#and i realized i didn’t have enough keys

[effervescentwolf]

nothing impossible <- ao3 link

“Hey, Buck!” Eddie practices in the car as he enters LA. “Christopher’s finishing his school year so I’m—”

He gets stuck in standstill traffic. He’s gotten used to it, used to any obstacle really, driving around in Texas, kind of expects it. Before, he’d complain to Buck about every little inconvenience on the road until Buck wrestled the keys from his grip.

“If you wanted me to drive, you could’ve just asked,” Buck would say, fondness all over his face, and Eddie’s whole body would go warm.

There’s a crash up ahead so he sits there, windows down, breathes in the smell of this place. El Paso and LA smell similar in a lot of ways, but there’s a difference he can’t quite put his finger on. There’s also an ease to the way he sits here rather than there, a rigid line of tension that he can’t find anymore when he searches for it.

There’s a difference between traffic there, where it would build up inside him, where everything was building and building, and traffic here where he’s a puppet cut loose, where he can simply sit and breathe and think.

He thinks of Buck when the traffic starts moving again.

“Buck?” he imagines calling, if he used the spare key safe in his pocket, trying to figure out where Buck would be in the house when he gets there. He glances at the time, nearing 4 PM. Buck isn’t on a shift today, he reasons. He probably went to the gym in the morning, got groceries sometime after. He didn’t have anywhere to be for lunch today, and there was nothing special in his calendar. “I’m home,” Eddie says softly, trying to imagine saying it in about thirty minutes, which is how long it’ll take him to get home if his estimate is accurate.

“Missed me?” could be on the table when Buck opens the door, and Eddie will grin wide and hold his arms open for a hug he kind of desperately wants.

Or, “Is there enough for two?” because dinner might be on the stove, or in the oven, and Eddie will be able to smell it from outside the house. Buck will turn, wearing that blue apron of his, and his eyes will widen, mouth in a perfect o, and Eddie will laugh, then.

“He’s coming home,” Eddie might say first because he knows that’s on their mind. That would happen after a silent hug, after Buck takes one look at him and maybe cries as he pulls Eddie in. If Buck cries, Eddie will too, and he gets a little emotional just thinking about it, them crying together on the doorstep, holding each other, and then laughing together at how ridiculous it is.

The minutes whittle down to streets and it hits Eddie suddenly that he’s home. He’s not nervous to see Buck the way he was nervous to see his parents, wiping sweaty palms on his pants, smoothing down his hair in his rearview mirror, over and over.

No, here, he parks, walks easily up to his door, grinning already, and all the debate about what he’s going to do dissipates. He knocks on the door because Buck isn’t expecting him. He’s not sure how Buck believed Eddie’s fumble of a lie about going out today and not being able to call, but he did, though he texted him throughout the day anyway.

Eddie waits a minute. Taps his foot, turns with his arms folded and surveys the neighbor’s houses. Knocks again, and frowns this time when there’s no answer, and then he lets himself in.

It’s quiet inside. “Buck?” Eddie calls anyway, halfway through kicking off his shoes when he looks up and realizes it looks the same. Different, because it’s not his furniture, but things are where they were when he lived there. He’d suspected over FaceTime, but it feels like Buck’s been preserving a little of kernel of him, and all of a sudden it hits Eddie that he’s really home. That he belonged here, and belongs, that he’s about to see Buck, and he’s going to have his kid, and that he has it, everything he’d ever wanted.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, runs a hand over the couch as he passes, says quietly, “Can I crash here?” That’s what he’ll say first, a joke about the couch, or Buck taking over his house, when Buck gets home.

He makes his way to Christopher’s room, opens it a sliver, sees it’s empty, and then closes it, putting his forehead on the door. Buck kept him too in his own way. Kept both of them there while they were gone. He didn’t replace them.

He doesn’t bother knocking on what used to be his own bedroom door, just opens it and oh, there’s Buck.

He’s sprawled out on his back, one hand on his stomach, not even under the covers. He hasn’t shaved today, Eddie can tell, and he doesn’t really think when he comes forward and sits next to him. Over FaceTime, he couldn’t see as much as he can now. Couldn’t watch the way Buck’s chest rises and falls with every breath, the scratch on his knuckle he whined about yesterday. Eddie can see it now, a little white mark on Buck’s hand, and he thumbs over it absently, not sure why he has to touch it, only that he does.

There’s a breadth to Buck that a phone could never approximate. A realness. He’s right there, in his bed in Eddie’s room, all of him, down to his socked feet. Eddie feels oddly emotional over seeing his socks, and he’s not sure why, but he’s been feeling emotional at a bit of everything these days when it comes to coming home.

“I missed you,” Eddie says, and he’s glad those are the first words he says with intention in this house, even if Buck isn’t awake to hear them.

His hand is still resting over Buck’s. He doesn’t move for a long time, just watching Buck breathe, and breathing it all in, and then he goes off to shower.

Buck is still asleep when Eddie walks back in with wet hair, barefoot, wearing shorts and a t-shirt he scrounged from the closet. Droplets roll down the back of his neck to dampen the collar of the shirt, which feels good after the heat of outside. He’d forgotten how much he missed that particular brand of shampoo, and the way the light in his bathroom looked on him in the mirror. Even the squeaky faucet, the way the door stuck a little when Eddie pulled. It’s like discovering everything anew, and it’s also like he never left.

He rummages through the fridge, discovers leftovers, and piles up a plate that he takes back to the bedroom so he can sit next to Buck and eat, munching thoughtfully as he mentally rearranges the house.

“I was saving that,” Buck mumbles, voice rough with sleep, and Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Warn a guy, would you?” Eddie says, turning to look at him once he’s swallowed, heartbeat still a panicked pace in his chest, and then he thinks only, that’s not how it was supposed to go.

Buck yawns, blinking blearily at him, rubbing at his eyes. “Where’s—”

“Finishing the school year,” Eddie answers, easy, and then he doesn’t want to eat anymore. He just wants to look. He wants to look at Buck looking at him. “You can have the rest,” he offers, something squeezing at his chest.

Buck ignores it. “But he’s coming back?” he asks, earnest. Sincere. Eddie can't put into words how much it means that someone's right there with him.

Eddie nods, manages to put the plate on the bedside table, and then Buck is sitting up next to him and pulling him into a hug. “Oh, Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie breathes him in and holds him tight, and he thinks, I did good. I did good.

“Proud of me?” he mumbles, like he can’t feel it in the way Buck is squeezing him.

“You smell good,” Buck says instead, and there’s a little thrill that runs up Eddie’s spine at that. “Have you been back for a while?”

“An hour, maybe,” Eddie answers, face tucked into Buck’s shoulder. “I showered.”

“Mm,” Buck says, nosing at his ear, and Eddie’s stomach swoops like nothing else.

"Buck," he complains, words soft around the edges. He doesn't mean it, and he's reminded that Buck knows him better than anyone because he doesn't move an inch, rubbing Eddie's back comfortingly, and that’s where it all catches up to him.

"Yeah?" Buck says, smile all over his voice. Eddie can hear the rumble of his chest from here, and that wasn't captured on FaceTime either, and he can hear Buck breathing right next to his ear. “I didn’t know what I was going to say to you,” he confesses into the safety of Buck's shoulder. “I was practicing in the car.”

Buck doesn't say anything for a moment. “Anything you said would’ve been good,” he offers, like it's obvious, voice warm all the way through, and there’s something different about Buck’s warmth than the sun on his skin in El Paso, something that cuts the last string keeping him there, that tames something within Eddie’s chest that has been begging to be let out.

Eddie sniffles, just a little. "Not anything," he protests weakly.

Buck's next breath is a little shaky, and it takes Eddie a moment to realize he's crying too. "Anything," he repeats, sure of it, and Eddie forgets standing on another doorstep, practicing what to say, fumbling over the words and feeling small under his own failures. Here, he has a million things to say, none of them impossible, but he only needs to reach up and squeeze the back of Buck's neck for Buck to say, everything like home, "Eddie."

[orleans-jester]

The drink plus this new information about Piper sent GoGo into a small laughing fit, arm going around her stomach as she let it out. “I can so see her saying that,” She said. It was one step away from just saying ‘Fuck you Simon, won’t do what you tell me’ which was pretty badass for a kid.

“Yeah, dude,” She nodded. “You make it look like old parchment that way. And the burned edges gives it a dangerous touch. It’s the best way to make treasure maps.”

She didn’t question why they would have to meet at night. It ust seemed like another Laveau thing that went over her head. She was curious about a lot of things - science, space, speed, but she also knew that curiosity could kill the cat. Or rather, too much curiousity about the Laveaus could kill … anyone, really. She just … accepted things as they were without asking too many questions. “Yeah, steal Scout’s key, she’s got one of the spares to my apartment. I’ll teach you.”

The alcohol with the cool night air felt nice. She didn’t feel the strain of her muscles from the climb up up the tree. She wasn’t usually a climber, so it was muscles she hadn’t used before. Insects were still chirping away through the land, so it wasn’t entirely deserted. But the annoying ones - the mosquitos - were already sparse as it started to grow a little bit cooler.

She was feeling that breezy lightheaded feeling that came with the first couple of drinks. Tipsiness was coming in, and it made everything feel … inconsequential. Perfectly fine. Dale was close to her and wasn’t wearing a shirt? That was perfectly fine. There was a chance that she could fall and land on her head? Lovely. The air smelt of old wood and moss - superb.

A long while back, when the Laveaus had questioned her about her sexuality, she told them that she orientated herself as ‘busy’. It hadn’t meant to be a rejection, it had been an honest answer. She had been far too busy to think about it. It wasn’t something that was a prevalent part of her life, almost to the point where she wondered if she was A-Sexual, like Figaro. But that didn’t feel right either.

And then it hit her when she had 2 Fast 2 Furious on her small TV, playing in the background, as she was working on her dream bike.

Paul Walker? Pretty hot.

But Devon Aoki?

Also hot.

It took rewatching a movie for the upteenth time for her to realize for the first time that she wasn’t looking at the cars so much as she was the drivers. Late bloomer? Potentially. But now she was around more people, she was more social, she was seeing what loving relationships looked like in the form of Valerie and Thomas, rather than the stiffness of her parents. It caused her to wonder and think for the first time, to kick up those hormones.

She kept it to herself. She didn’t think of it as a big secret or anything, she wasn’t trying to hide it persay, that she was bi-curious. But it didn’t feel like something that she needed to come out and say, to pronounce to the world, to be loud and proud about like others. It was just another facet to her personality. But it would likely come out in time.

She sipped on the alcohol again, using Dale as body warmth though it wasn’t quite cold enough to get a chill. Not with the sun starting to slowly emerge. The drink was room-temperature and it burned going down, causing a warmth on its own. It wasn’t brandy but it was near enough.

They were close. Nose to nose. She scrunched hers slightly at the tickling sensation.

“Even if I’m not magic, or a wolf, or a street magician?” Go-Go asked, it being entirely an important question. Seemed like everyone close to the family was one of those things. But then she laughed at herself and shook her head. “Fuck it, magic is just science that hasn’t been explained yet. I’ll get to the bottom of you one day.”

Their faces still close, though she turned hers to look past his big eyes towards the landscape once more and hummed in contentment. “Yeah, this is good. I haven’t watched a sunrise in ages.”

"I don't doubt you." He didn't either. He wasn't flattering her genius. He believed every word.

She couldn't regret it if she was dead?

"To looking at things from other perspectives then."

He laughed because he wasn't stopping. His goal was up.

"No regrets."

Then she actually confronted him on why he bothers to call her hot while also pointing out that she didn't seem to think he was some perve like the clients at the kitty club. It wasn't something he thought he'd be questioned about much less ever be told in combination of such opposite sentiment. He'd have been more ready for being called a perve and to just stop talking like that. He was a straight up guy, but how far was he going to go with that one? "Pft. But I mean. Gnnngh. I don't know though. Because you let me. Because it's true. Or I don't know. Because you pft. Because you haven't told me not to. And... uh...."

But this and uh lingered as he reached for the next secure holding on the tree. He let the conversation die away and let that and uh never be finished. Whatever Dale's thoughts were had remained his own as he climbed.

Scout's hair was brought into the scope, "Something about she likes it that way. I don't know." Total brother answer. Not that deep.

By the time they were up on the tree platform and in the hut, it all might have been a lost conversation all together as they went into investigating the treasures of long-lost past.

GoGo might not have had any sense of nostalgia, but Dale was trying to paint for her from up there. He was hoping she'd be able to feel a vision of a place she'd never been better if she stepped into his memories. All he had was his memories and a few weather-worn trinkets, but it felt like a lost world in the palm of his hands with that map, the gems, and the lone hut high above the zombie forest with his numb body and extreme buzz on. He was as high on nostalgia as his face was numb and he could barely feel his face at all. He continued pursuing his own bottle.

"Definitely a born leader. She even sucked at following a game of Simon Says. I remember her asking 'Who is Simon to tell me what to do?' and telling her that's just how you play the game went over her head. She would act like it was the dumbest game on the planet. She was probably right."

Scout was indeed fine. She'd fallen asleep by this time and Dale's suspicions were correct. This was his moment. The map was all his for just a little while. No shared sight from the other siblings anyhow were watching.

"Teabag? Burn?" He pictured the concept with a little laugh at the two words that came out of his mouth at the same time. "Woah. No. Not me. That sounds cool though. I like that. Never heard of it."

Suddenly, Dale was getting ideas for the homemade Christmas presents. He usually recruited his more creative siblings to help him. But he was grinning something awful believing he finally got the Christmas idea first. FINALLY. GoGo just inspired him.

"You have to show me. I want to learn to do that. Can we meet at night to show me?"

Dale had asked her to help him with gifting before and kept making her do things in odd ways or at night when the others were sleeping so it'd still be a surprise while the magic windows were dark. She didn't question his odd requests the first time. So, he didn't think twice about asking again.

It did start to feel as if they were settling in. The alcohol had taken complete hold and sounds of the swamp were as relaxing as leaning against one another staring at all the names on the wall. GoGo's name fit right in. To Dale it seemed to blend like it'd been there all along especially with how the old marker wasn't the brightest even though the moisture got the color bleeding again. It worked. It was new, but it almost seemed aged. Her name fit just right.

He held up his phone and snapped a pic since his siblings were sleeping. He didn't want them to miss something that special. The rest of the feeling he didn't mind having privately when GoGo settled back in. It also felt just right right now. He felt so comfortable. He felt so good. Exhausted good. Buzzed good. Drunk good actually. Nostalgic good. Serotonin good. Halloween good. Shirtless good. He was enjoying the closeness and that's why private was good. It wasn't like when his cousin Ellie slept over and closeness was just closeness. This wasn't like when his sister came curling up near him.

Dale had deeper thoughts of GoGo he knew he might should make go away. He'd felt the rejection here before. He couldn't quite hold on to that rejection recollection inside the nice warm feeling and alcohol though. The current feeling was far too alive and living its best life smiling its way through his very relaxed veins. It was such a nice private feeling Dale could coddle GoGo up in and no one else had to know. He forgot what he was going to say after the and uh earlier. And uh once I knew you weren't into me that way it was much easier to treat you like any other pervy guy would any other girl because it's fun to only talk about your looks because who gives a shit if I care about the rest anyway? But he couldn't think too deep. That wasn't Dale. He was more the sort to paint Life is Short Fuck Your Friends on public property. So, he certainly wasn't going to talk too deeply without real provocation, like for example how he spouted off at Mr. Tomago. Dale went off that day. GoGo didn't ask a simple enough question to get a real answer.

He just sort of leaned there at first, arms around her, admiring her name on the wall, attempting to keep it in focus, an obvious alcohol curve, but whatever. It felt like this wall of tired passed through him forcing his head to lean against hers all the more, harder, heavier, side-by-side. If he wasn't careful, he and GoGo were going to merge together like ghosts through a wall. As his strangely altered mind state actually started to wonder if this was possible and began to worry about how hard he was leaning on her he lifted his hands and smoothed both palms down both sides of her arms checking the boundaries of her person. This made him turn to face her. Good. Good. They were still separate. He was alive and well. After all he'd seen in this world, he didn't feel crazy to check. He truly wondered if he'd passed over in a passed-out state.

He could hear their heartbeats in the slew of other swamp noises though or maybe it was just his? He wasn't sure. He noticed his breathing next. That made him start grinning more. Yeah, he was definitely still alive. He hadn't drunk himself to death despite the empty bottle he'd nearly chugged on his own.

He faced her in that drunken state with that grin, nose-to-nose, no fear of personal space invasion. Inhibitions lost to the wind. Private, windows dark, drunken state, with the word honorary still ringing in his head. It was moments like this sensation was strange but familiar. Dale drank often. He liked the pressure of trying to feel his nose, his cheeks, which came with some difficulty, and it became its own fun game against hers. Still, he was left thinking GoGo was probably the only girl who never got an honorable mention in any competition in all her life. Too smart. She probably won every science fair. Top trophies. Blue ribbons. She wasn't the sort to need a made-up placement to feel special among the rest of the kids at school.

"Nope. Honorary's for losers. You just are one of us. You. Just. Are. You didn't need the wall for that. It's something you feel."

There was a little pause, more grinning, some laughing.

"Like feeling there's no way I'm climbing down this tree again till I'm sober if I want to live through it. But you're going to get a real special experience here. Oh yeah. Swamp sunrise from the skies. We get the best view up here. If you wanted to visit here, this was going to be the best place to be."

[eridianfic]

✧heaven is a place I know✧

You come home after a long, long day of work to find a locked door and no key. You'd go to Leander... but it seems like he'd enjoy that far too much. Maybe Kuras will take pity on you?

Pairing: Kuras x Fem!MC Length: ~10,000 words Tags: fluff, hand holding, domesticity, bad cooking, eating, medicine, female mc, bedtime story

a/n: I wrote this for an art exchange in one of the touchstarved discords:) title references this song. Ao3 link here

It’s always nice to head back after a long day of work to privacy. You’re exhausted and smelly after hours of cleaning and frying fish for the vendor in the street and some time alone is just what you need. You’ve finally gotten your own place (too small to truly be called an apartment) but it’s yours all the same, and safe behind lock and key. In the past couple weeks you’ve been saving up money for the deposit by helping out local shopkeepers, running a few Bloodhound missions with Leander, and more days than not, gutting fish - entrails and bones twisted and morphed into shapes that feel inexplicably alien. Cleaning fish isn’t the most enjoyable work, but it pays your rent better than secrets and you get a meal out of it, too. Plus, you get to meet the people of Eridia. You hear what weather the grandmas forecast, rumors of infidelity, and sometimes, a snippet of something more: gossip about the Senobium, or the Abbess, about becoming a student… and you lean in, straining your ears to listen as closely as possible over the sound of fish frying in oil. Leander makes sure to drop by for lunch on days you work there, (had come by just today, in fact), grabbing a quick bite to eat and a side hug. He only reached for the embrace on days you’d escaped most of the fish guts. Though the best you could offer was a minimal amount of slime - even the gloves you dons at work each day over your bandages fail to prevent the scent of fish from seeping into your pores. But today, you’d been pretty tidy, so he squeezed you good and proper and left with fish in hand and a cheery, “See you around, I’ll be at the Wick later if you have time for a drink!” 

You had worked late, staying through the dinner rush of people hurrying to get a meal before darkness fell. You, too, had to be diligent about coming home to your room before dusk. You’d been lucky enough to survive your first (and second) brush with the Soulless and you planned on avoiding rolling the dice again. Third time’s the charm, and all that.

You’ve cherished the two weeks you’ve been living on your own. Staying at the Wick hadn’t been bad, exactly - not if you overlooked the raucous laughter that found its way into your room from the bar below, hardly diminished by the solid stone floor. Or tried to ignore the way your belongings would be in a slightly different location than you remembered leaving them last. Or if you brushed off the number of times a drunk couple would press against your locked door, fumbling at the handle for far too long and giggling until they would (at last) realize that their room was the one next to yours. Ok, maybe it had been pretty bad.

So you’d been all too eager to sign the lease that the disinterested landlord shoved at you after you saw the property. It was really only a room with a bed, fireplace, and washbasin, but it was all you could afford. At least until you were able to find more consistent work or decided to give up more of your secrets. Leander hadn’t let you move out without making a fuss. The conversation was still fresh in your mind.

“I’m still going to come by the Wick all the time,” you had said beseechingly, gesturing at the tavern around you.

“You’re sick of me already?” he’d pouted, face falling. “I can give you more space if you need it-” Despite your resolve to leave, guilt had nagged at your conscience. “It’s not that, I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help me out-”

“Are you confident that you are going to be safe? Allmother knows you didn’t even make it to Eridia in one piece. What if something happens before I can get there-”

“I managed on my own just fine for years before I met you, as long as I’m not out at night there’s nothing to worry about-”

“-So is it the Bloodhounds, then? If they’ve been crowding you, I’ll have a word with them, just let me know who-”

“No, they’ve been perfectly polite to me.” You had huffed out a breath, holding out your hand to stall the next question quick on his tongue. “Listen, I just… If I’m here, on your coin, it doesn’t feel like this is my home. It’s as if I’m just visiting for a while, like at any point I’ll have to leave… like everything could be pulled away from me.” 

Stability. Something that had been so hard to come by for you. Everything lately has been in so much flux. You hadn’t been able to say the rest to him - that if you stay in the bustling community of the Wet Wick, there’s a greater chance that your curse would become common knowledge. That you’d be cast out of the city, feared by the very same Bloodhounds who have been friendly to you.

Something in him had softened, and he relented at last, concern shining in his pale green eyes. “Fine. But don’t be a stranger. I’ll be keeping my eye on you. if you need anything, or if your new place turns out to be a moldy, rat infested corner of the city, you come right back, understand?”

“I looked it over when I got the key to the place and didn’t see any rats, Leander.” you had said reproachfully. “It’s cheap but it’s not that bad.”

“Well, that’s how they get you, right? The landlord goes through ahead of time and bangs some pans together, scares all the rats away quick right before you arrive, wipes the mold away-”

“I’ll be fine.” You’d given him a small smile. “Really. I’ll come back if there’s any big issues.” Despite his protestations, he had put up less of a fuss than you’d expected. Perhaps you’ve proven to him that you can hold your own - adapted to the city better than he expected.

And so, you had moved your meagre belongings inside and taken the first long breath since moving to Eridia. You had a place where you felt truly safe. For a beautiful, independent, cozy two weeks.

But it’s on the other side of the door. You stall in front of it, feet aching from your long day at the fish stall, pulling your coin purse out of the front of your shirt and fumbling in it for your key. The key. The key that should be tucked right here in your coin purse - safe from foxes with wandering hands. But, as you jam your fingers into the lint filled corners of your bag with increasing desperation, it’s just not there. You check every possible place you can think of, hands fumbling through pockets and folds of fabric time and time again. There’s nothing there. Nothing but your coin purse (with a few grimy coins inside) and a handkerchief, slightly disgusting from where you’ve used it to wipe your brow as you bent over the hot oil. 

You stand on your own doorstep, mind spinning. Maybe it fell out, somehow? You couldn’t remember anyone getting close to you today, no one of consequence. I better retrace my steps. 

The conditions weren’t in your favor. The evening was late, sun low on the horizon. It bathed the city in a warm light, turning the buildings a rosy color. Flowers sat open in the setting sun, clinging to buildings and draping from hanging planters, fragrance wafting on the balmy evening breeze. It would have been quite a romantic view if you had any time to look at it.

Instead, your eyes were firmly planted on the ground, scanning for your key between cobblestones and the contents of upended chamber pots. As the light falls, your hope does too. Dread weighs heavy and sick in your gut. It’s not safe to be outside. You need to find a place to hide out, and quickly.

The Wet Wick is a little ways away from your winding path back to the fish stall. Should I go there and meet up with Leander? He said he’d be there tonight. But honestly - a part of you rankles at returning to Leander so soon after putting up such a fuss about being independent. And you might still find your key. 

But there’s no key on your route. Nothing but dirty stones beneath your feet. You stand, forlorn in front of the now abandoned fish stall, and the sun starts to slip behind the rooftops of those rosy (now crimson) buildings. It’s about time you made up your mind. You run the rest of the way to the doorstep of Kuras’ clinic. The line has finally dispersed. No one in poor health can afford to wait out in the open when Soulless might drop by and turn their poor health into no health at all. You knock on the door with uncertainty, realizing you aren’t sure if Kuras is at the clinic this late. Does he live here…?

To your relief, the door opens and Kuras is before you, golden eyes wide in surprise. You lean back a little on your heels as he appears. He’s wearing his doctor’s uniform and the light from the room behind him illuminates the soft curls around his face like a halo. Though you’ve seen him a few times by now, you can never prepare yourself for how handsome he is. It’s like jumping into a cold pool - even if you try to prepare yourself for the chill, the plunge will have your heart pounding and skin tingling just the same. 

“...Good evening.” You flush as he takes in your harried expression, your rumpled clothes, the anxiety that you fail to conceal behind your bright smile. “...Are you well?”

“Yes! Well - I’m well enough, I suppose, only - I seem to have misplaced the key to my place. It’s not that far from here, and it was getting dark, so… I thought I’d see if you were in. I’m rather invested in keeping my arms attached, didn’t want to waste your hard work.”

“I would hope your investment in your health would be centred around the importance of your own wellbeing, not on my behalf,” he chastises, ushering you into the clinic with a wave of his hand. “But if it’s what encourages you to prioritize your safety, I’ll accept it for the time being.”

As you look around the room, you realize that you’ve never actually been in the front room of Kuras’ clinic. Well - that’s not entirely true. You might have been carried through it when you were a breath away from death. But you’ve only seen the room you woke up in, and the hallway that led out to the back door. 

This part of the clinic is minimalist but inviting. It’s a small room, with wooden chairs set along the wall and a vase of small white flowers sitting on an end table in the corner. A light, fresh herbal scent fills the air. The chairs are unpadded, the floor is stone and the rug at the center of the room is a rich brown. You try not to think about the practicalities of such a spartan design, how often there might be various fluids spilled here. A door across from you leads to what you assume is the rest of the clinic. Candles flicker in sconces along the walls.

You wrap your arms around yourself, nerves still frayed from your walk here at dusk. “Do you run this whole place by yourself?” 

“Mostly. There are a few who will lend me their aid from time to time. But it is primarily a solitary pursuit.”

Despite the inviting warmth of his personality, it’s awkward as you regard each other. You haven’t been in such close proximity to Kuras since he saved your life. It’s messing with your head a little bit that he’s standing right in front of you, close enough to touch, with all of his attention trained on you. He looks down at you, concern drawing his mouth into a line. “You’ve misplaced your key?”

“Yes - I could have sworn I had it with me when I saw Leander at work this afternoon. It must have slipped out of my coin purse somewhere along my walk home. I retraced my steps looking for it but it was getting dark and I -”

There’s an intensity to his expression as you speak, brows furrowed as he considers you, but it only lingers for a moment before he’s raising his hand towards you in a calming gesture. “Worry not. My clinic is meant to be a refuge for anyone who needs one. You are welcome to stay until the morning.” He looks at you with mock sternness. “Besides, as you’ve stated yourself - I didn’t heal you just for my work to be destroyed so soon.” You laugh at that, jittery. “I intend to cherish it, trust me. Thank you so much for allowing me to stay here. I wasn’t sure if you lived here, or maybe, if you’d be attending to patients at this hour… I can just sleep wherever you have space - the floor is fine, honestly, I don’t really need all that much. I’m just thankful to not be outside at the moment.”

He turns to face the doorway at the back of the room, hand raised to his face in contemplation. “I have no empty cots available at the moment, as I have some patients who are recovering here overnight. Nothing too severe - but they require a night’s rest before they will be well again. Come. We’ll find an option more hospitable than the floor.”

He leads you through the threshold to a hallway lined with doors that you assume lead to rooms with recovering patients, and up a staircase at the end of the hallway, pausing to unlock a large wooden door.

You step into the room after Kuras. It’s a wide, open space that’s somewhere between a storage room and an apartment. There are open shelves along the wall that contain ceramic and glass containers, each marked with an old, browning label written in a spidery scrawl. Other sections of the walls have unmarked wooden cupboards that reach the ceiling. Tightly bundled medicinal herbs hang above the high arched windows across from you. Bookshelves intersperse the storage shelves, leather bound tomes sitting side by side with colorful, flimsy paperbacks. The right side of the room has two closed doors. The floor is covered by an ornate cherry colored rug, light pink magnolia flowers with winding branches twisting around the perimeter. There’s a long couch in front of the windows, mahogany arms curling down into a scroll shape.

A worn leather armchair sits at an angle across from it, crescent-shaped eyeglasses resting on its arm. A table with a chair at either end is placed near some of the shelves, written papers atop it stacked next to pitchers of water. Colorful glass lanterns hanging from the walls illuminate the space. A lit fireplace, with hooks inside for hanging cooking pots on, stands on the left side of the room, adding to the glow. You hadn’t prepared yourself for how intimate it would feel to see such a personal space. You slip off your shoes and stand hesitatingly behind him, unsure if the heat of the room is emitting from him or the fire. There’s an urge within you to examine everything in the room - but it’d probably be poor manners to scrutinise anything too closely.

“I originally demarcated this section of the clinic as a personal space where I could keep supplies or rest on the rare occasion I happened to have a patient here late at night. However,” he continues with a wry smile, “with the poor health of Eridian citizens…that soon became most evenings.” I wonder where his house is, then, if he has one?

Kuras regards the furnishings critically before gesturing at the couch before you. “I believe this is the best solution to your problem.” He meets your eyes, lips curving into a smirk. “Of course, should you find it too uncomfortable, I have a bed in the other room.”

You inhale sharply and cough, eyes darting away from his amused gaze only to trail unbidden down the long line of his body. Images flash through your mind. The warmth of Kuras’ chest pressed against your back as he cradles you in his arms. His hand, firm and warm, spanning the curve of your hip. Both of you, sleeping soundly, beneath a ridiculously downy comforter. “Th-The couch seems really comfortable, I’m sure it’ll be perfectly fine,” you say, wheezing. 

He raises his eyebrows, expression still playful. “Do not mistake my intentions. I would rest elsewhere if you were in my bed. I do not require much sleep, and I have a few tasks that will occupy me for much of the night.” 

As you become more familiar with him, you’re increasingly certain that misunderstandings like the one you just had are precisely his intention. In his bed. Fuck. You’d been worried about the Soulless… but maybe you should have been worried about him.

As you stand close together in the room, you are suddenly reminded of the fact that you probably reek of fish. “I’m so sorry, but is there any way I could freshen up a little? I’d planned on doing it when I got home, but, well… I didn’t get the opportunity.”

“My apologies, of course. I’ll get you a change of clothes for the night as well, as you weren’t able to bring anything yourself.” He hurries right back down the stairs, and you’re charmed by how sincerely he’s looking after you. Perhaps he’d do the same for all of those under his care - but it feels special to be attended to like this. 

He returns and presses a bundle of loose clothing into your hands, along with a washcloth and a pitcher of steaming water, and leads you to one of the closed doors on the right side of the room. His bathroom. There’s a basin atop a table with a mirror behind it, with drawers and a small bar of herbal scented soap in a ceramic dish. Beneath a pointed window lies a low, long clawfoot bathtub, and a hamper off to the side. The wash basin stands far higher than comfortable for you (around chest level), and only your eyes and forehead are visible at the bottom of the mirror. You shut the door and dip the washcloth into the steaming water, sighing happily as you press it against your skin. You’re finally starting to relax. Frankly, you’re starving, but at least your stress and fear from your difficult day melt away with the oil and sweat. The bread, cheese and fruit you had waiting for you in your (locked) apartment will just have to be tomorrow's dinner instead of the meal for tonight. Carefully, you clean the grime from your skin with the hot water and soap, leaving it flushed and shining. You strip out of your clothes and into the baggy, comfortable sleepwear he’s provided for you. Am I going to end up naked every time I’m here? 

Though you’ve finished getting ready, your curiosity is piqued by the intimate domesticity of being in such a personal space. Moving quietly, you slide open one of the drawers in the wash basin stand. There’s a stack of neatly folded washcloths, a tooth brush, and a small vial at the back, filled with an amber liquid. You falter for a moment before grasping it, examining it closely. A faint smell is emitting from it - golden and resinous, warm and rich. A perfume oil. Your fingers shake a little as you hastily put it back into place, pressing the drawer closed. You stare blankly out of the window above the bathtub, mind whirling. Who does he wear that for? Special occasions, dates… Fleetingly, you think about how the scent would bloom on his skin - how it would smell with your face pressed into his neck, his hair wild around you. How it might linger on you after he left, or in your sheets the next morning - You frown, trying to collect yourself, but your gaze has slid down to the bathtub and it’s as if you can see him before you, water glistening on his bare skin, hair dark and clinging damply to his face, gaze burning as hot as the water as he beckons you closer -

Tearing your eyes away from the tub, you glare at yourself in the base of the mirror. You point your finger accusingly at your reflection. Pull it together. You give yourself one last steely look before gathering your clothes in your arms and yanking the door open abruptly. “All done.”

He looks up from where he’s seated in the worn armchair, book in hand with the pair of semicircle glasses perched on his nose. “Better?”

“Yeah, I definitely feel refreshed. The hot water was nice, thank you.” And it’s definitely the only reason why your skin is flushed. Your stomach twinges again, voicing a complaint, but you do your best to ignore it. It’s too uncomfortable to ask him to make you a meal. You take a seat on the couch across from him, legs dangling above the floor. “You don’t have to look after me, I’ll be fine on my own if you need to go check on patients or do anything else…”

“Sporadically I work from daybreak to daybreak, when my rooms are filled with those near death.” He closes the book in his hand and sets it on the low table by his side, crossing one long leg over the other. “But tonight is not one of those nights. The most serious malady downstairs is a difficult case of influenza. I will spend the evening here, with you.”

You nod, happiness creeping through you like a tendril of smoke. “So do you mainly see people who are struggling with serious illnesses? Or maybe…acute cases of dismemberment? Or are there people that come by just for checkups every so often?”

He fixes you with a pointed look. “Are you inquiring because you’d like one?”

“I-I don’t mean to impose, I’m fine! I was just curious, really.”

“Hmmm.” He contemplates you for a moment, looking at you over the top of his glasses. A catlike smile plays around the edge of his lips. “In my expert opinion, I believe I should examine you further. I would like to be certain you’re not suffering any further complications from the Soulless attack. Do my due diligence, and conduct a thorough checkup.”

Despite the teasing lilt to his voice he picks up a notebook and pen from the table at his side, scrutinizing you with a professional demeanor. “Do you have any conditions that run in your family?” His eyes shift towards your arms and you blanch a little, blindsided.

“Not that I’m aware of. Truthfully… I’ve never known my family. So, I suppose I could have a lot of conditions that will suddenly appear when I’m forty that have been passed down through generations.” You grip one hand with another, bandages taut against your knuckles, unwilling to discuss your curse. Not yet. Even though he’s seen your hands already. But he doesn’t linger or press for more information, passing on to the next question with a smoothness that can only occur after years of habit. “Have you noticed any recent changes in your appetite, weight, or sleep patterns?” You heave out a sigh. “I have. Appetite and weight are fine but I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve had nightmares for a while now but they’re so much worse lately. I keep finding myself in the wastes. Bleeding out in the mud, with no one but Soulless around.” It’s more honest of an answer than you had expected to give. You don’t tell him about the other parts. How you feel the Soulless tug and rip at your limp body. Or see the faces of each person you’ve met since arriving in Eridia twist, one by one, into madness. He tilts his head slightly, gazing at you evenly. You find it refreshing that he lets things go - accepts what you’ll tell him without peppering you with questions or discomfort coloring his face. “It’s fairly common to experience nightmares after such a traumatic event. I have a few items that may be able to aid your sleep, if you would be so inclined.” “Sure. It’d be nice to not wake up flailing around every day.”

“Let’s start with a medicinal tea, and if it doesn’t diminish their frequency or intensity, we can discuss alternatives.” He jots down a note, nodding to himself. “How has your arm recovered? Any changes in functionality?”

“No, it’s been right as rain ever since you stuck it back on.” He lifts one eyebrow at your response, sly smile returning. “Would you allow me to examine it briefly?”

“A-Alright-” And before you know it, he removes his glasses and approaches you, kneeling down on the rug at your feet. His hands, warm as the water he had brought you to wash up with, trail feather-light over the tidy stitches at your elbow. He’s incredibly close to you and it’s so difficult to look at him, his presence as stark and blinding as the sun. His fingers knead the line of stitches gently, pressing into the give of your skin. Every part of you feels hot from embarrassment and the inescapable focus of his unadulterated attention. “Hmmm. Healed perfectly.” His voice is lower now, soft as velvet in your ear, and you realize he had no doubt in the quality of his work or in your arm’s healing. That he chose to do this not because of a doctor’s duty but rather due to his interest in you, desire and curiosity merely laying atop the facade of a checkup. The realization sends heat pooling into your stomach, treacle-thick and aching. He slides his hand to the edge of your bandages and your arm jerks, years of instinct filling you with alarm -

“Shhhhhh.” He calms you like you’re a spooked horse, motions slow and gentle. Kuras smooths the top of the bandages, fingers burning like a brand against the edge of cursed skin, straightening one where it’s twisted. There’s a reverence in how he touches you. And a thrill inside as you realize that he can touch your skin without fear, that he must have done so when he healed you the first time; when he gathered your lost limb with his own and rejoined it to you. Your eyes dart between the angled lines of his furrowed brow and where his long fingers rest on your arm.

“Flex your fingers for me.” His breath puffs faintly on the side of your face. You ball your hand into a fist and then open it, fingers stretched wide. “Good.” Praise, from him.Your breath shudders as you exhale. Good. It makes you ache for more, yearn to hear it again, to do what he asks. To be so very good for him. Kuras’ hand glides down the rough lines of your bandages to your palm, thumb rubbing small circles in the center of it. The rest of his hand wraps around the back of yours, cradling it in his own. Your heart pounds and you pray he can’t feel it, that the bandages offer you some kind of protection from his observation - Allmother, his hands are so big-

“Any issues you’ve noticed with your heart or lungs?” Your hand feels so hot in his, trapped between the weight of his grasp and focused attention.

“N-No, um, everything has been normal-”

Kuras tuts at you, impeccably calm. “I find myself doubting your judgement.” Your heart pounds traitorously within the firm press of his hand. He slips it up your arm to lay on the side of your neck, where your heart beats furiously in your throat. His other hand rests on the sofa next to your hip, caging you in. “I need no medical instruments to detect that your heart beats so much faster than is normal. Or to notice how your breath comes so quickly from between your lips.”

You freeze, hyper aware of the blood rushing in your ears as it thunders by. And how your breath stutters with each teasing word.

His thumb traces the edge of your jaw, and you look at him desperately. Desire burns in you as hotly as the sensation of his fingertips on your skin. His face is level with yours, eyes dark despite their golden hue. Heat emits from him in waves, sweeping over you. You can see the delicate way his bangs fall on his skin, the way his eyelashes lower as his gaze falls to your lips. “Unless you would tell me that these are not chronic conditions, but rather very recent developments…?” 

Your hand rises of its own will and holds onto his wrist like a lifeline, unsure if you want to hold him still or tug him closer. Your voice is soft and breathy, throat dry. “...Recent. I seem to be suffering from the most sudden affliction.”

You look at his lips, the way they turn up so gently, and gather your courage, leaning forwards toward him, brush softly against the curve of his nose -

Grrrr.

Your stomach growls obnoxiously, shattering the moment. No, at a time like this?! You laugh awkwardly and pull away, cheeks red.

Kuras, truthfully, looks horrified. 

His hand falls away from your face and he lurches to his feet in alarm. “My most sincere apologies!” He runs a hand through his hair hurriedly. “I-I have been a dreadful host. You must have not had the opportunity to eat any dinner.”

Your shame is quickly overtaken by your amusement. Wow, this is the first time you’ve seen him… embarrassed?

He turns on his heel and strides quickly to the cupboards on the other side of the room. You watch as he opens them, one by one with increasing speed, pausing intermittently to peer at the top shelves, or to extend his arm into the dark recesses. Even though most of the shelves are obscured from your view by the broad span of his back, the slivers you can see appear completely barren. You rise and come to stand by his side. If he’s going to make you something to eat, it’s only polite that you’d offer to help. But it's increasingly difficult to not feel apprehensive as you stare down at the eclectic assortment of items he’s setting on the counter. As he finds each one, he places it next to you with marked relief, brushing dust off it before burrowing back into the cupboards, head barely visible. You can hardly believe your eyes. It appears that the menu for the evening consists of only the most matured items: a jar of jam, label so worn and faded that it’s nearly impossible to tell what type; a clear glass container of some pickled vegetable, green faded through time into a murky brown; a singular apple, skin slightly wrinkled, and lastly, a much newer, pumpkin-sized sack, with “Nutrient Fortified Oats,” printed boldly across the burlap material. 

The doors clatter as he closes each open cabinet and comes to stand by your side. Any remaining hope that he’d find something more palatable quickly vanishes. So… that’s it, huh. “If I knew you were this low on groceries, I’d have brought you some fish earlier. Missing key or not,” you remark, craning your neck to smile up at him. He frowns, looking down at the pile, his hands clasped behind his back. “It has been quite some time since I’ve been to the market.” You raise your eyebrows. Eons, maybe. Kuras hums contemplatively. “I thought I had some asparagus hidden away, but I haven’t been able to locate it.” You peer at the murky mystery vegetable, lifting it up to get a better look at it in the lantern light. “I think… this may be the asparagus,” you say, squinting.

He stoops to take a closer look at it. “Ah, that it is!” he declares brightly.

“Though, um, asparagus is not a vegetable that I’m overly fond of,” you hazard, looking at the jar with trepidation. Some of the stalks inside appear to have lost their shape, partially dissolving into the brine. You actually enjoy asparagus, on occasion. But you desperately would like to avoid eating this kind. “I think oatmeal sounds perfect.” It’s certainly a safer option than trying either of the items in the jars.

“A wise choice. It’s quite heartening - I prepare it for patients who have been at my clinic overnight. It seems to give them the strength to go on their way.” He retrieves a gigantic pot from next to the fireplace and hesitates. “How much would you like?”

You look at the huge pot with wide eyes and then back at him. It’s almost big enough that you could sit in it. “Oh, um, just a bowl amount would be fine…” As he starts to pour the entire pitcher full of water into the pot, you ask hesitantly, “...are you having some too?”

“No, I’ve already eaten.”

You watch silently as he adds a second pitcher of water into the pot. He tosses in a couple cups of oats and hefts the huge pot onto a hook in the fireplace, suspending it above the flames. It appears more as if he’s making an oat-based tea than it does oatmeal. He hangs a kettle on a hook next to it. Frankly, the pot contains probably about eight times as much water as you would have used yourself. But it’s his kitchen, and he’s already done you the tremendous favour of allowing you to spend the night. So you bite your tongue and think longingly about the meal you have waiting for you in your apartment. The two of you take a seat at the dining room table. “The oatmeal takes a good while to cook,” he says, handing you the slightly withered apple. That’s probably an understatement, if he normally boils it in this much water. 

You take an apprehensive bite. It’s not too bad. It hasn’t gone mealy, and still has a tart brightness to it. "I saw you were reading a book earlier." You lean forwards, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. "What's it about?"

"It is a story about uncovering a criminal."

"A mystery novel?"

"Of a sort." He looks down where his hands rest along the edge of the table. You can hear the gentle sound his ring makes as he presses his hand against it. "It's one I have read countless times before."

"Is it a favourite of yours?"

"Not exactly. But it is one I find myself returning to, from time to time."

"Sounds like it's worth hearing about." You take another bite of the apple, leaning back in your chair.

He smiles a little at that, inclining his head in admission. "There is a kingdom ruled by a wise king, who is well liked and increases the prosperity of all. As he reaches the very beginning of old age - an age where he might still have some twenty years ahead of him - he falls ill. It begins as a cough that grows worse by the day. The entire castle can hear him as he coughs through the night. But one day, he falls into a dreamless sleep that no one can wake him from and eventually wastes away.”

He continues, voice measured and gaze focused far off in the distance. “The land mourns - but none as much as his firstborn son. He had hoped to learn more from his father before it was his turn to rule over the kingdom. As a testimony to the wisdom of his father, the young prince keeps all of his father's advisors and court, to guide him as the new king. Of note, there is the lead of the palace guard, a few lords of the lands within the kingdom, a royal physician, a royal magician, and the head of the palace staff. The years pass peacefully once more as the new king has much of the good sense that his father possessed. The lands are so bountiful that he selects members of the court to send to neighboring kingdoms as envoys to form alliances. He sends much of the court, including the court's magician. The new king marries and has a beautiful daughter."

The kettle whistles, and he rises, pouring the boiling water into a teacup and adding a bundle of herbs. “For your nightmares,” he says gently, placing it before you. 

You sniff it warily, but all you find is the friendly and familiar smell of camomile. "This story doesn't seem like much of a mystery yet," you muse, taking a sip and settling back in your chair as you prepare to hear the rest. The tea settles warmly in your stomach.

"The base of the mystery is there already," Kuras remarks, with a twinkle in his eye. "The new king is cautioned by his queen that he trusts too easily, for she had come from a land where betrayal was common. He begins to doubt the death of his father and the sudden way in which he fell ill. He watches the remaining courtiers more closely and asks those whom he had sent away to return, out of fear that they might be swayed by gilded promises to turn against him. His daughter grows into a young girl. The magician had kept a small garden before he left as an envoy, in which he grew various plants for potions and natural remedies. He had always kept it well tended and forbade others from entering, stating they would trample the flowers. But in his absence, it begins to grow unruly. New plants spring forth from the earth, the plants in the garden diversifying without his watchful eye to weed out newcomers. One day, the princess is found in this overgrown garden - in the same, unending sleep that the king's father died from. Perhaps poisoned when she was out of view."

"Is there an assassin in the court? Or maybe someone from one of the neighboring lands?"

"The king suspects as much. He brings each member of the court into the throne room and interrogates them. It seems as if the same person who killed the king has laid in wait all these years. Lord Lautier is the leader of the largest section of the lands in the kingdom, and the king suspects tyranny. He was a lord when the former king passed. He threatens and pleads with him to tell him how to wake the princess, but Lord Lautier has no answers for him. So the king casts him into the dungeons in disgust. Next, he speaks with the head of guards, fearing a coup, but the man is earnest and forthcoming. Still, he sends him to the dungeon out of mistrust. The king even begins to suspect the queen. Perhaps she had so often spoken of treachery because of a guilty heart. And so, she too is locked away. Each person has words that appear earnest at first glance, but for the king, they ring false. His paranoia follows him like a shadow. He begs the court physician to heal his daughter, and the physician tries remedy after remedy, but nothing wakes her. He brings in every healer he can find in his desperation - but no matter what potion, spell, or medicine - the princess remains asleep. The magician is the last to arrive at the castle from his duties as an envoy. When he hears word of the sleeping princess, he grows pale and rushes to his quarters, crafting a potion. It works - it wakes the princess. The king promises the magician whatever he wants in return, but he will not accept a reward."

Kuras pauses, hearing the dull rumble of boiling water. He lifts a ladle from the wall and scoops the oatmeal into a large wooden bowl, setting it before you with a spoon. It looks abysmal. The oats float, unmoored and swollen, in the cloudy hot water. It’s more something that you could drink than eat. You dip your spoon into the, well, oat broth, and gingerly place it in your mouth. Oh, you think grimly, he didn’t season it at all. Or… maybe he did, but it got diluted by the water? 

You swallow quickly and try to find another question to ask about the story. You need to buy time so you can decide how you’re going to get away with only eating a tiny portion of the food when you were so hungry earlier. I bet his patients could get better even faster if he wasn’t feeding them such a depressing meal. "So, who tried to assassinate the princess?"

"The king's fear turns to anger now that his daughter is safe. He will not rest until he discovers how his daughter became afflicted. He goes nearly mad with rage, ordering torture upon the imprisoned members of the court. One day, as he interrogates the court physician, convinced that perhaps he had not truly tried to heal his daughter, the physician speaks. How strange is it, he says, that the magician was able to cure his daughter when no other could? The king's gratitude turns to suspicion, and he orders the magician to be jailed like so many of the others. But before the magician is taken away in chains, he confesses." 

You twirl your spoon in your bowl, watching as the oats spin. The room is pleasantly warm (from Kuras just as much as the fire), and drowsiness is seeping into your bones. You take another bite, hiding your grimace with a gulp of the herbal tea. "So the magician was a traitor the whole time?"

"Years ago, when the aging king fell ill, the magician had done his best to find a remedy that might ease his sleep and allow him to heal from his sickness. He read ancient texts and cultivated a flower that would aid in rest. But in his inexperience, and the king's weakened state, the undiluted flower was far too potent, and the king could not be woken. When he died, the magician lost his king, as well as his honesty. If anyone learned of his potion, he knew he would be executed. The palace grieved in the years after - but none so much as the magician. He did trial after trial and came up with a remedy to this endless sleep - though it was too late. He banished the plant from his garden and swore to never tell a soul what he had done. To live a life in service to the new king as his penance. When he was sent to a neighboring kingdom, in his absence, those soporific flowers bloomed once more. Some seeds had lain dormant in the soil despite the magician’s efforts to eradicate them. And the princess, fancying herself a florist, found them after they bloomed and inhaled their pollen. At last, the magician had a chance to use his remedy and alleviate his guilt. But in doing so, he exposed his original sin."

You glance at your tea before glaring at him in mock suspicion. “I hope that is a fictional flower. I may have nightmares but I’m quite fond of my ability to wake up. There are some unsettling parallels that are becoming increasingly difficult to ignore -” 

Kuras laughs in surprise, holding his hands out in supplication. “A mere coincidence, I assure you.” You yawn, waving his sentence away. “I’ll believe you, I suppose. No point in the alternative. I’m already sleepy, so if you’ve doomed me to eternal slumber, I’m probably already beyond saving. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” You mull over the conclusion to the story, listening to the soft crackle of the fire. "Was the magician executed, as he had feared?"

Kuras steeples his fingers together and regards you with a long, searching look."Yes."

You slouch in your chair, pulling your knees to your chest. "But the magician didn't mean to harm anyone. I mean, he was only trying to help the king, and then he spent the rest of his years trying to make it right. Wouldn't you have pardoned him?"

Kuras sighs. "Does his remedy for the princess erase his former mistake? Can his guilt and shame bring the king back to life? What of the members of the court who were imprisoned and tortured - does the magician hold no blame for their treatment, when he could have ended it by breaking his silence earlier?" 

You shake your head slowly, eyes fixed on the way his mouth twists as he speaks.

He continues, voice firm. "I do not believe atonement can be merely crossed off a list. There is no endpoint where one's good deed has nullified the initial transgression. Perhaps… the magician is right to live in service to the king as penance, just as the king is right to take his life." 

It doesn’t entirely feel like the two of you are only talking about the story now. “Hmmm,” you yawn, drumming your fingers against the surface of the table next to your (mostly still full) bowl of slop. “I think good deeds can eventually outweigh the original crime, if there’s enough of them. Sure, it might not erase the initial mistake. But people learn a lot from messing up and it can motivate them to go out and do great things. I guess intention and effort matter to me, when I consider… when I consider whether someone should be forgiven.” 

You rub your hand over your face, sleepiness weighing down your eyes. Despite Kuras’ promise that your tea isn’t going to put you into an eternal rest, you find yourself doubting him. There’s a desperate craving to find some warm cozy corner to curl up in that has spontaneously appeared. “It sounds like I’ll have to read the story myself. To see if I agree with you.”

Kuras seems, in that moment, older than he appears. As fixed and enduring as a wizened tree, burls formed by years of growth around one wound. His golden eyes are fixed, once more, on that distant point far beyond you. “Absolution,” he murmurs, nearly lost in the crackle of the fire. “Who can give it, save for those whom were wronged? And in their absence…” 

But the moment is lost, and the man you recognise is back before you, levity glinting in his eyes.”Yes, I’ll lend it to you. Let me know whether your opinion is altered upon completion.” He rises and crosses to your end of the table, frowning at your nearly untouched meal in disapproval. “Eating well is the foundation of health,” he chides, taking your full bowl away just the same. 

Your drowsiness is becoming impossible to ignore, weighing you down like you’ve been submerged in sand. “That’s why your cupboards are empty,” you mumble, laying your head across your folded arms on the surface of the table. “You eat up everything and make a h-huge monstrous breakfast or something so you can be the strongest.”

He breathes out a huff of laughter as he sets your bowl down on the counter. You continue dreamily, exhaustion making you bold. “It’s why you’re the picture of good health. Shiny hair and skin that’s so glowy and also - it’s the reason you’re never cold, I bet.”

You hear his steps pause over your shoulder, close behind you. “It appears that it’s time for you to turn in,” he says, amusement as warm in his voice as the coals in the fireplace. “And maybe next time we’ll steep the tea for a little less time, hmm?”

You close your eyes, head feeling as heavy as a boulder where it rests on your arms. It’s childish but you can’t resist. “Don’t wanna move. Bring me a blanket and I’m comfy cozy riiiiight here.” 

He gives an exasperated sigh. One of his arms slides beneath your knees where they rest on the edge of your seat and his other cradles your back. He lifts you high into the air like you weigh nothing, and you hum happily, pressing your face into the warmth of his chest. The room sways gently with his steps as he carries you across the room to the couch. “Mmm. I could sleep juuuust like this.” 

He laughs and you can feel the deep rumble of it, sense the soft exhale of breath against your forehead as your hair stirs. 

“You’ll be thankful in the morning that you slept laying down.” He places you down on the couch so gently that the transition blends together, the strong support of his arms transforming seamlessly into the plush give of the cushions. 

You keep your eyes closed and roll onto your side, facing the front door. Everything feels so heavy and comfortable. You hear the soft sound of his footsteps as he crosses the room. “Are you leaving?” you ask plaintively.

The sound of his voice is immediately reassuring. “I’ll return in just a moment.” 

He’s true to his word. There’s the soft click of a door opening and closing before you feel the gentle weight of a blanket being draped around you. “Head up,” he says quietly, sliding his palm against your head to lift it and place a pillow beneath it. You nuzzle into the surface. It smells like him. Like that fragrance you found in the bathroom. Though your eyes are closed, you can feel him, standing before you. Hesitating. 

Then he’s stooping, brushing the hair back from your face where it’s fallen across it. He presses a kiss to your temple, featherlight and gone in a heartbeat. 

“Stay with me?” you murmur. You’d kick yourself in the morning for being so clingy, if you’d remember it. But for now, you yearn for his companionship. It’s been so very long since you’ve had someone with you while you slept. So long since you’ve felt safe enough in someone’s company to sleep with them there.

“I have some paperwork to attend to.”

And there’s a small part of your heart that wilts at that, mourns the end of your night, where morning will come and end this time together, but it feels unfair to ask again. You pout a little, turning your face down into the pillow. You hear the soft rustle of pages, his footsteps padding across the carpet, a light metallic scrape, and then - the firm weight of his back against your knees. You crack open a bleary eye in surprise. Kuras is seated on the floor in front of the couch, peering through his glasses at paperwork balanced on his knees before him. He leans against the front of the couch, pressing against your legs. He glances to the side, meeting your eyes. “Go to sleep,” he scolds you affectionately.

That pang in your heart dissipates, replaced with blossoming joy. Joy that he chooses, still, to be with you. Chooses to stay despite the childishness of your request. “You work really hard,” you mumble. You almost miss his reply as you spin into sleep. 

“I must.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The soft sound of clanking metal wakes you, and as you blink your eyes open, it almost feels as if no time has passed at all. The sky through the windows is speckled with stars and the room is still dark and lantern-lit. But a new fire has been started in the fireplace, wood not yet blackened. And Kuras is there, bowed before it, ladle stirring the pot hung once more over the flames. He looks the same as he did when you fell asleep, and you wonder if he slept at all. 

As you stretch, he looks over. “Any nightmares?”

“None,” you yawn, cracking your neck. It’s the most refreshed you’ve been in months. “I guess the tea works!” 

“I am glad to hear it,” he says sincerely. “I’ll parcel some out for you to keep at home.” 

To your surprise, your clothes are folded neatly over the arm of the couch. “How long have you been up?” you say groggily, sniffing them when his back is turned. There’s no fish scent to them, only a faint scent that you’re starting to associate with him. 

“I rise before the sun so I can prepare the clinic for the arrival of patients,” he replies, taking a seat in the armchair nearby. “I’ve already seen my overnight patients this morning, they should be well enough to leave in a few hours. Breakfast is ready if you would like some.”

You head to the bathroom to change back into your clothes but stop in your tracks when you pass the fireplace and see the same murky, oat water from the night before in the pot. Oh no. He must have fed some of this to his patients already. You waver on the threshold of the bathroom.

“I’m good without breakfast today, Kuras. But thank you so much for thinking of me.” “Any coffee or tea?” Normally, you’d have tea or coffee to push back your exhaustion from your lack of quality sleep. Today, you don’t need it. Still, it seems wise to allow him to give you something - lest you have to eat leftover oatmeal. “Whichever is great!” you call back, shutting the door behind you.

When you return, he offers you a steaming cup of coffee, the scent wafting through the air. “It’s good you woke up when you did. I would like to accompany you to the Wet Wick in a few moments when dawn has broken. Leander and his Bloodhounds have a certain… luck for finding lost things in the city. It would serve us well to see if your key has been turned in. And if we leave shortly, I should be able to return to the clinic before any patients arrive.” 

Despite the casualness of his words, his voice is controlled and stiff. There’s something so stern about him, so commanding, that you finish your coffee quickly, gather your belongings (with the addition of the tea and the book he’s lent you), and fall in step behind him without a word like a meek schoolchild. He walks so quickly to the Wet Wick that you have to break into a jog every few steps to keep up. Despite the fast pace, it’s enjoyable walking with him. When you’re by yourself, you have to be constantly watching for the few landmarks you know. Not to mention dodging wheelbarrows and carts in the streets, puddles full of the contents of chamber pots, and vines that seem to grow out of the gutter with the sole intention of tripping you. 

With Kuras at the helm, you can simply trail behind him as a passenger, taking in the flowers, the beautiful stonework on the buildings, and the incredibly enjoyable way his broad shoulders narrow into his waist and muscular thighs. Yes, you’ve always been fond of sightseeing.

The Wick in the morning feels innately wrong, like a vampire came along and sucked all the life out of it. All the dust and grime show up in the harsh light of the rising sun. The many tables and chairs are deserted and the room is unsettlingly silent, save for the soft sound of birdsong. The innkeeper stands behind the bar, her face puffy with sleep, bent over a ledger. As she sees the two of you approach, she nods, and heads upstairs - no doubt to get Leander.

You stand by Kuras’ side, fidgeting. It’s awfully strange to be here so early. When you’d lived here there had normally been a few people playing cards or eating breakfast by the time you got up. Leander thuds down the stairs hurriedly. He looks even more exhausted than usual, hair tousled. Kuras, meanwhile, is the picture of composure, hands clasped behind his back. “Good morning, Leander.” 

“Kuras! I didn’t expect you to be here so early.. and look who you’ve brought along! Thank goodness, I was so worried!”

Kuras frowns at him, and there’s an intensity to his gaze you’ve rarely glimpsed before. “Why is it that you were worried?”

“Because I found her key, of course!! Where in the world did you spend the night?” His eyes move from Kuras’ to yours, and he grabs you by the shoulders, scanning every inch of you. “I’m so happy you’re safe.” He pulls you, bodily, into a hug. You pat his back. You hadn’t meant to worry him. 

“She was with me.” Leander stiffens, brow creasing as he pulls back. 

You nod, smiling awkwardly. “Yes, Kuras was kind enough to extend his hospitality while I was locked out of my place. I made it to his door just in time.”

“You spent the night with him?” Leander pauses, examining you for what, you aren’t sure - before continuing. “In Kuras’ clinic? That’s no place to sleep! You’ll be lucky if you didn’t catch anything, spending time around all those sick people.” He runs his hand through his hair raggedly, distraught. “The Wick was open all night, you know you always have a room here, don’t you? I didn’t sleep a wink, I was so worried about you!”

Your eyes widen, guilt growing. Maybe you should have just come to the Wick instead. Did he really stay up all night out of concern?

Kuras’ hand falls to your shoulder, steadying you. It feels unsettlingly like you’re caught in a battle between the two of them. “The key, Leander,” Kuras grinds out, patience wearing thin. 

“Of course, I’ve kept it right here on me. I wanted to make sure it was safe and didn’t get lost again.” He pulls it from his pocket and hands it to you, eyes sympathetic.  

Kuras feels as resolute as a stone pillar by your side. “Yes, quite fortunate that luck was on your side and you were able to find it. Let us hope that, after today, luck directs itself towards keeping keys firmly where they belong.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Leander replies tersely, mouth downturned. “I’d prefer if she didn’t have to rely on luck to keep track of the key, too. If she lost it from her coin purse, where can she keep it where it won’t fall out?” He turns to you, hand on his hip. “It’s not safe to live on your own if you’re going to end up on the wrong side of a locked door with no way to open it.”

You clench the key tightly in your hand. “I’ll keep track of it.” Your coin purse. The one that’s tucked down the front of your shirt, imperceptible except for a thin cord around your neck. How did he know where you kept your key? Nervously, you brush your bandaged hands over the numerous pockets around your waist. There’s some in your pants and cloak - even in the top of your boots.

Leander looks at you skeptically. “As long as you remember that the Wick is open at all hours. Besides,” he says, gesturing at Kuras. “He’s not at the clinic every evening. It’s risky if you’re counting on him being there.”

“Yes, there are a few rare evenings when I’m not at the clinic.” Kuras nods at him, voice colder than usual. “I will show her my primary residence so she’ll be able to locate me in moments of crisis.”

“... And I’ll keep an eye on my key,” you say nervously, trying to dispel the tension. “That way everything will be fine.” You glance between the two of them. “I lived through the night, ok? I’m thankful that both of you are so generous and want to look after me.”

Your mind shifts again to your coin purse. Leander’s the only one who had gotten close to you yesterday. When he hugged you at the fish stall. Your stomach churns. “Well… I had better drop this off at home and then head to work,” you say, raising Kuras’ book in your hand. “Thanks again to the both of you. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble or worry.” 

“It was no trouble at all,” Kuras says smoothly, warmth returning again to his voice. “And please do drop by later to let me know what you think of the story, when you’ve finished it.”

“I’ll see you at lunch,” Leander says, searching your face. 

You smile back at him, but you’re not certain it reaches your eyes. “Of course.”

Your feet follow the route back to your apartment mindlessly, key in hand and thoughts spinning. It’s mystifying how your key found its way outside of your coin purse. Perhaps Leander had seen the outline of the bag beneath your shirt, or deduced that you wouldn’t keep it in your pocket. There’s a layer of guilt that lays across your thoughts like grease. He’s been so nice to you, and had looked so intensely relieved when he saw you were safe and sound. It feels unreasonable to suspect him of any misdeed. Swiftly, you drop the key into the top of your boot and kick your leg until it rests solidly against the sole of your foot. You’ll try this hiding spot for now. Until your doubts fade. At least the sharp discomfort of it beneath you will be a reminder of the fact that it’s there. You’re thankful, now, that you thought to visit Kuras’ clinic instead of going to the Wet Wick. Like Leander clearly had wanted.

You’ll have to read the book Kuras lent you quickly. The memory of his warm touch, the tenderness with which he treated you, and the heat that lingered in his gaze… yes, you desperately want to see him again. You want to learn why it is that he’s so inexplicably harsh when it comes to redemption. You want to smell that warm, resinous scent that clung to his pillow again. And, if he’ll let you, you want to teach him how to make his patients something other than disgusting oatmeal.

[the-ragbros-are-okay]

i actually feel as though i am going insane bc i need to do TOMORROWS commissions to get the last story key for kaeya’s story quest because i was an IDIOT and and DIDNT

and now i feel like i’m full of BEES

PLUS. IM GOING ON A TRIP.TOMORROW

so i’m waking up early and doing my commissions and then a story quest bc i’ll be damned if i have to wait three more fucking days to see my favorite traumatized blue haired man

[chastiefoul]

he finds you crying ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus a/n: I always feel like mc wasn’t given enough time to grief when chapter 4 happened (or maybe they just didn’t show it or i remember it wrong) but to lose the people you’ve considered family like that in front of your eyes would severely mess on anyone’s mental well-being. mc stronger than me fr i would've had a breakdown every night. so i tried to write the comfort that was long overdue. <3

Zayne

He found you hunched over at the couch, knees tucked to your chest. your shoulder shook as he heard the sniffles and although he’s physically perfectly fine, he swore it felt like his heart was breaking in two.

He would gently put his key on the table, making his presence known in the subtlest way possible so you didn’t get startled.

You quickly tried to wipe your eyes and sat normally but suddenly in no time you were carried as he made you sit on his lap, bringing your head close to his neck as he held you tight.

Zayne wasn’t one who’s great at offering consoling words, as he also a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. As he rubbed your back gently he only said, “Let it all out, I’m here.”

So you did just that. You’ve said this once to him as a joke, but truly, anywhere by his side was the time you felt the most safe.

The doctor continued to comfort you in silence, hoping with every beat of his heart that his arms and hands that’s so used in saving people’s lives, could offer at least some kind of solace for your heart that was in disarray.

Xavier

He’d never hated the sight of a bed so much, until he found you crying atop of it.

Xavier would rushes over to you (arguably faster when he encountered strayed wanderers), determined to do anything he could to help you feel better.

As he put a hand over your cheek, wiping the tears that just kept on coming he whispered, “I’m here, what do you need?”

When you couldn’t even manage a reply Xavier would just stay by your side, his and was diligent in rubbing the side of your face; he never felt so useless, knowing the little gesture gave almost to none help.

For someone who finds sleep easy inbetween every hours, that was the most restless he’s ever been. He stayed with you until you calmed down, offering gentle whispers as you felt your awake state slipping away.

The moment you’re asleep Xavier was keen on wiping your face softly off of the remaining tears, and he tucked you in properly. He brought you to his embrace.

Yet unlike any other nights, he couldn’t find any part of him that was able to join you into the dream state.

Rafayel

Rafayel knew he came at a bad time. Seeing the way you spoke so stiffly and the way you zoned out of the conversation every few minutes.

However, he also knew he couldn’t leave you alone right then.

The silence once again was loud, but he didn’t think you realize that, as he followed your stare to the table, to what’s on the top of the table to be exact. A necklace with an apple charm on it.

He approached your side, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Miss bodyguard, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you know? Especially now, since you’re off duty.”

You chuckled quietly, but what followed after was not your usual easy smile but instead it was tears streaming down your face. And it felt like Rafayel could offer anything he had just to make them stop. And if that’s not enough, he swore to give you twice or thrice of what he had, it didn’t matter if he was to be in debt.

He held you tight, the sight of you crying was enough to make tears made their way to his eyes as well. And it pained him, knowing the best he could do in that moment was only to hold you tighter, as he wished that he could mend whatever broken part you had with one of his.

Sylus

He didn’t even flinch when you climbed on his lap, your usual talkativeness was nowhere to be found.

You rested your head on his shoulder and within seconds he knew that your emotions were in chaos, and if you thought you could find comfort in him, then he was more than happy to be there for you.

“Let me stay like here for a while,” you said weakly, voice all tense and anxious.

He brought a palm to your back, “By all means, darling. You didn’t think I was going to turn you away, did you?”

You stayed quiet, trying your best to get your emotions in order but it just seemed impossible. Sylus then sigh at your another attempt to pretend once again that you’re okay. “Cry if you need. Tears were never a sign of weakness, it just proves that you’re human.”

His rigid sentence somehow brought a strange sense of comfort for you, making your tears escape freely.

Sylus’ fingers felt fleeting on your back, like a touch that could slip away anytime. But he made sure none of that will happen as he stroke your hair gently over and over.

Was he worried of you? Absolutely. Yet he believed with all of his entire being that you that has fallen apart that day, would have no time standing back up again on the next day.

If there’s anything he learnt about you during your time with him, is that you’re a stranger to giving up.

[aurorawritestoescape]

BE MY GUEST

No outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: working as a hotel housekeeper, you meet a handsome guest under quite unexpected circumstances. An awkward conversation leads to a friendly relationship that grows into something none of you expects.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, lots of fluff, a bit of angst, age gap (the size is up to you, Joel is in his late 30s-early 40s, reader is younger), Sarah is alive (7 y.o), pining, strangers to friends to lovers, soft Joel, insecure reader, accidental flashing, praise kink, f!oral, unprotected piv, creampie, m/f masturbation, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, aftercare, phone/video sex, pet names, swearing. Joel can lift reader. Reader wears a uniform dress.

Word count: 12k

A/n: I’m finally posting this story and I’m sooo excited. It took me a lot of time, I love these two very much and I hope you all will like them, too. It’s written for @yxtkiwiyxt ‘s Never Have I Ever Challenge. My prompt was ’never have i ever booked a hotel room just to go have sex‘. Thank you for the fun event, Kiwi!💞 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and supporting me through the journey aka writing this fic lol ILY❤️ Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

“Housekeeping!” you announced yourself loudly when you came up to room 605. Following the protocol, you’d knocked three times before that, waited for two minutes and the silence was your invitation to enter. You rolled your housekeeping cart closer to the door and opened it with your master key.

When you walked through a short hall and into the living area, you expected to find anything. Having worked as a hotel housekeeper for only a year, you’d already seen your fair share of messy beds, spilled drinks, broken furniture, completely trashed rooms, so nothing could surprise you.

Nothing except for a man lying naked in bed with his cock out. Even a glance was enough to realize that he was busy stroking himself, a mobile phone in hand.

Everything happened lightning fast— you gasped, hands clasped over your mouth — the man cursed and hastily covered himself with a sheet — you squeaked a timid ’sorry’ and ran out of the room.

A string of curses was leaving your mouth as you were hurrying away from room 605, pushing the heavy cart in front of you.

***

Minutes later you were in the staff locker room, panting, sweaty palms pressed to your chest, your heart racing.

‘Why?’ You were asking yourself, ’why didn’t he hear you announce yourself and knock?’‘ First, you thought that he wanted you to see him— during your time working in the hotel you’d met a few creeps, but that man seemed genuinely shocked, when you appeared in his room, and embarrassed when your eyes landed on his exposed member.

He must have been wearing headphones. Probably. Hopefully. For some reason you didn’t want him to be a perv. He was too handsome, too hot. And his cock was… ahhh it was amazing— long and thick, fat tip angry red and glistening in the bright light of the sun. He must have been close to coming.

Your eyes were still widened, hands shaking, but your lips curved into a little smile, thinking about him, a heat rising in your belly. You started bringing any detail you could to mind - his dark disheveled hair - he’d probably just woken up, his naked chest, broad and strong, a happy trail on his tummy, the big hand, wrapped around his —

”Hey, babe!”

You jumped, scared to death, your heart, that was slowing down after the incident, was pounding again.

“Hi, Max,” you breathed out, greeting your colleague and friend who’d just entered the room. She was your age, funny, kind and extremely nosy.

You turned to the lockers, away from her, embarrassed by the tingling between your legs, but also worried that she’d notice your flustered face.

”What’s wrong?”

Fuck!

“Nothing,” you lied, trying to calm down. Silence filled the room. When you glanced back at Max, she was staring at you, her eyes narrowed. Obviously, she wasn’t buying it.

“Ok. I’ll tell you,” you sighed, reluctant to talk about it at first, but Max was always reliable and loyal so you thought ‘why the hell not’ and started talking, “Something happened.”

“Yeah?” She immediately lit up, anticipating something juicy.

“I was working on the 6th floor and I entered this room and — shit— I saw a man, you know, naked and —“

Max opened her mouth exaggeratingly wide and was waiting for you to go on.

“That man — he was ehm— watching something on his phone and —you know?”

You were trying to find the right words, but Max was not the one to beat around the bush.

“Jacking off?!”

“Shhh, Max!” you hissed, raising your hands, begging her to speak quieter with your pleading eyes. “What if Ms Hewitt hears?!”

“Ms Hewitt hears what?”

You wanted to drop dead at that moment. Your heart plummeted into your stomach when the housekeeping supervisor, a tall blond middle aged woman, appeared behind you.

“Ehm, nothing,” you replied with a fake smile.

Ms Hewitt looked you up and down as she always did, checking if everything was perfect in her staff’s attire, then her eyes focused on your face. Her piercing gaze was enough for you to crumble, especially when she said,

“Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.”

You had never been a good liar so you took a deep breath and decided to come clean. You were sure that you’d done nothing wrong but anxiety was still churning your stomach.

You cleared your throat and started talking a mile a minute as if it would make it sound less bad.

“I was on the 6th, was about to clean the 605, and I knocked three times, waited for two minutes. No one answered so I opened the door. I announced myself! I did everything by the book, I swear, but somehow the guest didn’t hear me and he was naked in bed and… and…”

Max’s high pitched ‘jacking off’ almost flew out of your mouth but you shut it just in time.

Miss Hewitt's poker face didn’t reveal anything for a few long seconds until she pushed,

”And?”

You shifted on your feet nervously, cleared your throat and exhaled,

“He was pleasuring himself.”

Max burst into giggles, you flinched and quickly made big eyes at her. She clamped her palm over her mouth and shook her head, apologising with her eyes.

Ms Hewitt was less entertained by your story. She kept looking at you with the same expression and you felt like time had stopped.

“Ms Harmon, don’t you have the 3rd floor today?“ the woman asked Max sternly.

Your friend mumbled a disappointed ‘yes, ma’am’ and dragged herself out of the room.

When you two were left alone, Ms Hewitt’s face softened, and she asked you with her voice lowered. “Was he inappropriate with you, honey?”

“Oh, no-no-no! No!” you hurried to assure her, “he was embarrassed— said sorry. I apologised too and ran out. It was just an accident. Maybe he was wearing headphones or something,” you added fumbling with your fingers. “I’m sure he didn’t want it to happen.”

The supervisor was slowly nodding, listening to you.

For a few moments she was standing there in thought until she spoke.

“I suppose you should talk to him and apologise.”

Your jaw hit the floor.

“What? Talk to him? Why? I did nothing wrong!”

“Yes, probably, but if he feels like you did, he might go to the manager and tell him that you committed an invasion of privacy. And what does Mr Stewart always say? ‘A guest is always right.’ You’d be fired in a second.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t think he’ll complain.”

“Why?” Ms Hewitt’s brows shot up. “Has seeing his penis given you an understanding of his whole personality? We don’t know that person. I don’t want you to lose your job over an accident. If you want I’ll go with you.”

Now you were completely terrified.

“Oh no, no, it’ll be even more awkward.”

“Ok, but tell me how it goes,” the woman said on her way to the door, then stopped and added. “Do it today.”

When she left, you plopped on the bench and stared at your palms. How could you talk to him? After what you’d seen. After what you’d felt. You hoped that he was the man you thought him to be and prayed he wouldn’t make it hard for you. Hard, you murmured and hid your smiling face behind your hands.

You knocked on Joel Miller’s hotel door a few hours later, making sure that the sound was loud enough. Your throat dried up and you cursed under your breath, praying that you wouldn’t have to talk for too long.

To prepare for the conversation l, you had asked for the guest’s name at the reception and learnt that he had booked the room for a week.

Mr Miller opened the door fully clothed this time. He was wearing a white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants. You noticed that he swallowed loudly when he saw you and his expression showed

that he definitely recognised you.

“Mr Miller, can we talk? It’ll take a few minutes.”

“Oh, of course, come in.” He gave you a little smile and stepped aside, letting you enter. You walked into the room and he followed you.

He stopped a few steps away, giving you enough personal space, and you were grateful— it was easier to talk that way.

You dropped your eyes to the floor at his bare feet and said the speech you’d rehearsed a hundred times by now.

”I’d like to apologise for what happened earlier. I assure you, it won’t happen again. I’ll knock harder and announce myself louder next time.”

“Oh no, no, it was my fault,” he said hurriedly and you looked up at the man. He was rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks blushed. It seemed that he was embarrassed just like you and it made you feel better.

“I had an earbud in my right ear,” Mr Miller began explaining. “Noise cancelling.. damnit,” he mumbled under his breath. ”And my left ear is really bad…a work accident. That’s why I didn’t hear you.”

You were glad that your theory turned out to be right and sighed with relief.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It must’ve been horrible to see…damn, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s ok.”

That ‘sweetheart’ made you tingle all over and you smiled to yourself, thinking that it wasn’t a horrible sight at all.

“It was an accident. I’m glad that you’re not angry at me, sir.”

“Angry? Of course, not. I’m embarrassed and very sorry for what you had to see and — wait, please.”

Mr Miller walked to the nightstand and bent over to grab something. Your eyes immediately slid from his broad muscular back, straining his tee, to his ass, looking absolutely sinful in those sweatpants. His body made you feel hot all over again. You quickly snapped your eyes back to his face when he turned to you.

"Oh no, Mr Miller, you don't have to—.”

You shook your head, having noticed a wallet in his hands.

"I insist.”

He walked up to you and pulled a few bills out. He stopped in front of you, leaned closer, took your hand and placed the cash into your palm.

"I'm really sorry."

You felt the warmth of his skin against yours, his smile was warm and timid, and it was a fleeting moment, but the time seemed to feeeze for you. You drowned in his honey eyes, his gruff voice reached the deepest parts of you and a scorching fire licked at your core. Your chest swelled with a feeling so overwhelming and strong that it almost knocked you off your feet.

Trying to hide the tornado inside you, you lowered your eyes and glanced at his hand, so big in comparison to yours. Suddenly, an image of Mr Miller's palm wrapped around his cock flashed in your mind. Your breath hitched, you pulled your hand away, squeaked "Thank you, sir” and rushed to the door on shaky legs.

“No, thank you for your work. And call me Joel. Please. If it’s ok with you,” he added, following you.

”Yes, of course, Mr M—- Joel.”

He smiled widely, when you called him that, and trying not to scream at how handsome he was, you opened the door.

“Oh,” you stopped and turned to him again. “I’ll ask them not to assign me to this floor anymore. So you don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“Hey, no, please.” Joel raised his hands and shook his head. “I don’t mind seeing you again. I— I’d love to, actually. And I promise to be clothed next time we meet.”

You laughed with him gleefully and said ‘goodbye’. Walking through the hallway with a giddy smile on your face, you thought that you’d love to see him again, too. Clothed or not.

You told Ms Hewitt about your conversation with Mr Miller and she seemed satisfied with the way you handled the situation.

All day you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel — he had been so charming, so apologetic and kind to you, that the awkwardness of the morning incident faded out of your heart, and all that remained was a bright, exciting feeling of meeting someone wonderful, someone you wished to get to know better.

Yet not only your heart and mind were occupied by your accidental acquaintance. You felt tingling between your legs every time you remembered Joel’s body, a scorching fire igniting your core.

***

When you came home in the evening and went to take a shower to wash the tiring day off, you found yourself fantasising about the guest in room 605. In your mind the rivulets of water turned into Joel’s strong arms, snaking around your body. You closed your eyes and imagined him standing behind you, naked and gorgeous, just like you’d seen him in the morning. The vision was bright and vivid behind your eyelids, and a needy moan escaped your parted lips.

You could finally quench your thirst. Your hand slid from your neck to your chest, down to your belly and when it reached your mound, you gently massaged your wet folds, envisioning that it was Joel touching you, his fingers were tracing your seam and then pushing inside. In your mind his pads began rubbing your hardened clit, he was the one twitching and pulling your pebbled nipples, and your needy whimpers and moans reverberated in the small bathroom. Joel praised you for your lustful serenade, whispering into your ear,

“Yes, sweetheart, need you to be loud for me. Show me how much you’re enjoying it.”

You were imagining his hard cock push and slide between your thighs, slippery and hot, hotter than the water running down your body.

“Ahhh, Joel,” you whined, as an upcoming climax was licking at your body. Edged by your memories of Joel during the day, it was craving a release. You heard Joel’s gruff ‘sweetheart’ in your ears and came hard, shaking on your trembling legs, holding onto the cold tile wall, trying not to collapse.

Before going to bed you thought of the handsome guest again, wishing to see him in your dreams, to talk to him, to touch him, but your mind didn’t give you that chance, and you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Without any effort on your part, you began seeing Joel often. When you two ran into each other in the hallway, he always gave you a warm smile and your heart skipped a beat every time you heard his ‘Mornin’, sweetheart.”

You were good at your job, but when you worked in Joel’s room, you tried to do everything perfectly. You wanted to make his stay as pleasant as possible and dreamed that he would think fondly of you. Every day you left him more shampoo and conditioner bottles than one man could need in a week and put a little flower on top of his fresh towels.

He seemingly felt your care because every day he would leave you a tip. It was nice but you never needed any money from him - the fact that he thought about you was enough.

You had never snooped around guests’ belongings, it was going against your principles, as well as a big no-no in any hotel, but whenever Joel left anything in the open - on the nightstand or on the desk, you meticulously studied ‘the thing’, not touching it but simply looking, eager to get any information about the man.

Once on his desk you saw a flyer that said ‘Small Business Contracting Expo’. He must be a contractor, you thought. You sighed dreamily, standing in the middle of his room with a turned on vacuum in hand. You found his job incredibly sexy.

But not all the discoveries were pleasant. One day you noticed something that upset you. It was a photo, lying on the nightstand - a Polaroid of him with a 6 or 7 year old girl. She was very pretty and had a beautiful smile. His smile.

‘He has a daughter. He’s married,’ you thought and your heart dropped. Of course. How could such a handsome and sweet man be single? That moment you shared… He was just friendly and your head was full of stupid fantasies.

All the rules and regulations forgotten, you plopped on his bed and tears flowed down your cheeks as you were staring at the photo of the happy family man.

The next day you were in the hallway, rummaging your cart for the right cleaning detergent, when you saw Joel exiting his room. He was wearing a leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. At first, your eyes feasted on the sight of his strong back, straining the shiny leather, and you bit your lip, admiring his broad frame, but then you remembered the photo you’d seen on his nightstand - happy Joel with his little daughter. You hastily averted your eyes from the guest — you’d never be a homewrecker.

Not that you had any plans to win his heart but in your mind Joel had been single and it was fine to daydream about him, yet after seeing the Polaroid, your dreams had been crushed by reality like a glass butterfly by a hammer.

Avoiding Joel, you quickly crouched behind your cart, hoping he wouldn’t see you and his warm ‘sweetheart‘ wouldn’t cut your heart like a blade.

You were cleaning off a non-existent spot on your shoe when you heard a soft ’Hey there’ over your head.

“Are you hiding from me?” Joel chuckled as you sprung up on your feet, your heart racing in your chest.

“No,” you lied with a nervous giggle. “I was just looking for —ehm.” You shoved your hand into the cart and retreated the first thing you touched— a roll of toilet paper. “This. For the room.”

“Yeah, ok.” Joel was standing in front of you with his hands shoved in his jeans pocket, and his lopsided smile and a twinkle in his eye told you that he wasn’t buying it.

Then he raised his hands a little, palms towards you.

“I hope I don’t weird you out. You know? Because of… the way we met.”

Your breath hitched when he said that but you tried to keep your cool.

“No. I was really just looking for the paper.”

“Ok,” he mumbled, rubbing his scruffy beard. ”I’m heading out and I need help.”

“Yeah?” You were lost in beautiful eyes for a second and then your gaze slid down to his thick neck, his strong arms, covered by the leather. You locked eyes with him again - beautiful and deep they seemed to stare right into your soul, bringing you comfort and torment at the same time.

“What do you think?”

Fuck! You got completely mesmerized by Joel while he was talking and asked you for help. Help with what?! You had no damn idea.

“I’m sorry, could you say it again? I got lost in thought for a second.”

“Yeah, I see”, Joel smirked, a playful joy glinting in his irises, but kindly repeated himself.

“I need a gift for my daughter. I promised her a souvenir from the trip. Do you know any nice stores nearby? I don’t think she’d like a magnet from the hotel shop.”

“Yes, daughter,” you uttered, your face falling at the reminder of your discovery. Trying to hide sadness in your quiet voice, you asked,

“How old is she?”

“7.”

You thought for a few seconds and smiled when an idea came to you.

“There’s a store on the opposite side of the street. It’s next to a bank, you’ll see it right away. They sell these super cute handmade plushies. They’re adorable!”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up as he nodded.

“Yes! She loves plushies.”

“Oh, and they have all kinds of pretty stationery there too. Kids love that, right?” you asked with a little smile.

Joel took a step closer to you and put his warm palm over your hand, which was resting on the cart.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart. I’m sure I’ll be the world’s best dad when I get home.”

“I’m sure you already are,” you said quietly and dropped your head, your heart heavy.

“Are you ok?” You heard Joel’s lowered voice.

You looked up at him and lied.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

***

The next day you hoped not to see him at all. Your feelings were cruelly scratching at your chest, making your smile fake, your work day longer. Every minute felt like hours, and to make matters worse you started plucking at your own soul. You were single and lonely, saving up for college and dreaming of a career you probably would never achieve. Why would you want something if all you got at the end was disappointment?

Usually cleaning helped you to put your mind and heart at ease, to organize the thoughts swirling in your head like a bunch of stinging bees, but not that day. That day you wanted to dump all your hopes and dreams in one giant pile and set the useless trash on fire.

***

You decided to skip Joel’s room that day and was on your way to the neighbouring one when his head popped out of the door and he called for you.

”I thought I heard your cart. Sorry, can we talk, sweetheart?”

You smiled weakly at the pet name, and walked up to his room.

Joel motioned for you to step inside and you followed him. He was wearing a white Henley and jeans and you couldn’t help but ogle him. So stupid of you to think that a man like that was available. Especially for you.

Involuntarily you took a deep breath of his scent that was filling the room, piney and fresh with something so him. You felt at ease right away. He was almost a stranger and an emptiness inside was swallowing you bit by bit but his presence made you calm and relaxed.

“Look what I got for Sarah.”

Joel grabbed a toy sitting on his pillow - a cute fluffy bunny, wearing blue overalls, and brought it to you.

“I think she’ll like him.”

“I’m sure she will,” you assured him, petting the plushie, before giving it back to him. It was soft and pretty.

“And I bought her a bunch of pens and stickers and stuff. Thank you so much for your advice. Oh, and..”

Joel walked to the drawer and pulled something out.

“This one’s for you. A little thank you gift for your help.”

He was handing you a cute plushie cat, fluffy just like the bunny. “Had to hide it in case you’d come to my room.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said, accepting the present with a smile.

“I wanted to. Thought about you when I saw it.”

“Why?” you giggled.

“I don’t know. It’s beautiful and you’re—.” A slight blush appeared on Joel’s cheeks and he cleared his throat before adding, “Jus’ thought you might like it.”

“I love it.”

You didn’t lie. His gesture was so sweet that you had to take a deep breath, fighting an urge to cry.

“You’re a great father, Joel,” you said with a shaky voice, your eyes set on the toy, and then added,

“And I’m sure a wonderful husband.”

The words escaped your mouth before you could stop them. It seemed that the despair you’d been carrying in your soul made you bolder, more numb. It was easier to talk to him when all your feelings for the man lost a taste of sweet hope, leaving only bitterness.

“Thank you,” Joel uttered, placing the bunny back on the bed, ”but it’s just me and Sarah.”

Your eyes snapped back at him, and you stared at him in surprise. Your chest swelled with hope and joy. That man was single, but now it sounded almost impossible in your head. How could he be single?

Joel was completely oblivious to a whirlwind of thoughts inside your mind and kept talking,

“Well… there’s also my younger brother, Tommy. She’s staying with him now. Frankly, I’m not sure who’s looking after who,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

You laughed, maybe a little too loudly and too happily, but it was hard to keep your emotions contained.

“I'm sure they’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“Yeah. I call them every day and they haven’t burnt the house down yet — so — it’s great.”

You giggled and Joel seemed to notice your sudden mood uplift. His eyes narrowed as he asked,

“What about you? Husband, boyfriend?”

You bit your lower lip, hiding a smile that would be too revealing of your feelings - his interest flattered you greatly.

“No, none of those.”

Joel hummed and unlike you, didn’t hide his smile.

Your eyes connected and something electric appeared between you two. It started hard to breathe and the tingling warmth spread all over your body. Joel’s gaze slid from your eyes to your lips and you took a sharp breath, scared of the strength of your feelings. Panicking, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind,

“Where are you from?”

As if having forgotten where he was, Joel looked around the hotel room and cleared his throat before replying,

“Austin, Texas.”

You felt flustered by the moment you two had shared, your legs felt like they were made of cotton.

Joel noticed you shifting on your feet and offered you to sit down. You chose to take a chair at his desk, as sitting next to him on the bed could be inappropriate.

“Are you on business here?” you asked, trying not to think about the last time you had seen him on that bed.

“That’s right, ma’am,” Joel bowed his head with a smile and the gesture made your heart flutter. “Tommy and I are starting our own company,” he continued. “Contracting. Very small for now. There's a big expo here this week so we thought it’d be useful to meet people, do some networkin’.” Joel pinched the bridge of his nose and gruffed, “if that’s what it’s called. I’m still learning all the business lingo.”

In spite of the visible self-doubt, Joel’s eyes were glinting with excitement when he was talking about their plans. Then he leaned forward, placed his elbows on the knees, and asked,

“What about you? Do you like working here?”

His soft baritone was caressing your ears and sending heat to your core. His piercing eyes set on you weren’t helping either so you took a deep breath to calm down and replied,

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m saving up to go to a law school. Next year I hope.”

As you were sharing your plans with him, Joel was listening to you attentively, nodding and asking questions from time to time. It was easy to open up to him and the conversation flowed smoothly until you heard someone talk in the hallway and remembered that you were supposed to be working.

“Oh my God, Joel, I’m sorry I need to go.”

You got up, pressing the plushie cat close to your chest, and headed to the door.

“I hope you're not gonna get in trouble because of me,” Joel said, following you. “Some old man lured you into his room…”

You opened the door and walked to your cart, giggling, and then turned to him, smiling widely.

“You’re not old. And you can lure me anywhere anytime.”

Joel scratched his bearded chin, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

“Goodbye, Joel,” you purred, and feeling bold, gave him a playful wink.

“See you, sweetheart.”

You felt his eyes on your back and - hopefully - on your ass as you sauntered to another room as gracefully as you could, pushing your cart forward with the cutest plushie cat, sitting on top of it.

***

It was difficult for you to fall asleep that night. You were tossing and turning, hugging the kitty Joel had gifted you and thinking about his smile, his eyes, his hands, his body, his voice. You kept replaying your conversation over and over, your face aching after smiling so much. You were used to the constant tingling between your legs when Joel was on your mind and it wasn’t surprising - he was a handsome man, big and strong, but what stole your sleep that night was the feeling in your stomach. Something warm filled your belly, it was pushing up against your lungs, stealing your breaths away again and again. The sensation was so encapsulating, so pleasant and exciting that you had no doubt what it was. You fell in love with Joel. You fell in love with a guest.

***

The next day you were assigned to a different floor, but your head was full of Joel Miller. You were yawning because of the lack of sleep the previous night and yearning for the culprit of your insomnia. You wondered if he thought about you, too, if he liked you, if he wanted you. An idea to visit him popped into your head but you brushed it off, not wanting to impose and still feeling a little insecure. What if the spark you felt was one sided? What if it all was only in your head?

You were scheduled to work on the sixth floor the next day, so you were looking forward to seeing him soon.

That day everything went wrong. You overslept, probably because you managed to close your eyes only at 4 am, love-induced insomnia to blame again. On top of that, the traffic was horrible, so you missed the morning briefing.

Ms Hewitt looked at you sternly when you came to her office to get your assignments for the day but your genuine apologies and sorry puppy eyes softened her and she gave you all the info you needed.

“Oh, and it’s final cleaning for the 605.”

“What?!” Your heart plummeted into your stomach when you heard the number of the room. Joel’s room.

Trying but absolutely failing to hide your shock you squeaked,

“He—they‘re checking out today?”

“Yes,” Ms Hewitt's puzzled expression told you that the panic in your eyes was evident. She put her hand on your shoulder and asked,

“Are you ok, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart

Sweetheart

Sweetheart

The pet name was ringing in your ears but it sounded like Joel. A scary thought flashed in your mind, ‘Will I ever hear it again?‘

”What time is it?” You exclaimed.

Ms Hewitt’s brows shot up, before she glanced at her watch.

“Ehm. 10:45.”

“Oh god! I need to go— to clean!”

You excused yourself hurriedly and ran to the elevator.

***

A minute later you were at room 605, knocking loudly. No reply. You didn’t stop, remembering Joel’s hearing problem, but there were no heavy footsteps of the man you so foolishly fell in love with. The realization pierced your heart - he was gone, he was gone forever.

Breaking all the rules you opened the door with your card and went inside.

“Joel!” you called, desperation loud in your voice.

He didn’t reply.

It felt empty, lifeless. Just another standard hotel room. The biggest sign that he had even been there was his scent, still lingering in the air.

You took a deep breath of him and tears welled up in your eyes. Your loud sob shuttered the deafening silence.

“Joel,” you mewled helplessly.

There was something on the bed. You walked there and saw a note with your name on it. You lifted it with shaky hands and started reading.

Sweetheart, I hope you’ll get this note. I couldn’t find you but I’d like to thank you for everything. Meeting you was a highlight of my trip. I hope all your dreams come true. And sorry again for the way we met. Joel

On the bed there was also a big tip and a bouquet of red roses.

Your chest swelled with a myriad of different emotions - it was nice of him to leave you a message and the flowers but it was a goodbye. A farewell forever.

A tear fell on the note in your hands. You wiped it off and smudged the writing, leaving a blue streak.

He wrote it not so long ago. What if you could still catch him?

You dropped the note and ran out of the room. Pressing the elevator button several times with a rushed hand, wiping your tears with the other, you were praying to all the gods to let you see him at least one more time, to hear his husky voice, to feel his warm eyes on you.

Joel—Joel—Joel

His name was booming in your head and your heart on your way downstairs.

On the first floor, not wanting to alarm the guests and other personnel, you walked fast to the reception.

“Birtie, hi, could you tell me when Joel Miller checked out? Please,” you asked the receptionist who furrowed his brows at you, having noticed your teary eyes.

You didn’t care about his concern, your gaze was glued to the entrance. Through the glass door you saw him.

Joel was standing outside, his back to you, his suitcase at his feet.

“Is everything ok?” You barely heard Bertie, your heart was making somersaults in your chest. He’s still here!

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but a wide smile wouldn’t leave your face as you hurried to your most precious guest.

***

“Joel?” you called softly, standing behind him.

He turned to you and his face lit up. All of a sudden he hugged you and you stopped breathing altogether. Feeling his body so close to yours made your head spin. To your dismay, Joel pulled away in a moment and took a step back.

“Fuck. Sorry. I thought you weren’t here today. But you’re and … I’m glad to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” you smiled at Joel, still feeling his strong arms around you. “I’ve just found your note and came here to say goodbye and— .”

“Yes?” Joel’s puppy eyes were darting between yours as you paused with your mouth open.

What now? Are you going to shake his hand and let him disappear from your life? The thought made you feel sick.

“There’s a problem. With your room. I’m afraid you have to go back up with me.”

Joel furrowed his brows, looking confused.

“What problem?”

Yeah, what problem?

“Ehm.. Can we talk in your room, sir?”

You added ’sir‘ to sound more formal so he wouldn’t think that you were making shit up.

“Of course. No problem. I have lots of time.”

Joel grabbed his suitcase and followed you inside.

You felt Bertie’s eyes on you as you were walking past the reception with the guest who had already checked out but you didn’t care.

When you stepped into the elevator, Joel turned to you.

“What’s wrong with the room, sweetheart? Tell me you didn’t get in trouble because of my note or the roses.”

“Oh, no,” you replied, nervously fumbling with your sleeve. “It’s— ehm—-it’s the hangers. Some are missing.”

“The hangers?”

“Yep.” You averted your eyes, feeling your heart in your throat. You could feel Joel’s confusion. Then you heard a low chuckle. Was he laughing at your stupid lie? You wouldn’t blame him.

“I didn’t steal the hangers, sweetheart,” he snickered, as you were walking to the room. “I promise.”

You felt bad about lying, but when you glanced at his smiley face, you couldn’t help but giggle along. Your excuse was ridiculous, but it was the first thing that came to your mind and, what was more important, it worked.

You opened the door and Joel and you entered the room. The room where you met. The room where you saw more than you were supposed to. Felt more than you were supposed to.

Joel left the suitcase at the door, followed you to the living area and stopped a few steps from you, as always giving you personal space. You didn’t want that space now. A few minutes ago you’d thought that you had lost him forever so you took a step closer to him, basking in the warmth his smile was giving you, his honey eyes mesmerizing you.

Joel followed your lead and inched closer, too. Now one tiny step was separating you two. He lowered his voice and asked, almost whispering,

“It’s not about the hangers, is it?”

You looked down at your hands and shook your head, nerves, excitement, love churning your stomach. You opened your mouth to talk but didn’t find any words. Why have you brought him here? What do you want? What do you want?

The answer to that question came like a flash. You were seeing it clearly then, fears and worries pushed into the corners of your mind, only your desire in the spotlight.

You took the final step towards him and pressed your lips to his. It was a soft little peck, timid and fleeting, but the feel of him flush to you, his warm lips, his heady scent drew you to kiss him again. Joel didn’t pull back but instead put his hands on your waist. His touch was gentle, careful but it set your whole body on fire. Feeling overwhelmed you broke the kiss and looked into his eyes.

You had just kissed Joel Miller. Your brain switched off completely as you were ogling his handsome face up close, his hot breath fanning your lips, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes.

“I wanted to say ‘goodbye’,” you lied, looking into Joel’s darkening eyes. You’d never want to say goodbye to that man.

“Do all the guests get a goodbye like that from you?” he asked as his lips curled into a smile.

You dropped your head and whispered ‘no’. Joel’s chest rose and fell heavily and his sigh tickled your nose.

“Am I special then?”

A shiver ran down your spine when you heard his question. You looked him right in the eye and your voice didn’t waver when you replied,

“Yes.”

Your boldness seemed to touch him deeply, his face lit up as if he’d just gotten the best compliment in his life. His reaction warmed your heart but your eyes still were puffy from the tears, the pain was still fresh in your chest.

“I was afraid you’d left forever. Thank you for the note but, frankly, I hoped you’d leave your number,” you said, sadness coating your words. Joel sighed again and his puppy eyes made your heart flutter.

“I did. In the first note. But then I threw it in the trash.”

“Why?” you mumbled, blinking at him in confusion.

Joel inched closer and took your face into his big warm hands.

“Because you’re young and beautiful,” he whispered, leaning down, and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

“You have your whole life ahead of you.” – he kissed the corner of your eye,

“I’m a single dad.” — He kissed your nose, your other cheek, until his lips grazed yours for a fleeting moment.

Then he pulled away, his eyes glossy.

“And I live in another state. I didn’t have a right to leave you my number.”

Joel was still holding your face and it was heavenly but his words squeezed your throat with a tight grip.

“Why are you kissing me then?” you murmured, searching for the answer in his sparkling eyes.

Joel sighed again and croaked,

“’cause I can’t help it.”

That was when he kissed you. If your first kiss was like a soft breeze, a gentle caress to the skin, his was like an ocean, heady, overwhelming, you both drowning in it in seconds.

Joel’s arms bound you to him, your bodies flush against each other, and when he licked into your mouth, the taste of him made you dizzy, the ache between your legs grew and you bucked your hips against his thigh.

Joel growled, feeling your need, and your wet arousal leaked into your panties when you heard that he craved you, too. You broke the kiss and panted,

“When’s your flight?”

“In six hours.” Joel’s blown out eyes were darting between yours as he offered, “Can I spend this time with you?”

“Yes,” you replied immediately, having never been more sure about anything in your life.

Joel was beaming at you, his grin wide and happy. His hands were running up and down your arms as he mused,

“We can have a walk. Or we can stay here. What do you prefer?”

You dropped your head, contemplating your answer, and in a second you knew exactly what you wanted to do. You had about three hours to spend with the man of your dreams and you decided to use them to the fullest. There was no time to be shy.

“Can we stay here?” you asked quietly and Joel eagerly nodded.

“Yeah, sure, sweetheart. I’ll call the reception, see if I can have this room for today. Ok?”

“Yes! If it’s not booked, it shouldn't be a problem.”

Your belly was full of butterflies, your core was on fire, and it was hard to think straight, but suddenly you remembered that you had work to do.

While Joel was talking to Bertie, you pulled your phone out of your dress pocket and quickly texted Max.

Need to leave. Cover for me pls. I’ll explain later.

She sent you back an ‘ok’ just as Joel hung up.

Judging by his wide smile, the room was available.

“We can stay here.” He took your hand in his and you whispered a breathy ‘good’, already under the spell of his dark eyes.

He pulled you into his embrace and kissed you. His lips were moving gently against yours until they travelled lower to your neck, his moustache and beard deliciously tickling your skin. The sensation was intoxicating, your whole body was buzzing, craving him, your heart was beating fast.

You couldn’t wait any longer, your poor pussy was crying and begging for him, so you took his hand and led him to the bed.

“Thank you for the roses,” you purred, looking at the flowers, their crimson colour a bright contrast to the whiteness of the sheets. “They’re very beautiful.”

Joel barely glanced at the bouquet, he had eyes only for you.

“You’re beautiful, baby.”

***

A few kisses later you were making out, sitting on the edge of the bed, you’re on Joel’s lap, straddling his thighs, your arms wrapped around his thick neck. Joel’s hand was gently cupping the back of your head, the other, pressed to your lower back, keeping you close. You were softly whimpering into his mouth, your tongues tangled in a passionate dance.

“Ahh, Joel,” you moaned and began grinding your burning pussy against the big bulge in his jeans. Timidly at first, but the growing desire gave you courage to take what you wanted.

“I’m here,” Joel breathed out. “My needy girl.”

He broke the kiss and dropped his head down to watch your hips move, the hem of your uniform dress inching higher, exposing more and more of your tights-covered thighs.

“I need you too, sweetheart,” he confessed but then his hands left your hips and flew up to your face. He searched for your eyes and asked,

“You sure you want this? We can just kiss, baby. You don’t have to—“

“No, please, I want you,” you panted, surprising even yourself. You weren’t hiding your feelings anymore, you were begging him to give you more, to put down the fire burning you on the inside.

“Ok,” he nodded, his lips in a lopsided smile. “I needed to make sure.”

“I’ve never done this,” you mumbled, nervously chewing your lower lip. “Never been with a guest— like this.”

Joel brought his hand to your mouth and glided his thumb over your lip to stop you from hurting yourself.

“Me too, sweetheart. Never got a hotel room to —. He paused and you noticed a light blush painting his cheeks. Joel ran his hands down your neck and traced your neckline with his knuckles, lightly grazing your skin and sending chills down your spine.

“Can I undress you, baby?”

His voice was low and raspy, gorgeous and alluring, and you swallowed a moan when you heard his question. You replied with a sultry ‘yes’ and got off his lap.

Joel’s hands were gentle and slow. Standing behind you he unzipped your dress on your back, pulled it off your shoulders and helped you to step out of it. He slid the tights down and off your legs.

His fingers were gliding up and down your arms, his breath fanning your shoulder before he pressed his lips to the crease of your neck. You moaned, melting in his arms, turning into a puddle when his hand slid down your neck to your chest. You looked down and just then remembered what you were wearing that day- a simple flowery bra and unmatching black panties.

“Shit—,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up. “Wish I was wearing something sexy. Lace or something…”

Your voice was small, your head downcast. Joel walked around you, took your chin between his fingers and gently lifted your face. A pair of dark-as-night eyes met you, there was a bright fire in them, a desire that echoed deeply in your own body.

”I don’t want ‘lacy’. I want you.”

He cupped your covered breast with his big hand and began kneading it. Even through the padding the sensation sent lightning of pleasure to your core, and you moaned shamelessly watching him caress your other breast.

Then his hands snaked behind you.

“Can I…?”

You uttered a needy ‘yeah’ and Joel unclasped your bra, letting it fall on the floor.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, looking at your naked breasts, and you smiled, taking it as a compliment. ”You’re gorgeous.”

You were standing in front of him topless while he was still dressed. It was turning you on but you couldn’t wait to see him naked. Again.

“My turn,” you purred and grabbed the hem of his tee. You took it off him and ogled his golden skin, his toned shoulders, his muscular arms and a happy train on his soft tummy. Your hand impatiently flew to feel his broad chest, but having dreamed of it all week, you feared that he would disappear like a mirage.

“Joel,” you whispered his name like a spell, binding him to you at that moment, making it real in your mind, you and him there, exposed to each other, needing each other desperately, ready to dive into something beautiful and exciting.

You pressed your thighs together and a lustful shiver ran down your spine.

“C’mere, baby.” Joel probably thought that you were cold and caged you in his warm embrace. Your nose found its home in the crease of his neck, your heart close to his heart, your arms around his torso. It felt like his body was meant for you- to bring you comfort, to warm you up, to caress you, to make love to you.

You kissed his collar bone and Joel pressed his lips to the top of your head.

You two stood like that for a few moments, simply relishing the feel of each other's skin, sharing warmth of your bodies.

Then Joel’s hand slowly slithered down your back, covering your skin with a new set of goosebumps, and cupped your asscheek. He squeezed it gently and you moaned.

“Get on the bed, baby.”

He knew what you wanted, there was no uncertainty in his words, it sounded like a command, and you were happy to follow it.

You put the roses on the nightstand and climbed onto the soft bed. Your back against the pillows, you were watching Joel discard his jeans.

When he was only in his boxers, your jaw involuntarily dropped at the sight of his huge bulge. Apparently your memory wasn’t kind to him, because in your mind his cock was smaller. In reality he was hung like a god, and as handsome as one. A part of you got scared that he would split you in two, but the heady mixture of desire and love erased any doubts in your heart and head. You desperately needed him. Starved to have him inside you.

Joel lay down next to you and dived into your arms right away. As you were kissing, his hands were exploring your body, caressing your soft skin, gently squeezing your breasts, twitching your hardened nipples. You were hungrily feeling him too— with a soft drag of your nails down his arms and his back, with your fingers running through his silky curls. Your legs intertwined, you began rubbing your covered pussy against his hairy thigh.

“Joel— please,” you begged and with a fast hand he pulled your panties down. Now he could see all of you and you’d have probably got shy, but Joel’s eyes full of hunger and need, gave you the courage to throw your legs apart, to invite him to the most sacred place of your body.

”Jesus, sweetheart, you’re so wet,” Joel growled as his fingers were tracing your slicked up seam before pushing inside. With the pads of his two digits he drew a circle around your clit and you almost came, shuddering against the crispy sheets and his body. Joel noticed your reaction.

“Been needing it for some time, baby?”

“Yes, Joel, since the moment I saw you. Here, on this bed.”

You paused, scared that the memory of the incident would embarrass him, but Joel smirked, brought his lips to your ear and whispered,

“Did you like what you saw?”

You opened your mouth to reply but Joel made you gasp, when he slowly inserted his middle finger into your soft hole. He began thrusting it in and out, and you quickly turned into a moaning, dripping mess.

“I take it as a ’yes’”. His voice was strained with lust as his lips brushed against your cheek. “Did you think about me after that? About my hard cock?”

His soft husky voice, his words, his finger caressing something delicious inside you - everything at once was overwhelming and your eyes fluttered shut, your mind begging for any respite.

“Yeah, Joel, so— so much,” you slurred, unable to speak clearly.

“That’s my girl.”

Joel lightly nibbled on your earlobe, a satisfied growl rumbling in his chest, and then added another finger to penetrate your sopping heat.

Your moan was loud and shameless and Joel echoed you with a groan. His lips drew a path from your cheek, down your neck and soon he kissed your pebbled nipple. Your hand flew to his curls, legs opened up wider and your eyes rolled back, when he began sucking on your bud, while his fingers were opening your cunt up for his thick cock. Joel hummed at the taste of your skin and his low grunts made your pussy drool more around his digits. He parted from your tit and asked, breathing heavily with arousal,

“Tell me what you wanted me to do to you. When you thought about me, baby.”

“Wanted you —to fuck me.”

“Oh, baby. I thought about you, too. Fuck.. non stop, all these days.”

“Really?“ You panted, searching for his eyes.

“Yes, sweetheart. I thought— what if you’d stayed— would you wanna watch me?”

You bit your lip and purred,

“I would.”

Joel licked his smiling lips, his eyes blown out, and gave you a wink before saying,

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”.

Carefully, so as not to hurt your pussy with his fingers, he sat up and kneeled next to you on the bed, then using his free hand, the hand that wasn’t fucking you, he pulled down his boxers and let his stiff cock spring free. It was as gorgeous as you remembered, thick and long, curved up at the top, glistening in the sunlight, leaking rivers of precum.

“Now you can watch, sweetheart,” Joel groaned, wrapping his palm around his member with a sigh and beginning to jerk it.

You were watching him fuck his fist, while his fingers were fingering your wet pussy, until your plea interrupted your moaning.

“Can I do it? Please.”

“Yes, baby.”

Joel let go off his cock and your little hand immediately replaced his. You could barely circle your fingers around his girth but you applied all of yourself and began pumping his fat cock. Joel’s grunts were making your head spin. His pleasure was giving yours an ecstatic, exquisite, divine taste. You were revelling in the feeling of bringing ecstasy to him, your hand pulling up and down the soft skin stretched over the hot steel of his cock.

“Joel…what else did you think about? Tell me,” you moaned, tilting your hips up to give him more access to your crying pussy. His fingers were curling inside you and an upcoming climax overshadowed your shiness.

”Everyday I dreamed about pulling you close and kissing you, baby.”

“Just kissing?” you teased.

“Hngg, ‘course not. Wanted to tear your cute dress off, throw you on the bed and lick your little pussy.”

“Oh my god, Joel.”

“Then fuck you on every surface in here.”

His confession drew a needy whine out of your mouth and you began squeezing his fingers with your pulsating cunt. A hard orgasm was shaking your body, your pussy bursting with pleasure and wetness against his hand. You stopped jerking Joel off and just held his cock in your hand, too focused on the waves of euphoria rippling through you.

“Yeah, like that, baby,” Joel growled, watching you explode on his fingers. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. So sweet and beautiful. I’d give anything to bounce you on my cock, to kiss your pretty tits.”

His mouth latched onto your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, his fingers were still massaging your g-spot, prolonging your orgasm.

When you relaxed and your hand fell off his cock onto the bed, Joel carefully pulled his drenched fingers out of your stretched hole.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he whispered, taking you in his arms, and kissed you again, slowly and sensually, letting you rest in the warm ocean of his caress.

You were in heaven. Basking in the afterglow of the climax, relishing Joel’s embrace and his soft kisses, you couldn’t be happier.

He pulled away and looked into your hazy eyes.

“You ok?”

“Yes,” you murmured with a smile, tracing his handsome features with your gaze, mesmerized by him once again. Then you averted your eyes and bit your lip.

“What is it, baby?” Joel furrowed his brows and you heard a trace of worry in his tone.

You cupped his cheek and he melted against your touch.

“I want more, Joel. I need you inside me.”

Joel’s body shuddered at your words, his cock twitched, and you had no doubt that he desperately wanted it, too.

“I’ll give you anything you want, sweetheart. But— I don’t have condoms. Do you?”

You shook your head and hid your face in his neck, too shy to look at him, as you whispered.

“Can we do it without them? I’m clean, I promise.”

Joel stroked your head and kissed your temple.

“Me too, I haven’t had—, " he cleared his throat and continued, “had anyone for a while.”

“Ok.” You smiled, raising your eyes at him.

“Ok,” he echoed you.

***

You sat up and carefully straddled Joel’s thick thighs. His cock was engorged, crying and ready for you. But were you ready for it?

You swallowed loudly, fear noticeable in your expression, and Joel rubbed your thighs with his palms.

“We’ll go slowly, sweetheart. And.. if you’re not ready — I can kiss your pretty pussy instead.”

His words made you gush more, your head spun at the image of Joel’s lips on your cunt, but you shook your head with determination.

“No. I want you— want you to bounce me on your cock,” you quoted him with a timid smile and Joel half chuckled-half groaned. His cock twitched and you saw a drop of prefuck juice bead on the reddish slit.

“Baby, if you keep talking like this… I’m afraid I’ll come too soon.“

You playfully bit your lower lip, his words giving you much needed confidence. You felt desired, sexy and beautiful.

You got up on your knees and moved forward until you were hovering over his cock. It brushed against your folds and you impatiently gripped it at the base and glided his tip over your seam, before teasing your puffy clit with the bulbous head.

Your lustful whimper rang loudly in the room, fusing with Joel’s moan. Your palm planted on his hairy chest, you slid his tip down, and when it notched the source of your wetness, you began lowering your hips, slowly sinking on it. The sounds you both were making seemed like an epitome of pleasure, a beautiful melody of two bodies becoming one. They weren’t lewd, they were pure and sincere.

You seemed to lose an ability to talk or think, your whole being was overtaken by the feeling of Joel filling your core. The stretch sent shivers down your spine, but the dull pain got overshadowed by the bliss in your body. Joel’s palm was gripping your hip when the other slid up from your lower belly to your sternum, then to your chest until he surely could feel your heart, beating loudly in unison with your pussy, that was hungrily swallowing his length.

”Oh, baby, oh, yes,” was everything that Joel could muster when you took all of him. His eyes were dark with desire but the affection and warmth within them pulled you to him. You leaned down, lay down on his chest, uniting your heartbeats, and your lips met. Your eager tongues tangled with passion, your fingers ran through his curls, damp with sweat, his palms were exploring your body.

When Joel squeezed your asscheeks and gently lifted your hips up, you mewled, realizing what he wanted. Making out with him, you began slowly moving your hips up and down, your walls massaging his shaft, your mouth drinking his growls, that inevitably turned into moans. You smiled against his lips, happy to be giving Joel so much pleasure, but also getting an immense amount of it as well.

No one had ever made you feel so sexy in your life and the elation in your heart gave you the courage to break the kiss and sit up proudly on Joel’s cock, letting him see all of you again. With his mouth slightly open Joel looked completely drunk on you. His gaze slid over your body and he panted,

”Look at you, baby. Wish you could ride me like that every day till I die.”

You smiled and took his hand, that was kneading your breast, and kissed his palm. The next moment Joel sat up and you moaned at the position shift, feeling his cock even deeper inside you like that. He cupped the back of your head, and holding you close, kissed you hard. Your legs wrapped around his hips and you stilled, pierced by his member, melting in his arms.

His cock was thumping in your heat, your pussy was crying more and more around it, begging for a release.

“Joel,” you whined and, as if having read your mind, he grabbed your asscheeks in his strong hands and started lifting you up and down on his cock, moving your body easily, bringing you both closer to your peaks.

Your sensitive clit was deliciously rubbing against Joel’s hairy lower belly and soon you felt heat rise in your tightening core and your pussy started fluttering around Joel’s length.

“I’m coming,” you mewled and dug your nails into his broad shoulders, grounding yourself to him.

“That’s my girl,” Joel praised you, his eyes focused on your face, and then groaned through his teeth,

“Gonna come, too. Where d’you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please,” you begged, still trembling with the second orgasm.

“Yeah?” Joel grunted, “wanna be full of my hot cum?”

“Yes—yes—yes,” you chanted, bouncing on his cock, prolonging your pleasure.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I want it, too. Want your pussy wet with me for days.”

Pushed over the edge by the image and your walls gripping his member, Joel roared and began filling you up. You greedily milked him of every drop, pressing your body to his, burying your nose in his neck, relishing the scent of his heated skin.

Joel was jerking with every squirt of his load, holding you so tight that it was hard to breathe, but you’d have rather suffocated than left his arms at that moment.

***

“Thank you,” Joel murmured as you two were lying covered by the white sheets, face to face. Your legs were tangled, arms wrapped around each other, your nose against his neck. When you heard his soft voice, you raised your eyes at him.

“What for?”

“For being here with me. For letting me kiss you, touch you…”

His fingers glided over your arm and your skin erupted with goosebumps.

“You’ve done more than touching, sir,” you smirked and he groaned, pushing you over and pinning you to the bed with his body.

”Keep calling me ‘sir‘ and I’ll do it all again.“

“Promise?” you purred, feeling helpless, caged between the bed and his broad torso and your clit twitched again.

“Bad girl.”

Joel’s words reignited fire in your belly, but you felt like behind the playful banter there was something else that he wanted to tell you.

You cupped his cheek, your eyes darting between his, and whispered,

“I’m happy to be here with you.”

Joel sighed with a smile and leaned in to kiss you gently. Then he pressed his forehead to yours, his hot breath kissing your lips.

“What I wrote— in the note. You being the highlight of my trip— I meant it.”

A happy smile shone on your face, when you heard sincerity in his voice, warmth spreading inside your body. Joel lay down next to you and continued, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all these days— wanted you the moment I saw you but that’s not all. You’ve been so kind to me. So sweet. I haven’t felt cared for like that in a long time.”

“I was simply doing my job,” you uttered, drawing patterns on his hairy forearm.

“No, I mean, yes, but — every time I thought of you, I felt something — “

He paused, searching for words. You felt emotions in his voice and you took his hand and pressed it to your lips before whispering,

“I know, Joel. I felt it too.”

”Oh, baby,” Joel pulled you into his chest and you pecked his lips before your eyes locked and you said everything to each other without words, your hearts speaking for you. His warm gaze glossed over and your vision got blurry with your own feelings.

“Joel,” you mumbled, opening your eyes. You woke up from a wonderful dream, where you fell for a handsome guest, who later kissed you, made you see the brightest stars with his lips, his fingers and his cock, and then you fell asleep, cuddling with him.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a dream.

“I’m right here,“ you heard a soft baritone of the man next to you. You wrapped your arms around Joel and he gave you a gentle kiss.

“Had a bad dream, sweetheart?”

A tsunami of emotions flooded your heart - excitement, affection, joy stole your breath away. He was really there. He was really yours. At least for now.

“No,” you croaked, sleep heavy in your voice. “It was the best dream.” You crashed your lips against his, hunger for his caress waking up with you, but a sudden memory flashed in your mind - you had been given just a few hours to be together.

“How long have I been asleep?” Panic was loud in your voice.

“About an hour.”

“Oh no! You should’ve woken me up. We don’t have much time.”

Joel hugged you tightly.

“Shh, we have time, baby. You were sleeping like a little kitten next to me. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to stare at you like a creep.” You two laughed, your nerves seeping you out of your heart.

Joel kissed you and then began leaving open-mouth kisses over your neck, your exposed breasts and a few moments later you were dripping your juices onto the white sheets while he was licking and sucking on your sensitive nipples.

“Sweet thing,” he mumbled against your tits. “Can I have a real treat now?”

“What?” you slurred, already drunk on him.

“You pussy, baby, can I taste her?”

“Oh,” you moaned and nodded with a timid smile.

You had never been eaten out that well before. Joel’s hands were pinning your hips to the bed, holding you open for him as he was feasting on your blooming flower, his hot tongue lapping at your folds and your clit tirelessly. His mouth was gentle but he gave you enough pressure to make your pussy pulsate and explode on his tongue in a few minutes.

You were practically crying with euphoria when he climbed up the bed to let you lick your own nectar off his lips.

***

The rest of the time together you spent naked in bed, talking, laughing, eating the food you ordered to the room, kissing and cuddling. At the back of your mind you kept thinking about how lucky you were - to have met someone you clicked with spiritually, sexually and emotionally. There was no doubt in your heart that Joel was your person and he looked at you like you were his.

Inevitably the precious time ran out and Joel needed to leave for the airport. It took everything from you not to burst into tears, when you imagined saying ’goodbye’ to him, but the day you had shared, the pleasure he had given you, eased the pain in your soul.

When you two were talking and sharing your past, Joel kept mentioning your future. Your future together. He promised to introduce you to Tommy and Sarah, to take you to his favourite places in Austin, and in your dreams you saw yourself forever by his side, getting to hug and kiss him every single day for the rest of your life. It seemed like the most amazing fairy tale, and although you knew by now that life was far from perfect, his enamoured eyes, his gentle hands, his kind words gave you strength to let him go, because your heart was full of hope.

***

You covertly changed out of your uniform in the staff room and sneaked out of the hotel to take Joel to the airport in your car.

When you two arrived, you couldn’t hold your tears back anymore. Joel gently wiped them away with his thumbs but his own eyes were glossy and reddish.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land, sweetheart,” he promised, holding your face in his warm hands, then wrapped his arms around you and kissed you like no one else before, passionately, sensually, claiming you as his, and you stored the memory of his body against yours deep inside your mind.

Many phone and video calls later

The next time you saw Joel again, not on the screen of your phone or your laptop, not in your dreams or fantasies, but in person, in real life, was at the airport as well. Now in Texas.

You spotted Joel first. His honey eyes were searching for you in a sea of people, his expression serious and concentrated. You wanted to run and kiss that deep crease between his brows, wanted to drop your bags and scream with happiness, but then you saw what he had in his hands and your eyes welled up with tears.

He was holding a sign with your name on it. It was sweet, but what made you cry were glittery hearts and flowers, decorating it. Joel definitely wasn’t the type to use glitter and draw pretty hearts and you realized right away. that they were made by Sarah’s hand.

***

Joel introduced you to Sarah a week after he’d flown back to Austin. You fell in love with his daughter right away, she was a lively and funny girl, excellent at trolling her dad, the talent of hers which always made you giggle.

Quickly she became a usual participant of your daily video calls with Joel. You never minded it, falling deeper in love with Joel, when you witnessed what a great father he was. Sarah often told you about her day, asked about yours, and when she shared only with you who she liked at school, you were touched by her trust. Soon you three had breakfasts and dinners together, Joel and Sarah joining you on the screen of your laptop, and it felt like you were a little family.

At night when Sarah was asleep in her bedroom, Joel and you had other types of calls. You quickly realized that the man was a menace. He loved making you needy and desperate with his husky voice whispering filth into your ear. He would tell you in great detail how exactly he would fuck you if he was there in your bedroom. Like a good girl you would be spread for him on the bed, your legs open widely, your fingers thrusting in and out of your sopping hole. You whispered his name again and again, your hazy eyes glued to the screen, where Joel was stroking himself, deep in the pit of desire just like you.

You lost count how many times he came watching you fuck yourself, how many times you unraveled in front of his hungry eyes. It was enough for you two. For the time being.

But your feelings grew and soon you felt like you were suffocating without being able to touch him, kiss him. Joel tentatively asked if you wanted to visit them in Austin and you happily agreed. One night you two were planning your trip, when Joel admitted. that he didn’t want you just to visit.

“Sweetheart... what if we lived together?”

“It would be amazing,” you sighed, smiling at him through your phone screen.

“So why don’t we?”

You were staring at him in disbelief for a few seconds, your heart in your throat, before you asked,

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Joel replied and added, ”I love you, baby.”

His watery eyes told you that he wasn’t joking.

“I love you, too, Joel. So much,” you mumbled, already sobbing with happy tears.

***

It took you a month to quit your housekeeping job, sell the things you didn’t need anymore, pack the stuff you did, say ‘goodbye’ to your friends and family and take a big step towards your future. Future with the man you loved, the man who loved you.

***

Not being able to contain your excitement any longer, you dropped your baggage and ran to Joel, waiting for you at the airport. You were quietly squealing, trying not to alert the people around you, but when Joel noticed you and his face lit up with a widest grin, you finally screamed. He opened his big arms to you and you dived into his warm embrace. Your lips met in a fiery, long awaited kiss, and you didn’t care that people were staring at you two, making out like two horny teenagers, holding each other close. Joel was yours and you were his. Once your guest, now he was your home.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback means the world💞

MASTERLIST

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People who were interested in the wip posts (no pressure to read, bbs) @604to647 @tateypots @thundermartini @sawymredfox

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version toji version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[oceantornadoo]

protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still my wife.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

----

idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling

gn reader

When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.

You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.

If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.

So you do. The latter, that is.

Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.

You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.

But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…

In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.

He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody. 

Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.

He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.

You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.

And then he comes crawling back…

Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away. 

He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.

Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.

“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”

You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all. 

“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”

“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.

You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.

But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”

“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”

He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.

You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.

“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”

He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.

“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”

He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.

The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.

His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…

Nothing. There’s a large exhale.

“I can’t do it…” 

You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.

He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.

This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.

“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”

The pity’s for you.

“This is what having my heart feels like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[eclipixels]

Casual

Character: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage

Content: "Casual relationship with the boys but it’s just you getting ahead of yourself and planning to talk to them about getting serious until you saw a headline about 'your' man going official with another lady." - @captainshindo

     Yoichi Isagi

      You weren’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

      Isagi Yoichi was never officially yours, not in the way that mattered. Sure, he kissed you like you were the only person in the world, pulled you into his arms like he had no intention of letting go, and whispered things at night that made your stomach flip. But there had never been a label.

      It was fine. You were fine. Until you saw the headline.

      "Blue Lock’s Rising Star Isagi Yoichi Goes Official With Mystery Beauty!"

      Your stomach dropped. The article featured blurry paparazzi shots of him with some woman—her face obscured, but her hand was clearly clutching his wrist. You read every line, dissecting every word like it held the key to your survival of your heart. The journalist speculated, fans freaked out, and suddenly, it felt like the whole world was deciding where Isagi’s heart belonged.

      Except, no one had asked you.

      You slammed your phone down, anger bubbling up, not just at him but at yourself. You had been ready, so ready, to have the talk, to define what this thing between you really was. But now? What was the point?

      When Isagi came home later, he immediately noticed something was off.

      "You’re mad at me."

      "Really?” You scoffed.

      "Yeah, you are." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is this about the article? I have no idea who that woman even was, I’m pretty sure it was a fan."

      Your eyes snapped to him. He looked guilty. Good.

      "Why would I care?" you asked, voice tight. "We’re not dating, right? I mean, not really. So why should I care?"

      His heart cracked when you said that. Did this mean nothing to you? Truth be told, he was planning to talk to you soon about your relationship. He wanted to be yours officially, now he feels dumb for not doing it sooner. Because now, his baby’s heart was broken and he didn’t know how to fix it.

      "Come on, you know that’s not—"

      "Not what? Not true?"

      And it wasn’t like he could just announce to the world that he was taken. Right? But still, he could’ve done something. At least that's what you told yourself.

      Isagi sat in bed that night, phone in hand, searching for ways to subtly (or not-so-subtly) let people know he was taken.

      What he found was… questionable.

      “Give her your hoodie, post her on your story, make it obvious.”

      Okay. Normal enough. What else, though? He wanted to do something more than that.

      “Hickeys are the ultimate mark of possession.”

      His face burned. He thought about it for half a second, then realized they were temporary. That wasn’t enough.

      And then he saw it.

      A tattoo. Permanent. Undeniable. Forever.

      It was impulsive, but so was he.

      Isagi came home, a slight wince on his face as he rolled his shoulder as he began experiencing the weak symptoms of a tattoo flu.

      "Hey."

      You barely looked up from your phone.

      He hovered for a second, then sighed dramatically. "You’re still mad."

      Silence.

      "Okay, well, can you at least look at me?"

      With an exaggerated eye-roll, you glanced up and immediately did a double take.

      "What the hell is that?" you asked, pointing at the fresh ink on the side of his neck.

      Bold, black letters. Your name. Right there for the world to see.

      "A tattoo," he said casually, like he hadn’t just done the most insane thing in history.

      Your mouth opened. Then closed. "No, yeah, I can see that. Why?"

      Isagi scratched the back of his head, suddenly sheepish. "Well, I wanted people to know I’m taken."

      "That’s the way you went about it?"

      "Yeah, but this way, they can’t argue about it." He grinned, a little too pleased with himself.

      “Check my socials” He said with a smug expression. You gave him a puzzled but cautious look as you slowly opened your social media.

      He posted you. Not just that, he put your name in his bio with a heart emoji.

      You blinked. Slowly.

      "You’re insane."

      "Maybe." He stepped closer, tilting his head with a smirk. "But now you can’t say I’m not serious."

      “That is a good picture of us,” You hummed, squealing on the inside at the gesture. He really did that.

      “Match bios with me before it looks like I’m embarrassing myself.” He said sternly and you laughed, your eyes falling past from his lips to the fresh tattoo on his neck.

      “That’s permanent”

      “So is this,” He smiled slyly, pulling you in for a kiss.

      Damn him. Damn him and his stupid, reckless, insanely hot commitment.

      You exhaled, shaking your head. "You’re lucky I love you, Isagi Yoichi."

      That was the first time you said those words to him. I love you.

      "I know. I love you too.” He grinned. Yeah, and so does the whole world know now too.

     Meguru Bachira

      You weren’t the type to rush into things.

      Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when you first started seeing Bachira Meguru. It had been casual, fun, and effortless. The kind of relationship where dates blurred into late-night calls, where teasing turned into lingering touches, and where stolen kisses didn’t come with strings attached. You liked him. A lot. Maybe too much.

      That was the problem.

      You told yourself it was just fun. That the way he’d tug you close after a match, sweat still dripping from his bangs, meant nothing. The way he sent you voice notes about the most random things, like how the vending machine near his training center always stole his coins. It wasn’t anything special.

      But you wanted more. And after weeks of convincing yourself it wasn’t just one-sided, you��d decided it was time to have the conversation. The ‘what are we?’ talk. The ‘I think I want to be with you officially’ talk.

      You had it all planned out. You’d meet him after practice, maybe go for a walk, maybe grab something to eat. You’d be subtle about it, ease into it the way you always did with him. No pressure. No big declarations.

      Then, fate decided to punch you in the gut.

      Your phone screen lit up with a notification, the kind you usually ignored. But the name caught your eye. Bachira Meguru.

      It wasn’t a text. It wasn’t even a message from him. It was a headline. A big, bold, soul-crushing headline plastered across a sports gossip site.

      “Blue Lock Star Bachira Meguru Goes Official with Rising Model Hana Yoshida!”

      The article was filled with pictures, ones you’d never seen before. Bachira with his arm draped over her shoulders, grinning like he had no worries in the world. Her hand playfully on his chest. Them standing too close, their body language screaming intimacy.

      You stared at your phone, the weight of your own naivety sinking in.

      Had he ever mentioned her? No.

      Had he ever given you any reason to believe it was just you? Also no.

      You had assumed. And that was your mistake.

      The realization was sobering. The night before, he had sent you a voice note about his latest match, his usual excited rambling filling your ears. It felt normal. Easy. Safe. But now, the words rang hollow in your memory, like they belonged to a different story altogether.

      You inhaled sharply and forced a laugh, the sound bitter in your own ears.

      Wasn’t this a blessing in disguise? If you had spoken to him any sooner, you would’ve made a fool of yourself.

      Dodged a bullet. Saved yourself from embarrassment.

      You locked your phone and tossed it onto the couch, letting out a long breath. Maybe it was time to let go of the idea of ‘what could’ve been’ and accept what was staring you in the face.

      Bachira Meguru was never yours to begin with.

      You had ignored his calls. His texts. His voice notes. Bachira was starting to panic. Had he done something wrong? Had he messed up what you two had, without even realizing it?

      The overwhelming feelings he had for you were impossible to express, no matter how hard he tried. He never quite knew the right words, but he knew this. He couldn’t lose you. After years of isolation, of feeling like no one truly understood him, you had come into his life. You got him. And now, the thought of that slipping away, of you slipping away, was unbearable.

      So, in the dead of night, with anxiety clawing at his chest, Bachira showed up at your door. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand, a bag of your favorite snacks in the other, and an apology for whatever the hell it was he had done to make you pull away. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, but he knew he couldn’t stand this silence between you two any longer.

      When he stood there, nervously shifting from foot to foot, the words he blurted out took you by surprise, and all the anger you had been holding onto melted away in an instant.

      “Are you breaking up with me or something? What did I do?”

      You blinked, taken aback. “Meguru, you really don’t know? You didn’t see the articles and— wait, you thought we’re together?”

      “Well, yeah," he said, frowning, his eyes wide with confusion. "I’m your boyfriend, right? Or did… Oh no, did I assume wrong?” He looked at you in a mix of worry and uncertainty, and something in your chest tightened. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy.

      “No, no, it’s not that,” you said quickly, trying to explain. “I just saw you with that model, and I thought—”

      “It was for a commercial for Chris Prince’s brand,” he interrupted, his expression softening slightly. “Wait… people are thinking it’s more than that?”

      “The article says it’s official,” you said, biting your lip, unsure how to explain the confusion that had swept over you.

      He froze, processing what you said, then his face shifted to a mix of disbelief and determination. “The hell? No, no way. I’m fixing that. But first,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours, “I need to fix this.” The cool night air swirled around him, his features glowing in the soft light, giving him an almost ethereal quality.

      You blinked, momentarily speechless.

      He stepped closer, leaning in as he looked into your eyes with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. “We are together. Yes?”

      You felt your heart race. “Okay,” you answered, the tension in your body easing with the words.

      Without another word, Bachira leaned in and kissed you. Soft, sweet, but with a warmth that melted away any remaining uncertainty. When he pulled back, he glanced up at you with a shy grin.

      “Good. Can I, uh, come in?”

      You blinked again stunned from the kiss before quickly stepping aside. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, come in!”

     Hyoma Chigiri

      Chigiri was great—amazing, even. Every moment spent with him was effortless. The two of you didn’t define things; it was simple. Casual. Late night skin care dates, movies, shopping, boba. No pressure, no expectations. Or so you thought. But somewhere between laughing over late-night games and the quiet mornings at his apartment, you’d started to wish for more. You didn’t just want him in your life—you wanted him. And not just as a casual companion, but as someone who would be there in the long run. So, you had decided to talk to him about taking things a step further.

      You reread your draft one more time.

      “Hey, Hyoma. I know we’ve been having a lot of fun, but... I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I think I’m ready for something more serious. What do you think?”

      You bit your lip, ready to send it, but then the familiar buzz of a notification caught your attention. A headline. Your eyes widened in disbelief.

      “Hyoma Chigiri Goes Official with Miku Takeda”

      Your breath caught. The picture accompanying the article was of Chigiri, smiling brightly beside a woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a radiant expression. She looked happy. And he was happy, too. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the wave of disappointment, but it was too much. The words blurred before your eyes as a dull ache settled deep in your chest.

      You blinked rapidly, trying to piece everything together. You two hadn’t exactly made anything official, sure, but... hadn’t the connection felt special? You had been special, hadn’t you? There had been nights spent tangled in each other’s arms, mornings where you stayed in bed a little too long, stealing kisses between sleepy grins.

      A dark thought crept in, taunting you, Was he even serious about me?

      Without thinking, you grabbed your things, leaving the coffee shop in a daze. The cold wind bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. You didn’t know what you were feeling anymore. You had imagined a future with him, and now it was slipping through your fingers like sand.

      The next day, the confusion still gnawed at you. It was hard to focus on anything other than the image of Chigiri standing next to someone else. The woman was probably sweet, charming, someone who could give him everything you could never offer. Was that why he hadn’t wanted to make things official? You were a fool to have expected more.

      You were lost in your thoughts when your phone buzzed again. A text from him.

      “Hey, can I see you later?”

      Your heart skipped a beat. You stared at the message, reading it over and over. He wanted to see you? What could he possibly want to talk about?

      It wasn’t long before you heard a knock on your apartment door. You hesitated for a moment before opening it, only to find Chigiri standing there, his usual calm expression now tinged with uncertainty. His eyes softened when he saw you.

      “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice gentle.

      “I can't,” you replied, trying to sound neutral, but your voice wavered.

      “Why?”

      “I have to um, walk my pet fish.” You gave a poor excuse.

      “Princess, you don’t have a fish.” He bluntly said, giving you a pointed look. Your heart fluttered at the nickname. Why was he here? Why was he calling you that? Why was he playing with you like this? You defeatedly let him in, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. There was an awkward silence between you two. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly unsure of where to start.

      “You saw the article, didn’t you” he said finally, his tone a little more serious.

      You nodded, avoiding his gaze. “I did. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

      “I am,” He said defensively and you gave him a confused look. Was he here to break your heart all over again?

      “If that's all you came here to say then—”

      “You.” He interrupted you. “It’s you. I’m serious about you.”

      “What?”

      “It’s not what you think,” he replied quickly, his voice tense. “That woman in the photo, she was just a fan who asked to take a picture. Nothing more. I don’t know how that rumor even got started.”

      You bit your lip, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood through you. Of course, you hadn’t asked him about her. You’d just jumped to conclusions, letting insecurity take hold of you.

      “Oh.” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice.

      Chigiri ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. “No, this is my fault. I should’ve made it clear our relationship so you’d never have to feel this way.” His eyes softened as he stepped closer to you. “But what I’m saying is, I’ve only been focused on you.”

      Your heart skipped in your chest, and you met his gaze at last. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes.

      “Yeah, um, me too.” You awkwardly answered, suddenly feeling small under his gaze.

      “Can I be your boyfriend? Officially?”

      “Yes.”

     Rin Itoshi

      You had always known that Rin Itoshi wasn’t the type for deep emotions. His cool demeanor, sharp gaze, and the way he carried himself on and off the field. it all screamed that he was in control, always. And when you found yourself in a casual relationship with him, it was easy to slip into that mindset.

      For weeks, it had been nothing more than stolen moments. Quiet, private conversations after practice, a few casual dinners here and there, and the occasional late-night texts. You were often there for him during his more emotional problems. You knew Rin wasn’t big on showing affection, and in return, you respected his boundaries. But in the back of your mind, you started to wonder if there was something more. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t help it. Every time he looked at you, there was a flicker of something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to share.

      You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You were enjoying the moments you shared with him, and that was enough, right? But as the days went by, something inside you told you that you wanted more. You had no idea how he would respond, but the thought of asking had you nervous.

      You planned it all out. You’d wait for the perfect moment, maybe after one of his matches when his energy was high, and then you’d talk. Just the two of you, no distractions. You’d explain how you felt.You hoped he wouldn’t brush you off, maybe, just maybe, he’d feel the same way.

      But of course, life had a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expected them.

      It all started on a random afternoon when you were scrolling through your phone. You were at home, taking a much-needed break from work and from your thoughts of Rin. The screen flickered to a news headline that made your stomach drop.

      "Rin Itoshi Goes Public with New Girlfriend—Is the Blue Lock Star Finally Settling Down?"

      Your eyes went wide, and your heart skipped a beat. There, on your screen, was a picture of Rin and a woman, someone you had never seen before.

      It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. Your mind raced as you scrolled through the article, each sentence tightening the knot in your stomach.

      Was this it? Had you been just a casual fling for him all along? Was this the end of whatever bond you thought you had? The thought of Rin moving on with someone else. Someone so glamorous and perfect for him, of course. It lleft you feeling small and foolish. You had been planning to have that conversation, and now, it felt like everything was too late.

      With trembling fingers, you dropped your phone on the couch and buried your face in your hands. It was the ultimate slap to your pride, the crushing reality that your feelings were never going to be returned the way you had hoped.

      What had you been thinking? You had let yourself get carried away, fantasizing about something more than what was real. You had never asked him where you stood, and now it was too late to fix it. You laughed bitterly at yourself, feeling the sting of embarrassment.

      The next day, you avoided Rin. You weren’t ready to confront him, not yet—not with the painful sting of the news still so fresh in your mind. It hurt more than you expected, this grief, and you needed space to think. You decided to take a walk, but somehow, your feet led you to the one place you always went when you were hurt—a quiet pond tucked away near the park.

      You hadn’t expected to find him there.

      As soon as you spotted him, your breath caught in your throat. You froze, a sharp pang of discomfort settling in your chest. You considered turning and walking away before he noticed you, but it was too late. He saw you.

      "Y/n..." Rin's voice broke through the silence, and there was something in his tone that made you pause. Relief. You didn’t know how to explain it, but it was unmistakable.

      You took a step back, instinctively wanting to retreat, but he caught it. Panic flashed in his eyes, and the urgency in his voice grew. “Don’t go.”

      You stood still, unsure of what to say or do, as he closed the distance between you. The cool air felt heavier with the weight of the moment. Rin’s usual composure was gone. He looked almost vulnerable as he started to speak again.

      “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it before. “The woman in that article... I’ve known her for a while, but we’re not dating. It was just a misunderstanding.”

      You blinked, your mind racing to process his words. "Oh... okay."

      You didn’t know how to respond. The silence stretched between you, thick with all the things unsaid. Now didn’t feel like the right time to voice your feelings, not with everything still so raw.

      Rin seemed to sense your hesitation, though. He took a deep breath, his gaze steady but intense. "I think... we should be together."

      Your heart skipped, confused by the sudden shift. "What?"

      “I don’t like the thought of us not being together,” he continued, his voice firm yet vulnerable. He was a mess. His emotions were all over the place. He was so scared of messing this up with you. “So, will you...?”

      You blinked again, unsure if you heard him correctly. “You’re asking me to be your girlfriend?”

      His expression softened, the edges of his usual coldness melting away. “I am.”

      You hesitated, the doubts swirling in your mind. "I don’t want to get hurt."

      Rin stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that took you by surprise. “I promise, I won’t do that to you.”

      You took a shaky breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Okay."

      As soon as you responded, he shocked you with a chaste kiss, his face heating up immedietly afterwards.

     Seishiro Nagi

      It had been an unusually calm week for you and Seishiro Nagi. Despite the usual chaos that surrounded him, whether it was from Blue Lock’s relentless competition or his fanbase constantly buzzing about his status, you and Nagi had settled into a nice routine. There was no commitment, no promises. Just the two of you enjoying each other’s company in a casual, laid-back way. He’d show up at yours some nights, you'd binge-watch youtube or play video games, and the occasional kiss was exchanged, but it was never anything too serious.

      It was comfortable. Simple. And deep down, you felt like it was enough for you.

      But lately? Lately, something has shifted. Maybe it was the way his hands lingered just a bit longer when they brushed yours, or the way his smile made your heart beat faster than it ever had before. He didn’t say it, but you could feel something brewing underneath the surface. You wondered if maybe, just maybe, it was time to talk to him about what this was, what you two were.

      You stood in front of your mirror one morning, nervously adjusting your hair. The moment had to be right. You’d already rehearsed what you were going to say. “Seishiro, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could try something more serious?” The words sounded perfect in your mind, a perfect reflection of your growing feelings. No turning back now.

      However, fate had other plans.

      While scrolling through your phone that afternoon, you stumbled upon an article. The headline hit you like a ton of bricks:

      "Seishiro Nagi Officially Goes Public with New Girlfriend!"

      Your heart stopped. You felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Your hands trembled as you read the article further. There was Nagi, smiling in a photo with some unknown woman. The words “new girlfriend” loomed over the image like a cruel reminder that whatever you and Nagi had shared, whatever you had hoped for, wasn’t real.

      You had been overthinking things. This was just a casual thing to him, wasn’t it? You’d misread everything.

      Suddenly, the message you had planned to send him felt ridiculous. Why bother talking about getting serious when clearly, he was already with someone else?

      At that moment, the emotional whiplash was too much. You needed space. You couldn’t face him. You locked your phone screen and pushed all thoughts of the conversation aside.

      For the rest of the day, you tried to distract yourself. You threw yourself into your work, watched mindless videos, but it was all in vain. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw that headline. Your Nagi, someone you had been secretly falling for, was with someone else.

      Meanwhile, Nagi had no clue that his whole world had just fallen apart.

      He was sleeping soundly, sprawled out in his bed, his phone discarded on the nightstand.

      The evening sunset pierced through his window as he blinked his eyes open, groggy but still content. He missed you, he wonderd if you were busy. A small smile tugged at his lips as he sent you a message. You always knew how to cheer him up after a long day.

      But there was no reply.

      Weird.

      Nagi tilted his head, frowning as he locked his phone and stretched his arms above his head. He figured you were just busy or had fallen asleep early. Still, he felt a little disappointed. You two hadn’t played together in a while.

      He got out of bed, grabbing a quick snack before going back to his room to play a few rounds of valorant on his pc. Yet, something gnawed at him, something felt off. He decided to call you.

      But you didn’t pick up.

      Weird.

      He tried again. Still, no response.

      Now, Nagi was starting to get that feeling in his gut. It wasn’t like you to ignore him like this. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone buzzed again.

      This time, it was an article. The same one from earlier, only now it was everywhere. Nagi’s eyes widened as he saw the headline about him and the new “girlfriend.” He froze.

      What the hell was going on?

      His first instinct was to brush it off as some stupid gossip, but his feelings quickly turned into panic as he realized you must’ve seen the article.

      You were sitting on your couch, trying to make sense of everything, when you heard a knock at your door.

      Your heart skipped a beat. Part of you wanted to believe it was him, but the other half knew that was unrealistic. Even if he was here, you didn’t want to face him. Not like this. You didn’t want to explain the mess in your mind, the whirlwind of emotions, and the jealousy that had sprung up when you saw that article.

      You opened the door and there he was. Nagi.

      And before you could say anything, he kissed you—firmly, his lips pressing against yours in a way that made your mind go blank. His hand cupped your cheek, and when he pulled away, his eyes bore into yours, a mix of determination and something else you couldn’t quite place. He hoped you could feel all of his love for you through it.

      “You’re mine. Not anyone else,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “That news article? Fake. All of it.”

      You blinked, completely shocked. “What… what do you mean?”

      Nagi sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what was going on until just now. I didn’t even realize you saw it. But I wasn’t with her. I was never with her. It’s all some stupid misunderstanding.”

      You could hardly process his words. Your heart pounded in your chest, and suddenly the flood of emotions that had built up came rushing in. But before you could speak, Nagi kissed you again before pouting.

      “Now that we’ve cleared that, can we play Overwatch?”

      It was absurd. You were still trying to digest the fact that he’d kissed you that passionately and now he was asking to game? Your face was still red from the gesture.

      “...Okay,” you finally muttered, still a little dazed.

      “Good, I’ve missed playing with my girlfriend.” He smiled, ruffling your hair as he walked past you to get to your room. You almost choked. You’ve been his girlfriend? Since when?

     Reo Mikage

      You had always known your relationship with Reo Mikage wasn’t exactly typical, but that never stopped you from dreaming. Reo had a way of making everything feel effortless. He was charming, with an enigmatic allure that seemed to make everyone gravitate toward him. And yet, he always found a way to make you feel special. Whether it was through a text, spoiling you with gifts, late night walks, a shared glance during class, or a quiet dinner date at one of the many upscale restaurants his family frequented, Reo knew how to make you feel like you were the only one in his world.

      You weren't from the same social circle as Reo, and that difference stung every time you allowed yourself to think about it. Reo was the heir to a vast fortune, a golden boy in the world of soccer, destined for greatness. His family’s wealth and influence were legendary. Meanwhile, you were just another girl trying to make it through school, scraping together money for lunch while juggling part-time jobs. You didn’t feel like you belonged in his world, even if Reo never seemed to care about that. He had a way of looking past the things that defined people’s worth in the eyes of the world. But the reality of your difference in status was something you couldn’t fully ignore.

      It wasn’t as if Reo was outwardly dismissive about your life or background. No, Reo was sweet, considerate, and—frustratingly—always seemed like he genuinely enjoyed your company. But lately, you were starting to wonder if you had been kidding yourself. Maybe you were just another fleeting thing in his life, a distraction before he inevitably moved on to someone more suited for him. Someone from a wealthier, more established family. Someone who could fit seamlessly into his world.

      That was why, after months of casually seeing each other, you found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed one evening, staring at your phone screen and rehearsing what you were going to say to him. You’d been thinking about it for weeks now. Maybe it was time to have the conversation, to ask him where you stood and if there could be something more between you. You had convinced yourself that it was the right time. Reo was always warm toward you, his touches tender and his words soft. Maybe he was waiting for you to make the first move.

      But then, as you scrolled through your social media feed while absently flipping through notes for your upcoming exam, you saw it.

      The headline nearly knocked the breath out of you: "Reo Mikage Goes Official with Korean Chaebol Heiress, Seung Hae."

      Your heart dropped into your stomach as your finger hovered over the screen. Was this some kind of joke? You blinked twice, then read the article again. It showed pictures of Reo with a beautiful, tall woman at a high-profile event. Her arms draped around his, smiles exchanged, the kind of chemistry you never seemed to get from him.

      The worst part? The woman was breathtaking, with long black hair, flawless skin, and a designer outfit that screamed money. Her family was a significant part of the Chaebol world in Korea, and she fit perfectly into the realm of Reo’s lifestyle. Someone his family would approve of.

      A strange mix of anger, sadness, and embarrassment bubbled up inside you. You could feel your face flush with humiliation. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about the possibility of Reo seeing someone else, but this felt different. It felt real.

      Reo had been so kind to you, so sweet, that you thought maybe you were building something together. But now it all felt like a lie. You had been foolish to think he could ever be serious about someone like you. Maybe this was his way of showing you that your relationship could never be more than a fleeting thing.

      I guess I was just a phase, you thought bitterly.

      The next day, you avoided Reo. It wasn’t easy, especially since he always found ways to pick you up after school or find a day to hang out but you kept your distance. Whenever he texted you, asking if you could meet, you came up with a vague excuse about needing to study or work. Every time your phone buzzed with his name, you winced.

      But despite all your avoidance, Reo never seemed to give up. His persistence only fueled the fire of your insecurities. What could he possibly want from you now?

      Then came the day he appeared at your school’s courtyard, standing by a bench, watching you from afar. His expression wasn’t one of frustration or confusion; it was one of pure determination. It was oddly nostalgic back from when he used to go to school here.

      “Y/n, we need to talk,” he called out.

      You froze, clutching your bag tighter as you forced a tight smile. “There’s nothing to talk about, Reo.”

      “Don’t give me that,” he said, closing the distance between you. “You’re avoiding me, and it’s clear something’s wrong.”

      Your breath hitched. You could feel the tears starting to prickle at your eyes as the weight of it all hit you.

      “I saw the article,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw the pictures of you and her.”

      Reo’s face paled for a second before his usual calm demeanor returned. He raised a hand, gently cupping your face. “Love,” he began, his voice steady. “She’s just a family friend.”

      Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him, uncertain. “Then why was she wrapped around you like that? You and her, together like that... it didn’t look like business.”

      “She was posed up like that with several other sons of prestigious families there. I promise you, you’re my only one.”

      You swallowed, the tightness in your throat easing slightly. “But I’m not... I’m not like you. You have your world, Reo, and I’m just... me. It’s not the same.”

      Reo stepped even closer, his eyes soft and focused on you. “You are my world, and that is more than enough for me. Don’t ever think it isn’t.”

      The sincerity in his voice hit you like a wave, and suddenly the weight you had carried for so long felt like it was lifting.

      “I’m sorry I didn’t explain it sooner,” Reo said, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “I should’ve told you about the event but I didn’t know the press would spin a story like this.”

      “Oh”

      Reo chuckled softly, his hands still gently holding your face. “I hope you know that you’re it for me, Y/n.”

      Your heart fluttered in your chest. This was real. In that moment, all your insecurities seemed to vanish. Maybe you didn’t come from the same world as Reo, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t share a future with him.

      “Does that mean we’re together?” You asked.

      “My heart was yours since the day we met.” He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 by billie eilish 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! rafe realizes how much he cares about you when he’s willing to put everything on the line for your safety after a leaked video gets to sarah, your best friend..

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: friends? with benefits , angst , panic attack (pogue!reader) , soft(ish)!rafe (he’s bipolar ik) , sexual content + unprotected sex! , lots of praise + dirty talk , some fluff , the L word , potential stalker? , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 7.4k

notes: this is chapter two of my nobody gets me series. click the link below to read chapter one! ♡

chapter one: 𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter three: 𝐜 𝐚 𝐬 𝐮 𝐚 𝐥 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

to say rafe was freaking out would be an understatement. it had been days since he’d last seen you, and the silence on your end was driving him to the edge of his sanity. not a single text, call, or word had come from you. it was like you’d vanished, and every minute without hearing from you only made his frustration worse.

he sat on the edge of his bed at tannyhill, replaying the night in his head for the hundredth time. every detail, every sound, every look—it all came flooding back, leaving him questioning everything. maybe he’d been too rough. maybe he’d misread your reactions, thinking you wanted it when in reality, you were trying to get away. the thought sent a chill down his spine.

he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus. he paced his room, running his hand through his hair, biting his thumbnail anxiously as he mumbled under his breath. every scenario raced through his mind, each one worse than the last.

should he text you again? call? or maybe just drive to your house and force you to talk to him? the idea of busting down your door crossed his mind more than once, his desperation teetering on obsession. he hated feeling this out of control, hated not knowing where you stood.

but above all, he hated the thought of losing you—of you slipping through his fingers without giving him the chance to make it right.

just then, as if his prayers had been answered, your name lit up his phone. a call.

for a moment, he stared at the screen, his heart hammering in his chest before he cleared his throat and steadied his hand enough to swipe the answer button. “hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

the silence on your end made his stomach churn. maybe you’d called by accident? but then, faintly, he heard it—your voice. it was barely a whisper, rough and broken, like you’d been crying for hours.

“i need to talk to you,” you said, the vulnerability in your tone cutting straight through him.

“yeah, okay. i’ll come to you—” he shot up from his bed, already slipping on his shoes, when you interrupted him.

“n-no,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “just meet me at the beach. i’ll send you my pin.”

before he could respond, the line went dead, leaving him in silence once again. he stood frozen for a moment, staring at his phone, his mind racing. then, without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. whatever this was, he wasn’t about to leave it unresolved.

you watched as the waves crashed against the shore, the rhythmic sound doing little to calm the storm inside you. with trembling hands, you adjusted your hat and pulled up the hood of your oversized sweater, trying to shield yourself from the cool night air—and maybe from your own reflection in the water. your puffy eyes told the story you didn’t want to share. if it wasn’t already obvious you’d been crying for days, you wouldn’t have bothered with the oversized sweater as a weak disguise.

you’ve been spamming sarah’s phone nonstop, sending text after text, leaving voicemails that never got a reply. it got to the point where you’re certain she’s blocked you. the silent treatment has been unbearable, eating away at you in a way you didn’t expect.

but even worse, you haven’t set foot in the chateau since it all happened. you couldn’t bring yourself to. if sarah was mad at you—and you knew she was—then the rest of them probably were too. if she told them—and she likely did—you doubted any of them would want to see you.

the thought of facing jj, of looking into his bruised eye and knowing how you betrayed him, kept you away. you didn’t deserve their forgiveness, so you didn’t ask for it. instead, you sat here, waiting for rafe, the one person you weren’t sure you could avoid any longer.

you feel a presence behind you, the weight of it heavy in the air, and you know without looking who it is. the sound of footsteps crunching softly against the sand confirms it before that presence settles beside you.

rafe doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his eyes on you, studying you, trying to gauge your mood. you don’t turn to face him, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his expression—his furrowed brows, the slight downturn of his lips, and the unmistakable concern in his features.

your chest tightens. maybe he already knew about the video. maybe that’s why he looked like this—like he wasn’t sure what to say but felt he needed to be here.

you swallow hard, forcing the lump in your throat down, the tension stretching painfully in the quiet. “sarah knows, rafe,” you mutter finally, your voice barely above a whisper, but it feels deafening in the stillness.

you turn your head slightly to gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t give you one. his expression doesn’t change, his silence heavy and unreadable. of course he doesn’t react—you should’ve expected that.

you sigh softly, the weight of it all pressing harder against you. “there’s, um—” your voice cracks, and you pause, biting down on your trembling lip as the tears threaten to spill. “there’s a video of us. before we got in the truck. and someone sent it to her.”

you roll your lips into your mouth, trying desperately to hold yourself together, but it feels like you’re crumbling piece by piece. a single tear slips down your cheek, warm against your cold, rosy skin. you don’t wipe it away, too consumed by the weight of everything to care.

your chest feels like it’s caving in, the weight of it pressing down so hard it steals the air from your lungs. your breaths come short and shallow, each one more desperate than the last as if no matter how hard you try, you can’t pull in enough oxygen. your hands start to tremble, curling into fists at your sides, and your heart pounds so violently in your chest it feels like it might burst.

your vision starts to tunnel, the edges blurring as the crashing waves in front of you twist into an indistinguishable mess of sound and movement. your head feels light, like you’re floating and sinking at the same time, and a sharp heat spreads through your chest and throat, making it even harder to breathe.

you press your hands against your knees, trying to ground yourself, but it only makes the dizziness worse. the lump in your throat feels unbearable, choking you as tears stream uncontrollably down your face. everything feels too loud and too bright, the sound of the waves and the faint hum of rafe’s presence blending into an overwhelming cacophony.

“hey,” rafe says softly, his voice distant despite being right next to you. you barely register the warmth of his hand against your arm. “hey, look at me. breathe. just breathe.”

but you can’t. your body is out of your control, your mind spiraling into a dark abyss of guilt, fear, and panic. the more you fight it, the tighter the grip becomes, until all you can do is clutch your arms around yourself, trying to hold the pieces of you together as the panic consumes you.

rafe stands abruptly, the tension in his movements evident, before crouching down right in front of you. his hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing slow, soothing strokes over your skin, an anchor in the storm of your panic.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, drawing your unfocused gaze to his. his eyes lock onto yours, grounding and intent. “look at me,” he urges, keeping his tone soft but firm.

he takes a deep inhale, exaggerating the motion so you can follow it, then exhales slowly, motioning for you to mimic him, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. “breathe with me,��� he says, his own chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

your attempts are shaky at first, uneven gasps that barely resemble breaths, but you follow him. inhale. exhale. over and over. relief washes over his face as your breathing starts to regulate, the shallow gasps slowly giving way to deeper, steadier pulls of air.

“there we go,” he soothes, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your cheek. “good job, baby.” the nickname slips out before he can stop it, but he doesn’t correct himself, too focused on calming you.

his other hand comes to rest lightly on your knee, grounding you further, his presence unwavering. “i’ve got you,” he says softly, his voice steady, as if willing you to believe it.

in that moment, as rafe watched you close your eyes, your chest rising and falling steadily again, relief softening your tear-streaked face, something inside him snapped. rage surged through him like a tidal wave, sudden and uncontrollable.

and he blamed sarah.

to him, it was her fault. she had no right to get involved, no reason to make this worse. something that was meant to stay between you and him—just you and him—was now tearing you apart. and all because of her.

his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together as he thought about her selfishness, her spoiled sense of righteousness. it didn’t matter that she was his sister; all he could see was the way her actions had hurt you. the way she had betrayed him.

the image of you struggling to breathe, broken and panicked because of her interference, made his blood boil. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t right. and it was enough to make him see red.

and then there was that damn video.

the thought of it made rafe’s fists clench at his sides. it wasn’t just about the invasion of privacy; it was about you—your exposure in such a vulnerable moment. the idea of someone lurking, watching, and recording without your knowledge made his blood run cold with anger.

he didn’t care about his own reputation, not in the slightest. all he cared about was you and the way it could hurt you, the way it already had hurt you.

rafe was determined to figure out who took it. he didn’t care how long it would take or what he’d have to do to get the answers. whoever it was would regret ever crossing that line. and he’d make sure of it.

rafe gently pulls you to your feet, his hands steadying you before he wraps his arms around your shoulders, drawing you into a firm, grounding hug. the warmth radiating from his body seeps into you, calming the residual tremors in your chest. his steady breathing against the top of your head is a silent reassurance that you’re okay, that he’s got you.

“you’re good,” he murmurs softly, almost to himself, as if trying to convince you both.

after a few moments, he pulls back slightly, his hands brushing your arms as he guides you toward the passenger side of his truck. he opens the door and helps you inside, his fingers lingering as he buckles your seatbelt, the light touch against your bare thighs sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. you shiver but don’t say anything, leaning back into the seat as he closes the door.

once the truck is moving, the hum of the engine fills the comfortable silence between you. you haven’t said a word since the breakdown at the beach, but rafe doesn’t push. he seems to understand that the quiet is what you need right now.

he pulls into a nearby gas station, the bright lights spilling across the truck as he puts it in park. “i’ll be quick,” he mumbles, more to himself than you, before slipping out and heading inside.

you sit there, watching him through the window as he grabs a water bottle and lingers near the snack aisle, seemingly deliberating. for a brief moment, you feel a flicker of something you can’t place—gratitude, guilt, or maybe just relief that he’s here.

inside, rafe grabs a pack of gummy worms, deciding it’s the safest option. he figures it’s something easy, something you might actually eat since he’s convinced you haven’t been eating properly these past few days. satisfied, he starts to head to the checkout when he hears it—a laugh he knows all too well, one that instantly sets him on edge.

his head snaps in the direction of the sound, and there they are—sarah and john b, standing in the same aisle he just walked out of. rafe’s jaw tightens, a flare of anger igniting in his chest. it takes everything in him not to start something right then and there.

his fists clench at his sides as he forces himself to stay composed, but the tension in his body is undeniable as he turns on his heel and strides toward her.

“i need to talk to you,” he says sharply, his voice low but firm as he approaches sarah.

sarah visibly jumps at his sudden appearance, her startled expression quickly morphing into a glare. rafe can see the way her jaw ticks, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, mirroring his own.

she glances at john b, offering him a reassuring smile. “i’ll be right back,” she says calmly, though her tone carries an edge. reluctantly, john b stays put, watching them as sarah follows rafe to the back of the store, where the beverage aisle is quieter and out of sight.

as soon as they’re alone, rafe’s grip tightens on the gummy worms and water bottle in his hands, his knuckles turning white as he struggles for some semblance of control. his glare pierces through sarah, the tension between them thick and heavy, charged with years of unresolved resentment.

“you had no fucking right,” he growls, his voice low and venomous, the anger in his tone bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

sarah’s brows knit together, her own frustration flaring as she lowers her voice to a sharp whisper. “i had no right? rafe, you had no fucking right!” she hisses, her eyes blazing with anger. “my best friend of all people? are you serious? you could’ve literally chosen anyone else, anyone, but no, you always have to come after my happiness!”

her words hang heavy between them, cutting deeper than she intended. rafe’s jaw clenches, his entire body rigid as he stares at her, his anger matched only by the faint flicker of hurt she’s unknowingly struck.

“this isn’t about your happiness,” he snaps back, his voice still low but laced with venom. “this is about you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. you had no right to drag her into this.”

sarah crosses her arms, her glare unwavering. “and you had no right to do what you did, rafe. you knew what this would do to her, to me, to all of us. but you didn’t care, did you? because you never do.”

rafe steps closer, the tension between them nearly suffocating as his voice drops even lower, dripping with bitterness. “you think i don’t care? you have no idea what i feel, sarah. none. but you—you took it too far. that video?” his grip tightens around the items in his hands, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. “do you have any idea what that did to her? to me?”

sarah’s arms tighten around herself, but she doesn’t back down. “i didn’t take that video, rafe. don’t pin your shit on me,” she fires back, her voice steadier now, but no less angry. “you’re the one who dragged her into your bullshit. you’re the one who made her a target.”

“a target? i’ve been protecting her!” he snarls, his composure cracking as he takes another step closer. “you think i wanted this? for someone to spy on us, to send you a video like that? you have no idea what i’d do to keep her safe.”

sarah laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “protecting her? from what, rafe? from you?” her words are sharp, designed to cut, and they do. “because that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.”

rafe’s jaw ticks, his breathing heavy, as he stares her down, trying to bite back the words that threaten to spill. “you don’t get it,” he mutters, his voice thick with frustration. “you never did. this isn’t about you, sarah.”

“no, it’s about her,” she snaps, her voice rising slightly despite her attempt to keep it contained. “my best friend, rafe. she’s not just some girl for you to fuck around with and forget about when it’s convenient. she deserves better than this—better than you.”

the words hit him harder than he expects, but he doesn’t let it show. instead, he leans in closer, his tone sharp as a blade. “and you think she needs you playing savior? she doesn’t, sarah. she’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

sarah’s face softens slightly, her anger flickering into something more conflicted, but she doesn’t back down. “if she’s so strong, then why is she breaking because of you?” she whispers, her voice quieter now but no less cutting.

rafe doesn’t answer immediately, his grip loosening as the weight of her words settles over him. for the first time, he looks away, his jaw tight as he swallows hard.

sarah sighs deeply, her anger giving way to something softer, though the tension in her shoulders remains. she looks down at her shoes for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet rafe’s, her eyes filled with something he doesn’t expect—concern.

“if you really care about her, rafe,” she says, her voice quieter now, less sharp but still firm, “you’ll leave her alone. you’re just going to take her down with you.”

her words cut deeper than he wants to admit, but he doesn’t let it show. his jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shakes his head. “you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, his voice low but defensive.

“don’t i?” sarah counters, her brows furrowing. “i’ve seen it, rafe. the way you drag people into your chaos. she’s already hurting because of you—look at what’s happened these past few days! she doesn’t need this. she doesn’t need you.”

rafe flinches at the words but quickly masks it with anger. “and what? you think walking away is going to fix everything? you think i can just leave her and pretend like nothing happened?” his voice rises slightly, frustration creeping in.

“yes,” sarah replies simply, her tone steady but sad. “because if you don’t, she’s going to lose herself trying to save you. and you know that, rafe. deep down, you know that.”

rafe’s hands clench into fists, his breathing heavy as her words sink in. for a moment, he’s silent, his eyes darting away as he processes what she’s said. but instead of responding, he turns on his heel, walking away from her and toward the checkout, his mind racing with everything he doesn’t want to admit might be true.

as rafe walks toward the checkout, his thoughts are a storm of anger, guilt, and something deeper he can’t quite name. sarah’s words play over and over in his head, each repetition chipping away at his defenses. if you really care about her, you’ll leave her alone. the weight of it feels unbearable, but he pushes it down, refusing to let it show.

he pays for the water and gummy worms quickly, his mind far from the mundane transaction. the cashier’s bored expression barely registers as he grabs the bag and heads back to the truck. the short walk feels like miles, his chest tight with a mix of emotions he can’t fully unravel.

when he gets back to the truck, he opens the door and climbs in, placing the bag on the center console. you’re still in the passenger seat, curled up slightly, staring out the window at the empty gas station parking lot. the dim light casts shadows across your face, and rafe’s chest aches at the sight of you looking so small, so fragile.

“here,” he says, his voice softer than usual as he pulls out the water and gummy worms, placing them gently in your lap. “figured you should have something.”

you don’t look at him right away, your fingers hesitating before picking up the water bottle. “thanks,” you murmur, your voice barely audible, but it’s the first thing you’ve said to him since the beach. it feels like both a relief and a dagger in his chest.

rafe leans back in his seat, running a hand through his hair as silence falls between you again. he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to fix this. sarah’s words linger in the back of his mind like a poison, making him question everything.

finally, he glances at you, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “do you… do you want me to take you home?” the question hangs in the air, heavy and uncertain, as he watches you for any sign of what you want, what you need from him.

“um—my mom and i kinda got into this fight,” you admit, your voice small, barely louder than the hum of the truck’s engine. “i really don’t want to be home right now.” your fingers fumble with the cap of the water bottle before you finally twist it open, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in your throat.

rafe glances at you briefly, nodding as he shifts the truck into gear. “tannyhill it is,” he says simply, his tone steady but softer than you expected.

soon, he’s reversing out of the gas station, the hum of the tires on the road filling the silence between you. you steal a glance at him, his profile illuminated by the dim dashboard lights. his grip on the steering wheel is firm, his jaw tight, but his expression is calm—focused, almost protective.

you sip your water quietly, the tension from earlier slowly starting to ebb away, replaced by a strange sense of relief. for all of rafe’s flaws, he always had a way of making you feel like, in the moment, nothing else could touch you.

as the truck cruises through the dark streets, you lean your head against the window, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. the familiar scent of leather and cologne fills your senses, grounding you more than you care to admit.

you hadn’t been to tannyhill in a while, the last time being a couple of weeks ago with rafe. stepping inside now, you realize it hasn’t changed—it still holds that same strange sense of comfort, despite everything. the air smells faintly of cedar and something distinctly rafe, a mix of cologne and the warm musk of the house itself.

rafe walks in behind you, the sound of his shoes soft against the hardwood floor. he sets his keys down next to the coat hanger with a quiet clink, his movements uncharacteristically calm. you glance around as you step further into the house, your gaze catching the open laptop and scattered paperwork on the coffee table. clearly, he’d been in the middle of something important when you called.

you move to the outside balcony, sinking onto the couch there, the cool night air brushing against your skin. rafe follows shortly after, standing in the doorway for a moment before stepping onto the balcony.

your eyes flick back to the coffee table through the glass door, taking in the slight disarray of his work. he must’ve dropped everything the moment he heard your voice, and the thought makes your chest tighten, your heart swelling with an unfamiliar warmth.

“you didn’t have to stop what you were doing,” you say softly, glancing up at him.

he shrugs, leaning against the balcony railing, his expression unreadable but his voice steady. “it’s not important. you are.”

his words linger in the air between you, and for once, you don’t overthink them. you just let yourself feel the comfort of being here, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

“rafe—” you begin, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

“yeah?” he cuts in quickly, his response sharp and immediate, like he’d been waiting on edge for you to say something. his eyes search yours, his posture tense, his mind clearly elsewhere. sarah’s words are still plaguing him, the weight of them pulling him into his thoughts.

you take a small breath, steadying yourself. “thank you,” you say, your tone even softer now. “for helping me through that.”

his expression softens slightly, and he takes a step closer before sitting down on the small table in front of you, close enough that his knees brush yours. his focus is completely on you now, and the tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction.

“it’s happened before,” you admit quietly, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, “but it’s never been that…” your voice trails off, the weight of earlier still heavy in your chest.

rafe nods slowly, understanding without needing you to finish the sentence. “i know,” he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with something that sounds like regret. his gaze holds yours, unwavering. “it’s okay. you’re okay.”

his words settle over you like a blanket, grounding you in the moment. for all his rough edges, rafe had a way of being exactly what you needed when the world felt like too much. and right now, that was more than enough.

the silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken, until rafe finally sighs, breaking it. “i saw sarah at the store,” he says, his voice low.

your gaze lifts from your fingers, which had been nervously fiddling with the hem of your sweater. sitting up straighter, you meet his eyes, searching for something in his expression. “what did she say?” you ask softly.

he exhales sharply, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “i just want you to know,” he begins, his voice steady but tense, “she’s not mad at you. she’s mad at me.” his hand clenches into a fist, his knuckles whitening as he stares down at the floor.

“sarah…” he trails off, his jaw tightening at the mere thought of her. after a beat, he continues, his voice bitter. “she thinks i’m using you to get to her.”

the words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is watch him, trying to make sense of it all. “are you?” you ask, your voice quiet but firm, your gaze unwavering as you search his face.

rafe’s eyes flicker between yours, the tension in his body palpable. his jaw works for a moment, and then he finally answers, his voice steady. “no.”

the way he says it—calm, without hesitation—makes you believe him. but the weight of everything else still lingers, making the air between you feel thick and unsteady.

“rafe, it’s fine. really, I’m over it,” you say softly, trying to keep your tone light, even though it feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest. “if you just want to keep it casual, then we’ll leave it at that. it was the agreement in the first place, right?”

his jaw tightens, his teeth grinding together as he struggles to keep his composure. casual. the word feels like a knife twisting in his gut because it’s the opposite of what he wants.

but admitting that to you? that’s something else entirely. he almost slipped earlier—nearly spilled everything in the middle of the gas station while arguing with sarah. but here, sitting across from you, the words feel too heavy, too risky.

rafe wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to protect you. every instinct in him screamed to keep you away from his world, to shield you from the darkness that followed him everywhere he went.

“it’s not that simple,” he mutters finally, his voice low, as if he’s talking more to himself than to you. his fists clench again, the tension in his body radiating outward. “you think this is about keeping it casual? it’s not. it’s about keeping you safe.”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a moment, the mask slips completely. there’s a raw vulnerability in his expression, something he’s been trying to keep buried. “the way i live my life… it’ll ruin you,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “and i can’t let that happen.”

your brows knit together, a confused pout forming on your lips that almost makes him cave. “if this is about stacy thornton—”

“it’s not about stacy,” he interrupts quickly, his tone sharp but not unkind. his hands move to his face, rubbing stressfully as he exhales deeply. “the reason you saw me with her that day on the golf course… it wasn’t what you think.”

you stay quiet, your gaze fixed on him as he drops his hands and meets your eyes again. “i was trying to strike a deal with her father. cameron development is his company’s biggest competitor, and if i can get close to stacy, he won’t see me as a threat, and i could blindside him,” he explains, his voice steady but laced with frustration, as though the situation is as exhausting for him as it is for you.

his hand instinctively finds your knee, his thumb tracing gentle patterns across it, grounding himself as much as you. “i don’t want anything to do with stacy, i promise,” he says, his tone softening as he looks at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of understanding.

the sincerity in his voice, the gentle touch of his hand, and the raw honesty in his confession make it harder for you to hold onto the frustration you felt before. “then why does it feel like you’re always pushing me away?” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

his eyes shut softly, as if he’s trying to gather any remaining resolve he can muster. his chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh before he speaks, his voice low and unsteady. “because, baby…” the nickname slips from his lips so naturally, so effortlessly, it sends a flutter through your stomach despite the weight of the moment.

“if i don’t push you away,” he continues, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “then i have to let you in. and i can’t do that to you.” his voice cracks just slightly at the end, the vulnerability slipping through despite his attempts to stay composed.

his hand tightens its grip on your knee for a moment, as if anchoring himself to you, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns. “letting you in means exposing you to all of it—everything i’ve done, everything i am. and you don’t deserve that.” his voice wavers, the rawness in his tone making your chest ache.

you stare at him, your heart twisting at his words. “but don’t you see?” you whisper, leaning forward slightly, your own voice trembling. “you’re not protecting me by shutting me out, rafe. you’re just hurting me more.”

his resolve crumbles completely, the weight of holding back proving too much. he sighs softly, his hand sliding from your knee to gently grip your chin, tilting your face toward his. his eyes search yours for a moment, as if asking for permission, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

it’s not like the other times. this kiss isn’t rushed or heated—it’s careful, almost fragile, like he’s afraid it might break both of you if he lingers too long. his thumb brushes your jaw as his lips move against yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away.

when he pulls back slightly, his forehead rests against yours, his hand still holding your chin. his voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “i just… i don’t know how else to show you.”

“show me what?” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep from closing the distance between you again.

rafe’s hand lingers on your chin, his thumb gently brushing your skin as his eyes bore into yours, raw and unguarded. he swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly as he finally says the words that have been clawing at him for what feels like forever.

“that i love you,” he murmurs, the confession hanging heavily in the air between you. his gaze doesn’t falter, watching your every reaction like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next.

your breath catches in your throat, his words hitting you harder than you ever expected. the vulnerability in his voice, the way his hand shakes ever so slightly against your skin—it’s enough to shatter any walls you had left.

“well, i can piece it together, i’m a big girl,” you mutter, your words barely leaving your lips before you close the space between you, crashing your mouth against his without another thought.

rafe groans softly, his hands immediately finding their way into your hair, tangling in it as he pulls you closer. in one swift motion, he removes the hat from your head, tossing it aside like it’s in his way. his lips move against yours with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, his touch igniting a spark that makes your whole body feel alive.

“what are you doing to me, huh?” he mumbles against your lips, his voice low and gravelly, the words almost a plea.

you smile against his mouth, the smallest laugh escaping you before you pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands brushing lightly against his chest. “probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” you reply softly, your gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes.

a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth before he pulls you back in, kissing you deeply, as if trying to make up for all the moments he held himself back.

rafe’s kisses left you dizzy, every touch, every movement pulling you deeper into him. before you even realized it, you were rolling your hips against his, your body moving instinctively, chasing the heat building between you. breathy moans slipped from your lips against his, and his hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements as you straddled him.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, his head falling back slightly as he leans into the couch, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “doing so good f’me,” he mumbles, his voice rough with pleasure.

his words send a spark through you, making your hips move more deliberately, the friction sending shivers up your spine. rafe’s eyes never leave you, dark and hooded as he watches you attempt to bounce on him, your movements unsteady as the overwhelming pleasure takes hold of you.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tighter, helping you find a rhythm. “so fucking perfect.” his praise only spurs you on, the intensity building with every roll of your hips, every moan that slips from both your lips. the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the heat consuming you both.

the way you were squeezing around him had rafe’s jaw ticking, his self-control hanging by a thread. every movement of your hips sent shockwaves through him, and he was trying—really trying—not to lose himself and thrust into you, wanting to keep you comfortable.

but when he couldn’t hold back any longer, his hands gripped your waist firmly, flipping you so your back was splayed against the couch. before you could even process the shift, he grabbed one of the nearby pillows, sliding it under your lower back to lift your hips, positioning you for a deeper angle.

“trust me,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender, his lips brushing against your temple as he settled between your legs.

then he started moving, his pace firm and deliberate, each thrust pushing into you with an intensity that had you crying out, your moans matching the rhythm of his movements. your hands gripped his neck for support, nails digging in slightly as the new angle sent pleasure coursing through you in waves.

“fuck,” rafe groaned, his voice low and strained as he watched your body arch beneath him. “you feel so good, baby—so fucking perfect.” his words only amplified the heat pooling in your core, your moans turning into desperate gasps as he kept up the relentless pace, the balcony echoing with the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared breaths.

“rafe, shit—don’t stop,” you beg, your voice trembling as your legs quiver around his waist, struggling to keep hold of him as he pounds into you. every thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body arching into his as you cling to him for support.

he groans at your words, his eyes darkening as his hand slides up your body, finding its way to your neck. his fingers curl around your throat, applying just enough pressure under your jaw to make your head spin, the sensation amplifying the overwhelming heat pooling in your core.

“you like that, huh?” he mutters, his voice rough and dripping with control as he watches your face twist in pleasure beneath him. “look at you, baby, taking it so well for me.”

your eyes flutter closed as the overwhelming combination of his relentless pace and the pressure on your neck sends you spiraling closer to the edge. “rafe,” you whimper, your voice trembling, the sound barely audible over the symphony of heavy breaths and skin meeting skin.

his eyes stay locked on you, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and trembling body beneath him. his other hand moves to press firmly on your lower stomach, the added pressure making you cry out, your back arching against the couch as the sensation intensifies everything.

“fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly as he watches your reactions, completely entranced by the way you respond to him. “you feel that?” he mutters, his hand pressing down just a little more. “feel how deep i am?”

you can only nod weakly, your moans turning into desperate, breathless gasps as your body tightens around him, squeezing with every thrust. rafe’s jaw clenches, his own composure fraying as he drives you both closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering.

“come on, pretty girl,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his tone raw and commanding. “cum for me. i’ve got you.”

his words are the final push, and your body shudders as the release crashes over you. your walls convulse around his cock, pulling a deep, guttural moan from his throat. the intensity has your head spinning, and your moans dissolve into gasps as he keeps thrusting, prolonging your high even as the overstimulation starts to set in.

rafe’s hand slips from your neck, his head dropping to rest beside yours, his breath hot against your skin. his pace falters as he feels his own release building rapidly. when your cunt squeezes him tightly on a particularly deep thrust, it sends him over the edge.

“fuck,” he groans, his hips stuttering as he spills inside of you, filling you completely. his grip on your hips tightens as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, his body trembling slightly against yours.

the room falls into a heavy silence, the only sounds the mingling of your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the crickets outside. rafe stays still for a moment, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, grounding himself before slowly pulling out to look at you, his eyes soft but unreadable.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “i didn’t mean to be rough.” his eyes scan your face intently, searching for any trace of discomfort or regret.

you let out a soft laugh, reaching up to pull his face down to yours, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. his shoulders relax, and he smiles against your mouth, the tension in his body melting away.

when you pull back, the wet sound of the kiss echoes softly in the quiet night, and a playful smirk tugs at your lips. “you’re so cute,” you tease, your voice light and full of warmth.

for the first time, you see his cheeks flush a faint shade of pink, and the sight makes you erupt into a fit of laughter. rafe huffs softly, shaking his head, but there’s a shy grin tugging at his lips that he can’t hide.

“i love you, rafe,” you say suddenly, the words falling from your lips with ease, no hesitation or doubt.

his eyes widen slightly, his expression softening as he looks at you. for a moment, he’s silent, his hand brushing against your cheek. “i love you,” he whispers, his voice rough but steady, his gaze holding yours as if to make sure you know just how much he means it.

“we’re gonna be okay,” you whisper softly, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. your thumb brushes over his skin in slow, soothing strokes, your eyes locked on his.

“yeah,” rafe murmurs, his voice dark and full of resolve, “after i kill the person who recorded you.”

your hand stills for a moment, his words making your stomach twist. you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darken at the thought, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“rafe,” you say softly, leaning closer to him, your tone a mixture of caution and reassurance. “that’s not how we should handle this. i just… i just want it to go away. i don’t want you to make it worse.”

his eyes flicker back to yours, softening slightly, though the fire in them doesn’t fully fade. “no one gets to do that to you,” he mutters, his hand coming up to cover yours on his cheek. “no one gets to hurt you and get away with it.”

you sigh, leaning your forehead against his. “we’ll figure it out. together. just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

he doesn’t answer right away, the weight of your words hanging between you. but after a moment, he nods reluctantly, his hand tightening around yours. “okay,” he finally says, his voice calm, though the tension in his tone betrays him. it’s clear he’s only agreeing to keep you at ease.

later, once you’ve fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep, rafe gently scoops you up, careful not to wake you. he carries you to his bed, tucking you under the soft duvet. his gaze lingers on your face for a moment, his expression softening as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your cheek. with a quiet sigh, he turns and closes the door behind him.

but there’s no rest for him tonight. he stalks to his office, the air around him heavy with purpose. dropping into his chair, he powers up his laptop, his jaw set as he begins sending emails and messages.

personal investigators, tech-savvy acquaintances, and anyone else who might help him track down the person responsible for the video—you’re not just a priority to him; you’re the priority.

each keystroke is filled with a quiet rage, his determination growing with every email sent. rafe won’t rest, won’t stop, until he figures out who did this to you—and makes sure they regret it.

© aerialmirrorss

taglist!: @loren8818181 @cherubcameron @shookyungsoo @waywarddiplomatfarmmonger-blog @furiouscopshepherduniversity @chenslucy @superswaggycooch @ggyuslovie @mileyraes @tincanhat @pinklleemonade @stylestarkey @percysley @rrosiitas @ipromiseidk @faephoria

[blindmagdalena]

You Let Me Complicate You

18+ 4k homelander x f!reader. bickering, post-breakup sex, dubcon/coercion, angst, jealousy, emotional manipulation, implied murder, stalking, boundary smashing, breaking and entering, cunnilingus, penetrative sex. read on AO3. written as a follow-up to the breakup, but can be read as a standalone. gif credit.

Breaking up with Homelander is... complicated. After all, it is a god that loves you.

"What do I taste like?" You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over. "Love," he said at last. "Like you love me." You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you. If that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier.

Homelander is an aberration.

Stronger than a hundred men, faster than a bullet and sharp as a tack all paired with a teaspoon’s depth of emotional maturity. He’s volatile, twisted, broken in ways no amount of therapy could ever hope to duct tape back together. He’s no better off than a dog that bites to kill. No matter how he got to this point, the best thing for him–for the world–would be to put him down by any means necessary.

Too bad you can’t seem to stop fucking him.

It’s late when you hear the front door open with a distinct crack. You’re sprawled out on the couch in the living room, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. What comes next is no surprise to you–a shock of primary colors filling the narrow doorway, a handsome face made ghoulish by the haunting light of the television in an otherwise dark room.

“You nailed the door shut,” Homelander says, the inflection of his voice somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Because you broke it,” you throw back, a stale Twizzler balanced between your lips. It had tasted good enough when you started eating it, but now–in his presence–the sweetness of it has turned sour.

“You changed the locks,” he says with a light shrug, cape swaying as he meanders towards you. “My key didn’t work.”

“Your key? Stealing a key to my house does not make it your key,” you say tersely, lifting your foot to press it firmly to his thigh, stopping him in his tracks. 

He glances down, a mirthless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he catches your ankle in his gloved hand, yanking you down the couch so suddenly you lose your Twizzler to the floor with a gasp. It’s one thing to know that Homelander has strength enough to throw cars like frisbees. It’s another to feel it. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you like a jolt, followed swiftly by something hotter low in your naval.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” he begins, dropping your ankle. He lifts his knee and slots it between your legs, his opposite boot on the floor, his hand braced on the back of the couch, pinning you in place.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you cut in dryly, moving to shift up the couch, away from him. He snatches your shoulder, halting you with ease. His thumb strokes your skin idly, goosebumps erupting beneath his touch.

“And I’ve realized that this whole… thing between you and I, this ‘will they, won’t they,’ ” he says, bobbing his head side to side. “It’s getting stale. Don’t you think it’s about time we progressed the plot?” He asks, leaning in close.

You brace your hand against his chest, holding him in place as ineffectually as you did earlier. You both know it’s all a game. It’s all pretense. There had been fondness between you once–love, even–but you’re done with that now. You have to be done with it, or Homelander will swallow you whole. He’s a black pit, a murderer, and his need knows no end. He’ll destroy you and everything you know and love if he thinks it’ll satiate that need.

You’ve lost enough. You can’t afford to lose any more of yourself to him.

“Jesus Christ, you even think in TV script,” you say, pushing on his chest. He leans back, but not by much. It sends a terrible little chill down your spine. “I’m starting to think the only thing that might actually kill you is an original thought.”

His eyes narrow and his bright white teeth flash predatorily in the darkness. “You’re lucky I haven’t broken your neck,” he says, hand slipping from your shoulder to your throat. The sharp press of his thumb into your windpipe steals your breath, makes your thighs tighten on either side of his leg snug between yours. His lips split into an unkind grin. “Or maybe not. You’d probably like that.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit, gripping his wrist with your other hand. Your pulse is starting to throb against the leather of his glove. He moves his thumb from your windpipe to your jaw and turns your head away, leaning in with a deep, pointed inhale along your neck.

“Is that why your hormones are going haywire? Because I disgust you?” He asks, grinding his thigh between your legs in a way that makes you gasp. “Y’know, given how full of it you are, I was sure I’d smell the bullshit on you. But all I smell… is how fucking wet you are.”

He grabs your hip and the memories come to you like muscle memory. How good it feels to be gripped and fucked and loved by someone beyond your comprehension. To feel as if you’ve stopped the world turning and called the sun itself to shine on you alone.

You twist your chin out of his grip and level him with a heated stare. “I hate you,” you hiss, grasping for the knife you know will twist the deepest. 

It works for a second, his smug expression faltering, but only for an instant. His jaw sets, and his lips curl into that same unkind smile. “C’mon, babe,” he coos, the intimate familiarity woven into that pet name making your skin crawl. “We both know that I can always tell when you’re lying.”

He kisses you like he always has. Like you belong to him. In a way, you suppose you always will. There’s nothing you can do to pry your throat from Homelander’s jaws. Nowhere you can run that he won’t eventually find you. Like quicksand, the more you fight, the tighter he clamps down. Truth be told, though, that isn’t the worst of it. The worst of it is that the tighter he grips you, the less you want to fight him.

His tongue slithers into your mouth like a serpent into the garden and you bite down hard. While pliant between your teeth, the flesh doesn’t yield. It never will. He never will. Instead he moans a little chuckle that fades into a rumble against your lips.

“That how it’s gonna be?” He asks, the words rasped into your mouth. “Y’wanna bite and claw? Play hard to get?” He laughs, the sound of it reedy and light, like it’s all a silly little game of make-believe. “I can do that.”

He reeks of his own desperation for what he says to be true. More than anything, he wants to dress up his desires as yours. He wants to believe he’s giving you what you want. That way, he can trick himself into believing you need him.

He bites the middle tip of his glove and tugs it off with his teeth, tossing it aside. His bare thumb brushes your lip, smearing his spit and yours. “I saw you with that fucking loser,” he says, the airiness suddenly gone from his voice.

Your stomach drops. Two days ago you’d been with a man. You’d been so desperate to forget him that night that anyone would have done the job. You stumbled out with some nobody from the bar who’d been good enough for a sloppy makeout session in the back of his truck, but not good enough to bring home. It hadn’t ended well.

How close of an eye is Homelander keeping on you?

“I’d be angry if it hadn’t been so fuckin’ pathetic,” he says through his teeth.

“Liar,” you say tightly. You feel his fury in the tension of his body. He’s pissed that you’d seek this out anywhere else. As if he still has a claim over your body. Your pleasure.

His eyes flash up to yours. He sneers, pushing his thumb between your lips. “I watched you bite his lip until he bled. I watched him slap you,” he says, dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridges of your bottom teeth. The memories come to you as he speaks them, every moment of it made bleary by alcohol. “You wanted it rough, but he couldn’t handle you, could he? Because you’re used to something better. You’re used to a god.”

You sneer right back at him, yanking your head to the side, his thumb slipping from between your lips. “Could you be any more in love with yourself? Go fuck yours-”

“I still had to kill him, of course,” he continues nonchalantly, grinding your thoughts to a screeching halt. He laughs humorlessly. “For kissing you. And, well–for everything else, obviously. Slapping you,” he says, brushing his knuckles down your cheek. The same one the man had struck. “Humping your leg like a fucking dog.”

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, throat tight. Bile burns at the back of it. All you wanted was to get away from this. The blood, the horror of it. Yet no matter what you do to dissuade him, he brings death to your doorstep. “You have everything. You could have anyone. Why are you–”

“Because I want you,” he hisses, words so sharp his sharp teeth snap together. “Because I love you, and that’s what you do when you love someone,” he says. You can feel the accusation building in his words. “You don’t give up on them. And if that means cleaning up every dirty little mistake you make,” he says softly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “So be it.” 

A cold shiver rolls down your spine. You stare woundedly at him, lips parted, brows pinched together, the misery of it all etched into every line of your face. He stares at you in turn, and after a beat, his own hard expression softens.

“Hey, hey,” he says, the heat of his breath a ghostly kiss on your lips. “It’s okay,” he says, brushing the tip of your nose with his. “I forgive you.”

He kisses you again, more tender now. Your eyes prickle with tears. His gentleness hurts so much more than his violence. It disarms you, carries you to a time when things were simpler between you. Sweeter and warmer. 

Homelander makes the world feel wonderful and dangerous, like standing in the middle of an electric storm. Being loved by him is the feeling of having your ribs cracked open, your heart cradled in his bare hands, possessive and bloody. What had been thrilling grew stifling, a feeling you realize now never truly went away.

He’s inescapable, literally and figuratively. Even when he isn’t inviting himself into your home or lurking in the periphery of your vision, Vought’s hero is plastered on every billboard and screen in the city. You haven't been able to breathe without inhaling the thick miasma of him.

Tears roll down to your temples as you kiss him back, both hands fisted in his soft hair, tugging. He makes a pleased little sound against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom lip. He’s always kissed like a man possessed–like every brush of your lips is a drop of salvation–but the hunger he’s developed since you tried to leave him is unparalleled. He kisses you like he means to devour you whole.

You bite back a sob, but the hiccuped noise of it catches his attention nonetheless. He breaks from you, looking down at you with a feverish mix of yearning, impatience and something that almost resembles pity, which might be the closest thing he knows to sympathy.

“Hey,” he coos, dusting your jaw with feather light kisses. “Don’t cry.”

“It’s awful,” you choke out.

“What is?”

“Your love.”

“I know,” he says after a prolonged pause. “It’s all I know.”

You look at him, the image of him bleary through your tears. There’s a morose resignation in his ocean-storm eyes, a distance that makes him seem far, far away from you, even as you taste the heat of his breath on your lips.

Focus returns to his gaze, and suddenly he’s present again. “It’s all I know,” he says again, his tone made of wood, stiff and splintering.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lift your palm to his cheek, hovering just shy of touching. He’s pulled to it like a magnet, nuzzling into your palm, eyes closing. His hand slides down the familiar slopes of your body, settling at your hip, where his fingertips sink in like claws, the pressure of them shy. For as vicious as things have gotten between you, he’s never hurt you. A fact he lords over you as if he should be applauded for it.

I love you more than anything. You know that, right? That I would never do anything to hurt you? He’d asked you during that first fight. When everything went wrong. 

You’d only been able to nod then, trapped with a man you didn’t recognize wearing the face of the man you loved.

That’s right. Of course you do. Because if I wanted to hurt you, I would have. It would have been easy, huh?

Despite how desperately you’ve tried to fortify yourself against him, it’s still so easy.

Homelander is an aberration, but so too is he a man, and there was a time when the man was all that you saw. When the monster at the core of him reared its head, bloody and unrepentant, that became all you could see in him. Now, the two are so irrevocably tangled in the sinew of the other, you’re never sure which you’re looking at.

“I miss you,” you confess to the man in him, voice so soft only his ears possibly could have discerned the words. As if you can hide the words from the monster lurking behind if you speak them quietly enough. 

He looks as confused as your own aching heart. “I’m here,” he says, everything in his tone willing you to believe it. He doesn’t understand that you miss who he was before you knew what he was.

A mournful noise swells in your chest, but he kisses you before it can escape. “I’m here,” he says again, the hand at your hip turning into a fist in the fabric of your clothes, tearing them at the seams. “I’ll make you feel better,” he says between presses of his lips, hungry and rushing, like he can outspeed your miserable grief. “Let me make you feel good.”

Sex has always been an avenue of redemption for Homelander. Whether he’s frustrated, anxious, wounded or a combination of them all, he’s sought to remedy it through a good orgasm. He treats you as though the notion should hold true for you: the fight doesn’t count so long as he makes you come.

Yet again, you’re left stricken by him. As you have a dozen times before, all you can do is nod. Deep in your core, you know he’s right. He can make you forget this horrible ache in yourself, the grief and the fear. He can take you away to the dream you’d lived before you met the beast in his shadow. 

Coherent thought turns to water slipping between the cracks of your mind as Homelander’s bare fingers brush your inner thigh. You suck in a sharp breath that leaves you as a shudder and you clutch at his collar, twisting the fabric, unsure if you mean to push him away or pull him closer.

Homelander makes the choice for you, closing the distance and kissing you too gently, too sweetly. You spur him with your teeth, needing it faster, harder. Needing it to hurt just enough to not feel entirely right. He ignores your prompt, focused wholly on tasting you, on sliding his fingers up into the waiting warmth between your thighs. He presses the pad of his middle finger to your clit, deft and familiar.

You sigh, closing your eyes, ready to lose yourself to the feel of something good. He slides serpentine down your body, kissing you through your shirt, nipping at your skin through the fabric for the way it makes you jump. His lips trail down until they pass the hem of your shirt, finding where he’s stripped you. His mouth is unbearably warm, breath hot huffs on your bare skin, goosebumps erupting everywhere.

He mouths at your hip, sucks the skin dark before trailing further down, leaving a constellation with his lips. The scorching wet heat of his tongue feels like a brand on your clit, replacing his hand with his mouth. 

You thread your fingers into his hair, widening the spread of your legs to allow for the way he shoulders under and between them, lifting your lower half. He nuzzles into the nectary sweetness of you, moaning unabashedly for your familiar taste.

What do I taste like? You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. Everything about him fascinated you; did his super smell lend itself to super taste? Could he pick out each note of you, dissect your profile into sections?

He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over.

Love, he said at last. Like you love me.

You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you, if that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier. If he plunges his tongue to the core of you in the hopes he might discover lingering shreds of what the two of you once had.

A moan escapes you. His fingers bite into your thighs, tongue coaxing more. Restraint dissipating, you tighten your grip on his hair and tug, grinding hard against his mouth. He knows the stepping stones of your pleasure as well as you know yourself, knowing just when to suck, when to lick. He’s more relentless than any other man could hope to be, never needing to stop for breath, never succumbing to aching muscles. He maintains a pace that sends you careening so viciously towards release, you give a choking gasp when it hits you, your head thrown back against the couch as euphoric relief rolls through you in waves.

Homelander shrugs out from under your trembling thighs, his mouth slick and shining, eyes predator wide. You’re both panting, silently gauging the other. You’re first to break the standoff, his hunger infectious. You climb onto your knees and grab his shoulders, pushing his back to the couch, straddling him. He keens when you kiss him, an addictive sound that gives you a deceptive sense of power.

He murmurs your name in fervent repetition, dragging his mouth along your skin, inhaling you like a drug. You unbuckle his belt with the ease of experience, unzip his pants and slip your hand inside. Curling your fingers around his cock, you find it already hard and dripping in anticipation.

“Anything you want,” he breathes, the words coming between the prayer-like recitation of your name. “Money, diamonds, anything, I’ll make you a queen,” he says, eyelids fluttering at your touch. He pledges these things like an act of devotion, but you recognize this Faustian bargain for what it is. It will cost you your heart and soul.

“I’ll make you a god,” he moans at a particularly deft twist of your wrist.

Making you come will have to be enough for now.

“Fuck me,” you tell him breathlessly. “The way I like it.”

Like flipping a switch, the dazed pleasure in his eyes sharpens. The corners of his mouth tug, his upper lip twitches, eager tension slipping into his touch as his hands slide up your thighs, grasping your hips. His fingers sink in tight enough to bruise, despite the gentleness of his touch. The immeasurable power lurking within his unassuming frame is a novelty that never wears off, a thrill that shocks you to your core no matter how many times you experience it.

Like a vicious storm, he’s beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Caught in the eye of his maelstrom, the only thing left for you to do is weather him.

He guides you down onto his cock in one slow, agonizing pull. Even with his spit and your orgasm easing the way, it’s too much all at once. Relishing the aching burn of being split apart by him, you make a noise that gives him pause. You don’t let him stop. You brace your hands on his shoulders and lift off of him almost entirely before sinking back down deeper than you had before, wringing a moan from him in turn.

Homelander’s fingers dig securely into your back as your bodies slot together and find an old, familiar rhythm. By now he knows exactly the angle to take to best pleasure you. You let out a shaky sigh at the warmth that spreads through you, the pressure of your climax building, his heat sinking into you like the light of the sun itself.

You’re used to a god.

You cup his face and kiss him. You bite his lip until you should taste blood. You dig your nails into his skin so hard your knuckles ache. If he notices it, he’s only pleased by it.

“I’d move heaven and hell for you,” he swears between kisses, ripping the shirt from your body. The cool air hits your damp, hot skin like a shock. 

“I don’t want them,” you say, voice catching on one of his sharp and sudden thrusts. He’s close. You can feel it in the tightness of his muscles, in the erratic, merciless way he drives into you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice reedy, tight. He kisses down your chest, scrapes his teeth over the swell of your breasts. “They’re yours. It’s all yours. I’m yours.”

Those words should hit you like a prison sentence, but they don’t.

They make you come.

Homelander holds you tightly as he, too, breaks into pieces, filling you with light and heat. He chokes more promises against your skin, kisses the salt from your skin and licks it greedily from his lips. You spin in place in his arms, dizzy on your own orgasm, riding out the aftershocks with his cock throbbing against the quiver of your cunt.

For a long while there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths and the distant din of the television. The tremors wracking your body gradually fade, and the chill of the open air begins to set in.

Homelander holds you tight as the sweat on your skin cools. He kisses a trail from your neck to your shoulder, nuzzling there before he rests his head down, face tucked into the crook of your neck. You feel wrung dry, eyelids heavy. You card your fingers absently through his hair, body boneless against his. Your eyes ache from crying, but you don’t mind it. Strung out like this, the aches left in the wake of pain and pleasure both feel equally good.

“It’s late,” he says warmly, a smile in his tone. He sounds lovesick, the way you both did once upon a time. Back then, you thought you knew every dark corner of his insatiable heart. “We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you agree, voice frayed. He lifts you gingerly from his lap, adjusting to cradle your naked body to his chest. Despite how Homelander unspools himself before you, you’re always the one left reduced. Bare and vulnerable both physically and emotionally. You slip your arms around his neck as he stands, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I could take you to the tower,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine. “My bed’s bigger.”

“No,” you say, remembering a door you cannot reach, no matter how many times you grasp for it, and the god’s hands that sent you spinning. He’s already so capable of turning your home into a prison. You’re not sure you’d ever escape his penthouse. “I want mine.”

Perhaps the most terrible fact of all is that Homelander is neither a god nor a monster. 

He is simply a man without limitation.

“Sure,” he says, kissing your cheek. The touch lingers, dripping with his adoration. “Anything you want.”

So long as it includes him.

[hueseok]

can’t stop thinking about boyfriend!yoongi who in a way, found his match with you.

for decades, his oldest friends always teased him for being the textbook definition of ‘nonchalant’, labeling him as a stoic man who loved to pretend that he didn’t care about anything—even though in reality, there were always a few tells that made it obvious that he did.

he was the type of guy who made it seem like he didn’t care if you forgot about his birthday, but would send a joke afterwards saying that he was disappointed that you didn’t remember.

or the type who acted like it didn’t matter to him if the meal he worked hard on cooking tasted delicious for your taste buds, only to grin really wide as soon as you complimented him and uttered a string of praises afterwards.

it was an endearing quality of yoongi’s, a rather fascinating trait that also became the butt of the joke at times whenever the topic was his love life and his bad luck when it came to relationships.

“you can come off as emotionally unavailable,” hoseok told him over beer once. “ladies don’t like that. they want men who can tell them how special they are.”

“isn’t it enough that i show it?” yoongi asked, having just been dumped by the girl he was dating. “i mean, i drive her to work every single day. i fetch her from work whenever i can too. i buy her stuff if it’s necessary, like shampoo or paper towels.”

hoseok stared at him. “paper towels?”

“yeah.”

“wow. i take it all back. you are the most romantic man on the planet.”

yoongi rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. “she mentioned she was running out of them so i bought more for her.”

“are you her dad or something?”

“i heard ladies like a provider.”

“yes, but not in that sense. it’s more like… you get the bill whenever you’re having lunch or dinner at a restaurant, or buying her a bag she’s been eyeing, or paying for her nails when she gets them done. doing all of that without not being asked is the key aspect of it, really.”

“how do you know this stuff?”

hoseok shrugged. “i have an older sister,” he says. “also, i’m engaged to my girlfriend of 6 years. being in a relationship that long ought to teach you a lot.”

thanks to that conversation, yoongi began understanding what it really meant to be a great and affectionate boyfriend without sacrificing his rather reserved personality. he knew what the right gestures to do, what the right things to say, what the right gifts to buy—and he did all of that with utmost sincerity, genuinely wanting to be a better partner for his current girlfriend, which also happened to be you.

the funny thing, though?

you couldn’t seem to recognize the nice boyfriend things yoongi was doing and how much he improved compared to his last relationship.

you were just… independent, he thought. a strong woman who didn’t like to be coddled and didn’t like asking help from anyone regardless of how much you may be already struggling. he had a realization that you were naturally like this because of the stories you used to tell him that made him understand that you just weren’t used to relying on others, a trait that he didn’t have an issue with and sometimes even admired.

however, he couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t sometimes frustrating as well.

for example, just last week, the both of you had a semi-big fight because of how you constantly insisted on changing the broken lightbulb in your bedroom yourself even though yoongi was already telling you that he could do it instead. in the end, since you were stubborn as hell, you still tried changing it on your own but had a very minor injury due to falling off the stool you were standing on for extra height.

yoongi was furious when he found out, and you ultimately became furious because it seemed like he was being unfair to you, the negative energy impacting your mood and rationality that you didn’t get how he was more mad on the fact that you let your pride get to you than just asking for his damn help for the freaking lightbulb.

when the both of you calmed down and said your apologies, yoongi took your hands and looked directly in your eyes. “babe, you have to start depending on me,” he said.

the straightforwardness caught you off guard. “huh?”

“i mean…” you felt him squeeze your fingers softly, “i understand that you’re used to doing things all on your own… how you don’t like being treated like some baby… but that shouldn’t be the case with me, okay? i’m here to take care of you, to always help you with whatever you need.”

you opened your mouth, about to say something he knew was not going to align with his point, so he took the liberty to cut you off.

“i’m serious. you know what i’m talking about. let me take care of you, ____.”

“but—” you couldn’t continue with your sentence, a wave of emotions suddenly flooding you that made your throat tighten and voice quiver as you began speaking again— “how? i… i don’t—i just… you don’t need to. i don’t want to be a burden.”

yoongi gave you a look, a mixture of fondness and disbelief. “you? a burden?”

“yeah. you don’t need to take care of me.”

“i’m well aware that you’re a grown woman who doesn’t need taking care of.” he joked. “but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it. that’s why if i were you, i would just start depending on my poor boyfriend and learn how to be comfortable in being taken care of because it’s definitely how things are going to be now that he’s here.”

you snorted at the use of third person. “fine,” you sniffled, “okay, i’ll try to be better at asking for help next time.”

he sighed in relief, releasing your hands to instead engulf you in a tight embrace. “thank you, baby. i appreciate it a lot.”

****

the first time you willingly asked yoongi for a favor after that talk—regardless of how small and trivial it was—it still affected him big time.

“can you help me assemble the drawer i bought?” you asked him over dinner, ever so casual and nonchalant.

he almost dropped the chopsticks he was holding. “what?”

“i said, can you—”

“no, i heard that perfectly well. i’m just surprised at what i’m hearing.”

your lips twitched while your face visibly burned. “don’t start teasing me or else—”

“i’m not.” he laughed, a little too loudly than usual, before reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “i’m not, i swear. i’m just happy.”

“you’re happy because i’m asking for help?”

“i’m happy because you’re letting me take care of you,” he corrected. “it’s a bit overdue in my opinion but who am i to complain?”

you playfully shoved his hand away, which made yoongi laugh harder and lean towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, letting you know that your simple effort of trying to let him in meant so much more than words could ever say.

note. this blurb is unedited and has been in my drafts since december because it's always yoongi missing hours!!!!! but for real though, i wish yoongi is doing great and is always surrounded by good people who can give him the support he needs + remind him how loved he is :(

[classyrbf]

Hiii, i love your blog sosomuch. can i req like angst/comfort fic nanami? maybe nanami is like a bittttttt of an ass

ARE YOU STILL MINE! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...you feel as though your husband has become too distant from you and your marriage is hanging on by a thread

INFO...nanami x fem!reader, nanami is bit mean, mentions of cheating but no actual cheating, angst (obvi), reader is insecure with herself, mentions of divorce, comfort at the end, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thank you so much anon, I hope you enjoy your request!

At first it started out with him staying at work later than usual, coming home at strange times in the night where you had fallen asleep on the couch because you were waiting for him. He’d merely just glance at you, thinking you opted for the couch rather than the bed, walking into the room to go to bed instead of waking you. Then, he started talking less, being very distant, dry with his responses every time you’d brought up an interest of yours. He’d play with his food, moving it around on the plate like a picky child while humming responses. Then, you started not seeing him at all, every morning you opened your eyes he was gone and every night you couldn’t bear staying awake any longer than needed. And lastly, you began to feel alone, the house that you shared with your husband started to feel like you were now sharing it with a roommate. Was your marriage on the brink of divorce?

Another morning, another day of waking up to an empty bed. You rolled over, the sheet crinkled from where he slept but ultimately felt cold. It was a daily routine for you now, though you can’t grow accustomed to it no matter what you do. Its disappointing. Sad. All of your friends gush about their husbands bringing them gifts, going on vacation, and the cherry on top was soon one of your friends was having a baby. You sat there the whole time, staring off into the distance because you couldn’t remember the last time kento had even got you a gift, let alone uttered a word to you.

You stared at the diamond ring that adorned your finger, contemplating if this was at all really worth it anymore. Why stay in a marriage you weren’t happy in? But before making any rash decisions, you knew you needed to talk with him before anything. That’s if you even get the chance to. Lazily dragging your feet across the kitchen floor, you opened the fridge and realized he had left his lunchbox, leaving the food you made last night. You grabbed it, letting out a deep sigh. Should you even bring it? Yes, get out the house and get some fresh air. No, you’re just gonna waste your time and he won’t even eat it.

After fully waking up, you got dressed and grabbed his lunch box off of the counter. You walked past the mirror in the hall, keys in hand before you came to a complete stop to look at yourself. Jeans and a shirt with tacky sneakers that didn’t even match. And your eye bags just added onto it. God, you looked horrible. He wouldn’t want to see you like this. Especially not at his job.

With summer breeze, you were quick to change into a pretty sundress Nanami had gotten you last winter, along with some wedged heels to top off the look. And quickly, you ran to bathroom to apply makeup, nothing too heavy but just enough to make it look like you were at least taking care of yourself properly. You smeared the pink gloss along your lined lips, leaning towards the mirror to make sure you looked good. Still, you didn’t feel satisfied, but it’ll have to do.

You sat in the car for another minute, applying another coat of mascara before heading into the building. Nerves struck through your entire body, something similar to a first date. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, your own husband, that it now feels like seeing him for the first time. The thought made your frown as you stepped foot inside. You greeted the woman at the desk. “Hi, I’m here to drop my husbands lunch he forgot it at home. Nanami Kento.” You kindly smiled.

“Oh! You’re Mr. Nanami’s wife! Pleasure to meet you!” She bowed, smiling. “You’re free to head to his office.”

“Thank you!” Your heels click against the marble flooring, walking towards the elevator and pressing the button with a shaky hand. You wondered if he’d be surprised to see you, greet you with a kiss or a hug. You grew hopeful, imagining finally being in his embrace after so long. You smiled, stepping out of the elevator and headed down the hall towards his office.

On the other side of the door you could hear your husband laughing, talking with someone. But jealousy and insecurity buried a pit in your chest when you heard a woman laugh along with him. You barged into the office, taking site of the two sitting across the desk from one another. Your husbands eyes shot up towards you and the woman glanced over her shoulder with a confused look.

“Y/n?” He stood from his chair, walking over to you. “Sorry, this is my wife.” He awkwardly laughed, looking at the woman who was now standing.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nanami.” She bowed, a small smile on her lips.

“H-hello.” You shakily replied, looking between her and your husband.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered, brows furrowed. From his tone, he sounded slightly annoyed, like you had interrupted something important.

“You forgot your lunch I thought—”

“I already had lunch. No need.” He easily dismissed you, shaking his head. “I’m having an important discussion right now, so I’ll see you at home.” He walked you out of his office, shutting the door behind you. No goodbye. No kiss. Not even a hug. I’ll see you at home. What a joke.

You sat in the bath, bubbles surrounding you and scented candles lit on the sink. The diamond ring on your finger glistened under the dim light as you stared at it, a sour taste forming in your mouth when you remembered earlier today. Who was that woman? Clearly she worked there, but she was so much younger, prettier, and she was making Nanami laugh. He was in such a rush to push you out, claiming he had eaten already. God, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was cheating. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. Forget the talk.

You’ve forgotten how long you’ve been sitting in here now, but you were surprised when you heard the front door open. Reaching for your phone, it was only five at night, pretty early for him to be home nowadays. You just soaked in the bath, hearing his footsteps grow closer and closer until he reached your bedroom. Nanami, noticed the bathroom light, walking in and seeing you in the tub. “Hey, honey.” It’s felt like years since he’s called you any type of pet name, or anything in general.

“I was just getting out. I’ll finish after you’ve done doing what you need to do.” You reach for your towel on the rack, before Nanami stops you.

“Woah, woah, can I not join you?” He chuckled, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“No. Not in the mood.” You snatched the towel, wrapping it around your body before stepping out the tub, blowing out the scented candle and grabbing your phone. “Enjoy your shower.”

“Honey, if this is about earlier today, I apologize. I was interviewing her for a position—”

“God, you really haven’t noticed it?” You were at your breaking point, on the verge of tears from all the hurt you’ve been holding in for the last few months.

“I’m sorry I don’t know—”

“I want a divorce.” The words came out of your mouth as smooth as silk, leaving him shocked.

“Wait, wait! Sweetheart, talk to me first please?” He almost sounded desperate, reaching for you as you walked away into the bedroom. He quickly followed behind you. “Say something.”

“These last few months have been hell! You come home late, leave early, I don’t even see my own husband anymore. We don’t even talk to or at least text each other. And then I walk in, seeing you laughing and talking with some woman and god, the worst comes to my head because my husband hasn’t been mine for last three months! We haven’t kissed, hugged, or even had sex in so long. And then I get all dressed up for you and you push me out of there like I’m a stranger and then you come home and act like everything is okay! I’m not okay!” You scream, tears pooling in your eyes. “I feel so alone. So jealous and insecure.” You sob, turning away from him because he doesn’t deserve your tears, he doesn’t deserve to see you so weak and broken.

“Honey, I am so fucking sorry. God, please look at me. Baby.” His soft voice makes you want to rebel against everything you’re standing for right now, wanting to turn to him and hug him and kiss him. You feel his soft hands on your shoulder. “I am so sorry for making you feel less than what you truly are.”

“Are you cheating on me?” You managed to ask through tears.

“What?!” He says shocked. “No, fuck, of course not!” He couldn’t believe his ears, turning you around on his own, pulling you to look at him. He’s not surprised you think he’s having an affair with the way he’s been acting lately. But the truth is, he’s been distant because of a surprise. “I could never cheat on you. It disgusts me to even think about it, darling.” He caresses your face gently, holding it in his hands.

“Then what is it? Do you not love me anymore?” You hiccup, staring at him with teary eyes.

“I’m madly in love with you! I know these past few months, I’ve been horrible at showing it, treating you like you’re nothing when you’re everything. If I knew this would have such a horrible effect on you, I would’ve told you sooner instead of wanting to surprise you.” He let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. Disappointment within himself for putting you in such a position.

“What? What surprise?” You looked at him confused, browns knitting together. He sat you on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his as he kneeled in front you. “Kento…”

“I’ve been working so hard because I was planning our future. Saving up to move to Malaysia. I wanted it to be a surprise, but, I can’t keep seeing you like this. I’ve been working to save up more money, I’ve been searching for houses and talking to realtors on the phone. I’ve been exhausted, honey, but that’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you like an afterthought.” He kissed your palm. “Please forgive me. I am so, so, sorry.” He kissed your hand again, resting his head on your lap. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave me. Just hearing those words leave your mouth earlier scared the shit out of me. I can’t lose you. I love you so much.” He chokes back tears, holding you tightly.

You sit there shocked, completely and utterly shocked. While his actions were no excuse, you still can’t believe the reasoning behind it all. “Ken,” you mutter, running your fingers through his soft blonde hair. He kisses your hand once more, lifting his head to stare up at you.

“I’ll do anything if you just stay. I’ll do anything for you, sweetheart. I need you to know that.” Your heart pounds against your ribcage as he crawls up towards you, cupping your face. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so—mmph—sorry.” He kisses you between words, pressing his lips to yours. You haven’t felt his kisses in so long but it’s like they never left, feeling his firm grip on you as he kissed you so sweetly, each one filled with so much passion and desire.

“Baby, Ken, I forgive you. Okay?” You pull away. “Just…please, don’t ever do that to me again. I don’t care what it is, do not make me feel like I’m any less important. I can’t believe you’ve been working your ass off just so we could move to Malaysia, carrying the burden by yourself when you know I’m right here.” Your eyes search his.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I know I should’ve said something, I just…I don’t know. It’s doesn’t matter anymore, yeah? I’ve still got some extra work to do for the next two weeks until it’s settled, so don’t think I’m going back on my word. I swear I’m not.” He pecked your lips.

“Okay, I understand. Can I at least ask where in Malaysia?” You smiled, holding his hand.

“That, I am keeping a surprise.” He shook his head. “I just can’t wait to see the look on your beautiful face when you see it.” He quickly scooped you up in his arms, walking into the bathroom. “Shower with me? It’s been so long since we’ve—”

“Of course. I’ve missed you so much, Ken.”

His eyes glistened as he stared at you, smiling like an idiot in love. “You looked beautiful earlier today. I noticed you were wearing the sundress I had bought you. I can confidently say that it hugs you in the all right places. If there were no one in my office, I would have taken you right then and there, sweetheart.”

“Ken!” You shout in surprise, covering your mouth as you stifled back a laugh. “Please just get undressed so we can shower!”

“It’s good to see a smile back on your face.”

[levisjinchuriki]

always will be - toji fushiguro

summary: you know the key to a man's heart is through his stomach. toji is no exception

warning: fluff!!!!!!, kisses

written separately, but can be read as pt. 2 of more to love!

toji had always been intimidatingly fit. his sharp abs, toned arms, and broad chest reflected years of discipline and a lifestyle that demanded he stay in peak condition. it wasn’t something he flaunted—walking around shirtless in his own home was just how he lived. he didn’t think much of it, and neither did you.

after deciding to move in together, subtle changes crept into his life, ones he hadn’t anticipated. every night, he came home to a hot and ready meal. you always made sure it was his favorites, learning his preferences without him needing to say much. and the snacks—that was his biggest weakness. you were thoughtful enough to have something sweet or savory on hand, excusing it by saying “just in case you get hungry later.”

now, as toji pads around your shared home, shirtless as always, you can’t help but notice the differences in his physique. his abs are softer now, the faintest hint of a tummy forming where there used to be none. his arms, still strong, have lost some of their definition.

the late-night snacks you share, the hearty dinners you insist he eats after long days, and the lazy mornings spent curled up in bed instead of at the gym— all of it has added up.

at first, toji doesn’t think much of it. he’s always had a big appetite—one you happily indulge. but over the weeks, the changes become harder to ignore. his pants fit a little snug, and the shirts that once fit comfortably now cling to his chest and stomach.

toji glances down at his stomach, giving it an experimental poke. his finger sinks into a soft layer that wasn’t there before. he grunts in realization, muttering to himself “guess i’ve been slacking.”

but it’s not slacking—it’s comfort. love. the ease of sharing a life with someone who makes him feel whole.

“babe” your voice calls sweetly from the kitchen. “breakfast is ready!”. the smell of sugar and cinnamon hits him as he makes his way to the kitchen. and then he sees it– the biggest, gooiest cinnamon roll he’s ever laid eyes on, sitting proudly on a plate you’re setting on the table.

“you’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you?” he accuses with a smirk.

you glance up, genuinely confused. “what are you talking about?”. cooking for him has always brought you joy.  watching him devour every meal you set in front of him, finishing with a satisfied hum and going up for another serving makes you feel like you’re doing something right. he’s never complained once, and the empty plates he leaves behind are all the validation you’ve ever needed.

toji gestures at his waist, where the elastic band of his sweatpants sits noticeably tighter than it used to. “these don’t fit anymore”.

your cheeks flush. you know full well you’re the reason for the changes, but it’s not something you feel guilty about. if anything, it makes you proud.

“not my fault” you protest, crossing your arms with a playful pout. “you’re the one who goes back for thirds”. your eyes wander over him, noticing how his facial features have softened in the time since you moved in together. his jawline isn’t quite as sharp as it used to be, and there’s a slight fullness in his cheeks now—a small change, one you can’t help but adore.

it’s not just his body that’s softened. there’s a new ease to him, a sense of comfort and peace that wasn’t there before. it shows in the way his shoulders relax when he walks through the door, in the way his laughter comes more freely these days, and in the warmth of his teasing smirk now.

“i think it’s cute” you add softly, your lips curving into a warm smile. you mean it, too. toji might not have the razor-sharp physique he once did, but he’s still the man you fell in love with—strong, handsome, and completely yours.

“cute?” toji raises an eyebrow. “i’m supposed to be intimidating, not cute” he retorts, his deep voice tinged with mock offense. but even as he says it, he knows the truth—he’s gone soft being with you, in more ways than one.

“yeah” you tease, stepping within reach. you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “but you look happy”. 

you’re not wrong. for the first time in his life, toji feels truly content. he doesn’t have to keep his guard up or keep himself for the next battle. instead, he has you, a warm home, and a life that no longer feels like a constant fight for survival.

if it costs him a few extra pounds, he can live with it—because for the first time, it feels like he’s really living.

he smiles, the sincerity in his expression reaching his eyes. “i am happy” he says quietly.

your heart swells at his admission, warmth spreading through your chest. your own smile mirrors his as you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“you better be. or i’ll stop feeding you” you tease after pulling away.

toji’s eyes narrow, his brows drawing together in a warning. “don’t you dare”. 

before you can react, he pulls you into his lap, guiding your back against his chest with ease. his grip tightens around your waist, and you settle into him, feeling the heat of his body pressing against yours. you both share a few playful, soft and lingering kisses before toji reaches for his breakfast. 

he breaks off a piece and offers you the first bite, feeding it to you with such tenderness. his lips hover near yours as he leans in to steal a quick kiss, humming in appreciation of the sweet frosting that sticks to you. 

if you’re being honest– you’ve noticed the changes in him. the extra pounds that have slowly added up, the snug fit of his shirts, the softness in his once-defined features. but it’s not something that bothers you. in fact, it only makes you love him more. the softening of his body is a symbol of the comfort, the safety, and the ease he’s found with you.

you rest your head against him, loving that he’s comfortable with you, comfortable in this space you’ve created together. toji doesn’t have to be the intimidating, hardened man he was before. he’s allowed to relax, to soften in all the best ways.

“i think you look perfect” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

the edge of toji's smirk falters. perfect. it's not a word he’s used to associating with himself. toji knows his scars, his flaws, the rough edges he’s tried to smooth out over the years. perfect was for things he never thought he could have, for people he never thought he deserved.

but here you are, saying it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

toji tightens his grip around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. he doesn’t speak right away. instead, he lowers his head, his nose brushing softly against your temple, as he repeats the sentence in his head.

“you really think so?” he asks, his voice hesitant.

you tilt your head to meet his gaze, your smile warm and unwavering. “of course. you’ve always been perfect to me. always will be".

the sincerity in your voice is enough to ease his worries. he believes you, knowing you'd never lie to him. he doesn’t know how to respond—how to put into words what your belief in him does to his heart.

so instead, he leans in, brushing his lips against yours. he's gentle, even as he deepens it. it’s not just a kiss; it’s a thank you, a promise, and a confession all rolled into one.

“guess i can live with that” he murmurs against your lips, his smirk returning, softer now. there’s a warmth in his eyes, an acceptance of something he’s still trying to believe.

---

a/n: thank you for reading. happy new year!! <3 what are your resolutions this year?

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Hate your guts (pt 2)

~ bcs tumblr hates me i had to divide this into two parts, here is part 1

pairing: rockstar!hyunjin x rockstar afab!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, smut

wc: 26.6k

synopsis: hwang hyunjin, your sworn enemy. the person who finds and pushes all your buttons, annoys you and makes you angry. the person you're trying to avoid so badly, only to end up practically sharing a bed with him on tour. let the fun begin!

warnings: lots of swearing, smoking and alcohol, mentions of blood and throwing up, mild violence, multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (f and m), fingering, handjob, semi-public sex, spanking, creampies, mix of degradation and praise

a/n: so... tumblr kept screwing me bcs of the formatting and i'm never writing in google docs again🙃

The next morning as you woke up, you were confused. 

There was someone behind you, their arms wrapped around you as their breath kept hitting your neck. 

You almost started screaming as you squirmed but the arms tightened around you. 

“Relax, it’s just me.” 

“Hyunjin! What the hell?” you whined, trying to get out of his grasp.

“I had a nightmare so I came back.” he nuzzled into you and you tried to move away, realizing then that his leg was thrown over you and you were essentially caged.

“How did you get into my room?” you questioned. 

“I stole your key when you threw me out.” Hyunjin answered nonchalantly. 

“You little criminal.” you frowned, trying to get out of his deadly clutch again. 

“Let go, Hyunjin.” 

“Mm… no.” 

“Hyunjin, I’m warning you.” 

You felt his smile against the back of your neck. 

“Let me hold you for a little while.” he said. 

“You held me against my will since you sneaked back in.” you fought against him.

“Stop squirming!” Hyunjin almost laid down on top of you as you whined. 

Thankfully, a knock on the door saved you. 

“Let me get the door at least.” 

Hyunjin groaned as the knocks persisted before letting you go.

“Fine, you’re free.” he pouted.

You opened the door and Brendon was on the other side.

“Oh, hey B.” you said. 

“Hey. Is Hyunjin in there with you? We can’t find him.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s here.” you confirmed. 

“Oh.” Brendon smirked. 

“It’s nothing like that!” you felt the need to defend yourself instantly. 

“Mhm. Sure. Well, Aiden and I are gonna get some breakfast so you guys can join us if you want.”

“Sure, we’ll be down soon.” 

“See ya.” Brendon winked before you closed the door. 

You made your way back to your bed and the sight made you melt. 

In your rush to get away from Hyunjin and open the door, you didn’t see he brought his teddy bear with him, the plushie friend leaned on the other pillow that was untouched.

Hyunjin was sleeping on your side, hogging your pillow and blanket like there wasn’t enough space, and what’s worse he didn’t have a shirt on and your face became profusely red in a millisecond.

“Hyunjin, wake up, we’re gonna get breakfast with the guys.” you shook him lightly. 

He muttered but never moved. 

“Hyunjin! Wake up!” you shook him again. 

“Stop calling me Hyunjin!” he turned towards you suddenly and you laughed at his cute swollen face and his disheveled hair. 

“That’s your name, silly.” you said. 

“Give me a nickname. Hyunjin sounds too formal. Unless you’re moaning it.” he smirked and you decided to put use to the other pillow and smack him with it. 

“Ow.” he whimpered. “Did you see that teddy? She’s abusing me.”

“Let’s go.” you rolled your eyes as he pouted.

Getting breakfast with Aiden and Brendon proved to be a mistake as they teased you constantly. 

“You two finally shacking up, huh?” Aiden smirked. 

“We are far from shacking up.” you grimaced and Hyunjin laughed. 

“You’ve warmed up to me, admit it.” Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows as he leaned in close to your face. 

“Not admitting anything unless a lawyer is present.” you smirked. 

“Fine, don’t.” he smirked back. 

“Actually, I went to law school shortly so-”

“Brendon, shut the fuck up.” you said as everyone laughed.

“How about we hit the town?” Aiden suggested after breakfast and everyone agreed. 

You spent the day sightseeing (and getting stopped by fans occasionally) and Hyunjin insisted on taking as many pictures as he could to capture the happy memories. 

By the time you got to your room, it was almost night and you were exhausted. 

“Oh, hello there.” you saw Hyunjin’s teddy on your bed, which meant he probably left it to have a reason to come back to your room. 

You were expecting him to come in any minute, but as you showered and laid down, it was quiet. 

You almost fell asleep, the buzzing of your phone startling you. 

asshole<3: hey pretty, are you asleep

you: not anymore, what do you want

asshole<3: put your bathing suit on (or don’t) but i’m taking you to a night swim in the pool

you: no you’re not, i’m going back to sleep.

asshole<3: no we’re going swimming baby. i’m in front of your door

you: why don’t you just come in? breaking and entering seems like your thing. 

It was quiet for a moment, before you heard the keycard beeping and the door opening. 

“It’s not breaking and entering when I have a key, just so you know.” Hyunjin walked in nonchalantly, throwing his towel over the chair. 

“Did you get a spare key for my room?” you sat up in your bed, turning the lamp on. 

“Yeah, I told the desk lady you’re my girlfriend. She wouldn’t budge in the beginning but I charmed my way into getting the key.” he smiled smugly as he sat down next to you. 

“Of course you did.” you rolled your eyes. 

“Aw, were you hugging teddy?” Hyunjin smiled, pointing to his friend who was laid next to you. “I’m so glad you two are getting along.”

“He looked lonely.” you shrugged. 

“Don’t I look lonely too?” Hyunjin pouted and you made a disgusted face. 

“Please, don’t do that.” you got up as Hyunjin’s eyes followed you. 

“Are you gonna put your bathing suit on?” 

“Yes, in the bathroom.” you rummaged through your things and Hyunjin chuckled.

“I mean, we can go skinny-dipping too.” he added. 

“Yeah right.” you gave him a look before making your way to the bathroom. 

The two of you finally made your way to the pool, sneaking around as it was late. 

It made you feel like you were a couple of teenagers looking for a place to fuck. 

There was something in the air, you felt it as Hyunjin walked close to you, his eyes wandering to you constantly.

When you made it to the pool, both of you stripped without hesitation and Hyunjin’s lips parted as he started eye-fucking you openly. 

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” you smirked. 

“Not if I put my mouth to some better use.” he smirked back and you rolled your eyes as you made your way towards the water. 

“Come on, you invited me here, what are you waiting for?” you said and Hyunjin followed you, both of you getting in. 

“Fuck, it’s cold.” you hissed and Hyunjin floated closer to you. 

“We’ll warm up.” he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle.

“I thought we were swimming.” you craned your neck, trying to look at him. 

“We are.” Hyunjin nosed your cheek, before brushing his lips against your skin briefly, his lip ring scratching you pleasantly. 

“H-Hyunjin.” you turned around as he released you and his face was unreadable. 

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing.” he said, a sly smile spreading on his face as he lifted his hand and splashed you. 

“Asshole!” you laughed, splashing him back. 

“Ooh, I haven’t heard that one in a while.” Hyunjin bit on his lip, playing with his piercing shortly as he got closer again. 

You squealed and swam away so he started swimming after you. 

“You know I used to compete in swimming? It’s futile trying to escape.” Hyunjin said as he kept coming closer. 

You screamed, laughing as he grabbed your ankle and pulled you into him before he cornered you against the edge of the pool. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now. You can push me away if you don’t want it and I won’t bother you again.” he started, his hand touching your waist tentatively. “Unless you ask of course.” he smirked. “The point is, if you let me kiss you it’ll be hard for me to control myself.”

“How so?” you smirked, your hand touching his arm, as you ran it up to his shoulder. 

“You can’t be that blind, y/n. I’ve always wanted you.” hearing him say that made you shiver in anticipation as your bodies got even closer. 

“Oh yeah? Show me.” you teased, brushing your lips against his. 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened for a moment as he squeezed your waist before he gave you his famous smirk. 

You leaned in and met him in the middle as your lips pressed against each other’s, his lip ring adding a satisfying pressure as he slowly moved his lips against yours. 

The tip of his tongue swiped over your bottom lip and you let him in as his hands slid down to your lower back. 

His tongue moved against yours, his piercing scraping you and adding a spark you never felt before while kissing someone. 

Hyunjin knew what he was doing, his kiss was deliberate and erotic, not what you expected of him as he claimed every inch of your mouth with his tongue. 

Chills ran up your spine when he pressed his body into yours, your legs wrapping around him automatically.

Hyunjin pushed you into the cold tiles of the pool but you didn’t care when you felt his dick pressing right into your core. 

Both of you moaned into the kiss as your nails lightly scraped his shoulders and his fingers came up to the strap of your bathing suit. 

He pulled on it, making it unravel as your breasts fell out for him to play with. 

“Whoops.” he smirked as he leaned back, looking at you with hooded eyes. 

“Nipple piercings would look perfect on you.” he said as he grabbed your tits, massaging them and playing with your nipples.

“Oh really?” you smirked and he nodded, mirroring your smirk as he pinched your nipples. 

You whimpered, grinding against him and he squeezed your breasts, he was grunting as he moved against you, the water splashing around. 

He leaned in, one hand on the back of your head as his lips attached to your skin, leaving kisses on your neck before he licked at it, his piercing tickling you a little. 

“That feels interesting.” you chuckled as he pressed himself closer to you, his skin against yours, making you feel even hotter. 

“What, my piercings?”

“Yeah.” 

“They’d be even more interesting if you’d let me eat you out.” he smirked as you traced his pretty tattoos with your fingers. 

“What, here?” you chuckled. 

“Not here. We can go back to your room.” he bit on his lip as he searched your eyes. 

Well fuck it, you thought, you were already this far, your mind still not realizing the fact that you’re making out with Hwang Hyunjin, your number one enemy or so he used to be. 

“Sure. In a minute.” you smirked, your hand tangling in his hair as you pulled a little making him hiss and bite on his lip. 

You leaned in, wrapping your lips around his adam's apple and Hyunjin whimpered as you sucked on it. 

“Mm, baby.” he whined as you swiped your tongue on it before kissing and lightly biting on his neck. 

He kept grinding against you and your pussy throbbed for him. 

His hands ran down to your ass as he grabbed you and held you in place, grinding faster against you as you kissed the tattoos on his shoulder and arm, your lips then traveling to his collarbone and chest. 

“You’re driving me crazy, princess.” he almost growled, gripping your ass and making you moan against his wet skin. 

“Am I?” your hand snaked between your bodies, until you found his bulge and gripped it. 

“Fuck!” Hyunjin grunted, fucking into your hand immediately but before he could enjoy it further, you decided to tease him and move your hand away.

“We can go now.” you whispered, turned on beyond your mind as Hyunjin clumsily helped you put your bathing suit on. 

The two of you quickly grabbed your stuff, still half wet, you made your way to your room as Hyunjin held your hand, both of you giggling like two horny teengers.

As soon as you walked in, Hyunjin tossed his towel carelessly on the floor, grabbing your wrists and pinning you to the door before you could even react. 

His thigh slotted between your legs and you whimpered as he flexed his muscle.

“Look at you. Falling apart already and I haven’t even touched your pussy.” he smirked and that feeling of annoyance he always used to give you turned you on in this moment, making you feel even more annoyed that you fell under his charm. 

You squirmed but it only resulted in your core grinding against his hard thigh. 

“Asshole.” you whined and he tightened the grip on your wrists, pressing his thigh harder into your throbbing core as he started moving it against you.

“I am.” he chuckled, leaning in and kissing you more passionately than before, his lips forceful against yours. 

You hated admitting it but you were putty in Hyunjin’s arms and he knew it as he smirked against your lips before pushing his tongue inside and swirling it around yours. 

He swallowed every moan as he kept stealing your breath, your pussy dripping with arousal and need. 

“Let go of my hands.” you whimpered as he left kisses on your jaw and neck. 

“Why?” he smirked against your skin, dragging his tongue on the column of your neck before he sank his teeth into your sensitive spot, right below your ear. 

“Ah!” you moaned, jolting into him as he sucked a mark on your skin. “Because I wanna touch you.” you answered his question. 

“Hm, should I let you?” he chuckled against your collarbone, brushing his lips there. 

“I know you want me to.” you whispered in his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek and Hyunjin let out a shaky breath before finally releasing your wrists. 

Your hands tangled in his hair instantly as you continued making out desperately, grinding against each other. 

Hyunjin’s large hands traveled all over your body, exploring and groping you, his lips and tongue lazily dragging on the outline of your breasts to your stomach as he kneeled before you. 

You looked at him through hooded eyes as he grabbed your leg and hooked it over his shoulder. 

“I thought you said you’d only kneel for me once.” you smirked and he smirked back at you. 

“Guess I was wrong.” he said before mouthing at your thigh, licking and biting, driving you crazy as he came closer to your core. 

Hyunjin grabbed the straps of your bathing suit, undoing them quickly and leaving you bare. 

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy.” he groaned, pushing his face into your core immediately. 

“Ah!” you jolted when he licked a long stripe on your pussy, his piercing catching onto your clit deliciously. 

“Tastes sweet too.” he smirked at you as you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

He spread you apart with his fingers, wrapping his plump lips around your clit and sucking on it. 

“Oh god.” you groaned, banging your head against the door as he slurped on your pussy. 

Your thighs trembled as he swiped his tongue over your clit repeatedly, making sure that his piercing gives you stimulation too. 

You were holding back for some reason and Hyunjin seemed to sense it as he pulled back and looked up at you.

“Pull on my hair as much as you need to, sweetheart. You can pull, scratch, bite, I love it.” he smirked. “You can even slap me again if you’d like.” 

You gripped his hair harshly, making him whimper as you brought his face closer to your core again.

“Keep going.” you said and Hyunjin listened immediately, his tongue diving between your folds to slurp up your juices. 

The sounds his mouth was creating as he kept making out with your wet pussy were downright sinful and you were so lost in it, your head thrown back as you shook and kept pulling on his hair that you didn’t even notice Hyunjin had pulled his swim trunks down, his hand wrapped around his dripping cock as he stroked himself.

Hyunjin was loud and sloppy, constantly moaning into you like he was enjoying this even more than you did. 

Your juices mixed with his saliva dripped down his chin while he kept eating you out like a man starved, like your pussy is the best meal he’s ever had. 

“I’m gonna cum!” you whimpered, grinding against his face, his nose pressing perfectly into your clit. 

“Cum in my mouth baby, please!” Hyunjin whined and you shook as your orgasm washed over you, spilling on his tongue and chin. 

“Mm.” he moaned and licked you up. 

“Bed. Now.” he stood up, wiping his chin with the back of his hand and it took you a moment to realize he was completely naked. 

“Oh.” you stared at his dick, salivating at the thought of having him inside you, he was so long and pretty, curved just a little, his tip red and dripping with pre cum. 

He was perfect, and you needed him in any way you could get him. 

“Princess.” Hyunjin chuckled at your obvious drooling. 

He was growing impatient so he scooped you up before you could protest, getting rid of your bra in the process. 

“I need to have you right now.” he rasped, throwing you on the bed and quickly turning you on all fours as he climbed over you and pressed you into the mattress. 

You whimpered pathetically as he held you down with one hand to your back, your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing, waiting to be filled up to the brim. 

“Oh. Teddy.” Hyunjin noticed his friend still chilling on your bed. “This is not for your eyes.” he grabbed the bear and stood up, putting it in the chair and turning him around. 

“Sorry, son.” he added as you stared up at him from the bed and chuckled. 

“He can still hear us, you know.” you said as Hyunjin climbed back up on top of you.

“Mm, I hope everyone does. Don’t want you holdin’ back. I want you to be as loud as you can.” Hyunjin smirked above you, lifting your middle up and snaking his hand around to play with your sensitive clit. 

“Yeah? Then fuck me as hard as you can, Hyunjin.” you moaned, pushing back into him, trying to get him closer. 

“I hope you know what you’re asking for.” 

You felt the tip of his cock prodding at you and you gasped as he slowly pushed in, the tip breaching your entrance and spreading you to take him.

“Oh my god, fuck!” you moaned as he gripped your hips and kept stretching you, pushing more and more in until he bottomed out, his cock finding a warm home inside your clenching pussy.

“You’re so tight, baby.” his eyes rolled back as he pulled out to the tip, then pushed back into you harshly, making you whimper loudly as you fisted the sheets beneath you. 

“Yeah.” he moaned as he started fucking you with a semi-fast pace immediately, his hand coming up to push your face into the mattress. 

“Fuck yeah, take it. Take it like a good slut.” Hyunjin groaned as you whimpered and gasped while he rocked his hips into you hard. 

“H-Hyunjin, ah!” you whimpered when his tip hit the spot and he angled his hips to keep hitting into it hard, the sound of skin slapping skin filling up the room together with the sounds your pussy was making while he kept stuffing you with his cock. 

You couldn’t even hold on and you collapsed down as Hyunjin kept fucking you harshly into the mattress, pulling on your hair and giving you a few harsh spanks that made your ass red instantly. 

You kept babbling nonsense as he fucked you like a mad man, gripping your breasts or your waist, his hands couldn’t decide where to stay ‘cause he wanted all of you. 

Your orgasm shook your whole body, from your head to your toes as you creamed around his throbbing cock for what seemed like the longest time, your pleasure kept prolonging as he brushed against your spot constantly. 

Hyunjin smacked your ass again, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as you whimpered. 

“Fuck, she’s trying to milk me, isn’t she? You want that, baby? You want my cum?” 

“Y-yes, I want it!” you whined. 

“Yeah? Do you really want it?” Hyunjin smirked, teasing you, the annoying bastard. 

“Yes I do!” you moaned as he kept his pace, the weight of his body pressing you down as his breath hit your cheek. 

“Beg for it, darling.” he whispered in your ear and you groaned in annoyance, your fingers digging into the bed. 

You bit on your lip, trying to disobey him as much as you could and he chuckled darkly, grabbing your hands and pinning your wrists on your lower back. 

“You don’t like the way the tables have turned, hm? I don’t hear you begging. Do you want me to stop?” Hyunjin slowed down, his free hand traveling down your thigh and then back up towards your waist, making you shiver. 

“P-please…” you whimpered quietly, losing your mind and dignity. 

“Please what, princess?”

“P-please… Cum inside me, Hyunjin.” you moaned and he chuckled again, picking up speed as he released your hands only to grip your hips. 

You were almost screaming from the strength he was fucking you with, his hips stuttering as he dug his nails into your flesh. 

“Louder baby, louder.” he groaned, you could feel droplets of his sweat falling down and hitting your back. 

You moaned louder and you were sure people could hear you outside but you didn’t care as you came around his length again, moments later Hyunjin finally exploded inside you, filling you up with his warm cum. 

“Fuck, y/n…” he whimpered as he shook above you, pulling out as his arms wrapped around you.

He held you for a few quiet minutes while both of you were trying to catch your breath and calm down. 

He left little kisses on your shoulder as your brain became less foggy and the reality of what happened between you settled in, making your heart skip a beat and then continue to beat fast. 

Hyunjin finally rolled over and got up and you laid still, feeling a little embarrassed and self-conscious.

You remembered swearing to yourself once that you’d never sleep with him or have any kind of relationship with someone who seemingly never takes any of those things seriously but here you were. 

At least you could admit to yourself that he was the best fuck you ever had. 

Hyunjin came back with a warm wet cloth and a water bottle. 

“Let me clean you up.” he said and you looked up at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” you answered dismissively and Hyunjin raised his eyebrow. 

“Drink some water.” he said as you sat up. 

God, he was more beautiful than ever.

His hair disheveled, his body sweaty and on display for you, a loopy smile on his face as he sat there naked, vulnerable, yours. 

“You wanna shower together?” he asked as you put the bottle down. 

“You know this changes everything between us?” you ignored his question and his smile fell. 

“Of course I do.” he touched your cheek, leaning in to kiss you. 

His lips were addicting and you couldn’t push him away. 

“Now let’s get in that shower.”

-

“Hyunjin. Y/n. Come to my room this instant.” Anthony sounded furious when he called you, just as you were eating some breakfast you had ordered after the shower. 

“Can we at least finish eating?” Hyunjin whined with his mouth full, his lips pouty. 

“Now!” Anthony yelled, making Hyunjin jolt as you looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Y’all are in big trouble!” you heard Aiden yell in the background. 

“We’ll be right there.” you said and Anthony hung up. 

“Wow, he sounds really mad.” Hyunjin frowned. 

“Let’s go find out what we did.” 

Anthony’s room wasn’t too far from yours and you were there in a matter of minutes. 

“You two!” Anthony looked like he was fuming, smoke coming out of his ears, his face bright red as his chest rose up and down deeply. 

Ana stood behind him like an angry mother, her hands on her hips as she tapped her foot. 

Aiden and Brendon were sitting on the bed, looking sulky. 

“What is going on?” you asked. 

“Have you two lost your fucking mind?!” Anthony seethed. 

“What did we do?!” Hyunjin’s tone got defensive immediately.

“They didn’t even look at social media.” Ana shook her head. 

“This is what you did!” Anthony gave you his phone and you gasped when you saw it. 

Someone was on the balcony above the hotel pool last night, taking pictures of you and Hyunjin. 

There were hundreds of articles, even a video circling the net where the two of you were going at it, making out passionately and touching each other.

The only lucky thing was that the guy didn’t manage to get any audio. 

You quickly grabbed your phone and saw that you had millions of tags on the pics and comments people left on your posts. 

Most of them were hate comments directed towards you, calling you a whore and lots of other endearing names, others were of horny people saying that Hyunjin was a lucky bastard getting to fuck someone like you. 

They were all demeaning comments, even the ones that seemed to be on ‘your side’. 

Your eyes welled up with tears as you started panicking. 

Hyunjin looked furious. 

“Who is this guy? Is he still in the hotel? ‘Cause if he is, my friends here,” he lifted his fists. “,will come pay him a nice fucking visit.” 

“There’s no point, Hyunjin. It’s already done. This could damage the band, it’s practically a sex tape.” Ana said. 

“I don’t feel so good.” you quickly sat down on the sofa and Hyunjin was on your side immediately. 

“Fuck, this is my fault!” he said frustratingly. “I made you come to the pool with me. I should’ve never done that.”

“You couldn’t predict this Jinnie, it’s not your fault. At least your shoulders were covering up my tits.” you shrugged, swallowing your tears. 

Hyunjin smiled at you as you looked up at him. 

“Something funny?” you asked. 

“No, you just called me Jinnie.” he swooned, his arm wrapping around you. 

“Ew, get a room.” Brendon acted like he was throwing up. 

“Shut up.” Hyunjin warned his bandmate before looking back at you. 

“I knew I’d get under your skin one day.” he whispered in your ear, smirking as he nosed your cheek before pressing a kiss to it. 

“Yeah, yeah. That really ended up biting me in the ass.” you rolled your eyes, shivering a little. 

“Okay, do that later. We need to figure out what to do about this!” Anthony said. 

“Nothing.” Hyunjin shrugged. “I don’t care about it. They didn’t see anything they shouldn’t have. In those pics and videos you can only see my back and the side of y/n’s face. Nothing I’m worried about. I don’t care if they know about us getting together. They’d find out eventually anyways. I’m just glad they didn’t see what’s for my eyes only.” he smirked at you and you smacked his arm annoyingly. 

“Is it now?” 

“Yes, it is.” he nodded. 

“What do you think, y/n?” Ana asked. 

“I agree with Hyunjin to an extent. Lots of celebs had scandals like this and nothing happened to them. I mean, we can still continue with our tour normally, right?”

“Well, we have to. The next show is in 6 hours.” Anthony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t do this shit again. I will deal with the guy who took these and everything else. The four of you just focus on the show tonight and no more fucking in public places.”

“Is that a challenge?” Hyunjin smirked and you smacked him again. 

“Ow!” he whined and you rolled your eyes. 

You were still trying to process that all your fans have seen you kissing Hyunjin. 

-

It was almost time for the show and Hyunjin insisted on getting ready in your room, dragging his luggage there. 

Ever since last night, you couldn’t pry him off of you. 

Currently, he was sitting on your bed shirtless, all of his makeup and skincare products thrown haphazardly in front of him as he rummaged through them. 

You quickly grabbed your phone, taking a few pics of his cute pouty thinking face as he sifted through his eyeshadows. 

You pressed play on your phone, now filming a video. 

You zoomed in on his face and snorted.

“Here we can see the last brain cell of Hwang Hyunjin trying to plan out a suitable makeup look for the show tonight.” you said and he looked up, his face breaking into a smile. 

“And here we can witness the last brain cell of y/n l/n focusing so hard on me.” he said into the camera, puffing his chest out.

“Riiiiight.” you zoomed in on his nipples. 

“Are you filming my tits?” he asked, chuckling. 

“Maybe.” you smirked at him. 

“And I’m the deviant one. Can you believe this teddy?” he looked at his plush friend who was chilling on the bed next to him. 

You turned the camera to the bear as Hyunjin grabbed its head and shook it left and right in disapproval. 

You turned it off with a giggle, putting your phone aside as you stood up and made your way towards the bed. 

Hyunjin looked up at you as you neared him. 

You sat behind him, your hands on his back instantly. 

“What are you thinking of doing?” you asked, lips pressing into his flower tattoos. 

“I’m thinking you’re gonna make me hard again if you keep touching me.” he looked back at you. 

“Are you that easy?” you smirked as you kept kissing him tentatively, your hands on his waist, caressing him. 

“For you, definitely.” he said, grabbing a small eyeshadow palette. 

“Good to know.” you smirked as you kept kissing him, your hands roaming on his abs. 

“Do you think I should get a belly button piercing?” he asked as you touched him, your fingers dipping down to his happy trail as you played with it, making him shiver. 

“Why not? It would look sexy on you.” you answered, moving his hair to the side so you could attach your lips to his neck. 

“You really want to distract me, huh?” he let out a breath, trying to get his smoky eye look right while you teased him. 

“Mhm.” you kept kissing, licking and biting on him while he put his makeup on. 

“Shit!” he exclaimed, jolting as your hand snaked down to palm his growing bulge. 

“I almost poked my eye out!” he whined, but still leaned into you. 

“Shh. Concentrate.” you smirked against his skin, your hand traveling into his pants as you gripped him. 

“Naughty girl.” he smirked, looking at your lustful expression in the mirror he held up while finishing up his look. 

“Oh yes.” you grinned, taking his cock out and stroking him. 

“Y/n.” Hyunjin whined. “W-what do you think?” he turned a little, showing you his finished look as you played with his slit. 

“Pretty.” you smirked, your other hand caressing his thigh before you grabbed his balls unexpectedly. 

“Ah!” he moaned, leaning back into you as he tossed the eyeshadow palette aside. 

You sped up and Hyunjin gave in so easily that you were impressed, he was completely putty in your embrace, letting you have your way with him. 

“Wait! Turn my son around, please.” he said and you chuckled, squeezing him and earning a groan from him. 

“He can’t see anyways. My back is turned towards him.” you looked back at the teddy as your hand traveled up to Hyunjin’s nipples, playing with them as you continued stroking him. 

“O-okay.” he moaned, lifting up and fucking into your hand. 

“You like it, hm?” you nibbled on his ear as he thrashed against you. 

“Y-yeah. Don’t stop, oh my god!” he grunted, gripping at your thighs as you pressed into his back, your legs wrapped around him, your hand skillfully playing with his throbbing cock. 

“You wanna cum, Jinnie?” you giggled. 

“Yes, please.” 

“You’re cute when you beg.” you bit on his neck.

“Shut up!” he groaned but continued fucking up into your hand, desperately chasing his high. 

You laughed, licking at the new bruise you created on his neck as you doubled your efforts. 

Hyunjin mewled, his legs trembling as you jerked him off fast, flicking your wrist. 

“Fuck!” he groaned as he dug his nails into your thighs, his length twitching in your hold, as he spilled all over your hand and his stomach. 

You chuckled, kissing his cheek and jawline. 

“That was unexpected and hot.” he looked back at you and you shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises like that.” smirking, you got up. 

“Well get dressed, we’re on in less than an hour.” you said smugly, enjoying the way you had Hyunjin literally in the palm of your hand. 

“Already?! Fuck!” he got up, running to the bathroom looking silly and almost tripping over his sweatpants as you laughed at him. 

“Laugh now, until I get back at you, darling!” he yelled out.

“Can’t wait!” you shook your head with a smile, packing the rest of your stuff. 

Everyone gathered at the bus, the roadies helping with putting your stuff back in as they had already unloaded everything needed for the venue. 

Hyunjin grabbed your wrist, scaring you for a moment as you were looking at your phone. 

“What?” you looked up at him, seeing his mischievous expression. 

“Come here for a sec.” he led you away, tucking both of you behind the parked bus. 

“Wha-” he stopped you as he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours.

You melted into him, wrapping your hands around his waist, bringing him closer as your bodies pressed together.

“Our good luck kiss.” he said when you parted. 

“Sure.” you giggled, kissing him once again. “Let’s go before they get mad at us.” you added. 

“Just so you know…” his hand traveled down as he cupped your pussy through your pants, making you gasp in shock as you gripped at his shoulders. 

“I will have my way with you later.” he smirked, kissing your forehead like he wasn’t saying nasty shit to you.

“If I let you.” you pushed him a little but he just chuckled. 

“Oh, you’ll be begging for it, sweetheart.” 

-

The show was fun and crazy like always, the fans that were there didn’t seem to care about the ‘sex tape’ scandal, everyone was enjoying the performance. 

Hyunjin was even more energetic than usual, jumping up and down, dancing, screaming and doing all sorts of crazy shit. 

He made a point of looking back at you multiple times with the biggest smile on his face. 

In the middle of the performance, Hyunjin took his tanktop off as it was clinging to his sweaty body and getting in the way, so he tossed it into the audience and people almost beat each other up to grab it. 

You smirked to yourself, they may have his sweaty shirt but you had all of him last night. 

Hyunjin flirted with the fans of course, this time coming down closer to them and letting them touch him. 

You would lie if you said it didn’t make you mad, you were realizing it just then; you wanted Hyunjin all to yourself. 

Your mind managed to spiral even on stage while you played the familiar grooves automatically, and flashes of Hyunjin with different girls ran through your mind. 

What if this was just a fling?

What if he didn’t look at this seriously?

You didn’t want to fall for him but in your mind you knew it was already too late. 

You hoped he wasn’t just using you because having your heart broken for what feels like the hundredth time in your life isn’t something you’d want to go through again. 

Especially not with him. 

When the show ended and you ran backstage, Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, spinning you around as you squealed.

“Put me down, I’m gonna puke!” you whined, feeling dizzy. 

He put you down before crashing his lips against yours. 

“I want you so bad right now.” he muttered against your lips as you touched his chest. 

“You should wash off the fans’ handprints first.” you pushed him and he chuckled. 

“Aw, are you jealous?” he grinned. 

“No, you’re just gross.” 

“Liar. You’re so jealous.” 

“Am not.”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m all yours.” he smirked. 

“Sure.” you said and Hyunjin frowned, pursing his lips. 

“Let’s go party, assholes!” Aiden appeared, all giddy from the show, stopping Hyunjin mid-thought. 

“Yeah, and put on a shirt, Hwang!” Brendon winked with a smirk. 

You were dragged to an exclusive afterparty without your consent but you were thirsty anyways so you ordered a beer. 

During the evening as you mingled, you lost sight of Hyunjin. 

“Where’s Hyunjin?” you asked Aiden as he joined you at the bar. 

“Beats me.” he shrugged. 

You were about to look for him when he walked in, stumbling as some random girl held onto his wrists. 

“What the hell?” you muttered, anger overtaking you instantly. 

She was all over him, and you noticed he was trying to push her away but was too drunk. 

You made your way towards them when suddenly she slapped him across the face and you gasped, boiling with anger. 

“Hey, bitch.” you said as you stood next to Hyunjin and her eyes widened when she saw you. 

“Y/n! You’re here!” Hyunjin clung onto you immediately, his face dazed. 

You ignored him as you lifted your hand up, dealing a strong slap to the girl’s face. 

She gasped, holding onto her cheek as she almost tripped over her feet.

“Touch him again and I’ll break your fake nose.” 

“Woah!” Hyunjin stumbled as he held onto your arm. “She’s serious, I wouldn’t mess with her.” he said to the girl who quickly scrambled away.

“Baby. You defended me.” he pouted at you, trying to kiss you. 

“Oh my god, Hyunjin. You’re shitfaced. Come on, we’re leaving, you need some air.” you led him out, quickly telling Aiden you’ll be by the bus. 

“Why did she even slap you?”

“I might’ve called her a whore?” he grimaced. “She tried to kiss me and I said no! I have a girlfriend! I meant you.”

“Yes, I understand Hyunjin.” you shook your head, your face heating up. 

“That was so hot how you slapped her.” Hyunjin nuzzled into you as he hugged you from the back while you were trying to unlock the bus door so you could find a water bottle for him. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm. My cheek hurts though. Will you kiss it better?” he asked, burying his face into your hair. 

“Sure. As soon as you sober up a little.” you said, finally opening the door as the two of you climbed in. 

“You know what else hurts?” Hyunjin smirked, leaning on the table and almost falling down. 

“What?” you raised your eyebrow, grabbing a water bottle out of the fridge.

“My dick.” he grinned. 

“Just shut up and drink some water.” you shoved the water in his hand as he giggled. 

You were annoyed, wondering if you were overthinking things and Hyunjin acting all nonchalant made you feel even more angry. 

That kind of attitude he always had bugged you, it seemed as if he took everything in stride, as if he wasn’t afraid of losing anything, as if he took nothing seriously, like nothing mattered to him other than himself. 

“What’s wrong?” he pouted, trying to hug you.

And you hated how he could read you like a book. 

“Nothing. We’ll talk when you’re sober.” you said, folding your arms on your chest. 

“Are you mad at me?” he swallowed. 

“I don’t know.” you shrugged. 

“You don’t know?” he tilted his head as you avoided his eyes. 

“I’m mad at myself.”

“Why?”

“Because… Just because.” you shook your head. “I don’t wanna get into it.”

“Is it because of the girl?” he looked at you confusedly.

“No Hyunjin, it’s because of all the girls. The way you act like it means nothing to you so whatever this is between us probably doesn’t matter to you either. You only look to satisfy yourself, not caring about hurting someone else’s feelings. And frankly, I can’t deal with that. I can’t believe I’m saying this to you but I want something real, I don’t want to be used for your pleasure and then thrown away like I was just one of your little groupies.” you couldn’t stop talking, a weight lifting off of your chest. 

“Is that all you think of me? That I’m so shallow and conceited?” he asked, seemingly sobered up all of a sudden.

“I’ve never seen proof of the opposite.” 

“Fuck then let me prove it to you! Of course I care about your feelings, y/n and I never looked at you as one of those groupies. I don’t need anyone but you and this means everything to me.” he shook his head. 

“What?” you were in disbelief, Hyunjin had never sounded so serious before. 

“There you are.” Ana came in, followed by the rest of the gang, and you leaned away from Hyunjin.

“I’m gonna go shower.” you used the situation to slip away. 

Your thoughts were racing as you stood under the warm water. 

Was he telling the truth?

You went through a rollercoaster of emotions, too exhausted to think after the whole day. 

You laid in your bunk as everyone settled in to sleep after showering and eating some dinner. 

It didn’t take long for Hyunjin to climb up. 

“Hey.” he whispered as you sat, expecting him to show up. 

“Hey.” you said and he smiled. 

“So, are you gonna give me a chance?” he bit on his lip, playing with his lip ring nervously. 

You sighed, studying his expression. 

He looked sincere, scared even, his eyes becoming big as he pleaded. 

“Okay.” you said and he chuckled.

“Yes!” he exclaimed.

“Shh. You’ll wake everyone up. And don’t fucking waste this chance, Hyunjin. Because it’s the only one you’ll get.” you warned him as he crawled closer to you.

“I promise I’ll make the best of it.” he said, leaning in to kiss you. 

You didn’t even realize how much you missed his kisses, when it has been hours since you last felt his sweet lips on yours. 

“Remember what I said earlier?” he smirked, lowering his voice as his hands massaged your thighs. 

“Mm?” you mirrored his smirk, pretending to be clueless.

“I’m gonna have my way with you now.” he grabbed you, pulling you to lay under him as you gasped in surprise. 

Hyunjin’s fingers trailed up your thigh with feather-like touches up your already dripping pussy. 

He ran his fingertips over your clothed folds, drawing a deep breath from you. 

“I took off my rings.” he whispered, wiggling his fingers.

“I can see that.” you whispered back as he found your clit, pressing into it and touching you teasingly, slowly.

 He kept smirking at you smugly as he hooked his fingers into your shorts, pulling them down with your panties, noticing you wore lacy ones under your pjs. 

“Cute panties. Shame they came off too soon.” he giggled as you lightly slapped his arm, your face becoming red in embarrassment.

“I’m keeping them.” he said, putting them aside as you rolled your eyes with a smirk. 

Hyunjin leaned over you, his face inches away from you as his lips hovered over yours. 

“You have to be a good girl and keep quiet. Can you do that, princess?” he said, his fingers back on your clit as he started massaging it in circles, making you arch your back towards him. 

“Y-yeah.” you whispered, your eyes fluttering.

“If you make a sound, I will stop.” Hyunjin gave you that famous shit eating grin.

“No, I’ll be quiet!” you whispered.

“Good. Now shut up, darling.” he said with a smirk, his fingers teasing your folds. 

You bit on your lip as he teased you, playing with your clit as he pinched it occasionally, almost making you moan. 

He was enjoying how wet you were getting as he concentrated on your sensitive nub, his other hand traveling beneath your shirt to play with your breasts. 

“You look so cute like this.” he said and you wanted to slap him for the condescending tone he used, but at the same time your pussy clenched, a gush of arousal dripping out of you. 

“You know why?” he added as he observed you, his fingers dipping between your wet folds as he teased you. 

You shook your head no. 

“Because only I get to see you like this. Only I get to unravel you, sweetheart.” he looked at you lustfully as he slowly pushed his fingers in, making you gasp as your legs trembled for a moment. 

Your pussy sucked two of his fingers right in as he chuckled under his breath. 

“You take me so well.” he bit on his lip as he slowly moved his fingers, massaging your inner walls. 

“Ngh.” you moaned, pushing up into his hand, begging for more, deeper, faster. 

“Sweet girl.” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your jawline and neck. 

You melted, your legs opening up completely for him as he fucked into you a bit faster, curling his fingers to find that spot. 

“Look at you.” he pinched your nipple and you swallowed a moan. “So giving.” Hyunjin chuckled darkly as your legs shook. 

He sped up, finding that spot and making you moan quietly as you bit on your lip hard. 

“Am I making it difficult for you?” 

The fucking bastard. 

“Answer me.” he said sternly and you whimpered. 

“Yes, you are.” you said and Hyunjin chuckled.

“Good.”

The bunk bed filled up with sounds of your wet pussy as you dripped all over his hand, your entire body was trembling, your heart beating fast as your eyes rolled in the back of your head, you’ve never been this aroused in your life.

“T-they’re gonna hear…” you whimpered silently as Hyunjin kept abusing your pussy with his fingers, pistoning them into your heat as you clenched around him, trying to ignore the enormous pressure building up inside you. 

“Oh yes, they are. They’ll hear what a filthy slut you are for me. They’ll hear your little pussy sucking my fingers in. You’re so nasty, baby.” he fucked you even harder as you gasped.

“F-fuck! I-I can’t…” you thrashed against the bed, tears gathering in your eyes as you tried to squeeze your legs around his arm involuntarily. 

“Come on, let go for me.” he looked smug as he fucked you fast, his eyes full of lust. 

You almost cried out, biting on your lower lip hard, drawing blood as the metallic taste filled up your mouth, making your mind float. 

“God, you really want to edge yourself.” he smirked.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you trembled violently and you bit down on your arm, finally not being able to hold in anymore as you exploded, squirting all over your thighs and Hyunjin’s hand as he fucked you through your orgasm, his other hand abusing your sensitive clit. 

“That’s my good girl. I’m proud of you.” he pulled his fingers out as you gasped, watching him as he licked at his hand. 

You were in shock, never having finished this violently that the muscles in your legs were cramping, never has a man managed to make you squirt. 

“Y/n?” Hyunjin leaned over you, wiping your tears. 

“I-I never squirted before.” you admitted and Hyunjin smiled proudly. 

“Really?” he looked excited suddenly and you chuckled. 

“Really.” you nodded. 

“Well, I’m gonna make you squirt again.” he smirked and you looked down, realizing he was stroking himself. 

You had no idea when he took his pants off. 

“Mhm.” you wrapped your legs around him. 

“Mm. So wet.” he pressed his tip against you, massaging your folds with it. 

“Just put it in.” you gripped at him and he smiled, burying his face in your neck. 

“A little needy, I see.” he said and you made your point by bringing him closer with your legs so that his tip slipped inside you, making him moan into your skin quietly. 

“You’re just as needy for me.” you tangled your hand in his soft hair, inhaling his shampoo, your other hand caressing his back as he pushed his cock inside you slowly, bottoming out as you gasped quietly.

“I am.” he said, kissing your neck as he started rocking his hips into you, his hands gripping your waist. 

“I’m not gonna last long. Watching you squirt for me almost made me cum.”

“Mm, it’s okay, Jinnie.” you wrapped your arms around him as he whimpered quietly into your skin. 

“Say that again.” he nibbled at your ear, rutting into you desperately. 

“What, Jinnie?”

“Yeah.” his cock was hitting all the right spots inside you, the pressure you felt before building up quickly again. 

You dug your nails into his shoulders and he hissed, biting on your neck, his hand on your hip and the other on your breast as he squeezed it. 

“Jinnie. My Jinnie.” you whined quietly and he groaned as the bed started creaking, now it was more than obvious what you were doing. 

“Fuck, tell me I’m yours.” Hyunjin moaned, grabbing your wrists and pinning them on either side of your head as his hips snapped into yours, his pubic hair brushing against your clit deliciously, adding more friction to your sensitive parts. 

“You’re mine, Hyunjin. All mine.” you moaned and he kissed you sloppily as you clenched around his cock. 

“I’m all yours, princess.” he pressed his forehead against yours and you whimpered, exploding around him as you squirted again, your nails drawing blood on his back. 

“Shit!” Hyunjin’s entire body trembled as he pushed deeper inside you, his cock twitching as he filled you up with spurts of hot cum. 

“Mm.” you moaned. 

“Take it all, baby. Milk me dry.” he groaned as your eyes filled up with tears of pleasure and you came once again, squeezing around his length, forcing him to spill every little drop he had inside you. 

“Fuck.” Hyunjin collapsed on top of you, both of you wet and sweaty as you wrapped around each other. 

“You think they heard?” you asked after some time and Hyunjin lifted up to look at you, caressing your face.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” he smirked.

“Bastard.” you squinted your eyes with a smile as he giggled. 

“You can call me anything you want as long as you keep calling me yours.” he said, kissing your lips gently. 

“I take it this is your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” you asked, carding your fingers through his damp hair.

“I don’t have to ask, baby. You’re already mine.” he bit on his lip, his eyes filling up with lust again. 

He was going to drive you crazy and you loved it. 

-

The next morning as Hyunjin and you walked into the living area of the bus, everyone looked up at you with knowing smirks. 

“Oh, Jinnie, ah!” Aiden started moaning so Hyunjin came up to him and smacked the back of his head. 

“Shut up, dickhead.” Hyunjin said as your face heated up. 

“So, are you guys like together now?” Brendon asked. 

“Yes, we are.” you answered, pouring yourself some coffee.

“Finally! Y’all owe me 20 bucks each!” Brendon said as everyone around the table groaned.

“You bet on us getting together?” 

“We all bet on when you are going to get together. I was the closest.” he smirked as you shook your head. 

Hyunjin ignored them, pulling you to sit in his lap. 

“You two are gonna be disgusting all the time now.” Aiden scrunched his face up. 

“You’re just jealous.” Hyunjin smirked at his friend, pulling you flush against his back as you sipped on your coffee. 

“Yeah, I am.” Aiden sighed. “Oh, now we have two couples here.” he added and everyone looked at Ana and Anthony who were quiet almost the whole time. 

“Oh I knew there was something there.” you chuckled. 

“Well… seems like we’re still single.” Brendon winked at Aiden, his hand on Aiden’s thigh as he leaned in, making an exaggerated kissy face at him.

“Ew, get away from me!” Aiden pushed him as everyone laughed. 

“Gimme a sip.” Hyunjin leaned on your shoulder, pursing his lips as he looked at your coffee cup. 

You giggled, turning on his lap a little as you gave him your coffee. 

The bus parked in the designated place as Stu joined you.

“I’m not even gonna ask.” he looked at the two of you.

“By the way, I have something for you.” Hyunjin whispered, kissing your shoulder as everyone got back to scrolling on their phones or conversing. 

“Oh yeah? What is it?” 

“Come, I’ll show you outside. Bring the coffee.” he nudged you with his leg and you squealed, getting up. 

The two of you sat nearby, as Hyunjin pulled out his cigarettes. 

“Want one?” he asked. 

“We can share.” you shrugged and he smiled, lighting it up. 

He puffed out the smoke then took a sip of coffee.

“So, what did you want to show me?” 

“You know how I have a favorite guitar pick? My lucky red one, I always play with it?” he started.

“Yes, what about it?” you asked, curiously tilting your head. 

He reached into his pocket, smiling as his cheeks became rosy.

“I made it into a necklace for you.” 

“Oh.” your heart skipped a beat, you were touched. “When did you do that?” 

“Well, after that night I slept over in your bunk bed for the first time.” Hyunjin admitted, looking at his feet.

“Woah. Then?” you were shocked at the revelation. 

“Yeah, I knew you’d be mine before the end of the tour.” he smirked.

“Did you now?” you asked, grabbing the cigarette from his hand.

“It was my mission to annoy you so much that you finally cave.” he wiggled his eyebrows and you puffed the smoke out into his face.

“Well, it worked.” you said. 

“I’m glad it did.�� he motioned for you to turn around so he could put the necklace on you. 

“Thank you, this is really sweet.” you said as you played with it. 

“No need to thank me. I, ugh, also wanna tell you something.” he added and you nodded.

“Are you aware that you inspired almost all of my songs? So, it’s kinda funny that you’re playing songs that are actually about you.” he said and you choked on the coffee as you started coughing. 

“Shit, are you okay?” he quickly tapped your back with his hand.

“Some of the songs are years old…” you said as he cautiously took the cigarette from between your fingers and brought it to his lips.

“Mhm.” he nodded, looking at you as you processed the information. 

“You… always liked me?” you frowned and Hyunjin nodded.

“But why did you bug me like that all the time, making me think you hate me?” you asked. 

“This is gonna sound like a bunch of bullshit. But you seemed to hate me from the day we met and I was scared of you. I thought if I ever tried to approach you normally you’d spit in my face and tell me to fuck off.” 

“You’re right. That does sound like a bunch of bullshit.” you looked at him annoyingly as you pinched his arm hard, making him yelp.

“What was that for?!” he whimpered.

“For being an idiot.” you said and he whined. 

“What did I do now?” 

“I liked you right away, Hyunjin. But I saw how you treated Macy, and concluded that you were just some pretty heartless bastard who played with girls like they’re toys so I decided to hate you so I’d stop liking you.” 

“Who’s Macy?” he looked at you confusedly and you pinched him again.

“Ow!” he yelped, rubbing at his arm. 

“The girl you dated back then? The curly blonde who worked in the company?”

“Oh, I forgot her name. We only hooked up like four times. It meant nothing to me- ow!” you pinched his arm again.

“Stop with the abuse!” he whined and you chuckled.

“See, that is exactly what I was talking about.” you scolded him and he pouted.

“I know you just called me a heartless bastard but you also called me pretty so I’m gonna ignore the rest.” he said, making a weird face as he leaned away from you.

“What are you doing?” you gave him the elevator eyes.

“Trying not to get pinched again?” he answered and you let out a laugh.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” you said and he squinted at you.

“Look, I promise!” you lifted your hands up in surrender.

Hyunjin exhaled, chuckling as he moved the coffee cup aside and scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you. 

“I promise I know your name.” he teased.

“Hyunjin!” you smacked his chest, laughing as he chuckled, pulling you into a hug.

“In all seriousness, I plan on being totally devoted to you.” he said, kissing your cheek. “You’re my ride or die.”

“I like that.” you smiled, your heart leaping out of your chest as butterflies swarmed in your stomach. 

“Me too.” Hyunjin leaned in, kissing you passionately as you almost climbed into his lap.

“Save that for later, we need to practice!” Brendon yelled suddenly and the two of you parted, seeing everyone piled up on the windows, staring at you.

“Nosy bastards.” you chuckled fondly as Hyunjin pecked your lips.

“Come on, we gotta rock the stage tonight.” he got up, reaching his hand towards you. 

You knew tonight was going to be completely different. 

And it was.

You listened to the lyrics carefully, realizing that Hyunjin had really been singing about you this whole time and you were clueless, thinking he was writing songs about his little groupies or the girls he hooked up with, but there was only one girl who was his muse and it was you. 

-

It was quiet in the bus the next morning, the end of the tour was near so  Hyunjin and you decided to take some time to chill in the back of the vehicle.

There was a big bed there, and when your friends saw the two of you leaving to the ‘fuck room’ as the called it, they decided to disperse away, with Aiden yelling ‘Don’t forget to change the sheets!’ as he left.

You were enjoying a peaceful moment, Hyunjin sitting on the bed with his guitar as he picked at it absentmindedly, playing random melodies. 

You were looking up tattoo designs, thinking that it was finally time to get one of your own. 

Hyunjin’s playing soothed you and you were lulled into a calm state until he started playing a familiar melody, making you jolt. 

You turned to look at him and he grinned at you. 

Hyunjin was playing your warm up song, the one you wrote when you were little. 

“H-how did you-” you started and he chuckled. 

“You think I never paid attention to you?” he licked his lip as he continued playing. 

“Stalker.” you smiled, your face heating up. 

“A romantic stalker.” he snickered and you shook your head at him. 

He smiled at you fondly, suddenly singing the lyrics. 

You couldn’t believe he knew the song by heart, it almost made your eyes tear up so you turned away from him. 

Hyunjin stopped playing and you felt the bed shift before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against him. 

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” he whispered, peppering your cheek and jaw with kisses. 

“No, I was touched. That song means a lot to me.” you said as Hyunjin squeezed you tighter. 

“I know, baby.” he said, dragging his bottom lip on your skin, his lip ring brushing against you and making you shiver. 

“Are you looking up tattoo designs?” Hyunjin peered over your shoulder, leaning his chin on it. 

“Yeah, but I can’t find a perfect one.”

“I can sketch one for you.” he said and you looked back at him.

“You’d do that?” you asked and he nodded with a smile. 

“Of course! We could even get matching tattoos.” he smirked. 

“You do know those are forever?” you bit on your lip and Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, I know.” 

You searched his eyes for a moment before turning towards him and crashing your lips into his.

Hyunjin moaned against you as you kissed him desperately, your tongue playing with his lip ring shortly before you pushed it into his mouth. 

Hyunjin’s eyes rolled back as you gripped his hair, pulling his head back harshly. 

He groaned, grabbing at your waist and you pressed your middle into his, grinding against him instantly. 

“B-baby…” he whimpered against your lips as you felt him grow under you. 

“Jinnie.” you smirked, your lips on his jaw and neck as you slid your arms under his shirt, caressing his abs. 

Hyunjin let out the most delicious moans as you kissed him and touched him, every little sound made more arousal gather on your panties. 

He chased your lips when you looked up at him but you pressed your palms on his chest, pushing him down on the bed as he fell with a thud, his arms on either side of his head.

He smirked at you as you tugged at his clothes. 

“Princess, are you needy for me?” he asked, his voice raspy and eyes lustful as you practically ripped his pants off. 

“Shut up Hyunjin. I’m gonna use you.” you smirked, taking his shirt off. 

“Use me however you want, baby. It’s all yours - ah!” he whined when you slid his boxers down, grabbing his cock and playing with it, teasing his slit with your thumb as you slid down. 

“Y/n…” Hyunjin gasped when your breath hit his navel. 

You didn’t answer, you were too busy as you licked a stripe on his length, following the vein all the way to the tip where you played with his slit. 

“Oh my god!” Hyunjin groaned. 

You giggled, your eyes crazed with lust as you spit on his cock, jerking off only his tip and Hyunjin’s legs trembled for a moment. 

“Fuck, you’re so nasty baby.” he hissed. 

“Am I?” you leaned in closer, teasing his tip with your tongue again. 

“Stop teasing me.” Hyunjin already sounded breathless. 

“Or what?” you smirked before wrapping your lips around him as you started sucking him off fast instantly, like he was the tastiest lollipop and Hyunjin jolted, moaning loudly. 

“Shit!” he exclaimed as you sucked him off like no tomorrow, quickly swallowing his entire length as your nose pressed into his pubic hair, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag around him.

Hyunjin gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you gripped his thighs, bracing yourself while you sucked him dry. 

“Such a nasty slut. Drooling all over my dick. You like choking on it, hm?” he smirked and you moaned around him, your pussy begging for attention. 

Hyunjin whined, his head hitting the pillow as he fucked up into your mouth. 

Just as you felt that he was close, you quickly pulled off when he least expected it.

“Why’d you stop?” he almost cried out but stopped himself as you started stripping. 

“I’m gonna ride you.” you said and he chuckled. 

“Do what you want with me.” he gripped onto your hips as you adjusted above him, grabbing his cock and running the tip on your folds. 

You slid down, taking all of him in as both of you moaned at the feeling. 

“Mm, so warm and wet baby.” Hyunjin pushed up into you immediately. “I need you, y/n. Please fuck me.”

He looked so desperate after you edged him with your mouth and you enjoyed seeing him like that, falling apart for you, his hair splayed everywhere around his head, his forehead sweaty, his face twisted somewhere between pleasure and pain, lips swollen as he kept biting on them, his hands gripping at you like you were his life line. 

You put your hands on his chest as you started fucking on him fast, your thighs slapping against him, making him whimper as the bed shook and Hyunjin gripped at the sheets, fucking up into you to meet your pace. 

“Y/n, fuck! Harder, fuck me harder!” he begged and you gathered all your strength, fucking on him as hard as you could and he grunted loudly, holding your hips as he fucked up into you. 

“That’s it. Good girl. I’m gonna carve the shape of my cock in your pretty pussy.” he smirked between gasps and you whimpered loudly, exploding all over his cock, lifting up and squirting on his twitching length. 

Hyunjin let out an animalistic groan when he saw that, grabbing your arms and swiftly turning you around, pressing your knees to your shoulders as you gasped, dizzy from your orgasm and the sudden movement. 

He didn’t give you any time to recover as he pushed his dick deep inside you, your pussy taking him immediately. 

“Ah!” you moaned loudly. 

Hyunjin looked crazed as he fucked you hard immediately, his hands grabbing at your breasts. 

“You’re gonna be mine forever, princess. I’ll fill you up good and make sure of that.” 

“H-Hyunjin.” you gasped, throwing your head back as you dug your nails into his biceps. 

“Mm, y/n.” he whined as his hips stuttered and you came around him again, your pussy gripping his cock. 

Hyunjin grabbed your hand as he came hard, filling you up with what seemed like endless ropes of hot cum. 

“I love you.” he breathed out and your eyes widened, your core clenching around his softening cock. 

His eyes widened when he realized what he said, both of you frozen for a moment. 

Hyunjin looked panicked immediately but you grabbed his face, making him look at you. 

“I love you.” you smiled and he visibly melted. 

You heard voices outside, both of you gasping as you jerked away from each other, quickly picking your clothes up. 

“Are y’all done fucking?” Brendon yelled from the front as you got dressed clumsily while Hyunjin tried to gather the dirty sheets. 

Embarrassment washed over you when you felt his cum seep out of you, dripping on your panties. 

“No we’re not!” Hyunjin yelled and you chuckled. 

“I don’t want them to come in here yet.” he pulled you into his chest. 

“Why?” you looked up at him. 

“I- I meant what I said, y/n. I love you.” he said. 

“I love you too, Jinnie. I also hate you just a little, sometimes.” you joked and he giggled.

“That’s okay, as long as you turn that hate into passion.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Of course.” you promised and he leaned in to kiss you gently.

-

Six months later…

jinnie<3: babe i have a surprise for you

you: should i be worried?

jinnie<3: maybe… no?

you: just come home

You shook your head with a giggle, today was exactly six months since Hyunjin and you started dating. 

You didn’t waste much time, moving in together only a few weeks after the tour ended. 

Hyunjin was more clingy than you anticipated but you wouldn’t have him any other way. 

You waited for him to come home, hugging teddy as you sat on the sofa, both of you wrapped in a blanket. 

Dinner was already finished and Hyunjin’s gift was ready, the lacy black and red set right under the inconspicuous pjs you had on. 

“Honey, I’m home!” he snickered as he came in, slamming the door behind him before he all but ran to you. 

“Careful.” you laughed as he tripped over the carpet.

He gave you a pointed look but his arms wrapped around you and teddy as he hugged you tightly.

“Missed you.” he nuzzled into your hair and you giggled. 

“We missed you too.” you said and he leaned back.

“Do you think teddy missed me more than you did?” he teased.

“Oh definitely.” you smirked and he pouted so you pulled him into another hug, and he yelped.

“Ow. Be careful.” he jolted and you squinted your eyes at him.

“What did you do, Hyunjin?”

“Remember when I asked if a belly button piercing would suit me?” he grimaced.

“Did you get a belly button piercing?!” you gasped and Hyunjin chuckled before he took his shirt off. 

Sure enough, there was a fresh piercing above his belly button. 

“Oh wow. It’s perfect.” you bit on your lip and he exhaled.

“I’m glad you like it.” he said, looking relieved.

“Is that my gift?” you chuckled. 

“Kind of, but also this.” he pulled out his sketchbook, flipping through the pages. 

“It’s the tattoo you wanted, I finished designing it.” he showed you the sketch and you gasped. 

“Hyunjin! This is beautiful!”

“It’ll look even more beautiful on you.” he leaned in to kiss you. 

“I wanna do it as soon as I can.” you said and he chuckled.

“Maybe we could add our matching tattoo then.” Hyunjin’s cheeks flushed.

“Oh? You have an idea for that?”

“Yeah but stop me if it’s too cheesy or if you don’t like it.” he said, looking nervous all of a sudden as he flipped through his sketchbook again. 

“Just show me.” you smiled and he gave you the sketchbook. 

“See it’s part of a rose for you and part for me, my vision was to have it tattooed on the side of our thumbs so when we hold hands, it becomes one flower. What do you think?” 

You stared at him for a moment as your heart fluttered. 

“Hyunjin, that’s so sweet. I love that idea.” you caressed his cheek as he smiled. 

“I’m glad you do.” 

Both of you leaned in, your lips meeting in a tender kiss. 

“Where’s my gift?” he smirked and you snickered, lowering your shirt a little, just so you could tease him with a glimpse of the lacy bra. 

“Oh. You wore the set.” he licked his lips. “Mm, the best gift ever.” his eyes became foggy in a second as he leaned in with pursed lips.

“Nuh-uh!” you put your finger on his lips. “No dessert before dinner.” you smirked and he rolled his eyes with a smile. 

“Fine, I’ll eat you up later. There’ll be nothing left of you just so you know, darling.” Hyunjin said, burying his face in your neck and inhaling the sweet perfume you put on for him, the one that drives him absolutely insane. 

“Also, please put on a shirt before I explode.” you added as he leaned back and he laughed, his body shaking with it. 

“Sorry.” he winked, getting dressed.

Hyunjin chased you to the kitchen as you grabbed teddy and started running from him, squealing as you rounded the table. 

He tricked you, going left then right and you fell for it, your body ending up in his comforting embrace. 

“I think teddy is hungry.” Hyunjin said, making you giggle.

“Mhm, and what about Jinnie?” you smirked and he chuckled. 

“Jinnie is starving.” he whined dramatically.

As the apartment filled up with warm laughter, the first snowflakes started falling outside, signifying a new beginning, a sense of calmness and peace washing over you, the warmth and comfort you felt at that moment enveloping the two of you completely. 

The happiness was almost tangible as it traveled through the air. 

If someone would’ve told you you’d end up living with your sworn enemy, Hwang Hyunjin, you’d call them crazy while laughing in their face. 

But here you were, every moment with him by your side was precious even when he drove you crazy at times.

After dinner, you skipped out to your balcony to light up a cigarette and enjoy the view of the city as all the roofs slowly became blanketed by snow. Hyunjin joined you, draping his leather jacket over your shoulders when you shivered, his arms wrapping around your frame.

“I’m starting to think you keep forgetting your jacket on purpose.” he squinted his eyes at you and you giggled.

“Maybe I am.” you looked back at him as he leaned his chin on your shoulder.

“Well, you can always wear mine.” he whispered, turning you around so he could give you a gentle kiss.

Who knew that your band falling apart would bring you together with the love of your life? 

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