#and if that happened. The car would be done. The front end would slam into the ground and instantly come to a dead stop

[thicc-astronaut]

Robot who can't be as active as it wants to because of a dangerously rusty chassis. Robot whose wiring has come loose and has to fiddle with its switches to make things work properly. Robot who has a slow coolant leak and has to stop to take rests more often.

Robot disabilities. Robot who charges slowly and loses power incredibly fast and is always tired. Robot with malfunctioning lenses and can’t process visual information properly. Robot that can’t process anything too large and at a fast rate or else they’ll shut down. Robot with limbs screwed on too loose/just can’t attach correctly, so if they’re not careful they fall out. Robot disabilities,,,

[jaysbaefie]

babysitter | pjs

synopsis: in which your reckless driving leads to you spending your summer babysitting your father’s business partners son.

genre: rich dad au

pairing: chaebol!jay x younger bratty!reader

warnings: 12 year age gap! reader is 23 and jay is 35, lots and lots of tension, bratty!reader, meandom!jay, possessive!jay, bickering, lots of cornering (like a lot), forced submission, spanking ass + pussy, dub-con in some instances, (oral f. rec), fingering, choking, manhandling, binding with belt, rough p in v (unprotected), forced confession of feelings, cum eating, lots of talk about age. i think that’s it ….

wc: 22.4k

a/n: holy fuck balls you guys. this was the longest piece i’ve written and i feel like ive lost my mind. i feel like a changed woman with all this plot and the minimal smut… like what happened. also wtf is a 1000 block limit…? i had to go back and merge paragraphs because tumblr has a limit apparently. so now, it’s just merged together which is so annoying. anyways, this is for those who voted for babysitter jay! stay tuned i plan on putting another pole out for the next fic. thank you for all the love on my fics <33 notes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. enjoy :)))

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

 

you should've known something like this would happen. when your father instructed you to go to his office to pick up some papers for him, you had a gut feeling that something bad was going to happen.

it was your father's fault, really. if he hadn't called you in the middle of the day, nagging about how you needed to "grow up" and "take responsibility" and "learn a thing or two from your old man," you wouldn't have been so distracted. and if you hadn't been so distracted, you wouldn't have slammed your car straight into the back of someone else's.

a very expensive looking car at that.

your heart was still hammering against your ribs as you sat stiffly on the sidewalk, your car parked haphazardly next to the damaged luxury vehicle you had just rear-ended. you stumbled out of your car, not having the guts to walk up to the car you had absolutely demolished to talk to the owner.

people passing by casted you pitying glances, but none of them could possibly understand the deep, all-consuming regret swirling in your chest.

your father was going to kill you.

worse, the owner of the car was going to kill you.

"you've got to be fucking kidding me."

a deep voice cut through the sound of honking cars and murmuring pedestrians. you squeezed your eyes shut, already dreading the moment you'd have to turn around. but you had no choice, so with a slow inhale, you finally lifted your gaze.

oh fuck my life.

and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.

"oh, you've really done it this time," you muttered under your breath, swallowing harshly as the man you recognized as jay park, your father's business partner, the ceo of a multimillion-dollar company, and the man whose car you just destroyed—stood in front of you.

looking absolutely livid.

jay was wearing a crisp black suit, but his jacket was slung over his arm, and the top buttons of his white dress shirt were undone. despite the clear annoyance twisting his sharp features, he still managed to look ridiculously handsome. infuriatingly handsome. disregarding your history with the man, you didn't know if you wanted to jump his bones or get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.

his dark eyes flickered from the dent in his car's bumper to where you sat on the sidewalk, one brow raising as realization dawned on him.

"you have got to be kidding me," he repeated, voice laced with disbelief. "of course it's you". his dark eyes narrowed down on your smaller frame, his mouth twisted in a scowl as he ran his hand through his thick black locks in frustration.

you scowled, crossing your arms. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

fuck his forgiveness.

jay let out a sharp laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. "it means i'm not even surprised. reckless, irresponsible, and spoiled? sounds exactly like you."

"let me guess? daddy's going to take care of this for you? typical," he sneers down at you.

your blood boiled, immediately getting up from the sidewalk so you could stalk up to him. "oh, please. don't act like you know me." he scoffed, leaning down slightly so that his face was closer to yours. "i don't need to know you. your reputation does all the talking, brat."

you clenched your jaw at the name.

he wasn't completely wrong, but you'd rather die than admit that.

jay exhaled heavily, moving back up and pulling out his phone. "i'm calling your father."

your eyes widened in panic. "wait! no, you don't have to do that—"

but it was too late. jay was already dialing, his expression unreadable as he brought the phone to his ear.

you felt like you were about to throw up.

you didn't hear the full conversation, but based on the way jay's jaw tightened and the glance he shot you, you could tell it wasn't going well. after a few more exchanges, he hung up, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"so?" you asked hesitantly, already bracing yourself for the worst. jay crossed his arms, looking far too pleased with himself. "your father and i came to an agreement."

you narrowed your eyes. "what kind of agreement?"

jay smirked. "instead of paying for the damage, you're going to babysit my son as reparation."

you stared at him. blinked. "what?"

he checked his watch, clearly done with the conversation. "i'll send you the details later. don't be late." and just like that, he walked off, leaving you standing by the sidewalk, utterly speechless.

this could not be happening.

babysitting? you?

you groaned, letting your head drop back.

this was going to be a nightmare, and you needed to wake up.

you make your way to your car, your fists clenching as you mentally prepare yourself to talk to your father.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

"this is so unnecessary, dad."

your father scoffs half heartedly, "you made a mistake, this is the least you could do, __."

"why can't we pay for the repairs, this is completely unnecessary!" you exclaim, your perfectly maintained brows shooting up as you cross your arms—staring at your father with a pointed look.

"besides, he could get anyone who's actually good with children to babysit his kid," you add on with a huff.

he sighs, his eyes shutting in temporary defeat, "__," he says with a warning tone. "mr.park is being nice enough to not file a report and get points deducted from your licence and possibly have your permit suspended. the least you could do is babysit his son, it shows that you are remorseful for your actions. the kids well behaved and you only need to be there for a few hours." 

you roll your eyes, this was stupid. it's not like he even cared about the car, so what you crashed into it.

"fine, but just this once. this isn't going to be a reoccurring thing, right?" you hiss at the end, looking at your father with resentment when his face changes into one of relief.

"i may have mentioned that you're not taking classes in the summer, and that you're free throughout the week so we'll see..." he trails off, watching your expression morph into one of disbelief.

"are you ser—" you begin only for knocking at the door to interrupt your sentence. you whip your head around harshly, ready to verbally abuse whoever had dared to interrupt you. "come in."

the door opened slightly, a house maid peering her head between the crack. "mr.__, mr.kim is here," she informs timidly, catching onto the bad energy in the room.

your father smiles, "we'll be right down, thank you teresa."

you scowl at her, her eyes widening for a moment before she scurries off—shutting the door behind her.

"dad i—" he cuts you off, "—__, we will continue this conversation next time. mr.kim is waiting for us downstairs, you know what to do when mr.park contacts you, right?" his eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you with narrowed eyes.

you let out a frustrated sigh, "yes, dad."

"good, be on your best behaviour."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

later that evening, you had sufficiently screamed into your pillow and considered packing your bags to flee the country. you were on the phone with one of your best friends, minho, who attempted to comfort you through your mental break down.

"you don't understand, minho. my life is ending," you wailed softly, pressing your face against your pillow—almost suffocating yourself.

minho rolls his eyes behind the screen, he was lucky you weren't on facetime or you'd have his neck.

"__, you're literally just babysitting for the man. you'll be fine."

"no, minho. you're still not getting it! it's the fact that i have to babysit for that asshole. i swear to god i've had beef with him for the last 4 years. he always has a stick up his ass," you ramble.

"are you sure you have beef with him? sounds one sided to me.." he trails off making you let out a gasp—offended at his words.

"you're supposed to be on my side, dick. whatever, i'll talk to you later. if i'm not dead," you whine dramatically.

minho scoffs, "yeah, yeah. love you, talk soon."

"love you too, bitch. bye."

you hang up the phone, staring mindlessly at your roof as you think about the events of today. jay wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so uptight all the time. he was actually hot. really, hot.

you think back to the times where the two of you interacted, the fake polite nods you sent his ways and the way he tried to hide his dislike for you behind his charming smile whenever there were others around. the way he'd brush up against you whenever he walked by you, or how his voice deepened when he said your name.

you had noticed his gaze slide up and down your frame on multiple occasions, choosing to ignore it but secretly loving the way he looked like he hated you. however, all these moments get pushed aside when you remember all the times he was an absolute dick towards you.

jay had a way of making himself the most infuriating person on the planet—whether he did it on purpose or not. and judging by the smug way his lips always curled whenever he got under your skin, you knew it was always on purpose. he liked seeing you riled up, he liked it when you bit back at him.

the first time you met him, he completely ignored you. it was at some stupid business dinner your father had forced you to attend. while everyone exchanged pleasantries, jay didn't even acknowledge you. not a single glance. not even when you introduced yourself. instead, he sipped his whiskey, eyes trained on anything but you. it wasn't until you had walked past him that he finally said something.

"spoiled little princess, huh?"

you turned back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "what did you just say to me?" this was the first time he had talked to you, and this is what he has to say?

he smirked over the rim of his glass. "nothing."

you scoffed, rolling your eyes in distaste before sauntering away. jay's eyes following every movement of your hips as you slowly get lost in the crowd.

he loved pointing out your mistakes.

when you got a flat tire outside your father's office, jay happened to be walking by. you were already frustrated, struggling with your phone to call for roadside assistance, when his voice rang out behind you.

"let me guess. you don't even know how to change a tire, do you?"

you scoffed, glaring at him. "do you?"

he chuckled, shaking his head. "of course i do. but i don't help people who look at me like they'd rather set me on fire."

he always had a comment about your attitude. "you pout too much."

you blinked, pausing mid-sip of your drink. "excuse me?"

jay leaned against the bar counter at yet another business event, swirling the ice in his glass as he looked at you with mild amusement. "you pout too much. like a brat who didn't get what she wanted."

you scoffed, setting your glass down with a little too much force. "maybe that's just my face."

he smirked, eyes flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "yeah? then why do you only do it around me?"

it was safe to say that you hated him and overall wanted nothing to do with him or his kid.

you groan into your pillow, "why me," you whine. suddenly, your phone pings.

you received a text from an unknown number.

jay: 9 am sharp. don't be late. i don't tolerate irresponsibility.

you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of your head.

you: don't worry, i wouldn't dare disappoint you, your highness.

his reply came almost immediately.

jay: that's mr. park to you.

you: my deepest apologies, park jongseong.

he didn't respond after that.

dickwad.

you tossed your phone onto your bed, groaning into your hands.

this was going to be a very, very long summer.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

you were not a morning person, and your lack of sleep was not helping. so when your alarm blared at an ungodly hour, your first instinct was to throw your phone across the room and go back to sleep—but you couldn't. because you had a job to do.

a job that you weren't getting compensated for.

or, more accurately, a job you were being forced into doing. it was unpaid labor by your father.

"consider it a way to build character and experience," he had said to you, sipping his coffee without a shred of sympathy or remorse as you gaped at him.

"consider it a way to ruin my life," you had shot back, but it hadn't mattered.

so here you were, running on three hours of sleep and a whole lot of resentment, pulling up to jay park's house—a sleek, modern mansion that screamed wealth. the kind of wealth that made you roll your eyes but also, begrudgingly, admire just a little. the driveway alone could fit at least six cars, and the front door? massive, dark wood, and intimidating as hell.

jay displayed his wealth proudly, whereas your father preferred to keep himself grounded. you get out of the car, your father had insisted that the driver drop you off.

"we don't need you crashing into another one of mr.park's cars," he had said, ushering you out the door.

you rolled your eyes, begrudgingly agreeing, not because you agreed that you were a terrible driver. but because you were tired and didn't have it in you to argue with him and get your way.

"when shall i pick you up ma'am?" your driver asked you.

you think for a second, "i'll inform you when."

you sighed, running a hand through your hair before pressing the doorbell.

within seconds, the door swung open. revealing a rather, dare you say, scandalous looking jongseong.

his typically neatly slicked back hair was frazzled, strands of his dark locks picking onto his forehead. he was wearing a thin white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons of his shirt undone, a thin silver chain adorned on his neck and his exposed collar bone. his plump lips were pulled into a rather lazy smirk in contrast to his typical scowl that you were used to him greeting you with. his sharp gaze flickering over you like he was already unimpressed.

it was entirely unfair how good he looked this early in the morning.

his lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smirk but wasn't exactly friendly either.

"you're late."

your eyes narrowed, glancing at your phone. "it's 9:02."

jay raised a brow. "exactly."

your jaw clenched. two minutes. he was seriously acting like two damn minutes was a crime.

you forced a tight-lipped smile. "where's the kid?"

before jay could respond, a small figure peeked out from behind him—a little boy, no older than five, with round cheeks and big, curious eyes.

jay made a cute kid, you'll give him that. jay placed a hand on his head, his expression softening just slightly. "this is seojun. seojun, this is __. she's going to be taking care of you today."

he steps aside, allowing you into his home. you admire the interior, mouth opening in awe as you take off your shoes.

seojun blinked up at you before stepping forward, arms crossed in a stance far too judgmental for a five-year-old.

"do you know how to make pancakes?"

what happened to 'hello, how are you?'

you hesitated for a moment, looking up at jay in confusion only for him to give you a 'well, do you?' look. "uh... sure?"

seojun narrowed his eyes. "do you actually, or are you lying?" jay let out a soft chuckle, and you immediately shot him a glare.

"i can make pancakes," you insisted, then quickly added, "probably."

seojun sighed like a man three times his age, shaking his head. "we're doomed."

jay patted his son's head, lips twitching. "good luck," he says. he reaches for his trench coat and bag that were set neatly by the door on a cushioned bench.

your eyes widened. "wait, you're leaving?"

"that's usually how work goes."

"you could at least pretend to care about abandoning your child with a stranger." 

jay gave you a pointed look. "you crashed into my car. this is me pretending. and i have 911 on speed dial." you opened your mouth to argue but stopped when you felt a tiny hand grip your wrist.

"you're wasting time," seojun said seriously, already pulling you toward the kitchen. "if you burn my breakfast, i'm calling the cops."

jay smirked as you shot him one last glare before getting dragged away by his tiny, opinionated son.

ten minutes later, and you were already regretting everything. you stumbled around the kitchen blindly, allowing the spawn of satan to boss you around.

"that's too much flour."

"are you sure you cracked that egg right?"

"why does the batter look like that?"

"are you even qualified to be in a kitchen?"

you turned slowly to seojun, who was sitting on the counter with his arms crossed, watching your every move with a level of scrutiny that made you nervous. truth be told, you had never made pancakes. you were going off memory of what your housemaids had put into the batter when you asked for pancakes one morning—happening to pay attention to them cooking.

"do you wanna make the pancakes?" you asked, raising a brow—getting tired of his attitude and critiques.

"no," he said simply. "i just don't want to die eating them."

you exhaled sharply. "listen here, you little—"

"language," seojun cut in, and you swore you heard jay's smug influence in that tone.

you were never having kids.

ever.

despite his relentless judgment, you somehow managed to make edible pancakes. you plated them with a dramatic flourish, sliding one in front of seojun before grabbing a plate for yourself. he stared at it for a long moment before finally taking a bite. you held your breath.

"...not bad," he muttered.

you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest dramatically. "was that a compliment?"

he rolled his eyes. "don't get used to it."

little shit.

you smirked, finally digging into your own breakfast, only to be interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

jay was home. already?

he stepped into the kitchen, shrugging off his coat, his eyes scanning the scene in front of him. the not-burnt pancakes. seojun eating without complaint. and much to his disappointment—you, still alive.

his brow lifted in shock, "huh."

you glared at him, "what?"

jay leaned against the counter, arms crossed, "i figured you'd give up by now."

you scoffed. "sorry to disappoint."

seojun swallowed his bite, glancing between the two of you before shaking his head. "you guys fight too much. i thought adults were mature."

jay smirked. "we don't fight."

you scoffed. "we absolutely do."

"no, you just get mad when i say things that are true."

your eye twitched. "i literally hate you."

"see? fighting," seojun interrupts.

"oh my god."

seojun groaned, dropping his fork. "i liked it better when you were just burning pancakes."

jay chuckled, grabbing a coffee mug from the cabinet. "get used to it, kid."

you narrowed your eyes at him. if you weren't being forced into this, you would have walked out already.

but you were being forced into this.

which meant you had no choice but to deal with jay fucking park.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

babysitting, as you had quickly come to realize, was hell.

seojun was a tiny dictator with far too many opinions for a five-year-old. after breakfast, he interrogated you about your ability to tie shoelaces, your knowledge of dinosaurs, and whether or not you knew how to build a proper lego tower.

you did not, apparently.

"how do you not know how to build legos," he exclaims, his tiny hands waving in the air dramatically as he watches you go through a mental break down.

"well, i'm sorry. i didn't play with legos as a kid, i played with barbie's."

seojun twists his face in disgust, "barbie's? that's for girls."

you look at him with a deadpan expression, "i'm a girl."

"oh."

"what do you even do all day?" he asks, hands on his hips as he watched you struggle to connect two lego pieces. "i exist," you grumbled, scowling at the colorful bricks in front of you. "isn't that enough?"

seojun sighed. "you need better life skills."

"oh, i'm sorry, i didn't realize i was signing up for a performance review."

"i'm just saying," he shrugged, "i expected more from someone who's supposed to be an adult."

this kid.

"i'm only 23," you grumble to yourself. you exhaled sharply, deciding to ignore his judgment as you tried again to build something that wouldn't collapse within seconds.

but then—the sound of the front door opening.

jay was home. again.

you weren't sure why this surprised you. maybe because most ceos didn't have time to just pop in and out of their mansions all day. you begin to wonder, what was the point of having you babysit his son if he wasn't going to fuck off?

seojun perked up at the sound, immediately abandoning you and your lego struggles to run toward the living room. you followed, stopping just before the hallway, eyes landing on jay.

he was pulling off his coat, dressed in a fitted dress shirt and slacks, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms.

his oh so veiny and thick forearms.

not that you were looking.

except you were. damn it.

"why are you back?" you asked, forcing yourself to look anywhere else.

jay glanced at you, expression unreadable. "this is my house." answering you as if you were stupid and unable to comprehend basic knowledge.

"you know what i meant. don't you have stuff to do?" he walked past you, ruffling seojun's hair before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"had a meeting nearby," he said, twisting the cap off. "figured i'd check in."

"to make sure i haven't killed your son yet?"

jay smirked. "basically."

you rolled your eyes. "wow. the trust is overwhelming."

before jay could respond, seojun tugged at his sleeve.

"dad, she sucks at legos."

you gasped, glaring at the boy. "excuse me?"

jay chuckled, taking a sip of his water before glancing at you, "i can't say i'm surprised."

oh, that was it.

"you know what?" you huffed, hands on your hips. "if i suck so much, why don't you do it?"

jay's brow lifted. "you want me to build legos?"

"i want you to prove you're better," you challenged. "unless you're all talk, park."

seojun gasped dramatically. "she's challenging you, dad."

jay stared at you.

you stared back.

then, to your absolute horror, he smirked. "fine," he said, setting his water down. "let's play."

oh.

you immediately regretted this.

twenty minutes later, and you had never felt so humiliated in your life.

"how the hell—" you gaped at the fully functional lego castle jay had built. "this is rigged."

jay leaned back, completely smug. "some of us have talent."

you glared. "some of us have jobs that should keep them too busy for this. old man."

seojun, sitting beside his dad, was thrilled.

"you suck at this," he declared.

"okay, you don't have to rub it in," you muttered, feeling sad that the older man had beat you.

jay stood, dusting off his hands. "guess that settles it. you suck, i don't. end of discussion."

you groaned. "i hate you."

jay smirked. "i know."

seojun clapped. "yay! dad wins!"

you slumped onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. you were never agreeing to anything ever again. jay checked his watch. "i have another meeting. try not to lose to a five-year-old while i'm gone."

you didn't even have the energy to glare at him. but you did flip him off.

jay just laughed, disappearing out of your sight.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

babysitting seojun had somehow turned into babysitting jay's goddamn ego.

he was infuriating.

it had been a full week since you started watching seojun, and in that time, jay had developed an annoying habit of randomly showing up at home between meetings, offering you nothing but sarcasm, smugness, and unsolicited criticism.

"you can't cook."

"your attention span is worse than my son's."

"what do you actually contribute to society?"

you had held your tongue, barely, choosing to channel your rage into rolling your eyes so hard it was a miracle they hadn't gotten stuck.

but today? oh, today you were done playing nice.

"__, can we please go to the park?"

the boy had asked you nicely and hadn't bullied you all day, so you said yes as a reward. seojun had wanted to go to the park, so you took him. simple. no issues.

until jay called.

"where are you?" his voice came through the speaker, low and sharp.

did the fucker have a tracker on his kid or something?

"out," you answered, watching seojun run toward the swings. a small smile makes its way on your face as you watch him giggle and make himself comfortable on the swing. he waves his hands around, trying to catch your attention.

"push me, noona!" he squeals. you grin, making your way to seojun.

"out where?" you almost forget he was on the phone.

"does it matter?" you roll your eyes with a huff.

"jesus, __." his frustration crackled through the line. "you're with my kid. tell me where you are."

you sighed. "we're at the park five minutes from your house. calm down, dad of the year."

there was a pause."stay there. i'm coming."

he hung up before you could argue.

okay then...

you huffed, shoving your phone into your pocket.

"jay's being dramatic again," you muttered to yourself, giving the little boy a push as he squeals and giggles to himself.

"he does that a lot," seojun said wisely.

even his son agrees.

when jay arrived, he looked pissed. tight jaw. furrowed brows. stiff shoulders. his hair was tousled and his shirt was ruffled slightly as he stalked his way up to you.

hot. 

not the point.

"you didn't tell me you were taking him out," he said, crossing his arms. his biceps bulged in his shirt, your mouth watering slightly before seojun's giggles break you out of your trance.

you mentally slap yourself for thirsting over the man. "because it wasn't a big deal," you shot back.

"it is when you're responsible for a five-year-old who isn't yours."

you groaned. "god, you're so controlling."

jay took a step closer. "and you're reckless."

"it's a park, not a battlefield."

"it's about responsibility, __." his voice dropped, tone edged with irritation. "but i wouldn't expect you to understand that."

you froze. "excuse me?"

jay tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "you heard me."

oh, hell no.

you stepped closer, chin lifting defiantly. "what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

his gaze flickered over your face before settling on your eyes. "it means you're a little spoiled brat who doesn't know how to take care of herself let alone another person."

you scoffed. "oh, i'm sorry, are you my father now?"

"god, no," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "i don't have the patience for that. but if i was, trust me, you'd be put in your place a long time ago."

you pause, your mind blanking at his words. "then stop acting like you know me."

jay let out a dry laugh. "oh, i know you just fine."

"bullshit."

his brows raised. "you think i don't see it? the way you pout when things don't go your way? how you expect everything to be handed to you? the way you act like the world owes you something?"

your hands clenched at your sides. "you don't know a damn thing about me."

fuck you. he did know you.

jay leaned in, his breath warm against your face. "i know enough."

your heartbeat spiked. not from anger. not entirely.

because up close, jay was all heat and intensity, his cologne clouding your senses, his voice a slow drag down your spine. your lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue—but then he smirked.

that arrogant, knowing smirk.

and just like that, the spell broke.

you shoved him back, ignoring the way his chest was way too solid under your hands. "get over yourself, park." his expression darkens at your touch, the heat of your palms against his chest making his body twitch.

jay barely budged from your shove. but his smirk did fade.

his jaw tensed. his fingers curled into fists.

"watch yourself, __," he murmured, his voice darker than before. "you're playing a dangerous game."

so why did it feel like he wanted you to keep playing?

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

your entire body was on fire.

standing in jay's kitchen, chest heaving, hands curled into fists at your sides, you couldn't decide whether you wanted to slap him or...

no. not that.

for the past eight hours, you had been subjected to jay's controlling and condescending attitude. the constant comments, the smug little smirks, the way he seemed to take way too much pleasure in watching you struggle. you had tried, really tried, to keep your cool. 

but now, standing in his sleek, modern kitchen, you were done.

"are you kidding me?" you scoffed, slamming the fridge shut. "you don't even have juice? what kind of psychopath only stocks sparkling water and black coffee?"

you were crashing out over some juice, for fucks sake.

jay barely looked up from his position, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. "a grown man who doesn't drink sugar like a child?"

your eyes narrowed. "oh, fuck off."

his lips twitched. "watch your mouth, princess."

princess. you hated when he called you that. hated the way it sent a pulse of heat through you, how it made your stomach twist and your thighs clench. you turned to glare at him. "why are you even here? don't you have some billionaire meeting to attend?"

he shrugged. "i cleared my schedule."

"why?"

jay's smirk deepened. "because i don't trust you alone in my house."

your jaw dropped. "excuse me? i think i've proved myself trust worthy in the last few weeks."

he pushed off the counter, stepping closer, his gaze lazy and unimpressed. "you're reckless. irresponsible. spoiled."

it was always the same few adjectives that he used to describe you, it was starting to grow old. your nails dug into your palms. "and you're a control freak." he hummed, pretending to consider. "maybe. but at least i don't go around crashing into people's cars and then whining when there are consequences."

oh, fuck him.

your nostrils flared. "it was a tiny scratch!"

jay arched a brow. "a tiny scratch that cost six figures."

you gritted your teeth. "maybe if you didn't drive a car worth more than some people's houses—"

"maybe if you learned how to drive—"

your breath came short, your heart pounding in your ears as you held yourself back from launching yourself onto jay and tackling him to the ground.

"you're so fucking full of yourself," you seethed, eyes locked on his, fury bubbling under your skin. "you walk around like you own the whole damn world." jay smirked, taking another step forward, forcing you to lift your head to keep glaring at him. "maybe because i do." you let out a humorless laugh, crossing your arms which, unbeknownst to you, pushed up your chest under your tank top. "god, you're insufferable." 

jay swallowed a groan, he held in everything in him whenever you'd show up in your tiny shirts and skirts. giving a clear opportunity for  his gaze to wander down your form.

he wondered if you wore those things intentionally— if you’d bend down in front of him with purpose, and genuinely, he was starting to think so. all the times you'd brush up against him when wearing your little skirts — how you'd push up your chest when you'd cross your arms in frustration — it was slowly driving him insane.

his eyes flickered over your posture, his smirk deepening as he watched your chest rise and fall heavily. "and yet, you're still here."

"i didn’t have a choice!" you snapped. "if it were up to me, i wouldn't be within ten miles of you."

he hummed, looking entirely too amused. "funny, considering the way you're looking at me right now."

your jaw clenched as you glared at him, "and how am i looking at you exactly?" jay tilted his head, studying you like he knew your every thought, every single fucking move you made. like he could see right through you— the way your breath came a little quicker, the way your fists weren't just curled in anger but in restraint of jumping his bones.

his voice dropped, soft but teasing. "like you want me."

your stomach flipped violently.

"fuck you," you spat.

his smirk didn't waver. "say the word, princess."

your whole body burned.

you wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face, to shove him away, to yell at him until you couldn’t. but you also wanted to have him bend you over in the kitchen right then and now.

you sucked in a sharp breath, shaking your head. "this is ridiculous." jay took another step forward, erasing the last bit of space between you. his chest nearly brushed yours, his scent clean, musky, and undeniably him—flooding your senses.

thank god, seojun was asleep.

you refused to back down. refused to be the first to move. you maintain eye contact, your eyes flickering to his lips occasionally making your breath stutter.

his voice dropped lower, rough around the edges. "tell me to stop."

you should.

but you didn't.

because deep down, you knew this had been building for years. every heated glance, every sharp-tongued remark, every little touch that lasted a second too long—it had all been leading to this very moment.

you liked pushing him.

you weren't stupid, you knew there was an age gap—and that's what was holding him back.

12 years.

you were 23, and jay was 35.

so what?

it wasn't like he was some old man. if anything, he was in his prime—successful, powerful, hot as fuck. he carried himself like a man who had already conquered the world and wasn't pressed about proving anything to anyone.

except, apparently, to you.

because you made him nervous.

you saw it. the way his jaw clenched whenever you got too close, the way his eyes lingered on your legs when you crossed them or how they glanced down at your chest, the way he gripped his glass just a little tighter whenever you threw some bratty comment his way.

you knew he wanted you.

so why was he still fighting it? you knew the answer before you even asked yourself.

it was the age gap. he thought it was a big deal. he thought it mattered, and that pissed you off.

because to you, it wasn't about age. it was about power.

jay hated that he wanted you. hated that you weren't intimidated by him. hated that you saw right through his self-control. that you saw the way he stiffened when you brushed past him, saw the way his eyes darkened when you tested his patience.

you liked seeing him unravel.

he acted like he was above it, like he was some mature, responsible man who didn't get affected by a girl like you.

but you knew better.

because every time you got too close, every time you laughed at his scolding—you could see his self control break.

jay's fingers brushed against your waist, testing his limits.

your breath stuttered.

his smirk widened, "what's wrong?" he murmured. "cat got your tongue?"

"noona? dad?"

jay immediately pulls back as if your touch suddenly burned him. he looks at you in shock, as if you had made the first move.

little seojun had woken up from his nap, now stumbling into the kitchen half asleep. he immediately makes his way to you when he sees you cornered into the kitchens counters. "noona, i'm hungry," he mumbles before he's reaching his arms out indicating that he wants you to pick him up. you swallow harshly, leaning down to carry him before you shoot jay a sharp glare.

"how'd you sleep, jun?" you ask the boy, rubbing his back as he slowly regains his energy.

jay watches the scene with a heavy heart, seeing you and seojun get along was endearing. he never expected to see his son get close to another woman this way, let alone you—not after his wife.

"good. what were you and dad doing?"

you immediately whip your head around to stare at jay who looked equally as shocked.

"uhm."

"i was just helping, __ with her uh...hair. it got stuck in her necklace," jay fibbed, nervous that his son would catch onto his lies. he mentally curses himself for making his son so smart.

seojun just nods, still half asleep. "__, hair is long. pretty."

you smile down at seojun who has his head leaned against your chest. it was a rare occurrence that the little boy wasn't on your ass and teasing you, so you basked in his innocent silence.

"well, i'll be going now," jay coughs out lamely, turning around and walking out of the kitchen.

you roll your eyes, "what does junnie want to eat?"

"grilled cheese!"

"grilled cheese it is."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the day had been long and draining, filled with the usual chaos of babysitting seojun.

"noona, you burnt this side."

"the waters too cold, you're going to turn me into a popsicle!"

"it's a shame that you're not improving on your lego skills."

you had spent most of your day absorbed in your own thoughts, determined to keep your distance from jay's constant, prickly presence. you didn't know what was going between the two of you, but the constant teasing and proximity was starting to affect you—and you did not like that. but nothing could have prepared you for the moment when you saw his car pull into the driveway again.

it was late in the afternoon, your mind occupied with tidying up the living room after seojun's afternoon nap when you heard footsteps approaching. you looked up just in time to see jay step through the front door—this time, accompanied by a woman whose presence sent an unfamiliar twist of jealousy and confusion through your chest.

she was striking: tall, elegantly dressed, her dark hair falling perfectly around her shoulders. for a split second, your mind raced with possibilities. was she just a friend? a casual companion? or something more? the answer was not provided—jay made no attempt to introduce her with any clarity. he simply walked past you with a polite nod, the woman silently following at his side—not acknowledging your presence.

the bitter taste of jealousy swarmed you, she was exactly what you'd think jay would go for in a woman. beautiful and sophisticated.

you forced a neutral expression as you went about your tasks, though inside you seethed. you couldn't help but notice the way jay's hand briefly brushed against hers, the soft laughter they exchanged in the hallway, as if they shared an intimacy that you weren't meant to be a part of. every detail stung, and you kept your face impassive, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you riled up.

the rest of the night passed in a haze of quiet tension. seojun remained asleep in his room, unaware of the storm brewing between you and jay. you moved through your duties with mechanical efficiency, silently cursing the timing of his unexpected guest. every time you caught a glimpse of jay glancing in her direction or sharing a private smile, a bitter mixture of jealousy and humiliation washed over you. you had no idea why you felt this way—jay was never yours, and you were only here to babysit his son. yet, every little detail of that moment lingered painfully in your mind.

you wondered if the woman was seojun's mother, they shared a resemblance of some kind. jay had never mentioned seojun's mother before, and you had never asked. all you knew was jay was a single parent and the mother of his child was simply not in the picture.

unable to bear the emotional turmoil, you decided to leave earlier than usual. you slipped out of the house quietly, leaving a brief note on the counter that simply read, "i'm done for today." the cool night air hit your face as you got into the car, your driver picking you up.

the next morning, you arrived at jay's house for your babysitting shift, your mood still dark and distant. as usual, jay greeted you at the door with his characteristic calm, yet something in his eyes held a note of confusion. "good morning, __," he said, his tone neutral. "i'm glad you're here."

oh, are you now?

you gave a curt nod and stepped inside without making eye contact. throughout the day, you kept your responses short and your distance intentional. jay tried several times to spark small talk, commenting on seojun's behavior, asking how your night was—but you offered nothing more than a hum and silent stubborn stares.

by late afternoon, the tension had grown almost unbearable. the usual spark that might have accompanied a playful banter was replaced by a wall of silence that left the air thick. finally, after seojun was settled in his room for a nap, jay approached you in the quiet of the kitchen.

the silence in the room was palpable as you stood there, hands on your hips, glaring at jay. his presence in the room felt overwhelming, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, never leaving yours. you were getting under his skin, and you could feel it.

the problem was, you liked it.

"you've been so difficult all day," he muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. "what's your problem?"

you crossed your arms, taking an exaggerated step back, trying to assert some space between you and him. the way his eyes followed you made the hairs on your neck stand up, and you hated it. you hated the effect he had on you. you hated how badly you wanted him even though you knew you never could.

"my problem? you're the one being impossible! i didn't sign up for this. i'm not your babysitter," you snapped, fighting the urge to back down. "your son isn't even the issue. it's you."

actually, it's the woman you brought home yesterday.

he raised an eyebrow, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "me? you're the one acting like a spoiled brat. maybe you should learn some patience."

your fingers clenched at your sides. the way he spoke to you, like he was trying to control you, was beyond irritating. you took another step back, but jay didn't move. instead, he shifted, closing the distance between the two of you in one fluid motion, trapping you against the counter. his chest was a mere inch from yours, his presence suffocating. it humoured you that you two always ended up on the same position, jay closing in on you.

"i don't need a bratty attitude right now. i've had a long day, and the last thing i need is you making it worse," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the edge to it sent a shiver down your spine.

"long day? you've been home all day! what's even the point of me being here if you're going to be up my ass," you hiss.

"__, enough," his tone low as he warned you.

your heart raced as you stared up at him. "what are you going to do about it, huh?" you shot back, not wanting to back down. you didn't know what it was about the situation. maybe it was the tension, how he made you feel when he was this close, or maybe it was just that damned smirk on his face.

jay's eyes darkened, a spark of something dangerous in them. "i think you need a reminder of who's in charge here."

your breath hitched, and you could feel the heat building between you, but you refused to give in. you had enough, you didn't need to deal with him. you pushed past him, walking toward the kitchen, only to feel a firm grip on your arm—strong, unyielding.

"don't walk away from me," jay growled, spinning you around to face him. you were so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off of his body.

his grip on your arm was firm and rough, but not rough enough to where it hurt. his knuckles turned white as he tries to hold himself back from pushing you against the nearest wall and have you at his mercy.

you glared up at him, your face flushed from the proximity and the argument, but you knew you weren't going to let him win. "you don't control me, jay," you said, trying to keep the defiance in your voice.

he smirked again, stepping closer so your arm was planted against his chest, forcing you to tilt your head just enough to meet his gaze. the air between you crackled with uncontrollable tension, keeping you on your toes for god knows how long. "you keep acting like this, and i'll make sure you know exactly who's in charge."

your breath caught. something shifted in the way he looked at you—a warning, a promise, a dare. the line between anger and attraction was blurring, and you weren't sure where one ended and the other began.

before you could respond, he stepped forward, backing you against the kitchen counter, again. his hand found the counter beside your hip, trapping you in place. his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, his jaw tense.

"look at me," he said, voice low, almost a rasp. "if you want to keep pushing my buttons, go ahead. but i'll make sure you regret it."

your heart raced in your chest, your breath shallow, but you kept the same defiant expression. "you think you can scare me, jay?"

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "i don't need to scare you, __. i just need to show you what happens when you push too far."

you stood there, rooted to the spot — your body trembling under the weight of his words,  the unbreakable tension that had emerged between you two. his fingers brushed against your arm, and for a moment, you could feel the undeniable pull. the fight between you was reaching a breaking point, and you didn't know which way it would go.

but for the first time, you weren't sure if you wanted to fight anymore.

the tension was unbearable, and in the silence that followed, jay's hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. your body responded before your mind could—his lips brushed against yours in the smallest of touches, enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. he pulled back just as quickly, a dangerous smirk on his lips. "you're lucky i don't have time for this right now," he muttered, his tone sharp, but there was something else beneath it—a flicker of something more intense. "but don't think for a second this is over."

with that, he stepped back, giving you space to breathe again. you were left standing there, caught between fury and something else you couldn't quite name. your heart was racing, your mind spinning, but you refused to let him see how much he affected you. you turned away, trying to steady your breath, but the tension between you two was getting overbearing. it wasn't over. you both knew that.

but one thing was for sure—you were both playing a dangerous game. and neither of you was ready to stop.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the kitchen was quiet, the only sound being the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. you leaned your head against your hand, staring off into space and you rethink all of your life decisions.

you had spent more time at jay's home than your own for the last month—not that you minded. as much as you hated to admit, seojun had grown on you. what you hated was how you didn't get to enjoy your summer how you originally wished, with your friends—getting drunk and high, maybe dosing on random shit at some frat party.

minho had been blowing up your phone for the last few weeks, asking, no—begging to hang out.

"__, why have you left me?" he groaned dramatically into your ear when you finally picked up his calls.

you rolled your eyes, "i told you i was going to be trapped, but no, you didn't want to take me seriously."

"i didn't think that you'd have any days off. can you ask for one day off, please? i miss my best friend," he pleas. if you could see him right now, he'd most definitely be flashing puppy dog eyes at you.

you sighed, "fine, i'll try to ask jay. but if he says no and i get scolded, i swear to god.” you'd ask jay if you could have the weekend off when he got back home.

you sat perched on one of the barstools, one knee drawn up, the other foot lazily swinging. your fingers traced the rim of a glass of water you hadn't even taken a sip from. seojun had gone to bed over an hour ago, his tiny body curled up under his blankets, blissfully unaware that his father still wasn't home.

you, on the other hand, were all too aware.

your phone sat face-up on the counter beside you, dark and undisturbed. no messages. no missed calls. nothing.

jay was late. really late.

your brows knitted together in irritation. you weren't sure why you cared so much—it wasn't your problem if he wanted to stay out all night. you weren't his wife, his girlfriend, or even someone he owed an explanation to. you were just the babysitter, forced into the role by your father's guilt. but something about his absence, about the way he hadn't even bothered to check in, made irritation simmer beneath your skin.

your knee bounced impatiently as you stared at the front door, waiting.

then, finally—the sound of keys jingling.

the door swung open, and jay stepped inside, looking unfairly put together for someone who had clearly spent the night out. his dark button-up was slightly unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms. his black dress pants hung low on his hips, and his hair—slightly tousled like he'd run his fingers through it. he looked so good it made your stomach twist in frustration.

he barely even looked at you at first. instead, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he kicked off his shoes. it was only when he turned toward the kitchen that his eyes finally met yours.

he slowed to a stop.

you pretended not to notice the way his gaze flickered down, the momentary pause as his eyes dragged over your frame. you were only wearing a thin tank top and an old pair of shorts—the kind you only ever wore to bed, soft and barely covering your thighs. but the way jay's eyes darkened for just a split second, the way his jaw tensed, told you everything you needed to know.

he was flustered.

good.

he covered it quickly, masking whatever flicker of thoughts had just crossed his mind with that insufferable smirk of his.

"you're still up?" he asked, his voice as smooth as ever.

you rolled your eyes, shifting in your seat just enough to make the hem of your shorts ride up slightly. "obviously."

jay's gaze flickered downward again, just for a second. you caught it, and your lips twitched. "what, were you waiting for me?"

you scoffed, tilting your head. "don't flatter yourself. but since i'm responsible for your kid while you're off doing god knows what, yeah, i was expecting you to come home at a reasonable hour." jay exhaled sharply, finally stepping fully into the kitchen. he walked past you to the fridge, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders squared slightly—like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts had just plagued his mind.

"seojun was fine, wasn't he?" he asked, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off.

"that's not the point," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. "the least you could do is let me know when you're coming home late. or is common courtesy too much to ask from a man like you?"

"plus, what's this sudden trust coming from? just a week ago you talked about how you had to monitor me because you didn't trust me to take care of seojun." jay let out a low chuckle, taking a slow sip of water before leaning back against the counter.

"jesus, you're dramatic," he muttered, shaking his head. "were you worried about me?" completely ignoring the other things you had said. 

you clenched your jaw. "no," you lied smoothly. "i just don't appreciate being left in the dark. i'm not some live-in nanny, jay. if i'm stuck here, i at least deserve to know when you're coming home. look at the time, it's 1am, what time do i even go home?” his tongue ran over his bottom lip as he tilted his head slightly. "you're acting like i abandoned you here with seojun."

"you might as well have."

jay exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed now. "you really don't let shit go, do you?" you smiled sweetly. "not when it's my time being wasted."

he shook his head, muttering something under his breath. then, after a beat, he glanced back up at you, his gaze sharp and unreadable."or maybe," he said, voice slower, "this isn't about me coming home late at all."

your stomach twisted, but you refused to let your expression falter. jay took a step closer, arms crossing over his chest. "maybe this is about something else." you scoffed. "like what?" his lips twitched like he knew something you didn't. "like the other night," he murmured. your brows furrowed, but he didn't give you time to respond. 

"you're mad about the woman i brought home." your body tensed before you could stop it, and that slight reaction was all jay needed to confirm his suspicions. his smirk widened.

"i don't care who you bring home," you said quickly, hoping he wouldn't call you out on how unconvincing you sounded. "mm," jay hummed, unconvinced. "so if i told you that woman was mi-na, my sister, you wouldn't feel stupid for being jealous?"

you blinked. the irritation in your chest fizzled out for a moment, replaced by confusion. "your—your sister?" jay's grin widened. "yeah. my little sister. the one who came to visit for the weekend." your face burned. you had spent the past two days brooding over nothing.

but you refused to let him win.

"whatever," you muttered, crossing your arms again—the action causing your tits to spill out of from the top. "i wasn't jealous." his eyes immediately zero in on your chest, swallowing harshly before he lets out a chuckle—stepping closer. you could feel the warmth of his body now, his scent lingering in the space between you. "yeah?" he murmured, voice dipping. "then why are you blushing?"

"i'm not."

jay reached out, his fingers grazing the hem of your shorts before ghosting over your hip. his touch was barely there, but it made your breath hitch, "you sure?"

your heart pounded. your skin tingled where his fingers had been. but you refused to back down. "you're insufferable," you gritted out. jay smirked, his fingers teasing along your hip before pulling away just as quickly. "and yet, you're still here."

"forced to be here," you mutter under your breath, but jay heard it. your body was on fire, your skin still warm from where he had touched you. but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "i hate you," you muttered, turning away. jay only chuckled, voice rich with amusement. "whatever you say, princess."

you rolled your eyes at him, getting off of the barstool as you make your way to the living room to grab your belongings and change out of your clothes—preparing to go home. "wait. stay the night, it's late," he says coolly, his eyes racking down your frame as you bend down to grab your things.

your shorts had bunched over your ass, your legs on full display to his hungry eyes. jay mentally slaps himself for his gaze, but it continues to linger. you scoff, "and who's fault is that?" jay sighs, his brows furrowing, "quit being a brat. i'll get a room set up for you," and with that he walks away—setting his decision into stone.

as much as you wanted to argue, to remind him that you had your own place to go back to. jay had already walked off, leaving no room for discussion. "asshole," you muttered under your breath, but you still set your bag down on the couch with an annoyed sigh.

jay's house was big—too big for just him and seojun. it had that cold, modern look, with spotless marble floors and sleek furniture, the kind that felt more like a showroom than a home. you doubted he spent much time here outside of work and parenting, and somehow, that made it worse.

you waited a few minutes before deciding to move, begrudgingly heading toward the guest room he'd set up for you. it was next to his, with seojun just down the hall. as you stepped inside, you had to admit—he at least had good taste. the bed was huge, covered in soft gray sheets, and the room smelled faintly of clean linen.

but there was one problem.

the pillows sucked. they were flat and thin, one would think that someone as rich as jay had good quality pillows. with a dramatic huff, you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling before finally giving in to your annoyance. you deserved at least one decent pillow if you were being forced to stay here. without much thought, you swung your legs off the bed and padded down the hall toward jay's room. the door was slightly ajar, and you didn't bother knocking—if he was going to boss you around all night, you had no problem returning the favor.

"hey, do you have—"

you stopped dead in your tracks, mouth suddenly dry.

jay was standing near his dresser, shirtless, his toned back facing you as he ruffled a towel through his damp hair. he must have just taken a shower because his skin still glistened slightly, water droplets trailing down the sharp lines of his shoulders and back. your eyes dipped lower, taking in the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips, revealing just enough of the defined v-line that disappeared beneath the waistband. you should've looked away. you should've turned around and walked out like you hadn't just shamelessly checked him out.

but you didn't.

instead, you stood there, gripping the doorframe a little too hard as heat crept up your neck. jay finally noticed your presence, turning slightly to glance over his shoulder. his dark eyes flickered with amusement as he caught the way you quickly averted your gaze.

"something you need?" his voice was deeper, rougher, probably from exhaustion, but it still sent an embarrassing shiver down your spine. you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "i need another pillow." his lips twitched, and you hated the way his smirk made your stomach flip. "you barged into my room for a pillow?"

"it's not my fault the ones in the guest room suck," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. jay turned fully now, walking toward you with that lazy confidence that always managed to get under your skin. you took an instinctive step back, but he reached the doorway before you could fully escape, his tall frame now blocking your path.

"you always this demanding, or do you just save it for me?" he mused, tilting his head slightly as his eyes dragged over your face, down to the curve of your throat, lingering there a second too long. your breath caught, but you refused to let him have the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. "i wouldn't have to demand anything if you had done it right the first time."

jay let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "always got an attitude." you were about to snap back when you noticed his gaze flicker downward, his smirk faltering for just a second. it was quick, barely noticeable, but you caught it—the way his eyes lingered on your tank top. his eyes zeroed in on your chest, you had taken off your bra when you got into the room—your nipples poking out of the thin fabric.

you raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at your lips now. "something wrong?" jay's jaw ticked, and just like that, his expression was back to that unreadable mask. "go to bed, __." you should've listened. you should've taken the damn pillow he handed you and walked out. but the way his voice had dropped an octave, the way his fingers had brushed against yours when he passed it to you, sent a thrill through you that you weren't ready to let go of just yet.

so instead, you lingered.

"why? am i making you nervous?" you teased, tilting your head up at him, watching for any crack in his composure. jay let out a low breath, his hand gripping the doorframe as he leaned in just slightly. "trust me," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "if you were making me nervous, you'd know." the air between you was heavy, thick with something unspoken, something that neither of you were willing to address just yet.

but it was there. and it wasn't going anywhere.

jay finally took a step back, running a hand through his still-damp hair before nodding toward the hall. "go to bed, __." this time, you listened. but as you walked back to your room, pillow in hand, you couldn't ignore the way your skin still burned from his gaze. and from the way he had looked at you, you knew you weren't the only one feeling it.

it was just a matter of time before one of your cracked.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the sizzle of bacon filled the kitchen as you flipped another pancake onto the growing stack. you had seriously improved on your cooking skills in the last month you had been taking care of seojun. the pancakes were round, crispy and the perfect shade of golden brown.

the morning light streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over the countertops. you had woken up early, deciding to make seojun's favorite breakfast before he got up.

but, apparently, you weren't the only one awake.

a warm presence appeared behind you, and before you could react, a large hand reached out toward the plate. without looking, you smacked it away. "ow," jay muttered, shaking his hand. "what the hell?"

"it's for seojun." you barely spared him a glance as you poured more pancake batter into the pan. jay let out a low, sleepy sigh, ruffling his already messy hair. his dark strands fell over his forehead, making him look effortlessly good despite just rolling out of bed. dressed in sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt, he leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy gaze.

curse him for looking so good.

"so i don't get breakfast?" he asked, a small pout gracing his face. 

"nope," you said simply, reaching for another egg. he scoffed, pushing off the counter to stand beside you, crowding your space. "wow. what kind of babysitter are you? neglecting the person who actually pays you." you rolled your eyes. "oh, please. you don't pay me."

"you live in my house, eat my food, use my water." his voice was dripping with smugness. "sounds like payment to me." you narrowed your eyes at him. "your house? last i checked, my dad is the reason you even have half your company's assets."

jay just smirked, watching the way your brows furrowed in irritation. he loved getting under your skin. before you could throw another insult his way, you decided to change the subject. "anyway, i wanted to ask if i could have the weekend off. i wanna go out with my friends." jay, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, barely reacted. "fine."

you blinked. that was easy. too easy.

"minho's driving, so i don't have to worry about taking my car, that means no chance for accident. he's a pretty good driver, i actually learned how to drive from him," you added casually, turning back to the stove. jay froze. the silence was thick enough to make you glance over your shoulder. his expression had darkened. his grip on his coffee mug tightened.

"he?"

you frowned. "yeah. minho. my friend." jay set his mug down slowly, the sound of ceramic meeting marble eerily sharp. "no."

you turned fully to face him. "no?"

jay leaned against the counter, his posture too relaxed, too controlled. but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "you're not going."

your brows shot up. "why not?" jay took another sip of his coffee, completely unfazed. "i need you here."

you scoffed. "for what?"

"seojun likes having you around."

"seojun will be fine for one weekend,” you retorted. jay tilted his head, pretending to think. "hmm. no, i don't think so." 

you let out an exasperated laugh. "you literally just said i could go." jay shrugged. "i changed my mind."

"bullshit," you snapped. jay's eyes flickered with something dangerous. "watch your mouth."

you rolled your eyes. "you're just mad because minho is a guy." jay didn't react at first. then, slowly, he placed his coffee cup down and took a step closer to you.

got him.

you refused to back away. "you don't know what you're talking about," he said, voice low, controlled. "don't i?" you shot back, all of sudden feeling smug. "it's not my fault you can't stand the idea of me spending time with another man." 

jay's jaw ticked. "this isn't about me."  you let out a humorless laugh. "sure it isn't." he stepped even closer, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. the space between you was nonexistent, his body radiating heat.

"you think i care that much?" his voice was nearly a whisper now, but there was an edge to it. "you think i'm losing sleep over who you spend your time with?" you smirked. "seems like it."

you were right.

jay's fingers curled into fists at his sides. you could feel the restrained tension rolling off of him in waves. "you're not going," he said again, this time firmer. you crossed your arms. "and what if i do?"

jay exhaled through his nose, his patience running thin. "you won't," he said simply, his confidence making your skin prickle with irritation. "watch me," you challenged. jay's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk but wasn't amusement either. "you really wanna test me right now?" the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to show weakness.

"maybe i do," you whispered. jay's gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before he clenched his jaw and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "fine," he muttered, grabbing his coffee. "do whatever the hell you want."

you frowned. that was... unexpected.

he turned on his heel and walked toward the living room. but then, just as he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. "but don't come crawling back when you realize no one else can handle you like i do."

and with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, fists clenched.

jay cursed at himself for wearing his feels on his sleeve. it felt wrong for him to feel the way he did about you. jay hated thinking about the numbers.

12 years. he was 12 years older than you. it shouldn't have mattered.

right?

jay had spent his whole life doing whatever the hell he wanted, without a single care for what people thought. he made decisions with confidence, stood by them, and never looked back. but with you? you made him hesitate.

you were 23. young, reckless, still figuring out life. and jay? he was 35, a father, a man who had seen and done everything—a man who should have known better. but fuck, he didn't feel old when he was around you.

you were a problem. not because you were immature. no, that wasn't it. you were sharp, stubborn as hell, constantly challenging him, constantly making him feel like he was the one being tested. but that was the problem.

you weren't a little girl with naive ideas about love and life. you were a grown woman, a dangerous woman, who looked at him like he was something worth teasing, something worth playing with.

and he let you. god, he let you.

you tested his patience like no one else. you talked back, you got under his skin, you pushed him to his limit. you walked around his house like you belonged there, like you belonged to him. in those tiny shorts and tight tops, throwing him looks you knew would drive him up the wall.

it wasn't just the way you looked. it was the way you knew. you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and jay hated himself for liking it. because he shouldn't want you.

he shouldn't want you the way he did—shouldn't think about you at night. he shouldn't imagine what it would be like to take what you clearly wanted to give him. he told himself, over and over, that it was just a stupid attraction. that it was nothing more than an itch he could ignore. he had to hold himself back from giving into your temptations every time he had you cornered, telling himself that it was wrong.

but his restraint was starting to fall weak. 

but then you'd bite your lip and roll your eyes at him. or you'd throw some snarky remark his way, just to get a reaction. or worse—you'd act like he wasn't a threat at all, like he was just some older guy who didn't intimidate you in the slightest.

it fucking killed him. because the truth was, the age gap only mattered when it worked against him. when it made him hesitate. when it made him question himself.

but when you smiled at him like that—when you pushed his buttons and made him feel like a man, not a father, not a boss, not some guy who should be acting his age.

he didn't give a fuck about the numbers. and he surely didn't give a fuck about some boy who thought he could have you, when you belonged here—with him.

this wasn't over. not by a long shot.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

you had been looking forward to this all week.

a night out. no responsibilities. no bratty five-year-old testing your patience. no jay fucking park. the music was loud, the bass thrumming through your body as you nursed your drink. the club was packed, neon lights flickering against a sea of bodies, and for once, you could finally breathe.

"so," minho drawled, draping an arm over your shoulders, "you gonna tell me why you've been checking your phone like a girl waiting for a text from her sneaky link?" you rolled your eyes, shoving his arm off. "i have not been checking my phone."

minho gave you a knowing look, sipping his beer. "uh-huh. so you're just casually looking down at your bag every five minutes? right." you huffed, taking a sip of your cocktail instead of responding. but then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed again.

you peeked at the screen.

jay (23 missed calls).

you turned the phone face down. minho whistled. "jesus. who the hell is blowing you up like that?" 

"no one important," you muttered. minho smirked. "sure. that's why you look like you're about to throw your phone across the club." 

"it's just—" you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "it's jay. he thinks he owns my time." minho raised an eyebrow. "the rich, single-dad jay?"

"the asshole jay," you corrected.

"so why don't you answer?"

"because i'm off tonight," you said, exasperated. "and whatever he wants can wait." minho chuckled. "damn. he must be real desperate if he's calling you this much."

you were about to brush it off, but then another buzz. you groaned. "i swear to god, if this man does not—"

but then you read the message.

jay: seojun has a fever. it's bad. he keeps asking for you.

your stomach dropped. "shit," you muttered, grabbing your bag.

minho frowned. "wait, seriously? you're actually going?" 

"it's not for him," you said quickly. "it's for seojun." minho sighed, grabbing your wrist before you could dart off. "you really think this isn't a setup?"

you hesitated.

minho's voice softened. "look, i don't know this dude. but if he's calling this much, and now suddenly the kid is sick on the one night you're not there? sounds sketchy as hell."

"minho," you sighed. "i don't have time for this." minho raised his hands in surrender. "fine, fine. but if he's lying, you owe me a drink."

"deal." you had practically sprinted out of the club, gotten into a cab, and rushed over in record time.

when you got to jay's house, you were pissed. the second you stepped inside, you knew something was off. the house was dimly lit, silent. too silent. you stormed down the hall toward seojun's room, but before you could even reach for the door the sound of clapping stops you.

slow, deliberate claps echoed behind you. you turned, and there he was. jay park, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, wearing a smirk that made your blood boil. "look who finally decided to show up."

your heart was still racing, the adrenaline from the panic you felt for seojun's health still surging through your veins. but now, it wasn't panic—it was anger. "what the hell is wrong with you?" his voice was low, rough, his grip firm around your wrist as he yanked you away from seojun's room and into his own—slamming the door shut behind you.

your heart pounded, still catching up to everything. rushing out of the party, speeding over here, the sickening worry that had settled in your gut the moment you saw his message about seojun. but now, standing here, looking at him, you soon realized. seojun wasn't sick.

the house was quiet, the lights dim. you peeked past jay, your brows furrowing. "where's seojun?"

"asleep," he said, his tone maddeningly casual. your eyes snapped back to his. "what?" jay didn't let go of your wrist, his grip tightening just slightly as he stepped closer. "he's asleep," he repeated, slower this time, like he was spelling it out for you.

the realization hit, sharp and cold. "you lied to me?" his jaw clenched. "what was i supposed to do, huh?" you yanked your arm back, glaring. "i don't know, maybe not fucking manipulate me?"

jay's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk, but held just enough arrogance to make you want to slap it off his face. "and if i didn't? you would've stayed out all night with him?" you exhaled sharply through your nose, shaking your head. "are you serious?" jay stepped forward, closing the space between you in an instant. your breath caught when your back hit the wall, his body mere inches from yours.

"tell me," he murmured, voice lower now, softer—but no less dangerous. "did he touch you?" your stomach flipped, heat rushing up your spine. "minho is my friend," you gritted out.

jay's hand lifted, fingers brushing against your chin. "did he touch you?" he asks again, his tone threatening. you turned your head away, jaw clenching. "you're insane." his fingers caught your chin, gently but firmly turning your face back to his. "i don't like repeating myself, sweetheart."

the pet name sent something electric through your veins. you hated that it did. "and i don't like being controlled," you shot back, voice sharp.

jay let out a quiet chuckle, dark and humorless. "funny, because you sure came running when i told you to." your face burned. you hated that he was right. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, almost absentmindedly, like he was testing something. his eyes flickered down for a fraction of a second, then back up. you hated that even now, with how pissed you were, your body still reacted to him. the way he carried himself, the way he looked at you, the way his voice dipped just low enough to make your stomach flip. you shook your head, trying to push past him, but jay grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

"let me go," you snapped. "or what?" his grip didn't tighten, but he didn't let go either. "you gonna run back to him?"

your brows furrowed. "what?" jay exhaled a short, humorless laugh. "minho," he bit out, like the name itself annoyed him. "you think i don't know where you were? at the club. surrounded by men. men that would eat you alive if you gave them the chance."

you glared. "you don't get to be mad about that." his eyes darkened. "the hell i don't." you tugged your arm back, finally breaking free. "you're not my fucking boyfriend, jay. i don't owe you anything."

his jaw ticked, but he didn't say anything. you scoffed. "god, this is ridiculous. i'm leaving." before you could take another step, jay moved. one second you were standing there, and the next, your back was against the wall, jay towering over you, his hands planted beside your head.

"you're not going anywhere," he murmured. your breath hitched. "you ran the second you thought seojun needed you," he said, voice lower now, rougher. "but what about when i need you, huh?"

your chest tightened. "you—" jay leaned in, his lips barely an inch from yours. "you think i don't see it?" your pulse pounded against your skin. "see what?" you respond, almost breathless. his hand lifted, fingers brushing over your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his, "how bad you want me."

your breath stuttered. "you can play your little games all you want, sweetheart," jay murmured. "but we both know where you belong." 

"you belong here," he murmured. "not out there, playing games with some guy who doesn't even know what to do with you." your breath hitched. "and you do?" jay didn't answer immediately. he just looked at you—really looked at you. his hand moved, sliding down the side of your neck, fingers grazing over your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath his touch.

then, he leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. "you have no idea."

your breath hitched. he was so close now, his cologne wrapping around you, his body heat pressing into yours. you swallowed hard. "you don't own me, jay."

his jaw ticked. "maybe not." his gaze dropped, trailing down your frame. you were still in your club outfit—tight dress, heels, your skin still warm from the alcohol. his tongue darted out, running over his bottom lip. "but you still came running, didn't you?"

your pulse pounded in your ears, attempting to move out of his hold only for him to pin you down with his hips. "you're not leaving," he murmured, voice dangerously low. you lifted your chin defiantly. "watch me."

jay exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "you're so fucking difficult."

"because i don't let you control me?" you shot back. he tilted his head. "because you pretend you don't like it."

your stomach flipped. jay leaned in, so close his breath ghosted over your cheek. "you want me to let you go?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft.

your throat bobbed. his fingers traced the inside of your wrist, featherlight, sending shivers up your arm. "say the word," he whispered. "say you don't like it when i tell you what to do."

your heart hammered against your ribs. but you didn't say anything.

because you didn't want to lie.

jay smirked. "thought so." his thumb brushed against your jaw, tilting your chin up. your lips were inches apart. you were still angry. furious. but that fury burned into something else, something hotter, something more dangerous. you should leave. you should shove him away.

but you didn't move. neither did he.

and in that moment, you both knew. you weren't going anywhere.

his eyes narrow down to your lips, something switches in his gaze—almost as if he had finally had enough.

"fuck this," he mutters lowkey before he's crashing his lips onto yours. your eyes widen in surprise, feeling his lips mold onto your own as you stand frozen in shock. you feel jay run his hands down your side, situating themselves on your ass as he squeezes your fleshy mounds. you gasp into his mouth, jay seizing the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

you moan when you feel jay grip your bare ass, lifting your short dress up to your hips—your arms wrapping around his neck as you push yourself up against him. "you think you can go see other men while you spend your days with me and my son?" he says against your lips, his grip on you getting rougher as pushes your dress up higher. you groan against him, "minho is my—" you try to explain only for a sharp smack to interrupt you.

he had spanked you.

your mouth drops open in shock, "what the f—" jay's hauling you up, your legs now wrapped around his waist as he pushes you down on his painfully hard cock. "i don't care who he is. you're not to be alone with another man," he says gruffly, dropping you down onto his bed.

you're flat against his soft linen sheets, legs now spread apart roughly by jay who stares down at you with a dark glint in his eyes. you glare up at him, breathless. "you can't tell me what to do." jay scoffs, leaning over you, one hand gripping your thigh as he spreads you open further. "the hell i can't," he murmurs, voice low and rough. "you think you can act like a brat, push me to my limit, and then run off to another man?"

"it's not like that," you argue, voice shaking, but he just smirks, eyes flickering down to where your dress is bunched up around your waist. "doesn't matter," he says, dragging a rough hand up your thigh. "you're mine. do you understand that?" you bite your lip, refusing to answer, which only makes jay angrier. he grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. "say it," he demands. "say you're mine."

you tilt your head defiantly. "make me." jay lets out a dark chuckle, his grip tightening. "oh, you don't want me to do that, sweetheart." he leans in, lips brushing against your ear. "because if i do, you won't be able to walk out of here, much less run to him."

"yeah right," you scoff, taking his threats lightly but your heart still stutters in your chest. his chest heaves up and down erratically, as if he was fighting himself from what he was about to do to you. his expression turning grim at his words yet his eyes sparking up in excitement. he finally had you where he wanted you, and not even god could pull him away.

he reaches to pull off his shirt, your mouth watering when you see his toned abdomen come into sight. jay took pride in his body, eating well and working out consistently to maintain himself throughout his years.

he grabs your hips roughly, a small squeal leaving your mouth when he drags you to the edge of the bed—your core connecting with his crotch. your legs wrap around his waist automatically while he kneels on the bed—looming over you. jay's hand grips your waist firmly as he stares down at you, his jaw tight with frustration. "you really don't listen, do you?"

you smirk up at him, still feeling defiant. "i listen just fine. i just don't take orders from you." his eyes darken at your words, and before you can react, his palm comes down sharply against your thigh. the sharp sting makes you yelp, your body jerking against the bed.

your mouth drops open in shock. "jay, what the—" another smack lands, this time on the curve of your ass, harder. your whole body tenses, the heat from his palm lingering. "you don't take orders from me?" jay scoffs, pushing your legs off of him before he's flipping you over and dragging you up so you're on your hands and knees—arching your back just the way he wants. "then why do you keep acting out just to get my attention?"

"i'm not—ah!" you gasp when another slap lands, harder than before, making your skin burn. jay leans over you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "minho doesn't get to see you like this," he growls, his hand smoothing over the spot he just punished, before giving you another harsh slap.

smack!

smack!

smack!

your fingers clutch at the sheets as you let out a broken whimper. "you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice thick with possession. "and i'm going to make sure you never forget that." he looks down at the sight in front of him, just how he had always wanted you to end up. bent over for him, battling submission as he forces you into it. your behind was a bright red, your panties doing a poor job at hiding your soaked core.

"fuck," jay groans, his palm smoothing over the burning skin of your ass before landing another sharp slap. you jolt, gasping, but his grip on your waist keeps you from moving an inch. "such a fucking brat. but you love this, don't you?" you bite your lip, refusing to answer, but jay sees right through you. his fingers trail up your spine, sending shivers down your back. "you fight me, you push me, but at the end of the day—" he lands another slap, harder this time, making you cry out. "—you always end up right here."

his voice dips lower, rough with something dangerous. something raw. "you don't even realize what you do to me, do you?" he mutters, his lips brushing against your temple as he pulls you up against his chest. his breath is hot against your ear. "watching you play house with me and seojun. cooking breakfast, tucking him into bed, walking around my home like you belong here." his hands tighten on your hips, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against you with no shame.

his lips graze your jaw. "you love it too, don't you?"

"jay—"

"shh." his grip slides up, fingers curling around your throat—not tight, just enough to remind you who's in control. "you act like you don't, but i see the way you are with him. how soft you get when you think no one's watching. how you look at me when i come home late and you're the first thing i see standing in my kitchen." he chuckles darkly, dragging his lips down your neck. "you play the role so fucking well, baby. the perfect little wife—except you're still a goddamn brat." his confession makes your breath hitch. you can feel it now, how deep this runs for him. how much he's wanted this—wanted you.

"you think i don't see the way you tease me?" jay murmurs against your skin, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "walking around my house in those tiny fucking shorts, looking at me with those defiant little eyes, making me chase after you like some desperate idiot." his hand lands sharp smack on your thigh, and you let out a whimper before you can stop yourself. jay groans, gripping your throat even tighter. "fuck, i love that sound. love every little thing about you."

his words send a thrill through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. "i love this, baby," he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. "love your bratty little mouth. love putting you in your place. love how you fight me just so i can take you apart like this." he kisses the corner of your mouth, his grip firm, unrelenting. "and you love it too, don't you?" your breath is shaky, but you refuse to give in so easily. "i hate you," you whisper, even as your body melts against his. jay chuckles, dark and knowing. "you hate how much you love this."

"you're delusional."

his hands roam lower, his lips finding yours in a heated, possessive kiss. you're drowning in him, in the fire between you. and as much as you want to fight it, you already know—jay park always gets what he wants. and right now, what he wants is you. he grips your arms, a small whine escaping your mouth when he manhandles them behind you. he pushes you back down, "oh, princess. you're going to eat your own words."

you feel something wrap around your wrists, your eyes widening when you realize what he was doing. he had taken off his belt, wrapping the leather material around your arms to stop you from moving around. everything happens so quick, your pushed flat against your back with jay now face to face with your throbbing core. his fingers dug into the plush of your thigh, holding them back from closing. "look at you," he coos softly, looking at giant wet patch on your panties as you squirm in shame.

"fuck you," you spit weakly. he smirks, "we'll get to that, princess. we have all night." you mewl when you feel him lick up your covered slit, his tongue tracing up your cunt as he digs into your thighs. you buck your hips up, jay's laughter making you stop your actions. "so fucking needy. you must be so used to getting what you want, hm? my spoiled bratty princess," he hums.

you huff, "do it." he raises his eyebrows in faux confusion, "do what?"

you rolls your eyes, "take them off and eat my pussy."

his smug expression drops at your bratty words, "seems like you haven't learned anything from earlier." you open your mouth to retort only for a sharp pain between your legs to stop you. you squeal out in surprise, jay landed another strong smack to your centre. "it's okay, by the end of this i'll have you begging and crying. then you'll finally behave yourself."

your body jolts at the sharp sting between your legs, a breathy gasp slipping past your lips before you can stop it. jay tilts his head, watching you with dark amusement, his hands never loosening their grip on your thighs. "there she is," he murmurs, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles along your skin. "i was starting to think you'd never stop running your mouth." your wrists pull against the restraint of his belt, but it's useless—he's tied you up too well. the frustration bubbles in your chest, mixing with the unbearable heat pooling in your stomach.

"you're such an ass," you hiss, glaring up at him. jay only smirks, completely unfazed. "and yet, you're still here. still dripping for me." his fingers ghost over the soaked fabric of your panties, pressing down just enough to make you whimper. you try to twist away from his touch, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but jay isn't having it. he grips your hips firmly, keeping you in place, his strength making it clear that resistance is pointless.

"you keep fighting me like you have a choice," he scoffs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "but we both know how this ends, don't we, princess?" your breathing is ragged, your body betraying you as he drags his lips higher. your skin burns where he touches, and the worst part is—you want more. but you refuse to admit it.

"you're crazy," you bite out, even as your body shudders at his touch. jay chuckles, his breath hot against your core. "am i?" his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down at an agonizing pace. "because from where i'm sitting, you're the one desperate for me." the flimsy fabric landing on the floor as he situates himself right front of your leaking cunt. he pauses, eyes locking onto yours with a wicked glint. "and the best part? you know i'm right."

your lips part, a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue—but before you can say anything, jay moves, leaving you utterly speechless. his tongue comes down to run over your bare slit, moaning at the taste before he's yanking you down by your hips—nose buried into your cunt, you squeak at the sensation, his tongue gliding up at down your clenching hole as his nose nudges your clit with each movement.

"f-fuck, jay," you pant softly, your body writhing as you fight against his belt. jay grins against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds your legs back from completely suffocating him. his tongue moves slowly and skillfully, circling your clit before making its way down to your sopping hole.

he moans at your taste, not afraid of getting messy with his movements. he peers up, watching your head lull back as he begins to lick figure 8s on your clit repeatedly. your thighs tremble, your back arching off the bed as jay's tongue flicks over your swollen clit with torturous precision.

every swipe sends sparks shooting through your veins, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you tug uselessly against the belt binding your wrists, the leather only tightening the more you struggle. you whine at the almost painful sensation of being bound, his leather belt now digging into your wrists—slowly cutting of circulation. jay hums against your soaking cunt, the vibrations making you whimper. his grip on your thighs is ironclad, refusing to let you squirm away—not that you really wanted to.

you gasp when you feel his digits intrude your walls, a load moan escaping you before you could even hold yourself back. "fuck look at you, princess. you're sucking my fingers in so well," he groans, watching your cunt greedily take in his digits as he begins to roughly pound them in.

your mouth stays open in an 'o' shape as you move your hips in hopes of catching more of what he was offering. jay catches on to your movements, clicking his tongue as he looks at you smugly. "so desperate hm, princess? look at you, so fucking filthy." you whine at his words, "go fuck yours—" jay removes his fingers from your sopping cunt and smacks them down on your clit. "—oh fuck!" you sob out.

"you're going to learn to control that mouth, __. and here i was, being so gentle and kind with you. but clearly, bratty girls like you don't deserve such treatment," he tsks while teasingly rubbing your clit in small firm circles with his thumb. you scrounge your mind for an insult to throw at him before his actions take your breath.

literally.

jay moves quickly, suddenly his hand is wrapped around your throat and he's looking over your shaking and twitching body. he moves behind you, letting you lean against his strong chest as he spreads your thighs wide open—hooking his legs with your own, leaving you unable to squirm. he clamps down his hand firmly between your legs, cupping your cunt as you look up at him dumbfounded.

he gives you no answer, looking down at you with what you could only assume was pure deep dark desire. you moan out in pain, the stretch of his fingers making your eyes rolls back as jay leaves you no time to adjust. his begins to fuck three of his fingers into your cunt, his grip on your throat tightening.

"who knew you took things in you so well, hm? look at you, gushing all over my fingers," he murmurs darkly into your ear. his pace was ruthless, his palm smacking your clit with each thrust. you're a moaning mess, crying out everytime jay pushes into your gummy walls. jay had enough of the noise, moving his hand from your neck to stuff two fingers down your throat—gagging you.

you choke against his digits, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. your makeup was smeared, your mascara running down your cheeks and your lipstick smudged around your mouth—yet jay thought you looked beautiful. he could see tears run down your cheeks and saliva running down his fingers and you struggled to contain yourself. "you close, princess? i can feel you clenching around me," he grins, curling his fingers in you in a 'come here' motion.

"m'close," you try to say only for it to come out as muffled sobs due to his fingers down your throat. he smirks against your skin, "so fucking greedy. come on princess, cum for me. cum all over my fingers," he murmurs in your ear, your eyes rolling back as you feel your body violently convulse at your high. jay looks at you in surprise.

you had squirted.

"holy shit, princess." he removes his fingers from your mouth, finally letting your aching jaw rest—his thumb still rubbing at your clit, helping you ride out your high. "do you know what you just did?" he asks, his hands grabbing at your waist before hes pulling off your dress completely. you lay against him, unable to comprehend anything after you came. when you don't respond he continues, "you just squirted, princess. that's not going to waste."

he moves you away from his chest, letting you lay back against the bed before he's between your parted thighs again. he doesn't give you a chance to recover before his tongue is licking up your slit, his hands gripping the plush of your thighs—holding them back from closing in on his head. "you taste so fucking good," he growls, lifting his head just enough to watch your face twist in painful pleasure. "all that attitude, and here you are, shaking for me like a good little slut." you slowly regain your sense of thought, still hazy from before—but not enough to stop you from acting out.

you bite your lip, glaring down at him through hooded and now swollen eyes. "fuck—you," you pant, but your words lose all their venom when he dips his tongue back inside you, curling just right against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl. jay chuckles darkly, the sound sending another jolt of heat straight to your core. "still talking shit?" he pulls back, smirking at the way your hips chase his mouth. "maybe i should just leave you here, all tied up and desperate. let you think about how badly you need me."

your stomach clenches at the thought, but you force yourself to let out a weak scoff. "like you could walk away." jay's eyes darken, his fingers trailing up to circle your clit, pressing just enough to make you gasp. "try me."

you don't get the chance to respond. in one fluid motion, jay flips you onto your stomach. his weight pins you down, his hard clothed cock pressing into the curve of your ass.

"you don't get to call the shots here," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "not until i say you've earned it." you whine as he grinds against you, the friction maddening. "jay—"

"what?" his hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back. "use your words, princess. tell me what you want." you swallow hard, pride and desire warring inside you. but the way his fingers tighten in your hair, the way his cock pulses against your ass—it's too much.

"i want—fuck—i want you to fuck me," you finally admit, your voice shaking. "i'll fuck you when you stop being a brat and admit it." 

you whine, shaking your head in defiance. you had made it this far without admitting your feelings, what's a bit longer?

"say it."

you shake your head furiously, breath shaky as you glare up at him. "no." jay clicks his tongue, his grip on your waist tightening. "wrong answer, princess." you whimper, body trembling, but you still refuse to give in. you won't let him win—not like this. jay leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "you're so fucking stubborn. but you'll say it. we both know you will." your fingers curl into the sheets, your pride the only thing keeping you from giving him what he wants.

"fuck you," you grit out.

jay only laughs, shaking his head. "not until you tell me the truth." you squeeze your eyes shut, refusing to look at him. you can't. not when he's so close, not when his voice drips with that dangerous confidence that makes your heart race. he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "look at me." you do, reluctantly, your body burning under the weight of his stare.

his eyes darken. "you love this. you love me." you inhale sharply. "i—"

"say it," he commands. "say you love me, or you don't get my cock." your pride wars with your need, but jay is relentless. he watches you like he already knows he's won. you try to hold out, but his smirk deepens as he pulls away slightly, putting even more distance between you. your chest rises and falls rapidly. you can't take it anymore.

"i—" you hesitate, jaw clenching. jay waits, patient but smug. you hate him for this. you hate him for making you want him so badly.

"i love you," you finally gasp out, the words falling from your lips like a confession you've been holding in for too long. jay exhales, his smirk turning into something deeper, something real. "that's my girl," he murmurs, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your lips.

you barely have time to recover before he pulls back, eyes locking onto yours with a dark promise. "now," he breathes, "let me show you just how much i love you too." in one swift motion, he flips you back over, his hands sliding under your thighs to hook your legs over his shoulders. he leans down, his lips brushing yours, so close you can taste yourself on his tongue.

"good girls get what they want," he murmurs, his hands pulling down his boxers. and then he's pushing inside you in one sharp thrust, stretching you, filling you, stealing the breath from your lungs. your back arches off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat as jay bottoms out inside you, his grip bruising on your hips. you cry out in pain and pleasure, the stretch of his cock making you dizzy as your walls flutter around him—struggling to adjust.

"mine," he growls, his voice rough with possession. and as he starts to move, hard and deep, you realize—you always have been. the years of back and fourth bickering, dirty glares and snarky comments. all of that, had led to this moment.

jay's hips snap forward, each brutal thrust driving the air from your lungs. his cock is relentless, pistoning into your slick cunt with a rhythm that leaves no inch of you untouched. the slap of skin against skin echoes in the room, mingling with your desperate whimpers as he fucks you into the mattress. your bound hands twist against the belt, the leather biting into your wrists, but the burn only feeds the fire coursing through you. jay's fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, his grip possessive, claiming—like he wants to leave bruises. like he wants you to remember this tomorrow when you try to walk away like you always do.

"f-fuck, jay—" his name spills from your lips, ragged and broken, as he drags his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, the tip hitting that perfect spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. jay feels you clench around him, grunting as he fucks into you—making sure there was no inch of you that he hadn't touched.

one of his hands come down to grab at your tit, pinching your nipple almost painfully when you begin to close your eyes—making you whine. he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a mockery of tenderness. "what, baby? gonna come already?" his voice is rough, dripping with amusement. "you're so fucking tight around me. bet you're close, aren't you?"

you squeeze around him involuntarily, your walls fluttering as pleasure coils tighter in your belly. you don't answer, you can't. he's angling his hips just right, grinding against that swollen spot inside you with every thrust—your orgasm is right there, hovering just out of reach. jay growls, sensing it, and suddenly his thumb is on your clit, rubbing tight little circles that make your whole body jerk.

"come on," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "cum on my cock like the greedy little spoiled slut you are." you shatter. your back arches off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat as pleasure explodes through you, white-hot and consuming. your cunt clamps down around jay's cock, milking him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. he doesn't stop.

jay fucks you through it, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own release. his fingers dig harder into your hips, the pain of your high coursing through you. "gonna fill you up," he snarls, his voice thick with need. "gonna pump you so fucking full of me, you'll drip with it." the filthy promise sends another shiver through you, your oversensitive body trembling beneath his. and then he's burying himself deep, his cock twitching as he spills inside you with a groan, his hips grinding against yours to make sure every last drop is where it belongs.

you pant beneath him, boneless and wrecked, the only sound in the room the ragged pull of your breaths. jay finally pulls out, his cum already leaking from your well-used cunt. he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a slow, filthy kiss. "now," he murmurs, his thumb swiping through the mess between your thighs before pushing it past your lips, "tell me again how you feel about me."

you suck his thumb clean, your eyes locked with his. and this time, you don't bother lying.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

you wake up to the warm morning light slipping past the curtains, painting soft lines across jay's sheets. your body aches, sore in places you didn't even know could ache. your throat dry from the sounds he pulled out of you the night before.

you blink slowly, adjusting to the light. the bed is cold beside you. jay is gone. you groan softly as you shift, the soreness between your thighs making it nearly impossible to move without wincing. "jesus christ," you mutter under your breath, rolling onto your side. your fingers instinctively brush the soft cotton clinging to your skin. it's a plain white t-shirt, oversized and hanging low on your frame. his scent clings to it, to you.

your legs dangle over the side of the bed, and you wince as you slowly stand. every step is careful, every movement a reminder of what he did to you—what you let him do. you spot your phone on the nightstand and grab it with shaky fingers. it lights up immediately.

minho (12 missed calls) dad (8 messages) dad (4 missed calls)

you sigh, heart sinking a little. it all comes rushing back—what you left behind last night. the party. the lie. jay's anger. and now... the aftermath. you pull your hair up loosely and make your way downstairs, your bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. the house is eerily quiet. no tv, no kitchen sounds, no jay.

your heart sinks in your chest. your eyes dart around as you descend down the flight of stairs—no trace of him. the living room is spotless, the kitchen untouched. not even a half-drunk cup of coffee left behind.

your heart skips for a second.

did he leave?

you glance toward the hallway and peek your head into seojun's room. the little boy is still curled up under his blankets, breathing soft and steady. safe. peaceful. you step back out and stand in the middle of the quiet house, unsure of what to do with yourself. "where the hell did you go, jay..." you mutter, fingers tightening around your phone.

your thumb hovers over minho's name, but you can't bring yourself to call him. not yet. not when your body still carries evidence of last night. not when you still smell like jay. the silence around you is loud—too loud. and the way your mind spins with questions only makes it worse.

what did last night mean? 

why did he leave you alone like this?

is he even coming back?

you let out a soft sigh and head toward the kitchen, aimlessly grabbing a glass of water just to keep your hands busy. your reflection catches in the oven door—jay's shirt draped over your frame, legs bare, lips still a little swollen. you noticed that your face was clean and bare, jay had taken off your makeup last night.

well, whatever was left of it.

you look like you belong here. but for the first time. you're not sure if that's a good thing.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the sound of the front door unlocking makes you flinch slightly as you're crouched down in the living room, gathering all of seojun's toys. jay walks in like he didn't flip your world upside down last night.

"hey," he says casually, shrugging off his coat and kicking off his shoes. his voice is easy—too easy. like nothing happened. like he didn't press every button you had until you broke, until you confessed things you'd been biting your tongue about for weeks. "morning," you mutter without looking up, trying to keep your expression neutral as you tug the lid of his toy basket open.

jay steps into the living room, eyes glancing over the scene— the living room now spotless as you sit on the floor with your legs folded awkwardly under you like you hadn't spent the entire night being ruined by the man. the same man who was now acting like your confession wasn't still echoing in his ears. your phone buzzes again beside you on the couch. minho's name flashes across the screen for the sixth time that morning. you finally texted him.

minho: hey u get there ok?

minho: heeelllloooo

minho: istg if ur getting dicked down rn

minho: U SO R

minho: OMGGG

minho: u slut

minho: call me after or ill acc burn ur house down

minho: u so owe me a drink

you: i'll call u later ..

minho: U BETTERR

your dad had also called twice. he was worried, demanding to know where you'd disappeared last night. you told him the lie you'd practiced in your head: i stayed over at minho's. i'm at work now.

jay gives you a glance then, brief and unreadable. "he still asleep?" he asks, nodding toward the stairs. you nod once, "should be up soon."

jay hums. he runs a hand through his hair, moving past you both to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. no acknowledgment. not of your night together. not of your confessions. not even the smallest smirk or sly comment he's usually so quick to throw your way. it stings more than you thought it would.

"so this is just nothing?" you say quietly.  you keep your voice low, tense. "you're really going to pretend nothing happened?" jay doesn't turn around. he twists the cap off the bottle, takes a sip. "didn't say that."

"then what are you doing?" you snap, standing. you're still in his clothes—his t-shirt drowning your frame and his sweatpants tied loose around your waist. "you spent all night dragging it out of me. making me say things i wasn't ready to admit, and now what? you ignore me?" jay finally turns, his jaw set, expression unreadable. "what did you expect?" he says flatly. "you think we can just pretend like that shit doesn't complicate everything?"

you blink, stung. "you complicated it. not me. you crossed the boundaries. not me." he takes a step toward you. "you think i didn't feel it too?" he snaps. "you think this is easy for me?"

"you sure act like it is." jay's breathing hard now, his eyes dark as they search your face. "i'm trying not to make things worse. you said what you said, and yeah, i heard you. but i don't know what the hell to do with it yet. it's not like i didn't tell you how i felt."

your throat feels tight, heart racing with hurt and frustration. "then maybe you shouldn't have forced it out of me." he doesn't respond right away. just stares, like he's trying to figure out whether to argue or admit you're right. you glance away, swallowing hard. "i meant what i said," you whisper, "and i hate that i did."

jay steps closer then, enough that you can feel the heat from his body. he's silent, watching you, torn between his own emotions. "...i didn't hate hearing it," he finally says, voice lower, softer. "but i can't pretend i know what to do with it either." you don't say anything, just cross your arms tighter over your chest.

it's quiet for a long moment. then jay murmurs, "but if it means anything... i don't want you with anyone else." your gaze snaps to his. "last night wasn't just sex," he says, voice rough. "and you damn well know it." you swallow around the lump in your throat, arms still crossed tight like it'll protect you from how exposed you feel. like it'll keep your heart from beating too loud.

"so... what now?" you ask, your voice quieter than before. more hesitant. "what are we supposed to do?" jay's eyes drop, his thumb tapping against the water bottle in his hand. he looks like he wants to pace but forces himself to stay still. "i don't know," he admits. "i've been trying to figure that out since last night."

you frown. "what's stopping you?" he exhales sharply. "everything. you're 23, i'm 35. your dad would kill me if he knew what happened last night." he glances up at you. "you were just a kid when i met you."

you flinch at that. "i'm not a kid now." "i know," he says quickly, his jaw clenching. "believe me, i know. last night proved that more than anything." you look away, chewing the inside of your cheek. "you think this is just a phase? that i'll grow out of it?" jay steps closer, his voice low. "no. i think that's what scares me the most."

you meet his gaze again, your heart thudding. "...was it ever just me?" you ask, needing to know, needing to hear it. "or am i just filling a space someone else left behind?" his expression hardens slightly, like the question caught him off guard.

"is this about her?" you push, barely whispering. "seojun's mom?" jay's face shifts, something bitter and tired flashing through his features. he looks away, jaw tight. "she left the second he was born." your eyes widen in shock, "what?" 

"she didn't want to be a mom," he says flatly. "we were never in love. it was a mistake. she got pregnant, and i told her i'd raise him. she agreed and walked out of the hospital with a suitcase and a plane ticket." you stare at him, stunned. he's never talked about her. never even hinted.

"so it's just been you," you murmur. he nods. "just me. for the last 5 years." you don't know what to say. you feel your chest ache for him—for the boy upstairs, for the man who's been carrying the weight of parenthood alone, pretending like it never crushed him.

"and then you," he says, voice quieter now. "you crash into my life, literally. and then suddenly you're here, and seojun loves you, and i—" he cuts himself off. you blink. "and you...?"

his eyes lock with yours, expression unreadable as he forces himself to swallow his words, "—and i don't know how to let myself want something that feels like it'll ruin everything." you step forward this time, closing the space between you. "what if it doesn't?" jay looks at you like he wants to believe it. like the hope hurts more than the fear. you reach up slowly, resting your hand against his chest. his heart's pounding under your palm. "you don't have to protect me from this," you whisper. "just... tell me what you want."

he looks at you, his voice hoarse. "i want you." you feel it in the way he says it—like it's been sitting on his tongue for days, weeks, maybe years. like it's the one thing he's been trying not to say. your breath catches. "then why are you acting like last night never happened?"

jay exhales, finally turning away from you—unable to look you in the eye. he runs a hand through his hair and mutters, "because i don't know how to be around you without wanting more." you bite the inside of your cheek, heart pounding. "you think i don't want more too?" his back is still to you, shoulders tense. "you don't understand what more looks like with me. it's not just cute dates and taking seojun to the park. it's complicated. it's messy."

you step toward him, slowly. "i'm not scared of messy." he finally turns around, eyes meeting yours again—and this time, it's all there. the frustration. the want. the guilt. the hunger. "i forced you to say it last night," he says quietly. "i made you admit you loved me just so i could hear it. do you know how fucked up that is?"

your chest tightens. "maybe. but it doesn't make it a lie." jay doesn't say anything. his eyes just search your face like he's trying to make sense of you. the silence stretches, so loud it feels like it might shatter between you when suddenly— "daddy? noona?" a sleepy voice calls from the stairs.

you both snap your heads toward the sound. seojun stands there in his pajamas, hair sticking up in every direction, clutching his stuffed lion. jay's face softens instantly. "hey, buddy."

you blink away the emotions clogging your throat, quickly moving toward the stairs. "come on," you say gently, crouching down to his level. "you want breakfast?"

he nods, rubbing his eyes. "pancakes." you laugh softly. "you always want pancakes."

as you lead him into the kitchen, you feel jay's eyes on you the whole time. there's so much unsaid between you both, but right now, you fall into routine—mixing batter, pouring it onto the hot pan, seojun sitting on the counter watching you with half-lidded eyes. it looked like a scene out of a movie, jay admires your relationship with his son based one the circumstances the two of you had bonded. seojun loves you, and as complicated as his feelings make things—jay loves you too.

jay joins eventually, helping slice fruit, moving around you like muscle memory. and then he brushes past you to grab a plate, and his hand lingers a second too long on your waist. your breath hitches.

you don't look at him. but you feel it.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

the house was finally quiet. seojun had gone down for his nap without a fuss, leaving you sprawled across the couch in jay's living room, phone pressed to your ear.

"okay, wait—start from the beginning," minho's voice crackled through your speaker. "did he take his shirt off or did you rip it off?" you rolled your eyes with a laugh. "neither! i wasn't some feral animal."

"please, you definitely were," he teased. "i know that tone in your voice. you're trying to act like it wasn't the hottest night of your life."

"shut up," you said, biting back a smile. "you're so annoying."

"you moaned his name, didn't you? tell me you did." he then pauses, clearing his throat as he prepares his best girly impression, "oh jay! jay right there." you roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh before glancing down at the little scratch marks on your thighs. "...maybe."

minho gasped like he'd just won the lottery. "i knew it! i need the full play-by-play. what was he like? slow and sensual? aggressive? did he say something like—'you're mine now, princess'?" he deepened his voice dramatically. you snorted. "why are you like this?"

"i live through your drama. and honestly? the hot single-dad boss fantasy? ten out of ten." you rolled your eyes again, but the smile stayed on your face. "you're insane."

"no, i'm just invested. i mean, your dad's going to lose his mind when he finds out you're hooking up with his business partner. this is better than any k-drama." you were mid-laugh when a throat cleared from the doorway.

you froze. you turned your head slowly to find jay standing there—back early from his meeting, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes fixed on you with that unreadable expression he wore when he was annoyed... or worse, jealous. your heart dropped.

"i gotta go," you mumbled into the phone.

"why? what's—" you hung up before minho could finish. jay didn't say anything at first. he walked in slowly, setting his keys on the counter. his gaze stayed on you the entire time."minho, huh?" he said finally, his voice casual—but the edge was there, sharp and unmistakable. you shifted on the couch. "he's just a friend. you know that."

"yeah, i know," he said, but he didn't sound convinced. "didn't realize your 'just a friend' needed all the juicy details about what happens in my bed." you flushed. "you were eavesdropping?"

"i walked into my own house," he said coolly, raising an eyebrow. "and caught you giggling about our sex life." "we weren't giggling,” you murmur, embarrassed.  "sure," he said, stepping closer. "so you didn't tell him how good i made you feel? how you squirted all over the bed? how loud you got when i—"

"okay, stop," you cut in, face burning. "you're being jealous over nothing." he tilted his head. "maybe. or maybe i just don't like the idea of some boy thinking he's got a chance with you." you blinked in confusion, "minho doesn't—"

"he does," jay interrupted, stepping even closer. you crossed your arms, not backing down, "and what exactly are we, jay? we haven't talked about last night properly. what we did, what we are. so you suddenly get to be possessive now?" his jaw flexed. "i don't know."

that caught you off guard. "i don't know," he repeated, softer now. "i didn't plan for this to happen. i didn't plan for you. but now you're in my house, you're in my bed, and my son asks for you before he asks for me." you blinked, heart stuttering.

"i think about what this means," he said. "what your dad would say. how he'd probably try to kill me." you cracked a smile. "he would. slowly and painfully." jay didn't smile back, not finding amusement in having to deal with your father, "and what seojun would think... if he knew. if he understood."

your expression sobered. "i don't want to confuse him," jay said quietly. "he's already had to grow up without a real mother. your chest ached.

"so it's always been just me and him," jay continued. "and now... there's you." you looked at him, your voice gentle. "do you want me to be there?" his eyes met yours, something raw in them, "yeah," he said. "i do." your breath hitched.

"but this won't be easy," he said. "not with the age gap. not with your dad. not with the way i feel when some kid like minho calls you and makes you laugh like that." you stepped closer. "i'll deal with my dad, and you know minho is my friend." jay scoffs at the last bit. "and seojun?" you paused, a smile appearing on your face when jay mentions the little twerp, "he loves me."

jay softened, "he does." you looked up at him. "so maybe this can work. maybe we just take it one day at a time." he studied you, then nodded slowly. "one day at a time."

and just like that, you felt the air between you shift—something fragile and uncertain, but also real. jay reaches for your hand, the warmth of his fingers interlocking with your own. you sigh in content. "no more secrets," he said.

you nodded. "no more eavesdropping." he smirked. "we'll see."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

"are you and appa married now?"

the question drops like a bomb in the middle of the warm living room. you freeze where you're kneeling, halfway through tying seojun's tiny sneaker. your eyes snap up to meet his, wide and innocent—but there's something suspiciously knowing behind them. he had a small grin on his face, looking at you mischievously. 

smart ass.

"what?" you blink, confused and shocked. "what makes you say that?"

"because appa never lets anyone touch his hair, not even me!" seojun says seriously, eyes narrowed like he's putting the clues together in his tiny head. "but you touched it yesterday and he didn't even yell. and you didn't yell at him either. you said 'thank you' when he brought you water."

"i always say thank you," you mumble, suddenly very interested in the velcro strap you're adjusting. you begin wondering if they make velcro sneakers for adults. "no you don't," he says bluntly. "you fight all the time. but now you smile. and he smiles too. and he puts his hand here when you walk." he pats the small of his back, mimicking jay's subtle touches. "so... are you his wife now?"

you sigh, resting your forehead lightly against his, "no, junnie. i'm not his wife."

"but do you love him?" your heart lurches. you swallow at his bluntness, "you ask a lot of questions for a 5 year old." he shrugs like an old man. "i'm smart. i know things."

you pull back, smiling softly at him, "yeah, you really do." just then, jay walks into the room, ruffling seojun's hair. "ready to go, bud?"

"appa," seojun turns to him seriously. "if she's not your wife yet, you better hurry. i want her to stay. she makes good pancakes." you look at the boy offended, gasping at his words, "so you only want me here for pancakes?" seojun grins in response, squealing when you attack him with tickles on his tummy.

jay glances at you—eyes dark, flickering with something unspoken and then he chuckles, low and affectionate. "working on it, buddy," he murmurs.

you roll your eyes, cheeks burning at his words "liar." jay smirks when he sees your face turn red, "brat."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

jay gave you a quick pep talk before you left his home to finally see your father.

you chew at your lip nervously as you stand in front of your father's study door, your fingers twitching by your sides. he had texted earlier asking where you'd been the night before, and you lied—again. but you're not sure if he believed you this time. not when he knows how close you've gotten with jay. not when he's always been a little too observant for your liking. you take a deep breath, knock once, and step inside.

he looks up from his laptop, brow furrowed. "so. you're alive." you wince. "hi, dad."

he leans back in his chair, arms folding. "i'm guessing you didn't spend the night at minho's like you said." you hesitate. "no."

"then where?" you glance down, then back up. "jay's."

he doesn't respond at first. the silence thickens. "and?" he finally asks, voice tight. "is there something you want to tell me?" you swallow hard, fingers locking together. "we've... gotten close." his eyes narrow slightly at the term, repeating it with distaste, "close." 

"i care about him," you admit. "and seojun. it's not just... it's not a fling, dad. i know he's older, and i know he's your business partner, but—"

"23 and 35, sweetheart." his voice is low, clipped. "he has a child. responsibilities. baggage. you really think you're ready for all that?"

"i've already been dealing with it," you fire back, trying to stay calm. "i've been helping take care of seojun for months. i love that kid. and jay... he's—he's good to me. in his own grumpy way." your father scoffs. "grumpy is one word for it." you cross your arms. "you don't get to judge him. you've worked with him for years. you know he's not some asshole." he sighs, rubbing his temples. "i know. i know he's not. he's a good man. he's just... not who i pictured for you."

"me neither," you say quietly. he looks up at you again—less angry now, more tired. "does he make you happy?" you nod. "yeah. even when we fight. especially when we fight." he huffs out a reluctant laugh, knowing that jay at the very least was able to deal with his daughter's attitude,  "sounds like you two deserve each other."

"but that doesn't mean that i'm fully okay with this. i need to chat with mr.park as well, about this." you nod at his word, a small laugh escaping you as you watch your father struggle to contain his protectiveness.

a beat of silence passes. "just... be careful," he says finally. "this changes a lot of things."

"i know," you say softly. "but i think it's worth it." he nods once, slowly. "alright." and just like that, a line has been crossed. awkward tension still lingers in the air, but there's something softer now. something almost like acceptance.

you step forward to hug him, and after a beat, his arms wrap around you too. "just don't let him break your heart," he mutters.

you smile. "i'll break his first."

he groans. "god, you're still your mother's child."

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

it's been a few weeks since everything changed—since your father reluctantly accepted the relationship, since seojun's wide eyes and perceptive little voice called both you and jay out, and since you finally stopped pretending what was happening between you and jay was just physical. things had shifted. not abruptly, but with slow ease.

the mornings in jay's house were no longer just routine—they had rhythm. you're in the kitchen, barefoot and sleepy, stirring the oatmeal you promised seojun the night before. the little boy's perched on the counter next to you, legs swinging as he munches on an apple slice with a bag of gummy bears wound tightly in his palms—humming some made-up song under his breath.

"you gonna tell your dad i let you have gummy bears before breakfast?" you tease, bumping his knee with your hip. seojun giggles. "hmm... depends. will you make pancakes this weekend?"

"blackmail? wow, you really are his son."

"damn right," jay's voice cuts in from behind, gravelly and amused, his hair still damp from the shower. he's buttoning up his shirt slowly, eyes scanning the scene in front of him like it's his favorite sight in the world. his son and you in his kitchen, soft morning light catching the curve of your cheek, your voice warm and teasing. he lives for this now. these little domestic moments of peace. "don't tell me you're bribing my kid," he mutters, brushing a kiss against your temple as he grabs his coffee.

you roll your eyes, "he's blackmailing me and bribing implies i'm getting something out of it." jay smirks, "you get to wake up in my bed. that's gotta count for something." you shoot him a look, but your cheeks warm anyway. he never misses a chance to fluster you, and he knows exactly how to do it—especially when seojun's around and your only defense is a quiet huff and a shake of your head.

breakfast is chaotic in the way that all good families are. seojun accidentally knocks over his juice, you forget the toast in the oven, jay's tie somehow ends up in the butter dish, and yet... it all works. it's loud and messy and full of laughter.

later, after jay drops seojun off at school, it's just the two of you again. you're curled up on the couch with your laptop, trying to work as the summer was over and you no long had the pleasure of rotting around. you can feel his eyes on you from across the room. he's supposed to be reviewing contracts, but instead, he's watching you—his bratty, stubborn girl who somehow wormed her way into the quiet places of his life and made them glow.

"what?" you ask, not looking up. he shrugs. "nothing. just thinking." you lift a brow, "dangerous."

"about how you were made for this," he adds quietly. "for me. for him. for all of this. even though the beginning of our relationship revolved around constant bickering.” you scoff, half touched, half embarrassed. "so dramatic." but he doesn't deny it. just leans back, arms crossed, eyes soft. "tell me i'm wrong."

you don't. not because you can't, but because for once—you don't want to.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[seasidefallenangel]

i give an unending dream to you

men who can't fathom a future without you - so they refuse to let it happen ft. sae itoshi, sunday, malleus draconia

this is from @saetiate's post that she was kind enough to let me write a piece based off of

notes: yandere vibes (i'm back to my roots), fem reader, mildly unhealthy relationships, heavy possessiveness on the boys end, title is from this please listen to it and i'll give you ten thousand kisses

༄ sae:

“it’s like i’m fucking talking to a brick wall. the same shit keeps happening and it feels like you’re not trying at all,” you spit out with vitriol, slamming the cabinet shut in the kitchen as the wood splinters beneath your force.

if sae is even hearing you, he shows no signs of it. the entire time you’ve been screaming at him, throwing things, making accusations - he’s just been sitting atop one of the chairs at the island. his demeanor seems rather bored, if anything. you almost wish he’d fight back just so you know your words are reaching him in some way.

it’s only once tears of frustration begin to well in your eyes that he finally sighs and has the gall to ask, “are you finished?”

the sheer audacity of the question causes your tears to fall with anger, spiking your temper once more. you’re half a second away from cursing him out again but you know it’ll get you nowhere. instead, you clench your fists and huff before grabbing your car keys and silently making your way to the front door.

sometimes you forget just how fast sae is, because it’s as if he teleports in front of the door. he stares down at you with what seems to be indifference, but you know him well enough to sense the quiet fury behind his eyes - waiting to break free from its confines.

“you’re not going anywhere,” he tells you with no room to argue, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “not until your little temper tantrum is sorted.”

even though you try to tug away from him, it’s clear he’s not letting this go. sae is both the unstoppable force and the immovable object in everything he does. 

he brushes his lips against your ear for a brief moment before kissing beneath it. his voice is nearly a whisper when he speaks, “if you’re done being a brat, i’d like to at least get a word in before you leave and do something stupid.”

you narrow your eyes at him and scoff. well, at least he’s finally acknowledging you. “and if i hear you out, then can i leave?” his lips twitch in amusement. 

“not a chance.“

༄ sunday:

the parlor car is eerily silent, the rest of the express having sensed the incoming argument and opted to retreat to their rooms. sunday’s wings are twitching anxiously as he hovers close enough for you to be in his reach but not enough that you’ll freak out on him again. 

“my dove,” he says in that soothing voice of his, “don’t you feel you’re overreacting just a bit?” 

you want to crush his windpipe for even suggesting it, but something seeps into your brain as his words wrap around the depths of your psyche. it tells you to relax, let yourself be held in your lover's embrace once more. it’s peaceful, calming, alluring in its desire for you to submit yourself into what you know so well.

it’s not your voice at all.

“i should’ve known a control freak like you would try some shit like this,” you manage to get out through gritted teeth. forgive him, he loves you so dearly, echoes in your mind. the words nearly spill from your lips if not for you putting all your willpower into keeping your lips shut.

his expression goes from concern to disapproval in an instant. the sudden invasion of your personal space as he makes his way over isn’t lost on you. it’s his pattern - guilt, control, smother. 

“it seems i’ve underestimated you, my little rebel,” he muses, bringing your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “denying the harmony’s influence so easily -  it seems you’ve gotten strong without mentioning it to me.”

the implication of his words is clear ; if you can escape his honeyed words, what else will you do to slip from his grasp?

“no matter. you could do with some more training, wouldn’t you agree?”

༄ malleus:

the library is dead silent as you flip through one of the beginners magic textbooks crewel had given you. not that it’s odd for a library to be quiet, but the reason it’s more empty than usual is a rather odd occurrence. “can you linger a bit less menacingly?” you murmur in an irritated tone. 

malleus simply blinks owlishly at your request from the other side of the table. you’re used to him following you around out of sheer interest for your ‘human tendencies’ (his words, not yours), but you underestimated how annoying it would be when you’re in the middle of a disagreement. 

after a few more moments you slam the book shut with a huff, fully aware you’re not going to get any meaningful studying done with him staring you down in your peripherals. when you stand from the seat he echoes your movements. the students part and scamper away from his path as he follows behind like your shadow.

there’s honestly a good chance you’d be less angry with him if he just gave you some space like you desired, but he’d rather have his horns ripped from his skull than leave you alone for more than thirty seconds.

“have you found it within your heart to forgive me yet, beloved?” he asks calmly, as if it’s somehow your fault that you’re even upset to begin with. 

your head whips around in a flash, rage contorting the usually delicate features of your face. he’s either a bonafide manipulator or completely dense, and both of the options seem to piss you off equally at the moment.

“give me a fucking break, malleus!” you yell, not missing the way his eye twitches from your lack of using his nickname. “i put up with a lot of your shit, but i’m seriously sick of you treating my friends like they’re criminals-”

“spade does have a charge on his record, my love,” he counters smoothly, which does nothing to satiate your anger. you pull back when he tries to reach for you, but the swirling clouds beginning to form in the sky make you think twice.

“i care a great deal about your safety and wellbeing. it’d do no good for my future betrothed to be involved in something that endangers your reputation or, sevens forbid, your health.”

out of sheer pettiness, you mutter under your breath, “keep acting like this and there won’t be a betrothed for you to marry.”

his self control snaps like a twig as lightning strikes the bench nearby, making you scream and instinctively leap towards him for protection. his arms quickly wrap around you like a python, trapping you against his body.

“there will be a wedding, and you will soon see the error in your ways. i simply pray you one day come to understand that everything i do is out of my endless love for you,” he coos, but it feels more like a death sentence. whatever his ‘love’ entails, you’re not sure if it’s something you want to stick around for.

not that he’d ever give you a choice.

[saltcxrcle]

drunken words ↼ d. winchester

summary: drunk you isn't the best at keeping their mouth shut

pairings: dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x gn! reader, platonic sam winchester x reader

requested: yes/no: by @traiitorjoe; thank you for sending your request!

word count: 3.0K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', none really, some cursing, a little bit of fluff, sam being a meddling little shit, some angst, kinda edited

a/n: i got this request in july and i felt so bad for having put it off for so long but here we have it! there is a potential for a pt.2 so if anyone wants that lmk lol

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Dealing with the Winchesters always felt like a Herculean task when you would run into them while you were on a hunt. The first time you ran into them was when they barged into the farmhouse that you were staking out for a nest of vampires. They went in, guns blazing, and you cursed them out under your breath as you hurriedly left the hiding spot you were in and rushed into the nest to help them clean out. 

It was safe to say that they were surprised and confused by your anger when you guys had killed all of the vamps. You didn’t recognize them at first when they first ran into the farmhouse, but now that you were standing there and really looking at them, you instantly knew that these were the infamous Winchester brothers you’d heard from Bobby and other hunters.  

Regardless of who they were, you were furious that they had messed up the hunt that you were on, and they were on the receiving end of your fury while they looked at you dumbfounded. After you were done yelling at them, you left the farmhouse fuming and decided to leave them with the cleanup job. 

The brothers were so confused by you that they didn’t even think to ask for your name. They also were slightly scared by your fury, and they failed to realize that you clearly knew who they were, but they had no idea who you were, only that they had taken over your hunt and were really mad about it. Dean only hoped that he wouldn’t run into you ever again. 

But as fate was a fickle thing, you would run into the brothers on your next hunt in a small town in Oregon, where a witch was terrorizing the men of the town, and it just so happened that you had arrived at the station the same time they did. You had to play along with them until you got the information you needed, and then when you tried to leave the station before them, a hand slammed your door before you could get into your car. 

You turned around to be met with emerald green eyes filled with irritation and thinly veiled curiosity. 

“Did you need something Winchester?” You said with a scowl etched into your face. 

Dean scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, answers. Who the hell are you?” 

“What’s it matter to you?” 

“Because you’re a hunter and we could use some help on this case.” Sam interjected, and your eyes were ripped away from the man in front of you. You almost forgot about the taller Winchester that was lingering behind Dean. 

You raised an eyebrow at Sam while Dean’s head jerked over his shoulder and glared at his brother. Sam stared back at his brother with raised brows, sending him a look that said, ‘What? It doesn’t hurt to ask.’ 

“I don’t think your brother here is keen on working with me.” 

“You’re damn right I’m not. You went off on us for no reason and left us to clean up.” 

You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of them cleaning up the plethora of severed heads and bodies from that farmhouse. But you ignored Dean's words as you contemplated the offer Sam was proposing. 

“Fine I’ll help, but you’ll have to follow my lead on this one.” 

Sam nodded, agreeing with you, and sent you a dimpled smile. 

Dean opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by you slicing the air with your hand in front of his face. 

“Zip it Winchester, either you listen to me or I leave you high and dry on this hunt.” You waved around the copy of the case file that you convinced the Sheriff to give you before leaving the station. 

Dean all but glared at you and stomped towards the black Chevy Impala that was parked down the street. You couldn’t help but smirk at Dean’s grumpy attitude, and Sam told you which motel they were staying in and followed them to it. 

With three heads instead of one (more like two since Dean barely did any research and stuck you and Sam with it), you guys found the witch in no time and disposed of her swiftly. You had to admit that working with the brothers was more manageable than working on your own. But you knew that this had to be a one-off occurrence because you had heard about all of the craziness that surrounded the Winchesters. You were not keen on being pulled into any of it. 

Once the hunt was over, Sam gave you his number and told you to call if you needed help or vice versa. You took it to be polite, but you knew that you weren’t going to call them unless your life depended on it. The three of you went your separate ways before Destiny decided to play her games, and somehow, you ended up working on most of the hunts the brothers were working on. 

It’s like some higher power wanted you to work the Winchesters against your better wishes. Alas, you ended up working with them every time because you couldn’t resist Sam Winchester’s pleading puppy dog eyes. But you got on quite well with Sam, and he slowly became a good friend of yours. 

But your relationship with Dean, on the other hand… Well, let’s just say you had a mutual hatred for each other. You guys practically fought like cats and dogs anytime you interacted, and the two of you couldn’t help but let snide comments leave your lips each time the other was wrong or messed up. Both of you bickered like an old married couple that should have divorced a long time ago, so much so that Sam had to be the mediator constantly if you were to work with the brothers. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure if you were either going to throw a punch or fuck each other. 

Dean Winchester is an incredibly infuriating man, and you hated that you found him attractive. It wasn’t lost on you that both of the brothers were hot, like they should be on the cover of a magazine hot, but there was something about Dean that drew you to him more. You didn’t want him to know that, so you hid your attraction for him through your sarcastic demeanor. Eventually, Sam had enough of your bickering that held so much sexual tension that he locked the two of you in the motel room he and Dean were sharing until the two of you could have a civil conversation. 

Sam had left the two of you for a couple of hours. He was half expecting to find the two of you naked in Dean’s bed, but when he unlocked the door, he saw the two of you on separate beds and watching a random movie that was playing on the TV in the room.

In the time that Sam was gone, you guys had bickered and gotten in each other’s faces, but you eventually admitted that it was tiring to keep up the fact that you didn’t exactly hate Dean since the moment you met him and to your surprise, he admitted the same thing. After that, you guys sat on separate beds, finding some common ground between the two of you, and watched whatever was on the TV. 

After that incident, the two of you still argued like a married couple, but there wasn’t any heat behind your words, and it turned into friendly banter between you and the older Winchester. Months went by, and you found yourself as the unofficial third partner to the brothers, accompanying them on the majority of the hunts that they picked up.  

You didn’t know how it happened, but to your utter shock and horror, along the way of becoming friends with Dean Winchester, you developed feelings for him. Of course, you had no idea when you started to feel like this around Dean. Sam was perceptive, caught onto your change in behavior, and had basically interrogated you when he saw you glare at the woman Dean decided to take home that night, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in your chest as he left the bar the three of you were at. 

You had vehemently denied that you felt anything for Dean, but all Sam said in response was a shit-eating grin and gave you a look that said, ‘Yeah, you’re lying, and I know it.’ 

Once Sam had figured out that you liked his brother, he stopped at nothing to leave the two of you alone in hopes that you’d put on your big kid pants and admit your feelings towards him (spoiler alert, you never did). As much as you loved Sam, you honestly wanted to punch him in the face every time he urged you to tell Dean about your feelings. 

You knew that Dean wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you definitely knew that he wasn’t one for love or relationships, as evident with the women he picked up at bars after successful hunts. Did your heart clench any time you saw the satisfied smirk on his face the morning after the night out at the bar? You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but yourself, but yeah, it did. 

Now, after a successful hunt, you and the Winchesters found yourselves at the bar across the street from the motel you were staying in. The three of you were at a booth at the corner of the bar, and you had gotten the first round of drinks for each of you. But when Dean volunteered to grab the third round (Sam had gotten the second one), Sam said he was turning in for the night and shot you a sly smile, and you knew exactly what he meant by it. You glared at him briefly before telling him goodnight through gritted teeth (Dean had seen this interaction between you and his brother and was confused by it but brushed it off).

Sam left, and Dean turned to you. “Still want a drink?” He asked. 

You nodded in response, and Dean shot you a small smile before his knuckles knocked on the table, and he made his way toward the bar. A couple of minutes had passed, and Dean wasn’t back from the bar. You looked up from your empty glass to see him being chatted up by a woman dressed to the nines, and clearly, Dean was into her. 

You let out a harsh breath before shaking your head, getting up from the booth, heading to the opposite side of the bar Dean was at, and ordering a vodka soda. You downed in quickly and told the bartender to keep the drinks coming. You didn’t know how many you had until you heard a gruff voice telling the bartender to give you water instead of another drink. You could vaguely recognize Dean’s voice through your drunken haze. 

You turned around in your seat to see Dean right next to you with furrowed brows. “You alright there, kid?” 

Dean hadn’t seen you this drunk before, so he was half concerned but also half amused by the cute pout you had on your face. 

“M’not a kid.” You slurred out, irritated. You hated the nickname that Dean had given you; you weren’t much younger than Dean, you were the same age as Sam. 

“Then why are you pouting like you didn’t get the candy you asked for?” Dean asked, his tone amused. 

You couldn’t help but scowl at him and look around for the woman he was talking to earlier. “Where’s the girl-*hiccup* you were talking to?” You questioned, dazed. 

Dean’s face had scrunched up. “Turns out she plays for the same team.” He muttered lowly, but you managed to hear it through the bar chatter. 

You couldn’t help but burst out in drunken giggles at Dean’s failed attempt to take someone home. Dean looked at you, slightly embarrassed, but couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your laughter. 

“Okay, we should probably get you back to your room.” Dean coaxed you off of the bar stool you were sitting on before paying for the tabs and leading you out of the bar. Dean had tucked you into his side as you walked on wobbly legs across the street to the motel. 

Once you reached your room (which was coincidentally right next to the boys’ room). Dean asked where you had your key. You were leaning into Dean, so his question was spoken into your ear quietly, and it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“M’back pocket.” You mumbled out. 

You didn’t see this as your eyes were closed as you rested your head against his shoulder, but his eyes widened at the realization that he’d have to grab it from your jeans pocket. 

“If you remember this in the morning, please don’t punch me, I swear I wasn’t trying to cop a feel.” He had muttered something else under his breath, but you were too out of it to notice what he said. 

Dean managed to get your room key out of your pocket and unlocked your door. He led the two of you inside, and when you saw your bed, you quickly ripped yourself from Dean’s embrace and fell face-first into bed, uncaring if you were still in jeans. 

Dean chuckled at you, and you looked up at him with a pout. “Are you laughing at me?”  

He shook his head, trying to stifle his amusement. “No, of course not.” 

You squinted suspiciously at him before sitting up and pawing at your combat boots. You were fumbling with the laces until you felt a warm hand cover yours. You looked up and found Dean kneeling on the floor in front of you. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he untied your boots for you and pulled them off of your feet. 

“You’re pretty.” You couldn’t help but blurt out drunkenly. 

Dean laughed, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. “Maybe I should get you drunk often, maybe you’ll compliment me more.” He sent you one of his smug smirks before standing up and heading toward the small kitchenette in your room.

He filled a glass with water before heading to the bathroom. He grabbed some aspirin that was stored in the medicine cabinet (you had no idea that he knew where you stored your painkillers). He came over to the bed with the water and painkillers and set them on the nightstand.

As he was bustling around your room, you had managed to wiggle off your jeans and get underneath the covers of the bed.  You looked at Dean underneath the warm lighting of the lamp that illuminated the room. His freckles were prominent in this lighting, and you couldn’t help but stare at his side profile. 

Dean noticed your intense gaze on him and smirked down at you after setting the water and aspirin on your nightstand. “See something you like?” He gently teased. Dean felt his hand twitch, trying to resist the temptation to brush back the stray hairs on your forehead. 

“Mhm, I like your face.” You smiled in a drunken bliss before your eyes fluttered. “I like you a lot actually.” You said before you felt the pull of sleep tug at your eyes. 

Your eyes shut, and your breathing evened out as you succumbed to sleep, leaving Dean standing in shock next to you. He looked down at your sleeping form before shaking his head. He’d deny the fact he felt his heartbeat quicken at your drunken admission. Dean quickly left your room and entered his shared room with Sam. 

Lucky for him, Sam was sound asleep in his bed, and Dean quickly got ready for bed, trying to ignore the fact you may or may not have shared the same feelings as he did. 

You woke up with a groan. Your head was pounding. You saw through your bleary eyes that there were some painkillers left out with a glass of water right next to them on your nightstand. You sat up as quickly as you could and grabbed the things off the nightstand. You downed some of the water before taking the aspirin and then drinking the rest of the water. 

You put the glass back on the nightstand before crawling back under the covers, wanting to let the ache in your head subside slightly before getting ready for the day. But fate was not on your side because pounding came from your door, making pain shoot through your head, and Dean waltzed into your room with a bag of food and a wide smirk on his face. 

“Rise and shine, kid!” He said enthusiastically. 

You shot up from your spot on the bed and glared at him. “I hate you. And stop calling me kid.” 

“Well, that’s not what you said last night.” Dean smirked knowingly. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach; what the hell did you say last night? “What do you mean?” 

Dean placed the food on the table before leaning on its edge. “Do you not remember what you said last night?” 

You shook your head. “Nope. Last thing I remember was you leading me out of the bar.” 

Dean's smirk faltered. He wasn’t expecting that. “You don’t remember anything at all after that?” 

“No. Why did I say anything important?” 

Dean cleared his throat, trying to seem nonchalant and hide what he was actually feeling. He shook his head. 

“Uh, no. But I got you some grub, we’re gonna head out in 30 so be ready then.” He said stiffly before leaving the room. Not looking at you once before the door closed with a click. 

You stared at the door, confused. That was probably the most awkward Dean had ever been around you. But you shook it off and decided to pack up and eat the breakfast Dean got you. 

You’d figure out what you said to Dean later. 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Nickname Runs in the Family || CL16

Summary: When you end up crying on your father’s shoulder over a boy, Kimi enlists the help of Charles to teach him a lesson. Charles Leclerc x Raikkonen!Reader Warnings: nsfw, fighting, mentions of sex, WC: 2.9k

To the outside world Kimi was known as ‘The Iceman’, garnered for his cold personality in the media and how he never let anything bother him, at home however he was just called isä or dad. You really could have done with more of The Iceman persona because when it came to his family your father was anything but cool and collected.

“Tell me what happened,” Kimi demanded, your tears only streaming faster down your cheeks.

“Nothing happened, dad.”

“Something happened, tytär, don’t lie to me.”

It was stupid to go there after what happened. You should have just returned to your student accommodation at the college but you needed the comfort of home and someone you trusted. Now all of Monaco was going to hear just how hotheaded The Iceman got while your step-mother tried to put your baby half-sister back to sleep.

“Nothing happened!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment flamed across your cheeks. “I said no, okay. I said no and he called me a frigid bitch before dumping me and leaving me at the party.”

You expected to hear something break, or at least his heavy stomps storming towards the front door. You didn’t expect your dad to throw his head back and laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed around the quiet living room. 

“Ah, that’s my girl,” he laughed as he bundled you into a hug. “I like that, Frigid Bitch. It’s good.”

You snorted a laugh despite the hurt and wiped your tears on his shoulder. “I thought you would be angry.”

“Oh, I am,” he admitted somberly. He placed a kiss on your head before standing up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. You didn’t see who he was calling so late at night but groaned when it was answered. “Hello, Charles. You know everyone in Monaco, where does Devereux Laurent live?”

“Isä! No!”

Your father ignored you as he grabbed his car keys and his jacket, his phone shoved between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m not going to kill the little bastard, fuck, Charles, I just want to have a chat.”

The door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed back onto the sofa with a groan about keeping your mouth shut next time. You were still ruminating over your life choices when the doorbell rang an hour later. 

“Charles?” You frowned at the man panting in your doorway like he sprinted across the city before your eyes widened at the split lip he sported. “What are you doing here? What happened?”

“Kimi.”

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah.”

You grabbed your purse that had been discarded on the kitchen table when you arrived. “Where is he?” 

“The police station.”

“Shit, he didn’t do that to you, did he?”

Charles reeled back, clearly offended. “No, you’re asshole boyfriend hit me.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you clarified as you dragged him inside and grabbed a tea towel to wrap a bag of peas from the freezer. Charles flinched as you gently pressed the ice pack to his lips and you sighed. “I’m sorry my dad got you involved in this.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the pack from your hand to place it on his swollen knuckles that you hadn’t noticed. “I got myself involved when I heard what Dev did. Are you okay?”

“I didn’t get punched in the face,” you said as you playfully rolled your eyes, however you soon sobered. “It's nothing a few drinks and a bad romcom can’t fix, after I’ve bailed dad out first. It’s not like we were together long enough to get heartbroken. Do you want me to drop you off on the way?”

“I’ll drive.” He snatched a set of keys from the hook by the door, but you caught his wrist and took them back.

“That’s Minttu’s minivan.” You hung the keys back on the hook and grabbed a set for your dad’s Rolls Royce Wraith instead. The empty hook beside it was where the keys to his Ferrari Pista usually hung. “She wouldn’t be happy if you crashed her car again.”

“I didn’t crash her car,” he argued as he pocketed the keys and opened the door. “You were driving!”

“I had a shit instructor. You were too busy checking yourself out in the mirror to teach me.”

His finger jabbed the call button for the elevator as he scoffed. “You only know that because you were too busy checking me out to watch the road.”

The elevator arrived but you held a hand out to block him as you stepped into the small space. “Sorry, your inflated ego is too big to fit in here.” 

“That wasn’t a denial.”

You ignored him and jutted your head to the fireproof door. “Try the stairs.”

“But we’re on the top floor.”

You smirked as the doors started to close but he darted inside before they sealed shut.

“You’re still not denying it.”

“So you really went swinging for my honour?” you deflected as he hit the button for the garage level, exposing his swollen fist again.

“You sound surprised.” He leaned back against the wall and looked at his hand, massaging the tender bruises. “When I saw he was still at the party…”

You frowned, first at the fact that Dev went back after leaving you there, asshole, then at the fact Charles knew where he was. Charles was definitely not at the party, if he was then you would have heard the women going feral for him. “How did you know he was there? You don’t follow him on Instagram.”

“Not on my main account,” he said with a shrug. Anyone that Charles followed on social media made sure to announce the news like it was an instant ticket to ViP treatment, and Dev would have been no different. It was also the exact reason you went by Y/L/N, your mother’s surname, instead of Raikkonen. You didn’t want to be used by people for the name you carried. 

“You hate him, why would you follow him?”

“It doesn’t matter why.”

“It does to me.” 

Unfortunately the doors opened and he pushed off from the wall to stride past without an answer. A flash of lights responded to the click of the button on the keys and Charles slowed his steps for you as he led the way to the sedan parked in a secluded corner, the space beside it empty of your fathers red Pista. Charles stopped at your door and opened it for you, his eyes scanning the open space that was empty and quiet save for the whine of the elevator leaving the level. 

“For you,” he admitted as you slipped into the leather seat. “I followed him to keep an eye on you.”

The door closed and you watched him walk around the car, dropping into the driver’s seat before pushing it back to suit his longer legs. He then silently adjusted the mirrors and turned down the heavy rock music that blasted when the engine started. You didn’t know what to say, all you had were more questions that could only lead to more confusion.

“You deserve better,” Charles said, breaking the awkward silence as he pulled out into the street. 

“He was just drunk.” 

“That’s not an excuse. You deserve someone who will wait until you are ready to have sex, not try it on drunk and at a party.” His words were seething by the time he finished and his knuckles turned white from the tight grasp he had on the steering wheel.

“Uh, Charles, I was joking about my honour…I’m not a virgin.”

“Wait, what?” The car slammed to a halt and he earned a toot from the Lamborghini behind before it drove around when Charles didn’t move. “Since when?” he asked as he turned in his seat to face you.

“I didn’t realise it was such a big deal. Was I meant to stand at the corner and hold a sign that said ‘deflowered’ in Times New Roman or Comic Sans?”

He didn’t even blink at your icy tone and heavy sarcasm. “But Dev said he dumped you because you didn’t want to have sex. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”

“Oh my god, no! I can’t believe we are having this conversation, Charles.” You figured it couldn't get any more awkward as you looked out the window into the sleeping city. “Sex wasn’t the problem, he was upset because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

“Oh…oh.” He cleared his throat and put the car back into drive before continuing his way to the police station. “So, uh, is there anyone you do want to, um, have sex with at the moment?” 

“Why? Are you offering?” It was meant to sound teasing but there was too much curiosity in it.

His face flushed pink and his lips parted two twice before his voice worked. “I don’t do casual.”

It wasn’t a no, and that somehow made things both better and worse as a new possibility began to worm its way into your mind. You didn’t like the hope that fluttered in your stomach. Charles was a friend. Charles was someone your father trusted after Seb vouched for him. Charles was off limits. 

By the time you had filtered through the thoughts he had induced, Charles was pulling into the police station and you hoped your dad was fairing well behind bars. It turned out you had no reason to worry as you walked inside and heard his voice from behind the glass wall. 

Kimi was being well taken care of by the officers. He had a coffee in one hand, a pastry in the other and was answering questions that had nothing to do with Dev. You cringed as he recounted why he missed meeting Pelé years ago, but Charles chuckled along with the policemen as you knocked on the door.

The Monégasques fawned over their hometown hero while you watched Kimi pull himself to his feet, cracking his back that had stiffen while he was sat down. 

“I thought you would be in maximum security by now,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. “What did you do?”

He patted your cheek and smiled mischievously. “I like Charles even more now.”

He gave you nothing else but that was expected. Whatever happened was obviously not on the record and you wanted to keep it that way, especially since he didn’t have a single scratch on him - like he hadn’t been in a fight at all. You were quietly contemplating that knowledge when you climbed into the backseat of the Wraith and your father readjusted everything on the driver's side back to how he had it.

“You took the fall for Charles, didn’t you?”

They both swivelled back to look at you. Charles’ eyes widened, while your father’s narrowed. 

“Fucking hell, I’m not going to tell anyone,” you growled as you threw your arms up in exasperation. “I just want to know what actually happened tonight.”

Charles waited to see if your dad wasn’t going to explain as the car pulled out of the station car park. After a moment of hesitation he took a breath and started to rattle off the truth.

“I called Kimi when I realised Dev was still at the party. It was only a block away so I thought I would meet him there to point him out.”

“I was just about at the address he gave me when he called. I got there as fast as I could but Charles was already inside,” Kimi said with a proud chortle. “Got a few good hits on the little bastard too.”

“Iså,” you warned as he enjoyed the violence just a bit too much and Charles looked sheepishly down at his hands. “Why did you fight?”

“You know why. I couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you that way.”

“Good man,” Kimi said with a stern nod. 

“And you, what did you do, dad?”

“What I had to do,” he said with a shrug. “I’m retired, Charles has a career.”

You stretched the seatbelt and leaned forward to hug your dad and kiss his cheek before doing the same to Charles. “Thank you.” Your eyes lingered on Charles as his eyes said everything he couldn’t with your father in the car. 

“He’s not pressing charges but there may be some questions if anyone caught the fight on camera. You might want to give your PR team a heads up.”

It took a moment to realise where you were and why the car had stopped outside the venue where the party was still in full swing. Drunken revellers could be heard behind the velvet curtain hanging over the door and your father handed his keys over to Charles with a shake. “Make sure she gets home safe. I’ll pick it up in the morning, no scratches.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles promised with a nod before getting out.

“You’re trusting him with your Pista?”

“I trust him with you, the car I can replace.”

You surprised him with another hug as your door opened, your voice thick with emotion as you said, “thank you.”

“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly. “I can make up the sofa bed.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll want to get out of my bed tomorrow.”

“Fair enough. Love you.”

“Love you too.” You stepped out and Charles closed the door, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to your father’s favourite car. “He doesn’t even let me drive this, you know.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t support Ferrari,” Charles teased as you buckled yourself in.

“I support it now.”

“What changed your mind?”

You dared to look at him and met his green eyes. “You.”

—

“Awww, she called her little puppy,” Dev taunted as he spotted Charles walking towards him.

Charles chuckled, but it held no humour and his smile was dark. You had never seen that look in his eye and your thighs clenched in response. “At least she will still call me. You just lost the best thing you never deserved.”

“Well you can have the frigid bitch, good luck getting her to put out though. Fucking cocktease.” The snort Dev made was cut off by the fist that crashed into his nose and then the both of them were going to the floor, grappling and twisting until Kimi darted into the fray and grabbed Charles.

“Go, she’s at home,” Kimi ordered as he pushed Charles back the way he came. “I’ve got it from here, kid.”

The video looped back to the start and you watched it twice more before determining you were fucked. It hit you like a train, the pressure slamming into your chest as you realised you were in love with Charles. No one had ever stood up for you like that, or taken a punch for you or risked their career. But he had.

You stayed cocooned in your blankets for most of the morning, watching the video footage from the night before and it became your new favourite binge worthy entertainment. It would probably be classed as insanity if anyone knew you had become addicted to it, but it was only the fact someone knocked at your door that you placed your phone down.

“Charles? I’m getting a little déjà-vu here,” you commented as you opened the door and found him sweating.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he blurted out. “Please.”

Your brows shot up at the outburst and you checked the student halls were empty before pulling him into your room. “Uh, you do realise who my father is, right?”

“I do, thank you for your concern,” he chuckled. “I was actually just with him. I wanted his permission to ask you on a date.”

“Well that explains why it looks like you’ve been running for your life.” You looked at your door expecting to see it kicked in. “Was he chasing you?”

“What? No, I wasn’t running. Fuck,” he groaned as he ran his hands over his jeans to dry his clammy palms. “I was just nervous about asking you out. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I will.”

“Answer the question or go out with me?”

“I will go out with you,” you clarified with a laugh.

Relieved, he took a seat at the edge of your bed and sighed happily. “I have been waiting years to ask.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded before flopping himself down comfortably and you dropped down beside him. “Your dad scared me,” he admitted as he took your hand in his.

“But not anymore.”

Charles smiled and it was one so similar to the video that was still playing on loop. He seemed to recognise the muffled sound coming from the blanket at the same time you remembered it was there and fished it out. “You’ve seen it.”

“Once or twice,” you lied. “I see why you’re not afraid anymore. That’s one hell of a right hook.”

“Oh no I am definitely still afraid of Kimi,” he corrected as he rolled on his side to face you. “But I am done watching you date assholes when I know exactly how you deserve to be treated. I want to give you the world, if you’ll let me.”

[sturniqlo]

WAIT FOR YOU- CHRIS STURN

summary: Chris leads Y/n on and things don't end well between them. What happens when they cross paths again but she's not ready anymore?

cw: angst, cursing

an: this is a favorite of mine, hope you enjoy:)

masterlist

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"Hey Chris!" Y/n says as Chris opens the front door to let her in. "Hey, Y/n." He gives her a side hug as she enters the house, closing the door during the hug. "Know what you wanna do today?" Chris asks as he leads her up the stairs to enter the kitchen. "Mm, thought we could go shopping? Maybe eat lunch while we're at it?" She leans against the island.

"Sounds good, let me go get changed really quickly." He says as he runs off to his room. Y/n stays in the kitchen, pulling up a chair and scrolls on her phone. If Matt or Nick were here, she would be hanging out with them while she waited for Chris. After less than ten minutes Chris enters the kitchen once again. "Ready?" She turns on the phone and get up. "Let's go."

"Hey! I told you if you wanted fries and you said no." She whines as she sees Chris grab a handful of her fries. "Sharing is caring, pretty sure Paula showed you that." He refers to her mom. "Whatever," She rolls her eyes. "I have something to tell you later." She says, feeling nervous. "Can I know now?" She shakes her head at his question. "Fine, I think I can wait."

"What time do you have to be home to film?" She asks as she puts the car in drive. The triplets had started their youtube channel not that long ago, and they quickly got a following and became popular after graduation which was about a month ago. "In like fifteen minutes." Chris shrugs. "Fifteen? Why didn't you tell me? We're like thirty minutes away." Chris grabs her hand resting on the arm rest. She starts to feel those butterflies in her tummy anytime he touches her. "Wanted to spend more time with you."

As Y/n pulled up to Chris' house. She parks the car and looks at Chris so she can tell him the news. "So," Chris cuts her off. "Y/n, can I tell you something?" Y/n nods. "Sure, anything." Chris sighs before he begins. "I know we've been hanging out a lot lately, and I've noticed that you've seen me more as a friend, but I don't feel the same way. And I'm sorry if I made it seem like I felt the same way, I just didn't want you to feel embarrassed that I wasn't showing the same emotions back." Her heart sinks and her ears start ringing.

"What?" She says in disbelief. "Y/n," He starts again, and tries to grab her hand, but she pulls her hand away. "Chris, no. Are- are you serious? You knew I had feelings for you, so you decided to play along and just mess with my feelings? Do you know how fucked up that is? I- I can't believe this." Her eyes start welling up with tears. "How could you do something like that? You could've just told me when you first noticed and I would've back off. I would've preferred that more than your stupid ass game."

"Y/n it wasn't a game." He sighs, feeling his heart break each time he saw her wipe a tear that he caused. "Get out my car, Chris." She turns to look out at her window, she couldn't even look at him anymore. "Y/n, let's talk about it, please?" Chris pleads, but it doesn't mean anything to her anymore. "Chris, seriously, get out of my car. I can't be around you right now." Her tears are coming down so fast she can barely wipe them as they fall down to her neck, leaving streaks of mascara down her cheeks.

After what feels like hours, she hears Chris unbuckle the seat belt and collect his shopping bags from the floor then opening the car door and getting out. Finally, she looks over at him and sees that his eyes are glossed. "Don't you dare try to contact me or use any of our friends to reach me and don't come to my house. I'm done with you and our friendship." She grabs the car door and slams it. She quickly puts the car in parks and drives off.

As much as Chris wants to chase after her car like a damn dog, he stands frozen in place. His heart aching more by the second, and every second that passes by he wishes his commitment issue hadn't gotten in the way. Now he has lost his best friend.

It must've been a while that he stood there. The sound of tires on the gravel making him look up, only hoping that it's Y/n returning to talk to him. To listen to him. It didn't help that both Matt and Y/n's car were black and almost looked like the same model. He only realized that it was Matt and Nick from the way Matt beeped at him.

"The fuck you standing out here for?" Nick says as he rolls the window down sipping on his Dr.Pepper. "I just fucked up in the worst way possible. I broke her. Fuck." He puts his hands on his eyes and throws his head back and sighs. Nick knew what Chris was talking about. He had told his weeks prior that leading her on wasn't the smartest idea. But, he never listened to him. "Nick, take him inside. I'll park the car and head inside." Nick gets out of the car and picks up Chris' bags off the ground and wraps his arm around Chris' shoulders to take him inside.

"Fuck, Nick. I- I should've listened to you." Nick shushes him. "Hey, we'll talk about it in a bit. Why don't you cool down a bit, okay?"

It took Chris about an hour to calm down and collect his thought before he could tell his brothers what had happened. During the hour of silence, Nick snuck some texts to Y/n even after Chris told him not to. Knowing that she said specifically to not use them to try and contact her. However, Nick was contacting her for himself. After all, she was a friend to all three. Matt just laid back on the couch and put his hands on his forehead. Just thinking about how if she doesn't want to talk to Chris, she doesn't want to talk to all three of them. And also thinking about how he lost a friend.

After telling them everything that happened, Matt didn't hesitate to call his every name in the book. Idiot, Son of a bitch, Dumbass, Stupid, Dickhead. You name it. Matt didn't know any of this was happening on Chris' part. He knew Y/n had a crush on Chris and the way he saw Chris with her, he thought he felt the same way. But, Matt was wrong.

The two boys kept telling him to go to her house. Matt offered to drive him. But, Chris always reminded them of the part where she said to not go to her house. "Okay, how about you just give her a week or two. And then go to her house and talk it out. And during that time, me and Nick will text her to see how she's doing." Matt suggested and Chris liked the idea.

Over the next fourteen days, Chris' daily life consisted of waking up, eating, laying back in bed, scrolling through pictures of himself and Y/n, shower, eat, and sleep. Nick and Matt tried to reach Y/n every other day to not annoy her as much. Nick asked her to hang out a couple of times but she always politely with being busy and getting ready for college. Y/n was the only one out of all four of them to apply to colleges as she wanted to major in marketing. Nick asked her what college she chose but she always left him on read.

The triplets had known that she applied to many colleges, both in-state and out of state. She didn't tell them which ones because she didn't want to get her hopes up if she felt particularly about one school.

On the fourteenth day, Chris decided to head to Y/n's house. In the morning, he walked into Matt's room and asked if he could get a ride more later to Y/n's house. Of course, he said yes. Given the fact that he wants Chris to fix this situation he caused. Then came six o'clock. The sun was unfortunately starting to set. Chris kept stalling whenever Matt came into his room and asked if he was ready. "The sun is going down for fuck sakes. If you don't get your ass in the car in ten minutes i'm not taking you whenever you ask again." He leaves and shuts the door. Chris looked himself in the mirror, his under eye bags had gotten bad. His hair was messy, he hadn't shaved his somewhat of a stubble. He looked a mess.

When Matt was getting fed up in the car he went to turn off the car but he saw Chris come out the house. "I'm nervous." Chris says has he gets in the car, pulling his hood on. "Just- I don't even know what to tell you, honestly."

The fifteen minute car ride was silent the whole way. Chris' leg kept on bouncing and he kept picking at his fingers. "It's your time to shine, buddy." Matt padded his shoulder. Since there was no parking in front of her house, he parked at the beginning of her block. "If she slaps you, you deserved it and I don't blame her. But, whatever she says you have to respect her decision. Good or bad. You really went low with this one." He unlocked and turned off the car. "I'll see you in a bit."

As Chris began to walk to her house, he couldn't get the image of her crying out of his head. He'd never made her cry. He'd only ever seen her cry once when her childhood dog passed away a couple years ago. He saw her car in the driveway and knew she was home. He took a deep breath before going up her stairs. It took him a minute or two before ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door. He waited there for a minute. Chris started to believe that Y/n saw him standing out there from her home cameras and chose not to open the door.

"Respect her decision. Good or bad." He replays Matt's words over and over in his head. He snapped out of his trance as he heard footsteps approaching the door and unlocking it from the inside. As the door opens he's met with Y/n dad, Ryan. Fuck. He thinks. Y/n's dad is really protective of her and he wouldn't be surprised if Ryan just punched him across the face.

"Christopher." He never called him his full name. Always Chris or son. "Hey," He pauses. "Is Y/n home?" Chris says. Ryan furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "No, she's not." Now Chris is confused. "But, her car is here. I'm sorry, I haven't spoken to her since that day." He mentions and her dad hums. "Ah, yes. She told me about that. Just to let you know, I'm not mad at you and neither is Paula, trust me. You two are still young and are learning about love and everything. I know you two will find your way back to each other." His words make Chris' shoulders sink in relief. "But, I have some bad news for you, Son." Here it comes. She doesn't ever want to see him again. Ever. "I don't think she told you did she?" Chris looks at him weird. "About what?"

"She chose her college two days before going last saw her. I'm guessing she never told you when you two last saw eachother." He says the same thing again. "She told me a couple of weeks ago she was thinking of choosing Boston University because she got accepted." Did she leave for college already? Was she currently unpacking her dorm? "Chris, she left for California, she got accepted into UCLA. She's on the plane already." His heart sinks and he feels like can throw up at any moment. "What? Nick- he spoke to her yesterday. He didn't tell me this." Chris says.

"I'm sorry, son. Maybe you can call her when she lands? But, it'll be pretty late. It'll be twelve over there and three am here." Chris sighs. "I- I have to go. I'm sorry about everything, really. I'll see you around." Chris tries to hold back his tears. "Take care of yourself, Chris." He walks down the few steps and power walks to the car.

"She left, Matt." Chris startles Matt as he came out of nowhere. "What?" Matt drops his phone on his lap. "Did you know about this? Did Nick tell you?" He yells. "Chill out! No, I didn't know about this. Nick knows?" Chris gets into the car and pulls out his phone to call Nick. "Where did she leave to?"

"She got accepted into UCLA, she was going to tell me that day and I stopped her from it. Fuck." He tells Matt. "Holy shit."

"Nick, did you know that Y/n left for California and didn't tell us two?" Chris spits out as soon as Nick picks up the phone. "Wait, wait, what?" Nick yells. "I didn't know about this. I know I was texting her but she only mentioned college not what college, holy shit."

A YEAR LATER

It had been a year since Chris had last saw Y/n. Over the first month of not having Y/n by his side, he realized he had actually felt the same way about her. He tried to call her that same night he spoke with her dad but she didn't pick up. Weeks after weeks, all three of them tried to call. She didn't answer anybody. Not even Nick. They were all devastated that she had went no contact with them but they respected her choice. She had her reasons and they didn't question it.

The triplets had moved to LA in hopes of boosting their careers as content creators. But, the thought of Y/n being in the same city as Chris was always in the back of his mind. Any place he went, he always looked for her. Every restaurant, store, party, park. Everywhere. Chris had tried to move on, but he just couldn't.

It wasn't until one day where Nick had went out on his walk and stumbled upon a smoothie shop. He went in curious about the new place that had opened ten minutes from their LA home. Has he waited in line and placed his order, he took a seat on a bench near the window. He heard the chime of the bells that hung over there. As always he looked to see who had walked in. And his eyes almost came out their sockets. It was Y/n.

Although her hair was dyed from black to brown, and she was wearing sun glasses. He recognized her small tattoo she had on her arm, a little star. He stared at her like a hawk. His childhood best friend who he hadn't heard from in a year stood in line in the same smoothie shop ten minutes from his shared home with his brothers.

He wanted to make sure it was actually her. He hoped that she would take her sunglasses off of her face. A couple of seconds later, she rested her glasses on top of her head and he spotted that tiny mole she had near her eye. She went towards the back of the shop and sat down placing her bag on the table taking out her Macbook. When the barista called out his order he grabbed it and sat back down on the bench. Contemplating if he should go up to her.

He sent Matt a quick message. Not sending one to Chris because he know he will check Nicks location and sprint to see Y/n.

nick

you'll NEVER guess who's at the smoothie shop!!!

matt

smoothie shop?

nick

it's Y/N

matt

y/n??? as in y/n, Y/N??

nick

what other y/n do we know? should i go up to her? idk what to do HELP!!

DONT TELL CHRIS

matt

yes go up to her!!

and no i won't tell chris

After sipping on his smoothie and nervously biting his straw. Nick gets the courage to go up to her. "Y/n?" He stand in front of her table. "Nick?" She gasps and smiles. "Oh my god! What are you doing here?" She stands up, he places his smoothie down and gives her a hug. "I live like ten minutes from here!" Nick says. "You guys ended up moving to LA?" She pulls away with a smile on her face. "Yeah! We got here about three months ago." Y/n hugs him one more time. She couldn't believe it was Nick.

"Sit, sit with me. If you're not in a rush, that is." She sits back down and Nick pulls out the chair in front of him. "Not at all." They chat for a while, ignoring that one question Nick is wanting to ask. But eventually he asks. "I don't want to ruin the mood or anything but, what happened? Not with you know who but getting up and leaving all of a sudden?" He says. She sighs, putting her smoothie down. "I was going to tell you guys. I was actually going to tell Chris that night but then you know what happened. I had- It was a spur in the moment, I guess? I wasn't supposed to leave until the end of August. But, I needed time to focus on myself and I just thought to come here and get used to the place I'll be in for a couple of years."

"And I know you guys were probably calling me, but, shit, you won't believe this but my phone got stolen right when I landed here. Some idiot on a bike swiped my phone from my hand when I saw the calls from all three of you. So I had to text my parents from a strangers phone. And I lost all my contacts, my social media passwords and everything." She sighed. "And I didn't memorize anyone's number besides my parents'."

"Oh shit, that would've been my last straw." Nick said. "Trust me, it was. I broke down on the phone with my mom and she actually flew out here the next day while she got me an uber to my hotel." After what feels like hours of catching up. Nick has to leave. "I have to go now." He pouts, looking at the time on his phone. They had been talking for three hours considering that it was now nearing one in the afternoon. "That's fine, here give me your phone, I'll give you my number." He hands her his phone and she goes to look for her contact. She replaces her old phone number with her new one.

"Here, I replaced my old number with my new one." He puts it back in his pocket. "Thanks, I'll text you first thing when I get home. And, is it okay if I told Chris that I ran into you?" He picks up his empty smoothie cup. "Sure, I don't hold anything against him anymore, and honesty I've gotten over him and the whole situation. I understand where he was coming from." She also grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder. Nicks heart breaks a bit for Chris but understands where Y/n is coming from.

"Oh- well I'm glad you're doing better now. Let's try and plan a hangout soon?" They both walk out the shop together. "Definitely! Well, I'm going this way." She points to the right. "And I'm going that way." Nick points to the left. "I'll keep in touch." Y/n leans in for one more hug. "Me too. See you soon."

Nick had a pep in his step as he walked back home. He kept replaying his conversation with Y/n. He just couldn't belive she was back in his life. When he stepped foot inside the house. He saw Chris on the couch. "Where were you? I thought you went on a walk?" Chris asks. "I bumped into someone." For a second, Y/n crossed over Chris' mind. But that would be impossible, right? "Oh? Who?" He turns his phone off. "Y/n," Chris' heart starts to beat fast. "Y/n? As in Y/n, Y/n?" He had the same reaction Matt did. "Yes, I ran into her at a smoothie shop and I hung out with her for a couple of hours." Chris couldn't believe it.

"Was- was she okay? Did she say anything about me? Does she hate me? Does she look different?" Chris rambled. "Chill, Chris. I'll tell you everything, but what she said about you. I think you have to hear it from her not me." Nick was right. Close to the living room, Matt had heard Nick's voice and hopped out of his bed. "Nick! How was it? Does she hate us?" Matt asks. "No, she doesn't hate us." Chris is confused. "Matt you knew?"

"Yes, but he told me not to tell you. Knowing you'd track him and show up in front of them." He explained. Chris agreed. He knew he would've made a fool of himself. "Did you get her number?" Nick nods. "We're going to plan something to hand out. I'll ask if she wants to hang out with all three of us."

Two weeks had passed since Nick ran into Y/n, they've texted everyday and gotten used to their old habits of before a year ago. Nick tried to hang out with her the week after they ran into each other but she had a busy schedule with her classes, exams, and her paid internship. But, she had a free day this next week, which is today.

She pulled up in front of the triplets house and knocked on the door waiting for an answer. A couple of seconds passed by and she heard loud footsteps coming. The door opened and revealed Matt. "Matt!" She smiles, pulling him into a hug. "Y/n! Oh my god! I missed you." He hugs her tightly. Pulling away, he moves from the door to let her in. "Nice place." She compliments as she enters the living room area. "Thanks." They both catch up a bit, her telling him everything that had happened a year ago.

"Where's everyone?" She asks. "I think they're showering, I know Nick was in there for a while." He says. Still, he can't believe Y/n is right in front of him. After a couple of minutes, Matt hears his phone ring from his room. "Shit, I'll be back."

Y/n sits in their kitchen alone, on her phone when she hears someone coming up the stairs. She looks to her left and sees Chris. Chris also sees her and freezes. Her hair is brown is the first thing he notices before he notices the smile on her face. "Hey, Chris." She stands up, Chris walking towards her. "Y/n, I- I can't believe you're actually here. Oh my gosh." He automatically pulls her into a hug.

"How- how've you been?" He asks as he pulls away, looking into her eyes. "I've been good. My internship has been kicking my ass, but the pay is too good to quit. And school is school. How about you? How have you been?" She asks. "I've been good, yeah. We've been filming a lot. I came out with a clothing brand called Fresh Love. That's been exciting." She gasps. "Really? That's so cool, I'll have to see it."

They both stare at each other, still can't believe that they're talking again. "Y/n!" Nick breaks their silent moment. Chris turns around and clears his throat. "Hey, Nick." Matt eventually comes back from his phone call and all four of them catch up for about an hour. They then decide to go to a restaurant for lunch. As they go downstairs towards the garage Y/n speaks as Chris quickly goes back up to the kitchen to grab something. "Do you mind if I use the bathroom?" Nick and Matt nod. "You can use Chris' it's in his room." Nick points to the closed door. "We'll be in the car."

Y/n opens the door and sees Chris' room. He doesn't have much. But, she spots a framed picture of herself and Chris from their graduation placed on his nightstand. She quickly spots the bathroom and enters, closing the door behind her. Chris comes down the stairs and sees that his room door is open and is confused. Suddenly he hears his bathroom door opening and closing. He peeps inside and sees Y/n walk out from there, startling her. "Oh! You scared me. Sorry, Nick said I could use your restroom." She says. "It's fine. Hey, can I talk to you real quick?"

She nods. "I know I was a dick last year with everything that went down. And- and I had a lot of time to process everything that we went through and I realized that I had feelings for you all along. My commitment issue got in the way, and I hate that they did." Her heart breaks a bit. "Chris, I'm sorry but, I'm not ready for a relationship anymore. I also had a lot of this to process everything and I realized that I needed to focus on myself more and start fresh. Which is why I wanted to eventually tell you that I just wanted to be friends for now. And just see where we end up in a couple of months." Chris' chest pangs. Respect her decision, respect her decision. Matt's voice echos in his head. "O- Oh. Yeah, that's totally fine. i respect your decision, and I see where you're coming from, But, I just want to let you know that I'm in all the way and I'll always wait for you, okay?" He smiles. "Okay." She smiles, a tear slipping from her eye. But Chris quickly wipes it off from her.

"I'll always wait for you."

[i-heart-yellowstone]

John Dutton with wife reader. Him being in such a mood that even his children start to tease him and her joining in. Anything at all. Fluff/suggestive. Up to you. Thanks!! :))

With prompts; "Are you really this happy 24/7?"

"Are you really this grumpy 24/7?"

"Are you really this happy 24/7?"

Tags [ @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @pear-1206

Exiting through the front door I joined my husband on the old wooden porch swing that overlooked the main part of the property we called our home. He moved one of his arms and laid it back down over my shoulder once I had taken my spot right by his side.

The sounds of nature were the only things we could hear for once. There weren't any of his adult kids running to complain about something or him having to rush off to fight someone who wanted to take the land from us.

I thought we could live in this peaceful moment forever- unfortunately that isn’t the case when it comes to Beth Dutton.

Her car quickly came down the gravel and dust driveway where she parked at the end of the steps. She slammed her car door walking up to the porch seeing me and her father sitting on the swing. “Are you really this happy 24/7?" She bluntly asked the two of us.

I began choking on the coffee I was drinking from one of the kitchen mugs, not expecting that to come from her mouth. “What! Why would you ask that?”

“Beth, I’m allowed to be happy with another woman.” Her father John remarked back at his only daughter.

His only daughter wasn’t exactly happy when he had brought me to the ranch a couple of times for our dates. And she especially wasn’t happy when we had gotten married a year later. I knew why though, it was because I wasn’t her mother. To her I was he step-mother.

We had done our best to be nice to one another but apparently she hadn’t fully accepted that her father could be happy with another woman just yet and we’ve been married for almost five years now.

Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “Come on, daddy. I mean you can’t really be happy all the time with her.”

“Beth!” John grumbled running a frustrated hand down his face.

I held my coffee mug in both hands, nudging my husband with my elbow in a joking manner. “Oh come on, John. You don’t have to fake being happy with me.”

“Y/n, I’m not faking it.” John shifted on his side of the porch swing so that he was directly facing me.

I tilted my head to the side knowing I could tease him for a little longer before he would figure out that I was entirely joking with the love of my life. “Are you sure? I mean I doubt I’m anything like Evelyn was in bed.”

“My mom popped out four kids in total. How many kids do you want to give birth to Y/n?” Beth asked, flipping her hair out of her eyes. “I’m going to get you someone better.”

John rolled his eyes, sitting his coffee mug down on the side table with frustration in his tone. “Beth, that's too far. Okay. I’m married to Y/n and you’re just going to have to accept it.”

“It’s going to happen, daddy.” She smirked in my direction.

Leaning back in the porch swing I almost couldn’t contain my laughter. “Oh god.”

“This whole man-to-man shit thing we got going is becoming a little ridiculous.” John shook his head wishing this would end.

His daughter spun on her heels walking up to the front door. “I’m on it.”

“Beth!”

She called back. “I got it.”

“Beth!” Her father shouted at her.

She shut the front door and hollering beforehand. “I’m totally on it!”

Once we were back alone together on the front porch I touched the side of his face making him look me in the eye. “Honey, I was just joking when I said I don’t enjoy being married to you.”

“But you said-“

I cut him chuckling lightly. “It was a lie, John. I was just trying to make your daughter happy. The only way I think she will like me is when she sees me start agreeing with her on some things.”

“Thank god.” He sighed heavily, slumping his shoulders in relief.

Resting one hand against the side of his face I felt him lean into my palm. “I can’t imagine being married to anyone else but you.”

“I didn’t realize that I was missing having a woman in my life until I saw your truck break down on the side of the road that morning.” He recalled causing a smile to grace my lips at the memory.

When I had gotten a flat tire on my truck right outside the Dutton fence line I thought I would have to call someone to tow me to a shop which would take hours until I saw a man around my age rode up to the fence on a horse wearing a white cowboy hat.

Leaning forward I kissed him slowly, moving my other hand behind his neck making the gentle kiss deeper until he broke it suggesting a common morning routine for us. “How do you feel about going for a ride?”

“Have you not met me? I would love nothing more.” Getting up from the swing I finished the last of my coffee, rushing towards the wooden stairs heading straight to the barn walking backward. Yelling with my hands cupped around my mouth. “Meet me at the barn. I’ll saddle the horses, just don’t forget my hat.”

John groaned getting to his feet, calling back. “You’re hat. I remember the white hat belonging to me when we met.”

“What’s mine is yours, honey!” I laughed with a cheerful grin.

He shook his head going to grab what we needed to ride our horses, truly treasuring the joy he felt once falling in love with you. “I love her. Let’s go to work.” It would take time for Beth to accept her father could be happy with someone else than her mother, but he wasn’t going to not live his life simply waiting for her approval.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 6 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: In the aftermath of the kiss, Bob and Anna try to process their feelings. Bob works on more of his poetry while Anna hides from her friends, but neither of them can get past their attraction. When another man arrives during a night out, all Bob feels is jealousy.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Taking Anna to Chippy's was a mistake, because Bob was falling harder by the minute. She was cute and smart. Witty and reserved. And the fact that she was a little tipsy after one drink just made her more endearing. Jessica could drink more Sam Adams than anyone he'd ever seen before, and Bradshaw's wife could probably play beer pong professionally, but not Anna. She was giggling and demanding he not download a dating app. She was smiling nonstop and touching him. And he wasn't even allowed to have a chance with her.

She only lived a mile or so from campus, which was a shame, because Bob would have liked to spend more time with her. He played with the radio dials in his old truck as he drove, trying to keep his hands busy. And that's when he swore he heard Anna whisper a line from his poem.

"What did you just say?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

"Nothing," she told him as the car behind his truck honked, and Bob tapped the accelerator when he realized the light was green. He must have been mistaken. There was no way anyone actually read the stuff he posted online, let alone Anna. He just did it for a way to help him release his emotions and thoughts.

But he wanted to make sure. When he parked at the curb in front of her building, he turned toward her with curious eyes and whispered, "I thought you said-"

He was instantly distracted by the way she kept her eyes on his as her chest rose and fell a little faster. She unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted closer to him along the seat, and he froze as she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips found his like it was the most natural thing in the world. When she made a soft sound, he raised his hand up to touch her cheek, something he'd been dying to do for weeks and weeks. Her skin felt silky soft as she nibbled gently on his lip, and then he remembered everything that she'd said to him. He couldn't start down this path just to have her put up another roadblock. 

He forced himself away from her. "Anna. I don't think this is something friends do," he croaked, praying that by some twist of face, she'd end up in his arms. 

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, hauling herself back across the seat and throwing the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bob." He watched her climb down and grab her tote bag, barely glancing back at him as she slammed the door and ran inside the building. 

He was going to offer to walk her to her door. He wanted to make sure she got inside safely. He wanted to do a lot of things that would hopefully come across in a friendly way. This was decidedly not how he imagined his night would end, staring at the spot where she disappeared inside and wondering if she regretted kissing him. She really ran away from him at top speed without any clarification.

"Damn it, Bob," he whispered as he put his truck in gear. But he didn't know what he could have done differently. He just wished he didn't know how fucking good it felt to have Anna's lips on his, because it would probably never happen again. He wanted to ask her why she kissed him in the first place. Then an even more devastating thought occurred to him. What if she didn't want to be his friend after this?

He really needed Nat to come home from her deployment, because he knew he couldn't mention this to Jessica at D&D. What would he even tell her? That Anna kissed him exactly once and then ran away faster than an olympic sprinter?

Then he parked in front of his house and saw the text that made him shove his phone into his pocket and not look at it again until morning. 

Anna Webber: I'm sorry. That was a mistake. Please forgive me.

--------------------------

Anna was curled up in her sad bed trying not to cry. Bob would probably never want to talk to her again now. What kind of person told a man they just wanted to be friends and then kissed him like the words meant nothing? Anna, apparently. But it felt so nice. No. Better than that. Kissing Bob felt necessary.

Before she could change her mind, she texted him and then turned off her phone. I'm sorry. That was a mistake. Please forgive me.

She rolled onto her back and started to cry. Not for the first time, she thought about calling Kevin and screaming at him for ruining everything. She should feel a sense of freedom by now after finally leaving him in New Jersey with Alyssa, but she just didn't. It wasn't fair that Anna had no control over what Kevin did when he still seemed to dictate what she was allowed to do. But she knew she had to be a better person than him.

When she reached down to the floor, her fingers found the stack of books she was currently reading for work and for entertainment. She picked up the Vonnegut from Bob, because it wasn't even really that late, and she was in a mood now anyway. Then she took the time to find the note from him. Her new bookmark. She read through her tears until they stopped. She didn't dog ear a single page. She used his note to save her spot, and then she fell asleep with the book pressed to her chest. 

She felt awful on Friday at work. When she gave her first lecture, it felt forced instead of insightful, and her notes seemed to blur on the pages in front of her. She didn't have an appetite, which was fine since she had no money for food and forgot to pack a lunch. Instead of going to the weird tree and the nicest women she'd ever met, she sat in her office and cried with her head resting on her folded arms. 

Bob didn't text her back, but she figured he wouldn't. There was really nothing else to say. She already decided she wasn't going to mention the kiss to Advanced Calculus or Advanced Physics, but perhaps she should tell them it would be a good thing after all if Bob went on a dating app. He deserved to be happy. Someone else would make him happy. 

As Anna was packing up everything she would need for the weekend, there was a knock on her office door. It was late, and her stomach was growling loudly, but she called out, "Come in!"

The room was so small, Bradley Bradshaw and his wife barely fit on the opposite side of her desk when standing side by side, and Anna watched him shuffle around so he was standing partially behind her. "What's up, Anna?" he rasped with a grin, and she had no difficulty imagining him ten years younger in a loud fraternity house. 

"Hi," she replied, clasping her hands together. "What are you both doing here? I was just about to catch the bus and go home."

"You never came to lunch today!" her friend complained. "And you didn't text me back. I was starting to get nervous that the creeper from the sociology department got to you or something."

"No," Anna replied with a soft laugh. "I'm fine."

Two pairs of eyes bored into her, and then Bradley and his wife both blurted out, "How was Chippy's?"

"Did Bob make a move?" Bradley asked, his hands caressing his wife through her tweed blazer. 

Anna swallowed a huge lump of guilt. "We're just friends," she managed to say.

"Yeah, yeah," he said with an eye roll. "Sure. But did he? Because I've been being a dick all week about getting him on a dating app even though I know he's not into the idea. Jake and I thought it might help."

"Are you serious right now?" his wife gasped, smacking at his hands while Anna rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "I told you not to interfere," she hissed.

"We're just friends," Anna repeated a little louder over the two of them arguing. "Chippy's was great. Amazing peanuts. Sticky floors. Grouchy bartender. It was like being back in undergrad."

Just as Bradley was raising his hand, about to speak again, he took an elbow to the side that seemed to make him think better of it as his wife asked, "Then you won't mind going back on Wednesday? To surprise Jessica for her birthday?"

"It's her birthday?" Anna asked, excited by the idea of being invited to a celebration even though Bob would definitely be there as well.

"Yes. I texted you about it when you skipped out on us at lunchtime."

"Right," she replied, knowing she'd only been checking her phone occasionally on purpose. "I'll be there on Wednesday. Of course I will." She was going to have to suck up her embarrassment over everyone trying to push her and Bob together, but at least they didn't know about the kiss she ran away from. "Anything for Jess."

"And are you coming to the Hard Deck tonight?" her friend asked as her husband's hands crept back into place on her body. 

"I have a lot of work to do. Midterms are just around the corner," she replied lamely. "So, probably not."

With a sigh, her friend nodded once and said, "Please don't skip lunch next week. We missed you."

Bradley said, "I'll make extra hummus," before his wife started pushing him to the door.

The confirmation that the hummus was in fact homemade left Anna feeling slightly jealous. That feeling only grew as she watched her friend take Bradley's chin in her hand and softly say, "Oh, Beer Boy. I don't even want to know what kind of a monstrosity of a dating profile you'd make for Bob."

He smiled and waved at Anna before he looked at his wife and said, "I just want all of my friends to be as happy as I am."

She grabbed him by his khaki belt and said, "Let's stop by the library."

Anna desperately wanted to be that happy, too.

---------------------------

"What's your problem, man?" Mickey asked as he drove Bob home from Dungeons & Dragons. "You were weird all night."

"Just tired," Bob replied, and he was being at least partially honest. He'd been staying up later than usual, working on some poetry and reading the books Anna recommended. He enjoyed all of them; she seemed to know exactly how to reach his innermost hidden thoughts and ideas. She somehow understood him, and that was more exciting than he wanted it to be right now. But when he and Anna had to be together in person again, he knew it was going to be a different story. He was almost relieved she didn't show up at the Hard Deck earlier, because he had no idea how to act around her now. 

She knew he had feelings for her, and that kiss had roughed him up a bit. Even a couple days afterwards, he thought he could still feel the pressure of her lips on his and smell her shampoo. 

"Are you still hung up on Anna?"

Mickey's words made Bob laugh. "More than ever before."

"You know what I think you should do?" his friend asked as he zipped along in his sports car.

Bob cradled his forehead and said, "I'd love to hear it," even though he was pretty sure it would annoy him.

"You should tell her that you don't want to be just friends. And then kiss her."

Bob turned and looked at Mickey as the passing street lights illuminated him and then left him in darkness over and over again. "I'm not going to do that. All I can do is hope she changes her mind." He didn't mention the fact that they had already kissed; he was sure she was too embarrassed by it to want it to become public knowledge. 

As Mickey pulled up to Bob's house, he said, "Well whatever you're doing right now, it's not working."

Bob sighed and said, "Thanks. That's really helpful. See you on Monday. Oh, and don't forget about the surprise party thing on Wednesday."

"Yeah, I won't forget. Hard Deck at seven o'clock."

"Chippy's!" Bob called out as he pulled away. Sometimes he felt like the most organized one out of all of his friends, and it was honestly amazing that Mickey even managed to get to work on time. At least Suzanne's lights were off as Bob walked up to his porch and let himself inside. He didn't have the energy to deal with anyone else tonight. 

He stripped down to his underwear and got ready for bed, but he took his computer with him. He was ridiculous for doing it, but he looked at the notes he'd typed up last night and started writing. It was never as beautiful or eloquent as the things he read from others, but posting his poetry online felt like he was at least taking ownership of something he created. This poem, however, he didn't know if he'd be able to post it at all. He found himself writing about red hair when he realized it would warrant a mature rating label if he ever did decide to post it. Then he started to think about all the things he wanted to do with Anna and her red hair. 

Bob grunted and set his computer aside. She was giving him mixed signals, and he wasn't sure she'd ever change her mind about being with him, but that didn't stop his body from responding as he imagined her beautiful hair spread out on his pillow. He'd take fistfuls of it and press his nose to it. He'd tug gently on it and tell her that she was beautiful. He would press kisses to the coppery strands and then guide her lower on his body as he grasped a little harder.

"Shit," Bob panted, kicking off his covers and pulling himself free from his gray boxer briefs. He jerked off to the idea of Anna and him together. She'd kiss his hips and thighs and laugh softly before licking along his length. His name would sound like the most beautiful poetry on her lips. Her freckles would stand out in the soft lamplight. He'd guide her along with his fingers wrapped around her hair as she teased him.

He stroked himself with his eyes closed, panting softly and whispering some of his own poetry, and he wasn't even surprised when he came all over his flat abs. When he adjusted his glasses with his clean hand, he thought he'd much prefer to see Anna in his bed with him.

--------------------------

Anna was starved for conversation with another human being by the time Monday morning arrived. Forcing herself to be a recluse as a means to distract herself from her plethora of issues was clearly not the answer. Not when she'd actually managed to make some friends in San Diego. She arrived on campus early and stopped in the lounge for a donut only to find nobody else from her department was really around. Then when she gave her first lecture, half of her students looked like they were still asleep. She tucked her new bookmark of sorts into Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and counted down the hours until she could meet her friends for lunch.

Jessica seemed none the wiser about her upcoming surprise party, but that was the whole point of the thing. Anna started bracing herself to spend some more time around Bob, hoping her kiss was so forgettable that he'd already moved on. Honestly, that was a pretty good possibility. She hadn't really considered that before, but it made a lot of sense. She was boring. After another day or two, he'd have probably forgotten all about it.

This helped Anna push herself through the week. On Wednesday, she took the bus home to change, and she knew she'd never make it to Chippy's on time in her sundress and denim jacket unless she took an Uber to the bar. So she gritted her teeth and paid for the ride, wishing for so many reasons that she hadn't kissed Bob so that she could have asked him to pick her up. But when she got to Chippy's, Bob wasn't even there. And Anna was met with a different issue in the form of a very attractive man with dark hair and dark eyes.

She felt his gaze on her as soon as she arrived, surprised he was looking at her of all people. But in her rush to get to Chippy's on time, all she really got to do was say hi to Jake and Bradley before they got her into position for the surprise. It looked like the bar had been reserved just for Jessica tonight, and that made Anna inexplicably happy and sad at the same time. Even that old bartender looked excited to celebrate. Even Dr. Rosenthal showed up. 

Then Bob rushed in wearing jeans, a snug fitting tee shirt and a worried expression. His hair looked damp, and he was straightening out his glasses as he glanced around and asked, "Did I make it in time?" Anna felt like someone knocked the wind out of her as he got closer.

"Barely," Bradley replied, checking his watch. "Sugar and Jess should be here any minute. Where the fuck were you?"

Bob's cheeks turned a little pink as he muttered, "I had to help Suzanne with her car. She had a flat tire. And then she insisted I come inside for a few minutes so she could thank me properly. I lost track of time."

Anna crossed her arms and pressed her lips together as Bob came to stand right next to her. When he softly said hello, she just nodded and tried to give him a smile, but she was too overwhelmed with too many different feelings. He smelled like soap, and she knew his body was warm without him even touching her. She didn't know who Suzanne was, but she was automatically a little jealous, which was ridiculous. But now she felt like that kiss last week was as forgettable as she both hoped and feared. 

Anna wanted to cry, but even her tears had to take a backseat at the moment as the door to Chippy's opened up and both of her friends walked inside. "Happy birthday!" everyone shouted, and Anna tried her best to look enthusiastic for the occasion. 

"No!" Jessica called out, shoving at the other woman's arm as she realized it was her birthday party. "You're sneaky! You lied to me about getting just one birthday beer!" Then she rushed forward in her adorable suit and high heels, heading straight for Jake's arms. But the second person she reached out to hug was Anna.

"Happy birthday, Advanced Physics," she said with a stifled laugh.

"I'm so happy you're here," Jessica gushed, and Anna felt a lot better as she returned the hug.

But all too soon, she was left on her own. At least all of the tables were covered in dishes of peanuts. Jake was paying for Sam Adams for everyone, but Anna knew she shouldn't drink. Not again. Not after she got tipsy with Bob. 

She could still feel those dark eyes on her as she broke open a peanut and enjoyed the perfectly salty taste. Who was that guy? His arms were wrapped around Jessica's waist, and Jake looked like he was about to go through the roof as his girlfriend laughed. Then he made his way over to Bradshaw's wife and gave her the same treatment. But Bradley looked completely unfazed when she kissed the other man on the cheek and smiled. They whispered something back and forth, and he met Anna's eyes with a wink. She quickly looked away, hoping to avoid a conversation. Bob was sipping a beer and smashing open his own peanuts, and she knew if she couldn't be with him, she didn't want to be with anyone else either. 

Too late. "Hi, are you Anna?" came an unfamiliar voice followed by the spicy scent of too much cologne.

"I am," she answered, looking down at the extended hand of this handsome stranger. "Are you a friend of Jessica's?"

He laughed as their hands met. "Sure," he replied smoothly. "But it's really Bradshaw and I that go way back. I'm Dev. Dev Borah."

"Oh," she said, still shaking his hand and trying to make sense of things. Why was she so awkward? She finally released him and said, "It's... nice to meet you. Um, how do you know Bradley?"

"Virginia. Undergrad. I graduated with the two of them, actually. Nearly died of shock last year when I heard they were both out in San Diego and getting married. Can I get you a drink, Beautiful? Something other than Sam Adams?"

"Oh," Anna gasped as she looked up at him in surprise. "Um... I don't really drink much."

Dev moaned and gripped at his chest dramatically. "You're killing me. I own a brewery!"

Anna could barely tell one type of beer from another, but she wasn't about to tell him that. And quite honestly, talking about making beer sounded interesting enough; she loved learning about new things. But he just called her beautiful. She was flustered and too hot, and then she saw Bob standing off to the side with Mickey, and his expression was one of great displeasure. 

"A brewery?" she asked, trying to force her attention back to Dev.

"Beta Brewing," he said proudly. "We're currently working on a two million dollar expansion project. It's kind of a construction zone, but if you ever want to come up to sample the goods, I'd love to have you."

Anna's eyes went wide. That sounded like an innuendo, but Dev's face was calm as he sipped his pint. Anna figured he must be okay if he was friends with all of these people, but she was never going to go there without the girls. "Maybe if everyone else wanted to go, I could tag along?"

Dev laughed and said, "Bradshaw makes the drive frequently enough. I'm sure we'll see each other again. But just to be sure... I could give you my personal number."

----------------------------

Bob was seething. He'd met Dev Borah exactly one time before, and while he'd had pretty neutral feelings about him prior to tonight, now he hated the sight of him. He'd persuaded Anna to have a beer even though Bob heard her say she didn't really want one, and now he was typing something into Anna's phone. He was giving her his number, just like Bob had done so many weeks ago.

"Stop torturing yourself, man," Mickey said, handing Bob some more peanuts.

"You think she likes him?" Bob asked, voice tight as he grabbed the bowl in his shaky hand.

Mickey shrugged next to him. "What's not to like?"

Bob tossed the bowl onto one of the tables. "You're not helping." He walked away to find someone else, anyone else, to talk to. He should have kissed Anna for as long as he could when he had the chance, because it was all he could think about now. It was all he wanted. She kept looking at him; if she was going to talk to Dev all night and say that kissing Bob was a mistake, then why was she looking at him?

He needed to get out of here and go home, but he knew his friends would be disappointed. Even Suzanne would shake her head. Honestly, he'd be annoyed with himself, too. But his mood was something so unfamiliar, he was ready to force himself to talk to the woman standing next to Anna who he thought was from the science department just so he wouldn't feel like a joke. 

"You know," Bradley said as he slung his arm around Bob's shoulders, "I had no idea Dev liked redheads so much. But then again, he never was too discerning back in the day."

"What do you want, Rooster?" he asked with a grunt.

"I just wanted to make sure you're having fun at Jess's little shindig."

Bob let Bradley slap him obnoxiously on the back as he asked, "Did you invite Dev? Is he going to give Anna a hard time or anything?" His eyes trailed back over to where Dev was still talking her ear off.

Bradley chuckled. "I invited him to get Jake riled up, but I had no idea you'd be collateral damage." He finally released Bob as he said, "And nah, Dev's harmless."

What Bob wouldn't give to have Natasha back. He missed her terribly, and all the guys seemed to be better behaved when she was around. But she'd take one look at Anna and probably embarrass him in front of her even more.

"I think I'm actually going to head home," came Anna's voice filtering over to Bob as she finally cut Dev off. "It was nice to meet you."

"Let me drive you," he replied immediately, and Bob could already picture him getting Anna settled into his Mercedes-Benz, his fingers grazing her bare thigh.

"No, that's okay," she told Dev as she backed away from him. "I'm just going to say goodbye to Jessica, and then I'll get an Uber."

She made her escape to the table next to where Bob stood, and Jessica gave her a big hug. "Happy birthday," Anna told her once again, followed softly by, "I'm glad we're friends."

Jessica squealed and hugged her tighter. "Me too."

"I'm going to call an Uber and head out," Anna was saying, but Jessica was already looking around. 

"No way. It's dark out, and someone here can drive you home. Hey, Bob? Can you drive Anna home?"

He knew he was going to say yes even though part of him didn't want to. And there was another part of him that assumed she'd just say Dev offered to take her. But when Anna looked up at him, he nodded and immediately said, "Of course."

To his surprise, Anna looked a little relieved as she took a step closer. "Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked him with a little wince.

"Not one bit. I was planning on heading home, and it's on the way."

Bob accepted a sloppy kiss on the cheek from Jessica who was well on her way to being drunk. Then he dug his keys from his pocket and nodded toward the door. Anna followed closely next to him, but unlike the last time they were at Chippy's, he didn't touch her. When Bob held the door open, he looked back over his shoulder at Dev who raised his pint glass with a smile of defeat, but he didn't really care about anyone except Anna.

"Thanks," she muttered, walking out into the cool, night air.

"Did you have a good time?" Bob asked, putting a little more space between them as he pointed up the block toward his truck.

Anna laughed, but the sound was tight and forced. "It was okay. I think Jessica was having fun, which is the most important thing, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing his key in his hand as all of the images of their kisses returned. Everything he thought about when he wrote new poetry and touched himself to completion. He swallowed hard; even being around Anna was a lot for his senses. He couldn't blame Dev for trying, but their interactions made him jealous. "Did you get Dev's number?"

Anna stumbled a bit on the sidewalk as she looked up at him, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. "I didn't ask for it. He just kind of gave it to me," she said softly. "He invited me up to his brewery to try some beers. When I told him I'm not much of a beer drinker, he said he'd really enjoy teaching me about the process."

"I'm sure he would," Bob muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

When he reached his truck, he wrenched the passenger door open for Anna, and she glowed softly in the dim, orange interior lighting. "He's a bit much," she said, looking up at him.

Bob nodded once, but she didn't make a move to climb in. "I don't know him very well, but I know he likes to hear himself talk." When she still didn't move, Bob asked, "Are you going to call him? Give him the opportunity?"

"I already told you..." she said firmly. "I can't be in a relationship right now, so I wouldn't want to encourage Dev. And I'm really, really sorry about last week, Bob." She fidgeted with her hands and added, "But if I were in a place where I wanted to start something, I wouldn't pick him."

"Really?" Bob asked as his heart pounded. The most depraved part of him wanted to hear her say she liked him more than Dev. More than anyone.

"Really," she whispered, placing her hand on the seat. "I like old trucks better than fancy sports cars."

That was enough confirmation for Bob. His skin was tingling with anticipation he knew he couldn't quench, but he didn't mind as much now as he did ten minutes ago. "Yeah... you could do way better than a multi millionaire anyway."

Anna's laughter in response was so genuine, Bob laughed, too. The drive to her place was quiet but not as strained as he was afraid it would be, and when he was about a block away, she took her phone out and started messing around with it. "Thanks, Bob," she said as he pulled up to the curb.

He cleared his throat. "You know how you told me you didn't think I should use the dating app? Because I didn't need it?"

"Yeah?" she asked, reaching for the door handle but looking at him. 

He squeezed the steering wheel tight in both hands and said, "Well, I don't think you need Dev's phone number." He watched her jump down and turn to glance his way, and then she smiled.

"I already deleted it. Thanks again for the ride. Maybe I'll see you this weekend?"

He nodded once before she closed the door. As she walked inside, he said, "I hope so."

----------------------------

Oh. Oh, okay. She prefers you, Bob! Now get ready for action. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls. And thanks @attapullman for all the underwear discussions.

PART 7

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

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[fawnsprings]

౨ৎ.ᐟ reckless part two.

ও ven’s notes ; its finally here:’) reckless part two yay!! it’s insane to me because when i made the first part, i had just hit 500, but now im almost at 800??? wtf!!! i love u guys all so much!! if you haven’t read part one, i highly suggest you read it before reading this part <3

you can read part one here!

ও genre ; angstttttt

ও warnings ; swearing, crying, matt’s a bit mean at first, sorry if this lowkey doesn’t make sensese, FINALLY PROOF READ, very random ending btw 🌝 (HELP I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT)

you slam the front door open, hearing both nick and chris run after you. you also hear matt’s pathetic pleas for you to come back. he’s an idiot, you thought. you see blurry blobs that made up nick and chris in your vision as you get into your car. it’s like the scenario was written to happen, just then, small drops of rain started to drip onto the windshield. you begin to pull out of the triplets’ driveway to make your way back to your house, completely forgetting that fey was waiting for you back at her apartment.

you can hear your phone buzzing in your back pocket, getting spam from the triplets, matt spamming you the most though. you stop at a red light, sniffing your tears loudly. you finally grabbed your phone and look at the notifications that you could barely read from your blurry vision. you hear honks from behind you, snapping you back to reality as you start to drive again. you used the inside of your sleeve to wipe away your messy mascara stains and the tears that were pouring out non-stop.

after the car ride that was unbearable, you stepped out of the car, your jeans getting wet from the puddles of rain that was left behind from the small storm that passed by. you groan in frustration, storming your way to the front door. upon opening it, the familiar cozy scent grounds you from your emotions. you make your way up to your room, leaving behind small wet patches along the floor. you changed into some more comfortable clothes since your wet jeans and soaked sweater weren’t making you any more comfortable. you sit down on the edge of your bed, looking down at your feet dangling. you let out a shaky sigh, knowing what was needed to be done.

you lay down on the floor, grabbing a black box from under your bed. the messy letters MATT were on it with red paint. you open it slowly, seeing all of the teddy bears and letters matt had given you, making you just start crying again. you didn’t know why he cheated. you started to think of all the possible reasons. but they all didn’t make sense. you picked up a card and opened. it was the letter he wrote when he told you that you were the only girl he’d ever want in his life. you let out another shaky sigh, starting to slowly crumble the paper into a ball. you begin to do this to all of them. every. single. one. you grab the teddy bears and put them in a trash bag, ready to be donated for those who needed them. you got another bag, throwing away all of the bouquets of flowers.

then finally, all of his hoodies and shirts. you weren’t that cruel to just throw them away or donate them. you knew that matt would probably want them back. you debated it for a second if you should have nick get an uber and come get them and take it to matt. but you realized it would be more mature if you just go yourself. you grab an old backpack you found useless and shoved all of the hoodies and shirts in it. you put the bag on your desk chair, reconsidering her decision of going to his house again, probably seeing audrey still there. but of course, you grabbed your phone and put on your shoes before leaving the door with the heavy backpack.

you decided to kill two birds with one stone and take the bag of stuffed animals as well so you could drop them off at your local goodwill. you took a second before you started the car. small tears still rolled down your cheeks that you wiped away gently with the palm of your hands. again, you pulled out of your driveway and made your way to the triplets’ place. as you drove, you notice a call from fey. hesitantly, you press accept. you met fey’s worried expression looking through the camera. “hello? so what happened?” she asked softly. “he was kissing audrey” you mumble, hearing fey gasp. it sounded dramatic and sarcastic, but you knew that was how she would react. “what? i knew it. i never trusted her or him. im sorry love” she reassured you, her tone soft and gentle. “yeah, s’whatever.” you shrug. “where are you going now?” fey asked curiously.

“-‘m going to drop off his clothes, then im going to goodwill to donate some stuffed animals” you reply, making a right turn that entered the triplets neighborhood. “okay, after goodwill come back to my place. we can finally try baking that one recipe that the one guy on tinder gave me” she laughed. you thought it was funny, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. even a little bit. “yeah okay, i’ll see you soon” you mumble, ending the call. you started to get second thoughts about this. you grab the backpack from the passenger seat and made your way to the front door. hoping matt wouldn’t answer it. but thankfully, it was chris. “hey kid” he mumbled softly, pulling you in for a hug. “hey, c.” you reply, sniffling slightly. “can i come in?” you ask while looking up at him. he nods almost instantly, moving a bit so you could come into the house. you took off your shoes and walked upstairs into their living room and kitchen area.

“matt’s still.. he’s still in there if you..” chris trailed off. you nod slightly at chris’ reminder. you let out a small groan as you inched closer to matt’s door. you rested your hand on his doorknob, but you didn’t open it just yet. after a small breath, you open the door slowly. you immediately see matt sitting down on his bed, head in his hands with his elbows on his knees. you drop the backpack next to his desk, since you thought that he didn’t hear you walk in. after dropping it, matt’s head shot up and instantly looked at you. “bab—“ was what he was gonna say before you cut him off. “don’t call me baby” you snap quietly. “can we just— talk about this. please” he suggests. his tone was if he was demanding. “what is there to talk about?” you shrug. “you’re the one who cheated on me. i mean out of all the possibilities, what did i do wrong for you to cheat on me?” you ask while crossing your arms tight.

“-i i dont know. i know it was, very fucking stupid of me.” he said pathetically. “that’s still not a reason matt” you say, your eyebrows furrowing together. “okay, uhm. i guess i was just getting bored of.. you? bored isn’t the right word, but i was..” he started to ramble. “seriously matt? you were getting fucking bored of me? so instead of breaking up with me you just cheated on me?” you ask, your words laced with shock. “-y.. yes.” he said. you look at him for a few seconds before small tears started to pool in your eyes. “we were just always doing the same thing, over and over again. i just thought that i needed something new” he shrugged. you couldn’t fucking believe him. “matt are you kidding me? what did i tell you about communicating? you could’ve told me that me that you wanted to do something new. doesn’t matter if it has to do with sex or anything.” you say, raising your voice after every sentence. “but you don’t get it.” he snapped.

“oh, i don’t get it? yeah matt, i don’t. i don’t get how you cheated on me because you wanted to do something new. more like someone new” you mumble. “dude, it’s not my fault that all of your suggestions are the same thing. i ask you, ‘oh what do you wanna do’ and it’s always the same thing over and over again. you were getting boring to hang out with. that’s why i always ditched you to hang out at audrey’s house” he said while standing up from his spot. you look up at him for a few seconds. “so now what? you’re just gonna date audrey till you get tired of her too?” you ask quietly. “-‘m not dating her.” he argues. “oh that’s surprising” you gasp sarcastically. “please, you know i loved you, and i still do. i was just.. i don’t know.” he started to cry himself. “matt, you said that you’d never ever hurt me. but here you are, confessing to me that you were getting bored of me. it hurts more than anything” you whisper. “-‘m sorry.” he mumbled. “you know i can’t forgive you” you mumble back, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“are you leaving?” he asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. “obviously matt.” you sneer before leaving his room. matt stood there in the darkness that pooled inside of his room. chris stopped you before you were able to leave. “hey, ‘m sorry for what happened. matt’s not like this, i dunno what’s gotten into him” he whispered reassuringly as he hugged you tightly. this is.. surprising, is what you thought. other than that, you hugged chris back. “s’okay. thanks chris” you force a smile. “you’re welcome, if you ever need anything, you know you can text me. okay?” he smiled back at you, patting your shoulder firmly as he pulled away. you nod weakly and see matt emerge from his room. you quickly break eye contact and walk downstairs, putting your shoes on before leaving the house.

you enter your car. it’s quiet. you see you got a notification. chris texted you?

@flouvela @hearts4werka @mxqdii @mattscoquette @hearts4thetr1pl3ts @xoxo4chrisss @sweetstars-posts @conspiracy-ash @submattenthusiast @dominicfikeenthusiast @her-favorite @bambi-slxt @luverboychris @italiansunsetss @mattsluttywaist @strnzzvsp

[sssammich]

fic: if only today had been any other day

hello hello

this is inspired by @ekingston's flash fiction challenge! she was so right tho like i ended up making my wip list worse by adding this on there. but whatever it's off the wip list and now on the complete list, so!

ANYWAY here's what i spun:

genre: tragedy premise: in a fender bender trope: idiots to lovers subject: bandaids

word count: 1000

(LINK TO AO3)

pls enjoy thx love u bye

--

"Kara, there's something I want to tell you."

"Everything okay?"

"Yes. I think so."

"You think so?"

"It's a good thing. I hope."

"Lena, you're—ah, sorry, hang on a sec, I'm getting a call."

"Answer it."

"But—"

"It could be important."

"Lena…"

"It's okay. We have time."

She pushed the dilapidated convenience store door open. Relieved the shelves somehow hadn't been completely ransacked, she only took what she needed, the rest for anyone else who showed up after. She stopped by the makeshift pharmacy shelf, eyeing a first-aid kit that dangled on its broken handle. It couldn't hurt to retrieve it, benefiting from a few extra bandaids. The kit was soon buried under all the provisions she could stomach for the rest of her travels.

Finally she headed to the register, hoisted the basket onto the counter until she remembered.

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she knew it wouldn't do to dwell. She retrieved the basket and left.

—

"Come with me."

"Lena."

"Please. Please, Kara. Please."

"I'm sorry, Lena. But I can't leave, not until I know they can't get to you."

—

The accident would have been ruled as a simple fender bender. Unfortunate, yet unsurprising: trudging through slick rain, the car hydroplaning just to slide and crash against whatever was ahead. Incurred damage wouldn't have cost more than a small pittance in her coffers before the fender was fixed anew.

It would have been an ordinary thing.

Except nothing was the same and hadn't been for a long time.

—

"Breaking news: National City has been invaded by an aggressive alien race known as the Daxamites. Supergirl and Superman stand at the helm of the fight, backed by various military forces while officials evacuate as many of the citizens to safety."

—

Her hands shook from the adrenaline more than the impact, glancing at the stationary car in front of her.

She gripped the wheel as she focused on evening her breathing and calming her pulse.

Had anything else happened, the back of that car could have been the last thing she ever saw. Slamming the brakes and bracing for impact could have been the last thing she ever did. Regret wrapped so viciously around her mind, her heart, when she thought instead of what she wished she'd done, what she wished she'd said.

Before it had been too late.

Fat drops of tears fell in succession down her cheeks unable to stop the outpour of her emotions, of her grief, at the world that once was.

—

"You have to go, Lena. There's no time."

"Tell me she's okay."

"She's okay."

"Alex—"

"They have her, but she's alive. They have her and they'll use her to get to you. Please, just—go for now and once we figure out what's really going on, I'll find you."

"How?"

"Because you'll find me first and let me know where you are. Isn't that how this works?"

"…"

"…"

"I never got to tell her."

"Ten bucks says she already knows."

—

She arrived at the sanctuary early the next morning, just after dawn, her body exhausted from more than just the drive. She stood by the side of her car, glad to stretch out the ache in her limbs, her joints. Before her was an old church, stained glass windows bright against the rising sun.

She'd lost her faith somewhere along the way, somewhere around the time a flash of blonde, red, and blue dropped from the sky and failed to get back up again. Somewhere along the thousands of miles she'd traveled all over the country, making herself useful, making herself forget.

She hoisted the small basket of supplies and water from the backseat and took a forward step towards the large wooden doors. She paused when said doors creaked open and out came an empathetic face and a welcoming smile.

"Kelly, hi."

"You made it."

—

"Name?"

"Kieran Walsh."

"Where you coming from?"

"Metropolis."

"A long ways away."

"There's nothing left there."

"Where you headed?"

"North."

"…"

"…"

"Let her through. Safe driving out there, Kieran Walsh."

"Thanks."

—

Kelly gathered up her meager basket of offerings and placed them in the pantry before seating her at the large table with a cup of tea.

"Can I get you anything else?"

She shook her head, satisfied with simply taking a deep breath of the soothing tea and the warmth of a familiar face. Kelly placed a hand atop hers.

"Alex is coming back in a week. Last I heard."

Lena clasped Kelly's hand between hers, anchoring herself in case she dared to hope too much. Too soon. Too fast. "You think she…" afraid to finish.

"I hope so."

—

"I miss you."

—

The rumble of a vehicle startled her awake, having pulled up in front of the church. She rushed from her cot, but lingered by the door when Kelly greeted Alex with a tight hug. Alex pulled away and caught Lena's eye, tilting her head towards the backseat of the black tinted van.

She didn't move, not right away, not until Alex nudged her with a tap on her hand arm and, "You owe me ten bucks, Luthor."

—

"There's a sanctuary ten hours north of National City. Head there as soon as you can."

—

A trembling hand pulled the van door open and revealed a face she'd missed for nine grueling months. After the world had been turned upside down and she'd lost everything she'd ever known and loved while on the lam just to survive.

In the middle of it all was Kara who now sat with her arm in a sling and whose visage bore a long scar that sliced through the right side of her face, shutting her eye permanently. Still, the smile was there, directed at her.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"You wanted to tell me something?"

Lena laughed, despite the anguish and grief that had carved a cathedral inside of her, and simply wrapped her arms around her heart's greatest wish before she kissed Kara soundly on the mouth. A taste of homecoming.

[northsoulss]

jealousy - leah williamson

(a/n: haven’t written for myself in ages, so have this fun little fic about our fav english footie player😋)

scrolling on your phone, you had just finished your monthly routine of drinking with leah to celebrate the month ending. she had just gone to the bathroom, joking about how she was busting as she waddled her way there. when you heard a glass clink on the table, you looked up to see a gin tonic placed in front of you. “oh, i’m sorry i didn’t order this?” you push the drink away, confused.

“well that guy over there paid for it.” the bartender points to a greasy looking guy, a creepy grin on his face. you grimaced, the bartender sharing a similar look and shrugging before turning back to clean martini glasses.

just as you were about to take a sip of the drink, you felt a firm hand rest on the back of your neck, making you flinch. “you okay? i thought you said you were done for tonight?” you instantly relax knowing it’s leah, but she doesn’t take this as a good sign. you’re on edge, and when you are on edge, she’s on edge. leah looks at your drink, eyeing your surroundings to see if anyone paid for it.

“well i was, i just closed our tab. it’s from that guy.” leah looks in the direction you gestured to and immediately saw the man you were talking about. she looks back at you to see hesitance in your eyes, and she immediately saw red. in a fit of jealousy, she chugged down your drink, slamming it on the table.

“tell him i said thanks.” leah says sarcastically to the bartender, only getting a knowing nod in response. the man’s eyes widened seeing leah’s possessive grip onto your waist, her eyes staring holes at him. he left the bar moments after, leah’s tense hand not leaving your side. you look up to her to see her cleched jaw and furrowed eyebrows — you found her hot as hell in that moment.

“ready to go babe?” she looks down at you, the gentle smile on her face vastly different from how she reacted earlier. you smile dumbly at her, and she hoists you up from your seat, hands not leaving your side till you reached the car.

the car ride home was silent, leah’s hand squeezing your thighs through your dress. you glanced over to see her fist resting against her temple, anger displayed on her face. you only clenched your thighs tighter, only hoping she’d do something to you when you get back home.

instead of her slamming you into the wall and manhandling you as you hoped she would, she helps you take off your coat before going immediately to the bedroom. not a word was said to you after coming back from the bar which was incredibly unusual. not wanting to prod in case something else happened, you sighed and went to shower so that you can get your thoughts off the creep from the bar and leah’s sudden silence.

you knock on your bedroom door and step in, seeing leah standing on the balcony with her bathrobe wrapped around her. worry instantly fills you, thoughts racing and you join her, leaning against the railing. she makes no move to look at you, knuckles turning whiter and she grips her sleeves.

“leah, what’s wrong?” you say gently, your hand finding hers.

“i’m just upset over what happened at the bar..” she mumbles, her fingers now interlinking yours, warmth spreading through her cold fingers.

“what? why?” you couldn’t understand why she was upset over such a small matter — you were over it, and you’re probably not going to go back there for another month or so.

“what if someone roofied your drink? what if i didn’t come in time?” she finally looks at you, eyes wide with anxiety, ceases along the sides of her mouth deepening as you sigh.

“look, baby. nothing happened. you can’t control what other people do, yeah?” she’s now in your arms, face smushed into the crook of your neck. she hums and you feel your entire chest vibrate, your warmth slowly creeping over her cold skin.

“leah, i trust that you’ll be here for me, and you need trust that i can defend myself if things go south. is that okay?” she peeks at you, her frown gone, eyes now peering into yours intensely. she presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, and then one to your forehead.

“i love you.”

“love you.”

©️northsoulss 2024, all rights reserved.

[woncatz]

can you do jealous chaewon dragging reader into a room(and fucking her roughly) because reader was being way too flirty for her liking?

i couldn't find the right pictures but i had chaewon wearing the diesel tanktop in mind while writing this ;)

'steaming hot'

pairing/s : kim chaewon x fem!reader

tags : rough sex to soft sex (?), jealousy, oral and fingering (r!receiving), manhandling, mommy kink, clit rubbing, chaewon is really pissed and REALLY MEAN, lots of degradation with a little bit of praise, mild overstimulation, chaewon slaps you like once, short fluff at the end.

a/n : if it wasnt obvious; the end is rushed so don't go after me, also, this doesn't follow the request entirely, but the idea is there :)

18+ | minors dni

"one americano, and a latte, please and thank you." smiling at the barista across from you. glancing at her name tag before speaking once again.

"so faye, how long have you been working here?" you said while making direct eye contact.

"oh.. hm - a while now, i guess." the girl chuckles with red cheeks and continues to prepare your orders.

"what is a pretty girl like you doing here and working in a cafe? surely some companies out there would be interested working with a gal like you." it was obvious that you were shamelessly flirting with her, fully knowing that chaewon could hear the whole conversation. you glance at chaewon from the front of the café and sure enough, she was glaring daggers right at you and the girl.

"t-thank you, you're also very pretty." the barista momentarily stops her actions to look and smile at you, before she's starts working on it again. though she can't hide the blood rushing to her face by being complimented by someone as hot as you and chaewon did not like that at all.

"thank you darling." you spoke with a sultry voice guaranteed to seduce anyone who was in hearing range, before smirking at the sight of chaewon slowly losing her composure.

"chaewon? are you alright? you look a bit uneasy." faux innocence dripping from your tone knowing that your plan was working.

"i'm alright." and chaewon answers shortly.

"are you feeling sick? we can go home now if you want. i can drive for us."

all that chaewon does is roll her eyes and look out the window completely ignoring you.

"here's your drinks ma'am." the girl in front drives your attention off of chaewon. you smile at her and quickly reach down to your purse for your wallet.

"we'll get going, thanks." you didn't even realize that chaewon was already beside you and had already slammed the payment on the counter before getting the drinks and dragging you to the car.

"hey, why do you seem mad? what did i do wrong, hm?" your voice laced with fake innocence which pisses off chaewon even more, she hates it when you act like this, like a brat.

"you're fucking annoying. get in." she opens the car door for you. even when mad, chaewon is still a gentlewoman, and you really liked that.

and now you're inside, seating beside your lover who refuses to look at you. you feel guilty, almost. but this is what you wanted to happen. and so you let a small smile paint your lips.

not long after, the both of you arrive in front of your apartment complex. chaewon once again opens the car door, and you shuffle against the seat to step out but chaewon pulls you by your wrist and slams the door behind you, pressing a button on her car keys to lock it.

you wanted to speak, but you knew that what you had done was enough to fuel the fire inside chaewon, so you stay quiet. on the way to the elevator, chaewon doesn't wait for the elevator to close before latching her lips onto yours. the kiss was rough, but you didn't mind.

"someone could walk in." you moaned as she starts sucking on your neck. soon after, the first two buttons of your blouse has been undone, showing your cleavage to chaewon.

"fuck, this is what you wanted right? for me to get jealous so we could have sex? you're such a fucking whore." she gropes your crotch through your denim shorts resulting wetness to pool in your core. the elevator bell dings and the sign shows '3rd floor'. chaewon wastes no time and grasps your wrist, walking towards your room. it was a good thing that the building uses cards instead of keys because as soon as the door was open chaewon was already on her way to the bedroom still dragging you behind her.

"look at you, all we did was make out and you look like a fucking mess." she makes you sit on the edge of the bed before kneeling in between your legs.

"please.. please chaewon." you said.

"you think you have the right to beg after what you did?" quickly undoing the buttons of your shorts before pulling it down along with your underwear.

"you're so wet baby, you really wanted this to happen hm?"

"yes mommy," you moaned and closed your eyes as you felt chaewons fingertips meet with your slit, dragging it up and down before circling your entrance. you let your eyes close, even such a slight sensation sends electricity through your veins and the whine that came out your throat was uncontrollable.

"chae, need it, i need your tongue, please." your eyes shoot open soon when chaewons hand comes in contact with your face following the immediate burn and sting from the impact. you felt tears brim in the corner of your eyes as chaewon grabs your chin roughly to make you look down at her. her face was painted with what you couldn't comprehend as disgust or condescension.

"you whore, even after doing all that- you have the fucking guts to tell me what to do." you've certainly never seen this side of chaewon, witnessing her down on her knees yet still emitting such a dominant aura turns you on even more.

"chaewon i- ahh!-" your sentence was cut short as a moan escaped your throat from chaewon diving into your cunt, she was licking and slurping and sucking your sensitive clit. what she had done definitely caught you off guard as you find your back meeting the mattress below you.

"agh- chaewon, slow down-" moans and whines filled your shared bedroom as chaewon shoved her tongue deep inside you before dragging it up to your clit and flattening against it.

"slow down? isn't this what you wanted, baby?" her voice was muffled by your pussy as she continued eating you out like she'd not eaten for days, latching and sucking on your clit and giving it kitten licks. a knot in your stomach has been forming and was threatening to snap at any moment.

"f-fuck! im close... don't stop, don't stop!" nearly shouting as chaewon shakes her head and gives your clit one last lick.

"that's it pretty girl," she replaces her tongue with her fingers, shoving it inside and pumping them in and out at a fast pace. she curls her fingers simultaneously as she stands up from her knees to reach and face you from your current position on the bed.

"you gonna cum? gonna cum for mommy? hah... your cunt is sucking my fingers, baby, i can barely move them." she was obviously mocking you, the sight of your disheveled hair and sweaty body drove her insane and a familiar overwhelming sensation started to build up on your lower stomach fast.

"cum for me, show me that you can be a good girl. cum for me baby." and all it took was a drag of her fingers and her thumb rubbing your clit to push you over the edge.

"cumming!- 'm cummin-" your hips stuttering and rising from the bed with your eyes squeezing shut as you squirted all over chaewons fingers and she lets you ride your orgasm out before you grab her wrist and urge her to pull them out.

"you okay?" she hugs your limp body before kissing your cheekbone, trailing down to your neck. the sudden shift of her mood causing heat to rise to your cheeks.

"mhm... i'm okay." silence fills the room as chaewon rests her head on the crook of your neck.

"i've got to make you jealous more often." and she just laughed.

[goblin-jr]

Tell me, where’s your hiding place?

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader

Summary: Clark Kent braces himself for another forgettable assignment, expecting nothing more than a routine interview. But when he comes face to face with a ghost from his past, he knows he’s in for trouble.

part 1 . part 2 . part 3 . part 4 . part 5

complete

words: 7.2 k

💌 💌 💌 💌

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, the floor numbers ticking higher with every passing second. Clark Kent exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his tie, tugging it loose before tightening it again. He caught his reflection in the mirrored wall—neat, composed, and entirely unbothered. Or at least, that was the goal.

In reality, he was still shaking off the last twenty minutes.

He had barely been two blocks from the Daily Planet when he’d heard it—a sharp, metallic screech followed by the unmistakable blare of a car horn. His head had snapped up just in time to see the taxi slam through the guardrail of the Metropolis Monorail overpass, its front end teetering over the tracks, headlights flickering against the rain-slick steel.

The driver had been unconscious. The passenger, a woman clutching a toddler to her chest, was very much awake, pounding on the back window as the weight of the vehicle threatened to drag them both down.

Clark had moved before he could think. A blur of motion between heartbeats. One second, he was stepping off the curb, and the next, he was beneath the car, hands braced against its undercarriage. He could feel the groan of the metal, the way the rain made everything slick beneath his grip, but the moment his strength took over, physics became an afterthought.

The woman’s wide-eyed shock barely registered as he tore the back door off its hinges, scooping her and the child into his arms before setting them safely on the pavement. The whole thing had taken maybe thirty seconds—long enough for bystanders to gape, for phones to rise, for someone to murmur the word Superman before he was already gone, vanishing into an alley before the inevitable swarm of reporters could descend.

And now, here he was, standing in a penthouse elevator, smoothing down his tie, pretending like none of it had happened.

His hair, still slightly damp from the drizzle outside, was combed back, but a stray curl had already begun to rebel against the order he’d forced upon it. His tie, a respectable shade of blue, sat a little too stiffly against his collar, a reminder of how quickly he’d thrown it back on. And then there were his shoes. He frowned slightly as he caught sight of the faint scuff marks marring the polished leather. If his interviewee was the observant type, they might notice.

Not that it mattered.

This wasn’t a real story. It was a fluff piece—some last-minute assignment Perry had thrown at him because the usual reporter was out sick. Some musician, Y/N something. He hadn’t even skimmed the file beyond the basics.

The elevator slowed. A soft chime rang out as the doors slid open.

Clark exhaled and stepped forward.

Half an hour. That’s all this would take. Ask the questions, get the quotes, and be done with it.

How hard could it be?

The elevator doors slid open with a smooth, soundless motion, revealing the entrance to the penthouse. Clark stepped forward, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet runner that stretched down the hallway. Immediately, he was struck by the sheer extravagance of it all.

Marble. So much marble.

The floors gleamed under the soft glow of recessed lighting, the white-and-gray veining swirling in elaborate patterns. The walls, too, were lined with marble panels, broken up only by large, modern art pieces that looked more like expensive smudges of paint than anything with real meaning. Gold accents caught the light at every turn—door handles, lighting fixtures, the trim of an absurdly oversized mirror mounted at the far end of the hall. It was cold. Impersonal. The kind of wealth that demanded admiration but offered no warmth in return.

Clark resisted the urge to adjust his glasses. He’d been in places like this before—interviews with CEOs, gala events, the occasional press function where billionaires pretended to be relatable over champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres. But standing here, surrounded by so much artificial shine, he couldn’t help but think of the Kent farmhouse back in Smallville.

His mother’s worn wooden floors, the way they creaked underfoot no matter how many times she insisted they weren’t old, just well-loved. The chipped paint on the banister, the scent of warm earth drifting in through open windows on summer nights. Even the old oak table, scratched and scarred from years of family meals, had more character than this entire building combined.

Clark much preferred wood over marble.

Still, he had a job to do.

He stopped in front of the penthouse door, glancing at the polished brass number plate. The weight of the assignment settled in again—just a quick interview, a handful of quotes, and he’d be out of here. Simple.

Lifting his hand, he rapped his knuckles against the door. The sound echoed faintly down the hall.

For a moment, nothing.

Then, the click of a lock turning.

The door swung open.

Clark was already prepared with his introduction, but the words stalled for half a second as he took in the woman standing before him.

She was young—probably the same age as him—with sharp, intelligent eyes and a presence that felt effortless, like she belonged in places like this. There was something familiar about her, but not in a way he could immediately place. Maybe it was the shape of her eyes, the way she held herself, or just the faintest pull of recognition in the back of his mind, like he saw her on a billboard somewhere.

She blinked at him, clearly thrown off. “Oh. I was expecting Sasha.”

Clark cleared his throat, recovering quickly. “Sasha’s out sick. Perry White sent me instead. Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

She hesitated for only a second before smiling, holding the door open wider. “Well, come on in, then.”

Clark stepped inside, the warm glow of the penthouse wrapping around him as the door shut behind him.

Y/N stepped back from the door, letting Clark into the apartment. He walked in, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag as his eyes swept the space. The penthouse was as extravagant as he expected—floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the open-concept living area in golden light, offering a panoramic view of the Metropolis skyline. The furniture was sleek and modern, everything arranged with careful precision. It was the kind of place designed to impress.

“This is quite the place,” Clark commented as they walked further inside.

Y/N glanced at him, an easy smile on her lips. “Yeah, it has its perks.”

She moved ahead of him, leading the way down the short hallway that opened into the living room. A plush ivory couch stretched along the center of the space, positioned in front of a low glass coffee table. Built-in shelves lined the walls, holding a mix of framed awards, books, and decorative pieces that looked like they had been placed there by an interior designer.

Clark took it all in as they walked. “Been here long?”

“A few years.” Y/N motioned toward the couch. “Go ahead, make yourself comfortable.”

Clark gave a polite nod before setting his bag down beside the armrest and easing onto the couch. It was softer than expected, and for a second, he sat a little too stiffly, still adjusting to the unfamiliar setting.

Y/N lingered near the kitchen, glancing toward him. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

She nodded and gestured toward the seating area. “I’ll be right there. Just make yourself at home.”

With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Clark alone in the living room. He glanced around again, his gaze settling on the details that filled the space. It was modern, polished, expensive—but something about it felt untouched, like it was meant to be lived in but wasn’t.

His eyes drifted to the oversized fireplace and stopped just beside it. Hung on the wall, standing out against the sleek decor, was a battered silver guitar.

Clark stilled.

Something about it nagged at him, an itch in the back of his mind that refused to be ignored. The rest of the apartment was curated to perfection—everything in its place, designed to impress. But this guitar didn’t belong to the aesthetic. It wasn’t some decorative piece picked out by an interior designer. It was worn, real, lived in. The wood was faded in places, the silver finish dulled by years of touch. The edges were scuffed, the pickguard scratched, the strings looked fresh, meaning they had been replaced more times than he could count.

And yet, it wasn’t just its condition that held him in place. It was something else—something deeper.

Clark leaned closer, his breath slow and steady as his eyes traced over every familiar detail. His gaze snagged on a tiny bird decal on the body of the guitar, its edges peeling slightly with age.

His stomach dropped.

Oh.

The memory crashed into him like a tidal wave. The silver guitar, the hands that had played it, the voice that had carried through the dim light of an apartment he hadn’t thought about in years. The name attached to all of it—Y/N.

How had he missed this?

Clark was a journalist. He prided himself on details, on never overlooking the obvious. Yet here he was, standing in the middle of her living room, blindsided by the realization that this wasn’t just some pop star.

It's her.

Before he could think much more about it, Y/N’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Alright, Mr. reporter. Let’s get this over with.”

Clark straightened slightly as she reentered, glass of water in hand, and set it down in front of him.

Gaining control of his expression, Clark snapped his gaze to hers as she settled into the chair across from him. This really is her.

The realization still sat heavy in his chest, but he refused to let it show. He didn’t know if he should feel proud that she had made it—really made it—or guilty that he had never once thought to check in on her after he left. Seven years, and not once had he tried to find out what happened to the girl with the silver guitar and the fire in her voice. Now, she sat in front of him, a household name, a polished version of the same person he had once known.

She looked different. Older, sure, but there was something else—something lighter. She looked happier.

He cleared his throat and reached into his bag, pulling out a small recording device. The soft click of the power button filled the quiet space as he placed it on the coffee table between them. Business. That’s what this was. He needed to focus.

Clark glanced at his notepad. “Alright,” he said, voice steady, professional. “Let’s start with the album. This will be your first release in two years. What inspired it?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, considering. “Time,” she answered finally. “I needed time away from it all. Music never stopped being important, but I had to figure out who I was when I wasn’t writing for a deadline. I think this album is the closest thing to me that I’ve ever put out.”

Clark nodded, jotting down notes as she spoke. “Did you feel any pressure coming back after so long?”

She tilted her head slightly. “At first. People love to ask if you’re washed up the second you take a step back. But the truth is, I wasn’t interested in coming back just to prove a point. I wanted to wait until I had something to say.”

Clark tapped his pen against the pad. “And what is it you’re trying to say with this album?”

Y/N’s lips twitched, almost amused. “That would be giving too much away, wouldn’t it?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Fair enough.”

They moved through the next few questions with ease, Y/N answering smoothly, clearly used to this sort of thing. The creative process, favorite tracks, collaborations—Clark kept his focus steady, writing efficiently, keeping his mind from slipping into dangerous territory. But despite his efforts, his eyes kept drifting over her shoulder, drawn back to the guitar mounted behind her.

The silver finish, the well-worn edges, the tiny bird decal near the strings.

The guitar.

His grip tightened on his pen. He hadn’t realized he had been looking at it so often until Y/N followed his gaze, glancing back at the instrument. A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips before she turned her attention back to him.

“You probably thought I wouldn’t have it anymore, huh?”

Clark went still.

His entire body locked up for half a second, but he forced himself not to react. His heart hammered against his ribs, though his expression remained neutral.

Does she recognize me?

No. That was impossible. It had been years. His glasses, his posture, the way he carried himself—Clark Kent wasn’t Kal. He had spent his whole life perfecting that distinction. If she did recognize him, that would mean she knew what he was. That Clark Kent wasn’t all human. That the quiet, mild-mannered reporter sitting in front of her was the same reckless, smirking enigma who had once pulled her out of an alley and into his world.

She couldn’t know.

Before he could decide how to respond, Y/N continued, her voice casual, but with unmistakable mischief. “I didn’t take you for a fan, Mr. Kent.” She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand, the corner of her mouth quirking upward. “Only the hardcore ones know the guitar I recorded my first album on.”

Clark exhaled slowly, just enough to release the tension in his chest. She didn’t know. She wasn’t looking at him like she recognized him—just a reporter showing more interest in an instrument than she expected.

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “I do my research.”

Y/N gave him a knowing look, her smirk widening into a full-on grin. “I’ll sign something for you after, but right now we need to finish the interview, yeah?”

Clark felt the tips of his ears heat up but quickly brushed it off, letting out a small chuckle as he flipped to the next page in his notebook.

“Oh my God,” Y/N snickered, watching him carefully. “You are a fan.”

“I’m not—”

“You totally are.”

Clark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before returning to his notes. “Let’s move on.”

Y/N let out a dramatic sigh but gestured for him to continue.

Scanning the remaining questions he realized he had everything he needed—probably more than he expected to get. Still, he asked a few final ones, keeping his tone measured, professional. Y/N answered just as smoothly, leaning back into the couch, arms draped over the arms of the couch like this was just another routine press stop.

“So, what’s next after the album drops?” he asked, capping his pen.

“Tour,” Y/N said easily. “Larger venues this time, I like the small, intimate ones but my team insisted”

Clark nodded. “Sounds like a full schedule.”

“It will be.” She stretched, arching her back dramatically before standing. “But I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t want to.”

Clark closed his notebook and stood as well, slipping it into his bag. “Well,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “I think that covers everything.”

Y/N grinned, hands on her hips. “You sure? This is your last chance to ask the really scandalous questions. My favorite color? My go-to breakfast order? My villain origin story?”

Clark huffed a small laugh. “I think I put you through enough.”

“Eh,” she shrugged, heading toward the door. “You’ve had worse interview subjects, I’m sure.”

He followed, his steps even as she pulled the door open and leaned casually against it. The interview was over, but there was still an odd weight in his chest—one he wasn’t ready to name.

Y/N crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “I’m excited to read the draft.”

Clark gave a polite nod, offering a small, unreadable smile. “I’ll make sure you get it.”

“Good,” she said, smirking. “And don’t forget—I still owe you an autograph.”

Clark shook his head, amused despite himself, before stepping past the threshold. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Looking back at the door, Clark stilled as he caught Y/N staring.

She hadn’t moved yet, still leaning against the frame, but something in her expression had shifted. Her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowed in quiet contemplation, like she was trying to place something just out of reach.

A flicker of recognition. A question forming before she even voiced it.

Then, she opened her mouth.

“Have we met before?”

Clark felt his entire body tense, a split-second rush of panic surging through his veins.

Her voice wasn’t teasing this time. There was no playfulness in it, no smirk. Just quiet curiosity, a thread of certainty in the way she said it.

Clark forced his shoulders to stay relaxed, his fingers curling slightly at his sides. He could feel her gaze pressing into him, waiting, searching.

His pulse roared in his ears.

“I don’t think so,” he said, his voice even, carefully detached—a weak attempt at deflection.

A beat of silence.

Then, just as quickly as the moment had come, her face shifted back into an easy smile.

“Yeah,” she said lightly, brushing it off. “I think you’re right. I would’ve remembered meeting my biggest fan”

She pulled the door open just a little wider.

“Goodbye, Clark.”

Clark swallowed, nodding once before turning down the hall.

–

It had been weeks since the interview, and Y/N hadn’t stopped thinking about Clark Kent.

It was ridiculous, really. She had given a hundred interviews in her career. Some routine, some personal, some tedious, and some even fun. Clark’s had been professional, straightforward. Nothing about it should have lingered in her mind the way it did.

But something about him nagged at her.

It wasn’t attraction, though she could admit—if only to herself—that he was handsome in a quietly unassuming way. No, it was something else. Something about his presence. The way he had held himself, the way he had studied her, the way he had deflected, just slightly, when she asked if they had met before.

The thing was, Clark reminded her of someone else.

Kal.

The boy who had plucked her out of a dark alley and tossed her into his strange world, the one who had been both reckless and careful, cocky yet distant. The one who had let her in just enough to make her wonder.

Y/N frowned, shifting in her seat as the town car moved through the streets of Metropolis. It was preposterous, really. Clark Kent was a journalist—a calm, mild-mannered, by-the-books kind of guy. He had sat across from her with a steady, unshakable presence, pen in hand, carefully gathering her words like a collector cataloging artifacts.

Kal had been wild. Sharp-edged. Untamed.

And yet…

Y/N sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. You’re being ridiculous.

The problem was, she could barely recall the specifics of Kal’s face anymore. It had been a hard time in her life, and memories had a way of shifting in the years that followed. She remembered the feeling of him more than anything—the electric unpredictability, the way he had existed in the world like he was always somewhere else in his mind. She remembered the smirks, the sharp wit, the way he had looked at her when she played her guitar, like she was giving him something he didn’t know he needed.

But the details? The timbre of his voice, the exact shade of his eyes?

They were a blur.

It wasn’t like she had a photograph to remember him by.

Still, something gnawed at her. Clark Kent reminds me of Kal.

The idea was absurd, and yet, it had planted itself in her brain, refusing to be dismissed completely.

She let out a slow breath, watching as the familiar streets of Metropolis passed by. Streetlights flickered against the car window, smearing golden streaks across the glass. The hum of the city at night was something she had grown used to, but right now, it barely registered.

She needed to stop thinking about this. It didn’t matter. Kal was long gone. Clark Kent was a journalist who had done his job and moved on. There was no reason for her to still be thinking about him.

And yet—

Her gaze flickered outside, and her breath caught.

The car was passing the Daily Planet.

The illuminated logo shone high above the building, bold and unwavering, a beacon in the city skyline. The sight of it sent a jolt through her, instinctive and irrational.

Y/N hesitated.

And then, before she could think better of it, she leaned forward.

“Stop the car.”

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Miss?”

“Stop the car, please” she repeated, already reaching for the door handle.

Grabbing a random T-shirt from the pile she had been signing, Y/N pulled it along without checking what it was. She barely hesitated before opening the car door and stepping onto the bustling sidewalk outside the Daily Planet.

This was impulsive.

Even for her.

Stepping into the lobby of the Daily Planet, she registered the way conversation screeched to a halt. People turned—some subtly, some not so subtly—as they took in the sight of her, standing there like she walked into national newspapers all the time.

She didn’t let it faze her.

Instead, she walked straight up to the front desk, her usual bright, easygoing smile already in place.

“Hi!” she greeted warmly, leaning slightly onto the counter. “I’m here to see Clark Kent. Is he in?”

The receptionist blinked up at her. Mouth opening. Then closing. Then opening again.

Y/N waited, tilting her head slightly.

The woman visibly gathered herself, then reached for the phone. “One second, Miss—um—”

“Y/N,” she supplied helpfully, still smiling. “But you probably knew that.”

The receptionist let out a soft, slightly dazed laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

As she made the call, Y/N rocked back on her heels, glancing around. The Daily Planet was a lot grander than she’d expected, with its sleek architecture and giant windows that let sunlight spill across the lobby floor. She imagined Clark working here—sitting at a desk, pushing up those glasses of his while he scribbled in that little notepad.

It suited him.

The receptionist set the phone down. “Someone will be here in a second.”

“Awesome, thank you!” Y/N said brightly.

A minute later, a young intern appeared—wide-eyed and visibly trying to keep it together.

“Miss Y/N, uh—I—I can take you to Clark Kent,” he stammered, standing a little too straight, as if afraid his knees might buckle under him.

Y/N softened, offering a gentle smile. “That’d be great. What’s your name?”

The intern blinked, like he couldn’t believe she was actually asking. “Uh—Elliot?”

“Well, Elliot,” Y/N said as they walked toward the elevator, “it’s nice to meet you.”

Elliot made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a gasp.

She continued, hoping to put him at ease. “How long have you been here?”

“A f-few months,” he stammered.

“Enjoying it so far?”

He nodded violently, like if he spoke, he might combust on the spot.

Y/N bit back a laugh. The kid was adorable.

As the elevator doors dinged open, she gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Well, I bet you’re doing great.”

The moment they stepped out, Elliot practically sprinted away, disappearing into the crowd of desks like his life depended on it.

And that’s when she spotted him.

Clark Kent, sitting at the farthest side of the newsroom, completely engrossed in whatever he was reading. Glasses sliding slightly down his nose, brow furrowed in concentration.

Oblivious.

A wicked grin spread across Y/N’s face.

“CLARK!!! I GOT THE T-SHIRT YOU ASKED FOR!!”

The newsroom came to a screeching halt.

Reporters stopped mid-sentence. Phones continued ringing, unanswered. Someone dropped a stapler. Perry White’s office door swung open slightly as if the sheer force of Y/N’s volume had rattled it loose.

Clark Kent’s entire body stiffened.

He looked up so slowly it was almost painful, his eyes wide with horror.

Y/N beamed, holding up the atrocious neon pink T-shirt she had grabbed at random—which had her own face on it.

Clark blinked. Once. Twice.

One of his coworkers visibly choked.

Y/N waved the T-shirt again, just in case he hadn’t fully absorbed the majesty of the situation.

“IT’S EVEN SIGNED!!” she added gleefully.

Clark inhaled deeply. Closed his eyes for one agonizing second. Then, very carefully, he put his paper down.

“…Miss Y/N,” he said, voice painfully measured. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Y/N skipped over, gently placing the T-shirt onto his desk like a gift. “I came to see the draft! It’s been a while, so I thought I’d stop by”

Y/N made herself very comfortable at Clark’s desk, leaning back in the chair like she worked there, completely ignoring the fact that the entire newsroom was still staring.

Clark could feel it—the weight of dozens of eyes on him, the absolute shock and confusion radiating from his coworkers. He had handled high-profile investigations, corrupt politicians, and last-minute front-page rewrites, but this?

This was a nightmare.

Slowly, he looked down at the pink T-shirt now sitting on his desk.He flipped it over, inspecting the size tag, and exhaled sharply through his nose.

“A women’s extra small?” he deadpanned.

Y/N glanced down at the shirt like she was seeing it for the first time. She blinked. Tilted her head. Then, with zero hesitation, she looked back at him and grinned.

“Well, you’re not my usual demographic, you know,” she said lightly. “But I had to for my biggest fan.”

A choked wheeze came from the far corner of the newsroom.

Clark didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Lois Lane.

His award-winning colleague. His sometimes friend, sometimes menace.

Clark turned his head just enough to confirm his worst fears.

There she was. Leaning against her desk, arms crossed, eyes glinting like she had just won the lottery. Her grin was catastrophic. Clark could feel the gears turning in her head. He had worked with Lois for years. He knew her better than most people. Which meant he knew exactly what was about to happen. She was going to milk this for all it was worth. Clark could already hear the insufferable teasing. The jokes. The headlines she’d make up on the spot. The fact that this would never die, that she would bring it up for the rest of time.

No.

Absolutely not.

Before she could get a word in, before this entire situation spiraled into an irreversible nightmare, Clark abruptly stood.

“Meeting room,” he announced.

Y/N blinked. “Huh?”

Clark grabbed a report off his desk and marched past her. “If you want to see the draft, we’re discussing it somewhere private.”

Y/N, clearly entertained, hopped up and followed him. “Oooo, very professional.”

Clark ignored her. He ignored the stares, ignored the smug delight radiating off Lois, ignored the way half the newsroom was already whispering.

This was damage control.

And the sooner he got Y/N out of the newsroom, the better.

—

Y/N sat down, her fingers lightly tapping against the cool glass table, her gaze flickering around the pristine meeting room.

“Fancy,” she murmured, raising an eyebrow at the walls of glass surrounding them. “Makes me feel like I’m about to be interrogated.”

She glanced up at Clark, who sat across from her with his usual composed, professional air. He slid the printed draft across the table toward her.

"You wanted to see it,” he said, his voice even, unreadable. “So, here it is.”

Y/N took the pages, flipping the first one dramatically between her fingers before settling into her seat.

Clark watched her closely, pretending to be relaxed, pretending this was just another routine part of his job. But inside, his thoughts were rapid-fire chaos.

She’s just reading the article. She won’t recognize you. She has no reason to.

Y/N, oblivious to his internal spiral, started reading. Her lips pressed together, brows furrowing in concentration. Then—

“Oh, wow,” she muttered, glancing up at him. “This makes me sound so pretentious.”

Clark exhaled sharply through his nose, already tired. “Y/N, that’s a direct quote.”

She gasped, clutching her chest like he had just personally insulted her. “You’re telling me I sound pretentious naturally?”

Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m telling you that you said—” He leaned forward, reading straight from the page, “‘Art is only as good as the truth behind it. Without vulnerability, creativity is nothing but empty sound.’”

Y/N blinked. Then she snorted. “Yeah, okay, I did say that. That’s on me.”

Clark just nodded, resigned to his fate.

She continued reading, flipping through the pages at a leisurely pace, pausing only to make random commentary.

“Oh, I like this part.”

“Good.”

“Actually, you could’ve made me sound a little cooler here.”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “I refuse to fabricate quotes.”

“Boring,” she muttered.

Another pause.

“Oof.”

Clark glanced up. “What?”

“This part.” She pointed at a paragraph. “The way you wrote this makes me sound so deep.”

He crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Are you saying you aren’t?”

Y/N smirked. “Oh, I absolutely am. I just didn’t expect you to capture it so well.”

Clark shook his head, letting out a quiet, amused exhale despite himself.

She was infuriating. But at the same time…

She made this easier.

As long as she was joking, as long as she was comfortable, she wasn’t suspicious.

And Clark?

He needed her not to be suspicious.

As Y/N flipped through the pages, making little comments, Clark tried his best to sit still, to act natural. But his thoughts wouldn’t settle.

The girl he had met all those years ago had been quiet. Thoughtful. She had carried herself with a kind of deliberate caution, as if she was still learning how much space she was allowed to take up in the world. Back then, every word she had spoken had felt measured, intentional. There had been something raw about her, something unguarded—like she was still in the process of figuring herself out.

This woman in front of him was something else entirely.

She was louder now. Bolder. She moved through the world like she belonged in every room she entered. Her energy was effortless, commanding, like she had not only learned how much space she was allowed to take up, but had decided it wasn’t enough and demanded more.

She was chaotic, teasing, almost cocky in the way she tossed words around so easily. Like she knew exactly what kind of reaction she was going to get before she even said anything.

Clark had not been prepared for that.

And, honestly?

He had barely survived the last hour.

Y/N laughed at one of her own comments, shaking her head as she flipped another page. Clark forced himself to keep his expression neutral, even as a single, crushing thought ran through his mind.

Never again.

Never again would he be in this situation.

Because the second she walked out of this meeting room, she would go back to her world, and he would stay in his. This was a one-time thing, a bizarre collision of past and present that would never happen again.

And thank God for that.

Because sitting across from her, pretending to be a stranger, pretending that he hadn’t once known her as someone else—

It was exhausting.

And then, just when he thought he had her figured out—

Y/N set the draft down, exhaling softly. When she looked at him, all the playfulness from before had faded.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said, voice quiet now. “You got me very well.”

Clark blinked.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

The sincerity in her voice caught him off guard. Clark hesitated, gripping his pen just a little tighter. Then, finally, he nodded. “I just wrote what I heard.”

Y/N studied him for a second, then tilted her head slightly. “Still. I read some of your other work. I know this isn’t what you usually do.”

Clark exhaled slowly. “No, it’s not.”

She smiled, small and knowing. “Maybe next time, you can sign something for me.”

Clark blinked. That—he hadn’t expected that.

Then, finally, he let out a quiet, almost relieved laugh. “I’ll think about it.”

Y/N grinned, standing up, gathering the pages as she made her way toward the door. Clark followed, holding it open for her, already mentally preparing to never deal with this again.

But as she stepped out, Y/N turned slightly, giving him one last look. And for just a second—barely even a second— Clark swore she looked like she was still thinking about something. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Then she flashed him one last playful smile, and the moment was gone.

Clark exhaled, watching the door swing shut behind her. And for the first time in weeks, he finally let himself think: It’s over.

—

Y/N exhaled, rolling her shoulders as the final note of the song faded into the quiet hum of the recording booth. She pulled the headphones off, running a hand through her hair as she stepped away from the mic.

Through the glass, she could see her producer giving her a thumbs-up, the rest of the team murmuring to each other while adjusting sound levels. It was late, and the session had stretched longer than planned. Her voice was tired, but she knew they got what they needed.

She should’ve felt good about it.

But as she pushed open the heavy soundproof door, stepping back into the main studio, the feeling didn’t come.

She loved music. She always had. But sometimes, being in a room full of people—even people she trusted—felt lonely. Like she was here, but not really part of anything.

Before she could dwell on it, her manager, Sam, approached, a knowing look already on her face.

Uh-oh.

“I don’t like that expression,” Y/N said immediately, swiping a water bottle off the console.

Sam smirked. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“I know that look.” She unscrewed the cap, taking a sip before narrowing her eyes. “That’s the ‘I’m about to make you do something you don’t want to do’ look.”

A few of the producers chuckled. Sam didn’t deny it.

“Okay, hear me out,” she started. “The label wants to do a documentary.”

Y/N froze mid-sip. Then, very slowly, she swallowed, recapped the bottle, and set it down.

“No.”

Sam sighed. “Y/N—”

“Nope.” She turned to leave, fully prepared to escape the conversation entirely, but Sam grabbed her wrist, expecting the reaction.

“Okay, at least pretend to consider it before storming out,” Sam said, amused.

Y/N turned back, crossing her arms. “I don’t like cameras in my face all the time. That sounds miserable.”

“I get it,” Sam said. “But this would be different. Not a reality show, not a tour diary— a real documentary. Fans want to see more of you. The real you.”

Y/N scoffed. “The real me? You mean the one who eats cereal straight out of the box at 3 a.m. and impulse-buys weird lamps online?”

Sam ignored that. “Look, the label thinks this is important. Your music means a lot to people, but they don’t really know you. This would be a chance to show them something deeper.”

Y/N pursed her lips, already feeling cornered. “I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

“I know that. But you could control this,” Sam said, voice gentler now. “If you agree, you get full creative control. You decide what gets shown. What gets cut. The whole thing would be yours.”

That gave her pause.

“Full?” she repeated.

Sam nodded. “Full.”

Y/N glanced at the floor, shifting on her heels. That changed things. She hated the idea of being put under a microscope, but if she had control… maybe she could shape the narrative on her own terms.

And then, an idea clicked.

Slowly, she looked up, her mind already made up before she even spoke.

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “I’ll do it.”

Sam blinked, startled by how quickly she agreed. “You will?”

“Yes.” She lifted a finger. “But—there’s a condition.”

Sam exhaled, already bracing herself. “Of course there is.”

Y/N grinned. “I want Clark Kent to be the lead journalist.”

Sam blinked. Then blinked again.

“…Clark Kent?”

“Yep.”

“As in The Daily Planet’s Clark Kent?”

“The one and only.”

Sam stared at her like she had grown a second head. “Y/N, I… that’s not his thing. He doesn’t do celebrity interviews. He writes about corruption and crime.”

“Exactly,” Y/N said, unbothered. “I don’t want an entertainment reporter. I want someone who actually listens.”

Sam still looked bewildered. “I—okay, why Clark Kent?”

Y/N hesitated.

Because he was normal with me.

Because he was nice.

Because he reminds me of the first friend I ever had. 

She didn’t know how to explain it. She had people in her life—team members, industry friends, producers—but no one outside of it. No one who wasn’t tangled up in the fame, the business, the expectations.

Clark wasn’t impressed by her status. He had treated her like a person. And after so many years of feeling like a product, that had been… nice.

Maybe she could be friends with him.

Maybe she wanted to be.

She shrugged, playing it off. “I just think he’d be good at it.”

Sam sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is the weirdest request you’ve ever made.”

“Not true.”

Sam gave her a look. “You once demanded only blue M&Ms backstage.”

“That was one time, and I was testing if anyone actually read the rider.”

Sam shook her head. “Okay, whatever, we’ll reach out to him. No promises, though.”

Y/N smirked. “Oh, he’ll say yes.”

Sam narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?”

Y/N stretched, grabbing her water bottle again. “Because he won’t be able to resist a highly interesting investigative project.”

Sam snorted. “Right. That’s definitely why.”

Y/N ignored her, taking a sip. “Plus, I think Perry White is a secret fan. Some account named Perry_NotWhite has been liking all my instagram pics the second they come out for months”

Sam choked on her drink. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I am. And the best part? He leaves comments like ‘real music’ and ‘finally, some talent’ under my posts.”

Sam covered her face. “Oh my God, at least you get your wish.”

—

Clark Kent sat at his desk, typing up notes for a story when he heard it.

The sound that never led to anything good.

“Kent! My office. Now.”

Clark groaned internally. Not again.

Keeping his expression neutral, he saved his work, straightened his tie, and headed toward Perry’s office. He could already tell, whatever this was, he wasn’t going to like it.

Perry didn’t even glance up as Clark stepped inside, instead tossing a thick folder onto the desk.

“You’re covering a new assignment,” Perry said gruffly.

Clark frowned. Red flag. Perry wasn’t looking at him directly, and that never meant anything good.

Cautiously, Clark picked up the folder and flipped it open.

The words at the top made his stomach drop.

Y/N – Documentary Proposal

Clark froze.

No.

No, absolutely not.

“Perry,” Clark started, already shaking his head. “No.”

“Yes,” Perry said, not even entertaining an argument.

Clark set the file down like it was radioactive. “I already did one story on her. That was more than enough.”

Perry scoffed. “Yeah, well, she specifically requested you.”

Clark’s eye twitched. “She what?”

“You heard me,” Perry said, leaning back in his chair. “Label’s doing a documentary. She has full creative control. She picked you to be the lead journalist.”

Clark stared.

His brain short-circuited for a full three seconds before he managed, “…Why?”

“How the hell should I know?” Perry huffed. “Maybe she likes you. Maybe she thinks you’re good at your job. Maybe she just wants to see you suffer.”

Clark was strongly leaning toward that last option.

Perry sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, Kent, this is a big deal. Exclusive access, behind-the-scenes, high-profile stuff. The kind of thing that would bring in serious readership.”

Clark folded his arms. “I cover real news. This isn’t—”

“This is real news,” Perry cut in. “A story about one of the most influential artists of our time, written by one of my best reporters? I can already hear the Pulitzer people whispering.”

Clark deadpanned. “I can assure you, they’re not.”

Perry ignored him. “Listen, Kent. It’s a few months of work. A couple interviews. A few trips. You do your job, write a damn good story, and then you never have to see her again.”

Clark exhaled slowly.

A few months.

A few months of being around her.

Of hoping she never really looks at him. Never puts the pieces together.

Clark glanced back down at the file. Y/N.

She had been chaos incarnate the last time they saw each other. She had bullied him in front of his entire newsroom. She had grinned as his dignity died a slow, painful death.

And now, she wanted him to work with her for months?

Absolutely not.

Clark closed the file.

“I’m not doing it.”

Perry laughed.

Not a ha-ha funny laugh. A that’s adorable that you think you have a choice laugh.

“Oh, yes, you are.”

Clark gritted his teeth. “Perry—”

“Let me put it this way, Kent,” Perry interrupted, voice dry. “You can either spend the next few months interviewing one of the biggest stars on the planet, or you can spend them covering every city hall budget meeting in a fifty-mile radius.”

Clark stared.

Perry smirked.

“…That’s evil,” Clark muttered.

“Thank you,” Perry said, completely unbothered.

Clark sighed deeply, dragging a hand down his face. He could feel the last of his resistance evaporating.

This was happening.

Y/N was going to be in his life again.

And this time?

He wasn’t sure he was going to survive it.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After All This Time

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Car trouble puts you and your boss in an awkward position, especially when you two have so much history together.

Squares Filled: car trouble (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

It’s a straight shot from your house to your job. Instead of taking the main roads and confronting traffic, you take the back roads which takes an extra ten minutes, but you make up for that with your speed. The windows are down, your hair is blowing in the wind, and your music is on full blast. You pass the halfway point when the thermostat goes from the neutral position to the big bolded H. Smoke immediately starters pouring out of the engine, and you slam on your breaks to prevent the car from blowing up.

“Shit! No, please don’t do this to me,” you beg to no one.

You get out of the car and pull your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your face while you inspect the damage. You pull the hood up and a cloud of smoke bellows in your face. You quickly turn and cough violently.

“No, no, no, this isn’t happening now,” you gasp. “Not today of all days.”

You don’t have time to wait for an Uber or Triple A, so the only other thing you can do is walk to work… in heels… on a dirt road. The time it will take to walk to work will be the same time or more waiting for an Uber or Triple A. Not only are you going to be late for work but you’ll have to apologize to your boss about it. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you but your boss just so happens to be your high school boyfriend.

Steve was the perfect boyfriend. He treated you with respect, didn’t undermine your values, supported you through everything, and loved you unconditionally. Everyone in school thought you two would be together forever and there was a point where you thought that, too. Right before graduation, you got an incredible opportunity to go to a different country and do a study abroad in Russia.

Steve got into Harvard for business and wanted you to go with him. You two applied for Harvard and you both got in, but you really wanted to go to Russia to study for a semester. To spare the sad details, you two broke up. It was one of the most difficult things you have ever done because you were still in love with him.

After coming back to the States, he was already in another relationship with someone. You never thought your story would end the way it did but you forced yourself to move on. For years, you thought you did. You had a few boyfriends but none of them had an impact the way Steve did.

Then one day, you got an amazing offer to work for Captain Industries as a sales director for the entire sales department. One of the job duties as a sales director is to report everything to the CEO, and luck had it that Steve was the CEO. You often had meetings with the different department directors who touch base with Steve so he knows what’s going on with his company.

The first day on the job, you and Steve locked eyes in the first meeting of the day. It had been years since you two have spoken much less seen each other, so you didn't want to make a big deal in front of everyone. You thought he would have said something after the meeting but he left like you didn’t mean a damn thing to him. Maybe he didn’t remember you, but how can someone forget the person who was their first for everything--first kiss, first date, first time you two held hands, first time you had sex, and the first time you ever gave anyone a promise ring. He was the love of your life but maybe you weren't his as much as he was yours.

When you finally reach work, you immediately head to the bathroom to fix yourself up. You must look like a sweaty mess, and your reflection confirms it. Despite the headache forming from how high your ponytail is, you keep your hair up. If you were to put it down, you’ll look worse. You look at the time and curse when you realize just how late you are for your morning meeting.

Forty-five fucking minutes. Steve is going to chew your ass out. You leave the bathroom and interrupt the morning meeting with an embarrassed look on your face. Everyone turns to look at you including Steve. He looks at your hair before locking eyes with you. Time seems to slow down the longer he looks into your eyes but you break eye contact.

“Sorry I’m late. Car trouble,” you mutter.

You quickly take a seat, and the director of marketing slides her notes over to you. You look at her gratefully and look over the notes just as the meeting resumes.

“As I was saying,” Steve says, peeling his eyes from you, “statistics show a slight decline in demand for products. Frank, have you hired two more manufacturing engineers?”

“Yes, we’re training them right now. We have been working hard creating more product.”

“Good. Y/N, how is your department doing?”

You snap your head up to look at Steve and sit up a bit straighter.

“We lost Marissa since she went on maternity leave but we won’t let that stop us from not picking up the slack. Her duties have been spread out throughout the different managers to give to their employees. I have seen a rise in sales by ten percent.”

“Make it twenty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Meetings only last an hour since Steve is so busy so the next fifteen minutes go by easily. Jules lets you keep her notes to look over and copy if needed. Most people filter out immediately but you’re one of the last ones in so you can apologize to Steve directly.

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry for being late. My car stalled on the side of the road on the way to work. I had to walk the entire way here.”

“I need your reports on my desk by the end of the day.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He must not be over your breakup because this isn’t the Steve you knew. You gather your things and head to your office. You almost cry from how stressed you are because you still have to deal with your car. Not to mention your headache is getting worse and you don’t have a brush to fix your hair.

It takes all day to work on the reports for Steve so you’re one of the last ones in the office even though you still have two more hours until the end of the work day. You could leave since you’re salaried but you need to make up time for being late. You walk to his office and knock once on the door, entering when he gives you permission.

“I have the reports for you.” You walk over to his desk and place them there but you don’t leave just yet. “Again, I’m sorry for being late.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. It happens.” Steve looks up and sees you squeeze your eyes tightly from the headache you have. “Come here.”

Steve stands when you approach him, and he gently takes the elastic out of your hair. He threads all ten fingers into your hair and starts massaging the area, and you close your eyes in relief. You open your eyes and look at Steve to see him already looking at you, and he sees the question in your eyes.

“High ponytails give you headaches.”

You’re shocked he remembered that. You were on multiple sports teams in high school and instead of putting your hair in a ponytail like the rest of the girls, you put it in a tight bun at the base of your neck.

“You remembered,” you whisper.

“There’s a lot I still remember.” Steve takes his hands away but doesn’t step back from you. “Go to my personal conference room and take a nap on the couch. You’re overworking yourself.”

“Steve--”

“I don’t want to hear it. Go take a nap and then I’ll drive you home. I’ll pick you up and drive you home until your car is fixed.”

He must not be in a relationship if he’s offering to do this for you. You’re not sure how you feel about that--scratch that you do know how you feel but you’re not sure if he feels the same about it. You slowly walk to the door but pause before you can leave the room. You look at Steve who is already typing away on his computer.

“Now, Y/N,” he says without looking up.

You jump and immediately leave with a smile on your face. The time for you and Steve wasn’t right back then but there’s nothing stopping you from making it right now.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[apomaro-mellow]

Govt gets kas!eddie fin

Part 8

"They're coming?! What the hell does that mean, Sinclair?!", Robin shrieked.

"The babies! Okay?!" Lucas went to Steve's side, dropping his weapons and pulling up the thick hoodie, revealing his stomach.

Robin felt rocks drop in hers when she saw how big it was. The it rolled when she saw it move. "What the-", she gagged a little and put her hand against a tree. "I can't do this. I can't do this."

"Robin, you gotta help me! You're a girl!"

"This!", she jabbed her finger towards Steve's stomach. "Has nothing to do with womanhood!"

Steve regained lucidity for just a moment, coming back into himself and gasping. "Please. Robin please. They're Eddie's. Mine and Eddie's. Please, Robin, I don't know what to do."

His eyes were glistening and any nausea Robin felted was replaced by loyalty. "Let's get out of here first", she said.

She and Lucas both helped Steve to his feet and hobbled more than walked back to the portal El had opened. Steve was heavy on a normal day but now that he was pregnant?

'How is he pregnant?!!!!', Robin's brain wailed while she tried to get Steve to safety.

Steve's car was right there and Robin helped Steve into the backseat while Lucas got behind the wheel. They had both completely forgotten about the others until the walkie crackled to life and Mike could be heard on the other end.

"Lucas?! Robin?! What happened!?"

"Something's wrong with Eddie, he went berserk and took off!", Dustin screamed.

Robin met Lucas' eyes through the rearview mirror. Then Steve let out a scream and they both got their heads in the game. Lucas grabbed the walkie-talkie and sped down the road, one hand on the wheel.

"No time to explain! He's probably following us. We're going to Steve's!"

"Did something happen to Steve?!", Dustin screeched. "Why is El smiling?!?"

Lucas slammed his foot on the pedal the moment the Harrington house was in sight, parking haphazardly in the driveway. Moments later, they heard a strange wail and a portal opened up in the front yard. Eddie bounded through it, blood still dripping from his mouth.

Without a word, he scooped Steve from the backseat and brought him inside, placing him into his nest. Lucas and Robin were still panicking, scrambling around and grabbing birthing supplies. But all Eddie did was rumble softly and Steve's fears were put to rest. He was still in pain, but he knew Eddie wouldn't let anything happen to their pups.

"Oh god this is gonna be a mess", Robin said, snapping Steve back to reality.

"Eddie, take me upstairs. To the guest room." He didn't know how the babies would be coming out, but soon the house would be full of people and he'd prefer it if every single one of them didn't see his junk. Eddie obeyed without question, carrying him up the stairs.

Robin followed, holding Steve's hand the moment he was put onto the bed.

"You sure you wanna be here? It's gonna be gross", Steve warned her.

"Well, don't women usually have their moms around for support? And your mom's not here so..."

Steve laughed through the pain and Robin helped him strip down while Eddie washed Vecna's blood off. He would greet his offspring with a clean mouth and hands. Once cleaned, he put a hand to Steve's stomach.

"They're ready. Are you?"

"As I'll ever be", Steve breathed out.

Downstairs screaming could be heard as the others arrived. Dustin was the first to try and bound up the stairs but Lucas grabbed him in time.

"You don't wanna go up there, man."

While Lucas was bombarded with questions and he gave the best explanation he could, Steve pushed three new lives out of him. When it was all said and done, Steve was drenched in sweat and the room was covered in black goo. And there were three blobs of blackness cradled in Eddie's arms. They looked spiny, almost like seas urchins, but Steve could tell they were soft. He'd know if there'd been something that sharp in him.

"Oh Eddie...", he sighed. "They're..."

Their little spines touched at Eddie and each other, exploring the world already. Eddie cooed and laid down next to Steve, letting him touch. They were wet and a little slimy but utterly perfect to Steve.

"Hello", he whispered, completely in awe.

Robin crept out to give them some privacy and to clean herself off a bit. While she was gone, the new parents continued to speak to their babes when something strange happened. One began to move oddly, shifting and turning, its color changing as it did. And right before their eyes, their pup changed from appearing like a sea urchin to a normal human baby. Well, almost normal.

The other two followed suit, flexing their toes and fingers, getting used to the new form before giving their lungs a test run and crying. One had the beginnings of a tail, like Eddie. The second baby had tiny wings on their back, useless for now but would probably take them to the skies when they grew. And the third had the most human appearance if it weren't for the start of teeth already that promised to be fangs and claws.

Steve chuckled. "Not looking forward to breastfeeding you."

Eddie kissed his forehead. "They know not to bite their mother."

They adjusted so that they could try just that. Steve didn't think it would work but he was able to get one latched on while Eddie held the other two. They'd need names. And beds. And diapers. And shit did they still live in a good school district? Eddie pushed those thoughts away with another kiss, this time to his lips.

"Did I make good on that promise?", he asked, looking more like himself before he died than ever.

Steve grinned. "I don't know...Three is hardly a litter. You might need to knock me up again~", he winked.

Eddie beamed and kissed him again, careful of the infants in his arms. "That can be arranged."

There was a knock so hesitant at the door, Steve could have cried.

"You ready to face the wolves?"

Eddie looked at him, eyes full of love. "Better the wolves than the government."

END

Taglist

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@tinyplanet95 @thedragonsaunt @stripey82 @ajeff855 @bumblebeecuttlefishes

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@reverseteehee @stedestielfrattficlover

[3amfanfiction]

Will you ever elaborate on how simon obtained doll like how you did john and darling, love your writing btw💗💗💗

Thanks for reaching out! I'm glad you like my work <33 I can't see him having enough social niceties to do anything other than to snatch doll up. He wouldn't be charming enough to get them in the car or to convince them to go home with him so it would have to be by force. Here's a little 2k blurb of Ghost bringing Doll home. cw: stalking, abduction, physical assault

Ghost and Doll Meet

Part of the Doll and Darling series. This is a dark series so mind the tags.

You'd like to say that you did something stupid to get yourself into this predicament. That you got into the wrong car or went home with the wrong person from the bar. Or even that you ran your mouth in front of the wrong audience.

It wasn't true though. You didn't do anything.

He would eventually tell you about the first time he saw you. You were walking out of a corner store, juggling your spoils as you reached for a ringing phone. He'd run out of cigarettes and happened to see you as you were leaving. It was a chance encounter that had your paths crossing. Chance that ruined your life.

The first time you saw him was from your living room window, standing across the street.

All you could really make out was the size of him, a solid black mass that seemed to draw in the surrounding light like a black hole. He was massive and covered from head to toe in dark fabric, not an inch of skin to be seen.

You jerked to a stop on your way past, staring into the deepening shadows trying to make the figure out. It was a fruitless endeavor so you did the only thing that seemed logical in the moment.

You closed the curtains and continued on with your night, paying no further mind to the peeping Tom that wanted to look into your home.

You considered the matter a done deal until you saw him again days later, this time leaning against the tailgate of an old truck as he smoked a cigarette.

It was fully dark this time and you were coming out of the grocery store when you noticed him. You would've glanced right over his hulking shape if the cherry red end didn't light up with his inhale. A brief glow that allowed just enough light to see that something was there.

Was he following you?

Maybe it wasn't even the same person. No need to jump to conclusions based solely on someone's size. He might just be waiting on a friend.

But then why was he staring at you?

His head turned to follow you as you continued along your way. That was fine, sometimes people stared, it wasn't the end of the world. No reason to panic.

You cursed the fact that this store was close enough to walk to. You'd packed up your reusable bags and now you were stuck hoofing it home. It was going to be okay though, you were going to get home safely and lock the door and everything would be just fine.

You refused to look behind you when you heard what might have been a scruff of a shoe against the concrete or might have been the bush of the tree branch against the side of a building. Either way you were almost there and it didn't concern you.

Your hands were shaking by the time you reached home and tried to get your key into the lock. It scraped at the opening a few times before finally catching, allowing you to unlock it and push the door open to quickly get inside. Slamming the door shut behind you, you leaned back and tried to catch your breath. Your heartbeat pounded away in your chest and your hands were still trembling.

But you were inside. You were safe. Nothing was going to happen to you.

It took an hour and a healthy glass of wine before you finally stopped shaking.

—

It was a week later that he was back across the street again.

You'd found yourself compulsively checking out the windows every time you had to cross them. A constant source of stress as you wondered if this would be the time you saw him again. After the first few days of nothing you began to relax, content to reassure yourself you had blown things a mite out of proportion.

That went out the window when you saw his shadow once more stood across the street, placed to have a direct view into your house.

Why was this happening? What did he want? You slammed the curtains shut so forcefully you heard stitches pop, fabric swinging madly where it had just been abruptly closed. You'd speak to the police tomorrow.

—

The police wouldn't do anything when you went to see them the next day. You'd begged for them to help but without anything more substantial than 'seeing a scary looking man hanging around' they said their hands were tied.

It was such a load of bullshit.

You stormed out of the building fuming. Sitting down with a huff at the bus stop you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Pulling it out with a frown you were greeted with a blocked number texting you. A simple sentence that sent chills down your spine.

Better luck next time, Doll.

What the fuck? How did he get your number? Was he watching you even now? You surreptitiously looked around, attempting to find him. You hadn't come across him in the daylight before. You'd foolishly thought yourself safe to go to the station since it wasn't even noon yet. Stupid stupid stupid.

You shoved your phone into your pocket with a worried frown. What were you going to do now?

—

It went on like this for a month, catching glimpses of him when you leave stores or work, standing in shadowed alcoves that you glanced over until a cigarette lit up, drawing your eye. Your curtains stayed permanently closed now, blocking the view into your house but also keeping you from seeing what was outside the window. The uncertainty of it was almost worse.

When a sound woke you in the middle of the night you knew what you were going to find before you opened your eyes.

Still, you couldn't help the involuntary choice your body made to pry your sleep-sticky eyes open, immediately zeroing in on the man standing beside your bed. It didn't even take a thought before you were opening your mouth to scream, the endeavor cut off before it started as he muffled it in his palm.

You kicked your arms and legs out but caught under the blankets as you were they didn't do much damage, just tangled you up further, tightening your noose. You got your teeth around a portion of glove covered finger and bit as hard as you could, your jaw aching with the pressure you exerted.

It was the last thing you remembered as you glimpsed a fist making its way towards your temple in the dark.

—

Waking up, your head throbbed. Just turning to see a bit more of the room you were in left your vision swimming and nausea swirling in your gut. A whimper crawled its way out of your mouth as you took deep, steadying breaths trying to recenter yourself.

It was minutes later before you were able to pry your eyes open again, squinting against the meager light of the bare light bulb as it stabbed through your skull. What greeted you was a cold, empty room.

Concrete floor and walls, nothing present except yourself and the thin mattress you were laying on. It looked like an unfinished basement or cellar with no windows and a set of rough wooden stairs leading up to the next level. The bare bulb you'd noticed before the only light source, dangling from a thin cord in the middle of the room.

Moving to curl your knees to your chest you were met with a loud clinking as pressure increased around one ankle and you realized that you were chained to a post in the middle of the room. A leather cuff wrapped snugly just above your bare foot.

You laid there and stared at it, mind shying away from the truth even when it was right in front of you. If you ignored it then it would go away, right? You'd close your eyes and when you opened them again you'd be back in your own bed, snuggled in your thick blankets, soft pillows surrounding you.

There's no way you'd actually been kidnapped by a stupid stalker. You knew it didn't only happen in Lifetime movies but you still never expected to have it happen to you. As much as you tried to fight it, you could feel your panic rising in your chest, choking out your lungs.

What was going to happen to you?

Were you going to be killed immediately? Your body taken out to the side of the highway and dumped like trash? Would anyone be able to identify you or would you be a Jane Doe for the rest of eternity? A name that wasn't your own attached to you for all of time.

Or would you be kept instead? Forced to stay in this dank room subjected to the whims of your captor. What would he do to you? What would he make you do? Would your friends and family ever stop looking for you? Would they post your missing poster to their social media every year around this time? Or try to move on with their lives?

Was one scenario better than the other?

Your mind was spiraling when you finally noticed someone in the far corner. Letting out a small scream of fear you jerked back sending radiating waves of pain down your back and through your skull. Your muscles spasming as your vision swam in and out of focus. You tried to keep your eyes on the dark mass but your spinning vision meant you had to clench them shut, anything to stop the horrible vertigo.

It was a man. The same one that grabbed you from bed you were pretty sure. Everything had happened in a rush but it was hard to forget someone that large. He was completely covered in dark clothes, obscuring all but the general shape of him.

It made him feel less human.

"What," you croaked, fighting back nausea, "what do you want? Why did you take me?"

You focused on your kernel of anger to keep from breaking down into tears. Anything to ward off the oncoming panic you could feel building. You'd never been much of a crier but you found your eyes prickling easily now. A tingle in the back of your nose, tiny little bites of a needle.

He didn't say anything, continuing to loom in the corner. A dark spot you were already coming to equate with fear and pain. As you forced yourself to focus you realized he wasn't so much looming as he was sitting, splayed comfortably in a chair—watching you.

"You're the stalker, right?" you tried, angling for a response—any response. "The one I've been seeing around? Finally got bored with watching and decided to do something about it?" Anger. Hold onto the anger.

Silence.

"Hey!" you croaked, trying still for bravado, "what, are you ignoring me? Why am I here?"

He continued to sit there quietly, through all the abuse you hurled. A silent sentinel that never reacted no matter what you thought of to throw at him, your vocabulary growing more colorful as time passed.

Your voice was hoarse and raspy by the time he deigned to respond.

When he stood, you fell silent. All your earlier bluster draining away with a single movement. Was he larger than you remembered? He was certainly scarier, having shown he wasn't afraid to assault you to get what he wanted. Remembering it made your head throb anew, the radiating ache pushing back to the forefront of your mind now that you had acknowledged it.

His boots thumped, echoing with each step like a drumbeat inside you. Each thump bringing him closer, your fate steadily encroaching. You didn't want this, you were sorry for the things you said, you didn't mean them, please don't, you babbled, anything to stop what was coming. This impending disaster you could see building with no way to brace for.

You were barely breathing by the time he stopped beside your mattress, crouching down to reach out with one glove covered palm. You flinched away, back pressed to the wall with nowhere else to go when his fingers trailed down your cheek. Pulling back he showed you the sheen of your tears on the well-worn leather. When had you started crying?

"We're gonna get along just fine, doll," he cooed condescendingly, his voice rumbling bass deep. "You an' me? S'gonna be one for the history books."

Next

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