#and there are things starting to connect in the back of his mind

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

The Cat Burglar's Heist

★ PAIRING: Ceo!Jaehyun x Cat Burglar! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 19.6k (sorry TT)

★ GENRE(S): Fluff, smut, angst, drama, strangers to lovers.

☆ SUMMARY: When you attempt to rob a wealthy businessman, things don't go as planned. Instead of calling the police, he offers you a job. Now, you're left uncertain about whether you can truly start anew or if your past will come back to haunt you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: explicit sex, unprotected sex, minor character death, loneliness, theft

☆★ NOTES: probably gonna be my last fic for awhile so enjoy!

People might call you a pickpocket, a burglar, a larcenist, or a simple thief. Whatever the label, it didn’t matter to you; you always slipped away unnoticed. You never hit the same neighborhood twice, always staying light on your feet and never lingering too long in one place. There was only one rule you lived by.

Don't Get Caught.

Maintaining a low profile was essential whenever you scouted a new neighborhood. As the sun beat down, you strolled through the area with a dog at your side, scanning for the easiest target. The shades you wore partially concealed your identity while shielding your eyes from the scorching sun. Your friend’s dog trotted happily beside you, blissfully unaware of the role it played in your plan. If your friend found out you were using his beloved pet as cover for your schemes, he would kill you. You had to keep this under wraps—after all, your friends were all you had. Stealing was the only way you could keep pace with the lifestyle your friend enjoyed.

You refused to be left behind, so the money you made from stealing became your lifeline for fitting in. Each successful job meant another night out, another round of drinks, and another chance to blend seamlessly into your friend group’s lavish lifestyle. You had built your world around them, and you’d do anything to keep up appearances, even if it meant walking a dangerous line.

Daegal fit right in with the neighborhood, his designer leash and collar catching the sunlight. You wandered deeper into one of the city's wealthiest enclaves, surrounded by towering trees that served as natural barriers for the sprawling estates. Luxury cars glimmered in driveways, while some homes flaunted their riches with intricate architectural designs that spoke of unspoken fortunes.

As you walked, Daegal suddenly slowed his pace, his nose twitching at the approaching scent of another dog. You felt your palms grow clammy around the leash; the fewer people who noticed you, the better. You were keenly aware of the risks, and any unwanted attention could spell trouble.

The older lady, her silver hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, approached with her fluffy Pomeranian in tow. A wave and a smile erupted from her, directed toward Daegal, and you cursed under your breath. The last thing you needed was a conversation.

The two dogs tilted their heads, inspecting one another with the calm demeanor that only well-trained pets possess. You could feel her gaze on you, and you forced a tight smile onto your face, betraying none of your rising anxiety.

Wonderful!

"He's so cute! What's his name?" you ask politely, forcing a bright smile.

"His name is Prince, but the kids call him Pudding," the older woman replies with a hearty laugh.

You let a small chuckle escape your lips. "How adorable!"

"And what about this handsome fella?" she inquires, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“His name?” Your mind races, almost short-circuiting. "He's… Fluffy!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and convincing.

You know rich people have more connections than they do money, and there's a good chance she could be linked to your friend Chenle somewhere down the line. It’s safer to spin a little tale.

"Well, he's quite the charmer! I'm sure he’s brought you many joys," she continues, obliviously cheerful, while tension coils tighter in your veins. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the neighborhood! Someone as young and pretty as you would fit right in!” Her compliment catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly at her kind words.

“Thanks!” you reply quickly, hoping to deflect attention from the flush creeping up your face. "I love it here."

She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, about a month ago, this really young CEO moved in just a block down. He's a bit too young for me, but my goodness, he’s quite the sight," she said, laughing heartily as she swatted her hand playfully, as if sharing a scandalous secret.

Rich people thrived on gossip, and you realized you didn't have to say much for her to fill you in on exactly what you wanted to know.

"A man like that has to be tied down, right?" you asked, bending down to pet her dog.

"From what I’ve heard, he lives alone," she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Apparently, he works all the time. Word is, he comes home late every night. My husband says he drives an Aston Martin."

Bingo

"Thanks for the heads-up about the neighborhood hottie, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now," you joked, lightly chuckling to keep the conversation light. Just then, Daegal began to fidget, sensing your restlessness, and you took it as your cue to leave. "I’ll see you around, okay?"

As you walked a block down, your heart raced when you spotted a sleek black Aston Martin parked in a long driveway. The houses in this neighborhood were enormous. Although the properties weren’t far apart; the homes were set back from the road, mostly hidden by towering trees that provided an extra layer of privacy.

A young CEO who lives alone and works late.

You mentally sifted through the details you had gleaned from your earlier conversation. He was the perfect target.

Rich people were easy targets. Their homes, adorned with elaborate security measures, falsely reassured them of safety; all it did was signal that they had something worth taking. The flashy yard signs proclaiming "This home is under surveillance by _" told you their security company, which then told you the equipment they used. It wasn't hard to figure out how to disable it from there.

It had been a week since you first gathered your intel. Through careful observation, you had mapped out a schedule for when the house was empty and discovered how to bypass the alarm system. You’d managed to catch glimpses of the homeowner from a distance. The rumors were true; he carried himself with a confidence that only added to his undeniable charm.

Tonight was the night you would make your move. Clad in a black hoodie and sweatpants, you pull your bag over your shoulder and approach the perimeter of the house. Your heart was racing with adrenaline. You navigated the landscape smoothly, well aware of the blind spots in the security cameras. Timing was critical; every second counted.

You pressed yourself against the side of the window, heart pounding as you carefully peeked through the curtain. The green light on the alarm system by the door confirmed it wasn’t armed. This was a stroke of luck. According to your calculations, he should still be at work, and it appeared he had rushed out without arming the system.

You hesitated briefly, knowing this part was your least favorite. Breaking a window was always an awkward and potentially noisy affair. No matter how silent you tried to be, it was impossible to avoid the sound entirely. Taking a deep breath, you picked up a nearby rock, and with a swift, calculated strike, you shattered the glass.

The clatter echoed in the stillness, sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins, but you quickly reminded yourself to keep moving. You reached inside and unlocked the window, then climbed through carefully, stepping over the brittle shards that crunched beneath your feet as they scattered onto the plush carpet.

You found yourself in an open den, its decor exuding wealth and taste. Valuable paintings adorned the walls—masterpieces, maybe—but nothing small enough to pocket. You needed to keep going, focusing on finding something worthwhile.

Peeking your head out of the room, you scanned the hallway. Silence enveloped the house, amplifying the sound of your racing heartbeat. No sign of any pets, which was a relief. You made your way toward the primary areas, passing under the large winding staircase that commanded attention in the center of the home.

The layout seemed to follow suit with luxury; hallways branched off to what you assumed were the kitchen and living spaces. The primary room was likely upstairs, but there were many drawers and cabinets you could check on this level. Eager to find where the real valuables might be stashed, you decided to take a brief look around before venturing up the staircase. You shuffled quietly down the hall.

You glanced into a few rooms—one vast space was styled as a study, filled with leather-bound books and expensive-looking gadgets. A quick search through the drawers revealed a few electronic devices you could easily pocket. Moving on, you turned towards the kitchen, where gleaming countertops hinted at a lifestyle of lavish dinners and entertaining guests.

You couldn’t imagine why he would ever need a home this large if he lived alone; the sprawling floor plan was almost excessive. Each room you passed seemed to hold its own story, yet they stood untouched, as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. The formal dining room sported an enormous mahogany table, set for a feast that would never happen, and the living room boasted a grand piano that echoed a silent invitation to a party long forgotten. The atmosphere felt eerie, the elaborate decor clashing with the emptiness—like a stage set for a play that had never opened.

Your eyes darted toward the staircase. The rich wooden banister glimmered in the ambient light, inviting you to explore the secrets that lay above. You took a deep breath and ascended carefully. As you reached the landing, you spotted a door at the end of the hallway slightly ajar, the flicker of a light spilling into the dim corridor.

When you enter the room, the sweet aroma of cologne lingered in the air like a ghost, a faint reminder of its owner. The sheer magnitude of the space left you speechless. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you forward to the side tables flanking the expansive bed. There, you quickly spotted a discarded high-end watch, its polished surface glimmering in the light. Alongside it lay a selection of intricate rings, each one whispering tales of luxury and allure.

As you rifled through the drawers, your fingers brushed against something solid—a wallet. You opened it, and your eyes immediately fell on the ID card nestled inside.

Jung Jaehyun 02/14/1997

Beneath the ID, you found a stack of credit cards and a few loose bills, all waiting to be claimed. You quickly slipped the wallet into your pocket. You approached the closet, and a gasp escaped your lips as the sight hit you—it resembled a mini-designer store. Expensive shoes, luxurious clothes, and shimmering jewelry lined the walls and shelves, all begging to be claimed. You wasted no time, swiftly swiping rings, watches, chains, and even a pair of stunning shoes, each item adding to the growing bounty in your backpack.

As you rummaged through the treasures, something caught your eye: a safe tucked behind a row of suits. Intrigued, you pushed the garments aside to inspect the lock. Cracking your neck, you glanced at the time—plenty of hours remained before he would return.

Just then, you heard footsteps outside the closet, and your heart dropped. You instinctively moved to hide behind the rack of suits, heart pounding in your ears.

“What the fuck?” A voice sliced through the silence, unmistakably belonging to the man you had been eyeing all week.

You held your breath, peering through the fabric. The hope flickered that he might just turn away and call the police, giving you a chance to slip out unnoticed. But instead, he stepped further into the closet, and your heart raced as you caught your first glimpse of him up close..

His hair glistened with moisture, and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still cascading down his skin, the steam from his shower enveloping him like a shroud. You had never seen him this close before, and the image was seared into your memory. He looked as if he had been sculpted from stone by the most masterful artist, every muscle defined, every feature striking.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the chaos—the discarded clothes on the floor, the missing racks of jewelry, the disarray of his closet. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips, and just as he seemed ready to turn away and leave, his gaze locked onto your hiding spot.

A jolt of panic shot through you, and you instinctively jumped back, trying to press yourself further into the fabric of the clothes. You held your breath, heart racing, as he took a step closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It was a moment of vulnerability and danger, a breathless standoff between the two of you.

Don't get caught

His steps were cautious as he approached, each footfall echoing in the silence of the closet. One hand gripped his towel tightly, clearly trying to maintain his modesty, while the other reached out hesitantly toward the clothes.

If it came to it, you knew you would have to fight him off and make a run for it, but with each passing second, you realized just how difficult that would be. He was built solidly and his height towered over you, casting an imposing shadow.

What if he got his hands on you? The thought sent a wave of dread through you. There would be no escaping him then.

Fuck

In a surge of adrenaline, you dashed out from your hiding spot, heart racing. His eyes widen in surprise as you rush past him, but the exhilaration of your escape was short-lived. Just a few feet away, you felt a sudden tug on your backpack that yanked you backwards.

You hit the floor with a thud, groaning as the impact jolted through you. Before you could recover, you felt a strong grip pinning you down, his hand firm against your shoulders. Panic set in, and you thrashed against his hold, fighting to break free, but he was unyielding.

As your struggle continued, exhaustion began to creep in. The fight drained from you, and you finally stopped, staring up at the man who had you pinned beneath him. His wet hair hung down over you, droplets cascading down onto your face.. His stern eyes bore into yours—there was an intensity that made your breath hitch, a mix of disbelief and something else entirely.

"Let me go!" you demanded, though your voice came out weaker than you intended. If it weren't for the predicament you found yourself in, you would have been unable to stop your wandering eyes. The towel around his waist was precariously close to slipping, a detail that, in ordinary circumstances, might have made you blush. But now, survival instincts prevailed over all else.

“If you try to run, I’ll call the cops,” he said matter-of-factly, and the gravity of his threat sent a chill down your spine.

A beat passed, your heart pounding in your chest, and finally, you nodded, conceding to the reality of the situation. There was no escape now; he had you right where he wanted you.

He released his grip on you and pulled himself off the floor, adjusting his towel. “Back to the closet, now,” he commanded, and you shuffled reluctantly back into the space that had formerly felt enticing but was now suffocating.

As you stepped in, you found yourself standing in front of the center island, where the glimmer of jewels had once laid. He followed you, shutting the door behind him, his body leaning against it like a barrier between you and freedom.

“Is everything you took in that bag?” He asked, his tone even, but there was an undertone of curiosity mixed with authority.

With a heavy heart, you hung your head and nodded, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and placing it on the floor in front of you. You could almost feel the weight of the stolen items pressing down on your conscience. You'd had visions of making thousands selling his valuables, the thrill of your heist driving you forward. But now, in the dim light of the closet, remorse washed over you like a tide.

“I’m really sorry, I—” you started, the words stumbling from your lips. What could you possibly say in a situation like this? Sorry, I almost stole a fortune from you? It felt absurd, but you didn't know how to express the chaos swirling within you.

He moved closer, looming over you as his intent gaze seemed to dissect every part of your being. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt small beneath his scrutiny. When he reached down, you thought he was about to pick up his possessions. But instead, he grabbed a discarded pair of sweats, and you felt a rush of a different kind of embarrassment as he stood up straight, his towel dropping to the ground. You instinctively looked away, sparing him what felt like an invasion of privacy.

Once he was dressed, he stepped back out of the closet, leaving you with a mix of relief and confusion. "Straighten this up, then come see me. Bring that bag and everything you tried to take with you," he ordered.

You swallowed hard. “Where are you going? Are you going to call the cops?”

Your mind raced with possibilities—how clever would he be if he made you tidy up while the police were on their way?

“Do as I say and you will have nothing to worry about," he replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "I don't like messes; clean that up before I change my mind."

Frustration mingled with a strange sense of gratitude. You were infuriated that he was ordering you around like a subordinate, yet the alternative—a police record—loomed much larger in your mind. Why wasn’t he calling the cops?

Taking a deep breath, you began to survey the mess you had made in your frantic attempt to bag his stuff.

It took you at least an hour to set everything back in its rightful place. You meticulously reorganized the jewelry, aligning necklaces and bracelets, smoothing over the disarray you'd caused. You busied yourself with invisible tasks afterward, finding solace in the repetitive act of pretending to straighten his shoes for the fifth time. Avoiding the inevitable confrontation with him was becoming a game of denial.

“I know you’re done; come here,” he commanded, and you froze for a moment. Biting your lip to gather your thoughts, you hesitantly grabbed your bag and stepped out into his room. He was seated on the massive California king bed, an imposing figure that radiated a mix of authority and casual dominance. Leaning back against his hands, he looked every bit like a king surveying his domain, and the sight sent a fresh wave of nerves through you.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but again, I’m really sorry,” you said, forcing the words out as you handed him the bag.

He took the bag from your grasp without much acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere. “Sit down,” he instructed.

You shifted uncomfortably, the anxiety bubbling to the surface. What more could he possibly want from you? He had said he would let you go, hadn’t he? “Sit where?” You looked around the spacious room, taking in the lack of chairs or any other furniture that might serve as a place for you to perch.

He finally lifted his gaze, his hair still damp from the shower, falling into his eyes. “Sit on your knees, right there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him.

You bristled at the command, a mix of confusion and indignation flooding through you. Kneeling before him felt like a submission you had not anticipated, and despite the gravity of your earlier actions, you hesitated to comply with his demands.

“I—" you stammered, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out that didn't sound foolish or defiant.

Seeing your hesitation, his expression shifted slightly, a mixture of patience and something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. "You can either sit down like I asked, or we can have a much longer discussion about how this is going to go," he suggested, his tone low but firm, setting the stage for whatever decision you had to make next.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, feeling the cool surface beneath your knees, and looked up at him, preparing for whatever was to come next.

He reached behind him and pulled out his phone, an unmistakable sense of dread washing over you as he dug into your bag, retrieving the stolen items one by one. Each piece felt like another nail in your coffin.

He was definitely calling the cops TT

But instead of pressing the call button, he seemed to be calculating something. “$532,724,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your throat tightened at the reality of that number. You were going to jail. Panic bubbled in your chest, and you fought the urge to cry.

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident on his face. “Let’s see how well you clean up,” he said, standing up and ushering you back toward the closet with a wave of his hand.

You stared at him, your heart pounding as his eyes scanned the confines of the closet where you'd made sure to return everything to its original place. His expression was unreadable at first, a blank canvas that made fear swirl in your stomach. But then it softened, surprising you further.

“Not bad. What’s your name?” He asked, his tone almost casual.

You swallowed hard before nervously answering, “Y/N.”

“How would you like a job, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. This had to be a sick joke. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following,” you stammered, incredulous.

“You will work for me to pay off the debt that you owe,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait, I didn’t actually take anything!” You argued, your mind racing to process his proposal.

“But you tried,” he shrugged, his casual demeanor shifting to something more serious. “It’s about principle. You made a choice, and now you have to make it right.”

“Are you seriously saying I have to work for you to pay off half a million dollars?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mix of indignation and disbelief gripping you.

“I could always call the police,” he said lightly, but the weight of his words sunk in with more gravity than you expected.

“Whoa now, no one said I wouldn't help,” you laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood but failing to shake the anxiety coiling within you.

“Great! You start tomorrow. Come in business attire,” he said with a yawn, as if he were sending you off to a regular job rather than a complicated arrangement born out of desperation.

You turned to follow him out, not sure why you're trying so hard to argue him down “Wait, wha—”

Suddenly, a bright flash burst in front of you, and you stumbled backward, temporarily blinded. You blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings. “Ow! What was that for?” you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes.

He smirked as he lowered his phone, the camera still pointed at you. “If you try to run, I’ll post this picture online and tell the world what you’ve done. Then I’ll hand it over to the police so they can track you down.” His gaze was icy as he scrutinized you, taking in every detail. “I have the resources to find you. Don’t make me have to look for you.”

You felt a mix of anger and fear bubble up inside you. “So you’re blackmailing me?” you huff.

“I’m giving you a second chance,” he corrected, his tone slipping back into that unsettling calmness. He stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with a surprisingly firm grip. “8 a.m. tomorrow. Now get out.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a gentle push by your shoulders, urging you toward the staircase. You stumbled slightly but regained your footing. As you made your way down the stairs and out of his house, Your circumstances settled squarely on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a thief of your freedom; he was now your employer, your keeper—at least for the foreseeable future.

He walked with you to the front door, his face a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Just as he was about to close the door in your face, he paused and turned back. “How did you get in?” he quirked a brow.

A small, nervous smile crept onto your lips as you fumbled for an explanation. “Uh, I broke a window,” you admitted.

Jaehyun regards you with an unimpressed stare.

“I’ll clean it up tomorrow!” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “Heh… add it to my bill?”

The door slammed shut in your face, the sound echoing in the cool night air. You turned away from the door and took a few steps down the front path, your mind racing.

The situation was certainly absurd.

—

You roll out of bed at 6 a.m. with a groan, the early morning light cutting through your curtains. You’ve never been a morning person, and the thought of facing the day fills you with dread. After washing up, you slip into an outfit that fits the dress code he set for you—a blend of professional and approachable that feels foreign against your skin.

As you glance at your reflection in the mirror, a fleeting thought crosses your mind: what if you just ran away? With the money you’ve saved up, you could leave everything behind and start anew.

Dont make me find you.

His words echo ominously in your head, sending a shiver down your spine. Jaehyun was an enigma; you could hardly wrap your mind around him, but one thing was clear: he had the resources to track you down, wherever you might try to escape.

You gather your things and head out. When you finally arrive and buzz through the gate surrounding his property, it feels surreal to be walking through the front door. Just a day ago, you’d been climbing over his fence and breaking windows—now you were entering as if you belonged.

As Jaehyun lets you inside, you take in the surroundings anew. The sunlight floods the foyer of his mansion, revealing the space you'd barely noticed in your previous haste.

“Stop gawking. I’ll be back down in a bit; I need to finish getting ready. Go clean up the glass you broke,” he commands coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he strides back upstairs. His words and the task ahead settle over you as you prepare to face the mess you made, both physically and metaphorically.

“StOp GawKinG….gO CleAn Up thA GlasS,” you mumble under your breath when he’s out of earshot.

You roll your eyes at his cold demeanor, dismissing it as you head toward the den where you had sneaked in during your last visit. Peeking into the room, you’re greeted by a messy carpet littered with shards of glass. At least the window has been boarded up now. As the daylight streams in, you start to appreciate the paintings that line the walls, each one vibrant and expressive in its own right.

One piece catches your attention more than the others—a striking red canvas that emanates an intense energy. The angry strokes twist together in a way that’s both chaotic and mesmerizing, leaving you to ponder what the artist was trying to convey. As you peer closely, you can’t help but notice the name “Jung Jaehyun” inked subtly in one corner. Your gaze travels around the room, noticing the easel and paints tucked away in the corner; it dawns on you that this isn’t just a display but his workspace. The hard wood beneath your feet breaks the carpeted expanse, revealing about a third of the room transformed into an art studio. Impressed by his talent, you find yourself captivated, the earlier tension momentarily forgotten as you admire the skill behind the chaos.

You shake yourself out of the trance, the allure of the art momentarily fading as you remind yourself of your task. You need to find a vacuum and a trash bin—cleaning up that glass is a priority. Determined, you set off through the rest of the house.

You remember stumbling upon the cleaning closet during your earlier escapades, and you make your way back to it. As you wander, a sense of loneliness hangs in the air, and your suspicions about Jaehyun’s solitary lifestyle only deepen. There was no waitstaff, no other residents—just him in this grand mansion.

You finally locate the vacuum in the cleaning closet, and with the trash bin in hand, you retrace your steps back to the art studio. You kneel on the floor, methodically clean up the shards of glass and place the larger pieces into the bin. You finish cleaning just in time for Jaehyun to come back downstairs.

He fixes the cufflinks on his suit before grabbing his keys. “What else should I tidy up for you? Is there a list somewhere?” You ask.

Jaehyun gives you a puzzled look. “You’re coming with me,” he replies.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I thought I was…" You trail off.

He lets out a laugh, one that surprises you—it's light and genuine, completely at odds with his usual demeanor. His eyes crinkle up, revealing warm dimples that you find surprisingly charming in that moment. “You thought you were going to be doing housework?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, what else is there for me to do?”

His expression becomes more serious, though the hint of a playful smile still lingers. “I said I had a job for you, and I meant it. Come on.” He opens the door for you, locking the house behind him with a click.

As you both walk toward his car, you can’t help but ask, “Where was your car yesterday?” Strapping yourself in, you feel a mix of bitterness and curiosity about how you ended up getting caught snooping—you really should have paid more attention. If his car had been parked outside, you’d have known he was home.

“It was in the shop,” he replies casually, turning the key in the ignition. “I needed new rims. Have you eaten yet?”

Your stomach growls audibly, and you nod in agreement and Jaehyun stops to get breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscuits fills the car as he orders.

As he goes to pay, you watch him rummage through his pockets, brow furrowing in frustration. It’s then that you feel a pang of guilt. You had meant to return his wallet, found tucked away in your pocket after your first encounter. Nervously, you pull it out and offer it to him, trying to lighten the moment. “Whoops, how’d that get in there?” You joke lightly, but when you glance up, you notice the glare he’s giving you.

“Seriously?” he replies.

You stutter out an apology as you take a cautious bite of your biscuit, almost choking when you see where he’s pulled into next. Your eyes widen as you take in the imposing tall building—it’s sleek and modern, with huge glass windows reflecting the bustling streets of downtown. The heart of the city is alive, and your heart races with both excitement and nerves.

Jaehyun turns to you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Surprised? I did say I had a job for you.”

“Uh, I thought we were just going to tidy up at home?” you say, trying to mask your nerves.

As you walk through the lobby beside Jaehyun, you can't help but notice the stares that follow you. Heads turn, whispers flit around as employees greet him warmly. "Good morning, Mr. Jung!" They say, beaming at him with admiration. When their gaze finally shifts to you, you catch a mix of confusion and curiosity on their faces. It’s both flattering and mildly embarrassing standing next to someone so well-regarded and polished. You try to maintain your composure, forcing a smile in response, even as you feel a bit out of place.

After navigating through the maze of cubicles and glass-walled offices, you finally enter Jaehyun's office—spacious, elegantly designed, with a view that overlooks the bustling city streets. The decor is smart and sophisticated, reflecting his professional persona. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Jaehyun makes his way over to his desk to settle into for the day.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks at you with a serious expression. “You’re going to be my secretary,” he states plainly.

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait, what? A secretary?” The idea is almost absurd. “Isn’t that a bit… much? I mean, you do realize I’m not exactly qualified for that, right?”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Plus, it’ll pay way better than doing house chores.”

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, letting determination creep in. “Whats there to lose?”

—

Being Jaehyun's secretary meant answering his calls, scheduling meetings, and running errands. Of course you could do those tasks… you just couldn't do them well.

A little desk had been set up in Jaehyun's office, where most of your day-to-day tasks took place. His office boasted expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. At night, the bustling streets below transformed into a magical landscape, with streetlights, headlights, and stoplights twinkling like stars.

You couldn’t help but blame the close proximity of your workspaces for your increasing difficulty with even the simplest tasks, like getting his coffee order right.

You had brought him his morning coffee, like he asked. You still hadn't gotten used to running his errands in his car. You felt so out of place at the office and the whispers and curious glances from your “coworkers” only heightened your anxiety.

When you finally brought him the morning coffee he had requested, your heart raced with hope for approval. But as he took a sip, his focus remained elsewhere, and he set the cup down without meeting your eyes. “It’s wrong, but you’ll get it right next time,” he said, casually brushing off your mistake. “There's plenty of time for you to improve.”

You bit your lip, anxious to prove that you could handle this role. You didn’t want to be seen as a screw-up, but everything felt overwhelming lately. Jaehyun shoos you away, giving you a task to retrieve printed papers from the printer. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts as you returned, but when you stumbled slightly, you fumbled the stack of papers in your hands.

As the papers fall from your grasp, you accidentally knock over a coffee cup, sending the contents spilling across the desk. The dark liquid splashed over papers, pooling on the surface.

Heart racing, you froze, staring at the mess you had just created. “Oh no!” you exclaimed, scrambling to grab napkins from the nearby drawer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Just breathe,” he said, reaching over to help you clean up the spill. “How do you call yourself a cat burglar with how clumsy you are?” Jaehyun asked, the bemused look on his face suggesting he genuinely wanted to know.

The napkins did little to absorb the liquid, and you could feel the heat seeping through, burning your fingertips. You let out a small wince, instinctively pulling your hand back. Jaehyun sighed at your reaction, and you flicked your wrist in an attempt to shake off the pain while still trying to contain the mess.

“Just hold on,” you muttered to yourself, picking up his laptop and elevating it to protect it from the potential disaster. The last thing you needed was to add an expensive repair bill to the debt you already owed him.

As you awkwardly juggled multiple items that had once laid neatly on his desk, trying to salvage the situation, you suddenly noticed Jaehyun stand up. He took off his suit jacket and, before you could protest, he used it to mop up the spilled coffee.

You gasped as the coffee splashed onto his jacket, but Jaehyun seemed completely unfazed. With purposeful strides, he walked over to you and gently took the items you were juggling, placing them down safely on a part of his desk that wasn’t sticky. Without a word, he grasped your hands, examining your fingers, which were twitching from the pain and already showing signs of red irritation from the hot liquid.

He blew softly on your fingertips, and for a moment, the world around you faded as you met his gaze. The warmth in his chocolate depths almost pulled you in, but before you could lose yourself in that moment, you quickly pulled away.

“I’ll go grab a towel. That’s going to make the wood sticky,” you stammered, turning quickly to leave, your cheeks burning from the tension that hung between you.

You hurried to the bathroom, running cool water over your fingers to soothe the slight burn. Leaning against the edge of the sink, you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. After a moment, you gathered a few items from the cleaning closet, bracing yourself for what lay ahead.

As you walked back, you passed the break room and inadvertently overheard a conversation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“She’s probably sleeping with him. Mr. Jung has never taken on a secretary before,” one voice whispered.

“That’s what I heard. Not to mention she’s terrible at her job. She just gets in the way. Last week she accidentally printed 300 copies of a page because she didn’t know to hit the cancel button! We ran out of ink because of her, and now I have to go downstairs for my copies until a new order comes in!” another voice chimed in, laced with irritation.

You bristled at their accusations, knowing they were talking about you. It stung, but you pressed on, scurrying past and heading back to Jaehyun’s office. After giving a soft knock, you stepped inside.

Jaehyun had moved away from his desk, now seated on the couch in the corner of his office. He was typing away on his computer, still nursing the little coffee he had left that you had brought him earlier—a cup you knew he didn’t like, judging by the face he made when he first tasted it. His sleeves were rolled up, the tie discarded on the armrest, and the first button of his shirt was undone.

You tried not to stare, focusing instead on the mess at his desk. Moving over, you began cleaning up the sticky residue left by the spilled coffee.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat. “Is it okay if I drop this off at the cleaners?” you asked, holding up his soiled jacket.

He didn’t look up from his screen, continuing to type away on his computer. “Go ahead, but please be careful,” he replied, pulling his keys from his pocket without sparing you a glance.

“That’s okay; I can just walk. There’s one not too far from here,” you said, attempting to dismiss the need to take his car.

Finally, he looked up at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “You never had a problem with driving my car before. Did something happen?” He asked, setting his laptop aside, his focus entirely on you.

“Well, no, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I mean, I just kinda showed up out of nowhere and suddenly I’m moving into your office and driving your car,” you tried to explain, feeling your anxiety spike. “No one knows why I’m really here, and I can only imagine the types of things people are imagining.”

“What kind of things could they be imagining?” He replied, staring at you blankly.

You laugh at the statement but when you realize he's not being sarcastic, your face drops. You often wonder what kind of person Jaehyun was and what he did for fun. He always seemed to be looking at the world for the first time.

"Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “Imagining the types of things I would’ve had to do to get this job,” you said, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He waited quietly, eyes steady on you, prompting you to continue. “Things like sleeping with you to get this job,” you finally admitted, your heart racing as you vocalized the thought.

Jaehyun's eyes widened, and you noticed his ears reddening, making you wonder if he truly hadn’t known about the whispers circulating around the office. Clearing his throat, he seemed to collect himself.

“You don’t need to worry about things like that,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want you being gone long. Take the car, and if anyone has something to say, they can come to me about it.”

His gaze was stern, the kind that made you feel as though challenging him would be futile. You could sense the protective edge in his words, and it surprised you. There was a part of you that appreciated his willingness to shield you from the gossip. “Okay, if you insist,” you replied, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. The gesture felt surprisingly comforting. “I’ll be quick.”

He seemed to relax a little at your compliance, his expression softening. “Thank you. And, uh, drive safely,” he added, almost shyly.

As you walked to the car, you found yourself reflecting on his words. Maybe it was time to focus on proving yourself here, to rise above the whispers and make your mark in the company. Regardless of how you came to be in this position, you were determined to show them—and yourself—that you were worth it.

—

Ever since that day, when you arrived at the office, the halls were silent, and no one stared at you and Jaehyun as you walked side by side.. The building buzzed along like usual. You were relieved. Your shoulders felt lighter in the absence of judgmental glances, and instinctively, you walked a little straighter, head held high, eyes forward rather than downcast.

As you entered Jaehyun's office, you set your things down at the little desk he had allotted for you, diving into your daily routine of answering emails and organizing his meetings. You found your rhythm quickly, the morning shift feeling productive as you ticked off tasks. The sound of your typing filled the room, creating a comforting background noise.

Halfway through the shift, you stretched your arms overhead, stifling a yawn. Out of curiosity, you peeked over at Jaehyun to see how he was faring. He had leaned back in his chair, his neatly combed hair falling over his closed eyes, looking surprisingly peaceful in the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light danced around him, illuminating his desk, and for a moment, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful he looked.

Even after a month of working together, you still didn't know much about Jaehyun's personal life. You had gone over the basics: he lived alone, was single, and kept his family life largely private. Each interaction left you with more questions than answers, and you found yourself scratching your head at the blank spaces in your understanding of him.

You assumed that the high-ranking position had simply been handed down to him—a legacy passed through generations. But you had never heard any whispers about a preceding CEO or what led Jaehyun to take the helm.

Amidst the riddles, the only one you had solved was his coffee order: a no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot, plus three drip coffees with room for milk. It was a peculiar detail to cling to, yet it felt like a small piece of Jaehyun you could call your own, a little insight he had unknowingly shared during your numerous morning coffee runs.

Your thoughts whirled as you watched him sleep, a wave of warmth washing over you. It was strange how quickly you had grown accustomed to his presence and how much you found yourself wanting to know about the man behind the polished façade. What did he do on weekends? What made him laugh? What were his dreams and aspirations beyond this office?

Suddenly, he’s awake and staring back at you, and you stop smiling, turning to busy yourself. You clear your throat. “You have a meeting at 3 PM,” you mention, making an excuse.

“Thank you,” he responds.

He yawns and cracks his neck before standing from his desk. “We should go grab something to eat before then.”

You don't expect him to take you halfway across town; normally, you just grab him something from the cafe down the street. A bit apprehensive, you worry about making it back on time with the traffic ahead.

Silence engulfs the car as it inches through the congestion. Jaehyun sits relaxed in his seat, his thumb tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel as he looks ahead. You decide to kill the time with some conversation.

“How do you manage living in that large house all by yourself?” you ask, trying to chip away at the silence.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat. “You get used to it, I suppose. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”

“Yeah, but don’t you ever feel lonely? I mean, it’s a huge place. I can’t imagine wandering through all those empty rooms.”

He pauses, eyes still on the road. “Loneliness is…relative. I find solace in my work. It distracts me.”

“But work can only fill so much, right? Everybody needs someone sometimes.”

“Not everyone has someone to lean on, A. Sometimes it’s easier to just…keep to yourself.” Jaehyun looks over.

“I get that. I guess I’ve been on my own for a while too. Never really had a stable family or anything. Just me and the streets.”

“So, what was it like? Living like that?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“It was tough. You learn to be resourceful and to adapt. But it also gets exhausting.”

You had a rough upbringing; your parents were neglectful, and as soon as you turned 18, they kicked you out. You turned to the streets to get by, making connections with a few questionable figures, but they taught you what you needed to survive. Soon, you were taking care of yourself and hanging out with better crowds.

“Why don’t you talk about your family or friends? It feels like you’ve built up walls—like you’re living in that house, but you’re not really there,” you ask.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “It’s complicated. I’ve lost people—friends, family… When you start at the top, it’s hard to trust anyone. Everyone has their own agenda.”

You wince slightly at his words; of course he didn’t open up to you. Trust issues are understandable, especially after you tried to rob him.

“Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith and give people a chance. You never know who they might turn out to be,” you suggest gently.

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air, before responding with a nod of acknowledgment. As traffic finally begins to move, you turn to look out the window, watching the world blur by.

Eventually, the car pulls into a cozy little bakery nestled on a side street. The overgrown greenery surrounding it gives the place a charming, almost hidden feel. A LED sign in the window brightens the words “Doughyoungs.” Stepping inside, a small bell chimes, and the delectable aroma of freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug. Your mouth waters as you glance around.

The bakery is empty, but it exudes warmth and invites you further in. The display case is filled with tempting treats: crusty artisan breads, flaky croissants, colorful macarons, decadent cakes, and an assortment of cookies. Your heart feels lighter in this space; it seems like a hidden gem, the kind of place that just might feel like home.

“BE RIGHT WITH YOU!” a voice calls from the back of the shop. A tall man in a flour-dusted apron steps into the front room, wiping his hands on the fabric, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, Jaehyun! It’s been a while!” He steps closer, his tone filled with a sense of familiarity. “You brought a friend?”

You glance at the man’s name tag—Doyoung. It clicks; he must be the owner of the bakery.

“Yeah, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Jaehyun introduces, gesturing toward you. “And Y/N, this is Doyoung. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“His only friend,” Doyoung corrects with a playful wink before extending his hand toward you. “Nice to meet you!”

The three of you settle down at a small, round table in the corner of “Doughyoung’s,” sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the inviting atmosphere. A warm plate of croissants sits in the center of the table as Doyoung pours steaming cups of coffee for you and Jaehyun.

You reach for a flaky croissant, the buttery aroma enveloping you. You’ve just met Doyoung, but your instant fondness for him grows as he recounts hilarious stories about Jaehyun, leaving you wiping a tear from the corner of your eye at one particularly embarrassing tale.

“How long have you two been friends?” you ask, still chuckling.

“We go way back to college,” Doyoung replies, a reminiscent smile on his face. “We were both fresh out of high school, and honestly, we couldn’t have been more different. He was this focused, ambitious guy trying to conquer the world, while I was just… well, trying to figure things out.”

You nod, picturing the difference between the two of them. “What about you?” Doyoung adds, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How did you manage to land such a serious guy as your boss?”

You stuff your mouth with croissants, desperately trying to think of an answer that isn’t a lie.

“Sorry to cut story time short, but I have a meeting at 3,” he says, finishing his coffee and rising to push in his chair. You follow suit, a little relieved that your escape has come so soon. Doyoung was kind and you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, but you couldn't exactly tell him you had attempted to rob his best friend.

“It was really nice to meet you, Doyoung,” you wave goodbye, offering a genuine smile as you shuffle out after Jaehyun.

Doyoung smiles and waves as you leave, his infectious energy lingering in the air. The drive back is quiet, but this time, the silence feels different—more comfortable. The gentle hum of the engine and the sounds of the outside world fade into the background as you steal glances at Jaehyun, who remains focused on the road ahead.

—

Since you started working with Jaehyun, today was probably the first time that everything seemed to go your way. You even managed to finish your tasks early. As you straighten up your desk, gathering papers and tidying the space, you’re on your way out when he walks in, his expression curious.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, making his way toward his own desk.

“Yeah, I finished up early,” you reply, grabbing your bag. “I was just going to catch the bus home.”

He nods, pausing for a moment. “Did you organize that pile of paperwork I gave you?”

“All organized and labeled,” you confirm, a sense of pride swelling in your chest.

“What about that email I sent you to look over? Did you make sure everything was in order for that conference?”

“Done and scheduled,” you say, feeling accomplished.

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something more, as if he’s searching for another reason to keep you there. “Well, if you’re finished, we can head out together,” he suggests, beginning to pack his briefcase.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a hint of hesitation in your voice. “If there’s something you need to finish up here, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I can finish it at home,” he replies, already standing and heading toward the door.

You share a brief glance, and there’s something in his demeanor that tells you he genuinely wants your company. You can’t help but smile as you follow him outside.

When you get back to Jaehyun's house, you expect him to finally let you off the hook, but instead, he keeps you around a little longer. He finds minuscule tasks for you to do while he works in his study—organizing his files, dusting the bookshelf, separating his pens by color—anything to keep you in his office with him.

“Jaehyun,” you yawn, stretching your arms overhead. “I’ve done everything! I’ve even organized your books by the Dewey Decimal System. I think it’s time for me to head home.” You really don’t mind Jaehyun’s company at all; in fact, you enjoy being around him. Plus, every task you handle for him counts toward the debt you owe, but it’s getting late, and the last thing you want is for him to fuss about you driving home in the dark.

He glances around the room, searching for another task to assign you, but all he finds is a sigh of resignation. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay over?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned. “There are plenty of rooms for you. It’s getting late, and you seem really tired. I don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel.” He closes his laptop, giving you his full attention.

You think it over. Spending a night in his mansion feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. Staying here is akin to a luxury hotel experience. You weigh the pros and cons in your mind, but then a concern arises. “I don’t have any extra clothes,” you say.

“You can wear mine,” Jaehyun offers, and your face heats up at the prospect of slipping into one of his shirts—an oversized garment that would probably swallow you whole.

“I guess that would save me the commute of having to drive back over here in the morning.”

You can’t help but smile back, finding his stubbornness endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize he might be holding onto you not out of obligation but rather because he enjoys your company. After all, he’s been doing everything in his power to keep you around, perhaps because he is alone most of the time. You’d probably become the closest person to him after Doyoung.

"Well, if that's all, I'm going to go get in the shower,” you say.

“Ill meet you upstairs, I just want to finish this up,” he says

You head upstairs, navigating your way to Jaehyun's room with an ease that comes from having spent so much time in his space. You step into the bathroom connected to his room and turn on the shower, relishing the luxurious feel of the gold dual heads—it’s almost like being in a spa.

As the warm water envelops you, the stresses of the day wash away. The towels are fresh and warm as you step out, feeling utterly pampered. You can't help but marvel at the abundance of skincare products lined up on the counter, likely a key contributor to Jaehyun's flawless complexion. After cleansing your face and brushing your teeth with an unopened toothbrush you found in his bathroom pantry.

Peeking your head out of the bathroom door, you confirm that the coast is clear. With nothing but your towel wrapped around you, you make your way toward his closet. As you rummage through his clothes, memories flood back to the first time you were here—a completely different feeling, one of nerves and uncertainty. Little did you know that you’d be invited back as a guest, spending the night in his company.

Finally, you find a large shirt that looks incredibly comfortable and toss it over your head. Pairing it with some pajama pants that are a bit loose around your hips, you tie them with the strings, feeling cozy and at ease.

With a determined smile, you head back downstairs, wanting to say goodnight to Jaehyun. As you enter his study, though, you find him fast asleep, his head resting on a pile of documents. His hair is pushed back by a pair of glasses you haven't seen before, and you can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. You never realized how taxing it must be for him to carry the weight of the company on his shoulders.

Gently, you shake him awake. “Jaehyun, come on, let’s go to sleep,” you whisper softly.

His eyes open slowly, taking a moment to adjust as he rubs them and slides his glasses back on. Confusion flits across his face before recognition sets in, and he begins to put his things away, a little disorientedly, but it makes you chuckle lightly.

You watch him for a moment, your heart swelling with fondness. You wish you could do something to help him relax—an idea pops into your mind. “I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” you say before darting back up the stairs.

You run a warm bath; you make sure to adjust the water to just the right temperature. Bubbles foam up and you lay out his clothes neatly on the counter—a clean, comfy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, paired with some fresh socks. The soft tune playing from a speaker fills the air, adding to the calming ambiance.

You hear the heavy footsteps of Jaehyun making their way up the stairs, and you work quickly, eager to ensure everything is perfect for him. When the door finally opens, he lumbers into the room, flopping onto the bed still clad in his work clothes.

“Come on, I ran you a bath,” you coax, gently taking off his glasses and tugging him up from the bed. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn’t resist, letting you guide him toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes are right here,” you say, pointing out the set you prepared for him. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

As you start to step away, eager to give him some privacy, he unexpectedly grabs your wrist. His grip is gentle yet firm, and he turns you back to face him. The air is thick with tension as he pushes you up against the sink.

“Help me undress,” he says sleepily, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes—a sight that makes your heart race. You’re practically chest to chest, and the proximity sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Your face heats up and you find yourself a stuttering mess. Jaehyun seems to realize what his words imply “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he fumbles, suddenly a little more awake. “Excuse me, I’m just really tired.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him quickly, your cheeks ablaze. “I want to help you relax. I can do that.”

He looks down at you, and you briefly meet his gaze before you shyly avert your eyes. As your hands shake, you manage to unbutton his shirt one by one, the fabric parting to reveal flawless skin beneath. He stands there, shirt completely undone, his gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you find yourself captivated by his happy trail, your knees feeling weak beneath you. Jaehyun’s hands gracefully move to his belt, taking charge of the moment. You watch, entranced, as he slowly removes it, each movement deliberate and inviting. Your heart races in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out the soft music still playing in the background. You could practically feel the air thickening between you—a magnetic pull that makes you want to fall to your knees for him—to surrender.

His belt clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet bathroom, but then a hand catches under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. You’re drawn into the depths of his eyes, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “I’ve got it from here, thank you,” he says, his voice low and confident.

Reality crashes over you like a wave, pulling you back with a jolt. You process the situation: Jaehyun standing before you, his pants hanging loosely around his waist, his shirt sliding from his shoulders. Heat floods your cheeks.

In a rush, you scramble out of the bathroom, the words tumbling from your lips in a hurried mess. “R—right, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Good night, Jaehyun!” You don’t dare look back, your heart racing as you leave the bathroom, and you swear you hear a deep chuckle escape him, warm and teasing.

You slip into the bedroom across the hall, the plush bed feeling foreign and oddly comforting at the same time. You let out a heavy sigh, shaking off the feelings that swirled between you two.

The silence of the house wraps around you. It’s an odd comfort, yet it amplifies the sense of isolation that looms over you. You stare at the clock on the nightstand, ticking slowly towards the early hours of the morning. You toss and turn under the covers, unable to settle. Thoughts of Jaehyun haunt you—thoughts of the way he looked, the way he made you feel—the anticipation, the nervousness. You cover your face with the pillow in an attempt to silence your racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a soft but loud crash reverberates through the house, breaking the stillness. You sit upright, heart pounding in your chest. A sense of dread settles in as you carve your way through the shadows, crossing the hall to Jaehyun’s room.

“Jaehyun?” You call softly, knocking gently on the door, but it creaks open at your touch, revealing a scene that makes your breath hitch. Jaehyun is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled; his face pales from what you can only assume was a nightmare. There’s sweat glistening on his forehead, and you can see the stark tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, what happened?” You take a step in, closing the door behind you.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I just—I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.” He waves you off, but you can see the unsteadiness in his demeanor.

“No, it’s not nothing,” you assert, walking closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You can talk to me.”

His eyes meet yours—a fleeting vulnerability. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you say softly.

“I dreamed about… losing my family. It’s a nightmare I’ve had more times than I can count.” He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you can see the pain that runs deep.

You quietly urge him on, your heart thrumming within your chest. “What happened?”

He swallows hard before continuing. “I used to live here, in this house, with my family. It was our summar home. Life was chaotic but… it was fun. My parents were always busy with the company, but they made time for us. Then…it just all fell apart.”

You can hear the tremor in his voice, the unsteady strength behind each word. “There was an accident,” he finally admits, his brow furrowing as if the very thought is a wound that never heals. “A car crash that took them away from me in an instant. I inherited everything. This houses the company and the money. Sometimes I feel like an imposter, like I’m not good enough for all of this. It helps that there are fewer memories here. Its emptier.”

Your heart aches for him, the stark reality of his loss weighing heavily in the air. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” you whisper, feeling a surge of compassion for the boy he once was. You couldn't imagine how alone he felt. The weight of an entire company thrust upon him at such a young age. You understand why he found it hard to let people in.

“It’s been years,” he continues, “but every now and then, I wake up in a cold sweat, feeling their absence like it was yesterday. Sometimes Its so bad I won't sleep at all.”

You step closer and sit beside him on the bed, your heart aching to comfort him. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to feel. You deserve to express that pain instead of bottling it up.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of your own past pressing against your chest. It feels only right to share your truth with Jaehyun now that he’s opened up about his own pain. “I get it, you know—feeling like you’re not enough. I felt that way growing up too,” you begin, your voice steady yet soft as you look into his eyes. “I didn’t have the stability of a family like yours. My parents were often absent, lost in their own world, and I was left to navigate everything on my own. I longed for connection.”

You pause, letting your words sink in. A part of you feels apprehensive, but telling your story also feels liberating. “I did meet some friends along the way. They were a bit snobby, but I loved them. They were everything I wanted to be—popular, carefree, surrounded by laughter. I wanted to fit in so badly that I was willing to do just about anything to be part of their world.”

Jaehyun nods, his gaze understanding as he absorbs your story. You take another breath, your heart racing slightly as you reveal more of your past. “I started to steal. Not just to survive, because there were times when I truly needed food, but mostly to impress them. To show them I could be just as cool, just as daring. Those friends were all I had, and I felt like I was grasping at straws. I never wanted to feel alone again.”

As you speak, you can see the pain in Jaehyun's eyes—he understands the need to connect, the lengths people go to feel accepted. “Most of the time, I felt like a fraud. Like I was pretending to be something I’m not. Their world wasn’t mine, but it was better than being alone. I guess in some way, I thought being with them would fill the emptiness, but it never did.”

“I know what it feels like to wear a mask,” he says, his tone gentle yet earnest. “It’s exhausting isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a small but relieved smile creeping onto your face. “But sharing it feels freeing. I think that’s why I wanted to tell you. Seeing you so vulnerable made me realize that maybe it’s okay to let myself be seen, too.”

Jaehyun reaches out, tentatively placing his hand over yours. It’s a small gesture, but it ignites warmth where your hands connect, sending a comforting pulse between you.

But just as the moment deepens, a loud crack of thunder rumbles outside, reverberating through the walls, making the lights flicker. A flash of lightning illuminates Jaehyun’s startled expression, momentarily freezing both of you in place until you’re instinctively drawn closer. A storm rages outside.

“Let’s… let’s just stay like this, okay?” You murmur, catching his gaze before looking down at your joined hands. “Just for tonight.”

He nods slowly, the tension shifting into something more profound. You slide under the covers beside him, and even though there’s a noticeable space between you, his warmth envelops you. The moment sinks into something intimate, something that goes beyond the mere physical closeness or the warmth of shared body heat.

— Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you hesitate before answering an unknown number. But curiosity compels you to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been?” The voice on the other end drips with annoyance. Taeyong. Just hearing him makes your stomach churn. It's a voice you've been avoiding, one you hoped you'd never have to hear again. It reminds you too much of the past your trying to forget.

You bite your lip, your gaze flickering nervously around the bustling cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, and the air buzzes with chatter as people gather at tables. Jaehyun is tied up in a meeting, leaving you surrounded by a few friends who have become a surprising source of comfort. You've been at the company long enough now that the initial gossip has faded, allowing you to forge genuine connections beyond just your complicated relationship with Jaehyun.

You cover your phone as you pull it down from your ear and mouth a quick sorry to your friends as you make your way somewhere else secluded.

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” you murmur, moving away to a quieter corner.

“A bad time? You've been ghosting us for weeks! We have a big job lined up and need you back,” he says, impatience slicing through his tone.

“I told you, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m in a good place. I can’t mess this up,” you reply, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

He scoffs, a sound that irritates you more than it should. “You think you can just bail on us? When we had your back when no one else did?”

His words resonate, stirring unwanted memories. They taught you everything you know about survival.

“Without us, you’d be scraping by,” he adds with a cocky lilt that grates your nerves.

“What do you need me for?” You huff.

“A quick job. In and out. Johnny’s got his eyes on this jewelry store. Thinks it’ll impress some girl he’s crushing on,” he explains, the casual tone in his voice only making you more uneasy.

“A jewelry store? Are you serious? You know that’s risky,” you almost yell before you remember where you are.

“Yeah, well, the guy’s moving across the globe. Apparently, his heart is in Vegas or something. Listen, you owe us. Let’s call this your last job before Johnny bails.” He says.

You pause, weighing your options. You knew how persistent these guys could get and you didn’t need them digging too deep into what you’ve been up to. If they found out about Jaehyun, your not sure what they would scheme.

“If I do this, you lose my number. Don’t ever contact me again. I appreciate everything you guys did for me, but I’m trying to move on.” Your voice is firm.

“Great to have you back, princess. I’ll send over the details,” he says before hanging up.

Your hands were shaking and you could feel your throat close up as tears began to well in your eyes. You wanted to cry. You lean against a wall, trying to calm your breathing.

You could always ask Jaehyun for the money; whatever Johnny was looking to score from the jewelry store, Jaehyun could match it; the only issue is you already owe him enough and Taeyong would definitely ask you where you got such a large sum of money.

You could not get Jaehyun involved. You didn't want him mixed up in any of this. This was your problem, your past, that you had to fix.

You tilt your head back, trying to will the tears away. If Jaehyun found out—Jaehyun couldn't find out.

You try to act normal when you head back up to Jaehyun's office. You bury yourself in paperwork and emails as an excuse for how unnaturally quiet you were today. You couldn't avoid him all day, though.

“How was lunch” he asks after returning from his meeting.

You don't turn to acknowledge him; instead, you give him a “it was good” before returning to your work. He doesn't comment on how quiet you have been but you definitely see it in his eyes that he wants to. He walks to his desk without another word. He knows when to give you space and probably figured now was one of those times.

—

You were making mistakes again. The chaos of the office felt louder than ever as you stumbled through the busy halls, your arms full of files that seemed to have a mind of their own. Papers slipped from your grasp, fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves as you scrambled to collect them, heart racing as you barely managed to avoid having someone step on the important documents.

The printer was your sworn enemy today; it jammed at the worst possible moment, leaving you flustered and anxiously trying to free the stuck sheets while praying no one noticed your struggle. You were constantly tripping over your own feet, rushing back and forth, trying to juggle tasks that felt increasingly overwhelming.

Jaehyun's eyes lingered on you longer than usual, suspicion bubbling just beneath the surface. He could let a few things slide, but it was clear he was picking up on the fact that something wasn’t right.

Finally, you excused yourself, heart pounding as you left for the bathroom. Clutching your phone tightly, it buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop. You glanced down and read:

[Meet us at xxx on Sunday at 3 AM].

This was it—tonight would be the night.

You quickly composed a response, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. As you headed back to the office, you tried to shake off the brewing anxiety. With every step, you reminded yourself that soon, after tonight, you wouldn’t have to hide anything else from Jaehyun. After tonight, everything could go back to normal.

You had packed a small duffel bag. Its contents reminded you of the significance of the night ahead. Dressed in all black, you made your way to Taeyong's place, the night air cool against your skin. As you arrived, the tension in your stomach twisted tighter when you saw Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta waiting for you.

“Hey.” you greeted, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You joined them, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as you went over the plan, going through every detail. The stakes were high; robbing businesses was far more complex than the petty house break-ins of the past. There was far more security to navigate this time, and your palms began to sweat at the thought of what would happen if you got caught.

“Stop overthinking it,” Johnny said, flashing you a reassuring smile as he finished loading the last item into the car. “It’s gonna be just like old times.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is the last time,” you declared, shooting a look at the back of Taeyong's head as he settled into the driver’s seat but you couldn’t stop the thrill that snuck into your heart. There was a small part of you that loved this thrill, loved the challenge that the night would bring

Johnny slid into the passenger seat, and Yuta hopped in beside you in the back. “I understand if you don’t want to steal, but we’re still family,” Yuta said, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t forget that, no matter what happens.

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, a storm of emotions battling within you. You knew you were being cold towards them, shutting off parts of yourself that had always been open to them. They were your everything before Jaehyun came into your life, your partners in crime and laughter, and now you felt sickness coil in your stomach at the thought of discarding them for something that might not even last.

You bit back tears, feeling the sharp sting of regret and longing. One part of you mourned the life you were desperately trying to hold onto—the stability, the calm, everything that came with Jaehyun. The other half grieved for the carefree moments you’d shared with Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta and for the friendships that felt more like family than anything else.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” you finally managed to say, your voice wavering as you fought to steady it. “Let this be it for all of us.” Your words hung in the air.

“Y/N…” Yuta began, an understanding between all of you that couldn’t be voiced.

“Please,” you interrupted softly, desperation coloring your tone as you looked from one familiar face to the other. “I don’t want anything happening to you guys.”

Silence settled in the car. No one answered you; there were no reassurances to offer, no words that could change the precarious situation you were all in. They couldn’t up and leave this life and you knew it.

As Taeyong turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, breaking the stillness. You glanced out the window, taking in the familiar streets you had navigated countless times, the memories flooding back.

—

The blaring alarms pierced the night like a siren's wail as you moved to grab one more bag full of jewelry. Every clang of metal against metal made your stomach churn. Your hands were shaking, and as you tossed another bag over to Yuta, you felt a sense of disgust washing over you. How had it come to this? You stuffed your feelings deep down and concentrated on the task at hand—the only thing you could control. Yuta caught the bag and hurried it to the car, urgency fueling every movement.

Then came the wailing of sirens that sent a jolt of panic through your body. The familiar blue and red lights flickered on the walls of the alley as they crept closer, and your heart raced faster.

“Out now! GO!” Taeyong shouted, urgency slicing through the chaos. You hurled yourself into the car just as the engine roared to life, Taeyong hitting the gas pedal with a force that slammed you back against the seat. Your head twisted around, searching for any sign of the approaching police cars. Relief washed over you when you didn’t see their flashing lights right behind you—yet.

Then, terror gripped you as a police car roared around the corner, lights ablaze, barreling towards you.

“We’re not going to make it!” You cried out, panic rising in your chest like bile.

“Shut up! Let me think!” Taeyong snapped back, his voice sharp and focused.

With skill, he made a sharp left turn and then another, weaving through the streets as your heart thundered in your ears. The fear began to lift, the thrill of escape practically intoxicating, until the dreaded sight of the police car revealed itself again, like a predator stalking prey.

He maneuvered the car swiftly into a dark alleyway, the bright streetlights fading behind you, swallowed by the inky shadows of the narrow passage.

“Get out!” Taeyong shouted suddenly, and you whipped your head around to look at him, wide-eyed, disbelief painted across your face.

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, your pulse racing even faster. The alleyway loomed dark and empty beyond the car.

“What are you—” Yuta started to say, confusion evident in his voice.

“I’ll lead them away; just go!” Taeyong insisted, urgency etched deep into his words. “We don’t have time!”

You knew if he was caught, he would never snitch—Taeyong was loyal, he would take the fall for you without a second thought. But the prospect of him behind bars was more upsetting than you'd ever anticipated.

“That wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” you murmured, helpless, as Johnny dragged you along through the darkness. You struggled to comprehend what was happening through the haze of tears obscuring your vision. Out of instinct, you pulled off your mask and dark jacket, tossing them into a nearby trash bin.

With your heads down, you walked in silence, the distant sirens haunting the air. It wasn’t long until Kun, Yuta’s friend, pulled up to a nearby park to pick you all up.

You didn't go home that night. Instead, you ended up at Chenle's place. He didn’t ask any questions when he saw your tear-stained cheeks; he simply pulled you inside and set about making some tea to soothe your frayed nerves. Chenle was always the one who understood you the most.

Tonight, the weight of secrets felt heavier than ever. You couldn’t keep it all inside any longer. As you sank onto his couch, the dam broke, and you began to tell Chenle everything—from the very beginning to the events of the night. Sobs wracked your body as you relayed the tale, the guilt and shame spilling out with each word.

You were a liar, a thief, a fake.

Chenle sat in silence for a moment, absorbing your confession. He let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat, your teary eyes tracking him as he rummaged through his cupboard.

“We’re gonna need something stronger than tea tonight,” he said, pouring you a shot.

—

When you wake up the next day, a piercing headache pounds through your skull. You had fallen asleep on Chenle’s couch. Blinking against the sunlight filtering in, you glance around the large living space and spot Chenle sprawled on the other end of the couch, still blissfully asleep.

Rummaging around the couch cushions, your fingers finally brush against your phone. You remember that you powered it down last night, a decision made during the chaos of emotions. You turn it back on, the screen lighting up and revealing a barrage of messages.

YUTA [taeyong got away last night] [Just keep your head down and we should be fine]

JOHNNY [TY PULLED THROUGH LET'S GO!]

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. “Selfish bastard.” you think, feeling a stir of resentment alongside the relief.

JAEHYUN [are you coming into work today?] [are you hurt?] [if your sick i can bring you something] [call me when you can]

You wince at the notification count—Jaehyun had called you at least five times this morning

Just then, Daegal, Chenle’s dog, leaps onto the couch, nudging your leg. Chenle stirs awake, cracking an eye open, squinting against the bright light that seeps into the living room.

“Taeyong was able to get away somehow,” you inform him quietly.

“Don’t know whether I should be happy or upset about that,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m sorry about lying, and I’m sorry for bothering you, but this was the only place I knew to come.” You let out a heavy sigh, tossing your phone down on the coffee table.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not upset that you lied,” Chenle says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I understand what you were going through, and if that’s how you made ends meet, I won’t judge you for it.” He stretches and yawns, then narrows his eyes playfully at you. “What I am mad about is the fact that you’ve been seeing a hot CEO and didn’t tell me about it!”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his playful reprimand. At least you wouldn’t lose your best friend. You crawl toward him on the couch and envelop him in a warm hug. “I love you,” you smother him with affection.

You sit across the table from Chenle, a steaming plate of breakfast in front of you. As you tell him everything about your relationship with Jaehyun—the sweet moments, the little things that made you blush—it feels like a breath of fresh air. It takes you back to those late-night gossip sessions in high school, a sense of comfort washing over you. For that brief moment, you felt like yourself again, like the world around you wasn't being held together by a single string.

But soon reality creeps back in. You check the time and realize you can’t put off Jaehyun's calls any longer.

[im ok]

[where have you been?]

[Can we meet?]

[i can meet you at home]

Your heart clenches at the word ‘home.’ You aren’t sure when you two became this close, but the thought of lying to Jaehyun anymore feels unbearable.

As you approach the house, a heavy silence envelops you. It’s eerily quiet; the only sound is the faint shuffle of papers filtering in from Jaehyun’s study. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead.

You clear your throat, your voice slightly shaky. “Hey,” you announce, trying to keep your tone steady.

Jaehyun looks up, his expression distant and unreadable. “Where have you been?” he asks, setting aside the documents that had consumed his attention. Frustration flickers across his face as he stands and closes the distance between you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the muscles evident even beneath the wrinkled fabric of his work clothes, a testament to the long day he’s had.

He leans back slightly against his desk, exuding a mix of authority and weariness. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, casting a shadow over his eyes and intensifying his gaze as he studies you, waiting for an answer that feels heavy in the air

“I was at a friend’s,” you reply, your words catching slightly in your throat.

“Why weren’t you answering my calls? What’s been going on with you lately?” His voice is firm, perhaps too firm, sounding too much like your boss, and you can feel your irritation simmer.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve just been taking care of some business,” you mumble, but it feels inadequate.

“You need to let me know if you’re not going to show up!” he says, and you can see the frustration etching lines across his forehead. But beneath that, there’s something else—something more worried.

“Is this all I am to you? Just another one of your employees you have to keep track of,” you challenge, the heat of your annoyance flaring. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up to work, Mr. Jung!” You spit his name like it’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Don't do that. I was worried about you!” He snaps back, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern.

“I just needed some time!” You fire back, defending yourself but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Time for what? I’ve been giving you time! Time to text, time to leave, time to make calls to whoever it is you’ve been talking to,” he replies, the edge in his voice sharpening with jealousy.

“Why do you even care who I talk to?”

His lips are on yours in an instant and he kisses you for the first time. You can feel his anger, frustration, and annoyance at you through the way he kisses you. It was as though the heavens had opened and a lightning strike had struck you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. The kiss was electrifying, sending waves of warmth cascading down your spine, and you felt as if your lips were two magnets with an irresistible force drawing them together. The kiss is harsh, and your teeth clink together as you kiss him back with just as much heat. Everything that had been boiling within you—the frustration, fear, and anxiety—pours out as you let it all go. Your fingers pull at his hair, and you bite at his lips. His hands grip your hips roughly, like he's barely holding himself back from breaking you. He pulls you against him, and you can feel him hard through his slacks.

The tension in the room was high, and when it snapped, it was like the barriers that you both worked hard to keep up around each other had fallen.

He switches positions with you, pushing you up against his desk as he kisses down your neck. You have half the mind to be mindful of the things that litter his desk, trying not to knock anything over as his hands explore your body. He senses your hesitation and clears his desk with a swipe of his arm, not breaking the kiss in his haste. You moan into his mouth as he lays you down flat against his desk.

“Who have you been texting?” he asks, his chest heaving. You knew it must have been eating him up over the past few days.

“It was no one. I’ll explain later, just don’t stop,” you whine and pull him back to your lips.

Your fingers start working at the pesky buttons of his shirt. You try to work them one by one, but only get half way before you give up. You slide the fabric half way down his shoulders.

You run your hands down his back, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your palms. His hands move to your shirt, pulling it over your head with ease. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, causing you to arch your back involuntarily. He pulls your bra open, the fabric falling away to reveal your breasts. His mouth descends on one nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive nub as his hand cups the other breast, squeezing gently. His tongue circles your nipple, teasing and tormenting until you’re practically begging for release. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. His thick fingers pinch and tug at your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that elicit moans from your lips. You’re soaking wet, and it’s not hard for him to slip his fingers inside your tight pussy.

Your eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated, like he’s lost in pleasing you. His fingers pump into you at a steady pace, and your thighs spread wide for him, giving him complete access to you. His hand presses against your abdomen as he curls his fingers inside you. He wants you to feel it.

“Say you’re mine,” he commands. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” your voice trembles, and you can feel your stomach clench with how close you are. Your back arches as you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down and attaches his mouth to your clit as he fingers you, and that’s all you need before you’re cumming all over his fingers. He continues to suck and lick at you until you’re pushing at his head to stop.

Once you have caught your breath, you pull your clothes back on as a heavy silence engulfs the room. You know you need to tell him the truth. You need to tell him what happened.

“I robbed a jewelry store.” You say as he helps you down from his desk.

He freezes, eyes widening in disbelief. “You did what?”

“There’s nothing to worry about! It’s over, okay? I just didn’t want to lie to you anymore,” you say defensively.

“Are you serious? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this! It was my past that got me here. I can’t rely on you to fix everything for me,” you explain.

“But you were the one who taught me not to bear it all alone!” he counters, hurt flashing in his eyes.

“Not this Jae, I couldn't drag you into this. I care about you way too much”

“And you think I don’t care about you? You throw yourself into trouble like it’s nothing, and you want me to just forget it? Tell me what really happened.” His gaze is piercing, demanding honesty.

You tell him everything.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I didn’t want our lives to cross paths like this. I thought I could leave that stuff behind but they kept reaching out. It was just one last job, and I thought I could handle it.”

“You should have told me. I could have helped,” he says, brow crinkling in frustration.

“I was scared,” you admit, stepping closer to him. “Scared that getting you involved would get you hurt.”

Jaehyun sighs deeply, processing what you’ve just shared. “No more secrets, okay? You need to promise me that.”

—

The way your life had fallen into rhythm with Jaehyuns was scary; you couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when this arrangement finally came to an end. You found yourself practically living in his home, spending almost every day together. You cherished the moments you shared working side by side. Each laugh, each quiet evening, felt like a treasure you never wanted to lose. Still, you understood that, like everything else, even the best things must eventually come to an end. You just hoped that day would remain far off.

Unfortunately, today was that day. After the countless hours you’d spent with Jaehyun, both on and off the clock, you had officially repaid your debt. Of course, your coworkers gathered around the dinner table at the prestigious restaurant had no idea. They believed you were simply celebrating your one-year anniversary. You forced a smile; would they still see it as a celebration if they knew the full story behind your relationship with Jaehyun?

The atmosphere in the restaurant was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the delicious aroma of carefully prepared dishes. As the celebrations for your one-year anniversary at the company unfolded around you, a wave of anxiety gnawed at your insides. You had worked hard for this moment, but all you could think about was what came next. You glanced down the table, where Jaehyun sat, a warm smile plastered on his face as he engaged in conversation with your coworkers, but he hadn’t looked your way once.

It was a stark contrast to the intimacy that you two shared. He didn’t bring up that night. He didn't bring up how he made you promise that you were his. For awhile, you thought you had just imagined it all but you could feel the shift in your dynamic. His touches lingering a little longer and the way his eyes wandered to you when he thought you weren't looking.

You find yourself looking back on your relationship with Jaehyun. Surprisingly, Jaehyun wasn’t the cold, distant person you first encountered; now, he trailed after you like a loyal puppy, and there was something sweetly comforting in the role reversal. You remembered how he had seemed so vast and imposing on your first day at the company, while you had followed him around like a lost puppy trying to match his stride. Now, as you walked through the hallways with your head held high, Jaehyun was the one keeping pace behind you, as if he feared losing you.

But as you looked at him now, across the expanse of the table, he felt miles away. The realization that the debt you owed him was fully paid loomed over you, casting a shadow that threatened to eclipse the joy of the evening. What would happen after tonight? How would your relationship change? You couldn’t shake the nagging fear that everything you had built together might soon unravel.

The cake arrived, beautifully adorned and lit with candles, drawing enthusiastic cheers from your coworkers. Jaehyun raised a glass to toast the moment, and when he glanced around, his eyes skated over you without recognition. You blinked, a pang of hurt lacing through you as the reality of it all settled in.

After the dinner wound down and laughter faded into the background, Jaehyun drove you back home—well, to his house. The silence hung between you like a tightrope, and it was nearly suffocating. Once inside the house, the familiar warmth enveloped you.

Finally, unable to contain your feelings, you broke the silence. “Jaehyun,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Why have you been so quiet tonight?”

He paused, fingers brushing through his hair as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The flickering light above cast shadows across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. “I—” he hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor, “I know your probably getting ready to leave since the debt is paid and I guess I was just preparing myself for that”

Your heart raced. “Is that why you haven’t brought up that night in your office?”

"I just didn’t want to grow more attached than I already am. I thought if I could pretend that night never happened, it would hurt less when you left.” He takes a deep breath as he searches your face for the right words to say. “I want you to stay with me. I know you’ve paid me back for everything… but I need you to understand that I want you in my life for reasons that go far beyond debt.” He took a breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. “I care about you. More than you know.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaehyun. I'm not going anywhere you don’t want me to,” you say, stepping closer to him and cupping his face.

Jaehyun reached up, touching the hand that was caressing his face. “Then let’s stop pretending that all this is just transactional. I want something real.” The sincerity in his gaze melted your worries away, replacing them with something brighter, something full of possibility.

When he leans down to kiss you, your fingers caress his cheeks, memorizing the contours as you breathe in the essence of him. His hands roamed over your hips, exploring with an urgency that both thrilled and comforted you. The way they eventually tangled into your hair was possessive, a silent promise that he wasn't going to let you go.

Your bodies pressed together tightly and with every passing second, the kiss grew hotter, needier, and wetter as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You panted softly, surrendering to him, allowing him to take over completely, losing yourself in him.

As the fervor of the moment intensified, you felt his hands traveling back down to your hips. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself being lifted off your feet. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring yourself as he backed you up against a nearby wall. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between your bodies.

The makeout session became heavier and more desperate as passion consumed you both. Each kiss felt like a promise, filled with hunger and longing, as if you were trying to convey everything that words could never fully express. Finally, as your lungs burn for air, you part, a thin string of saliva connecting you.

The way he looked at you suggested a man starved—and that only fueled your desire to explore him further. As his hips rocked against yours, a low moan escaped your lips, the friction backing your toes curl. You welcomed his touch and his kisses but you wanted more. You wanted to take your time, savoring each curve and contour of each other’s bodies.

His face nestled in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers racing down your spine. A dampness was forming in your panties, an exhilarating rush that clouded your thoughts. Gathering the courage, you gently tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to break the spell that enveloped you both.

He lifted his head, planting soft kisses along your neck, climbing up to press a tender peck against your lips. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes holding a raw sincerity that made you forget the world around you. “Should we stop?” he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

“It’s not that,” you replied, your breath coming in soft gasps as you regained your composure. “I just want to move to the bedroom.”

You expected him to set you down for a moment, but instead a gasp slipped from your lips as he tightened his grip. He effortlessly began to ascend the opulent winding staircase. The walls were adorned with portraits, their painted eyes following your every movement, as if they were witnesses to this unfolding moment. Rich mahogany railings glimmered under the soft light of the chandelier.

You felt like a princess from a fairytale, swept away on a wave of romance and fantasy as he carried you up the staircase. Yet, amidst the enchantment, a small knot of doubt tightened in your chest—a complicated mix of guilt and disbelief. You don’t deserve this, you thought, battling the insistent voice in your head. This isn’t your life.

This dreamlike encounter with Jaehyun, who seemed to embody the very essence of Prince Charming, felt almost too good to be true—like a scene plucked straight from a storybook. The way he held you, the intensity of his gaze, and the atmosphere were intoxicating. But hessitation tugged at you, casting shadows over the light of your fairy tale.

As he gently set you down on the edge of his bed, Jaehyun kneeled before you. He looked up, his deep eyes searching yours as if trying to read the secrets hidden within.

“What’s wrong, pretty?” he asked, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a protective embrace. His hands enveloped yours, thumb stroking over your skin in a languid, comforting rhythm.

You forced a smile, desperate to maintain the illusion of this fairytale moment, but you knew better than to lie to him. Jaehyun had a way of seeing through your facades, as if he had developed some sixth sense when it came to understanding you. The light in his eyes flickered, a mix of concern and curiosity, as he waited for you to speak.

This was all so surreal—when the world outside seemed so turbulent, here he was, the embodiment of calm and acceptance. But as much as you tried to bask in this moment, the shadows of your past crept in, reminding you of who you once were.

“About that night…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, throat tightening. Sudden shame washed over you like a cold wave. “I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve all of this.

Jaehyun’s gaze softened, and he leaned in closer, brows furrowing slightly in concern. “Everyone has a past. What matters is who you choose to be now.” he said gently, as if unfurling your tightly wound shame with each word.

“But I’m a thief, Jaehyun… I tried to steal from you. I lied and even robbed a bank” The admission hung in the air.

“I don’t see a thief when I look at you; I see someone who has struggled but is capable of so much more. Someone I care about.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

You looked down at him, finally meeting his gaze, and in that moment, you saw a man who would stop time for you if he could, who would pause the world just to shield you from its harshness.

He was your man.

Without a second thought, you leaned in and pulled him into another kiss, the warmth between you igniting once more, filling the room with an undeniable heat. He broke away for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before he gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you. In one swift motion, he tossed you onto the middle of the soft, inviting bed.

You bounced with a delighted laugh, the sound echoing through the air as you playfully crawled back toward the headboard, an exhilarated sparkle dancing in your eyes.

Jaehyun crawls to you and you tug off your blouse before he reaches you. It was like he couldn't keep his mouth off of you. He kisses the bare skin of your chest and stomach as his hands toy with the button on the dress pants you wore at dinner. He tugs them down your legs until your only left in your bra and panties. When he's done, you push at his shoulder until your able to sit up, stradling him.

You begin undressing him like the time in the bathroom but this time he lets you strip him down until hes in his boxers. You could see him straining against the fabric of his boxers and you whimper. You had to have him in your mouth. He tries to lay you back down, insistant on taking care of you but you shake your head; thats not what you needed right now. You connect your lips and grip him through his boxers. He lets out a slight gasp, and you can feel him twitch in your grasp. His eyes are closed, but you can see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands grip the sheets beneath him. You’ve been thinking about this for a while now, about how you want to unravel him, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

“Can I show you what's been on my mind?” You whisper against his lips, your voice low and sultry. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes flutter open and he nods. You slide down until you settle between his legs, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his boxers and you kiss along his chest. Finally, you pull him out of his boxers. His tip is a pretty pink, begging for your attention, and there’s a vein that follows along the base of his cock, pulsing with every heartbeat. You make a mental note to pay extra attention to that. His breath picks up before you can even do anything, and when you finally tear your eyes away from his cock, you see that his cheeks are dusted pink and his ears are red. Even at a time like this, you find him endearing. You smile, but it comes off more sultry than you intend.

You gather spit in your mouth to wet your tongue, savoring the anticipation as you lean in closer. The moment your lips wrap around his tip, he lets out a sharp gasp, his body tensing. You take him into your mouth, feeling the warmth and saltiness of him as you bob your head gently. You circle his tip with your tongue before pulling off to lick him from base to tip, spreading your saliva and making him slip easier into your mouth.

You look up, meeting his gaze as you take him deeper, your throat working around him. Jaehyun’s head is thrown back, his chest heaving as he tries to keep still, but his hips betray him, thrusting slightly into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Each time you pull off, you leave a trail of saliva connecting you, making your next descent even slicker.

“Fuck…hah,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good.”

“When was the last time someone did this for you?” You ask, your voice muffled around his cock, noticing how sensitive he is.

“I can’t remember,” he groans.

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” You say seductively, your eyes locked on his as you take him back into your throat, not holding back as you show him the pleasures he had probably been withholding from himself. You moan around him, pumping him vigorously as you suck on him, making a show of giving him the sloppiest head possible.

He was polite in the beginning; he didn’t push your head or tug your hair, and he didn’t buck his hips. Instead, he gripped the sheets and bit his lip, trying to control himself, trying to be a gentleman. But after he hits the back of your throat a little too roughly and you gag on him, he loses it. The way your throat convulses makes him bury his fingers into your hair, pressing you down until your nose is nuzzling against his happy trail. Tears burn your eyes as you let him drown in his pleasure, your own arousal building in response.

You know your panties are ruined at this point. Your free hand snakes down between your legs, your fingers gliding over your clit, circling the swollen button as he uses your throat. You barely notice the ache in your jaw, too consumed by the sensations coursing through your body. Suddenly, he pulls you off, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Lay down,” he commands, his voice gruff and urgent. You don’t even have time to follow his command before he manhandles you onto your back, his hands moving with a mix of urgency and precision. Desire and desperation swirl in his eyes as he practically rips your panties from you, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs as he strips them away. He’s far too impatient to unclip your bra, so he just pushes it up, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

Your back arches into his touch as he attaches his mouth to your nipples, flicking and nibbling at them with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. You moan, your nails scratching down his arms lightly, urging him on. He kisses down to your thighs, leaving a few love bites along the skin there that have your hips twitching for more. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes raking down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Hurry, I need you,” you cry, your voice breaking with urgency, your fingernails digging into his arms.

He shushes you with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a brief but intense moment of connection. Then he lines himself up, coating himself in your slick, making sure he’s slick enough to slide right in. Your breath hitches when he presses against your entrance, the head of his cock nudging at your folds. You were definitely feeling how big he was. Not only was he long, but he had a nice girth as well, stretching you in ways that had you clenching your teeth a little at the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he begins to push in. “Let me in.”

You gently press him back, creating a space between your bodies, your eyes drawn to where your bodies connect. You can feel him deep inside you—only a third left before hes in completely and you already felt full. A soft whimper escapes your lips, vulnerability flashing in your gaze as you look up at him, searching for assurance.

“It’s okay, baby. You can take it,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

You stay still, allowing the initial sting to fade, his fingers intertwined with yours, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as a calming gesture. You focus on the warmth of his hand against yours and the tension slowly dissipates. The discomfort begins to melt away, replaced by a delicious ache. You give him a slow nod, a silent agreement, and he takes that as his cue. His hips pull back, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized, as he slips out—he was so big but still so perfect.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Focus,” he urges, his voice a deep rumble that resonates in your core.

You meet his gaze and its so intense you almost shy away. “Thats right baby, im right here”

One of his hands grips the underside of your thigh before pressing it up against your chest. your back arching involuntarily at the delicious rush of pleasure that courses through you. You could feel him in your gut in this position. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he drills into you again and again. Short, fast thrusts gradually deepen into long, languid strokes that have you pushing at his hips weakly.

“Fuck, Jae… it’s too deep,” you cry out, your thighs trembling.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty and momentarily disoriented. “Turn around,” he commands, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. You pout, suddenly regretting opening your big mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you prop yourself up on your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder at him with a pleading gaze. “I can take it, I promise,” you reassure.

“We’ll see,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, as he leans down to lay a line of soft kisses down your spine.

You shudder at the gesture and just as the last kiss lingers on the small of your back, you feel him slip inside again. This position gives him more control but he isn't as deep as before. You roll your hips back into him, urging him to fuck you as deep as he was before.

But he slows, his thrusts coming to a halt as he watches you move, his gaze dark with pleasure as he just watches you fuck yourself on him. He hums a noise of pleasure. He lets it go on for a little while longer before he is gripping your hips and stilling your movements.

“Let me take care of you”

He pushes the space between your shoulders, urging you down into the softness of the mattress until you're face down, ass up. With one hand gripping your hips, he resumes his thrusts. Picking up a brutal pace and this time you don't fight it. Each thrust strikes with precision, sharp and calculated, as he takes you from behind. His movements are relentless.

A low growl reverberates from deep within him. In an instant, he pulls you up until your back presses against his chest, your body perched in his lap as he continues to drill into you. You tilt your head back against his shoulder, gasping as his hands roam over you. One grips your chest, kneading your breast, while the other slips between your legs to expertly rub your clit. You let out unrestrained moans, the sounds echoing in the room without a care.

Your thighs tremble and you can feel tears prick your eyes as the overwheliming sensation consumes your body. Each thrust, each caress pushes you closer to the edge, and your chest heaves as you squirm in his hold. It was too much.

“I got you. Let it go baby.” he whispers breathily in your ear. His hand that was kneading your breast moves to hook beneath your shoulder, anchoring you down as he thrusts deeper, pulling you back into him as his hips drive into yours.

It isn't long until your an incoherent mess, until finally you collapse against him as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You moan shamelessly, feeling your heat pulse around him and coating his cock as your release spills out, dripping down his balls. Jaehyun groans, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he holds you in place, burning himself into you over and over again until hes lightheaded.

“Just a little more, baby, please. You can take it, yeah?” Jaehyun's voice wavers slightly, the raw need evident as he edges closer to his release. The urgency in his tone drives you wild. With a few more deep thrusts, he finally reaches his peak, filling you with thick, hot strands of cum. You shudder in his grasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he exhales harshly, breaths mingled with soft curses. “Fuck… mmmh… fuck,” he murmurs.

Jaehyun breathes as he slowly tries to catch his breath. You both take a few moments to come down from your high. His grip loosens at last, and with a gentle touch, he pulls out, laying you delicately on the mattress. You sink into the sheets, breathing heavily as he gets up to run a bath.

A few moments later, he returns, scooping you up in his strong arms. Together, you step into the warm water, which soothes your tired muscles instantly. You sit in front of him, letting the warmth encapsulate you as he takes on the role of caretaker, washing your back caringly.

He massages your shoulders, and you let out a content sigh, a sound that embodies the perfect blend of exhaustion and bliss. The water laps around you, and you feel a sense of tranquility settle in, wrapping around you just as warmly as his hands.

After you both wash up, you're enveloped in a comfortable silence. You were too tired to talk anyway. You lean back against him, feeling his fingers play in your hair. Eventually, when you finally muster the energy to pull yourselves from the bath, he wraps you both in warm towels. You don’t even bother with clothes, opting instead to pad back toward the bedroom

The bed was a chaotic mess, sheets crumpled and soiled from the nights activities. You yawn, too exhausted to even think about changing the linens, and way too impatient to wait for Jaehyun to take care of it. Without hesitation, you reach for his wrist, pulling him gently out of his disheveled room.

You guide him into the room across the hall—the very one where you first stayed. As you get under the covers, you tug them up and slip in beside him, legs tangling with his as you get comfortable.

Jaehyun can’t tear his gaze away from you as you settle next to him, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating your features. Your eyes feel heavy, and you yawn again, surrendering to the fatigue. “Go to sleep, Jae, stop staring like a creep,” you grumble, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

“I'm afraid to,” he admits, his words muffled against your hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern.

“Because I’m afraid that when I wake up, this will all be a dream,” he confesses.

“Jaehyun. I’m right here,” you murmur with a soft yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. The warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of comfort that makes it hard to resist the pull of sleep. “I’ll always be… right here,” you promise, your words fading into a whisper as sleep finally overtakes you.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Cat claws

Day 2: Scarred.

Summary: Maybe he can forgive Nuts.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1177

Warnings: cat being mean to hazel :(

A/n: azzie just loses his mind in tis lmao nd you cant blame him hazel's the most adorable little thing ever 🥹 yall just wait till she begins talking azs going to sob his eyes out (subtle foreshadowing 🎀)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel watched, amused, as Hazel attempted to crawl towards the black furry creature that sat in the corner licking its paw.

Hazel had only started crawling a week or so ago, and Azriel absolutely loved watching her drag herself around. It was often amusing to see her get angry when the carpet slowed down her movements when it caught on her clothes, or when she bumped into the couch and glared at it.

She would always turn to search for Azriel when that happened, letting out the loudest yell her tiny body could muster as if ordering him to get rid of the offending item.

Even barely eight months old, Y/n always said Hazel had her father’s ability to glare and grumble.

Azriel always scoffed in return to that statement before forcing himself to stop and realise him being grumpy only proved his mate’s words to be true.

Hazel was currently looking at her father with her brows furrowed, and Azriel blinked, coming back to the present as he realised she was trying to move over the carpet. He grinned at the anger on her face and stood, bending down once he was close enough to pick her up.

He set her down closer to the cat Y/n had insisted on getting after Hazel’s birth, her reasoning being that their daughter needed a friend and then named him Nuts.

Hazel and her best friend Nuts.

‘Get it? Hazel-Nuts’ She had giggled.

It made Azriel laugh back when she had suggested it, but soon enough he’d realised she was not joking. At all.

Azriel watched on with a smile as Hazel reached Nuts and tried to grab his fur. Nuts walked away without a look in her direction, which always pissed Azriel off. Who did the creature think it was?

"Azriel, that’s a cat. He does not understand how to act with a baby-" Y/n called out from the kitchen, having peeked into the living room to see what had caused her mate to get so mad that his emotions reached her through the bond.

"Well how long does it take to learn? I swear to the mother one day I'm kicking him out if he continues to bully my daughter."

Azriel heard Y/n sigh and walk closer to him as Hazel crawled towards Nut again. He now sat closer to the hearth, where a fire burned red to ward off the winter chill that was beginning to set over Velaris.

"Az-"

But Azriel did not hear the rest of Y/n’s sentence.

His ears began ringing as he stepped forward as if in a daze, eyes sharp on the raised paw of Nuts, who, having seen Hazel get close to him again, tried to hit her.

The firelight glinted off his claws.

And then Hazel’s loud cries filled the room as her head reared back, eyes clenched shut in pain.

She had a habit of flopping on her back when she was mad. Azriel had never really worried too much about that particular habit of Hazel’s until now, when she was too close to the fire and the tiniest movement would end up with her-

No, Azriel did not want to complete the thought.

In that moment of panic, Azriel did not care that there was a glass covering separating the fire from the room, and that no matter what Hazel did, she would not be able to be burned.

In that moment all that mattered to Azriel was that the fucking cat living in his house had the audacity to hurt his daughter.

Azriel grabbed Hazel, frantically looking over her to check for her injuries. There weren’t any big claw marks, but the tiny scratch on the chubby flesh of her upper arm connecting it to her shoulder made Azriel see red.

He turned to glare at Y/n as he pulled Haze close.

"I am telling you Y/n. If by the time I return, that bastard is not out of this house, I will drop him into the sidra myself."

Y/n’s eyes were helpless, but Azriel did not wait for a moment longer as he walked out of the main door and took flight, his only mission to find Madja and get his daughter healed.

He did not want her to be scarred like the hands cradling her.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Flying back home, Azriel decided that he needed some time alone to figure out why he had reacted so harshly.

He knew Y/n had been right. Nuts was an animal. He did not understand how to treat babies. But Azriel did not want to admit that.

The stars were out, so clearly visible as Azriel flew his daughter back home. It had been over an hour since he’d left the house in such a hurry, wishing he could strangle the cat.

He had taken to the skies after Madja had assured him that Hazel would be fine, and had his emotions not been so high and panicked, maybe Hazel wouldn’t have cried at all. After long moments of being assured by Madja, Azrie finally calmed down and left.

"I’m sorry baby. Did I scare you?" Azriel mumbled, glancing down at his daughter who stared up at the sky with wide eyes. She only giggled back in answer.

The innocence in the sound made Azriel smile.

The smile faded just as quick as it had come when his eyes fell on his hands cradling her head and back.

They once were soft and smooth like Hazel’s. They once had grabbed his own parents hand with as much love as he now grasped his daughters. Only now, they were uglier.

If Y/n heard his thoughts, she would have yelled at him and forced him to say they were beautiful. But Azriel knew better. They weren’t, and they never would be.

The only thing he liked even a little about his hands was the fact that their texture was so different from other’s hands, Hazel always immediately figured out she was in her father’s arms.

Y/n always talked about how the same scarred hands he despised were the reason she and Hazel felt safe. Those words echoed back to Azriel when he began doubting himself. It always made him feel better.

Hazel squealed loudly when Azriel dipped lower, air pushing gently against her back.

She was so pure, so innocent. She did not even know of the cruel world she was born in.

And Azriel swore to keep it that way. He had hoped the world outside his father’s dungeon would be better, once, and quickly realised that there were people in the world that would pounce at the chance to scar innocent souls just for the sadistic pleasure of ruining their lives.

He did not want her soul to turn out as scarred as his too.

As he finally landed on the front porch of his home and heard loud meow’s coming from inside, he contemplated letting the cat stay.

Maybe a cat’s claw scratch was not that bad.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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@okaytrashpanda

[hereforthehitsbaby]

prompt: hugh is your sugar daddy and he just bought you a new dress to wear at a movie premiere after party, but he cant resist wanting to take it off of you (also ur writings are fantastic 🩷)

Don’t I Look So Pretty? | Sugar Daddy!Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Hugh is 56) Secretive Relationship, Heavy Make Out, Hugh is Touchy Feely, Mentions of Smut, Mentions of Divorce, Choking, Biting, Thigh Riding, Slight Pain Kink,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for being my first ever High request! I was on the fence about doing RPF but you know what? I cannot pass up Sugar Daddy Hugh like that! Also I 100% spaced on the fact that you said after party and just wrote the premiere. I hope that was okay!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

How did you get so lucky? That was the age-old question in your mind. How did you go from working a 9-5 office job directly after getting your Masters, to now being a sugar baby? It still surprised you, knowing this was your life. A small studio apartment turned into a lavish penthouse. Your car that barely turned on anymore got upgraded to a brand-new Aston Martin; You’ve never driven it though – why would you if you have a private driver now? How you went from living and working independently to being a princess in less than a few months boggled your mind, but you wouldn’t trade it in for the world. You were happy, for the first time in a long time.

Meeting Hugh Jackman was luck of the draw. You never realized how close your old job was to his home in the city, nor to his favorite coffee shop downtown. That was your solace after long days and dreaded mornings; Extra strong coffee and a bagel was your go-to. Seeing him each time meant that your day was going to be okay, his tender smile and short but sweet conversations got you through your week. It first started off as your favorites being already paid for, not having to waste your own dime anymore. Then it was your parking lot fees being comped, gas being prepaid, food constantly being delivered – all the way up to your rent being paid in full for four months. That is when things took a turn, Hugh didn’t just chat you up to keep your company in the mornings, this time around he was setting terms. Falling into the roll of his sugar baby came so naturally, it was hard to know anything else. You felt bliss, complete happiness knowing you didn’t have to go back to your boring office job. You didn’t have to appease people who truly wanted to use you as a stepping stool for their own success, you could be free from the bullshit of it all. You never looked back, and you never would. Everything you needed was in front of you, and you wanted to keep it that way.

A year of being Hugh’s sugar baby was everything you wanted, and everything he needed. Though this was the first time he had ever asked you to come to a movie premiere with him. It was hush-hush, especially after the divorce he went through. Hugh didn’t take you on as his sugar baby for sexual reasons, but more for companionship. You both were lonely, seeking a connection and why not do it with someone who made you two feel comfortable. As time went on though, those fleeting touches and longing stares burned right through you. Ryan always said it was a match made; He could see through the charade. So here you sit in your closet, at your vanity getting your makeup done. Staring into the mirror while your personal glam team dolls you up, you reminisced about how things have been for the last year, how much happier you are, how deeply you fell in love with Hugh. Not that you’d ever admit it to him, what you had now was good. You didn’t want to ruin that.

“Alright gorgeous, you are set.” Your makeup artist smiled as your hair stylist finished up with the hairspray. Looking up into the mirror, you were taken aback by the image in front of you. You knew you were pretty, beautiful even but right now? You look ethereal. There was a glow on your face not even the makeup could cover up, the way your eyes shined like you were blissfully happy with life. You looked like a painting, nothing seemed real but a perfect portrait of a girl in love. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes as you took yourself in, gasping lowly as your makeup artist set his chin on your shoulder, smiling with you. “Those heart eyes are all you, babe. He’s going to drop to his knees when he sees you.” You couldn’t help but feel the heat creeping up your neck to fan over your cheeks, your body shivering at his words. “I hope, I really hope.” You smiled small into the mirror, heart hammering as you thought of Hugh.

Before you could even begin to silently ponder the reaction he would have to you, a line of giggles fluttered in from the open closet door, humming ensuing as the blonde bun came back in sight. “Special delivery for a special girl,” your hair stylist laughed as she held the box in her hands. You cocked a brow as you spun around in your chair, flicking a silent what in her direction before looking at her hands. An ivory box with a gentle purple ribbon tied in a bow sat in her palms, causing your heart to swell. Biting your glossed lip, you took the box slowly from her hands, seeing a little envelope with your name written out tucked beneath. As you placed the box on your lap, you reached out to run your fingers across the ink, feeling how your fingers shook with anticipation. Gently you grasped the corner of the envelope, opening the back with a quick flick of your finger before pulling the card out.

I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I saw this. I knew I needed to see you in it. Can’t wait to see my pretty girl tonight. Having you by my side is going to feel so right.

Yours, Hugh xx

If you had any doubts before, you knew now that no matter what, Hugh was going to be obsessed with you. It never crossed your mind that he was going to buy you a dress for tonight, much less get it wrapped and ready to go. Especially on such short notice, it was the little actions he did that made you love him even more. Holding the sweet note to your chest, you swooned softly as you let your free hand work the box open, seeing the pearlescent tissue paper covering your dress. Your hair stylist didn’t waste a moment to help you out, lifting the paper back so you could see what Hugh had picked. A deep sapphire blue dress, with little beads twisting to mimic vines across the bodice of the dress, all the way down well passed the hips. The sweetheart neckline perfectly complimented the sheer long sleeves that came down to your wrist.

As your makeup artist and hair stylist grabbed the dress out for you, holding it up, you noticed the deep slit up to the middle of your thigh, causing your breathing to become labored. It was stunning, truly a beauty you have never seen before. Hugh has bought you so many lavish pieces of jewelry, purses, dresses, but nothing ever so you. This didn’t feel like something perfectly curated to fit what you wanted, but something that you would’ve made yourself. Something you would’ve dreamed of wearing. The small notion that he saw this and thought of you made you want to cry – it was too sweet for you to begin. Quickly your makeup artist came over to fan your face, making sure no tears fell over his hard work. That simple action had you laughing away the emotion welling up within you, making it hard to overthink.

A couple face fanning and strategically helping you into the dress so your hair nor makeup go ruined, finally you were in your dress. It felt right against you, like truly it belonged to you, was curated for you, was meant to be for you only. Now as you stand in front of the full length mirror staring at yourself, you felt like you. The way the color complimented not just your figure, but your skin color was the best. You felt like a goddess, you felt like an angel on Earth. You felt powerful, enough to take down an entire empire. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took a deep breath as you smiled, ready to show Hugh what he had really bought for you. Your glamour team rubbed your arm and back as you began to walk out of the closet, giving you that extra boost you may need.

Thankfully living with Hugh made it so much easier to surprise him, not having to walk down a grand staircase or even stand outside of the door. Simply you could walk out of the closet, into your bedroom, and right into the living room where he was standing. His back was facing you as his front faced the fireplace, a hand pressed against the mantle as his other nursed a glass of water. In this moment you didn’t have to say anything or move an inch. Hugh could feel that you were behind him, he could smell your perfume and instantly felt his body run hot. He longed for you, each and every day. Though you two weren’t intimate, it didn’t stop the deep connection you developed with each other. Having that emotional connection was perfect, even if a physical one didn’t happen. Being a sugar daddy was new to him too; Ryan told him not to fall in love but, with you he couldn’t help it.

Slowly Hugh turned around from his position, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses. From his fuzzy vision he could make out the color of your dress, and knew he wasn’t going to be able to handle this. As his vision came back into focus, Hugh sucked a breath in, eyes dilating at what he was seeing. Starting at your face, he let his eyes wander over your features, taking in your beauty from a few steps away. He was wondering how the hell he got so lucky, how he had the fortune of existing at the same time as you, you were everything to him. Slowly his eyes careened down to your neck, ghosting over your chest and down your front. Each flick of his gaze caused your body to grow warm, the slick between your thighs growing more and more. Once his eyes fell upon the generous slit in your dress, once emerald eyes turned obsidian. His facial features never moved, they stayed in their frozen state as his eyes flicked back to you, his mouth agape.

“Woah,” Hugh breathed out, his heart pounding in his chest. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, biting your lip as you slowly made your way to him. The strawberry vanilla lotion you had used wafted through his nostrils, mixed with your perfume made him feral. It was then you noticed how his tie matched the color of your dress, causing you to feel warm and fuzzy. The little details like that made it special for you, made this relationship feel not monetary – but real. “That bad, huh?” You snorted out, running your fingers down the collar of his blazer as your eyes remained on his. You could see there was something more brewing beneath his gaze, but he wasn’t showing – he was shutting it out for his own sake. Hugh laid his hands on your lips as he looked deep into your eyes, smiling like a man obsessed. “You look perfect. I knew this dress was made for you.”

Hearing him say that made your smile turn wide, leaning forth to give him a small kiss on the cheek as you let your breath waft over his ear. “Thank you for this, Hugh. That was too kind. You’re too sweet.” They were the best set of words you could string together; Under his stare this time around, you couldn’t think coherently. The energy between the two of you had shifted – once full of pink and purple lights now swam in dark reds and emerald. It was thick, not suffocating but held you both in. You felt your body pushing against his without even thinking about it, Hugh could feel it too. Bringing his hand up to caress your jaw, his eyes fell to your lips, enraptured by the color chosen to compliment the dress. “Anything for my baby. You ready?” He smiled, his eyes never leaving your mouth. Nodding against his hand, you moved your head slightly to the side as you kissed his palm, holding your other hand against his chest. “As I’ll ever be.”

That was all Hugh needed to hear to grab your hand, bringing the back up to his lips as he let his kiss linger. Taking your hand into his, you both made your way out to the town car with his driver, making your way to the premiere.

-----

Everything that you could’ve possibly thought a red carpet for a premiere could be, you got to experience. It was a blur of lights and yelling but it was magical. Seeing how the cast latched onto Hugh and his excellence made your heart grow fond. Seeing how many of his friends came out to support him warmed your insides. Tonight was about him and his amazing performance, to be tagging along with him to experience this was a dream come true. Though you didn’t want the full red-carpet experience; Seeing the plethora of lights and cameras shuttering made you feel lightheaded. Instead, you made your way over his Hugh’s assistant, falling right behind him in step as he made his way around to interviews with Hugh. This was your choice at the end of the day, Hugh was okay with what made you feel safe, but a part of him wishes he could’ve had you on the carpet with him, showing off his girl.

Everything flew by in the snap of your fingers, interviews and pictures were completely done with now as you two made it into the packed theater. The complimentary concessions stand was buzzing to life with all the celebrities wanting a snack, the chatter gradually got quieter as people started to make their way to their seats. You could feel your nerves on edge as you looked around. Hugh leaned closer to you as he laced his arm your waist, holding you to him as he ran his thumb over the dress. Turning your face up to look at him, you could see that his brows were pulled together. He looked upset, worried even as his eyes panned around the room. It was something you have never see Hugh do before, and you wondered what was the matter. “You okay, Hugh?” You asked as you held him close, placing your lips near his shoulder

Your words seemed to have broken him out of his internal thoughts, causing him to come back into reality. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He chimed, leaning down to lay a kiss on your temple. It felt staged, artificial. Was he nervous about all the people? About bringing you along? Was he not wanting to see someone? Too many questions placated your mind as you tried to read Hugh’s expression. You could see a small glimmer of pain in his eyes as he searched the room, his breathing become harsh. Rubbing your hand along his lower back, you placed your hip against his, leaning as close as you possibly could so only he could hear you. “You sure? You look distracted.” You knew he was, and you were silently hoping he would tell you why, but alas he looked down at you with a blank stare, trying to mask how he was feeling. “I’m okay, my darling.”

Nodding up at Hugh, you gave him a small smile as you looked back at the crowd. It was then that you heard a small gasp of success from Hugh’s lips, not giving you time to ask what was going on. Hugh was a man on a mission, and wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted. His hand wrapped to yours tightly, tugging you through the theater. As you pushed your way through the line Hugh had made for you, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his eagerness. Hugh wasn’t upset but he was excited for something, of which you could not tell. But the way he looked back at you made your skin alight in adoration, his eyes sparkling with something more than like. You felt your body run hot as he stared at you, pulling you closer. Rounding the corner near the theater entrances, Hugh noted the light blue door at the end of the hall, humming out as he started to sprint with you.

Gathering the skirt of your dress in your free hand, you made good pace with Hugh as he led you to the door. Pushing it open with ease, you were met with the brightly lit interior of the bathroom, causing you to squint slightly. The bright light threw you off your balance as Hugh fully pulled you into the bathroom, maneuvering your body while you tried to adjust to the light. As your eyes finally focused, you felt your back being pressed up against the bathroom door, locking it with a harsh click. Hugh had both of your wrists clasped into his hands, holding them strictly above your head. Your eyes went wide at the action, staring into his blackened ones, your breathing labored in comparison to his easy one. “Hugh! What-“ You yelped out, but were cut short by Hugh shaking his head. His salt and peppered beard ran over your cheek as he tucked his head down, his breath sliding across your neck. “Sshh, don’t talk. Don’t talk.”

You obeyed his command as you whimpered, letting your eyes fall closed naturally at the feeling of him pressed against you. Hugh pulled his head back from your neck as he stared down at you, bringing his left hand down to grab at your chin, pointing your face up towards him. You could see the feral nature wanting to slip out and play with you, wanting to add physical contact to your relationship. You could see how Hugh was fighting it back with each breath, the small line teetering the deeper you gazed. You didn’t want just an emotional connection anymore, you wanted to make good on your job of sugar baby, giving Hugh exactly what he needs. He could see that in your eyes as well, the conflict of whether it would be a good idea. Tonight was a night of firsts, why not add that to the menu? A slight whimper left Hugh’s mouth as you pressed your breasts to him, leaning forth to nip at his bottom lip. “Earlier you asked me if I was okay. I lied, I’m not okay.” He sounded as if he was in pain, causing a wave of arousal to slip through your lower lips.

You felt your mind going hazy at the lack of space you two had, adding to the tension you wanted to slice with a knife. “W-What’s up?” It came out more as a moan than a sincere question, and you felt Hugh’s reserve slipping away. A chuckle of arousal slipped from his parted lips as he slid his left hand from your chin, to your neck. The action itself made your body sing, your eyes rolling back as he pushed. He was holding you hard enough so you couldn’t move, but not hard enough to where you couldn’t breathe. Instead, his thumb and first finger found your pulse point, pushing down to restrict the blood flow to your head, making your sight go fuzzy. “Fuck it,” Hugh let out with a growl. There was not enough time to respond before he pressed his mouth to yours, invading your senses.

Time stopped in that moment, slowing down enough to fully take in this moment. The first kiss of your relationship with Hugh, something you two have been wanting so bad over the last year. The floodgates had broken in this moment, letting you two embark on this voyage of discovery. His lips slotting against yours like he was made for you, how your mouth formed perfectly to his. The simple flicks of your tongue against his ignited the fire from within, causing you to burn to ash and be born anew. You struggled against Hugh’s grasp, wanting nothing more than to hold him close to you, feel every ridge of his body under your palms, to feel his burning passion. As if he had read your mind, Hugh had let your hands go, deepening the kiss. A sultry moan slipped past your parted lips as he licked into your mouth, letting him swallow it down.

Your hands slid down as he released his grasp, finding purchase on his hips. Letting your left-hand maneuver upwards, you tangled your fingers into Hugh hair at the base of his neck, giving the roots a soft tug. A growl escapes his lips and pours into your mouth; His right hand working its way under the slit of your dress to hold your plush thigh. The tantalizing touch of his calloused fingers against your baren skin made you want to scream in pleasure, to let this man ravish you all across the world. Hugh pulled back, panting like an animal as he gripped at your neck tighter, his touch shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about stripping you out of this dress.” Hugh sounded like he was in pain, a primal sound you have never heard him make. He sounded like a man possessed, the only cure was to make you scream his name.

A moan slipped out of his mouth as his hand slipped between your legs, feeling how sopping your cunt was at making out with him. Feeling his fingers slide against your panties made your knees buckle. Hugh stuck his knee between your thighs to hold you up, burying his face into your neck. “God, I fucking need you baby. I can’t do this any longer.” Hearing his desperate he was for you made you feel powerful, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he ravishes your neck. Hugh’s lips latched on roughly to the skin of your throat, suckling against the sweet scent of you. His knee on the other hand, slid back and forth against you, letting your erect clit nudge the soft fabric. Everything was too much, every feeling was too much, yet you didn’t want any of it to stop.

Grinding yourself down against his thigh, Hugh took that as an opportunity to bite into your neck, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark what’s his. That was enough to send you over the edge, digging your nails into the back of his neck as you tossed your head back against the door. Against your core thigh you could feel Hugh growing harder, silently begging to make him cum. The mere size of him shocked you, knowing he would give you a good stretch if you tried. Just the thought was enough to put you on edge, his words aiding in your arousal. “If I’m not inside of you in the next two seconds, I might pass out.” You couldn’t take it anymore, you were sweating like a bitch in heat. You needed Hugh, and needed him now. You needed to feel him inside of you, to mark you, show everyone that you are his. “Would you-“ You began, not able to finish as Hugh pulls his face back from your neck.

“Yes.” How quickly he responded made you laugh, which in turn caused Hugh to roughly press his knee against your clothed clit, sending a wave of arousal through your body. Never tearing your eyes away from his, you licked your glossed lips sensually, putting on your best innocent eyes you could muster as you spoke. “You didn’t let me-“ Hugh had heard enough to know what you meant, because he needed the exact same from you. Hugh brought his face up inches from yours, pecking your lips slightly as he groaned out, your hand gripping his erect cock through his slacks. “Would you like to go home and let me worship you? Yes, I would baby.”

-----

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo @craziersarah98 @tezooks @pedroscurls @logansbaby

[babyfoxflower]

How about some spicy smut, as a treat? Alastor coming back to the hotel after a very *trying* day.

Hey! Thanks for the request! Spicy smut it is 🍆💦

Tentacles

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, BDSM, Tentacles, Bondage, Suspension, Tentacle in V Sex, P in V Sex, Creampie

A familiar shape formed in the shadows of the bedroom.

“Hello, my Beloved, how did the meeting with the other overlords go?” You asked.

Alastor glanced at you, “Pointless as ever, my love,” the crackle of static in his voice indicating that he was not in a good mood.

“Oh, would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” he materialized on the bed next to you.

“Is there anything I can do?” You asked innocently.

He took a moment, staring up at the fixed night sky. His shadow suddenly chirped into his ear, causing it twitch.

He chuckled darkly, “Hmm…Now, that is an absolutely lovely idea. Glad I thought of it!”

“What?” Your voice laced with anxiety.

He turned to you, eyes skimming up and down your delicious figure.

A sultry smirk found its way on his face as you let out a yelp, tentacles, without so much as a warning, slithering up your bare legs.

Your body trembled as those damn tentacles began ripping your clothes off. With a snap of Alastor’s fingers, the bedroom half of his room was gone, leaving only the bayou half.

It wasn’t long until you were completely naked, his warm wet tendrils suspending you by your wrists. Two more holding your legs open.

“Alastor, are you sure this is what you want? We can just make love the normal way,” your breath heavy.

He had never used his tentacles on you before and while you were excited, you were also quite nervous.

He stood in front of you, still very much fully dressed. The only things he removed was his coat and bow tie.

Alastor stroked your face gently, his thumb rubbing against your soft cheek, “Ah ah ah, you asked if there was anything you could do for me…and this, my dear, is exactly what I need right now,” drool made it’s way down his chin as he licked his lips.

His face was that of a predator who caught a particularly tasty prey.

You submitted as you always did.

“Attagirl!” He praised before kissing you.

You’re lips moved in sync with each others, his hands cupping your face. You gasped as two more tendrils wrapped around your breasts, lightly teasing your sensitive nipples.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. Your two tongues swirled around each other in a small dance. The vibrations of your moans filled each other’s mouths. He gave you one last kiss before pulling away, a string of salvia connecting your bottom lips.

Alastor snapped his fingers again, a chair appearing behind him, “If you don’t mind, I plan on sitting back and enjoying the show.”

You whined as he moved away from you, taking a seat.

He smirked at how utterly helpless you were, completely in his control.

Your eyes started to tear up as another tentacle found its way onto your clit, rubbing circles into it.

Meanwhile, the two playing with your tits started pulling at your hardened nipples, “Al…Alastor,” you cried out, ceaseless moans escaping you.

“Yes, my darling Doe?” He leaned his head on his arm in a casual manner.

You stared down at a particularly big tendril beginning to probe at your pussy’s entrance, your eyes widening.

“Before you say anything, that tentacle is no bigger than my cock and I know for a fact that you can take that,” his ever present smile stretched from ear to ear.

You bit down on your bottom lip as that thick black tentacle eased its way into you. The lovely burn as it stretched out your walls was enough to make you drool.

“Oh my! You look gorgeous like this.”

Once it reached that special place inside you, it began to ram itself against it over and over again without mercy.

“Yes…yes…yes!” You screamed, “Right…there!”

There was nothing that made Alastor harder than you in ecstasy. Watching your face contort from pleasure, was his ultimate form of entertainment.

The other tendrils continued their assault on your most sensitive areas, never letting up, not even for a moment.

You were panting so hard that you swore you might’ve passed out. The slurping sounds your cunt was producing, only added to the melody.

“Ah, music to my ears,” he groaned.

This went on for a good while, until finally you felt that coil tighten in your stomach, your walls fluttering against the slimy appendage inside of you.

“I…’m so…close, baby….” You whimpered.

“I know, come undone for me, my sweet girl.”

The sudden tenderness in his voice mixed with his starry-eye adoration made your walls clench down hard. That coil snapped, your eyes rolled back, and toes curled. You screamed out his name as your pussy gushed.

The tendrils all retreated, save for one that wrapped around your waist and lowered you gently into Alastor’s arms.

He ran his fingers through your hair, twirling the ends around one, “It wasn’t too much for you, was it?”

“…no. I…loved…it,” you replied.

“Good, that’s good. I thought I went too far with you for a moment,” he kissed your lips, “Do you think you can go one more round?”

“With the…tentacles? No. I need a break from them!”

“Haha! Of course not, I meant with me, Darling.”

“Oh, I can never say no to you.”

Alastor positioned you so he could free his hardened member from his pants. Slowly, he lowered you onto his length, groaning at how wonderful your pretty little cunt felt.

He bounced you up and down, fingers gripping tightly on your hips.

It was a nice even pace that he fucked you at. Kissing a path along your neck and shoulder, he tasted the salt from your sweat.

His name slipped past your lips endlessly. It wasn’t long before you came undone for the second time. He moaned at the sensation of your walls milking his cock.

Alastor pressed a firm kiss onto your lips as he painted your insides with his thick white seed.

The two of you sat there for a while, just holding each other.

“How about we take a bath together and then I’ll tell you about how utterly idiotic the other overlords are over dinner, okay, my dear?”

“That sounds perfect,” you kissed his neck.

@2dmenforme and @xghostnuggsx , I believe you said that you wanted to be tagged whenever I post ❤️

[coichii]

SUNFLOWER - HAN

pairing - spiderman!bf!han ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: angst & comfort

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cursing, reader thinks Han died, shitty writing that I thought was good at first

summary : Han led a double life, being your loveable boyfriend to Spiderman in the blank of an eye, obviously always putting himself in harms way for the sake of Brooklyn. You knew this about him, doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare you to death whenever he gets hurt.

A tap on the window stops your thoughts.

It’s 10pm on a Tuesday, so a knock on the window of your 7 floor apartment building in the middle of a dangerous city isn’t very, well, welcoming.

Carefully, you stand up, not failing to grab the hard baseball bat laying in you closet for moments like these.

Slowly and quietly, you make your way to the window, opening it and putting your weapon into batting position before your eyes lock onto the man behind the glass.

“Woah woah, baby. It’s just me.” Han defends, holding his arms in the air as if he had just been wrongly convicted. “Why do you have the bat.”

“Damnit Hannie! How many times have I told you to stop doing that!” You huff out, dropping the baseball bat out your hands as he chuckles and climbs in.

“Hey, honey~.” He teases in a sing song voice, wrapping his arms around your torso after closing the window. You can feel the warmth of his body, but you’re still upset.

“I’m going to seriously hit you if you keep doing that.” You pout, turning your head from him in fake anger; it’s hard to be mad at him for long.

“Don’t worry, cutie. It won’t hurt anyways.” He winks, causing an even deeper pout to form on your lips.

“Hmm, you still upset? Lemme kiss that pout off your lips then.” He grins, then he’s kissing you.

It’s sweet and slow, saying words lips can’t. His hands move from around your torso to your waist, giving the flesh a tight squeeze. You love kisses like these with him so much that you can almost forget what you had seen on tv earlier in the day.

Keyword : almost

A highly wanted criminal had escaped the prison early in the morning, and Han— well, SpiderMan was tasked with stopping him, which he didn’t.

They had ran into eachother near the Brooklyn Museum, and things escalated from there. Spiderman was injured slightly, and while you know that he heals fast, knowing exactly who was under that costume made your heart ache every time he got so much as a scratch on his body.

You pull away slowly, and Han furrows his brows. “Baby, are you still hurt?”

He bites his lip, the look in his eyes turning almost somber. He doesn’t like when you worry about him, not because he doesn’t like the attention, but because it makes him feel guilty.

Sometimes he wishes he could take all the worry you have about him and bury it far away, but he knows that for as long as he wears that suit, you’ll be worried about him.

“I’m fine, y/n. Don’t worry about me, okay?” He consoles, giving you one last peck on the lips. “Why don’t you get some sleep while I finish some paperwork work, hmm, bubs? It’s late.”

You frown at this, studying the look on his face intensely before you move away and sigh.

“Okay. You’ll be in bed soon though right?” You look up at him, and he can’t help but put his smile back on his face.

“In no more than an hour, hun.” He assures, moving towards the bathroom to take a quick shower before starting. “I won’t be long”

You make your way to the one bedroom in your shared apartment, mind still caught up in the events of the day.

You knew that the one who had escaped was very dangerous and had hurt hundreds of people before he was finally locked up for good. The fact that he was now free formed an aura of uneasiness around you and the entirety of New York City, and it was evident.

The streets were quieter; a horrible sign in the city that never seems to sleep. You could feel it in the air that everyone was on high alert, including your boyfriend.

The paper work he was doing? All of it was connected to him. He was a serious threat, and it was scaring you. The last thing you wanted was for Han to get seriously injured.

It’s happened once before when you guys had already been dating for a while, right around the time he told you that he was Spiderman.

He got beat up pretty brutally, and it had struck a fear in you that you hadn’t even known existed.

The fear of losing him.

That night when he returned, you held on to him and cried for hours. He desperately tried to comfort you, running his hands across your back and telling you he was fine.

Even if he was though, you’d still worry about him.

How could you not.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s 5pm now, and you had just got off of work.

As you walk through the city, the feelings of brisk, autumn air soothing you, you realize it’s been too quiet. Even quieter than it had been yesterday.

You hadn’t been on your phone since it’s muted during your work hours, and you like to keep it that way until you get to your apartment, but you’re starting to think you should check it.

Nevertheless, you keep your regular pattern, walking until you reach the familiar building and door, walking in.

The anxiety is still eating at you, so you’re not surprised when you find your self turning on your TV and going to your local news station.

What does surprise you though, is when you see a live video of Spiderman laying on the harsh concrete clutching his side.

The air leaves your lungs, being filled with something else. Something thin, something dreadful.

It’s fear.

Your fearful eyes are glued to the screen. You want to look away, but it’s as if there’s an invisible force forcing you to stare at the TV.

It’s your worst fear broadcasted on live television, and there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is let the tears roll pitifully down your cheeks as the reports ramble on and on about his health, but you don’t want to listen. All you can do is pray.

Pray that those days where he held you weren’t going to come to an end. Pray that the times where he would swoop you up and take you to the roof of various buildings wouldn’t come to a close. Pray that even while it pissed you off, he would still be crawling through that window in your bedroom at the dead of night. That’s all you needed.

Him.

◂—♥︎—▸

You don’t know how long you had been there, but you don’t flinch when you hear the apartment door crack open.

You do move when you see who walks through the door.

There, a very beat up Jisung makes his way through the door, bruises and scars littering his arms. Cuts are all over his pretty face, causing a red tint all over. That’s all you can see through his tank top and long pants, but you know it must be worse.

You don’t know how you process all that, because once you register that it’s him, your running towards him faster than you’ve ever ran.

“J-Ji.?” You manage to stutter out, touching his skin delicately as if he could shatter, and honestly, you were scared he would. “Ji! O-oh my god! I t-thought you d-died!”

He grabs onto your hips, pulling you into his chest and rubing your back to console you. It usually works, but today, it’s only making the tears flow harder.

“What? Sweetheart, I’m fi-“ but you weren’t hearing it.

“Fine..? FINE!? You were not fine! I watched you lay there on the ground almost dead and you want to tell me you were fine?! I don’t know how much longer I can sit there and watch you ALMOST DIE, just for you to come home and say you’re fine, Han! I can’t take it.”

Your rambling angrily, stopping when you read the look in hans eyes.

fear & despair

“W-what do you mean by how much longer. Please don’t m-mean what I think you mean.” You can see the tears forming in his eyes as he pieces together your words and your shacked with guilt, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

“No. I don’t mean that at all. I-I’m just emotional. Just g-give me a minute to think, and then we can talk.” You whisper that last sentence, turning around and walking out of the shared living room, leaving behind a very shattered Jisung standing there, hand out as if to reach for you, but missing.

Missing by a long, long, shot.

◂—♥︎—▸

It’s not too long until you find yourself walking out of the bedroom, finding Han laying on the couch, seemingly staring into nothing, and this only makes you feel more guilty.

“Hey.” You start, seeing as Hans head swiftly turns towards your direction, eyebags heavy.

Have these tears always been blocking your vision?

“Listen. I am so, so, so sorry for how I acted. It was so wrong of me to yell and scream at you when you were still injured, especially to the point you would think I would even ever consider breaking up with you. I don’t want you to think being Spiderman is a burden for me, I was just emotionally overwhelmed and I am sorry.” You start, watching as his eyes slowly start to twinkle with tears.

Have these tears always been rolling down your cheeks?

“I just…can’t stand watching you get hurt. The thought of you.. n-not coming home kills me. You mean the most to me that anything or anyone ever has in all of my lifetimes, and the thought of losing you? It fucking scares me. But I shouldn’t have yelled at you or pushed you away. I’m sorry, Ji.”

He’s sat up by now, grabbing your hands in his. His eyes are sunken, and he still has various scars on his face, but the bruises have faded by now. You wish you could kiss all his pain away, but it’s hard to when it’s the emotional kind now and you feel as if it’s your fault.

“It’s okay, I understand. But listen to me, that’s never going to happen. I’m never ever going to leave you here by yourself. You will always have me. Until we grow old and much farther, I will never leave you.”

His words fill you with the sort of comfort you hadn’t felt for a long time, settling the aching in your heart that you carried for longer than you care to remember.

You knew there was going to be countless times where he was going to get endangered in the future, and you were never going to stop worrying about him. But for now, you felt at peace with him, your Spiderman.

Your hero.

back to masterlist

A/N : oh my goodness… proofreading this day of post is hard. I write a story and think it’s hits, then I go back and read it and it’s horrible…

[buckysfaveplum]

doomsday

summary: missions don't always go according to plan, sometimes you lose people- that's the job. bucky told you that himself.

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3k

warnings: violence, character death, um yea this one's sad. OH and Steve is dead in this (I mean he was like 90 something in endgame...)

a/n: GUYS omg i missed youuu i hope you remember me. its been like almost two years? i moved to ireland and started grad school! things are different. buttt here’s a new fic cause i’m back!!! ANGST omg im sorryyyy.... idk I wanted to right something that hurt okay okay bye (:

masterlist | send requests

You hated funerals. 

The suffocating smell of formaldehyde and roses wafted through the wake hall. The sounds of distant friends and relatives feigning grief, playing up small interactions with the deceased as more than just pleasantries while siblings and best friends' voices seem to be gone with a lack of words to express their suffering. The stale cookies and donuts in the hall, as if someone’s lover isn’t lying in a casket 50 feet away. All wrapped up in black dresses, suits, and handkerchiefs.

You hated funerals.

Today was no exception. An agent lost on a routine mission in Guam, taking out an arms dealer terrorizing a village. There were loose connections to Hydra, but just petty violence and shootouts for nothing. It shouldn’t have resulted in the loss of an agent. But sometimes things go wrong. A gun barrel stalls, someone trips, a civilian happens to be in the way. Sometimes people die. That’s how you ended up here.

Sarah was a good agent, a great one. She was top of her class at Westpoint, went straight to the FBI, and was recruited into SHIELD- all before 30. She was good- too good for a slip-up like this.

As speeches wrapped up, family and friends began to say their goodbyes. A line formed at the casket as people poured their hearts out for the redhead you once called a friend. You waited patiently at the back, making sure you were one of the last. You always did. Maybe out of respect, perhaps guilt? Who knows. You always felt guilt, even if there was nothing to be done. There was guilt.

Finally, as the small crowd left the room, flooding into the hall outside, you made your way to the front. Laid out before you, Sarah’s curly and wild hair was in two thick braids on each side of her head, a blue dress covering her as well as a soft cream cardigan. She looked beautiful and peaceful. But she was dead. Your friend was dead. No makeup or pretty clothes would lessen that blow. The plush velvet of the casket seemed to soften the prison that her body would rest in. At every funeral, you were reminded of how you wished to be cremated.

“I’ve never seen her hair so flat,” you turned to see Bucky standing beside you.

“You know, even wet her hair always seemed to spring up. Had a mind of its own,” you said, your gaze resting on him.

He was clad in a simple black suit, an older set you’d gotten him at a vintage shop. Something familiar. A simple cream button-down, no tie. It was simple, but that was him. What was most striking though was his serene demeanor. It never seemed to settle with you how unaffected by death he was. How easily he was able to gather himself and keep going. You couldn’t blame him though, 90 years of pain, death, torture, and violence will do that to you. You’d only seen him torn up once. And it was beyond devastating. Steve. “You okay, kid?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

He was your partner, in every sense of the word. In the field, as a friend, in life. He was everything. Your taut shoulders melted under the firm comfort of his vibranium arm. You could rest in its embrace a thousand times and never cease to crave its solace when away. He was your rock through every debriefing, call to family, black dress, and smeared mascara. Who knows what you would be without him?

You rested your head on his chest, breathing in the potent smell of his old cologne and something that was distinctly Bucky. 

“I hate funerals.”

——

“Do you ever think about dying?”

Bucky’s grip on you tightened slightly at your words. Wrapped in the soft linen of your duvet and the sunlight streaming in through your windows, his body lay around yours. His short choppy locks were tousled fresh from his slumber. The previous night’s sleep had yet to let go of his consciousness fully, still cozy and relaxed in your shared bed. His vibranium fingers continued to play with your hair as he considered your question.

“Not anymore,” he said.

Your face scrunched in confusion at his words. Your fingers traced gently over the thick scars on his left shoulder. They mangled and twisted, sprouting in angry red from the line where his skin met vibranium. Shuri had done her best to soften the tissue when replacing his arm, but only so much could be done.

“I did a lot when I was first drafted. I was scared of it then. And in those early days under Hydra. It was all-consuming. But at some point, I wasn’t scared of it, I embraced it- prayed for it,” your fingers froze at his words. It was nothing new to you, you had spent countless late nights and early mornings recounting the abuse of his days as the Winter Soldier. But hearing him say flat out how he wished to die. That was jarring. “After the Blip, I’ve just become a bit numb to it. I don’t really think about it if that makes sense. It could always happen.”

His hands danced down your spine as if his words were simple.

“You expect it?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“It’s the job, Y/N. It comes with the territory. Sometimes you lose people. And it could always be you,” he said, giving you a soft look. “You know that, doll”.

“I just, I don’t expect it in the field you know?” you relaxed a bit, regretting the subject you forced upon him.

“Hey, maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it,” he said, giving you a ginger smile as he leaned close and cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Death has just followed me for a long time, doll. I mean I’m a 106. I’m just not scared of it anymore.”

You tucked yourself into his chest, his words soothing the fears swirling in your mind. You knew the job was dangerous. That any mission could be the last. You just hoped it would never be him.

“Why do you always pick the heaviest topics of discussion early in the morning?” he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep. He smiled as you chuckled against his chest. 

“Probably cause I’m hungry, Plum,” you said, turning to lay on your back as you smiled up at him. 

“Yea? What could we do about that, huh?” that devilish smirk of his could stop your heart anytime and you’d be grateful. “Pancakes? Clinton St?” 

You nodded eagerly at his suggestion before taking his hand and slipping from the bed.

——

The rumbling of the quinjet shot up your spine. Sam and Bucky’s relentless bickering filled the steel jet as you came closer to your destination. Your gloved hands worked at strapping your knives to your thighs as they quarreled over how best to stain wooden beams in Sam’s living room during your and Bucky’s next trip down to Louisiana.

“No! NO! Buck, that stain doesn’t go with the accent wood in the kitchen! I already told you,” Sam said as he fixed his shield to his back. You chuckled as you walked over to them. Your backup squad, full of agents fresh from SWORD’s training academy, snickered at the two men as Bucky rolled his eyes.

“The beams are in your living room, what does it matter?” He said. 

“I wouldn’t take any interior design advice from him, he wanted a purple couch in our living room,” you said, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist. Sam laughed as he turned to grab the mission report. The jet was drawing close, entering stealth mode and preparing for landing.

“It was a plum color,” Bucky grumbled, nuzzling his face into your hair. 

“Okay team, huddle up!” Sam said. “This is just a simple in and out. We gotta get these hostages out safely so no risky moves- I’m lookin’ at you, Buck.”

Bucky threw his hand up in defeat, scoffing jokingly under his breath. 

“I’ll swoop through and scout entrances, Squad Two you’ll be with me for direct combat. We’re clearing out the building. Squad One, you’ll be with Y/N and Bucky, you’re getting those hostages out. You bring them straight back here, got it? There’s four so it shouldn’t be too strenuous,” he said, closing up his report before slipping on his cowl. “Alright team, let’s show ‘em what we got.”

——

Fluorescent red light filtered across your face as you slipped through the hallways. Half the squad led ahead of you, banging on doors in search of the hostages. Bucky hung close behind you, the rest of your squad keeping your entrance open for your escape. His hand rested on the gun strapped to his hip as he kept an eye on your blind spots.

Watching your back on the field was second nature to him. Protecting you, be it on the subway or in an active battle zone, was something he felt born to do. A reason to survive all those years under Hydra.

After several doors, your team stopped; having heard the pleas for help on the other end of the steel doors, they backed up to allow room for an agent to blast the lock. You stumbled back into Bucky, tripping on your own feet. His arms caught you before you could even glance at the floor. You felt his fingers gripping your hips and fidgeting with the straps on your thighs as you straighten.

“Some reflexes you got,” you whispered to him.

“Can’t let my babydoll fall,” he said, kissing the back of your head before his focus shifted back to the lock, now falling to the floor.

The agents flooded into the room, pulling hostages out and bringing them back into the hall. As they streamed out, you realized something was wrong. You only counted 3.

“Where’s the fourth hostage?” you asked. 

Bucky commed Sam, hoping he’d scanned the place and found a lead. As he spoke, you gathered the agents, giving them an order. Lead them through the building, get out to the other half of the squad, and get them into the jet. You’d meet them on the other side. You and Bucky would find the last hostage. The agents fled, leaving you and Bucky alone in the dark hallway. 

“Where are they?” you asked. Bucky sighed, as he grabbed a knife from his hip.

“In the lab in the basement, must’ve been the first to get taken,” he said.

The hostages weren’t nobodies. Prisoners were taken from SWORD on a mission to squash a newly established radical group. A group that seemed to resonate with the ideas of Hydra. This mission was all too familiar to Bucky, and all the more upsetting. You gave his free hand a firm squeeze before you turned and bolted to the lab.

You could feel the heaviness of the lab as soon as you entered the basement. The looming presence of the sterile room filled the hallways as you stalked toward it. Bucky was unusually quiet as he covered you from behind. You knew this was triggering, it had to be. He would always tell you he was beyond triggered episodes, having gotten a firm grasp on his PTSD. But you knew better. The subtle tremor in his brow told you so.

As you reached the eerie room, you stilled. Bucky came up behind you, resting a hand on your waist as you assessed the space. Metal shelves lined the walls full of jars, syringes, and test tubes. Sleek steel tables with rags soaked in blood, white grimy cabinets full of scalpels and needles, and an operating table at the center. The floors were coated in grot, each crack in the tile stained brown. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder if this condition was what Bucky was used to for all those decades.

Realizing the area was clear, you entered. Quickly, you spotted the hostage. Strapped to a chair in the corner with an IV jabbed into his arm. Bucky squeezed your arm as he headed over, slipping his knife back on his hip. 

You felt a pit growing in your stomach. You pulled your gun gently. This hostage didn’t look familiar, you thought Sam said he was a brunette, not blonde.

Bucky began to break the straps holding the man down. Slipping the IV gently from his arms, Bucky eased him up into a sitting position. He spoke to the man calmly, explaining to him who you were and that he was here to get him out. He seemed off, but Bucky just assumed it was the experimentation. He was wrong.

“Do you know who we are?” Bucky asked, helping the man up.

“I know who you are, Soldat,” the man said.

A chill ran through your legs, almost toppling you over. You reached for your gun, but the man was quicker. He was able to log four bullets into Bucky’s chest before you could get one in his skull. 

Shots rang out in the room, flooding your ears. As soon as you pulled the trigger, the man fell to the ground. Your bullet nestled into the side of his head. Your hands were shaky as the gun fell from your grasp, clattering across the floor and sending echoes through the rotting room. Of course it was a trap. The rubber of your boots squeaked as you sprinted your way over to your lover. He stumbled back against the filthy wall, his hands pressing firmly on the holes scattered across his chest.

As soon as you reached him, his legs seemed to give out. Everything in you tried to keep him up, your hands gripping the straps of his suit to keep him from surrendering to the floor. But he was too heavy. You followed him down, gathering him in your arms and holding him close. His breathing was labored and rough. Squeaks and coughs escaping from his punctured lungs haunted your ears, taunting you as you desperately tried to get him to stand.

“Baby, baby come on… you gotta get up, love,” you said, pulling him as you tried to get his attention.

His eyes were fixed on the mess in his chest. Blood bloomed across the fabric of his blue suit like a watercolor painting. His hands slipped from their place over the wounds and grasped yours. 

“Y/N…” he said. You froze at his voice. It was weak and unsteady. His grip on your hand was tight, too tight. He was always so gentle with you. As if you were glass under his hands and he was afraid you cracked. Now, he gripped you so hard you were afraid your bones would fracture.

“Bucky, you gotta get up. You’re gonna be okay,” you said as you tried to stay calm, but your voice failed you. You commed Sam, “Sam, Sam! Bucky’s down, I need help please!” 

You tried your best to stop the bleeding, tearing fabric from your pants to stuff the wound and slow the blood. But it didn’t seem to help. Bucky’s vibranium hand rose to your cheek, holding you steady. You mumbled to yourself, beginning to panic as blood spilled onto your hand; it stained the groves in your knuckles and cakes in your fingertips. Bucky’s coughing finally brought you out of your spiral. Blood began to trickle from his mouth.

“Doll…I can’t- I can’t breathe,” he said, his voice hoarse from the blood filling his throat.

“Bucky, hang on for me okay, please,” you said, your hands grasping his face and pulling yourself closer. You pressed a firm kiss to his forehead. When you pulled back, you could see it in his eyes.

“Y/N, I’m scared…” you felt bile rise in your throat at his words. The reality of the situation began to set in. Sam’s glitchy voice rang through your coms but you barely registered it.

“You’re okay, plum. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re gonna be okay,” you said. Your voice was frantic and distraught. The need to reassure him he would make it was overwhelming. But was it for him or you? Perhaps if you kept repeating it, doomsday would stay at bay.

His hands returned to yours, grabbing them and pulling you close as another cough racked his body. Blood speckled across your hands. You were white in the face, all the color drained.

“I…I love you, kid,” he said, his grip loosening. 

“No, baby, you’re gonna be okay. Sam’s on the way, it’s-”

“Y/N, I love you,” your hands gripped his tighter, wishing the firm hold he had minutes ago would return as his hands became limp in yours.

“… I love you, Buck,” you said softly, resting your forehead on his.

You pulled him close, kissing his lips one last time. You felt his breathing slow, his lips still. You didn’t pull back, you couldn’t. You knew what would await. A thick sob slipped through your chest. 

You tucked yourself further into his body, pulling him close and wrapping your arms around him. His head rested tucked into the crook of your neck, your hand tangled into his hair. You closed your eyes as you pressed your face into his hair, your free hand stroking his back and you rocked his now limp body. And you waited for Sam.

——

The smell of formaldehyde was the same, but no roses- Bucky preferred lilacs. You didn’t want the standard service, but SWORD insisted. No speeches, except for the pastor leading the service. You didn’t want any speeches, you knew Bucky would agree. 

You sat in the back, behind the small crowd of agents, friends, and the team you had come to consider family. Sam kept looking over his shoulder, keeping an arm behind him and resting on your knee. Perhaps he was trying to stop its shaking through the service or just to bring you comfort.

The service was simple, it was quiet. It was small. But it didn’t change anything. 

You hated funerals.

**taglist has been reset! let me know if you'd like to be added**

[creativesplat]

So I've been cooking up this AU in my brain for a little while now - I'm not sure what to call it, maybe 'He's Not Back'?

The Sea Grunkles are sea grunkling, and Stan starts to have dreams about Bill, has some knowledge of things he thinks he shouldn't, and has occasional Bill related hallucinations. Both Stan and Ford are quick to jump to the same conclusion: Bill is alive and in Stan's mind.

The thing is they're both wrong.

Stan has a fragile mind and has been memory wiped, so he is remembering bits and pieces of his past as mullet!Stan (including nasty stuff, like where is best to stab a guy if your cornered (which is violent and therefore Stan chalks it up to Bill))

He's hallucinating on occasion, which if he could remember, was one of the (several) reasons he went to a psych ward in the 90s, and therefore he would ordinarily put it down to stress. The thing is, he doesn't know that now.

He and Bill have some sort of psychic connection - Bill doesn't use it much, because in the Theraprism he's not really allowed to, but on occasion he and Stan nerd out about the Duchess Approves in Stan's Mindscape, Bill isn't back, just trying to make a friend

I don't know if I'll ever end up doing anything with this, but I thought why not get it out there!

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade is having a stay-in date night with Ness, and this means the kitchen light is traded for a colored one, candles, half burnt pasta, cheap wine, and Careless Whisper blasting throughout the appartment complex.

He starts off with some cringy dance while V is up on the counter, rolling her eyes and smiling, but she can't help but feel like there was something different about Wade. Yeah, she knew this dance. She knew the routine of his 'serenade' and his littlw two step slow dance he had going on, making backup sound effects for Mr. George Micheal and eventually grabs the pasta spoon, singing into it.

This is not new, but.. something was. She couldn't put her finger on it but she knew her boyfriend. She knew him well enough to become engaged to him, break up with him, and start dating again.

It was like he was glowing.

But why?

"Tonight the music seems so loud! I wish that we could lose this crowd-" His non existsnt eyebrows wiggle, and Vanessa can't help but to almost spit out her wine.

"Maybe it's better this way, We'd hurt each other with the things we want to say!" He shouts into the pasta sauce covered spoon, leaning into her a bit as she rolls her eyes again, looking up at the ceiling. She knew what Wade wanted. He wanted to "earn" her with his performance.

God.. he really is her peacock, wasn't he?

"We could have been so good together! We could have lived this dance forever!" Taking her arm, He pulls her waist closer to him, connecting their foreheads with those pretty heart eyes of his beaming into hers with such love struck gleam.

"But now who's gonna dance with me? Please staaaayy~" He sings loudly, letting her go enough for V to notice that Logan is now staring too, the same lop sided love struck small smile on his face.

"And I'm never gonna dance again- Guilty feet have got no rhythm!!" He says, dropping onto his knees and arching his back, using her hand to keep his balance.

"You didn't have any to begin with!"

She hears, looking up to see Logan smirking as Wade jumps to his feet. "ExcUSE me!? My bad, not everything is a waltz, old man! Like seriously, when's the last time you could do anything but a simple one two three? Lincoln's wedding!?" He calls over the counter and Logan grunts, his joints popping as he gets off the couch.

Wades eyes widden with dangerous excitment as he turns to her. "Oh now, im in for it!"

"Damn right. I can do more then Waltz, you know."

"Oh, yeah!? Like what? Square dance?!"

"Whats wrong with square dancing!?"

Then it clicked.

Him.

That's what was different about Wade.

Logan had changed him. Unconsiously, for the better. He was so... Happy. He was like a missing puzzle piece to complete Wades purpose of being, mirroring what Wade needed, even if that meant insulting his dancing skills mid date.

Grinning widely like a moron with a crush, he changes the song- Wade was serious. He would never dance with anyone else except V to that song ever again- Pushing next on their shuffle only for Madonna to come on.

Squealing, he waves his hands, shoving the pasta spoon back into the pot then took Logan's hands. "Can you swing?"

"S-swing?- Woah!! Hey!"

"You wanted to dance so were dancing!"

"I didn't say that!"

As she listens to them bicker, she laughs as she watches Logan awkwardly step on Wade's foot multiple times.

"Ouch!! Hey! I'm regenerative, not indestructible! You're like 400 pounds!!" He teases, and the blush on Logan's face is something she wants to take a picture of, watching as he tries to teach Wade how to 'properly dance', spinning him around, holding his wasit and dipping him at certian parts.

"Ahh!! Don't drop me!!"

"I'm not going to drop you, Stop screaming!"

"Ness!! He's gonna drop me!"

She giggles, giving Logan a playful finger wag. "Hey do you mind? He needs all the braincells he can keep!"

"Yeah! Cancer already ate half of them!"

"Oh, sssuurree, just the cancer, definitely not how many times youve made me shove my-"

"Lo-Lo!!! Not in front of Nessy!!" He whines, being spun again.

"Oh shut up, i'm not going to embarrass you infront of Vanessa-" he turned to her, whispering "I so am"

"I HEARD THAT!"

"What? It's not my fault your game is weak." Logan teases him, giving her a playful nod, putting his hand out for her to take "Ma'am."

She laughs, hearing Wade suddenly complain that he wasn't supposed to be stealing his date.

"Maybe she wants to dance with a real man-" Logan coes, gently taking V and spinning her too... Vanessa could see why Wade liked him.. he was quite strong. And a gentleman.

"My gender blindness has NOTHING to do with this!" Wade whined in a high-pitched tantrum like sound, grabbing her waist and pulling her into him instead.

Oh great. And now they were fighting over her.

Gosh... Maybe she has two Peacocks...

[fictional-reylin]

A simple one-shot of Aizawa and his cat gf. People usually write the reader as an opposite to him, but I wanted to experiment with a reader who has a similar personality, maybe even somber. Enjoy !

You are welcome to send requests/asks. Just make sure to read my rules.

As you sat by your desk, working away on your computer, you could hear the sounds of rain hitting on your window. Despite being partially a cat, you liked the rain, it brought to you a strange sense of comfort that you couldn't really explain, like it was a sign that this was going to be a peaceful evening for you.

You looked out through said window and began staring at the droplets sliding down the glass, watching them connect as they slid down, until you saw Shōta's reflection. Not very clear, but you could still see his usual tired expression that greeted you every time he came back from UA.

"You look dead" you said turning around to face him, your usual deadpan expression in place. "Did someone steal your sleeping bag at work ?”

"Verry funny y/n. Did the rain traumatise you ?” He said referring to your face. Never mind his tired state, he quickly made his way over to you and pulled you into a hug by your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You let out a hum of contentment before wrapping your own arms around his shoulder, hiding your face in his chest, seeking shelter from the cold weather that managed to get into your shared apartment. He was always so warm, it always made you sleepy.

You stayed like this, almost falling asleep, until he started toying with your tail and you shot your eyes open in slight annoyance. Looking up at him, you saw that cocky smirk that adorned his face every time he would do something like this.

“Seriously ?”

“Blame yourself for dating a cat person” He answered, kissing the top of your head.

You were never really annoyed at him. You enjoyed his little shenanigans, how he would always scratch your ears, tell you to purr for him or play with your tail. It was a sweet reminder that your quirk wasn’t just something that made your life more difficult because of loud noises or tail getting stuck somewhere. For him it was a cute part of yourself that he could adore as much as the rest of you.

Of course, you would never admit that to his face. Communication wasn’t really your strong suit, and neither was it his, but you always managed to understand each other through your actions, and that’s what made him all the more attractive in your eyes. You could still be this quiet and introverted self, and he would still get you as if he had read your mind

“But seriously, you look tired. We should nap” you dragged him towards your bed without waiting for his answers, pulling him down with you and laying on his chest under the covers. In the short amount of time that you two dated, you quickly understood that he enjoyed this, being able to wind down, with you clinging to him, your soft purrs rumbling through your chest and your tail wrapped somewhere around his body.

He wrapped his arms around you, scratching the back of your head as he could finally relax in your embrace. He sighed, looking down at you with half lidded eyes.

“I love you, you know that ?”

“You show it to me like a million times a day”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing”

Not wanting to further this discussion you just kissed him, smiling against his lips as he returned the gesture

“Now shut up and let me sleep. Love you too”

And with that, you both felt asleep in each other's arms, the sweet sound of your purrs and the rain echoing somewhere in the back of your minds.

Thank you so much for reading ! If you want to join in my daydream, consider checking out my navigation.

[circle--of--confusion]

Seven Minutes in Hell

Summary: Your friendship with Copia began in the small conversations on tour as a stagehand. Over time, you developed a crush and since coming back from the tour, you haven't been able to spend any time with Copia. An offer to join him with the ghouls for an afternoon leads to a game of Spin the Bottle. This might finally give you an opportunity to be alone with him, even for a few minutes if the spins go your way.

Paring: [Papa] Copia x GN!Reader

Words: 2.4k

Tags: fluff, mutual pining, spin the bottle/seven minutes in heaven

Read on AO3

Masterlist

It was a random Saturday afternoon of relaxing with the ghouls that turned into a rambunctious Saturday evening with music, laughter, and stupid card games. Some of Copia’s ghouls, the man himself, and you were all piled on to the couches and random chairs that could be found as you chatted and decompressed after an exciting tour. Your job as a stagehand meant that every day, for the past several months, there was no such thing as “calm”. From city to city, you and the dedicated crew worked your asses off to put on great shows for all of the devoted fans of the Ghost Project.

In the chaos, though, you all found comradery. The bevy of inside jokes that were formed will live on in perpetuity in group chats and no one will ever look at a ham sandwich the same way again. If someone says “I’ll be there in five minutes!” everyone will burst into hysterical laughter and end it with a breathless “you had to be there.” for anyone who wasn’t there.

One connection you are particularly fond of is the friendship you found in Copia. The supportive thumbs up and “break a leg”s before he went on turned into brief chats as you all traveled to the next arena. You discovered that he was… adorable. In-between the pervy yet endearing persona he put on while performing, he would spout frantic words of encouragement to the crew as he rushed around to get ready. You found him peculiar, but in a charming way.

You’d end up talking on the bus after everyone fell asleep. Neither of you could sleep after getting too amped up from the show. It would start the same every time.

“Good show?” You’d ask, wondering about the crowd.

“Yes! Good crowd.” Copia would respond.

And then the topic would change to whatever random thing that was on either of your minds. It was like you had to begin with that; your own personal version of “How are you doing” ”Good. And you?”

Over the many sleepless nights, you two talked about everything. Music, movies, random trivia, old stories from your past, silly jokes that one can only come up with while being so tired they can’t sleep. You’d mentioned how Ghost got you to listen to more metal and Copia would give the occasional recommendation of a classic group or song to try. Eventually the tour bus would arrive at the next hotel and the conversation would have to end. You would have to part ways as everyone walked down the hall to their rooms.

You plucked up the courage one time to ask for his number; strictly platonic reasons of course. Copia grinned as you swapped numbers but you never saw because your head was looking down the entire time to hide a faint blush. Very soon afterwards you discovered he loves sending memes and gifs over text. He revealed that he has a folder on his phone of reaction photos to keep on standby when someone says something funny. Primo loves it, Secondo thinks he does it too much, and he thinks Sister Imperator doesn’t understand some of them but she humors him because Copia’s her son.

In that span of time, you developed a crush. It makes you recoil at the fact that you have one as a grown adult but that’s the only word to describe the feeling you get when Copia’s hand brushes past yours as you pass one another in the hall. One of the few highlights of your days on tour was when you get to see him to say “break a leg!” and he pretends to act like he doesn’t know the meaning. His dramatic gasp along with an eyebrow raise and hand clutching his chest cause you to giggle every time.

You’ve debated whether it’s a good idea to ask him out; waiting for him to do it might take forever and you don’t have that time.  The idea that he might not feel the same way holds you back. It’s very hard to figure out if Copia likes you romantically or if he’s just being nice.

Which brings you to your current setting. Copia was passing by you in the ministry and asked if you wanted to join him… with his ghouls for the day. It hasn’t been awful! But you haven’t actually had some time alone with him like before when you were touring. You’d jumped at the opportunity but now are regretting it as one of the ghouls are now suggesting you all play “Spin the Bottle” with the now empty glass soda bottle they drank from.

“You can just spin it for fun.” Phantom says to anyone who may not be in the mood for kissing.  

And so you play along, the bottle occasionally pointing towards you where you have a kiss planted to your cheek or forehead. It’s your third turn when the bottle spins around and the opening stops to point directly at Copia.

“Oh…” You say, voice sounding small.

Copia scoffs playfully. “Well don’t look so sad about it.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that.” You stammer. “We’re just friends, right? You don’t have to kiss me or anything.” Just friends ugh.

He laughs through his nose and extends out his arm. “Give me your hand.”

You hold it out across the table for him. Copia holds your wrist in place while he leans down to press a soft, too gentle kiss to the inside of it over your veins. You almost don’t feel it but it’s there, black smudge and all on your skin after he lets go. You hope he didn’t feel the rush of blood through your body as your heartbeat picks up. You were prepared for him to kiss your knuckles not your wrist. That spot is a bit more… intimate.

“See? That wasn’t so awful?” He smiles as you nod your head slowly and a few of the ghouls look at each other in that moment. Copia once said they could communicate telepathically and you thought he was joking but he may have been on to something.  

Attempting to carry on, you look down. “Alright! So now it’s my turn.” Your hand holds the bottle; spinning around and around it goes until landing on… Copia. Oh no.

“Ah! I see you wanted more?” He teases and you cover your face to hide the blush that’s formed. You lean over, meeting him halfway. Copia raises his hand for you to reciprocate a kiss on his. He’s wearing the same leather gloves he always wears and you’ve now kissed the soft and smooth material that haunts your dreams. Routinely you wake up to what it might feel like to have his non-gloved hands on you; wondering how he might feel while holding your hips or grasping your hands while you lay together in the evenings, recounting your day.

The action feels sinful even in this friendly context and you hope the deep red blush on your face isn’t too notable in the low light of the room. He held out his hand to you as if you were a devoted member of the clergy bending down to kiss a metaphorical ring. You sense a slight tremble from Copia’s end as your lips touch the leather and it pleases you just slightly that he seems overcome by the situation as well.

Copia coughs, nodding a couple times to himself as he looks down at the bottle. You look up at him and wonder how warm his face is underneath the paint and silently curse the crisp white and black pigment.  “Okie-dokie.” He spins the bottle and it points over to Mountain. Copia snorts and places a small peck to the side of his helmet.

The next few rounds pass with everyone swapping short, friendly kisses. You giggled as the bottle landed on you again and you leaned to your left to place a small smooch to Dew’s helmet. When your spin stopped, it landed on Copia again. The ghouls around you erupted in knowing “Ooooohhhh”s  

You look around at their smirking faces. “What? What are you all smiling at?”

“That’s the third time between you two.” Phantom says.

Cumulus giggles. “You know what that means? Seven minutes in Hell.”

“You can’t be serious!” You exclaim. You look over at Copia and he watches you, almost carefully. “Also isn’t it Seven minutes in Heaven”

“Them’s the rules, sweet cheeks. And this is a satanic ministry. So, Hell.” The ghouls laugh and Cumulus shakes her head, gesturing for you and Copia to follow her. She finds a closet nearby and opens it. The space is decently sized for the two of you and luckily there’s a light switch so you won’t be in complete darkness as the door closes.

Copia and you reluctantly walk in and once the door closes, you two look at each other with awkward smiles; there’s only a handful of inches of space between you.  

“I think this is the only alone time we’ve had since the tour ended.” You chuckle.

He shakes his shoulders as he blows a laugh through his nose. “Very sorry about that. I’ve had a lot of things to attend to since returning.”

You nod, the closet returning to silence for a few seconds.

“Would you-“

“I was thinking-“

You two nervously laugh before returning to silence.

“Uh, you first.” Copia offers.

You blush under his close gaze. “I was thinking… once you get some free time, would you want to spend some of that together? Alone?” You look into his eyes. “I like the ghouls but I miss the one-on-one time we shared.”

Copia smiles, nodding. “Yes, I’ve missed it too”

“What were you going to say?”

He looks into you with certainty, taking a breath before speaking. “Would you want to have dinner with me? Alone.” Copia grins, looking down to find your hands to hold them in his. “I’m sorry for neglecting our friendship once we all returned to the ministry. I want to return to the familiarity of seeing you every day.”

You could faint, you really could. The soft hold of your hands in his give you enough strength to stay up. “Would this meal be as friends or… a date?”

“It would be a date, tesoro.” He smirks as you let out a surprised breath.

Your head nods before you can realize it’s moving. “I’d enjoy that.” You smile and he grins back, eyes crinkling at the edges as he looks down to you. “Could I ask you another something?”

Copia nods. “Anything.”

You swallow the anxiety in your throat and rise a shaky hand to his shoulder. “Could I give you my kiss now? As the rules state: the spinner has to kiss the spinnie.”

Copia chuckles. “Where were you thinking?”

“I was thinking of your lips.”

“And just how often do you think about my lips, tesoro?” He squeezes the hand he’s still holding and you squeak.

“I’m not sure you really want that answer.” You both laugh. “Is that ok?”

“I say it’s great that you think about my lips, actually. I’ve thought about yours as well. Many times, at night after we had to part ways to our own rooms.

You shake your head playfully. “So, can I kiss you now? I think our time is almost up.”

“Please do, don’t let me keep you in suspense.” Copia winks.

Your hand on his shoulder rises to hold his face, thumb rubbing softly a couple times over his cheek before leaning up towards him while you close your eyes. And then it happens. You place a soft kiss to his lips, lightly pressing into him. The small touch between the two of you feels electric already and the beating in both of your hearts pick up tempo. His hand holding yours squeezes it again as you lean back from him after ending the kiss and removing your palm from the side of his face.

Copia lets out a small sigh as he keeps his eyes closed. You watch him, noting the smile before he opens his eyes to look deep into yours. “Good?” You ask.

“Good.” He breathes. Copia leans forward, touching his forehead to yours. “Could we do it again?”

“Yes, please.”

He pulls back and takes both of his hands to cradle your face in them. You both smile towards each other and he leans in, pressing his lips to yours with more energy. You kiss back, moving your lips with his as you each pour more passion into each other. Occasionally he’d pull back to bite down on your lip and you’d hum. You hold Copia to you, wrapping your arms around his waist to feel more of his body leaning into yours. He walks you backwards, pushing you up to the wall so he can feel closer and closer until there isn’t any space between the two of you. Soft hums of pleasure fill the small space accompanying the sounds of your kissing.

The door opens and the voice of Phantom cuts through your lovey haze, causing Copia to retreat from your lips with a huff. He rolls his eyes, briefly looking down at your lips to assess the damage. They’re a bit puffy and traces of his lip paint are smudged on you. He smiles, satisfied that a part of him has been left behind on you. You smile back realizing the smudging around his mouth is because of what you just did together and how now you will have gray smudges around your lips.

“Time’s up, you two! You can go now.” Phantom says, chipper.

Copia turns with a great annoyance on his face and looks up to Phantom as if he would return the ghoul back to the pits for interrupting his moment. “No. You go, now.” He shoos the ghoul away and closes the closet door, locking it.

You laugh, feeling light and happy, looking at his determined face as he turns back to you. “Copia! What are you-?”

“Making up for lost time, tesoro. I want to be alone with you for just a bit longer here before I take you to my room.” Copia smirks, leaning back down to continue the passionate kiss he had to leave a moment ago. You gasp into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him again and hum delightedly into him. Don’t let me stop you you think to yourself.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)

[gothamite-rambler]

A Day in the park (Tim Drake comfort fic)

Tim Drake rested on his stomach on the floor of his bedroom, resting his head on his bent arm. Old jazz music played loudly from a record player connected to a large speaker, filling the dim room with melancholy melodies. The curtains were drawn tight blocking the midafternoon sun and casting shadows over the scattered remnants of what had once been a vibrant space.

A year had passed since his father’s death and two years since his mother had died. Losing both parents as a teenager felt surreal; they were simply gone from his life. Tim thought he would cope with grief and loss with ease like his hero, Dick Grayson had when faced a similar loss at least that's what he thought.

All he felt was the crushing weight of the world, with knowledge setting in his parents weren't coming back. On significant days commemorating his parents, Tim’s energy was replaced with spiraling sorrow. He often locked himself away in his room, isolating himself from everything and everyone. The absence of Jack and Janet loomed heavily over him, an unshakable presence that colored every moment.

Tim (voice heavy with despair): I hate life.

His eyes glazed over, staring blankly into the distance.

Tim (fighting his emotions): I’m not going to cry. I won’t cry… I just have to celebrate his birthday… that’s the least I can do si- since I couldn’t save him. God, what's the point of doing anything anymore?

He groaned, his gaze lost in the void, as if seeking answers in the emptiness, but was only met with silence.

Hallway Outside Tim's Room

Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson stood outside the closed door to Tim's room, both concerned since Tim had been shutting down on days that were linked to his parents and it seemed he was getting worse.

Bruce: How long has he been in there?

Dick checked his watch.

Dick: He started at 5 in the morning, so that’s about 16 hours.

Bruce crossed his arms, a look of concern on his face.

Bruce: It’s not Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. His mother’s birthday and death anniversary aren’t until—

Dick (raising a hand): Bruce, it has officially been a year since his father, you know, died and he found him there.

Bruce (rubbing his chin, pondering): Hm, thought he'd be passed this already.

Dick (giving Bruce a pointed look): Mm-hm, and how well did you handle your parents’ death?

Bruce (defensively): Okay, I was eight when they were shot and killed in an alley.

Dick blinked slowly, irritation washing over him as he covered his eyes with his hand, listening to yet another excuse from his father. Despite being adopted, they had both endured the same experience.

Dick (irritated tone): Bruce, I went through the same thing. I watched mine hit the ground after being shot!

Bruce (deadpan): It's not a competition, and if it were, I'd win.

Dick (forcing a sugary tone): Why don’t you just go off and be all emo somewhere else? I’ve got this covered.

Bruce (firmly): All I’m saying is maybe this is tied to something about his parents, and he needs to patrol to clear his mind.

Dick (annoyed): Bruce, last week he walked into a burning building—not to save anyone. He just went in and sat down. I had to drag him out, and his body was limp.

Bruce (shrugging): It happens.

Dick (rubbing his forehead in frustration): Yeah, well, it wasn’t fun carrying you out of a building when I was ten. Just leave.

Bruce (sticking to his idea): I was just suggesting options. He’ll be fine; he’s done this before.

Dick (voice rising): That’s not a healthy coping mechanism! He walked in on his father’s dead body!

Tim cranked up the volume on the loudspeaker, wanting to drown out the ramblings of his family and block everything but the music from his mind. Bruce glanced at Dick, then shook his head in silence.

Bruce (flatly): Fine. You handle him, Dr. Phil.

Dick: (crossing his arms): Okay, that was uncalled for.

Dick sighed, setting aside his frustration with Bruce’s disregard for Tim’s obvious depression, and knocked on the door.

Dick: Tim, do you want to hang out with me today?

Tim pressed his face against the floor, making it impossible for Dick to hear him.

Tim (voice muffled): There’s no point in doing anything today. Let me wallow in the depths of my despair.

Dick (sincere helpful tone): We can get lunch, see a movie, whatever you want.

Tim groaned as he pushed himself off the floor and trudged over to the door. Under normal circumstances, he would have leaped at the opportunity, but today was different. When he opened the door, Dick took a step back, taken aback by Tim's disheveled appearance.

Dick (holding his nose): Have you showered at all?

Tim (hollow tone): No. I’m staying in until my dad’s birthday is over. Just leave me be.

With that, Tim shut the door again, returned to his original spot on the floor, and flopped back down, squeezing his eyes shut and resting a hand on the back of his head.

Dick (sudden realization): Dad's birthday! That’s today.

He lingered for a beat, recognizing the inappropriateness of his reaction.

Dick (cont’d): With that in mind, Bruce and I will give you the space you need.

Tim (sarcastically): Fantastic.

Tim hit replay on his dad’s favorite jazz song for the fifteenth time, closing his eyes as memories of happier moments washed over him.

---Wayne Manor Kitchen- Three Hours Later---

Tim finally emerged from his room, propelled by thirst and a craving for juice. He walked past Jason in silence, retrieved a bottle of pomegranate juice from the fridge, and sank heavily into a chair at the kitchen table. Jason glanced up from his phone, noting how worn out Tim appeared.

Jason: Hi, Tim.

Tim grunted, uncapping the bottle and chugging from it. Jason eyed him, puzzled by his behavior.

Jason: You okay?

Tim (drained): I feel nothing.

Jason (nodding): Mm-hm, you look like a crazy homeless guy outside my apartment.

Tim (deadpan): That’s pretty spot on.

Jason: Have you taken a shower? Because you—

Tim (insulting himself): Smell like I bathed in skunk juice and then doused myself in air freshener? I'm aware.

Jason nodded, picking up the empty juice container, astonished that Tim had downed it entirely, and taken aback by the stark change in his demeanor from bright, lively, and snarky to this despondent state. Tim’s gaze remained fixated on the ceiling.

Tim: The bright bulbs in the ceiling hurt my eyes.

Jason: That happens when you’ve been hiding in your room for too long.

Tim: I deserve this isolation... I wish I’d died twice to save them. Now all I have left are dead parents, depression, ADHD, and anxiety. What’s the point of being productive?

Jason (feeling awkward but trying to be civil): You’re not wrong.

Tim (hopeless): There’s no point... in anything. I couldn’t save them... I’m not a hero.

Jason grabbed Tim by his shirt, pulling him up firmly.

Jason: I can’t deal with this. We’re going outside!

Tim (somber): I want to lie here in my sorrow. At least feeling mentally dead brings me a little closer to my parents.

Jason shoved Tim into the back seat of his car, where Tim slumped against the seats, whimpering softly.

Jason: We can deal with that where I'm taking you.

He started the engine and drove off leaving the Wayne Manor.

Jason (cont’d): By the way, Tim, you’re channeling more emo than Bruce on a good day. We need to change that. Fresh air and—burning those clothes.

Tim (muffled due to his face buried in the seats): Uggggghhhhhhhh.

Jason (turning up the radio): Glad you agree.

---Gotham Park - Twenty Minutes Later---

Jason strolled down a path, Tim trailing behind him like a shadow through the park. Tim longed for the solitude of his room, where he could wallow in despair, but Jason had ventured out of his own gloomy comfort zone to reach out. They had a rocky history, but that was in the past.

When they reached the top of a hill, Jason stopped at the spot, turning to face Tim.

Jason: This seems like a nice spot. You can—

Tim flopped onto the ground.

Jason: I meant you could sit down, but that works too.

He took a seat next to Tim and awkwardly patted him on the back of the head, not very skilled at offering comfort.

Jason (cont’d): Hey kid, um, how… how are you feeling?

Tim (face in the dirt): Dead inside.

Jason (trying to ease the tension): That… makes sense. I’ve been there. I was dead once, and I understand what it’s like to feel mentally dead. Not brain dead! You- You get what I mean.

Tim (annoyed as his face lay in the dirt): Mm-hm.

Tim rolled onto his back, shielding his eyes from the sun by resting his arm across his face.

Jason plucked little blades of grass while Tim let out a heavy sigh.

Tim (cont’d): You forced me to shower, change clothes, and currently I’m touching grass. Can I just go home and be sad there?

Jason: A few years ago, I would have done that, blamed you for what's happening to you, but sometimes it’s better to distract yourself when you’re feeling down. I never really got that chance, but now you have me to help you out. I'm not the best at comforting people, but I for you I'll make an exception.

Silence settled between them, prompting Jason to poke Tim’s arm to check if he was still awake.

Tim (irritated): I’m not asleep. My way of distraction is reminding myself how I failed in life. They’re both gone, and I’ve accepted that life is meaningless.

Jason (shrugging while plucking grass out of the ground): I mean, life isn’t completely meaningless. Most times it's a bitch, but you keep going. The fact I’m saying that has to mean something. Right?

Jason gave the depressed boy a half smile, but Tim wasn't having it.

Tim (bluntly): That you’re good at lying.

Jason: While that may be true, I mean it this time. Life is unfair, but you shouldn’t wallow in pity on your dad’s birthday.

Tim (voice trembling): I… just want to go home. I just want to go home. Why won’t any of leave me alone?

Tim refused to open his eyes in fear of crying.

Jason frowned, feeling a wave of empathy wash over him.

Jason (somber tone): We’ve had our... issues, if you know what I mean. You know the time I beat you up?

Tim (bitterly): When you said you made fun of my mom dying by drinking water?

Jason's eyes widened when he remembered that he did say that specific insult.

Jason: Right... I regret saying that, but that's in the past. Today, I want to be here for you. You don’t have to face this alone, even if it feels like the world is against you.

He hesitated, recalling past grievances.

Jason (cont’d): I made bad jokes about your mom and then your dad, and that’s probably why you don’t want me around right now.

Tim (despondent): You’re not wrong.

Tim didn't respond except for a quick huff from his breathing and he tried to block out any sadness that would make him break. He couldn't cry, not now, not ever and especially not in front of Jason Todd.

Jason (apologetic): And I’m... I'm sorry for what I said and the pain I accidentally put you through.

Tim: Accidentally?

Jason: That's the best you're getting out of me. You won't forgive me... I get that, but I apologizd to show you that I want to help you. You... You lost both your parents and have been holding in how you really feel for a while haven't you?

Jason (placing a hand on Tim's shoulder): Tim, it's not your fault.

Tim: Take me home.

Jason: It is not your fault that either of them died.

Tim (clenching his jaw): Shut up and take me home!

Jason: And they would want you to keep going. And people like me, Dick, Bruce, even Alfred will help you build up the strength to get out of bed without feeling hopeless.

Tim (sniffling): Why? I don’t deserve it.

Jason: You don’t deserve kindness while you grieve? I may not be your biggest fan, but you're not that bad. You’re young, smart, a decent fighter, and… a good person. You shouldn’t shut yourself off from the world because they're gone.

Tim took a deep breath as he felt the walls he put up around him falling away.

Jason: I kind of hate to even admit this, but you've proven yourself to be a decent hero. Which means you’re too damn persistent to give up on life. And we're not leaving until you just let it all out. We're on the top of a hill so we have semi-privacy.

Tim uncovered his eyes, but they remained closed. Jason waited for a response, allowing silence to linger as he gazed over the hillside.

Tim (finally speaking): I hate myself for not being able to save them. My mother... I never got to say goodbye and dad's last words to me was that he loved me. They're both gone and I feel like there could've been something for me to do to save them.

His lip quivered as he opened his eyes, then shifted down as he thought about the last words from his dad.

Tim: I thought I'd have all the time to talk to them, hug them and... they tell they love me. Now I’m alone and it's all my fault.

He covered his eyes again, letting a cascade of tears fall.

Tim (cont’d): I thought things would change when he woke up from the coma, but I got busy with... this life I thought I wanted! Then the last image I have of him is his... bloody corpse. I just remember shaking him awake like that would do anything.

Jason nodded, a sympathetic expression as he placed a hand on Tim's shoulder to comfort him.

Tim: They're both dead. They're both... dead. I'm the reason they're gone.

He wept softly, releasing the guilt he had buried beneath indifference. His heavy breaths echoed in the quiet space. Jason remained by his side, awkwardly patting Tim's shoulder for comfort.

Jason: Don’t blame yourself for things beyond your control. I swear, everyone in this family has blamed themselves for their parents' deaths.

Tim (between sobs): Not you.

Jason (bluntly): I shielded my mom who betrayed me to the Joker, before a bomb went off and killed us both. Believe me, I’m just as crazy as the rest of you.

He attempted to ease the tension with a joke, but Tim merely whimpered and gritted his teeth. Jason sighed but refused to give up.

Jason (cont’d): Come on, sit up.

Jason helped Tim sit up, positioning himself closer. Tim kept his head down, a frown clouding his face.

Tim (sadness in his voice): Now I’m crying like an idiot.

Jason (reassuringly): I’m not judging you for crying. If you were crying for something mundane I would, but let it out like I said.

Tim (loud): I hate this. I hate this. I just want my parents back!

Taking a deep breath, Tim said something he had never wanted to confess, especially in front of Jason. Jason patted the young man on the back again, it was his best way to comfort the person he tried to kill in the past.

Tim (cont'd): I remember when... when I thought it sucked they weren't around that much, but they were still in my li- life. I'd take barely around parents over ones I'll never see again.

Jason: Hm... What's something both of them likes?

Tim: My mom loved dandelions. She said weeds or not the cotton ball flowers always made her happy to see. I remember one time she picked a bunch of them in a field once when we... Went on vacation together. She looked so happy with those stupid flowers.

Tim chuckled while crying.

Tim: And my dad... He loved jazz music. Couldn't sing it, but he would play it almost every night to the point I got sick of it. I got sick of it and... Now I can't stop listening to it.

Tim bit down lightly on his finger as Jason sat next to him.

Jason (sympathetically): It's tough adjusting to that at a young age. Sorry to bring Bruce and Dick into this, but they've been through it... Fuck, I went through it and when time passes it... gets easier to manage.

Tim whimpered wiping tears from his eyes.

Jason (sincere): You say that you couldn't save them and you're a failure. You’re many things to me, Timmy boy, but someone who wouldn't want to protect others is not who you have ever been.

Jason gently nudged Tim.

Jason (cont’d): I’m not letting you go home feeling like Bruce. By the end of today, you'll feel slightly better. What do you want to do first? We can sit here, grab some food, hit the bookstore or library, or even go to a rage room—whatever you want, the day is yours.

Jason waited for answer, surprising Tim.

Tim (sniffling): What’s a rage room?

Jason: It’s a place where you can smash things. You pay to enter, get a bat or a golf club, and for thirty minutes or an hour, you just let loose on some broken stuff. It’s oddly therapeutic.

Tim: That actually sounds fun or maybe I’m just losing it.

Jason: Probably both. Want to go?

Tim lifted his head, considering the idea.

Tim (wiping his eyes): Why are you doing this? I thought you hated me.

Jason: Um… I did, but I've changed to toleratibg you. I can see you’re hurting, and I don’t want to act like I don’t care. You deserve more than that. Don't get used to me being this nice though.

Tim: If I get better don't expect seeing me cry like this.

Jason (smiling earnesly): Sounds good to me. I thought you were just this annoying ric— upper middle class brat who stole my mantle— which you are—but you’ve grown on me.

Tim: This feels like a trick, like you’re going to toss me in your car and drive off a bridge or something worse. Which I'd deserve…

Jason: I’m not going to kill you; that’s out of my system. But for the rest of the day, drop the self-hate—that’s my specialty.

Tim wiped his nose, a dry laugh escaping him.

Tim: Maybe you are the best person for this. Plus, you dragged me out of the house, and I’m too depressed to drive or walk home....All right, take me to the rage room first.

Jason nodded, helping Tim stand to his feet.

Jason: That’s the spirit, let’s go. Then we can hit the Waffle House.

Tim: Isn't that place dangerous?

Jason: I have a gun. We’ll be fine.

As they walked, Tim hesitated.

Tim: Did Dick tell you to do this? If he did, you’re not obligated to-

Jason (interrupting): Yeah, Dick called me about what you were going through, but he never asked me to step in. I wanted to help… myself; this is too important to hand off to someone else.

Tim managed a weak smile, appreciating the gesture.

Tim: I still have my doubts, but I appreciate this—for now.

Jason: Just don’t expect this from me all the time. I do feel bad for you, but against my better judgment, I'd rather make you feel less dead inside than laugh at you.

Tim (judgement tone): Or send me a Christmas card with you next to my mom’s grave?

Jason laughed.

Jason: That was a fun Christmas card, wasn’t it?

Tim rolled his eyes, but after a moment, he let out a dry chuckle.

Tim: I can’t believe this is happening, but your jadedness is lifting my spirits.

As they continued toward the car, a small weight began to lift from Tim's heart.

Tim (cont’d): If you have a picture at my dad's grave though, I'm beating you with a wiffle bat.

Jason chuckled, feeling lighter himself.

Jason: That’s the Tim I remember! No worries, I’m not that much of an asshole anymore.

Tim: We’ll see.

They climbed into Jason’s car, the atmosphere lightening.

Jason: All right, let’s get to that rage room. No crying there; you can do that afterward.

Tim nodded, giving a thumbs-up while resting his head against the window as they drove away. His guilt and depression wasn't gone, but Jason's support was a good start.

[givethemsmut]

Cody Rhodes x Reader

Made of Gold | Chapter Six

I pretended to not be bothered the whole time the girls gossiped and gabbed about their jobs.

Every time I caught Brandi’s eyes cascade over me I simply smiled in her direction. I felt like a politician’s wife, keeping myself from pressing her intentions.

Cody reappeared, that same smile he flashed, but I could tell his eyes were a storm. The blue suddenly seemed more fogged and his body didn’t seem relaxed anymore.

Walking over to him casually, hiding every ounce of excitement to be rescued by him. Offering my lips to his, he pressed his mouth to mine, only deepening the simple peck. His tongue slipped inside my mouth and I instantly knew he noticed his ex.

He went from the Cody I knew who was always making a joke to the Cody the wrestling world knew - a performer.

This kiss was to show her he moved on.

I had nothing against making her jealous. Cody was supposed to be a fling yet here I was riding on his bus, at his job, pretending to be some trophy wife.

“Well, hello to you too.” He was still holding me against his chest, arms tightly around my waist, engulfing me in him.

“Sorry, that took forever but we had to go over the entrance and pyro. You okay? They eating you alive?”

Trying not to glance over my shoulder I noticed his eyes shift. “Met your ex girlfriend. She seems nice.”

Cody pulled away enough to lock eyes again. “I didn’t even think about her being here. All I thought about was getting the chance to be The American Nightmare here.”

I let him toy with her by using me, the way he let his hands smooth down my ass. “Don’t worry about it. We never talked about being exclusive... I can’t imagine this life promotes healthy relationship.”

Maybe I dodged a bullet.

I tried to play it casual and cool, not show my cards when I forced myself to smile even though I knew every part of me was falling for him.

I would never admit the way he noticed her and preformed hurt.

Layla warned me about the connection you’d feel to the person who took your virginity. I didn’t believe her until I met the threat of not having him anymore, a gorgeous woman named Brandi.

“Babe,” he didn’t add anything after as if he was defeated before he truly spoke.

“It’s okay, I’m gonna go freshen up on the bus. You do your thing.” I pulled away, keeping my fake smile pasted on and making sure Brandi bought every second of it.

Walking away our hands tethered until our fingers held on until they couldn’t. I found my own way back to the bus, yanking the door open, and fell into the bed we hadn’t slept in yet.

Sinking into the bed I tried to digest that Cody was boiling down to the fling. I was mentally trying to cut the invisible ties that bonded us but every time I closed my eyes I saw him ravishing me the way a stranger couldn’t.

He felt like the only person in the world who knew me. My body, my mind, the person I wanted to be instead of the trauma response I am.

Cody knew every sensitive spot, he knew exactly how much I could take before he sent me over the edge, he knew exactly what I liked when he fucked me.

How could two people fit so well physically and it mean nothing emotionally?

If Cody really wanted Brandi back then I was going to help him do just that just to not lose him. I could settle for friends.

Scrolling on my phone for way too much time I finally dug through my suitcases to find something even more sexy. I wanted to outdo all the designer backstage and I knew Brandi would be watching.

Slipping into a tight black dress that hugged every curve I paired it with thigh high boots I touched up my hair before I proudly walked back into the venue for the start of the live show.

While I got ready I did some research on WWE, who was who, and whatever else I could arm myself with.

The event had came alive, everyone running around and getting ready for their moment to shine. I could hear the fans in the stadium roar as I tried to find Cody.

Simply turning around I felt myself be pulled into a hard body. His lips pressed against mine and I felt myself melt into his arms when I realized the stranger was Cody.

My body knew him before I could even register it.

His mouth so close to mine I could taste him on my lips still, “I don’t want her back. I don’t know what she said to you but fuck her.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I tried to find a lie but came up empty. “You took my virginity but it doesn’t mean you have to pick me, Cody. Let me help you. You helped me so much.”

“Are you serious?”

Noticing her walk into view behind him I nudged him making him aware she was watching.

Gently pushing me into a wall behind us I suddenly lost track of her entirely. His eyes got dark with his hands planted against the wall, boxing me in. His tongue crept into my mouth with so much intensity I felt my clit pulse between my legs in response.

His hand swept up between my legs and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. “I don’t even have to check… I know you aren’t wearing panties by the way you want to so badly rub your knees together.”

I licked his neck up to his lips and watched him switch from hungry to starved. My lips covered his ear, whispering, “that’s perfect, keep going.”

Not removing the hand between my legs only snaked up further until the pads of his fingers clashed with my clit. I clung to Cody like I had no choice.

“Do you need me to prove I only want you by fucking you right here while everyone watches?”

The sharp tone of his voice skated to the bottom of my spine as I tried not to collapse against him.

That authoritative voice that seemed to echo slapped me sober while I hid my face in Cody. “Cody, wasn’t getting caught once today enough? I’m gonna send you a fine. Anywhere but my backstage.”

He scolded us enough to have Cody’s hand fall from between my legs but not pull away.

“You’re ticketing me?” He was looking at me but talking to his boss standing right behind him.

The large man, sporting a slightly weathered look, came closer before responding, hand on his shoulder. “Your ex is standing right over there. You have a bus, use it. Welcome home.”

Cody kissed me again only without his tongue this time he left me a wet mess clinging to the wall for support. “I have a match in twenty. Hang out, get some food, I’ll be quick.”

Shaking my head I nodded, still unable to move as I felt myself vibrate still. I was prepared to just head back to the bus when Brandi stopped me, something I would have anticipated if I wasn’t drunk off him still.

“That’s his MO you know. The girlfriend experience then he dumps you out of nowhere.” Her shrill voice only made it sting worse.

“Let me guess… you saw him all over me and the jealous monster sitting on your shoulder told you to warn me. Out of good intentions, right?” I crossed my arms expecting something more than petty remarks from an adult.

Rolling her eyes, “don’t say I didn’t warn you. Maybe you should ask him yourself before you’re expected to get an abortion too.”

“Oh sweetheart, I already knew you were the ex without him saying one word. You should work on your poker face.”

“Don’t pretend his house isn’t littered with my things. Did he tell you we were going to get married?”

I crossed my arms, loathing her for ruining my high. “I’ll bite - then what?”

Closing the gap between us, she stood right in front of me. “Then his dad died and he left WWE. Cody and I have unfinished business. I suggest you don’t get in the way of that.”

Cody’s life choices were making more sense, all the details he left out.

“Cling to that unfinished business because it’s the only thing you’re gonna cling to.”

I left her standing there out argued by a seventeen year old when I found myself back on the bus.

Yanking the tight dress like it personally offended me I tried to cool down but every part of me wanted to break things. Pulling over my head an American Nightmare shirt I skipped bottoms in exchange for a lace pair of red panties.

Cuddling up against his pillow I took a deep breath of him.

I must have fallen asleep when Cody’s body bullied mine into turning over on my back. Kisses covering my face and chest messily when I heard him whisper, “I have to be inside you baby. I’m addicted.”

Still shaking off the fact that I was just sleeping I felt his hands push up my shirt up enough to enjoy my lace panties.

Lazy, sleepy, moans escaped my mouth.

“My shirt and now these? Are you trying to kill me?”

Shaking my head yes I let my legs fall apart just for him to fill the space, not before tugging my panties down my legs. Out of his torn shirt and wrestling pants he smelled like fresh soap. His hair was still wet when I let my fingers smooth through his locks.

Reaching for the night stand, he fished around the random objects crashing against the sides of the drawer. “Fuck,” he exhaled sitting back between my legs. “I’m out of condoms baby.”

“I don’t care, Cody.”

Leaning up, meeting him more than half way, my mouth nipped at his. Feeling empowered by how heavily he was breathing I flipped over, pushing my ass into his crotch and letting my hands press against his bed.

Every hard inch wedged against my ass, his hands smooth up my shirt to cup my tits.

“You’re gonna let me fill up this tight pussy? Already so wet for me.” He groaned the words out and his hand guided himself to my entrance. Pushing my ass back on him, I exhaled at the familiar stretching as he filled the void between my legs.

I couldn’t help but moan while my hands fisted the sheets. Bucking his hips I quickly got use to his size all over again like he hadn’t been stretching me out to accommodate every thick inch for months now.

Muffling my moans I buried my face in the pillows as our bodies collided over and over.

“What a good girl… fuck… so fucking tight.”

Grinding my ass back into him, out of breath I moaned through my words. “It’s too big, Cody. I’m gonna come.”

Not releasing my nipples, I continued to squirm against him like it would provide any relief. “I know baby, taking this big cock so well. Tell me you’re mine.”

“What?” I gasped without realizing it.

“Tell me who you belong to. Tell me you’re mine.”

Throwing my ass back, I nearly came undone at how it felt to ride Cody this way. I could feel my legs shaking every time I pulled forward only to impale myself again.

He was giving me every ounce of control over him and it felt overwhelming. He was strong in ways I admired and yet I was bringing him to his knees with my pussy.

“Cody,” I whimpered completely compliant to his demands. I was his whether I liked it or not.

“Just like that.” The grit in his voice told more than looking over my shoulder couldn’t. I could tell his jaw was clenched in anticipation, his eyes closed, and the way the veins decorated his muscles before he came.

My cheek pressed against the cold covers, I moaned through the orgasm cascading over me.

Every muscle in my body stilled as the orgasm rocked through me and I felt out of control.

Cody’s hands grasped around my hips and smoothed up my back. “God damn. I could fuck you for forever.”

Collapsing next to me in the queen sized bed in the back of the bus splattered with his name I crawled over his chest, letting my arm rest over him. “Forever is a long time. You’ll be an old way before me.”

Choking on his laughter he tried to tickle me but I but could feel the exhaustion pouring out of him.

“I’m serious.”

“I don’t have expectations, Cody. You don’t have to woo me.” Casually snatching the water bottle from the night stand I took a swig while he sat up against the headboard.

“What did she say to you?” The playfulness drained from his expression.

“That didn’t sway me, Cody.”

He repeated himself only this time it was much more intense while I watched his fists ball up. “That you were supposed to be getting married… slick comments about abortions and you dumping girls after you get your girlfriend experience fix.”

“Wow. What a fucking, bitter, bitch. She tried to trap me in getting her pregnant then my father died. I went off the deep end and we broke up. End of story.” I could tell he didn’t want to truly talk about it even though he asked.

Leaning against the headboard I could feel our shoulders brush, “how long did you date her?”

His head fell to the side and I watched his eyes scan up to mine. “Long enough. A year.”

I exhaled in the form of a wow. Cody had ex-girlfriends, of course, but knowing the details made it hurt worse.

“Come on, you’ve had boyfriends.” His face got close to mine and I felt his hand smooth over my bare ass. “Maybe not like that… but I can still be jealous too.”

Straddling his lap slowly I placed my hands on his shoulders. “I’ve had boyfriends, of course, but no pregnancy scares or rings on my finger.”

His eyes were foggy again and his strong hands held my hands behind my back enough for me to welp out-loud. “I can tell by the way ride my tongue that someone’s ate that pussy before. I can tell by the way you wrap that hand around me it’s not the first time you’ve touched someone. You don’t have to engaged or almost pregnant for me to be jealous that some boy has touched you. It’s gonna happen, I just wanna be the last man to fuck you.”

Our mouths collided when he finally loosened his grip on my wrists. Practically falling into him I felt my hips sway on top of him without meaning to.

Whimpering through our kisses I asked, “When does it stop feeling like this? I can’t help it.”

I could feel my legs shake and my body go up in flames. I was turned on so easily still and nothing extinguished that need for him.

“You wanna come again baby? This greedy pussy needs more?” His lips pressed soft kisses down my neck.

I shook my head yes knowing my pussy was already soaked from his dirty words and the way his hands were up my shirt. I was a mess for Cody, in every way you could be.

He was going to break my heart and I was gonna ignore every warning sign.

REQUESTED TAGS:

@alyyaanna

[kinghijinx22]

Why Silent Hill 3 is my big favorite- a terrifying horror game about woman's experiences and the fears that come from existing as a woman in a patriarchal society

Silent Hill 3 is probably my favorite Silent Hill game and one of my favorite games of all time, and it has a story and themes that I've always really vibed with. It tells a remarkably progressive story for it's time that handles some intense themes that are still relevant even today, about experiences that a lot of woman go through and the fears that come from existing as a woman in a patriarchal society, what it's like having your own agency and bodily autonomy taken away from you, forced pregnancy and sexual assault, how harmful patriarchal societies are and this game really getting into the religious flavor of patriarchy in particular.

It's an incredibly scary game that uses a feminine sort of horror to great effect, with the design of the other world being as bloody as it is and the monster designs being representative of this. I mean there is a type of creature that are literally supposed to look like fetuses that start getting bigger throughout the game as the birth of God draws near and the giant worm boss for lack of a better way of putting, literally being a giant penis. I think the main complaint that I hear from people about this game is how slow the story is in the first half of the game, but I think the whole getting home late at night as a young woman contributes a lot to what this game is saying. And I absolutely love how this game ends with Heather literally aborting God and fighting it as the final boss, symbolizing her fully taking control of her life and rejecting all of the harmful expectations that were forced onto her. Main antagonist Claudia is such a tragic character though, someone who was so brainwashed by town's religion into think that someone HAS to give birth to God so hard that she did it herself and she suffered for it.

Also while not as intentional considering when it was written and they probably couldn't even write about this stuff if they wanted to, something that I think is worth noting is that I've heard from a lot of trans people who relate to this game as well and I can really see it. Considering it's about people who Heather knows from a past life, coming back to remind her of that past life and forcing it onto her, and Claudia referring to Heather as Alessa could be interpreted as deadnaming Heather. But yeah I've always really loved and connected with this game for how well it handles it's themes about woman's experiences and I think it's really cool how many trans people have been able to relate to it with those specific experiences as well.

Another of my favorite things about Silent Hill 3 is the main character Heather, because she really is one of the coolest characters that I've always really related to. Her struggles are incredibly relatable, but she's also inspiring in how she overcomes them and is always so confident. In fact I appreciate how her and her father subvert societal gender roles in opposite directions, with Heather being as confident and extroverted as she is, probably more then any other Silent Hill protagonist and willing to stand up to all of the men in the story like Douglas in the beginning, Vincent and Leonard, along with all of the monsters she has to fight. And Harry being a single parent who is as gentle and caring as he is, with his one track mind of looking as his daughter, he's kind of both a father and a mother in that way, and also being as physically weak as he is and the opposite of a action hero. She also easily has the most personality of any Silent Hill protagonist, like this girl is overflowing with charisma and is even a little jokey. In fact another detail that I like is how much personality comes through in her examine dialogue, where you actually get to hear her thoughts on everything instead of just basic observation "this is a thing" that the other games in the series do. Heather has opinions on everything, but how she's feeling throughout the game is also conveyed. The dialogue of her observations in the first half of the game has a much more playful and hopeful tone to it, but after Harry dies she becomes much more pessimistic, can only see the negatives in everything and just doesn't seem to care anymore.

Heather is an incredibly well written and nuanced character, and I'll be honest that this is the game I least want to see be remade because I know that they would find a way to fuck up the writing of her character and handling of the themes of this game. Even after the Silent Hill 2 remake being as good as it is, one of Blooperteams biggest flaws is being incapable of handling anything to do with woman's experiences or perspective. SH2 used to be my fav, but I came to realize that it was mostly just because it was the popular one and that I vibe a lot more with SH3 and 4. Especially because SH2 tells a story about misogyny but makes it all about the perpetrator rather then the victim, unlike Silent Hill 3 which does actually tell the story of someone on the receiving end of that type of violence and objectification. SH3 and 4 are my personal favorites, 3 because Heather is best protagonist and I really appreciate it's themes which are handled perfectly, and SH4 because it has a really cool narrative and horror concepts. I know opinions on SH4 are really split, and while I think there are some gameplay things that are jank, I love it's story and premise so much.

[strnilolover]

what is prince!Matt and maid!reader's first kiss like?

Honestly, it’s soft and sweet. Matt would do it in a moment of thanking her, catching her off guard, but she didn’t mind at all. though she’d get really shy and kind of run off. (i feel like their first kiss wouldn’t be for a few months, not at least until they’re well aquatinted with one another and start to recognize and process their own feelings)

-

Matt had been out all day running errands and attending to royal duties that needed attention. Of course darling accompanied him for most of the day, so she was equally as tired. But, she was able to slip away with the last meeting he needed to attend.

She had made her way to his bedroom, getting his night clothes ready and his bed prepped for him to sleep in. Even though matt made it clear that she didn’t need to do everything expected of a personal maid, she still liked to to the little things to make everything easier for him.

As she finished drawing him a bath, she could hear his footsteps walking through his room. “Darling?” he called out, and she emerged from the bathroom — a small smile on her face. When matt saw her, his lips lazily tugged up. He knew how hard she worked, obviously seeing it first hand — that’s what drew him so close to her.

“Yes matt?” she replied, her voice straining a little. Even though matt has said countless of times that she could call him by his name — it still felt weird. He walked over to her, taking one of her hands in his. “Did you do all of this for me? you know you don’t have to do everything for me, even if it’s in your job.” he said, and she flushed, nodding in both understanding and acknowledging.

“You were so busy today, you need something to relax and i was just making it easier.” she admitted, her eyes training on their connected hand. Sure they’ve have some encounters where his hands lingered too long or where her eyes watched him — but it never felt like this.

“I appreciate it darling.” and before she could respond, he leaned in — pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. She was taken aback, not knowing what to do before her mind caught up and reciprocated the kiss. It was sweet and filled with something she couldn’t really place.

After a moment he pulled away, her eyes fluttering open to already find his blue eyes staring at her. Her lips parted, face even warmer now as she realized what they just did. “I hope i didn’t overstep..” matt whispered, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand.

Darling just shook her head, “N-no not at all..i just uhm — i should go now yeah?..” she quickly said, slipping her hand free as her heart pounded in her ears, bidding good night and slipping out his bedroom door.

Matt stood there, a soft chuckle escaping his lips before he smiled to himself — walking to his bathroom and discarding his clothes before slipping into the warm bath she drew for him.

© strnilolover

[shipstorms]

more modern AU

Halfway through the episode, there’s a faint beep of a keycard and the door clicks open. Gale turns down the volume and stands up just as someone appears past the corner with a single duffel slung over his shoulder.

"Gale! Holy shit!" Bucky greets loudly, dropping the duffel onto the bed and pulling Gale into a hearty hug. All the action coalesces into a big blur, but he's solid and warm, the first person Gale's touched so closely in months.

"Hey there," he manages, face held tight against the ribbed collar of Bucky's t-shirt. 

Bucky smells like everything comforting: clean laundry, low-profile deodorant, a freshly sparked flint. And it has to be Bucky -- who else would have a keycard to the room? -- but Gale is just about knocked sideways by the sheer physical presence of him. Back then in Afghanistan, on truckloads of ephedra pills, Bucky had almost been thinner than even Gale. The person who stands before him now is hulking, both taller and broader than that rangy kid. Even his voice has thickened up rough with whatever he's been sucking through his lungs for the past few years. Which, judging by the Marlboros peeking out of his shirt pocket and Parliaments tossed onto the dresser, has been varied and plentiful. 

It takes a second to overwrite his memory of Bucky with this current iteration, and another second to react. He pats at Bucky's back, then drops his arms when Bucky grabs him by the shoulders and pushes them apart so they can look at each other. 

"Been awhile, huh? How've you been?" Bucky shakes him a bit. His expression is familiar, open and happy, the kind of smile that doesn't have to be earned, and all his other features fall into place around it. 

"John," Gale says. Even to his own ears, he sounds genuinely delighted. "You grew up."

Bucky laughs. "Pretty sure I was grown back then, but I know what you mean. You too, Buck. You look good."

Gale is about to say, not as much as you, or nah, not me, but maybe that would seem like he's too fascinated with this transformation. So he doesn't. 

"Do I still look psyops good?" he asks instead. 

He can spot the moment Bucky processes this reference and connects it to the correct memory. "Even more so," he confirms, eyes crinkling up with another wide grin. "They need to start putting this mug on recruitment brochures, I've been saying that for years."

He gives Gale a final squeeze before turning too soon to unpack his bag. A wrinkled suit emerges, followed by a dopp kit. "Can you believe Croz is getting married?" he asks with his back toward Gale. 

"Half the guys at Bagram got hitched before they even deployed," Gale points out, distracted, studying how Bucky's hair is still shorn down close, tapering to a dark point on his nape. The paleness of his upper arms peeks past his sleeves when he stretches out to toss a charging cord onto the pillow. 

"Love," he crows. "What a beautiful journey."

He heads over to the bathroom, hanging his suit on the door hook and emptying his kit by the sounds of it. "We got like an hour, right? Do you mind if I shower? Need to get some steam going to unwrinkle this thing." 

"Go ahead," Gale calls back. 

"We'll catch up after!" Bucky hollers.

The door shuts and the water turns on. Gale punches the TV volume back up, though he's already forgotten what myth they were busting in the first place. Something on screen gets smashed with a hydraulic press before exploding and he watches vacantly. Finds himself thinking again about how much Bucky has changed; marveling at it, almost, that this man had somehow burst forth from that cocky little grunt, sharp-chinned and dwarfed under his helmet, turning to face him in the dark the first night they'd met. The image is still clear in Gale's mind, revealing itself as a core memory that's been lodged in there this entire time without his knowledge or permission.

Gale rubs at his eye, tries to override it with the static of pressure, but it doesn't do any good. The real thing is right on the other side of that wall.

[spidrgirl]

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RANDOM MILES MORALES HEADCANONS:

Masterlist: here ➼

Pairing: Miles Morales x fem friend he has a crush on! ᥫ᭡

Synopsis: headcanons of Miles and a girl he's friends with, but also has a teeny tiny crush on.

Genre: fluff/friends to lovers (lol, can you tell that this is my fav trope 😜?)

Word count: idk

Authors note: I made these headcanons with a fem! Reader in mind, but I think most of these are gender neutral.

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➳ Miles texts you throughout the day, even about the smallest details, needing to feel connected even when you're apart. When you don’t respond immediately, he starts second-guessing himself, checking his messages over to see if he said something wrong, worrying you might be upset with him.

➳ Every time you two part, he lingers, hands fidgeting or glancing back at you with a soft look. Sometimes, he even comes up with the smallest excuses—"I forgot to tell you something" or "Do you need help carrying anything?"—just so he can stay a little longer.

➳ Physical touch is everything to him. Even the lightest brush of your hand is enough to set his heart racing. He quietly aches for you to touch him more, but he's too nervous to ask, scared of seeming too needy or crossing a line.

➳ No matter what he's doing, if you call or text, Miles immediately stops and responds. He could be in the middle of training or just trying to relax, but your messages are his priority. You can't help but remember that one time when he was texting you back while mid-mission, and it just proves how much he needs to feel close to you.

➳ After a late-night patrol, he often lies awake, replaying the last time you were together in his mind. He wishes he could talk to you, even if it’s just in comfortable silence. Sometimes he even imagines what it’d be like if you were there, lying next to him, sharing everything he’s been holding inside.

➳ Sitting in silence next to you on lazy afternoons is one of his favorite things. He’s content just being near you, but the urge to confess his feelings bubbles up more strongly in these quiet moments. He bites his tongue, afraid that telling you might change what you have.

➳ When you’re talking, he holds your gaze, completely captivated. Even in casual conversation, the way you look at him grounds him. It’s like he's the only one you’re seeing in that moment, and he feels an overwhelming warmth from it.

➳ Miles checks in with you constantly. Even if it’s a small “you good?” or “need anything?” he wants to know you're okay and feels a sense of purpose in being there for you.

➳ He loves catching subtle traces of your scent on his clothes after you've been together—it makes him feel closer to you when you're not around, like he's carrying a part of you with him.

➳ If you’re watching a movie or sitting together, he’ll lean in closer than necessary, just to be in your space. There’s a comfort he finds in those moments that he can’t quite put into words.

➳ Miles remembers even the smallest kind words you say to him, and they replay in his mind like a cherished memory. When he's feeling low, he holds onto those words, letting them remind him of his worth in your eyes.

➳ Every accidental touch—your hand brushing his, your shoulder against his—he holds onto them, wishing they’d last just a little longer. Sometimes, he leaves his hand where it is, silently hoping you'll reach out again.

➳ As much as he admires your strength and independence, there's a part of him that yearns for you to need him, even if just a little. It’s not that he wants to change you, but being the one you rely on, even briefly, fills him with a quiet pride.

➳ He's always seeking your validation, not only because he values your opinion, but because your approval brings him a sense of security. He might even agree with things he doesn’t totally believe in, just to feel more connected to you.

➳ Even though he tries to play it cool when you call or text, his heart races. He'll act casual, but deep down, your attention is everything to him.

➳ Sitting close to you feels like it's never enough. He wants more time with you, more connection, but he’s scared of coming on too strong and pushing you away.

➳ He loves those rare, late-night conversations that go on until the early hours. When they end, he’s left with a quiet longing, wishing he could hold onto those moments forever.

➳ Sometimes, without realizing it, Miles can be a little overbearing in his need to help you. He’ll offer to carry your things, walk you home, or do tasks you didn’t ask for, just to feel useful to you.

➳ His biggest fear is that one day you’ll move on, and he’ll just be a memory in your life. It’s a thought that keeps him awake some nights, silently hoping he’ll always have a place in your world.

➳ If he senses you’re upset or distant, he tries even harder to be there for you, even if it’s just in small ways, like sending a meme or giving you a small gift. He wants to remind you that he's still around.

➳ Miles asks you questions about your day, your thoughts, your feelings—he just wants to know you better and to feel closer to you.

➳ Arguments or disagreements with you make him uneasy. He’ll often apologize first, even when he’s unsure of what he did wrong, just to make sure things are okay between you.

➳ If he notices you’re upset, he goes into “protector” mode, wanting to fix the situation and be the one to make things better, even if it’s beyond his control.

➳ If a day goes by without seeing you, he’ll often send you a random meme or a quick message, just to re-establish contact and let you know he’s thinking about you.

➳ He subtly frames conversations in ways that might lead to you complimenting him or showing him affection. He craves your reassurance but tries not to make it too obvious.

➳ When you’re together, he unconsciously leans into your space—his knee brushing yours, his arm near you. He might not ask for more, but his body language shows just how much he wants you close.

➳ If you start talking about someone else, especially another guy, he’ll find a way to steer the conversation back to the two of you, needing your attention on him, if only for a moment.

➳ There are times he feels so vulnerable around you that he wants to confess everything, but he holds back, afraid of losing what you already have. Instead, he stays quiet, holding onto those feelings in silence.