Art is there the entire way insisting you get back to tennis- and as you slowly heal, he slowly falls harder and harder. It becomes undeniable that you two belong together when you finally get back on the court and win your first game post-injury... when things left unsaid can't stay unsaid.

Warning: mentions of broken bones and blood. Mention of sex. Kissing. A little angst, and a tiny bit of miscommunication if you squint. Slowburn friends to lovers. A good amount of fluff and fun. 13k words- brace yourselves.

It was your first day at Stanford after spending your first night in your dorm room. You had some free time so you’d been spending it unboxing and putting away more of your clothes and things. You covered the ugly boring walls with simple patchwork tapestry, and carefully hung your star-shaped string lights. You set up your computer at the provided desk, moving it to the corner where it was level with the table you’d set up your microwave and kettle on. You made the bed, organized your rackets, and you would have never been this clean if you were at home, but you were a little too bored and you were racking up the nerve to go and speak to people. Meeting new people.

It’s not like you were socially inept at all, but the anticipation was killer. Being so far away from everyone you knew, having this pressure to make friends here or being around wouldn’t be all that worthwhile. Yes, you loved tennis. Yes, you were so glad to be at Stanford. But could you enjoy it without any friends? No. When you decided your room was done, you logged onto your computer to look over the campus website to see if maybe there were any events tonight.

You found a few as you scrolled. They had a painting class led by an instructor, not your thing. They had an acapella group info night, which could be fun, but you couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. You scrolled down to the sports section. Football team info night, lacrosse recruitment, and you saw it, perfectly dated for today at eight, a tennis mixer for all tennis students in the far corner garden on campus, just a ten-minute walk. You shut your computer off and immediately started going through your clothes.

You ended up in your favourite jeans and a light purple tank top, pairing it with some casual Converse you’d had for two years, a nice belt, some pretty earrings, and the most dainty necklace you had. You did your makeup in the mirror, getting your eyeliner right in one try which was an absolute wonder, and finished everything off with a pairing of blotted lipstick and lip balm. You looked over everything in the mirror, fixing the curl of your hair just a bit before you packed the simple things into a small bag and headed out the door.

The garden was cute, it was a little corner boxed in with hedges, full of picnic tables and lawn chairs. You looked up and down the edges lined with pretty pink, orange, yellow, and purple flowers. The 90s music from a radio in the corner was fairly loud, but more dull than the conversation between who you assumed were your peers. A wave of excitement hit as you looked up and around these people, not exactly watching as you stepped backward, foot hitting the side of someone else’s and tripping just slightly in the same direction. Thank god you caught your balance, because without it you might have ended up on the person behind you’s lap.

“You okay?” He asked, hands up, ready to catch if he needed. You turned, fixing yourself, trying to hide your embarrassment. This was an amazing start, you thought to yourself, chuckling nervously. His eyes were soft and genuine, and he was asking.

“Oh, yeah, just not looking where I was walking,” You smiled. “I’m so sorry.”

He smiled back, “No, you’re good, don’t worry about it. I sit with my feet too far out anyway.” He said, getting up out of the chair he was sitting in with his drink. You noted just how nice his voice sounded, you’d never heard anyone with his tone. “My name is Art… Donaldson.” He extended his free hand to you and you were a little surprised but glad.

“Y/N,” You answered, unable to control the grin that came from meeting someone already, even if you nearly tripped into him. You eyed him up and down a moment. He was taller than you, thin, with blonde curls and a big smile. Bigger than one you would have gotten from anyone else you spoke to if you had ended up speaking to anyone else that night. “You’re in the tennis program?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He grinned. “And you too, I assume.”

“Mhm,” You nodded back. “First year. Nervous.” You admit, feeling like maybe he’d get it. And he did, no doubt.

Art ruffled his hair, “Oh yeah. I’m on residency, so it’s not much different from my previous school, but I don’t know anyone, so it’s a little weird. I had to check the campus website for anything to do to get out and meet people.” He spoke a lot with his hands, you noted along with the fact you had done the exact same thing. He was also just speaking to speak, you noticed as you nodded along, smiling. He was nervous too. “Are you on residency?” He asked, ending his little spiel. You’d let him talk just to hear him talk, finding his voice unique and a little bit pretty. And he was nice.

“I am, I spent the whole day organizing and decorating my room,” You chuckled, stepping aside to grab yourself a can of iced tea, and cracking it open. Art watched as you did, studying the dainty rings on your fingers, the way the one strand of hair fell in your face when you tripped and you hadn’t yet thought to move it. “Things are a lot harder to do without a staple gun.” You told him.

He sipped his own drink, “Mmm, right? Took me seven attempts to hang up my poster today with that stupid blue clay stuff.”

“Oh, that stuff is nasty.” He liked how you crinkled your nose. “I bought this glue-brand double-sided tape. It’s a game-changer, but so sticky.” And the embarrassment from nearly tripping eased away as the conversation enhanced itself. He was sweet and funny and kind and truly seemed like he was hearing what you said. Art was truthfully just glad he found anyone to talk to after Patrick left last night and as the conversation moved over the regular small talk, he found he didn’t really want to talk to anyone else.

The night went on and people were leaving now and then, but you and Art sat on the bench in the very corner of the corner garden unphased, just talking about your histories with tennis. Soon you knew all of his best victories and he knew yours and he also knew you liked music more than most things, tennis included, him making mental note of what songs to listen to when he went back to his dorm room. He felt a lot less alone in Patrick’s absence than he’d expected and you were so interesting. He also knew you were a big fan of iced coffee, had a lucky tennis racket, and had a love for star-shaped things. Just as you knew his best game was his doubles at the Junior US Open with his best friend who you’d heard a lot about now, just as you heard about his past at Mark Rebatello’s Tennis Academy, how his favourite thing to do in tennis is serve, and his favourite post-game meal is chicken wings. Your conversation naturally covered all the simple things and when the night truly had to come to an end, he gladly walked you back to your dorm.

“It’s been really nice meeting you,” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as you approached your door. Part of him knew he could probably tell you everything and anything about himself and you’d listen and that’s what he liked about you. “Glad someone spoke to me.”

“Well, I tripped, so we’re just lucky, I suppose.”

He twisted his mouth to the side, “I guess so, but who’s to say I didn’t do it on purpose?” He questioned with a teasing smile.

You laughed quietly, “It’s been nice meeting you too. I’ll see you around the court?”

“Probably,” He replied, shoving his hands into his pockets as you leaned against the door. “I look forward to it.” A grin slowly crept up his face, unable to hide itself. He was not in a particular lack, but gaining you was something he wouldn’t regret and he knew it. “I’ll see you around.”

You couldn’t help but grin right back- his smile was so wide it was hard to ignore. “Goodnight, Art.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You saw him again the next day, more than enthused to see a familiar face around. You had your hair up in a ponytail, sporting a white skort and black tank top and he was in blue gym shorts and a sports t-shirt that was just a tad lighter than his shorts.

“Hey you,” You smiled as you approached. He turned, more than happy to see you as well.

“Hey,” he replied, setting his things down on the nearest bench. You beamed, doing the same. “How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” You asked, hopping up and starting to stretch. He had his hands shoved in his pockets. “Co-op doubles today, you want to be my partner?” He asked. You were nodding yes before he even finished the sentence.

It was that day that Art realized just how good you were at tennis and how distracting it was playing doubles when all he wanted to do was watch you play. It was almost hypnotizing to see you do your thing and he was honestly a little proud he’d made your acquaintance before you demolished the other team so he wouldn’t have had to look like a suck up approaching you afterward.

You jumped and high fived him when you two won the scrimmage and Art knew he picked the perfect tennis partner for sure. As for you, he impressed you vastly past your expectations. He was amazing at serving so no wonder it was his favourite.

“That was crazy,” Art huffed, breathing out. “That was amazing.”

“Your serves are crazy,” you gushed, turning to him. “You’re amazing, that was amazing that serve at the end completely threw them.”

Art shook his head, “As if you didn’t completely end the game with that last swing, that was incredible.” He gestured openly, then let his arms fall to his sides. “You want to go again?”

Technically you were supposed to switch partners, but Art just didn’t want to take that chance. He had you as a partner and he would have to swap it out? No thanks.

Your smile turned itself into a smirk, you had other thoughts. “Maybe after.” You said and jogged over to the boy you’d just gone up against and asked him to play with you and Art knew what you were doing. You wanted to play against him.

It turned out to be a problem because now Art had a full view of how you played and it really was hypnotic. You obviously had a well-learned method for every swing and situation and you knew exactly what was in your section and what was in your partner’s. Art was grinning, watching you play and honestly hardly paying much attention to the fact that he himself was in the game. He missed a few balls just because he was watching your swing. You were good, you were really good, and that fact being distracting was not very useful to a scrimmage.

When the game ended and you had a bit of a water break, you jogged over, “What was that?” You laughed.

Art shrugged, chuckling. “You’re really good.” He took a long drink from his water bottle, knowing the reason he gave you wasn’t very detailed but it was honest.

You and Art were partners for most co-op doubles that week, hanging out almost every day after or before. You two were fast friends- him enjoying how passionate you were when you talked and shared the things you liked and the way you went about tennis, you enjoying having a great partner for scrimmages and the things he talked about. Having a familiar face around all the time was the ease you needed to fully get yourself situated at Stanford. It was fun to have someone that you wanted to see every day who happened to want to see you just the same. You two were friends quicker than anyone you’d ever known, like something just clicked and fit into place- he was fun and a little bit wild when he wasn’t shy, and he loved music just as much as you did, it turned out, which was surprising.

You’d sit in his car for hours just talking with music in the background. “Okay, so McDonalds fries versus Arby’s.” You said, picking through the McDonald’s fries you two bought on the way back to campus. Art put the car in park and you were leaned against the car door, sitting facing him. “Don’t say Arby’s, I’m begging you.”

He smiled and shrugged a little sheepishly, “They’re thicker.” He reasoned.

“Uh-huh, I see how it is,” you said, rolling your eyes at him. He hid his face in his hands. “McDonald's are so classic.”

He raised his head, “True-“ he spoke with too many in his mouth and you smiled. “- But Arby’s are curly. Which means more.”

“Okay so you’re settled on the fact that it’s more food,” you laughed, popping a small one in your mouth. “Here I was going off of taste.”

“You can’t go off taste alone because quality is so important,” he said, gesturing with his hands. “McDonalds fries are good but the quality is shit.”

“You’re right but you can ignore that-“

“I have to ignore that while you ignore thicket and curlier?” He laughed. “No-“ he couldn’t get through his words laughing, “We are done here.”

“What-“ you laughed. “No, come on.”

He gestured wide, hand on your upper arm, sliding down to rest on your forearm, “You’ve just proven you can’t debate, it’s pointless-“ he couldn’t stop laughing, and from that point on neither could you. It was contagious and spread throughout the car like the air conditioning that circulated. It was good laughter, sweet, and unending because whenever one of you tried to stop, even looking at the other would cause you both to burst out laughing again. It was a cycle that made your ribs ache, your heart beat harder in your chest and your breath impossible to catch. The laughter only ended when you were both in too much pain to continue.

Art rubbed his eyes, leaning against the car's center console, catching his breath. He missed Patrick but not so much when you were around. He was glad he had you and that was one of the only thoughts in his head as he looked at you, catching your breath as well. Your smile was gorgeous was the afterthought but there was no afterthought to that thought itself, just that you were and it was. You moved your hair from your face and he thought again about the fry conversation and he nearly laughed again, but he tried hard not to.

The truth was Art did have thoughts like that often. You saw him every day, you were funny and talented, and Art loved how much you cared about everyone around you. How could he not, even for a moment, think more of you than what you two were? But he didn’t notice how often he had those thoughts because they were forgotten so easily, buried under something subconsciously.

You looked back at him, the atmosphere shifting once again. Art watched you glance at the time, “I have to get to bed, I’m so sorry,” He loved how you apologized for nothing. He’d tried to correct it at first but it was just something you couldn’t help. “I have that game tomorrow, the one I’ve been talking about, are you coming?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it,” he grinned, pulling the car back into drive to bring you closer to your residency building so you wouldn’t have to walk. “Starts at ten?”

“I have to be there at ten, game at eleven.” You nodded.

“Sounds good,” He nodded back, a slight smile pulling at his lip. “I’ll see you there.”

“I guess you will. Or might. I need you there in case I need to make a run for it, I’m terrified to play that Roxy girl, she’s supposed to be so hardcore.” You pressed your hands to your face. “Thank you for hanging out, for a moment I forgot just how scared I am of tomorrow.” Your smile turned to a grin and Art’s followed. He was unable to control his smile around you.

He shook his head, “You’ll be great. You’ll kick her ass.”

“She’s Russian,” you replied. “She’s going to do more than kick mine.”

Art shook his head again, “No. Can’t think that way or else she will for sure. You kick hers, no other way.”

You took a deep breath, grin dulling back to a simple smile. “Thank you. I’ll need all the luck I can get though,” You opened his car door to get out.

“Okay, well, good luck if I don’t see you before the game, leprechauns, four-leaf clovers, break a leg, etcetera.”

You laughed and after saying goodnight, your laugh still echoed around his head. It did so until he went to sleep that night. But he didn’t think anything of it, there was no reason to.

The game the next day really did terrify you. This girl you were up against was hardcore, you spent the morning watching her games trying to figure her out but all you got was that she stepped twice before swinging left, no matter what as well as she was an amazing player. She had long sleek blonde hair that she tied up in a braided ponytail and icy eyes that seemed to stare into your soul when you saw her tennis poster. You wondered if her eyes followed you around as you got dressed into your pink skort and lilac purple tank top combo. Looking nice on the court helped a lot with your confidence.

You tied your hair up in two French braids to keep it away from your face and tried to take deep breaths as you grabbed your things and headed over to the Stanford court. It was a busy day, apparently, as a small crowd of people were waiting to get into the benches and you walked by them and into the building where you met your coach.

“You ready?” She asked and you really wanted to say no, the nerves getting to your stomach. The first big game of the season meant something. This is the beginning of what you were working for. Part of you was so ready for this all to begin, other casual games with small audiences were easy, but there was a Russian girl out there ready to demolish you. You took another deep breath.

“Yeah.” And you took your things to the court and unzipped your bag that you’d packed in a haste this morning out of pure nerves and no real rush to see that somehow, in some extreme mishap, that your lucky racket wasn’t there. You turned to your coach, who knew that when you laid all your rackets out on the sidelines that you were missing the lucky one.

And Art in the stands looked over, knowing the exact same thing. He turned to Patrick, who was visiting as of this morning, “She doesn’t have her purple racket.” He said as if Patrick knew what that meant. Art had spent the morning filling Patrick in on who you were and Patrick listened with a knowing smirk, but didn’t say anything about what he truly thought. “Patrick, she can’t play this without her lucky racket.” He urged as if it made a difference. The game was set to start in five minutes.

“Lucky racket?” Patrick understood. When he was younger he himself had the same thing, he knew the sentiment and the effect it could have on a game. That’s why Art, knowing Patrick, knew you were the same way.

“Fuck,” Art said, looking around to see if there was a clear path out of the bleachers, but there wasn’t. He looked back at you, talking to your coach with your hand over your mouth. He got up and stepped over a few people but was stopped by an usher.

“Game is starting in five-“ the burly man said.

“I know, I need to get out,” he urged.

“Sit. Down. Please.” The usher replied.

Art shook his head, “No, you don’t understand, this is vital to the game about to be played, that’s my friend out there-“

“Sir, if you leave before the first half, you won’t be getting back in.” He said. And that was that. Art couldn’t even make a run for it because this usher would make sure he couldn’t get the racket back to you.

“Fuck,” Art muttered, having to sit back next to Patrick knowing this wouldn’t be good. It put him on edge from the stands he couldn’t imagine the anxiety you were feeling if it was already bad and you didn’t have your racket. He rubbed his face, looking at Patrick, who knew exactly what you were feeling even not knowing you yet. “This is bad.”

You had to use your practice racket. Which was fine if you were anyone else, it worked just the same, but the feeling of confidence was hard to attain. You hit the court as the announcer called out you were to serve. You took what felt like the deepest breath, filling your lungs as you faced your blindingly blonde opponent. You let the breath go slowly, trying to convince yourself that this was fine. And you served.

The rally was good, you both had each other moving, but she was up in points within the first ten minutes. You weren’t doing badly, you were just behind. Art and Patrick were watching from the stands at how intense things were, Art worried the entire time.

You caught up and surpassed her points around the middle, but soon enough she bounced right back surpassing you again. You were getting increasingly more scared that this was exactly what you expected from a game without the purple racket. You took a deep breath and hit the ball as hard as you could upon serve, it going awkwardly sideways and immediately out. You tried not to swear too loudly. Art and Patrick did it for you in unison, Patrick was just as invested as Art.

When they called the halfway point, you were below her points-wise. Art couldn’t pay less attention to the way you walked off the court with your hand to your head because he was running, or trying to, through the sea of people who were going for washroom breaks and getting food from the stands outside. He tried to push through but more people kept coming and the stress of it alone had his heart beating. That was nothing on the beat of his heart as he finally pushed through and he started sprinting across the campus grounds trying to get to your residency as fast as he could.

He didn’t think he’d ever run so fast in his life but this was the only way he knew how to help. This was how you would save your game. He ran through the residency doors and up the stairs to the second floor and grabbed your key from behind the fire alarm trigger, unlocking your door. He knew you wouldn’t mind after this- he looked around seeing the racket leaning in the corner and he grabbed it, locking your door again and jumping the stairs, sprinting back.

It took a lot longer than he thought. He tried a shortcut that was stupidly a dead end and he checked his watch before launching back into his sprint and he had two minutes before you were back on. He was so fucked. This time he just about shoved people as he returned to the crowd.

He could hear the game resume and people did hurry to get back to their seats which helped a little- Art was still pushing to make it back to you, to get the racket to you before the second half truly started. He knew if he just got it out there onto the court you could switch it out between serves and that would be good enough and he was nearly through the crowd, cheers in his ears, people whooping and yelling, getting into the game and all of a sudden it was a simultaneous gasp. Art was confused for about a split second before he heard the scream in the silence of a crowd that held their breath.

Art pushed through the crowd and the sight he saw when he laid eyes on you on the ground was something reminiscent of some horror movie. The detail was too much but visible to him, from far away, was bone. And you were screaming, it was you.

He bolted over but not before the others did, surrounding you immediately locking him out and he looked over as your tennis partner ran to the edge of the court to vomit. The crowd was mumbling but other than that it was silence versus screams and cries and it was you. Art hated that it was you.

He couldn’t do anything, he wasn’t any help, 911 was already called and you were crying and screaming, and thank god the huddle shielded the crowd from the blood that pooled on the court.

Art did the only thing he knew to do and that was collect your things. It didn’t matter what it looked like he was doing, he packed up your rackets and your water bottle, numbing himself to the situation so he could at least do this for you as your screams rang out in the crowd of people still seeming to hold their breaths. He couldn’t get to you if he tried. Sirens in the distance meant it was time to get the fuck out of the way and he moved over as the paramedics worked quickly to tend to you to get you on the ambulance, doing what they could to stop the bleeding.

Art ran faster than he did to get your racket, even with your rackets on him. It was a good thing Patrick had gotten himself out of the crowd, meeting Art at the fence doors to get him to his car. He’d only known you a month or two, but you were still a person he cared a lot about and he knew your entire family was miles and miles away. You’d be alone in this and knowing you, and talking to you every day, he knew you were afraid of doctors and hated hospitals more than anything. He couldn’t let it be something you had to brave alone. He threw your rackets in the trunk as Patrick got into the passenger seat and Art tossed him the keys to start the car before he got into the driver's seat.

“Fuck, this is so bad,” Art said, pulling away a little faster than he should have. “This is so bad.”

He ended up waiting ten hours at the hospital. You needed surgery to fix your leg and nobody in your family could make it over in ten hours. It would take a flight to get to you. Patrick stayed about four hours with Art, trying to keep him occupied so he didn’t lose his mind in the waiting room, but Art wasn’t very talkative, just worried. You had easily become one of his best friends.

He ate hospital food and he slept in his chair against the wall. The nurses knew he was there for you and came to update him until one of the nurses told him to come back the next morning because by then you’d probably be stable and awake properly without the pain meds keeping you asleep. He hated that, he slept in his car.

Patrick came back the next morning, tapping on Art’s window at close to 11:30 in the morning. Art woke with a bit of a start, his hair messed up, his clothes from the days before still on. Patrick held up a bag from Art’s dorm room where he’d stay. You wouldn’t think Patrick to think of something like it, but he brought Art a change of clothes which he took gratefully and changed into in the hospital bathroom before going back up to see you.

Patrick gladly waited in the hallway when he went in. You were awake but you were staring blankly at a wall- it didn’t seem like you even realized he had entered. You’d gotten used to not minding the nurses and doctors that came in and out. Art approached slowly out of understanding and observed how hard you crying so silently. He thought he saw a tear but as he observed, it was a steady stream.

“Hey…” he said quietly.

You turned your head at the sound of his voice and Art swore when you met his eyes he had never seen eyes sadder than yours. It shook him a little to see pain so obvious in someone’s eyes. “Art-“ you sobbed, putting your head in your hands, unable to say anything else. He rushed forward, dropping his backpack at your bedside to give some sense of comfort. He didn’t know what to do, so he crouched next to you and his hands rested on your forearm, careful not to touch the bruising no doubt from the fall. He didn’t say anything else for a long while and neither did you, you just cried as Art crouched next to you, his hands gently grazing over your skin where they could. Soft, back and forth, just delicately.

It was the first act anyone had ever taken to make you feel okay, truly okay. You’d been intimidated and overwhelmed by the hospital lights, the sterile metals, and sounds and processes.

It was also the first true act of many that was something closer than what it should have been for you and Art. It was just you and him in that hospital room, empty aside from the machines, drips, a bed, and chairs, but the silence was so full that it occupied every corner that wasn’t already taken.

You did eventually speak, but that silence was so needed. It was a conversation about what had happened and you explained it all and how it felt, but Art informed you that you were ahead of her in points before it happened. He didn’t tell you he didn’t see it happen- he didn’t tell you anything about where he’d gone at the halfway point of the game.

Art slept in the corner chair later that night when you slept. Patrick eventually left after waiting for so long. When you needed your privacy Art got his meals from downstairs, heading back to the dorm and coming back the next morning every day for two weeks. He came by whenever he could to see you, the conversation was good and kept you distracted. You talked about everything and nothing just to pass the time in your lonely, empty room. Art brought you your iPod and a few other things from your dorm to keep you occupied when he wasn’t there.

Art was the greatest comfort until your parents finally got on a plane and flew out to see you, urging to somehow get you home but you didn’t want to go. You couldn’t anyway, and you were so glad. Your mom was surprised by the flowers you’d received from the Russian girl from the big game, who did come to visit you and was surprisingly very sweet, unlike her teeth-bared photo from her Facebook. But other than that, Art visited almost every day right after your parents did. They stayed at a nearby hotel as you were in the hospital recovering.

Patrick stayed nearby for Art who was fine, other than a little busy most days when he went to visit. Today Patrick came in with Art.

“Hey,” you grinned, sitting up just a bit when the two boys came in with McDonald’s. “Oh my god, you didn’t.”

“But we did,” Art said, kicking your tray over to your bed and putting the food down on it. “Patrick’s idea actually, which I hate- but he wanted to get Arby’s and I told him no.”

You smiled at him slyly, knowingly, but your attention turned to Patrick. “Hey! I’ve heard so much about you, this is crazy. I heard you were at the game.”

He grinned and you noted the dimple he had when he smiled. It was nice. “Yeah. Aside from the whole bone-out-the-leg thing, you were pretty good. I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Well, yeah,” you nodded, gesturing to your leg. You were fun, Patrick knew Art liked you but it was finally coming to be something clear in his mind as to why. You had high spirits. But both boys had no idea how hard you sobbed the moment they left. “Thank you for bringing me food, hospital soup and chicken are somehow both dry.” You said, opening the bag.

Art looked at Patrick for some sort of approval which he got with a look Patrick exchanged. “You’re welcome,” Art spun on his heel. He looked at the way your hair fell over your face as you peeked in, how pretty it looked the way it curved inward to frame your face. The hospital had hindered your will to do your makeup but you still somehow looked just as gorgeous, if not more. His fleeting thought lingered this time as he gathered the right words to say. “So how is your leg feeling today?”

“Fucked,” you replied, handing the boys their fries and burgers. “Hurts like hell and I’m still on the super strong stuff.”

“Well you couldn’t tell,” Patrick said, pulling up a chair.

“I think if I asked, they’d give me the good stuff.” You nodded. “But it makes me so tired, it’s awful.” You bit into your burger.

Art pulled a chair closer to you and sat in it, “So all this was just for some drugs, hm?” He teased. “And attention.”

“Oh yeah,” You agreed with a laugh between bites. Patrick chuckled and Art grinned, “All I had to do was fuck up my knee, have a surgery and a half, and ruin my tennis career.” Both boy’s smiles fell almost immediately, watching your tongue press to your cheek. The silence was loud, but you just continued eating. Art opened his mouth to speak but nothing came to mind. It could be true, you could very well never play tennis again, or with proper rehabilitation, you could be back to playing eventually. He didn’t know, he didn’t know what to say. You sighed, your voice monotone, “It’s fine. Most people who can’t play anymore start coaching. I just have to get better at teaching it.”

“No, you can’t just say you’re going to coach, you still have so much work to do. You could get back into it when you get better,” Art said, hating how willing you were to succumb to just… teaching. “You’re only starting.”

“True,” Patrick said, agreeing. “Would be badass if you got back on the court.”

You twisted your mouth to the side, not finding it very easy to even speak on the topic, even if you brought it up yourself. You didn’t want to cry, not right now, you usually waited until you knew Art was down the hall so you had a minute to cry before the nurses came to check on you. “I don’t know…”

Art looked at you with an expression that bordered on unkind- not toward you, but toward what you were saying. He’d played tennis with you- you were amazing and to not even believe that it could even get better was almost disgusting to him. You had so much potential, so much talent, “You do know.” He insisted. “There’s no way you want this to be career-ending, so don’t let it.”

Patrick, despite the seriousness of the situation, smiled watching Art all passionate about something. It had been a while since he’d seen Art so riled up about something even if it didn’t affect him directly. Patrick smiled because he was seeing something he knew Art himself didn’t see. He leaned against his hand propped up by the arm of the chair. And you knew Art was right, but not enough to see past the cast on your leg, not enough to see past the months of rehab, not enough to see the court again. As much as you wanted it, it wasn’t in the foreseeable future, so you let it feel impossible.

Your parents went back home a month or so in with the promise of returning, but it was getting expensive to stay, so they’d go return to their jobs. It was back to being Art and now recently, Patrick, whom you’d grown to be quite fond of. He brought out a side to Art that was not funnier, per se, but broadened his means to be. Patrick sometimes came to see you when Art had class so he wasn’t just sitting around Art’s dorm. Art would swing by after to join the card games and be told to be quiet by the nurses. It always ended up with you laughing so hard your ribs hurt more than your knee, even for a second. It was the only pain that was welcome in the hospital room.

It was evening and you were sitting on your hospital bed, just thinking over everything. It wasn’t rare for you to cry at random periods throughout the day, it was a little too normal, if you were honest. All of this was so hard- continuing school from a hospital room because of all the risks was awful. But tomorrow you’d be seeing a physical therapist and that would decide if you were ready for rehabilitation. You wiped your eyes from the tears that fell just thinking about whether or not you’d be fit to walk on your leg again, which would determine if you could run if you could play.

That’s when Art knocked on the door. He poked his head, looking around, but ultimately looking at you. You had the lamps that your parents had purchased for the room to be less overwhelmingly white in the top right and bottom left corners of the room, making for dim, comfortable lighting. Art swore he forgot how to greet you when his eyes met your tear-filled ones. The way your eyelashes looked when wet was almost hypnotizing, something that wiped all of the words from his vocabulary and out of sight almost completely. “Um-” He cleared his throat, “Hi,” He started, a weird pit in his throat. “You okay?”

“Not sure,” You confessed, wiping your tears off your cheeks. He had seen you cry too many times now, it was getting a little embarrassing. “How are you?” Art smiled just a little at the fact you asked while crying. He hated to answer that question when you were upset.

He pulled up his regular chair, but oddly it didn’t feel close enough. The feeling of it had been creeping up with every one of his visits, every time you were alone. But it got pushed aside. “I’m fine. Class was boring and tennis sucks without you, as usual.” He said, taking a seat. “The girl I’m paired with keeps hitting on me between rounds.”

You wiped more tears away, smiling just a little though your stomach felt just a little odd at the mention, “Really?”

“It’s bad.” He laughed, “She twirls her hair and everything.”

“And that didn’t immediately work on you?” You fake-gasped. Art was just glad you were smiling. “You didn’t get married on the spot?”

He chuckled, looking at his hands, “I don’t think it’s so easy. I don’t think I even know her name.”

“You don’t know Melanie?”

“Is that her name?”

“No idea,” You laughed, really laughed, and it was a gorgeous sound. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m mostly bedridden and confined to this room.”

He covered his face, rubbing his eyes, “That’s enough.” He groaned through a laugh, leaning against his hand, just looking at you.

“I say it’s hardly anything, imagine how fun I could be if I wasn’t broken,” You huffed. “But Melanie, whatever her name is, she’s like… she’s really pretty.” You noted. ‘Melanie’ had all your opposite features, it should be noted. She was pretty just the same, but she was your opposite.

“Mmm, not my type,” Art replied, scooting his chair just a little closer to the edge of your bed.

“So you have a type? What, Kat Zimmerman-like?”

Art groaned again, “I can’t believe Patrick told you that, that’s insane that you’d bring that up right now, I hate that.” He stressed the important syllables and covered his face again. You giggled, unable to keep it in. “No, not Kat Zimmerman, jesus christ.”

“So then what’s your type?” You asked, just curious. You weren’t sure what drove you to curiosity but you didn’t question it.

He shook his head, “I don’t think I have one. I know who I’m not into though and she’s exactly that.” Art said. Once again, to be noticed, the opposite of you was not his type. “She’s nice but we don’t talk much aside from when she compliments my playing and my hair and my arms and… all that.”

You felt a little twinge. It was so awful to be on the inside while life went on outside, you thought to yourself. That was only half the twinge and the only half of the twinge you could understand. The other half was something close to jealousy that went completely unnoticed, but not unfelt. “She does that?” You struggled to sound genuine and that was the only thing you questioned about any of it.

“Yeah, I hate it. What about you? You have a type?”

You thought for a second, “I’m the same, I think. I know sports guys… jocks- are not it.” And Art nodded. Something about it felt weird to hear. He qualified as a sports guy, right? He tried to shrug it off, but he internalized it.

The night went on and you talked about things you hadn’t before and it was all romantic context. Past relationships, elementary school crushes. It was something that was needed out in the open and it made for an occupying conversation though it was a little hard to get through when there were constant little fleeting thoughts in Art’s mind that were thoughts about how jealous he was of these boys who had gotten to kiss you, touch you, and have your romantic attention. However, the thoughts were so fleeting they flew by without being read or registered, but they were there even unnoticed. You were his best friend and nothing more and that was that.

When the doctors okayed you for rehabilitation you were so overjoyed you cried again. It was okay this time, it felt good to cry. All of these months in pain could be undone if you could just get into this and succeed. There was no guarantee it would work, there wouldn’t be at any point a guarantee and you knew that it would be a long, frustrating process, but it felt like it would be worth it. You remembered what Art told you about not wanting that career path to end and not letting this be the end of anything. This injury, in the long run, would not be able to take you from what you loved. Ever. Because you wouldn’t let it. You called to tell Art and you could hear Patrick whoop and cheer in the background. And you had your first session in your hospital room later that week and the now-wilting flowers Art and Patrick had brought you was amazing for motivation.

Your healing journey was up and down as expected but no matter if you could finish your session or not, Art came by to tell you how great you were doing and Patrick to reassure you that you were a badass. You even let them stay for a session and the physiotherapist told them to ‘shut up’ because they were cheering for you the second you started. You just laughed.

Patrick, for amusement, liked to sit back when you and Art were talking. He was no master, he was not a very scientific guy but your body language when engaging with each other was crazy obvious. You’d always sit super close no matter what, you leaned toward each other when you laughed, your eye contact was completely loaded with unsaid words and when you spoke it was 89% flirting. Patrick understood Art- you were gorgeous and you were strong and that itself was hot. You were funny and took jabs but you were honestly one of the most caring people Patrick had ever met. So yeah, he understood why Art liked you so much.

You got better every day, easing onto your crutches at this point, able to somewhat move on your own. Patrick visited that day and he had his intentions. “You heard about that girl who won’t stop hitting on Art between games?” He chuckled, dealing the cards for crazy eights. He watched for your reaction.

You pressed your tongue to your cheek, “Mmm, he mentioned.” You said, picking up your cards. “She’s still at it?”

“Worse,” Patrick said. “Asked him out yesterday.”

You looked up at Patrick with telling eyes and Patrick could have gone off of that alone, but he didn’t yet. He noticed your hands bending the edge of a card as you thought it over. The idea of him and that girl was something you could easily envision. He’d been her partner for over a year now and he had to know her name, they had to have been talking for her to just ask him out. Your jealousy was a fleeting thought that did burn close to the surface. “What did he say?”

“He said he’d think about it,” Patrick said, eyeing your response to that one. It wasn’t true, Art had turned her down at least twice now. The girl was pretty, but oddly persistent.

“Hm,” You nodded, putting down three cards right off the bat. “He said she wasn’t his type.”

Patrick shrugged, playing his card, “He’s pretty diverse I think. Me personally-” He placed a hand on his chest, “- Dark hair, dark eyes. I’m not limiting myself to it, but I think I have a type.”

“That’s very you, I feel,” You said, narrowing your eyes at him. “Are you an ass guy too?”

“Oh yeah,” He grinned a wide grin. You just smiled and shook your head at him. “What about you? You have a type?” He asked, trying not to make it obvious he was playing wingman here.

You picked up a card, “I don’t think so. Maybe tall, not too much muscle but not like bone-breaking thin.” You said. “And a good amount of hair. I can’t imagine being with someone with a buzzcut. I don’t know, I don’t think much about who I could want, more of what I don’t want.”

Patrick pretended like that body criteria wasn’t exactly Art. He smiled just a little, “And what’s that?”

“Okay, easy. No mommy issues,” You put down another card, “No weird patchy facial hair, nobody who doesn’t know the difference between too, two, and to, and no guys in sports.”

Patrick leaned in just a bit. “No guys in sports? You don’t date guys who play sports?” He clarified, a little bit of hope slipping out the window for his wingman act. All of everything could be wrong, could be pointless.

You shook your head, “I say that but I mean football, mostly. Jocks. I had a bad experience with two different football players. Broke my little heart,” You chuckled. “I’ve ruled out jocks.”

“But you’d date a guy in t-” he almost said tennis. He wouldn’t have been a good wingman to give away something like that. “You’d date a guy who plays something else?”

“If he’s normal about it,” You nodded. “I can’t be outloved by a sport. My ex, I swear he’d fuck a football if it had a hole.” You placed down two more cards, “Last card.”

The game finished with your win and Patrick was fairly satisfied with his work, though he intended to ask you a few more things and was cut short from his recon when Art swung in the room with a can of iced tea for you and Coca-Cola for him and Patrick. “How are you?” You asked him, taking the iced tea gratefully.

“I’m good, you?” Art sat at the end of your bed by your feet, putting a hand on your shin (on your good leg) just casually. Patrick noticed it, but it didn’t seem to phase you. He’d seen it the other day when you rested your head on Art’s shoulder, he’d seen it when Art moved your hair over your ear as you were reading a magazine they’d brought. It was painful how obvious this was- he didn’t have to ask anything else. He almost laughed out loud as he thought about it. He made a mental note to talk to Art about it.

He went back to the dorm early that day, leaving just you and Art. “Hm,” You hummed, pulling your hair to one side. Art snapped out of the trance he was in, hoping you hadn’t noticed that he was staring. It was something about the way you looked in purple, it was like it made your skin glow. That and your eyelashes as they fluttered when you looked around the room, that and the way your lower lip rested between your teeth as you checked over your textbook quickly making sure you were done with your schoolwork for the day. Art blinked all the thoughts away, but they clung on to your square-necklined purple t-shirt. Something about the way you looked in purple.

Art rubbed the back of his neck, taking his eyes off of you, but looking back a moment later. Your lip between your teeth had his full attention, his own lips parting just a little at the sight. And then there was your hair draping over your face now and Art wanted so badly to move it like he had before. At this thought, as it crossed his mind it stopped dead centre in his brain. Like a shift, but a shift from his own burying and blatant ignorance of any feelings to being completely in the know. You were here, and you were perfect and you weren’t even doing anything, and Art knew he liked you as more than a friend at that very moment.

But that was the issue. He was supposed to be your friend.

And that troubled him the next week or so. He was fine seeing you, being one of your close friends wasn’t an act, it was true to him with the addition that maybe he liked you but he always told himself ‘just a little bit’, he liked you a little. If it was full blown then it would be a crisis and the truth was that it was absolutely and completely full blown and there was nothing he could say to himself that would change that. He thought about you when he wasn’t with you, when he woke up, and when he went to bed. He thought about you when he saw something you liked, he thought about you in every spare moment he could get. It was so bad he couldn’t even tell Patrick- as if Patrick didn’t know and constantly teased him about it.

You were getting better and better and it was a surprising recovery, doctors said. Your mobility was far ahead of schedule and set to stay that way. Any setbacks from this point would be minor and you were making progress almost miraculously. And you were so glad to hear it every time they’d say it. Your parents came back around the day you took a real step alone and you wouldn’t forget your mom’s shriek of complete happiness. Your knee would work again.

Just Art brought you flowers that day, not him and Patrick.

But things stayed the same. You could leave and come back in for therapy and you were more than glad to be out of the hospital, though you’d gotten a bit used to it. Everything was falling into place, Art was there pretty much every step -literal and physical- of the way. He was amazing support and made things feel so much easier. When Patrick came around it was fun to have two people who’d add into the motivation. You got better and better and soon enough you swore you could walk just fine aside from your slight limp. That day you walked across the room when Art turned his back, he was surprised, to say the least.

When you could go out with a wheelchair and crutch the boys took you to the court. It was your first time on it since the incident. Your eyes fell on the spot where it happened. Patrick followed your eyes, grimacing just a bit. You’d forgotten Art didn’t see it- you still had no idea where he’d gone at the halfway point of the game. “I can almost feel it,” You said, a look of disgust on your face. “I think the gasp from the crowd was the worst part.”

“It was loud,” Patrick said.

Art looked at where they were looking. “But you almost have full use of your knee again. Who knows, you could be back out here in a few months.” He shrugged. You turned on your crutch, away from the spot, and looked at Art. “Okay, don’t give me that look, you know you just need to try.”

“I know,” You nodded slowly. “I just don’t know to what extent. I don’t think I could follow through with Stanford.”

“Why not?”

“It’s so top-notch,” You answered. Patrick kicked around on the court, grabbing one of Art’s balls and rackets and dribbling it around. “The people here are here for a reason and it’s to go pro.”

Art stepped closer to you, “But you don’t think that’s you?”

“Not anymore,” You replied, meeting his eyes. “Recovery is amazing but the risk is so high… I’m not even sure I can run yet, let alone sprint and lean side to side on this leg. I want to, I wanted to, but going pro after something like this just doesn’t happen. If I can play again at all, it won’t be good.” You explained. Art nodded through, listening with eyes that held sympathy and a little speck of sadness. “It’s okay, I just… It’s going to take me forever to get over it.”

He shook his head, “You still don’t need to get over it yet. There’s still so much t-”

“I know. I just can’t see it ever happening.” You said. Art pressed his lips into a straight line and he spun on his heel. Comfort wasn’t what you needed- it was a racket. Art lunged and snatched up the one Patrick was toying with and handed it to you. “What?”

Patrick caught on quickly. “Hit the ball.” Art said. “In any form.”

“Art…” You shook your head.

Patrick threw it anyway and even with the crutch, you instinctively stuck out your racket the way you knew how and hit the ball back to him, your aim still on point. “That was good! What the fuck,” Patrick chuckled. Even he couldn’t hit the ball with that much precision. Art laughed, clapping once- and you had your mouth a little open at the tennis reflexes that hadn’t gone anywhere after all this time. You looked at both of them in minor shock and awe and Art just smiled. He wouldn’t let you give up. He couldn’t. You spent the rest of the evening hitting balls where you stood, feeling a lot better about things.

Recovery continued, but so did tennis. In your spare time you were on the court, practicing your serves, hitting the ball, everything to do with arms and eventually when the therapist had you on the treadmill walking, jogging, he cleared you to do it with supervision. That was one of the biggest things you’d heard in a while. Art was out in the hall when you’d heard it and you left the doctor mid-sentence just to go tell him, Art surprised at the speed which you approached him at, being used to you only ever walking. “I can jog!” You said, enthusiasm and passion in your eyes and the familiar fire he knew from when you would play tennis with him.

Your soft hands grabbed his forearms in excitement and Art was a little bit more than aware of it, but the news was amazing. “That’s amazing, that’s crazy, you can jog?”

“I can jog!” You squealed a little as your mom who was in the room with you swung her head into the hallway.

“When he said could he didn’t mean away from him, Y/N, get back in here please!” She called, but she wasn’t pulling the full mom card, she was smiling ear to ear just as you were. “And hi Art.” She said, waving to him. Being your main visitors meant they were acquainted. Art went to coffee with your parents while you were in therapy the week prior, he wondered if they had mentioned it. He hadn’t. Art just waved back.

Soon it was you, Patrick, and Art on the court and your crutches were propped against the bench. You were still a little slow but you’d gotten good at playing where you stood, relying on reach alone and it was quite impressive. You worked on side-stepping instead of lunging and leaning and it helped a lot with having to move around when you needed. It was a lot of laughter but also took a lot of practice and focus to get right. Sometimes you could go for a while, other times not so long, but the rehab had done wonders. This time when you said you were done, Art served the ball and you did lunge for it- both boys afraid, cringing as they watched you rush and lean forward in what seemed like slow motion. But you hit the ball and it flew right at Patrick’s chest and came back into standing position like it was nothing.

“Oh my god,” You gasped. “I’m so sorry.” Patrick put a hand to his chest but both boys looked at you in wonderment, eyes wide, mouths a little open. To tell the truth they both thought you were done for again as you lunged but you were fine, no complaints, no second thoughts- but a second gasp. You realized the move you’d pulled and the second you realized, both boys started blurting out praise and pride and disbelief and you joined in on it. That was tennis. You’d done everything a tennis player needed to do and it was completed with the simplest lunge. Small victories every day.

Art was more than proud. Seeing you back on the court was amazing. He’d take you there alone most days when Patrick didn’t feel like it. This particular day you were both a bit disracted, but the reason why was something you both couldn’t place. Art gave up before you today and you both stood by the edge of the bleachers against the metal bar.

You took a sip of your water, “Are we going back out or are we done?” You asked. Art set down his bottle just past you, reaching around. He looked at you and for the moment he had nothing else in his mind but you. Not tennis, not anything, you.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He said. You smiled immediately, leaning more against the bar next to you. But it just so happened to be closer to him. And you didn’t mind it, it wasn’t anything new but it was definitely close. Very close. You were close and you were smiling at what he said. He blinked a few times, observing your eyelashes, “Your recovery… I mean. It’s a miracle you’re back here.”

You nodded, that perfect smile on your face. You knew how close you were to him, but you didn’t think much of it. You were more focused on his words. Art was always sweet, you enjoyed that about him. “I’d probably be sitting somewhere with a book on how to coach tennis if you didn’t push me this far. You, you are incredible. I am just grateful.”

He laughed, “Me? I might have pushed but you snapped the bone in your leg but you’re out here on the court again because you’ve been at it everyday.” He said, sincerity coating every one of his words. “It’s all you.”

“It’s not all me-”

“With help and support, yes. But if you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be. You want this, getting here to this point was all you.” He swayed just a little closer, not even on his own account just because being close felt right. He wanted you to feel that it was the truth. You looked up at him and he could see his words meant something as your eyes reflected him in the golden light of the early evening. He’d never seen just how gorgeous your eyes are in this light… And you were thinking the very same thing as your lower lip found itself between your teeth.

You and Art shared a thought before stepping back and it was the reminder that you were best friends. Just friends. Good friends. And nothing more. It was the first time it had crossed your mind, but the hundredth time on Art’s. Neither of you would risk it.

The practice continued carefully. You had rest days. You’d been lunging on both legs at this point and your game was coming back around. You were off at a meeting with the Stanford tennis coach about returning properly in the fall, having the meeting so that you could make some exceptions. Art and Patrick sat in his dorm room, Art upside down on his bed, feet up on the wall, and Patrick in Art’s computer chair, spinning. The conversation had been about what to have for lunch when Patrick sparked something else up. “Are we meeting Y/N after her meeting?” He asked.

Art tilted his head back, “Not sure. I could call her when it’s over if you want. Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Patrick said, throwing the hacky sack he was fiddling with at Art’s head, hitting him in the face and chuckling. Art sat up, whipping the bean bag right back at him. “Oh come on-” He groaned. “I know you want to see her.”

“I saw her earlier,” Art deflected, recognizing Patrick’s tone.

“Yeah and?”

“So you want to see her?”

“Sure.” Patrick shrugged. Art shrugged back, pulling on a sweater, whenever Patrick was over, he turned the AC in the room way up. Wasn’t relevant, but the silence while Art was putting on his sweater was near unbearable. Art had the sweater half over his head when Patrick stuck his leg out and kicked him over. “I know you like her!”

“Huh?” Art said, sitting up and fixing the sweater. Patrick pushed him right back over.

“You like her! Y/N!” He said. He couldn’t take it anymore, the obviousness, how clear it was that you two liked each other. It was getting to be sickening. “I know you, I know you like her and you can’t tell me you don’t because I’ve waited this long for you to-” he shoved Art over again when Art came back up laughing- Patrick couldn’t help but laugh too, “-tell me!”

There was no purpose in a lie. “Yeah, I guess so,” Art admit, bracing himself to be shoved again and instead, punching Patrick right in the stomach as revenge. Patrick sat back in his chair in pain. “But Patrick, she’s my best friend. And your friend. It’s tricky.”

“I don’t think it’s that tricky, I mean, she likes you too and it’s obvious,” Patrick said through his stomach pain.

Art laughed again, “She does not. I’m not her type. We’re just friends.”

“You are entirely her type, her criteria is tall and normal build and that’s exactly you!” He gestured widely to Art.

“She did not say that to me when I asked. She told me she doesn’t date guys in sports.”

“She has two football exes, of course she doesn’t date jocks.”

“She said sports.”

“She meant jocks.” Patrick straightened out. “She likes you, Art. She pretty much admit it to me, you can’t tell me otherwise.”

Art just blinked. Patrick wasn’t right- there was no way. He’d had it in his head that he wasn’t even thought of when it came to anything like that with you. But Patrick was usually right, no matter how much Art hated it. “No, she’s-” he groaned, putting his head in his hands and bending to put his head between his knees. “She’s one of my best friends this would fuck everything up.”

Patrick shook his head, “It would be fine, you-”

Art groaned again, “And I tell her I like her and then what?” He brought his head up again. “She thinks I’ve just been here to fuck her? To get on her good side, to be with her through this just to get to her? I only started liking her, really liking her after the incident but I have no way to prove that! What would she think if all of a sudden I tell her and she actually doesn’t feel the way I do? This is so bad, Patrick.”

Patrick just laughed at him, but Art was now able to think about these things aloud. So he was loud. “I promise you she likes you. She’s flirting with you all the time, she’s touchy, she cares a lot about you- more than me, I can attest. She wants you. And as for the injury part- Art, it’s been over a fucking year. She’s not going to think you’re playing the long game.” Art just sighed, but Patrick shoved him over again. “Don’t be a pussy!”

“I’m not a-” he rolled his eyes and shoved Patrick right back, “-pussy. I just- she’s gorgeous and she’s friendly and she’s kind and caring and amazing and I don’t want to risk losing that just because I have some fucking ninth grade crush on her, you know?”

He nodded back, “But it’s not. I’ve seen you with your ninth grade crush and you were a lot more horny about it. You like her. She likes you. I don’t care if you tell her now, but I don’t want you thinking she doesn’t want you too. She does, it’s painfully obvious. And I’ll admit she’s hot as fuck, so I’d hate to see you miss the opportunity!” Patrick explained, hands wildly gesturing. “Plus the tension is fucking awful to be around, I don’t know how you do it.”

Neither did he. With it out in the air Art might have gushed a bit about you. Patrick had never seen him this way- he had so much to say about you and he ended up not calling you, just talking about you for what felt like forever to Patrick. But he didn’t mind.

You continued to get better and better and it was amazing. You felt amazing about your progress. You got up in the morning and your knee only hurt if you hit it off something. And that was normal for most people, so you took pride in it. You hurried over to Art’s dorm in a tank top and shorts, your hair in two braids. It was early morning, you knew that, but you knocked on the door anyway. Art, woken, opened the door and squinted in the light from the hall. He was gorgeous, you thought. His hair wild and messy from bed and his shirt hiked up a little too high from sleep, leaving his waist and mid-line exposed. “Hey.” He said, opening the door for you to come in, fixing his shirt.

“Hi,” you said, trying not to grin too wide. You couldn’t wait, you couldn’t. “I got cleared for a real game!” You squealed and you covered your mouth. You’d only found out late last night so you decided to wait until morning, but it really couldn’t wait. Art took a deep breath in but before he could say anything you were talking again. “It’s a small game. It’s local, it’s a tiny game but it’s a real one and it’s singles. I thought you’d want to know!”

“I- I do want to know, that’s amazing, oh my god!” He was almost as excited as you without the squealing and bouncing around. You were cute when you were excited. “A game is a game, it’s incredible, it’s- you- I-” He stopped himself. The excitement nearly got the best of him. But you were grinning ear to ear over tennis and that was all he cared about. “When is the game?”

“It’s next Sunday,” You giggled. “You’ll come?”

“Is that a question?”

“Well, yeah,” You said, your hands on his forearms like they usually were when you were passionate. Almost like you were scared the passion would sweep you away if you didn’t hold onto something. He loved it.

“No, I’ll be there. And on the sidelines if you let me.”

“You’re absolutely not sitting in the stands again.” You said, chuckling. He grinned.

And when the day of the game rolled around, your mother braided your hair in two french braids for you. She had ironed your entire outfit, even your socks. It was her nerves. But the most nervous one in the room at all times was you. You couldn’t eat, you had a hard time falling asleep, but you got up in the morning refreshed and heart pounding at the impending game. It meant a lot of action but you’d worked for this. It was a small local game at a local court with a few bleachers. It was hardly anything, you reminded yourself. This was your second chance just beginning. You slipped on your dark purple skort and your purple tank top and you made sure you had your lucky racket this time.

Your mom drove you to the court much earlier than needed because you were so on edge and you sat in the hall between changerooms under the bleachers, just doing your breathing to maintain yourself. You were more than glad when Patrick and Art showed up. They didn’t ask if you were ready, they knew it. They just asked where you wanted to go for lunch after the game and debated over if a hot dog counted as a sandwich until your Stanford coach walked in.

“You’re ready?” She asked, grin on her face. You blinked.

“What are you…” This was a local game, not Stanford. You looked at Art and Patrick who were bad at hiding their smiles.

Your coach nodded, “You’ve got this one.” She said. “Now hop to it, they’re waiting.” You looked back at Art and Patrick and they ushered you toward the door. It sounded a bit like a badly-engineered fan at first, going down the hall. Your stomach was already in knots.

They came completely undone as your coach opened the door and the roar of the crowd was near-deafening. You blinked in the daylight, half-shocked by how loud it was before you realized that it was the sound of people. And as your eyes adjusted, you realized that the tennis court bleachers were absolutely packed full of people and they were loud, cheering. It was a local game, you expected families of the players but no, there must have been hundreds of people in the stands. On the side with no stands there were people lining the fences and you could see people beyond people. You turned, taking it all in as they were calling your name, calling your praise. You covered your mouth seeing your peers from Stanford in the front row, including the girl who had been hitting on Art. You recognized all of them and more.

You looked at Art and Patrick who were behind you, unable to control their grins at this point and elbowing each other just a bit. Art was only looking at you. You felt so overwhelmed with gratitude, it rose in your stomach like the drop of a rollercoaster. “How did this- How- there’s so many,” You managed to say.

Patrick beamed, dimples on display, “They’re here for you, if you couldn’t tell.”

Art tugged one of your braids. “Patrick and I might have… posted about it on facebook. But it wasn’t an invite, just the general information of what had happened and that this was your first real game, so technically it was all you.” He smirked, but it couldn’t stay a smirk, just a really big smile. It matched yours.

“It was not me,” You sighed exasperated, but more than happy. Scared. But happy.

“If you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be,” He repeated to you. His thumb grazed your cheek when he let go of your braid. You wanted to hug him, you wanted to jump for joy and scream your head off at how amazing this all was. But you got called to serve.

The screams didn’t die down for any part of the game. You served and the game began and the girl across from you did not feel bad for you and that was clear. She was harsh and hardcore and violent with her swings but you hit almost all of them right back at her at a force and accuracy she couldn’t handle. Art and Patrick on the sidelines were into the game, cheering, calling out remarks on your moves. The moves they’d helped you get back. You were more than grateful with every point you scored. The crowd cheered for both you and your opponent but it was your name you heard screamed out in the crowd.

It got a bit intense at times, you fell behind for a while but came back, then went back down again, then came back up. The halfway point you spent thanking your best friends profusely while they urged you to rest and have water. You got back on the court after that, swinging, hitting, forehand, backhand, pulling a few moves that required the use of the leg you’d broken and though the crowd held their breath, they were more than impressed. Patrick watched Art stop cheering and clapping for a second, noting the way he was so honed in on you, Patrick was sure a bomb could go off behind Art and he wouldn’t notice. Art was proud, that was what he felt. Proud to know you, proud to be your friend, proud to feel the way he did about you because he knew that you were amazing and resilient and so fucking strong. He had never met anyone like you.

You locked eyes with him before your opponent served and he swore he felt something shift, really shift. When this game ended he had to tell you how he felt. He couldn’t go without it, he had to tell you.

The last quarter got increasingly more intense. You fell once at a move that required the leg you’d broken. The crowd gasped and Art lunged to help you up but you did it yourself. And you got right back up. The fall hurt, but no more than it would have a regular person. That was something that drove your confidence way up. You couldn’t even hear the score anymore. You just knew that you were there and you were playing and you couldn’t have been happier, even if you lost. But the buzzer went off and the game was done and it was almost like you went deaf. The cheers stopped, though they really didn’t, in fact they roared louder than ever before and the crowd launched itself into standing, their hands over their heads, mouths open wide absolutely wild.

You knew you’d won. But it wasn’t that important. You had one thought- find Art.

And he wasn��t hard to find. He was there on the sidelines or rather one of the many people who surrounded you when you won. Your other friends, your parents, your coach, Patrick, the staff of the game, and apparently a few nurses who came to see their patient play. But it was Art you reached for. You grabbed his forearms, bracing yourself, your eyebrows furrowing, “I won?” You questioned over the noise, over the hands that congratulated you.

Art, biggest grin on his face, “You won.” He answered. And he didn’t have a second to himself before you reached up, cupping his face and kissing him hard. There was nothing else to do in the presence of the win but kiss him. And he kissed you back just as hard. It felt like all the noise and all of the world was sucked away for a moment when his hands fell on your waist, pulling you closer.

It was a small game with big victories.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds but it was strong, and the feeling of him lingered on your lips when you parted. Nobody was surprised that you kissed. Not your mom, not the nurses, they’d known. You looked at Art and tried not to smile but it was over the second he grinned. You couldn’t help but grin right back as Patrick came in for a crushing hug.

“That was fucking incredible!” He told you. Your cheeks began to hurt from smiling as you hugged everyone over your win. Thing eventually died down after a while, people happily funnelling out, congratulating you. But at the end of things it was just you and Art. Patrick had headed out to bring the car around.

You twisted your mouth to the side, “I can’t believe how many people turned up.” You sighed, content.

“You have that pull.” Art shrugged. “You are probably my biggest tennis inspiration now.”

“Mhm? You want to be me when you grow up?” You teased, stepping closer. Art smirked, but once again he couldn’t maintain it, he just smiled down at you. “I’m your biggest inspiration…”

He wasn’t afraid to put his arms around your waist. “Maybe, maybe not. But you are amazing. And so fucking good at tennis, I’m scared for your real comeback.” He said. You laughed and it was gorgeous. The front part of your braid fell out and around your face. “You’re going to kick my ass.”

Your smile was brighter than the mid-day sun. “You bet.”

Your heart fluttered when he tucked your hair behind your ear again. You both heard the car horn as Patrick beeped from outside the court. “Can I kiss you?” Art asked, pushing your hair behind your ear. You nodded. And this time it was his hand on your jaw, his lips pressing against yours with all of his feeling. It was a kiss untouched by the rush of adrenaline and it was sweet. And it was slow. His lips grazing over yours between kisses, his breath minty from the gum he had just spit out two minutes ago. He held you close and the kiss was full of words yet to be said. You both couldn’t ignore anything anymore. It had been a long time coming. Patrick honked again, but it took you another second before you both pulled away with small smiles. Your hands gently holding his forearms, bracing yourself.

#challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #challengers fic #challengers x reader #art x reader #tinytennisskirt #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x you #art donaldson angst #art donaldson imagine #challengers angst #challengers fluff

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nishirikiluv · 9 months ago

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Twisted Love

Strange Encounter

pairings: yandere!jay x reader

chapter warnings: fear, drugging, a bit of noncon, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: sorry for taking so long to post this! I hope everyone enjoys this, I love feedback so please feel free to let me know what you think! This is my first series as well so I will do my best to make it a good read :) This is not proof read btw so I apologize for any spelling mistakes or other errors!! 🥲

masterlist | chapter 1 | next

It was nearly 1am and you were still in the office finishing up your work. All of your coworkers left around 10pm and the only sound filling the office now has been the click clacks of your keyboard. You haven't taken a break once today, not to eat, get a drink of water, nothing. There was some commotion earlier over a handsome new hire but you didn't have the time to worry about it. The only thing on your mind was finishing this project.

You had been assigned as a group leader for the first time since you started working here. If everything went well you could end up being promoted, so you were determined to not mess anything up.

You had been feeling hungry for a few hours now so you decided that a break would be okay if it was very short. When you got up from your chair you only then noticed how eerie the office looked when it was dark and empty like this. You pushed that thought aside and went to grab your unopened lunch from earlier. It was just some instant ramen and a bottle of soda.

You quickly made the instant ramen and sat back down at your desk to eat. Of course. you didn't want to waste too much time, so you worked a bit while you ate. Suddenly, a strange sound rung out through the large building. It sounded as if it came from afar, maybe not even the same floor you were on. Goosebumps rose on your skin and you suddenly felt extremely uneasy.

You quickly slurped the last of your ramen tossing it away, opting to finish your work tomorrow when people are still present in the office with you.

You made your way down the long narrow hallway to get to the elevator. The already dim lights flickered off and on, between flickers you could see what seemed to be a figure at the end of the hallway. After another moment, the lights settled and you realized there was someone else here with you.

You were completely struck by fear and your body froze up. The figure made its way towards you slowly. You wanted to run but you couldn't get yourself to move. The more he came in to view the more your anxiety heightened, his face was unfamiliar to you but you wondered how he could've gotten in if he didn't work here as well.

It was only a moment more before he stood directly in front of you. He seemed to tower over you, your eyes were leveled with his chest. The strange man reached his hand out to you. "Hello, I'm Jay. Nice to meet you."

What the hell?

You then looked up at him to see quite a good looking man. His facial features were chiseled and his hair was blonde and looked soft and silky. His eyes bore into you in a way that had the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up.

"Are you just going to stare at me? Or are you going to introduce yourself as well." He gestured to his hand that was still awaiting your handshake.

You hesitantly took his hand in yours to shake it. His grip became uncomfortably tight but you gulped down the anxiety that started to rise. "I'm... Y/n. Um it's late, I should probably head home now." You forced a smile, pulling your hand from his and rushing down the hall, not giving him another chance to speak.

He turned to watch you. His eyes never left you through your entire walk down the hallway until you entered the elevator. The lights flickered again as he stood in the hallway, a sinister smirk painted across his face.

It won't be long now, my love.

You rushed home as fast as possible, triple checking the locks on your doors and windows. You don't know what this extremely uneasy feeling was, but you wanted to avoid that man at all costs.

You tried not to think about him and chose to change and get into bed. His face kept appearing every time you closed your eyes. You'd even been startled awake so many times by phantom sounds of his voice calling your name.

You got up to grab a cold bottle of water. You weren't sure if it was paranoia but you heard a cracking sound coming from your room where you'd just left. You grabbed a knife from the kitchen, holding the water bottle under your arm and slowly approached your room.

You took a deep breath before slowly opening the door. You looked everywhere and there was no one to be found. You were relieved but you felt embarrased for hearing those mysterious sounds all night and ruining your sleep over them. You also weren't able to finish your project and that bothered you even more.

You laid down, attempting to sleep once more. Of course having the same outcome and not being able to get enough rest.

Before you knew it your alarm was ringing and it was time to get up and get ready for work. You rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face and haphazardly applying your makeup. You could see dark circles under your eyes but you were too tired to care and the throbbing headache you had was an additional factor to your lack of energy. You quickly got changed and rushed out of the house to get to work.

When you arrived at work you heard more commotion of that new hire. You couldn't have cared less until you caught sight of him. You could see everyone crowding near the desk he was working at. He payed them no mind, just focussing on getting tasks done. Thats when it hit you, it all suddenly made sense. Jay was the handsome man everyone was talking about. That's how he got in last night.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at him as well until he looked up and his eyes met yours. You snapped out of your trance and hurriedly got situated at your desk. After a couple moments he was behind you, spinning your chair to have you face him. You jumped in your seat with a gasp, grabbing onto the arms of the chair. "Jay- What are you-" "I'm joining your group for the project, our supervisor told me to let you know." You looked around seeing the shared whispers between your co workers. You never liked attention, it made you anxious. "You could've told me that without scaring the shit out of me." You rolled your eyes turning your chair back around, but he stopped you. "Is.. there something else." He nodded. You stared at him, shifting uncomfortably and waiting for him to speak. His eyes traced over you, leaving you with the same feeling from the night before.

He leaned closer to you, causing you to back up and leaving you pressed into the desk. His face was inches away from yours and your heart was pounding in your chest. His eyes scanned your face and he softly chuckled, "Stay late after work today, Y/n."

You couldn't formulate a reply, not that he would've waited for one anyways. He left you stuck to your desk and returned to his work without another word. You took a deep breath and gathered yourself, turning back around. You sat idle at your desk for a while.

"Y/n, what was that all about?" One of your coworkers sat at the desk next to yours with a judgemental look on her face. "What? Oh, you mean Jay. Nothing, he was just letting me know he's going to be part of my group for the project." She sighed, "Ah that makes so much sense!" She turned away to her group of friends. They all whispered loudly enough for you to hear. "Of course it was just because of work," one of the girls scoffed. "obviously he wasn't interested in her, shes not that attractive." You rolled your eyes, ignoring their remarks.

You glanced up to see Jay looking over at you. You tried your best to ignore the feeling of his gaze but at one point you'd had enough. You made your way over to the restroom just to have a few minutes without being watched. What's his deal?

You carried on with your day, zoning out everything around you. Once it hit 10pm, everyone began packing up their things and leaving.

"Y/n." You looked up to see Jay hovering over your desk. "Ah, Jay.. you'd asked me to stay late after, right? " He nodded, taking the seat next to you. He pulled your chair in front of his, you sucked in a breath making eye contact with him now. "Is... is this about work..?" He chuckled, placing his hand on your knee. "Of course, I'm just curious about the project." He rubbed your thigh, causing your body to go stiff beneath his touch. "Jay- I-" You quickly grabbed his hand, forcing it to stop. "I have to go." You stood up grabbing your bag and heading for the elevator. He followed shortly after you, his steps matched your pace. He walked slower when you slowed down and he walked faster when you sped up. Once you were inside the elevator you rapidly pressed the button waiting for the door to close. Unfortunately you weren't quick enough, right before it closed he swung his bag through the small gap causing the doors to re-open.

You gasped and harshly pushed your back against the wall of the elevator. He slammed his hands on either side of your head. The dark look in his eye made shivers run down your spine. "You know, it was quite rude how you left just now." You lifted your head to look at him, your eyes welled up with tears formed by fear. You weren't able to speak, he didn't seem to mind your lack of reply though.

You felt uncomfortable by the close proximity between the two of you. The ride in the elevator felt like an eternity to both you and him, for different reasons though of course. Neither of you were able to take your eyes off each other. For you, it was fear. For him, it was lust.

The elevator finally came to its stop, the door opening. "I'II let you go now. Baby. But we'll talk about this later." He left a soft kiss on your forehead before exiting the elevator. You were left with a single tear rolling down your cheek.

You eventually made it home, but of course you were pretty shaken up. You felt so dirty. The second you put your things down you got into the shower. The steaming hot water was all you needed right now. You took a nice long shower and prepared to sleep.

You sat on your bed checking your missed messages when a loud thump was heard. It sounded like it came from your balcony. You got up and peeked through the blinds but there wasn't anything there, so you sat back down. But it happened again. And again. And again. This time you went outside, you looked below, to the sides, and above. But there was nothing. What the hell is going on?

You leaned against the railing, looking out at the street. It seemed to be peaceful, the road wasn't too busy, and the sky was full of stars. It would have been a perfect night

You took a deep breath getting ready to go inside when a hand suddenly clasped over your mouth. You kicked and screamed into the hand. The person's other hand held tightly onto your waist to prevent your thrashing. Their hand was removed from your mouth for less than a second before a cloth was pressed back against it. You tried prying it off but their grip was too strong and so eventually, you lost conciousness.

You woke up on the floor of an empty room with white walls. It was dark but not to the point where you couldn't see. You sat up holding your head in your hands, you felt groggy and had a painful headache.

You looked around the room but there were no windows and no way out other than a single door that you assumed would be locked.

As if on queue you heard the locks being opened and someone came through the door. The lights flipped on and your breath hitched in your throat. "Jay..."

"Hello, Y/n." His saccharine smile made you feel sick. "Why did you bring me here." He knelt down in front of you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Isn't it obvious, I wanted to see you." You pushed his hand away, "Well I don't want to see you." He cooed at you, lifting his hand back up to caress your cheek. "One day you won't feel that way anymore." You pushed him away again but this time he wasn't having it. He pinned you against the cold floor, holding you by your waist. You pushed at his shoulders but he wouldn't budge. His eyes studied every inch of you. Oh how he loved to see you vulnerable like this beneath him. You felt his lips on your neck and immediately you were kicking and punching. He had no trouble holding you down, he liked it more when you put up a fight.

He only stopped when he heard your soft frustrated sniffles. "Shhh Baby, It's not that bad. You'll get used to me." You shook your head, holding back a sob. Jay got up leaving you on the ground. He left the room momentarily, but came back within seconds. He got down and pulled you in for a hug, inhaling your scent. You were too tired to fight him this time, he could tell, so he placed a short peck on your lips while he could. After that you felt a small poke in your neck and you were out like a light.

You woke up to your usual alarm. You shot up looking around, feeling distraught. You were in your bed in your room. But you could've sworn you were with Jay? You had been very stressed with anxious thoughts after the incident in the elevator so could it have been a dream?

It just felt so real..

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x you #yandere enhypen #enhypen imagines #jay park x reader #jay x reader #yandere jay #enhypen jay #enhypen jay x reader

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aggieharkness · 26 days ago

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Have I earned it, mother? Chp. 4

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: Avis has had a really shitty day at work, and to top it all off she finds you at the gas station with Ernie, which pisses her even further. Obviously, the only logical thing to do is to pick you up so you can take her to Dreamland. Whether you are on contract or not, superfluous to the situation.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, swearing, oral (Avis receiving), fingering (Avis receiving), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), mommy kink, praise kink, degrading kink, pet names, tit play, proper dom/sub situation, spanking, bondage, overstimulation, near fainting experience. Consent is sexy people!!!

Authors note: At last, I have finished this chapter. It has taken me a bit longer because I was two seconds away from overworking myself into a mental breakdown, but here we are. I had to do proper research for the topic that I've written, but I understand that this whole thing might not be everyone's cup of tea, still I hope you like it. As always, be gentle but tell me If I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking on something. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. I also accept ideas that you might have or things that you might want to see Avis and reader do. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

Chp. 1 Chp. 2 Chp. 3 Chp.5 Chp.6

Word count: 17K (I've tried but I can't write short stuff for the life of me)

Love requires some spice

-These accounts look really good Ernie. You’ve recovered quite well since the spike in prices during the war, almost as if it never happened.

-What can I say kiddo, I got reliable customers.

Ernie’s office was tidy, only a few cigarette butts on an astray and a few oil stains on the carpet that he had tried to get professional cleaned but wouldn’t budge, the door left wide open so he could check on his business, both of them. It was a regular thing for you to come by his gas station and check on the accounts for him, making sure everything was up to date, that none of his boys was stealing from him, which had happened a few times before, wrapping up the numbers of the previous year so he could start clean once again. He was a nice, good friend that had lent you a helping hand when you had first arrived, lost and unsure what you were supposed to do with your life. You had become his secretary for a few weeks before you had moved to working alongside his boys, though not for long, there wasn’t much market for ladies that take care of other ladies. Still coming by years after that, was no effort, you liked being away form the studio now that everything was so hectic, the smell of oil and rubber a great change from stuffy perfumes and overpriced colognes. There was only one thing currently missing from your life that upset you enough to actually spend such a beautiful day inside this office. You had not seen Avis in over a week, and it was getting a bit under your skin, probably hers as well if the quick longing glares she threw your way when you happened to cross each other’s paths, only for a few seconds, were any indication.

-You can say that again. I’ll just do the math, fill up my book and be on my merry way.

-Whatever you need to do Y/N, you know I love having you around to give me an interesting topic of conversation. None of the “I’ve come here to become an actress, to fulfil a dream” talk that I hear all the time from my boys. No, you come and talk about the stock market and other stuff that makes me wonder where you read about all that.

-The hairdresser I go to has some interesting magazines.

He chuckled at your comment, standing from his chair and heading to rest his back against the doorframe, observing the cars that came and went, popping a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting in. As much as he loved what he did you knew he missed the opportunity of becoming something more, something great on a screen, to have his name up in lights on marquees and posters. He wasn’t a bad actor, he just didn’t have the same chances others around him had had, which in your most humble opinion was a shame. He was a good actor, he had to be as a gigolo, made sure he kept his clientele happy and with a good chance of returning, but it wasn’t exactly what he had dreamt about since he was a kid. But you could not deny that his current line of business was doing great, your eyes drifting to the wiggly lines that were written before you, even if Avis had not come to visit him since she had got with you, her last boy, Jack, forgotten in a corner of her mind along with the rest of them. She had no need for them anymore, you filled up all her emotional needs and sexual cravings without issue. Ernie tapped the butt of his cigarette, ash falling on the floor, before turning his head towards you again, that charming smile gracing his lips.

-Now, how’s the studio, everything going well?

-As expected, I mean the atmosphere is rather strange among the higher ups but everything else remains the same. Well, not everything. Avis is busting her ass off all the time, and I hardly get see her at all. I think the last time was like a week ago and we only had a short lunch date because she had a meeting, and she had to rush off.

-She was never good with pressure; she tends to let it crush her and by the time she realises, she’s already under the rubble. I saw it happen when she first had her kid, she was so run down that I thought she would drop dead right in front of me. You trying to help her?

-Of course, but Miss Kincaid is keeping me busy, and I haven’t had the chance to go up to Avis’s office yet. I was thinking of doing something on the weekend now that the weather is getting nicer. Maybe a picnic or take her down to the beach, what do you think?

-A date with you in public? No offense kid, but she’ll kill you. – the sound of a car arriving had him tear his eyes from you to take a look, puffing some smoke out of his nostrils. He signalled to a blond man that was sitting by the door to attend to the lady, waving his hand at the woman that was in the car, though from your position you could not see how it was. Ernie quickly returned to the conversation. -I’m pretty sure she loves to be with you, but photographers lurk in every corner and now that she’s in control of the studio, even more. She’s a good woman but she’s also a very important woman.

-I suppose you are right. Things were easier when Mr. Amberg was still around.

-I never thought I’d see the day when someone actually said that they missed Ace Amberg.

-I don’t miss him; I miss how easy he made it for me to be and sleep with his wife. – the snort that he gave startled you at first, but upon repeating the words in your head you realised just how it must have sounded, after all it was pretty odd the situation you and Avis had and what role her husband played in all of it. A small chuckle escaped from your lips after a moment, your hand on your forehead rubbing the skin. - Okay, that sounded really weird. All I want is to be able to make her relax, let her hair down even if its only for a minute. This job is going to kill her if she doesn’t stop a little.

-That’s Avis alright, she speeds down the freeway and doesn’t brake until the very last minute, if she brakes.

-How about a date at her place? We could have a picnic in her own garden. No photographers, no worries and she’s in a comfortable environment that will make her feel relaxed.

-Now, that’s an idea. -he stubbed the cigarette with his foot before walking out into the workshop, you following suit to keep the conversation going. The warmth of the sun was a welcome change from the cold that had settled in the first few weeks of January, now pushed to only a few hours during the night before the sun came out and made the entirety of Hollywood forget their coats and pick up jackets. It kissed your skin gently over your white cardigan and flowy baby blue dress. Ernie kept talking, moving from adjusting a few screws on the carburettor of an old Mercedes to starting an oil change on a newer Lincoln continental. - I swear if I had a branch in this business just for dates, you would crack it kid. My number one star, wooing ladies like its Valentines Day.

-Don’t give me any ideas or I might do the numbers and see how much it could earn us.

-If it’s a lot, go for it. – he laughed loudly, his voice muffled slightly by the metal hood above his head. He started speaking again a few instants later, your hand resting on the side of the car as you took the sun in, but your gaze moved towards his legs, the only thing you could see of him, as his tone was now a bit different, more serious, as if he actually wanted to get an honest answer to his question. -How is Avis handling everything?

-She was socked about it all at first, devastated when she thought she might become a widow; she wasn’t sure she could handle being the wife of the late Mr. Amberg, although he’s not dead, yet anyway. She was upset that her daughter didn’t seem affected, but now they are both doing rather well. Avis moved from the panic of having to plan a funeral onto the panic of running the studio pretty fast, but you know, her and Ace…

-Yeah. It was way worse in the beginning, when she still thought he might love her back. It was horrible to see her coming to me crying, heartbroken. Now they could kill each other if they were not civilised. He hurt her pretty badly and she won’t ever forgive him. It was a shitty ride for her, no wonder she’s moved on so fast from his heart attack.

-She still goes to see him when she can, Miss Kincaid told me, but she doesn’t stay too long. She practically goes to see if he’s still alive and then goes home. She probably talks to him a little, but not much more than that. I mean he can’t talk back to her; she’s probably telling him all the shit that she’s always wanted to scream at him, letting all the anger out. Even though she hates him, she stills cares enough to not want him to die.

-She’s always going to care. She loved him, that’s not something easy to forget, at least for some people. But you don’t have anything to worry about, she’s not going to push away and hop back into the arms of her husband the minute he wakes up. You are doing her a lot of good and my business a lot of damage.

-Sorry not sorry, but you know I’m good and that I keep my ladies satisfied, at least this one in particular for the foreseeable future, if not forever. You are going to have to find yourself another Avis that pays well and comes frequently.

-Does she have any friends that are exactly like her?

-Oh, no, Ernie. She’s one of a kind.

The sound of a motor made you turn, that well known black Cadillac pulling into the station and parking on pump one. You felt your heart leap in your chest, a stupid smile plastered on your lips. Avis was right there, behind the wheel, her sunglasses on, leopard print hat pinned on the side of her hair, her hands, covered by her bright magenta gloves, resting over the wheel. You noticed how her stand was rigid; it was quite obvious to eyes like yours that were attentive to her every little detail, from the way her lips were curled into a thin line to how hard she was holding onto the steering wheel, her knuckles probably white under her gloves. You kicked Ernie with your foot, signalling for him to get out from under the car, his eyes landing straight on Avis as soon as he pushed himself off the floor, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he made his way to his best client, that charming smile faltering a bit when he greeted her and she only bit back with an order to fill up the tank. Oh, she was mad, like really pissed, someone must have upset her greatly at the office today, you thought. Ernie was still trying to talk with her, make conversation you gathered by the way his mouth was moving, and like a resort Avis suddenly whipped her head to meet you, pushing her glasses down to reveal a pair of beautiful big brown eyes wide open, surprised and slightly shocked at seeing you there. You could not tell if she was upset that you were there, but she moved her hand over the car door and motioned for you to approach her. You obeyed without complain, your flats making no sound against the grey floors and road as you walked to meet her, Ernie continuing to fill the tank as if he had not just ratted you out to your girlfriend. It’s not that you didn’t want to see her, but you kind of didn’t want her to find you here, of all places, after all you had not told her about your first job in Hollywood yet.

-What the hell are you doing here? – okay, she was mad at you now as well, brilliant. You gave her one of your charming smiles, innocent and proper, her submissive little girl but it didn’t seem to do you any good, she still looked at you with fury in her eyes as she removed her sunglasses all together. Did she think you were actually working here?

-I’m simply helping Mr. West with the accounts, ma’am.

-Do you think me stupid? – her eyes were narrow as she bent over the car door, her face a foot from yours, her perfume mingling with yours perfectly as you breathed it in, a shiver running down your spine when she lifted her hand and grabbed the collar of your dress yanking you hard until only a few inches separated her from you. She was delighted to see you, that Avis could not deny, but she was beyond livid at finding you here looking completely relaxed, at home. You were not one to engage with gigolos but you clearly knew Ernie well enough that he would allow you to be around like this, which meant you had to be providing a service, or a favour, her eyes looking at you with a mix of anger and lust, the fabric of her glove touching the flesh of your collarbone drawing goosebumps. If only her hands were touching you without the magenta barrier, you thought. – How many women have you fucked while you are supposed to be with me Y/N?

-None, ma’am. I’m not on contract here. I’m simply helping with accounts I promise.

So, you weren’t working here, you were only doing maths, okay, she could live with that, not that the idea of picking you up from here so you could indeed provide her with a certain type of service didn’t excite her. You were such a proper girl all the time, the affair that you were having with her aside, of course, you never did anything that could be considered naughty, not that she knew of, at least, but Avis’s mind was already imagining you walking towards her in a tight uniform, charming her, showing off your assets so she would pick you over any of the other boys in that station. She got hot under her own collar, your sweet eyes doing things to her that should be illegal, her mind racing through all the scenarios that she could come up with, all the things she could to you, that she would do to you.

-I can vouch for her, Avis, she hasn’t…

-Quiet, Ernie. – she lifted a hand towards him while still holding you in front of her, the man picking up the husky tone that laced her command, closing his mouth and wrapping up his job at the pump before locking the fuel deposit. It was so easy for her anger to turn into lust and desire when you were involved, that delightful dress you were wearing showing off your cleavage perfectly for her eyes to feast on, your breaths rapid under her touch. She could picture you popping a button open so your ample breasts would claim her eyes, all her attention. – Are you such a slut that you need to come here? Have others fuck you until you can’t take it anymore? Until you are satiated?

-No ma’am, you are the only one who touches me and you keep me perfectly satisfied every time.

-Is that so? – her voice was so low, so full of lust and power that you could feel your body reacting profoundly to her words, her hand letting go of your dress as she rested her body back against her car seat and yet you did not move, you only bent forward a bit more seeking her touch, her closeness. She thrived in the way you were so eager to have her, that you were such a submissive little girl for her. She smirked, moving her glasses back over her nose but not over her eyes, still fully taking you in, your eyes locking with hers, her pupils dilated and full of desire. You didn’t think she was into role play, but it was clear that this entire thing was heading that way, and you were not against it at all. - Well, I’m far from satisfied right now.

-Are you ma’am? We can’t have that, can we?

-Are you on the clock girl? – she picked up her purse, pulling out her cigarette case, but your hand gently shot to grab it, pushing it to the side. No need to blow up the station. She picked up on what you meant by that simple movement and left it fall over the dark leather of her car, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill from her purse instead and placing it underneath the strap of your bra making sure to brush the top of your breast before sitting back, pointing her head towards Ernie who was back in the workshop overlooking the entire interaction. – I need more than just my car pumped.

-For you I’m always on the clock, ma’am.

-Good then. I wish for you to take me to Dreamland girl, I believe mama has some pent up tension that she needs to release.

It took you a second to run towards Ernie to hand him the twenty, returning to Avis’s car without slipping over any puddles of oil. Upon reaching the Cadillac you pushed your hair back and smoothed your dress, walking slowly around the hood of the vehicle making sure to sway your hips to give her a show and oh, did she feast on you. Her eyes followed your frame so closely, her lower lip in between her teeth, the temperature around you both spiking. You slipped beside her, your dress bunching up over your upper thighs, which you were going to correct after closing the door, but she stopped you, placing both your hands against the leather of the seat on each side of you, her face inches from yours. You saw the way she stared at your lips, but she didn’t kiss you, couldn’t kiss you here for everyone to see so she pulled back. Lever down, car in first gear and Avis practically flew away from the station, Ernie laughing and waving at you both as he watched the car vanish around the corner before returning to his office. You had left the accounting records on a chair right there, but it did not matter, you were going to be busy for a while, he hardly thought your priority would be the station’s numbers. The road Avis was driving on was not the usual way she took to get to her place, but upon glancing at a sign you saw that it was the way to the Beverly Hills Hotel. It was risky to go with her to such a public place but then again you knew she was a bit of an exhibitionist, maybe the idea of the press seeing her with you turned her on, it sure turned you wild with desire, but you did not move your hands, as much as you wanted to run them up her thighs while she drove. She felt your eyes racking over her body, the need for you building deep within her core blending with the anger she still felt from the horrid day she had had.

Ever since her husband had had his heart attack, fucking Lon Silver was just stuck to her back, like a shadow following her everywhere she went. He drove her insane with the way he talked as if she was dumb, as if he was the only one who could take care of the studio when Ace had left it to her, not him, but of course he was overstepping, like always, trying to get her to quit or for her to turn the job to somebody else he could get to do his bidding. No fucking way, not while there was still breath in her body. She wasn’t doing any of this because the studio was Ace’s life work, she didn’t give a shit whether he would like what she was doing or not once he woke up, if he woke up, she just wanted to either wipe that fucking smirk off of Lon’s face or wipe him of the face of the Earth all together. She could not quite decide which would bring her more satisfaction. She felt the anger rising again, steaming out of every single pore in her body as it became stiff on her seat, which you quickly picked up on. Her eyes were glued to the road, speeding down the avenue without so much as glancing your way trying to tempt you, test you and see if you wanted her as much as she wanted you like she would have done under other circumstances. You knew you could ask her exactly what she desired you to do, if there was anything she wanted to release some of the tension, but you did not want her to get frustrated by your questions seeing as her mind had raced back to whatever had happened to her throughout the day pissing her off once more. With careful movements your hand made contact with the fabric of her stocking, under her skirt and over her right thigh; her breath hitched in her lungs but she did not push you away, your fingers rubbing and kneading the flesh, moving it upwards very slowly savouring the hums that she was making, a gasp escaping her when you brushed them on her inner thigh, fingering the top lace of her stocking.

You were supposed to take her to Dreamland, no? Might as well start relaxing her from the very beginning. You scooped your body closer to hers, your thigh practically touching hers without stopping your movements that had now turned towards the in between of her legs, inching closer and closer to her centre but never touching her; you only wanted to relax her, there would be plenty of time for you to tease her and please her later. Your head moved to the crook of her neck, pecking the skin above her coat and outfit, a quiet moan slipping through her slightly ajar lips. You were pushing your luck with this behaviour since the top of the car was down, your actions out for the world to see, but Avis couldn’t care less, your tender kisses seeping under her skin, the tension slipping out of her shoulders and limbs. You were just what the doctor ordered, and it had been too long since you two had been together, she needed every bit of attention you were giving her, that she allowed you to give her. For now. Even her foot lifted a little from the accelerator letting the car slow down as the hotel came into view a few yards away. You had to pull away, much to her dismay, when the people on the streets became too many for you to continue, Avis swerving and stopping the car by the front doors. While she stepped out of the vehicle to pull a suitcase from the trunk before throwing her keys to a young valet you slipped from the passenger’s seat as the perfect image of a proper lady, hands clasped in front of you, coming to meet Avis by the front doors, her head motioning for you to follow her.

The lobby was spectacular, the walls and floors dressed in white marble with a round area in the centre framed by four columns that fit the same theme, separating a round zone with armchairs from the rest of the room. There were glass tables spread all throughout with vases of fresh flowers that diffused sweet floral aromas all throughout the lounge, carpets that were probably worth more than your entire apartment covering the marble patterned floors, a beautiful glass chandelier topping of the majesty of the room. You had never been here before, you had heard of it and had seen it upon passing by, but you had never ever been in there, which made this whole experience with Avis a thousand times better. People greeted her as she made her way to the front desk, smiling politely and stepping aside as if she owned the place, who knew maybe she did, everything was possible were Avis was concerned, the man that was sitting behind the counter smiling and handing her a key without so much as an explanation. It was clear they knew her enough to not ask unnecessary questions, as if she had done this before, which you knew she had, it was no secret for you that Avis had frequented the gas station for more than gas, though now it was not necessary. You knew she had brought all those boys here but none of them shared with her what you did, none of them mattered to her one single bit. She did care for Ernie, they had been friends and sex partners for over a decade now, but he had made it very clear to you when you had told him that you and Avis were a thing that he had no interest in being with her romantically, that he was still waiting for the one that would make him retire and much to his dismay she was not the one.

Being shown towards the elevators you could not help but feel that this time things were special. You did not feel cheap or upset that you both were role playing like this, she wasn’t treating you like someone who was going to offer her a service and call it a day, no she made sure to always keep an eye on you, to signal you to walk beside her, never a few steps behind like at the beginning of your relationship, to make you feel protected and cared for. She was not going to do anything that could make you feel bad simply because she wanted to, this was a partnership and if you didn’t feel comfortable, she wasn’t going to push her needs and wants onto you the same way that she expected you to not cross lines with her. But by the way your eyes were glinting under the light of the lamps on the wall as the sun began to go down, afternoon blending into evening, she was sure you were excited and filled with anticipation and desire, wondering where the night might take you. You noticed the way she kept you close to her, her hands brushing yours as you stepped into the elevator, Avis pushing the button for the second floor, but since she had sped away from the station, she hadn’t uttered a single word. It intrigued you why she would not engage you in some sort of playful banter, but she wasn’t mad, her body was relaxed, and her fingers toyed with your fingers and the fabric of your cardigan, throwing glances behind her sunglasses that you could feel in your bones. What was going through that pretty head of hers?

The bell of the elevator rang signalling it had arrived at the desired destination, its doors opening for the two of you to reveal a set of stairs draped in a beautiful green carpet that extended all along an empty foyer, not a soul in sight. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt her hand holding onto yours, her steps calm and steady as you both walked down the hallway, the carpet decorated with a diagonal pattern you noticed upon glancing down to the floor following the movement of Avis’s legs and hips, the walls painted with big banana leaves over a light pink background. She pulled you past door after door until you both reached the opposite side of the hallway, a big window letting the warm sunlight through a set of thin white curtains, its yellowish beams reflecting on a white door situated on the left side, hidden behind a corner. Of course they would give her a secluded room. She let go of you to push the key in and open the doors, pulling you in gently, a smirk on her lips. You could see her fangs through her ajar mouth, her hands pushing you against the now closed door after dropping the suitcase unceremoniously on the floor, her face inches from yours. You thought she was going to crash her lips against your mouth and kiss you until you lost your mind, but you were proved mistaken when instead she kissed your cheek and with slow agonizing pecks she travelled down your jawline, a gasp sliding out of your throat when you felt her tongue lick the underside of your jaw and the flesh of your upper neck. Your hands were pressed against the wood, itching to touch her but something in the back of your mind told you that she would not allow it.

Just as unexpectedly as she had pressed you against the door she pulled away and began to walk towards the living area of the suite. You had not had time to look around, not that you could pay much attention to the light pink coloured walls and matching furniture set, as your eyes were glued to Avis as she removed the coat off her shoulders, draping it over the back of an armchair, unpinned her hat and removed her gloves, both items resting on a small white coffee table in between the easy chairs before turning to face you, her sunglasses coming off slowly so she could stare at you. Behind her the curtains flowed gently to the warm breeze that was coming through the open windows, making a rogue curl that must have fallen of her complicated hairdo, sway near the nape of her neck, the fiery tones complementing the palette of the room, with its gentle pink tones, perfectly. Her chest rose and fell with each rapid breath; was she… nervous? Her hands were holding onto the top of an armchair, knuckles turning white as the seconds passed. You could not understand why she would feel this way, it’s not as if this would be your first time together, perhaps you had misinterpreted her body language and she was in fact, excited, lusting after you, staking like a predator. Slowly you took a step towards her, her head held high with a raised eyebrow, a gentle smirk on her lips, so you took another and since she did not stop you, only waited, you closed up the space that separated you. Your hands rose in the air to take her face in between them, but Avis stopped you, her grip tender as she pulled you towards a different room where a cart with drinks and two couches rested over a light-coloured carpet, sitting you down. She turned away from you to prepare herself a martini, sitting herself opposite after a moment with the small glass in her hand. She took a sip before lifting her head to look at you, her legs crossed as you waited for her to speak with hands resting over the fabric of your skirt.

-Before we go any further, If I asked you to try something with me, would you? – her voice was clear, business like, forcing you to stare wondering why the sudden change in the atmosphere, waiting for her to finish taking another sip of the drink, curiosity filling your chest. Avis had been thinking about this for a while, since your first encounter when you had told her that you liked it rough in bed. At first, she had thought that it meant a few pulls of hair, but when it had slipped out of your mouth in the throes of passion the possibility of her tying you down, she had begun to do the research. She had asked people about it, had looked around shops and such; she had made up her mind about this.

-It depends. What do you have in mind?

-I want to test your boundaries, see how much pain you can take until the pleasure is no longer that, how much it would take for me to overstimulate you, among many other things. I want to dominate you. – she spoke while her eyes locked with yours, the power that was emanating from her intoxicating, making you shiver on the spot. She wanted to mix pleasure and pain? She wanted to do what you thought she wanted to do? It surprised you and yet it felt fitting for a woman like her with such a commanding presence altogether.

-Dominate me? What made you think of this?

-You said you liked it rough. I’m simply wondering, how much?

-I don’t know, no one has truly bothered to do such a thing with me. – she took another sip from her martini before patting the seat next to her. You did not hesitate and slid right beside her, her hand toying with the hem of your dress as she spoke, delighted in the way your body responded to her gentle touches and brief caresses of your thigh.

-Then would you agree to let me do this? Share this experience together?

-What exactly would it mean for me?

-Many things. I want you to understand that this whole thing is for the both of us, not just me. If there is something that you don’t want to do or try, make sure to tell me, I won’t proceed at all unless we are both sure about it. – she bent forward, only a foot separating her face from yours, her hot breath tainted with the slight aroma of gin filling your lungs, your breaths rapid, heart beating hard against your ribs. What she was saying carried a lot of implications, a lot of things that you would love to try with her, it scared you but it also excited you, and it was clear that she had been through this idea in her head more than once and more than twice.- Though there must be rules set in place for this, honey.

-Like when we were at the dealership?

-Something similar. – her face was now inches from yours, her voice low and husky as she spoke, her hand now fully under your skirt. She knew you would be on board by the time this conversation was over, perhaps she might have had you from the very beginning, either way, just having her lips so close and yet so far drove you insane. – Rule number one. You are mine and only mine, you are not allowed to touch or sleep with someone who is not me the same way I’m not allowed to be with anyone who is not you. Understood?

-Yes ma’am.

-You are not allowed to touch me or yourself unless I grant you permission, the same way that if I tell you to be quiet, to look at me or to be loud, you will comply. You will only address me as ma’am or mother; if you say anything else, you will be punished. You don’t have the right to beg or plead with me or for me to let you do anything, I am in charge and will chose when you can do something. And if I have not stated that you can, then you must always think that you can’t. Your main goal is to please me so you can be granted permission, for what? That is for me to decide. I can do to you whatever I want, taking on account that your safety takes priority over everything else, so you can’t escape me or pull away from me or contradict me in any way, if you do, you will be severely punished. And lastly… you can’t cum until I say so. Are these rules agreeable to you?

-Yes, ma’am.

-Good girl. -she pecked your cheek, your damn cheek! It was torture to have her literally telling you she was going to do things to you that might leave you like jelly on her bed and yet she denied you her mouth. She sat back, taking a sip from her martini, the hand that had been playing with you now resting on the back of the couch. Your eyes were full of lust, gazing up at hers with a beseeching tone but she did not move from her spot; she had not even begun, and you were already imploring silently for her to touch you. It was utterly delicious. - There is a system to make sure that if things get too much for you, you can tell me, and I will immediately stop. A set of safe words. If you can take more than what I’m giving you must say white, if you need a moment to gather yourself you must say orange and if I’m pushing you too much, if you fear I’m going to hurt you or you are already in pain, say black and I will stop completely. Being rough with you doesn’t entitle me to hurt beyond how much you want me to, understood?

-Yes ma’am. I have a question. You will pleasure me and hurt me and treat me exactly like I said I wanted you to, but what do you get out of this Avis?

-Control. Anything I command you to do you will have to comply with or you will be punished, and it is I and only I who choses exactly what happens to you. You are mine to do as I please with. Do you understand exactly what will transpire here if you agree?

-I do.

-And do you agree Y/N? – she waited for a few seconds, although they felt like hours to her. You knew perfectly well what she wanted to do and to be fair and honest you could not think of a person better than Avis to share it with. If anyone was going to fuck you beyond comprehension while she tied you to a pipe or something, who better than the woman who loved you and cared for you.

-I do.

And suddenly it was as if a switch had been flipped and she was grabbing the collar of your dress and pulling you hard against her, her mouth crashing against yours. It caught you by surprise, a yelp escaping your lips, but it ended up muffle by Avis’s mouth, her tongue tracing the outline of your lower lip so you would grant her access to your mouth, which you did. It was messy and so very intoxicating to have her battling and exploring your mouth so intensely, her free had on the back of your neck to keep you in place. Your lungs were screaming for air but you did not want it to end, the feeling of her teeth biting down on your lower lip before she pulled back altogether nearly making you whine at the loss, your eyes watching Avis downing the rest of her martini before standing from the couch. You sat there unsure of what to do, after all you were supposed to follow her cues and commands, but she had given none. She left the room only to come back a minute later with the suitcase she had left by the door, pushing the French door that separated this room from the bedroom and dumping it over the mattress. Slowly she turned to look at you, a hand resting on the door frame as she lifted her hand, her index finger signalling for you to approach her. On shaky legs you stood and made your way to her, your heart beating so fast you believed she could hear it, her right hand moving to trace the line of your jaw, her voice quiet, nearly a whisper in your ear.

-Undress me.

The outfit she was wearing hugged her curves in all the right places, but it was obviously a bit stuffy, work clothes that she desired to get rid of and you were there to please after all. Your hands went up to her neck, tracing the outline of the outfit until your hands were running down her front, fingers working slowly on each button, pushing the jacket open after a few moments. Her eyes watched your every move, laced with such ardour that she feared she might make you combust or perhaps it was she who might end up in flames. The blouse underneath was white satin, thin and so very distracting with the way it plunged down low revealing the top of a white and pink corselette, Avis’s breasts moving hurriedly with each breath she took. You could not get enough of her, the way her skin looked peppered with freckles, the way it felt under your palms, it was absolutely maddening. You pulled the blouse out of her skirt, undoing the rest of the buttons to fully reveal her undergarments from the waist up, your hands running down her sides to her hips, pressing her against you. She gasped at the action and was about to reprimand you about how she had not told you to do that until she felt you turning her around, her back now against your chest. The way your lips landed on the back of her neck as your hands trailed up to her shoulders, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts, felt wonderful, the anger that she had felt sliding down her arms along with her jacket and blouse, leaving her flesh exposed for you to touch. Your fingers ghosted over the flesh of her upper arms, tracing lazy patterns as your kisses moved to the crook of her neck and onto her left shoulder, retracing your steps so her right side wouldn’t be neglected. She was humming in approval, moving her head to give you better access, feeling how your arms moved from her hands to her hips, fingering the waist of her skirt until you located the zip, pushing it down slowly until the garment fell on its own down her legs, pooling at her feet. She was only dressed in her undergarments now, your hands travelling to unclasp the first hook of her corselette, but Avis was quick to stop you, pushing her body off of yours to sit on the settee at the foot of the bed with her eyes racking over your body, resting an elbow on the mattress.

-You are quite overdressed dear. Take it off. All of it.

How could she turn you on so hard with just one command? It was insane. Your hands shook in anticipation as you lifted them to remove your jacket, letting it fall on the floor at her feet, before rising them once again to undo the buttons on the front of your dress, Avis’s eyes watching as you popped each open, revealing your peach coloured brassier and the creamy skin of your abdomen as your hands carried on downwards until the dress hung lose from your shoulders. She was eating you alive with her eyes, tracing her lips with her own tongue at the sweet sight of your matching lacy knickers and nude stockings clasped to a garter belt. You had invested in new lingerie Avis noticed quite pleased. Those modern garments sure suited a woman like you, the translucent fabric letting her see your rosy nipples trapped behind that beautiful garment that complimented your skin beautifully. It was no effort whatsoever to shimmy out of the dress, the flowy material pooling around your feet in a mass of blue, leaving you before Avis in your underwear.

You took one step towards her causing her to raise an eyebrow, and then another letting your dainty foot slip out of your flat, placing the tip of your toes on the edge of the settee, your left leg right beside her as you bent forward to unclasp your stocking, rolling it down your leg and dropping it at her feet, doing the same thing with your right leg, your garter belt the next garment to leave your body, on top of the growing pile of clothes that you were leaving at her feet. It was such a normal action to remove one’s stockings, but the way you had done it was simply lascivious, your breasts pressed against your thigh practically escaping from their confinement, your fingers sliding down your legs as if to tease her, to tempt her. Returning to the spot you had just left you gave her your back, hands unclasping your brassiere before stretching your arm and letting it fall, watching Avis over your shoulder. Her pupils were blown wide, her lower lip in between her teeth, the hand that was resting on the mattress gripping the covers while the other rubbed her own thigh. She was waiting for you to finish so she could pound on you, you could feel it in the way she was looking at you, your knickers absolutely drenched as you pushed them down your legs, kicking them aside. Every inch of your body was uncovered, free for her to see and touch at last. Slowly you turned to face her, a gasp escaping her parted lips at the sight of you, pushing herself into a sitting position, the lust that was filling her up making the embers of a fire start building into flames deep in her core. After a moment of raking her eyes over your body she locked them with yours. The game was on.

-My my, aren't I a lucky girl, with such a pretty little thing standing there so bare for me. But I think you would look even prettier kneeling at my feet, wouldn’t you say?

Positioning yourself on all fours you crawled, pushing the clothes that had been shed to the sides so they wouldn’t be in the way, your hands inches away from her heels when you stopped, lifting your head to look at her. She bent forward and grabbed your face forcefully, compelling you to sit on the heels of your feet to meet her face at the level she wanted, your hands clasped in your lap, nipples hard due to the breeze that was coming into the room from the big balcony, its curtains swaying, flowing like water. Your inner thighs were coated with your arousal, and something told you that by the way her eyes were absolutely blown wide she could smell it, and it was driving her mad with lust.

-You are being such a good girl for mama, but why don’t you put that mouth of yours to good use.

She let go of your face, pushing you back slightly and lifted her leg, the sole of her shoe coming to rest on your thigh. She had said mouth, she hadn’t said anything about hands, so you lifted them and lulled your head to the side in a questioning manner. She smiled; you were so diligent with the rules, remembering that back in the dealership she had told you not to speak unless she granted you permission, her eyes observing you for a moment before she nodded, relaxing back against the mattress, propped up on her elbows to watch you. Every path your fingers trace over her skin sent a shiver down Avis’s spine, your mouth kissing the arch of her foot, like a craving for her that you just couldn’t fulfil as your hands gently removed her shoe. Even her stockings tasted expensive as your kisses trailed up her shin, fingers massaging the ball of her foot, around her ankle, through her calf, drawing quiet moans and hums that filled the room so easily. She was exquisite under your touch. Upon reaching her knee you lifted her leg over your shoulder to lick the perfect hollow where her calf and thigh met, sucking the silk in your mouth leaving a wet spot behind as you gave it a resting place over your shoulder to carry on with your journey up her thigh.

You were kneeling before her so readily, her eyes moving from your movements on her leg to the way your back arched as your lips went further upwards, the way your ample breasts and perky nipples swayed with each motion your body made. Avis could feel how she was responding to your ministrations, her corselette feeling a bit tight around her, the lacy fabric of her knickers positively drenched already in between her legs. You kept going, your lips leaving pecks around the lacy top of her stockings while your hands keened the flesh around the clip, and then with one swift motion it came undone in your hand, fingering the hem as you made your way to the back of her thigh to unclip the other. Painstakingly slow the garment was removed from her leg leaving her free for you to touch at last, no barriers preventing you from licking and tasting her sweet skin, your teeth scraping the soft flesh on her shin as you finally let the stocking fall on the floor. It was maddening the way your nails raked over her thigh, red angry marks painting her flesh, which with a smirk she realised she had not told you to do. There was sudden jolt of pain when her hand made contact with your head and pulled your hair tight so her face was inches from yours, your scalp burning deliciously as the pain became pleasure in a quick instant.

-Well, what a naughty girl, taking such liberties. – your head was lulled back as the grip on your hair became stronger, more painful and yet you did not speak, simply stared at her, a new gave of arousal pooling in between your legs. - If you step out of line just one more time, I will have to punish you, and you don’t want mama to get angry, do you?

Your head shook, a triumphant smile on Avis’s lips as she brushed her lips over yours before releasing you. The first mistake she could pass, but a second one she would not indulge, part of her hoping you would trip so she could indeed punish you while the other half wanted to see just how obedient you could be. Your attention was now on her other leg, hands shaking slightly but not in fear, it was a mix of lust and excitement sprinkled with a certain level of curiosity that you could not avoid, she was in control after all. Her shoe was hanging from the tip of her toes when you placed your hand on her calf to lift it, watching as the black pump fell to the floor on its own with a plop, her foot at the perfect angle with your face so your lips could kiss the arch. This time you made sure to give it a little bit more of attention, the pads of your fingers massaging and releasing the tension of being on her feet throughout the day, moving from her toes to her sole and the ball of her foot while peppering tender kisses around her ankle. You were making up for your slipup, it was quite obvious, but she was not going to complain when your hands were so eager to please her and keep her in a contented cloud, the small specks of anger and tension that had still clung to her skin, slipping into the ether. Once satisfied with the way she hummed as she let her body fall back onto the mattress, utterly relaxed, you began to move upwards, each kiss leaving a wet spot over the silk that you were so very tempted to rip with your teeth, but you were pretty sure she would count that as stepping out of line. Some other time, you thought.

Your lips were busy kissing around her knee, but your hands were trailing upwards until she felt you fingering around the lacy top of her stocking. You were being deliberately slow, toying and playing with the clip but never unclasping it, your lips teasing her thigh only to return around her knee once again, driving her into an impatience that she could only tolerate so much. When you felt her body shift and rest on her elbows, her eyes narrow as they locked with yours, you quickly picked up on the fact that you were pushing your luck and moved quickly to unclasp the front and back clips before pushing the garment off her leg. She smiled approvingly, but you were not quite done, you had neglected her thigh and that could not be. Finally, you began to move upwards, your pecks turning into gentle nibbles the closer you got to her inner thigh, biting down hard on your preferred spot, running your tongue over the red mark to soothe the sting. She gasped in surprise letting pleasure taint it as her head fell back to take in every single sensation you were giving her, but even though she enjoyed it immensely, and you knew she did, you had slipped, a naughty smirk painting her lips. She let you finish your work of kisses with one single peck on the joint of her hip and leg before her body lurched forward and her hand grasped your hair again. A hiss escaped your lips this time, another infraction she decided, pushing your body back until your back was practically arching under the force of her grip, Avis coming to stand and bend over your body, towering over you as your hands fell to the carpeted floor to stabilise yourself. Her breasts were only a few inches away from you, your mouth watering at the sight, but you were frozen in your spot, eyes moving frantically all over her body as her face got closer and closer to yours.

-And here I was, thinking you were going to be a good girl for mama only to disappoint me. You know what girls that step out of line get, don’t you? – God, why hadn’t you done this before, this whole dominating act could set you on fire with the way her voice spoke to you so huskily and with such an authoritative tone. You were her toy, her plaything, and you wanted to be her only girl forever and always. You found yourself nodding to her question, but she was not satisfied, she pulled you closer to her, giving your neck and back a break from their previous position, her breasts right at the perfect angle for you to feast on, but you could not steer your gaze clear from her face. – I need words darling, so answer the question.

-Punished.

-Indeed. You were doing so well, but I guess that sluts like you need to be reminded that your rightful place is at my feet. Crawl in between the balcony and the bed and stay. Understood?

-Yes, mother.

She let you go, that delicious sting that had spread through your scalp vanishing. You sat there for a few instants before placing the palms of your hands over the carpet, moving slowly over shaky legs around the bed. Avis had not moved from her spot, how could she when you were so beautiful on all fours moving to the place she had specified, your ass propped up in the air letting her eyes roamed over your perfect checks, the glistening in between your thighs not going amiss as your hips swaying as you progressed with each step. Her own hands travelled down the sides of her body until they settled on her hips, savouring the moment. The carpet dug into your skin, but it did not matter, they would leave a mark that in no time would vanish, the principal question in your mind being what was Avis going to do with you while she had you in this spot. Reaching the spot you thought Avis would approve of, you stilled your movements, doubting whether to stay on all fours or to sit back, she had not specified how you should wait. A gentle breeze cooled your skin, making you turn your head to let it hit your face in hopes that your burning cheeks would not remain so. It was beautiful through the open doors, the sunlight turning slightly orange as evening progressed outside this room, the drawn curtains flowing with each gust of wind allowing you to see the outline of the city among all the greenery. If you let your mind wander you could imagine the sea just there on the horizon.

-Is the view outside better than the one inside this room? - You had not heard Avis’s steps approaching you, the sudden sound of her voice in your ear causing you to turn your head away from the window, eyes staring down at the carpet again. Your heart had skipped a beat, but you were unsure whether it was due to how sultry her voice was or if it was because she had scared the crap out of you. She made a disapproving sound with her mouth as she pushed herself back to her full height, something cold and leathery making contact with your upper back to keep you in place on all fours when she saw that you had lifted your hands off the carpte to sit back. – I asked you a question.

-No ma’am.

-And yet your attention was elsewhere. You disappoint me Y/N. I thought you would do well with rules, but you’ve proven to be unable to follow simple commands. I guess sluts like you deserve to be punished after all. What will I do… what… will… I… do.

The foreign object that had been resting on your upper back slid down following the outline of your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind until it reached your ass. You had an inkling of what she could have in her hand, but you could not bring yourself to turn your head to look at her, anticipation filling your chest as your heart raced against your ribs, pounding. The leathery object slid over your left cheek and then your right, but nothing else happened for a few instants, the excitement nearly too much for you. You heard ruffling beside you and from the corner of your eye you saw part of Avis’s frame sitting on the bed, over the covers. And then it hit you square in the ass. A thin sturdy shaft collided with both your cheeks as the leather tongue you had felt running over your skin hit you perfectly over the right side of your buttocks. A gasp escaped your lips at the contact, your body jerking forward in surprise and out of seer instinct to move away from what was inflicting pain but you quickly returned to your original position, the sting you had felt at first vanishing after a few seconds helped by the touch of Avis’s palm running over the mark you were sure the object had left behind, soothing it until the only sensation left was pleasure.

-Now, I think that ten whippings for the liberties you took should teach you to never step out of line again. Count out loud.

Her hand left your lower back, seconds passing by in silence. She had a riding crop in her hand, she was going to hit you with a fucking riding crop, a fantasy you had been having for weeks now. You had imagined her bending you over her knee and using her hand to discipline you but as your gasps turned into moans, she would bend you over the couch and hit you over and over with the riding crop until you had to stop fantasising, or you would cum on the spot. This was real, she had one in her hand, you had felt its sting on your skin and yet you could not bring yourself to believe that this was happening. The first spank quickly made you realise that it was indeed true, the leather tongue colliding with your left cheek harder than the one she had inflicted upon you mere minutes ago. This pain was delicious, absolutely dizzying and addictive and for an instant you nearly forgot to speak the number.

-One!

-Good girl.

The second one landed on your right cheek, a gasp escaping your mouth as you said “two”, voice wavering slightly. This pain was hardly anything that could make you scream, your body stoic in place even if the pleasure was building higher, the third and fourth spanks hitting you unceremoniously on both sides pretty quickly one after the other. You nearly missed saying three, but Avis didn’t seem to notice that slip up. She was beyond aroused, her breaths rapid with the riding crop tightly in her hand, eyes glued to the red marks she was leaving that she was so very tempted to bend and soothe with her tongue, but that would be the opposite of inflicting a punishment. She did notice that you seemed to be handling it all rather well, so when the fifth spank landed on your right cheek, she made sure to smack it harder, the gasp that you gave perfect indication that this might be just the ideal strength to use on you. The feeling of the leather hitting you harder sent a jolt of pain up your back, but the pleasure was grander, your voice filled with desire as you muttered “five”, so very deep and utterly maddening that you were sure by the time Avis was done you could cum simply with one word.

-Can you take the five that are left, darling?

The concern that laced her lusty voice warmed your heart and you quickly nodded, yearning for the pain that was to come. She delivered as soon you stilled your movements, the hit harder than the one before, the pain turning into pleasure so fast that you weren’t sure if you had felt anything but pleasure, “six” leaving your mouth in a breathless gasp, your hands gripping the carpet until your knuckled turned white, your toes twitching. The seventh one made your back arch, toes curling hard as you felt your arousal practically dripping down your legs, but even in this hazy could of desire tainted by pain you managed to speak the next number. You were doing so well, your pretty creamy skin painted scarlet, contrasting beautifully, and in a simple touch of affection towards you Avis ran her hand over the marks to sooth the sting and pulsating feeling that she was sure you had going on under the red flesh. Just three more left, you thought. There was a certain part of you that did not want her to stop but the curiosity of what she would do once she was done was rather overwhelming, the eighth blow landing a little bit closer to your upper thighs that Avis had intended, a yelp sliding past your ajar lips. This pain was somehow completely different to anything you had felt before and yet so fucking wonderful, so raw that your arms collapsed leaving the right side of your face resting over the carpet, eyes closed as you muttered “eight”. Avis bent forward to check on you, worried at the sight of you practically laid on the floor, her heart pounding and her hand nearly dropping the riding crop, but when she heard you say the number she released the breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding in her lungs. If you need her to stop you would say the word, she thought more in an attempt to reassure herself that you were fine than anything else.

You hadn’t noticed that your hips twitched a bit, calling out to her, your eyes opening briefly to lock with hers, the sight of her deep brown against your beautiful E/C being enough for her to see that you were in fact alright. Avis returned then quickly to her previous persona and inflicted one more smack, this time over both of your cheeks, your lower lip in between your teeth to prevent a moan from escaping, as the pain spiralled into pleasure so easily that it took you a few seconds to form the word she needed to hear. Fuck, it was delicious, you never wanted her to stop whipping you, you wanted to stay in this cloud of pleasure forever if she would allow it, but then the tenth and last smack came and it landed so hard against your skin that you screamed, your eyes filling with tears, the sting feeling like actual pain that you were certain you would not be able to withstand if she still had a few more spanks left. And yet it sent a jolt of pleasure so strong down to your core that you felt a gush in between your legs, your cunt aching so bad for her touch that you were an inch away from madness. You hadn’t realised how rapid your breaths were until you felt the fabric of the carpet brushing against your nipples with each hurried puff of air that you tried to force into your lungs. There was a ruffling right next to you, Avis’s face coming into your range of vision, her left hand resting over the carpet while the other one caressed the skin of your shoulder, still holding on to the riding crop, rubbing tender circles. You smiled at the gesture and after locking eyes with her you uttered the last word in a quiet voice filled with desire and a hint of relief.

-Ten. Did I do well, mother?

-You did very well. You were my very good girl, taking them all and never missing a number. – she gently took your hands and pulled you into a sitting position, a hiss slipping from your lips when you rested your buttocks on the heels of your feet. She would have asked if you were alright, but you clearly had enjoyed it, if the way your body had responded was anything to go by, her eyes having seen your thighs coated in your arousal. She pecked your shoulder, her hand caressing your upper back, moving gently over the red marks to sooth them. - You will not step out of line again, will you, darling?

-No, mother.

-Then I think a reward is in order. Is there anything my good girl wants mama to do to her?

-I want you to tie me mother.

-If that is what my baby girl wants, that’s what she’ll get.

She pulled you up until you were standing before her, legs slightly shaky but you stayed upright when she let go of your hands. The suitcase she had brought upstairs laid open over the covers, your eyes observing several items that rested inside it, over a satin liner: a blindfold, rich feathers, ropes and what looked to be a leash. She really had done her homework on the matter. She had turned around the bed to pick it up and place it over the settee at the foot of it, also taking the time to remove the covers and throw them on the floor. You were now standing on opposite sides of the bed, but Avis’s hands were not free anymore, she had a set of salmon-coloured ropes in between them, her fingers toying with one of the ends. It didn’t matter how many times she had seen you naked, you were still exceptional every single one of them, the evening light coming through the window giving you an ethereal look as its halo wrapped around your frame, your beauty doing things to her that she couldn’t put into words. Her body bent forward as one hand patted the mattress, signalling for you to hop on the bed which of course you did in a heartbeat, moving slowly, never breaking eye contact with her. You hadn’t noticed that the carpet had dug into the skin of your knees until they rested over the soft bedsheets and bland mattress that dipped as you rested your weight over it. Crawling towards her you were stopped by a gentle hand on your chest, your body following every cue she was giving you, from the way it pushed you away from her so you would be in the middle of the bed to the way she turned you and pushed you onto your back, laying fully over the mattress. The headboard had several pillows and cushions resting on it and Avis, as caring as she was, picked one up and pushed it under your hips to help with the sting and leftover pain on your ass cheeks.

She was being extremely tender with you, maybe because you had given her a couple of scares, but you did not mind this treatment, her hands grabbing yours and beginning to wrap the rope around your wrists making sure they were tight enough that you wouldn’t accidentally slip out of the hops but lose enough that they wouldn’t hurt you and draw out blood, though something told her that in the future you two might discuss such a topic. She finished by tying a knot, pulling the rope to try it out before she pushed your arms above your head. The headboard didn’t have any hooks or bars that she could tie the ends to, so she had to get a bit creative, kneeling on the floor to tie one to the foot of the bed before rounding to the other side and doing the same. You were now perfectly secured, a look of lust and anticipation in your eyes, watching as Avis began to walk around the perimeter of the bed making sure to never let her eyes stray from your naked form. God, she had you completely at her mercy to do as she pleased with, idea after idea filling her head until finally, she settled on one specific thing. From the foot of the bed and over the settee, she crawled on top of the bed, her hands running from your feet to your knees, parting your legs to accommodate herself in between them, resting her palms over your hip bone. Her lips made contact with your skin, trailing kisses from your abdomen all the way to your sternum, moving up to your neck and jawline, her mouth kissing the shell of your ear.

-You’ve been such a good girl. You want mama to touch you, don’t you?

You nodded, the feeling of her lips over your skin a most addictive sensation, and you knew she was not one to disappoint, retracing her steps while deliberately not touching your breasts, leaving wet patches over your overheated skin. She came to sit back on her knees, your fingers feeling the rough material of the rope as you watched how she removed her hands from your body and began to run them over her own from her hips all the way to her breasts, playing and kneading the flesh through her clothes, throwing her head back to give you an even better show. And then her fingers unclasped the first hook, her ample breasts one step closer to freedom. You were watching her with unbridled attention, pulling unconsciously on the ropes in an attempt to reach her and unclasp it yourself needing to touch her skin, but this was her fantasy now, having you at her mercy. Her fingers moved over the pink lace on the sides of the garment, playing with the boning until her hands reached the clips that had previously been holding her stockings, twirling them around until she unclasped the hook at the end of the garment letting your eyes see a bit of the perfect skin above her knickers. Your mouth was both dry and watering at the sight, breaths coming in hurried puffs as she trailed her hands back towards her tits and unhooked another one, her ample breasts nearly escaping from the corselette. They were so beautiful, and you wanted nothing else than to bury your face in between them, your arms moving a bit more frantically, the rough material of the rope digging slightly on your wrists forcing you to stop.

She was a perfect seductress, a temptress, removing her garment with slow steps as to drive your lust through the roof, but you could not beg her to be faster nor plead with her to let you touch her; you were not going to risk breaking another rule. She was only one hook away from being completely naked from the waist up and yet her hands did not go for it, they went to your feet, tracing the shape of your shin and knee, her lips planting sweet pecks on your inner thighs as your eyes glued to the way her breasts were screaming to be freed, hanging on by a thread. You honestly did not know which was better, the sight of her or the way her lips were kissing that sensitive skin in between your legs, scraping her teeth and nibbling gently, leaving angry red marks that her tongue soothed, her hands kneading the flesh around your hips almost as if she were ready to hold you in place should you start ruffling around. With each peck so got closer to your dripping cunt, the smell of your arousal so intoxicating that part of Avis wanted to simply bury her face in it and never let go, but you had bit her before, another infraction that she hadn’t forgotten about, and she had to punish you for it. Her lips left a kiss on the skin between your inner thigh and your cunt, hips buckling on their own towards her face, but the action only added to the fuel to tease you, and she slapped the side of your hip before pushing herself back to sit on her knees, the corselette slightly askew but her tits still hidden from your sight.

And then her hands traced her collarbone, the valley between her breasts and began to toy with the hook, your hands pulling on the ropes as your fingers wrapped around the cord in excitement. In slow motion she unclasped the corselette, your eyes watching at her delightful breasts bounced out of their confinement and the garment fell over the mattress behind her, a raised eyebrow and filthy smirk topping it all off. Fuck, you could have cum just from the sight of her. With cat like grace, she crawled back on top of you, both hands resting on either side of your head inching closer and closer to you mouth until finally she kissed you. You hadn’t realised how much you had craved her lips over yours until she was crashing them against your mouth, tongue battling against tongue to assert her dominance over you, though she didn’t need to, you were her slave, her submissive little girl. Your hands fought against their restrains as the need to touch her grew, but she paid it no mind, breaking the kiss to bite down hard on your lower lip, a gasp escaping your mouth as she drew blood, her tongue tracing the wound to pick up the droplet that had formed. The taste was metallic, but it mixed with the alcohol of her martini and the sweet essence that was you like a perfect drink. She began to play with you in earnest as her lips journeyed down the shape of your neck, biting and sucking on your pulse point hard so that there would be a mark left behind, eyes rolling to the back of your head briefly at the feeling, the bed moving slightly as your arms pulled against the ropes.

Your neglected breasts were calling out to her, kisses tracing the shape of the plump flesh before she popped one of your nipples in her mouth, twirling the pink bud, nibbling and sucking. You could not help it, a string of moans made their way out of your throat, the skin of your wrists stinging as you pulled harder to free your hands to thread your fingers in between her curls, but it was to no avail, she had tied them properly. Her attention moved to your other tit, teeth biting down to make you scream, and you were sure that this time people might have heard you through the open window, though you couldn’t give two shits with the way Avis’s hands and mouth were playing with your breasts, every sensation sending a jolt of pleasure down to your core that ached so bad for her you weren’t sure you would be able to hold off your orgasm for more than a few minutes. She loved playing with you, but there was a growing need to taste you, so her lips released your nipple after one finally suck, a deep moan emanating from your mouth, before she traced the shape of your sternum and began to move downwards through your abdomen and hips, sucking on the skin over your bone making sure to leave a bruise. It was a trait mark of hers at this point to always leave some sort of bruise on your skin, you supposed that it was her way of making sure people knew you belonged to someone. The anticipation was skyrocketing, hands actively pulling on the ropes now, the thick cords digging onto your skin as her mouth left a kiss over your pubic bone before your cunt was face to face with her, your glistening folds such a delicious sight. Wanting to prologue her teasing for a bit longer she slid her index finger up and down your cunt, a mix between a growl and a moan reverberating from your throat with each swipe, her fingertip brushing over your swollen clit.

-Fuck! - the touch sent sparks all throughout your body, your hips buckling against her hand as your head lulled back exposing your neck to her. She stopped all motions suddenly, a whine coming from your parted lips, forcing your eyes to open and look at her with a questioning glance.

-Did I tell you, you could speak, dear?

-N… No, mother.

-Then I should perhaps leave you like this until you learn to ask for permission.

-No, mother! I promise I won’t do it again, I’m sorry.

-Don’t apologise Y/N, never break a rule again. – her hands dug into the skin of your hips, her breath ghosting over your cunt, the warmth contrasting with the cooling sensation it gave you. - You know that if you want something from mama, you only have to ask.

-May I… may I speak, mother?

-Since you asked you nicely… you may.

A wave of relief washed over your body, but it was short lived as her mouth came crashing down over your cunt, and suddenly the only thing you could feel was pleasure. She was fucking fantastic with her tongue, lapping up and down your folds like a starving woman, gathering your juices and drinking in your sweet taste as her ears were graced with every moan and profanity known to humankind. Your arms hurt from the strength you were using to free yourself, the skin of your wrists probably red and raw as you thrashed around, head rolled back as she wrapped her lips around your swollen bud, twirling it up and down, from side to side. Every single movement was making your orgasm build faster and higher, pants and screams increasing in pitch. It was overwhelming the speed at which it was all happening, Avis pushing a finger inside you, curling and touching your sweet spot, the pleasure clouding your visions.

-DONTSTOPDONTSTOPDONTSTOP! FUCK AVIS!

She doubled her efforts now, pumping in and out of you as fast as her arm would allow her, feeling your walls clenching around her fingers harder with each passings minute. At the last second, she changed positions, her hand never stopping but her mouth releasing your clit, her body climbing over yours as her free hand came to rest next to your head. You had taught her a trick on New Year’s, and she had been waiting for the right moment to use it, and now seemed like the perfect moment, her hips slamming into her hand to use the momentum to pound into you, her thumb rubbing your bud. The force of her hips made your body rise and fall on the bed, your legs wrapping around her waist to keep her in place as you screamed higher and higher. You were so close, so fucking close, Avis pushing a second finger inside you, her mouth right next to your ear as she whispered.

-Cum for mama, darling.

And everything went white. Every single nerve in your body was burning bright, limbs twitching under the power of the orgasm she was giving you, her hips slamming into yours at a murdering pace, never stopping, never faltering, your hips trusting to meet her as your world filled with an explosive amount of pleasure and joy, screaming her name over and over. You were sure the skin of your wrists was broken by now, bleeding maybe, but you didn’t care, you were using the ropes as leverage to meet her movements like a psycho woman. It was insane all the things she was making you feel, that she had made you feel throughout this little escapade, but she was not letting up, your heart pounding against your ribs. You had not come down from your high when you felt a second one building deep in your core, Avis’s thumb putting a bit more of pressure on your clit making you jolt and yelp trying to escape her touch, but at the same time you just couldn’t, you were so close. She kissed your cheek as your breaths became ragged before returning in between your legs, her tongue taking every drop of arousal you had poured over her hand, her arm now a bit more relaxed after the break, but still pumping in and out, knuckles deep.

-YES! YES! GOD YES!

Her lips wrapped around you very swollen bud once more, twirling and sucking hard, your walls clenching around her fingers, your orgasm reaching a breaking point so fast that you almost felt like you couldn’t keep up. It was reaching a maddening point, her teeth scraping and nibbling, sending you over the edge for a second time, her hand pounding into you as with the other one she tried to still your manic movements against her face. The heels of your feet were digging onto the mattress as she carried on, fingers wrapped tightly around the thick ropes. She really was trying so fucking hard to squeeze every orgasm she could out of you, delighted in the way you thrashed around and called out her name in between pants. She could get a couple more, she was sure, adding a third finger, the sting of the stretch so delicious and almost a bit too much, but you pulled through, you could feel the third orgasm building so fast, so overwhelming under your hot skin, limbs twitching with every spark and jolt of electricity that Avis was producing with that gifted mouth of hers around your clit. It caught you by surprise when you had not come down and the third wave was crushing you under its explosive weight. This time there was a certain amount of pain spreading through every limb, your body moving, or trying to anyway, from Avis’s grip, needing her to give you a moment, but she did not stop, and you hoarse voice could not find the strength to scream any more, moans and pants the only thing echoing against the walls, sliding out the window.

There was no rhythm whatsoever to your movements, none at all as Avis continued with her assault on your extremely oversensitive bud, pumping her fingers in and out at a pace that you could not keep up with anymore. The pleasure that had built in your core was turning into pain, her hand not giving you a respite from all the sensations and powerful orgasms, because each of them had sent you to the fucking stars in one hell of an astral journey, but this time you couldn’t give her a fourth one. Your juices were dripping out of you onto the pillow underneath your ass while also all over Avis’s hand, mouth and chin. Suddenly you felt it all a thousand times clearer when, as you were rolling out of your third peak, you squirted all over her, the pleasure skyrocketing for a moment, your back arched off the bed, face turned to the side hidden by your arm, until the pain overtook it all. It spread to every limb, every cell of your body, her ministrations too fucking overwhelming that you could feel your lungs failing to breath, your head dizzy, the feeling that you might actually pass out filling your chest as your hazy mind tried to figure out how to tell her.

-Stop! Avis… fuck… Stop! BLACK! BLACK!

Instantly her movements stilled, pulling her fingers out of you and jerking her body into a sitting position before crawling fast to your side. The waves of pain and pleasure were still coursing through your body, but at least you could feel air passing through your lungs once again, the aching fading slowly as Avis quickly worked on the ropes to release your hands, taking them in hers once it laid on top of the pillows, forgotten. You had hurt your wrists she noticed, broken bleeding skin meeting her eyes before she gently placed them over the mattress to turn all her attention to you, pushing the sweat covered hair off your forehead. She should have noticed, she thought, she should have paid more attention to how ragged your breaths were, to how you were trying to pull away from her, worry and terror filling her chest as you remined laying there.

-Are you alright? Talk to me, please.

-Moment.

You needed a moment, okay, you had spoken, quietly, but spoken anyway, you were breathing, you just needed a moment. The dizziness was slowly fading as well, leaving traces of a light-headedness that you could cope with. Avis slipped from the bed to get you some water, rushing back to your side in under a minute trying not to spill it, keeping her eyes glued to your chest. It rose and fell at a slower pace, the raspiness it had held before no longer audible, your limbs motionless, completely spent over the mattress, only twitching every once in a while as the afterglow began to seep into your bones and muscles relaxing you, letting the scare pass. Avis could see that you were getting better, but that could not shake the feeling that she had accidentally overstepped, even if this was exactly why there was a safe word system. Her free hand caressed your forehead gently, the only sound in the room being your steady breaths. After a few minutes you opened your eyes slowly to meet a pair of brown terrified orbs.

-Are you okay?

-Yeah. It was… just a bit much.

-Here, drink some water. – she helped you to sit in bed, placing the glass against your lips and tipping it so you could drink, neither of you trusting your arms to hold it. Once you were done Avis placed the glass on the nightstand, quickly returning her attention to you as her hands rested on your cheeks. – Are you sure you are fine? I can take you to a doctor if you need one.

-I’m okay. You were doing great; you were just not giving me time to rest and I kind of nearly passed out. I would have been fine if I had fainted, you would have needed to give be some more time to recover, but I didn’t want to scare you like that.

-As if this didn’t scare me already.

-We’ll get better, I mean neither of us are used to doing this on a daily basis. Maybe we need to learn how to read the cues that each other’s bodies are giving us, pay a little more attention before we carry on.

-You don’t want to stop? You nearly passed out.

-If you mean as of right now, I think I’m done Avis, but I don’t want us to not try again some other day. We need to be more careful next time, that’s all. By the way, what were you trying to do?

-Overstimulate you. – she could not help the chuckle that escaped her, her forehead resting against yours for a moment before she pecked your lips and sat back, taking your hands in hers to take a look at your scrapes. They weren’t too bad, but it would be best to bandage them.

-Well, you certainly cracked it.

-Oh, shut up. You really scared the shit out of me just now. I don’t think I want to do this particular thing again.

-Well, I want you to.

-What? – her head rose to look at you, surprise not even covering what she was feeling as your eyes smiled gently at her.

-Yeah, I was liking it until I panicked, but now that I know that this are the signs, I can give you a warning. We just need to learn Avis. You’ll be a pro in no time.

-You are masochist.

-Maybe. We can look into that some other time. Right now I believe that there’s a round two due.

-You want to carry on? You nearly fainted on me Y/N!

-Oh, don’t worry, I’m done, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be.

-I don’t need to continue, you’ve pleased me enough.

-I’ve been mama’s good girls, I know, but I think that after doing so well just now, a reward is due.

-A reward? What reward? – your face moved until it was inches away from hers, lips ghosting over lips as your hands travelled up her thighs towards her hips, fingering the fabric of her knickers.

-I want you to let go for me Avis. Let me take you to Dreamland.

There really was no need, but how could she say no when your eyes were pleading with hers like that. She found herself nodding, letting you move her around until she was the one sitting on the spot you had just been in over the mattress, the ruined pillow ending up on the floor. Your lips met hers in a sweet kiss, tracing the shape of her mouth with your tongue, the line of her jaw and licking that spot that always made her moan under her ear. What a delightful sound it was. You carried on tasting the skin of her neck and sucking on her pulse point until you were sure you had left a mark, but at least this time you wouldn’t have to worry about her husband finding out. Your teeth scraped the shape of her collarbone and left a wet trail down her sternum and in the valley between her breasts, her hands moving to thread her fingers in your hair. As you moved your body downward on the bed you felt the opened suitcase with your foot, an idea assaulting you suddenly. You met her deep eyes, whispering tenderly against her lips.

-Do you trust me?

-Yes.

-Then close your eyes.

She held your gaze for a second before following your words, her ears picking up on some ruffling sounds and the shift of weight on the mattress. She was curious about what you had planned, maybe you were going to tie her, maybe you were going to spank her and punish her for nearly leaving you unconscious in a hotel room. The sky is the limit. Your hands caressed the shape of her arms, a piece of fabric following your fingers until she felt something covering her eyes, her long eyelashes pressed against white satin. So, you were going to blindfold her, well, that was something she had not considered, but she wasn’t going to complain. Now that her sight was gone all her other senses heightened, her ears picking up every single breath you took, the way the bedsheets ruffled under both your weights. Your lips landed on her shoulder, pecking and drawing a gasp as her hands gripped the sheets, each kiss leaving a path of goosebumps over her skin as your fingers begun toying with the waistband of her knickers. Each touch felt a thousand times better, each kiss leaving her wanting more. Suddenly your breath was in her ear, making her turn her head toward the sound of your voice.

-Lay down for me Avis.

With her hands in yours she let herself fall gently on the mattress, her head coming to rest over a soft pillow. She had expected for you to start kissing down her body, but she couldn’t feel anything, she couldn’t hear you either, her heart pounding in her chest. A soft warm object that felt much like fur landed on her chest, her breath hitched in her lungs at the sensation, and as it moved down in between her breasts and abdomen she felt like the path it had left was fire. The unknown object changed places and was now following the line of her shin and thigh, her head turning instinctively towards the left side, gasps sliding from her ajar lips with each new touch. Her mind was a bit hazy with how it all felt, but after a moment it clicked that you were using the bright white feather that she had had in her suitcase. Weren’t you a sneaky one. You had moved it to her neck, the touch sending a shiver down her spine before your lips came to connect with the skin of her sternum, adding to the goosebumps that already painting every inch of her body. She had never known that losing her sight, even if it was momentarily, could make everything else just spike, your kisses leaving her flesh ablaze as you moved down her abdomen.

Suddenly your lips left her skin, and she felt your weight go to the side of the bed and then return in between her legs, unsure what was going on, her head moving from side to side trying to pick up anything at all. A slashing sound cut through the air and landed with a cracking smack right beside her right hip, over the mattress, Avis’s body jolting at it. Oh God, were you going to spank her? The thought made her heart race, her breath hurried in anticipation but the expected command to turn around an place herself on all fours never came, and the leather only landed over her skin the same way the feather had. It was such a contrast, the material completely different, and the cooling touch it left on her thigh driving her mad. You slid the riding crop down to her foot and then rose it until rested under her chin, lifting her head slightly to grant you a better access to her neck, lips latching to her pulse point as if you needed it to live. A moan escaped from her throat, her hands patting your head until she was able to thread her fingers in between your soft locks, grounding herself as the feather began to move down her right arm. She couldn’t get enough of all the sensations that were rushing through her body, the fabric of her knickers an obstacle at this point, hoping you would do something about it soon.

Lifting yourself back onto your knees she had to let go of your hair, hands dropping to the sides as suddenly the cold leather of the riding crop slid over her left breast, playfully slapping her nipple. That simple action made Avis arch her back, a yelp and a moan mixing in the hot air around you, the feather now running over the skin of her inner thighs, her reflective instinct being to buckled her hips and at the same time to try and push her legs together, but as you were in between them she could not, your hands coming to rest on her hip bone to still her. The way she was responding to you was delightful, every sound, every movement was simply exquisite, but you wanted more. Your fingers slid to the waistband of her underwear, pushing them slowly down her legs until they laid on the floor, Avis’s body completely bare for your eyes only. She could not see the way you were drinking her in, her hands grasping the sheets as she impatiently waited for you to do something, the anticipation driving her insane with desire. The feather returned to the valley between her breasts, travelling down until it moved over her dripping cunt, the sensation making her arch her back once again and lull her head back, buckling her hips towards you, but you were not done.

Her ample breasts were screaming for you to touch them, you could almost hear them as you buried your face in between them, kneading the flesh and rolling her nipples with your thumbs as you licked and nibbled at the skin. You were torturing her, a delicious playfulness that she could not get enough of, your lips so gentle while your hands gave her tits a more rough treatment. Satisfied with her pants and gasps you proceeded to pop one nipple in your mouth, sucking hard and scraping the sensitive bud with your teeth, your name slipping out of her mouth with a scream as the hand that had rested on your head now pulled, the sting on your scalp not that much of a foreign feeling to you. Your mouth felt like heaven, each touch and feeling driving her core to burn brighter and hotter for you, a plead nearly coming out of her mouth, but she was unable to speak as you moved to her other nipple, biting down instead before twirling it around with your tongue. Her brain was turning all mushy with the way you were kissing, your hands rubbing circles on her thighs.

-Y/N, please.

-Please? – you released her nipple with a loud pop, the leather of the riding crop returning to slide up and down both arms. -What do you want Avis?

-Stop teasing.

-And if I stop, what would you want me to do?

-Eat me out.

-Is that so? Well, I am here to please.

She gasped and yelped as you smacked the leather tongue gently on the side of her hip before she felt the weight shift between her legs. The first swipe of your tongue had her eyes rolling to the back of her head, a curse slipping out without her being able to stop it, not that she would have. You had missed that salty taste that was Avis, you had nearly forgotten the way her skin felt under your palms, the sounds that only your ears would hear. You had missed everything that was Avis in this past week, and the only thing you wanted to do was make her forget all the stress and frustration that life had brought her way. Your tongue lapped in between her folds so easily, your fingers parting her entrance so you could push it and out of her, the moans that reached your ears such a melodious sound to hear. What you were doing to her felt like electricity in every cell of her body, the tactile sense having heightened more than a hundred percent, driving every single touch to feel as if it was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt in her life. Without warning, and without need, you pushed two fingers in, a scream reverberating from her throat so loudly that it was a matter of time when you would have a worker from the hotel knocking on your door, but until that moment came you were going to try your best to make her voice be heard all throughout Hollywood.

Your arm pumped your fingers in and out of her fast and without a care in the world, pushing them out almost completely before returning them inside her hot velvety cunt until your knuckles were nestled between her fold, curling your fingertips enough so you would touch that wonderful spot inside her. This went on for a few minutes, your eyes taking in the way she thrashed around the bedsheets, her hips buckling and thrusting against your hand to match you. Her neck and chest were red, both from the exertion and due to every little mark you had left on her soft flesh, a thin layer of sweat forming all over her body. Her moans were beginning to rise in pitch, her orgasm getting closer and closer, but you wanted the whole experience to be monumental, your mouth returning to her cunt to suck her folds and lick them before twirling her swollen clit with your tongue, the bud moving up and down as you toyed with it, a hand suddenly on your head pushing your face closer to her if that was even possible.

-God Y/N! You are wonderful! FUCK!

You could not help it, you wanted to see her unravel before you, and so you pushed a third finger inside her, the stretch bring on a fluttering of her walls, the pace as fast as your arm and back would allow you and the sound of her juices quenching around you as you pushed your hand knuckles deep inside her so utterly filthy and sinful and yet, it was driving Avis insane. The sensation of the feather moving over her stiff nipples was enough to send her over the edge, but your lips sucking on her clit certainly gave her a better push, helping her tip over it. Her back arched off the bed, grinding her hips against your face maniacally as the peak of her orgasm exploded all around her.

-YES! YES! AHHHHH, YESYESYES!

Her throat would be raw tomorrow, maybe even this evening as her screams echoed and reverberated against the walls, leaving a slight ringing in your ears. The white-hot pleasure spread through every limb, her vision clouded with stars as you slowed your pace after a minute, helping her ride out her orgasm. She was not going to lie, every single peak you had given her had been marvellous, but what you had just done to her was beyond that. It had been mind-blowing, explosive, every single sensation multiplied by a thousand, shivers running from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes. She felt the hand that just had the feather rubbing circles on her thigh, your fingers slowing down ever further until she collapsed on the bed, her chest rising and falling in hurried pants, her hand releasing your hair and flopping beside her. Her walls still clung to your fingers every few seconds accompanied with her hips twitching, but you had to pull out, a whine slipping through her ajar mouth at the loss of contact. Climbing on top of her you carefully removed the blindfold, letting it fall somewhere on the side, her eyes lazily opening to meet yours after your lips pecked her cheeks and eyelids.

-Holy shit.

-I guess you liked it then.

-Liked it? If you don’t fuck me with a blindfold on at least once a week, I swear I’ll fire you from the studio.

-Well, we can’t risk that. I guess I will have to obey mother and blow your brains out. – the room filled with chuckles and laughter, only muffled by her lips claiming yours, her tongue running over your lower one tasting the wound she had inflicted, but you didn’t seem to mind one bit. Upon parting you moved off of her to let her sit, Avis quickly chugging down the water that had been left in the glass. – Do you want to tell me what happened at the office today?

-Oh, fuck no. But I’ll tell you this. It’s always fucking Lon.

-Why doesn’t that surprise me.

-Now is my turn to ask. How do you know the station? – Avis rested her body against the headboard, picking up the feather you had abandoned over the mattress to toy with it, her breath slightly hurried still.

-When I came here for the first time Ernie offered me a job as a secretary, and I took it. And before you ask, it was just that. About three weeks later a lady came and she would have none of the boys, so I offered myself. Ernie was happy, the lady was happy, she paid well and so he hired me. But as strange as it sounds, there is not that big of a market for ladies that want to be entertained by ladies, so Ernie decided to not put me on contract for that part of the business and when I read about that job offer in the newspaper that Miss Kincaid needed a secretary I applied and got it. End of story.

-But you still visit.

-Yeah, he lets me oversee the accounts, and he likes having interesting conversations. It can get a bit boring hearing his precious boys talk about how they want to be in the big screen.

-And am I a hot topic?

-Always. He has told me many secrets about you, but I’m afraid I cannot tell you. I wouldn’t want to break his trust.

-Oh? – she pushed herself off the headboard, crawling your way with a naughty smirk on her lips, her eyes narrowing as she got closer to you. – Is mama going to have to fuck them out of you?

-Perhaps. – she was sitting on your thighs now, your hands resting behind you as to stabilise yourself. - He’s a very good friend, I really shouldn’t tell.

-Doesn’t mama mean more to you than him? Doesn’t mama do things to you that no one else does?

-Yes. – The word came out more breathless than you had intended, but it did not matter. Avis pushed herself to the side and picked up an item from the suitcase that was behind you, showing you the long leash you had seen before, a leather collar attached to it.

-Then be a good girl and start talking or I’m going to have you at my feet all night long. Pet.

#avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #patti lupone x reader #we thank miss lupone simply for exiting #hollywood 2020

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