#and why is she answering her phone on the work floor!

[burntheedges]

Awake

Marcus Moreno x f!reader | 6.6k | 18+ | ao3

summary: Marcus is fine. He wakes up, goes to work, goes home, goes to sleep, and then does it all over again, just the same, every day. And he's fine.

And then he meets you.

a/n: this is for @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality's writing through the seasons challenge! you can see my prompt and moodboard here (which I borrowed from for the header). I had the prompt ("to live with the delusion of being found") banging around in my head for days and it just screams Marcus to me. thank you @katareyoudrilling for being a wonderful beta, as always.

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, flirting, meet cute, Missy is a fun teenager, texting, coffee shop, touching, I named Miracle Guy Rob and Missy's mom Melissa, self deprecation (Marcus), shifting POV, kissing, grinding, reader has no description other than being a woman and having a job, no age mentioned but just FYI I was imagining her in her 30s or 40s, first date, coffee, pet names (beautiful, sweetheart), some Spanish (mija, calmate)

...

On Monday, Marcus woke up with his alarm. 

Missy had picked it out – it wasn’t one of the sounds that came with his phone. She’d used some app to make it play part of “Takin’ Care of Business,” but only on weekdays. He didn’t know how to change it. He probably could have looked it up but he wouldn’t, anyway – she’d said it made her think of him going to work every day. So now it made him think of her, and at least he had that thought, if nothing else, to warm him as he got out of bed.

(His mood never quite matched the song’s, but at least he had a goal to work towards. Right?)

So he woke up when the piano came in, and sighed as he swung his legs off the bed. He sat there for a moment, letting Randy Bachman sing to him about getting to work by nine.

He sighed again.

He turned off the alarm, finally, and stood. He did not look in the mirror on top of his dresser as he walked past it into the bathroom.

Marcus showered and dressed on autopilot, mind almost blank. As always he just picked the next slacks, jacket, and shirt, whatever was at the front of his closet. He’d done this so many times, on so many mornings, it barely required him to be awake.

When the coffee maker beeped, he found himself standing fully dressed in his kitchen without really noticing that he’d walked there. He poured his coffee – just a splash of cream – and sat at the kitchen table to turn on the news. As he let the sound of yet another day wash over him, he texted Missy, smiling when she responded almost instantly.

Marcus 08:27 AM: Good morning, mija

Missy 08:28 AM: dad 08:28 AM: why did I sign up for a 9am dad 08:29 AM: i’m dying

Marcus 8:30 AM: if I’m remembering correctly, you had “big gym plans”

Missy 8:32 AM: never listen to me about gym plans again 8:33 AM: what was I thinkinggggg 😩

Marcus let his amusement at Missy’s texts buoy him to the sink and then out to his car, feeling a bit lighter. 

Like his morning routine at home, he barely noticed the drive to work. It was the same as always, and in 17 minutes he was getting out of his parked car at HQ. He felt his shoulders stiffen as he stepped through the double doors into the lobby.

On his floor, Marcus walked to the kitchen first to drop off his lunch. He nodded at the same people he walked past every morning. Then he sat at his desk, answered his emails, and attended some meetings about upcoming missions for the current active teams. On his way to the break room for lunch he nodded at the same people again. After lunch he attended a few more meetings, dodged Rob in the hallway when he asked about Marcus’ weekend, and answered more emails.

At 5pm he stood up from his desk and walked to his car, nodding to the same people again on his way out.

Marcus drove home on autopilot, and 17 minutes later he found himself walking into his kitchen from the garage. He sighed as he opened the fridge, and decided dinner would be leftovers. Again.

Since it was Monday, and Missy wouldn’t be calling, he sat on the couch and turned the TV to the Food Network. He let the soothing sounds of low stakes cooking problems take over and crowd himself out of his own head.

10pm found Marcus in bed, setting his alarm. He got comfortable, stretched out his back, which always seemed to be aching these days, and pointedly did not think about the fact that he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done at work that day.

As he fell asleep, he thought idly that he was glad his time as an active member of the Heroics had taught him how to fall asleep anywhere, if nothing else.

…

On Tuesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.

His morning unfolded almost identically to Monday’s, aside from the fact that Missy wasn’t awake yet to respond to his good morning text – her Tuesday classes started at 11:30 and she usually took full advantage of the chance to sleep in.

As he sat and sipped his coffee, something on the news briefly caught his interest, until he realized it was something that had already crossed his desk the week before. 

He sighed.

Marcus drove to work – 17 minutes – and went through the motions of another day at the office. 

He ate lunch with Rob in his office, which had bigger windows than Marcus’s, and got his regular updates on how Rob’s family was doing (Peter had gone off to college, too, and they commiserated about their kids abandoning them). 

Rob, as always, asked Marcus how he was doing with a knowing look that Marcus, as always, pointedly ignored.

“I’m fine,” he said, as always, stabbing a piece of chicken in his tupperware dish with a bit too much force. He was always fine. What else would he be?

Rob eyed him. “Are you?”

Marcus chewed and did not sigh. “Yes, I am,” he promised.

Rob squinted, and Marcus squinted back. That made his friend laugh, at least, and they changed the subject.

Marcus left the office a bit quicker that night and 17 minutes later he walked in the house just as his phone rang.

“Hi, mija,” he said, smiling as he picked up his daughter’s regular Tuesday phone call. She had a long walk home from her last class and usually called him to pass the time.

He let her voice wash over him, soothing the tension that had crept into his shoulders when Rob had squinted at him over lunch. Missy’s updates on her classes and her friends carried him through reheating his leftovers and collapsing on the couch. By the time she had to go he was more relaxed than he’d been in days. (Since her last call, probably, he did not let himself think, and made sure to tell her he loved her before she hung up.)

With a bit more help from the Food Network, Marcus successfully distracted himself until it was time for bed.

…

On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, Marcus woke up with his alarm. 

He got dressed, went to work, nodded at his coworkers, answered emails, ate lunch, nodded a bit more, and went home.

And through all of it, he was fine. 

He was fine. 

…

Marcus spent Saturday at home doing chores, and Sunday at the farmer’s market and the grocery store. Missy called once, and Rob texted him to invite him to Corina’s birthday dinner in two weeks. Marcus added it to his calendar and took care not to notice how every other weekend was empty.

…

On Monday, Marcus woke up with his alarm.

He moved automatically from his bed to his bathroom and then to his closet, showering and dressing as usual. 

He walked downstairs, thinking idly about the meetings he had scheduled in the morning, and the training he needed to plan for the newest crop of Heroics.

Lost in thought, Marcus stood holding an empty mug in front of his coffee maker for almost 5 minutes before he realized it hadn’t beeped. 

He blinked and looked down, confused. 

There was no coffee in the pot. He realized he hadn’t smelled the coffee as he usually did while he was getting ready. He looked it over and saw that the setting was right, but there was no coffee.

He frowned. 

Poking at the coffee maker revealed that the screen wouldn’t come on, even though it was plugged in. A few more moments of tinkering and he knew – it was broken.

Marcus sighed and checked the time – 8:10 AM. He texted Missy.

Marcus 08:10 AM: Mija, I am sorry to report that after a long and fruitful life, our beloved Mr. Coffee has percolated his last brew. May he rest in peace 🪦

Missy 08:12 AM: nooo!! not Mr. Coffee 💔 08:13 AM: your best friend, taken from us too soon 08:13 AM: how will you go on without him

He smiled. He knew she’d be able to cheer him up.

Marcus 08:15 AM: with difficulty, but I will persevere

Missy 08:17 AM: wait! 08:17 AM: dad you should go to the Bean Box!! I know you never actually did when I told you to 08:18 AM: it’s on your way to work dad you have to go 08:18 AM: it’s the best the coffee is so good 08:19 AM: daaaaaad

Marcus 08:20 AM: ok ok, calmate 08:20 AM: I’m going

Missy 08:22 AM: good! and get a scone to eat in my honor 08:23 AM: I miss those scones

15 minutes later Marcus pulled up in front of the small facade of the Bean Box and couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly the type of place Missy would like – cozy and colorful, with lots of tables stuffed inside and flower boxes overflowing along the bottom of each of the large windows in the front.

When he stepped inside, the smell of freshly roasted coffee filled his nose and he almost stopped in the doorway. It smelled good. 

He joined the long line for coffee and scrolled idly on his phone, checking the news, a bit oblivious to his surroundings. 

So he was surprised when his phone almost flew out of his hand a few moments later. Someone knocked into him from behind and he stumbled forward. He made some sort of noise as he juggled his phone between his hands, just barely catching it before it could fall.

“Good catch,” an admiring voice said from behind him. He turned as they continued, “Wait, I mean, I’m so sorry about that! Shit.”

Marcus turned around fully and almost froze. A woman was standing there with her hands out, as if she had just caught her balance, grimacing at him. A very beautiful woman, he couldn’t help but notice. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but she was just as beautiful as she’d been a moment before. His eyes darted across her features but he didn’t let himself sweep his gaze over the rest of her. He didn’t want to be a creep.

Suddenly it felt much warmer in the coffee shop, and he was very aware of how close they were standing to each other.

“Shit,” she repeated. “Sorry, again. I tripped,” she pointed at the leg of a chair that was almost in the aisle, “and ended up sort of falling on you. But I’m glad you caught your phone! Nice catch, really.” She looked down and he did, too. She’d dropped her bag and some of her belongings had spilled out. She sighed. “Shit.”

Marcus was crouching before he’d even thought about bending down. “It’s alright,” he said, smiling a bit. “No harm done. Sorry about your stuff.” he gathered some papers and held them out to her. She had followed him down, kneeling as she gathered her things back into her bag.

She took them and said, “wait, you don’t have to do that! I already almost knocked you over, you don't have to help me.”

He shook his head. “Like I said, it’s fine.” He realized she had all of her things but they were both still crouching. He stood and offered her his hand to help her up. 

She slid her hand into his easily and his breath caught as she said, “well, thank you, and sorry, again.” Her hand was warm and he ignored the way his fingers tingled at her touch. 

She was smiling, then, and Marcus couldn’t help but notice that her smile was very pretty. So pretty he had to drag his eyes away from it, trying not to stare.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. There was warmth in his chest and a floaty feeling in his stomach and the tips of his fingers were still tingling where they’d touched hers. It felt almost foreign, it had been so long. He felt lightheaded. 

“Please don’t worry about it.” He looked around and realized the line had moved a little, so he took a step forward to move with it. She did the same. “I’m Marcus, by the way.”

She gave her name and he smiled. It suited her.

“Can I buy you an apology coffee?” she asked, looking hopeful. “I still feel bad.”

He shook his head, laughing. “No, it’s really ok. I mean it.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, looking suddenly thoughtful and amused. “I’ve never had anyone turn down a free cup of coffee from here before. You must be new.”

Marcus was smiling. He realized he might have been smiling at her the whole time, and felt a bit of wonder at that. “It’s that obvious? I am. New, I mean. My daughter has been telling me to come here for months but this is my first time.”

Her eyebrows raised and he hoped he was imagining the way her expression closed off a bit. But in the next moment he wondered at himself for even thinking of it. Don’t be a fool, he warned himself, even as he felt the urge to explain. She’s just nice, she’s not interested. 

“She has good taste,” she said lightly. “What took you so long, then?”

Marcus sighed and gave in to the urge. “It’s just me at home, with her away at college, and I’ve just been torturing my ancient coffee maker by keeping it alive. But it took its last dying breaths this morning and I was forced to venture out for coffee, instead.”

She nodded solemnly. “Rest in peace, ancient coffee maker.” The jokingly serious look on her face reminded him of the way Missy would tease him and he couldn’t help but smile. Again.

Suddenly Marcus realized they’d made it to the front of the line. He wasn’t ready to order, or to stop talking to this beautiful woman who had almost knocked him over. 

“I guess I’m up,” he said, as the person in front of him started to pay. 

He tried not to watch as she bit her lip, hesitating for just a moment. “Well, Marcus,” she said, voice light again. “I’m here most mornings, so you’ll have to come back and let me know if you liked it.”

Marcus felt his cheeks warm and he smiled. “Ok then. I’ll try.”

For the rest of the day, he found he couldn’t quite wipe that smile off of his face, not even when Rob teased him about it.

…

On Tuesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm, already smiling.

He glanced at himself in the mirror as he got dressed, and was stunned to see his face looking so relaxed for once.

Is that all it takes? He wondered, amused at his own expense. A bit of flirting and a pretty smile? But it wasn’t just about her pretty smile, he knew that. He’d felt something the day before, something he hadn’t felt in years.

Something he wanted to feel again.

He’d told Missy he liked her coffee shop the night before and promised he’d be back (and that he’d get a scone, this time). So he hurried downstairs and out to his car as soon as he was dressed, ready to find out if he would run into her again.

When he pulled up outside The Bean Box, he took a deep, slow breath. Sure, he was a teensy bit invested. Something about her had kindled a tiny fire in his chest. But he didn’t want to get his hopes too high. He shouldn’t. Right?

But as he stepped inside, he realized he needn’t have worried. She was standing by the door, looking just as stunning as the day before. And she was watching the people coming in.

When she saw him, she grinned. “I knew you’d be back! It’s good, right?”

Marcus nodded as felt a smile stretch across his face. “It is. And I promised my daughter I’d get a scone this time.”

Her eyes lit up. He couldn’t look away. “Oh, you definitely need to get a scone. They’re amazing.”

She stepped into line next to him and he noticed they both kept their bodies turned towards each other as they talked. 

“You said she’s in college, right?” She tilted her head at him. Marcus tried not to trace the line of her neck with his eyes. “Is she enjoying it?”

He nodded. “She’s a freshman, but she settled in quick. She’s so independent, I knew she would.” He looked down, smiling as he thought about his daughter, and told her about Missy’s major. “She blows me away, honestly.”

When he looked back up he found her smiling softly at him. “Sounds like she’s got a great dad.”

Marcus smiled and ducked his head again. “I miss her, but it helps that she’s doing so well. And we talk a lot. More than I expected, really. Figured she’d be too busy.”

He felt something warm on his arm and realized she had reached out and lightly rested her hand on his forearm. He blinked and felt a flush rise in his cheeks and start to travel down his neck. He suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing a sweater over his dress shirt, wished he could feel her hand on his skin again.

“I’d say that means you’re definitely a great dad.” She was still smiling. “Take it from me, and my memories of college. I definitely didn’t talk to my parents that much.” She laughed and Marcus felt his breath catch at the way it lit up her features. Her hand was still on his arm and he fought the urge to cover it with his own, to keep it there.

He shook himself and nodded. “It’s been just us for so long. We are pretty close.”

She squeezed his arm lightly and he felt a shiver run up his spine. When her hand fell away, he missed it immediately. “Has it been tough? Adjusting without her.”

Marcus sighed and nodded. “My house is so empty now.” He laughed, ruefully. “I swear, it echoes in there. Never expected I would miss all the noise.”

She nodded. “I’ve got nieces and nephews, and they’re so loud, but I always miss it when they’re gone. It’s not the same, but I get that.”

As the line moved forward, she told him more about her sister’s kids and their antics. Marcus found himself smiling and laughing more than he had outside of a call with Missy in… months. Longer? He didn’t want to think about it, not when he was caught up in feeling like this instead. 

By the time they reached the front of the line, he was only wishing they had more time.

She hesitated when it was almost her turn to step up to the counter. “Did you get your coffee maker fixed?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think it’s fixable, and honestly it deserves to rest. It lived a long life.”

She laughed and then bit her lip. It drew his eyes like a magnet. 

“So, will I see you again tomorrow?” She looked hopeful and he wanted so badly to read into it.

“I think so,” he agreed, smiling a bit shyly. 

She grinned at him. “Good.”

He carried the memory of that grin with him through the rest of the day, until Rob managed to weasel the whole story out of him over lunch. He told his friend about the way they’d met and how she’d been standing inside the door that morning.

But somehow telling it to someone else had Marcus second guessing the whole thing. 

“I’m probably just imagining it.” He was standing with Rob in the hall by his office, coming back from lunch, wishing it had never come up. 

“Well, I think you should go back and you should talk to her again.” Rob furrowed his brow at Marcus and poked him in the arm. 

Marcus frowned and brushed his hand away. “Rob, she’s probably not interested.” 

His friend frowned back, exaggerating the expression until it was comical. “Sounded like she was. Why wouldn’t she be?”

Marcus shook his head and grimaced. “Why would she be? I’m a sad, boring, almost 50-year old man who does nothing but go to work and wait for his daughter to call him. I’m not delusional, ok, I know no one wants to deal with that. Especially not someone like her.”

Rob sighed. He reached out and grabbed Marcus’ shoulders and squeezed. “Marcus. Listen to me. You are a smart, funny, and caring man who loves his daughter and his friends. You deserve more, ok? Tell me you know that.”

Marcus shook his head. “Know what?”

“That it’s not a delusion to think you deserve to be loved.”

“Loved?” Marcus shook his head and tried not to scoff. “We’re just talking about someone I met at a coffee shop.” He ignored that his heart had started to beat just a bit faster when he thought about her, just like it had in The Bean Box when she’d touched his arm. And when she’d smiled at him, looking so hopeful that she’d see him again.

Rob raised his eyebrows. “Someone you can’t stop thinking about, and who flirted with you and got you out of your shell. Right?”

Marcus sighed.

“Marcus,” Rob said, voice careful, and Marcus knew what was coming next. “Is this about Melissa? I–”

He shook his head, interrupting. “No, I mean, not really. You know I’ve gone on dates, well, a while ago. It’s just…” He closed his eyes. “It’s been so long, and since Missy left for college, I’ve just been…” he trailed off, looking for the right word. “Asleep, I think. It’s so quiet. Every day is the same.”

Marcus opened his eyes to find his best friend frowning at him.

“I get it. But it sounds like this shook you out of that routine, right?” Marcus sighed. “Marcus, look, just– promise me you won’t just dismiss it, ok? Give it a chance.”

He wanted to scrub his hands over his eyes but Rob was still holding his shoulders. “How do I do that?”

Rob shrugged. “You’ve already run into her twice. Just keep going back. See what happens.”

Marcus closed his eyes and finally broke out of his friend’s hold. He leaned against the wall behind him. “Ok. Ok, I can do that.”

Rob let out a long breath, clearly relieved. “Good. And just let yourself enjoy it, ok? I know you know how to flirt. Even if you’re rusty.”

Marcus rolled his eyes and shoved Rob back a bit. “Yeah, yeah. I thought you wanted me to go back, huh? Stop making me nervous.”

Rob waved his hand, laughing. “You’re already nervous. But I’ve seen you flirt, man, even if it’s been a minute. I believe in you.”

At least someone did.

…

On Wednesday, Marcus woke up with his alarm, and immediately felt nervous.

He paused in front of his closet, actually looking at his clothes for the first time in a long time. Should I wear this shirt? Or a sweater? He hesitated, cursed himself for wasting time, and then grabbed the next shirt and slacks, as always. 

He walked straight past his kitchen on his way to his car, only glancing at the clock. 08:14 AM.

Missy 08:17 AM: are you going to the Bean Box again 08:18 AM: have I created a monster

Marcus 08:27 AM: just pulled up 08:27 AM: I’ll eat a scone for you

Missy 08:28 AM: mail me one 🙏

Marcus 08:29 AM: counter offer: I’ll buy you one when you’re home next

Missy 08:29 AM: deal 

Marcus was smiling at his phone as he opened the door into the coffee shop, belatedly looking up at his surroundings after he stepped inside. He didn’t see her and started to frown.

“Let me guess – your daughter?” 

He turned to find her behind him, leaning against the high table by the door. She gestured at his phone with a smile. He nodded. “How’d you know?”

She stepped closer and looked down at his phone. “You were smiling at it as you walked in.”

He couldn’t help but smile again. “She asked me to mail her a scone.”

She laughed and Marcus watched the way it changed her face. Beautiful. 

“Would it survive?” She grinned and fell into step next to him in the line for coffee.

He shook his head. “No, but I promised I’d buy her one next time she’s home.”

“When’s that?”

“Spring break.”

She frowned sympathetically. “So far away! That’s too bad.”

Marcus sighed, agreeing. “It is, but it helps knowing that she’s having such a great time.”

She looked thoughtful and nudged Marcus with her shoulder. He felt himself flush. “You know, you could look up coffee shops near her campus and buy her a gift card or something. Somewhere similar. Probably better than mailing a scone.”

He blinked, surprised. That was a good idea. “I…” he trailed off. “That’s–”

“Sorry,” she interrupted, wincing. “I didn’t mean–”

“No,” he said, not wanting her to apologize. He touched his fingertips lightly to her arm – she was wearing short sleeves, and the touch of his skin against hers deepened his flush. His fingertips started to tingle and he felt his heart start to beat faster in his chest. “I was going to say, that’s a great idea. Thank you.”

She grinned at him and leaned forward, which brought her arm more in contact with his hand. Suddenly he found himself with a light hold on her forearm, gripping it gently. He stroked his thumb across her skin before he even realized what he was doing. 

“I was worried I’d overstepped,” she said without moving away from him.

Marcus shook his head, momentarily speechless at the feel of her skin and the knowledge that she hadn’t pulled away.

“No,” he murmured. “I’m definitely going to do that. She’ll love it.”

For a moment he didn’t move, and neither did she. He noticed the line moving out of the corner of his eye but didn’t do anything about it until the person behind them in line cleared their throat.

Startled, he stepped forward, losing contact with her arm. She was still smiling at him as she turned.

“You know,” he said, wishing he could reach out to touch her hand. “I never asked what brings you here every day.”

She hummed. “Well the coffee, of course,” she winked at him, “but I also work from here most mornings. I like the atmosphere, and all of my meetings are in the afternoon.”

He nodded, thinking that sounded nice.  “So if I were to keep up my new coffee habit, you’d be here in the mornings?”

She turned towards him then and he leaned closer. 

“Yep,” she agreed. “Most days. Maybe you could stick around sometime.” She raised her eyebrows but he sighed. 

“I can’t,” he said, looking down. “Have to be in the office.”

Her face fell and he felt something twist inside his chest. She opened her mouth to reply but he interrupted. He didn’t want her to feel like that, not when he was feeling like this.

“Maybe we could,” his voice came out a bit strangled and he cleared his throat. “Maybe we could have dinner sometime instead?”

Marcus watched as her face transformed from disappointed to hopeful. He smiled. 

“I’d like that, Marcus.”

…

Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date, it had been so long.

(That was a lie – he just didn’t want to remember, it had gone so badly. But it had been years – he was pretty sure Missy had been in middle school at the time.)

He spent way too long staring at his clothes and trying to ignore Rob’s encouraging texts. He settled on dark jeans and a sweater. When his phone pinged again, he finally looked down to check it. 

Rob (5:37 PM): Corina says wear the dark green sweater (5:38 PM): I don’t even know which sweater she’s talking about but I assume you do

Marcus looked down and laughed. He had, in fact, chosen the dark green sweater.

Marcus (5:41 PM): tell her I am and that I had the same idea

Rob (5:43 PM): she says good choice and have a great time (5:44 PM): I mean, me too

Marcus smiled as he walked downstairs. He was glad for the support, but he knew he looked good in this sweater. It was one of the few purchases he’d made in recent years just because he liked the way it looked.

He got in the car and headed towards the restaurant where they’d agreed to meet. It was a short drive but he could feel himself getting more and more nervous the closer he got. 

After he parked, he stopped and took a deep breath. He thought of Melissa, as he’d done quite a bit since he met the beautiful woman in the coffee shop. It had been so long since they’d lost her, and he’d had quite a bit of time to think about dating again. This wasn’t even his first try.

But it always made him a little wistful. He took a moment to think about what she’d say – probably something about how his arms looked in the sweater. The thought made him laugh and shake his head. He got out of the car.

She was waiting by the door, and she was stunning.

…

You tried not to fidget as you stood by the door to the restaurant. It was a place your coworker had recommended, but you’d never been. Your nerves had driven you to arrive ten minutes early and now you had nothing to do but wait, and think of the gorgeous man you were waiting for.

And he really was gorgeous. You’d known that from the moment he’d turned around after you’d almost knocked him over in your favorite coffee shop – a memory that made your cheeks burn, even now, you’d been so embarrassed. He was tall with a jawline that made you want to bite, shoulders that were so broad you needed to get your hands on them, and warm brown eyes that had so much feeling in them, it took your breath away.

And then he’d smiled at you, and helped you with your things. And flirted. And then he’d come back, and kept coming back. For coffee, of course, but also to talk to you.

Every time he walked into The Bean Box, he looked around, looking for you. And when he saw you, his face lit up. You couldn’t help but smile just thinking about it.

How is he single? It was a question you’d been wondering about all week. You figured it was probably because he was a single dad, and his daughter had just gone to college. But at the same time you couldn’t comprehend that no one had locked this gorgeous, thoughtful, funny, caring man down. Their loss, you thought, and smiled again.

At that moment you looked up, and caught sight of Marcus getting out of his car. Your smile stretched into a grin.

“Hello there,” he said, smiling as he walked closer to you. “You look stunning this evening.”

You looked him over and tilted your head. “So do you, in that sweater.”

He blushed and you bit your lip. It was so charming when he did that. 

“Ready for dinner?” he asked, and when you nodded he turned to guide you inside. You felt his hand come up to rest on your lower back. It was big and warm, just as warm as it had been when he’d held your arm. You shivered.

The restaurant had a table waiting for you, and you turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. He smiled and shrugged. “I called two days ago when you said yes to dinner.”

The table they led you to was cozy – tucked in a corner with a window, a romantic candle flickering in the center. When you sat, you realized a couple of plants hid you from the rest of the room.

“Cozy,” you said, smiling. 

Marcus nodded. “My best friend has brought his wife here, says it’s fantastic. And romantic.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, reaching out to nudge his hand where it rested on the table. “Romantic, huh?”

Marcus looked suddenly unsure, which made you slide your hand over his and squeeze. “Is that alright?”

You nodded. “It’s more than alright, Marcus. It’s perfect.”

He smiled again, and the two of you settled into an easy conversation about your weeks, about his daughter, and about your work. It flowed just as comfortably as it had at the coffee shop and you felt the warmth that Marcus had kindled inside of you from the first moment start to burn again. It carried you through dinner.

You watched his face as he talked and couldn’t help but marvel again at how handsome he was. He seemed to notice your focus and smirked a bit. “What?”

“Hmm?” you blinked, eyes snapping back to meet his.

He reached across the table and laced his fingers with yours. “I was just wondering what you were thinking.”

Your face warmed but you wanted to tell him, anyway. “Just got distracted by how handsome you are.”

Marcus blushed again and you grinned. “Really?” he looked doubtful, and you couldn’t have that.

“Oh yes,” you said, leaning towards him. “Not for the first time. You know how hard it was not to stare, in the coffee shop?”

He laughed and picked up your hand. He leaned forward, too, and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. You bit your lip at the sensation of his lips against your skin. “Me?” he asked, smiling against your knuckles. “What about you? You’re so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And then you smiled, and well.” He kissed your knuckles again. “Still can’t look away from you, even if I wanted to.”

For a moment you just stared at each other, smiling. 

“Marcus,” you started, lifting your fingers to press against his jaw. He held on, but let you turn your hand until you could cup his cheek. “Do you want to come home with me?”

He blinked, clearly surprised. “I–” He swallowed, looking nervous. “It’s been a while, since…” he trailed off. “It’s been a while,” he repeated, smiling shyly.

You traced his cheekbone with your thumb. “There’s no rush,” you promised. You leaned a little closer and he leaned in to meet you. “I just want you to kiss me, Marcus,” you murmured, and watched his pleasure at that idea take over his handsome face. “And then we can just see where it takes us. No rush, no pressure.”

His eyes darkened as he smiled, a new sort of smile you hadn’t seen before. It made you press your thighs together under the table. “No rush,” he repeated, “but I’ve been wanting to kiss you, too,” he said, voice low and warm. He moved to stand. “Let’s go.”

…

Marcus stepped up close behind you at your door, and you smiled at the feeling of his warm body almost touching yours. His hand came to rest on your waist and you shivered. 

You finally managed to unlock the door and he followed you in. 

So quickly it made your head spin, Marcus turned and pressed you up against the inside of your door. you gasped. His chest was just as broad and firm as you’d thought, and he held you easily in place, right where he wanted you. You marveled at his sudden confidence – it looked very good on him.

“Hi there, beautiful,” he murmured, looking down at your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you breathed. Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

Marcus’s lips were warm, and soft, and his kiss was slow and gentle. It seeped into you and you felt his warmth light you up from the inside. 

Your hands found his hips and you tugged him forwards until your bodies were touching from shoulder to knee. He moaned lightly, into your mouth, and suddenly his kiss wasn’t so gentle anymore.

It was fierce. Your head was spinning as you opened your mouth to him and felt his tongue stroke along yours.

His thigh came to rest between yours and you shivered.

“Marcus,” you sighed, breaking the kiss. He pressed soft kisses along your cheek and jaw before he let his head drop to your shoulder.

“You feel perfect against me, you know that?” His voice sounded almost hoarse, and you wrapped your arms around his waist. His sweater was soft and it made you smile. His right hand was flat against the door by your head but his left came up to cup your jaw and neck. “Shit, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “I’m not perfect,” you laughed. 

He shook his head against your shoulder. “Feels pretty perfect.” He thrust his hips forward and pressed his thigh against you more firmly. You moaned. 

You felt Marcus huff a small laugh against your shoulder and pulled back to eye him. “What?”

He was smiling. “It’s nothing.” He shook his head as you raised your eyebrow, still confused. “I was just thinking how lucky I am that my coffee machine broke that day. Never would have met you, otherwise.”

You felt your face relax as you smiled back and leaned in for another soft kiss. “Sounded like it was on its last legs, from what you told me.”

He laughed again, and you grinned. “It was. RIP, Mr. Coffee, and thank you for your timely death.”

You hummed. “I like to think I would have found you, anyway. Maybe on another day at the Box.”

Marcus pressed forward and buried his face in your neck again. You felt his soft kisses working their way down to your shoulder and shivered. “Yeah? How?”

You shrugged and he nipped at your shoulder. “Just feels right, you know? I felt it the moment I met you.” You leaned your head to the side and he took advantage, worrying a mark at the spot where it met your shoulder. It made you squirm and his grip on you tightened. “Like I’d found something I’d been looking for, and didn’t even know it.”

He lifted his head again and the look in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat. “I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart. You woke me up when you almost knocked me over.” He grinned, teasing you.

“What do you mean?” You lifted one of your hands and let your fingers trail through his hair.

He leaned into it, smiling. “I’ve been… asleep. Living the same day, over and over again. And then I met you, and it’s like I’m awake for the first time since Missy left. Before that, probably.” He leaned forward and kissed you, gently. “You woke me up,” he repeated. You smiled, surprised and pleased that you’d had such an effect on him, too.

Marcus kissed you again, and for a while after that there wasn’t a lot of talking. You could only manage his name, and please, and don’t stop.

He didn’t.

...

a/n: 🥰

[fae-renjun]

🗯✮₊˚⊹ THE ANATOMY OF A ROMANCE — l.jn [ TEASER ]

# pairing.ᐟ lee jeno x fem!reader — [1.1k], college!au, academic rivals to friends to lovers, teaser for the first instalment of how to fall in love (for dummies)

# synopsis.ᐟ  when yn finally got tickets for comic con this year, the last thing she expected was to accidentally coordinate outfits with lee jeno: the boy she had been tied with for the top of every class they had taken together since first year. or in which jeno begins to realise the girl he could never beat in academics has more in common with him than he thought. warnings.ᐟ just swearing for the teaser

# tia speaks.ᐟ est. final wc: 4.5k & est. publish date: 20/03 (the writing in this teaser might be a bit chopped, this is not the final edit)

i. you can’t turn the radio down (& you can’t think of anyone else)

Jeno’s first mistake had been trusting his friends with his hair. 

Looking up nervously as Mark handed him the mirror, Jeno was already braced for disaster after observing the reactions of Jisung (visibly distressed in the corner while biting back a smile) and Chenle (not holding back at all, literally rolling on the floor laughing). 

“This is not fucking green.” “It’s bluish-green?” said Mark hesitantly in response. “It’s mint, Mark,” said Renjun from his spot on the couch. “It could still work,” said Jisung, more as a question than a statement. “Yeah,” Jaemin answered, barely holding back a laugh, “Beast Boy can be minty.”

From the corner of his eye Jeno saw Haechan slowly pull his phone out of his pocket, which was then swiftly returned to its place with Jeno’s warning of putting him in a chokehold.

“I cannot go to comic-con like this.” “Sure you can,” Chenle responded between laughs. “Listen man,” said Renjun, “even if you wanted to fix it, there’s not enough time to do that. Just put on the outfit.” Jeno begrudgingly dragged his feet across the floor to his room, as the conversation continued muffled outside.

Mark shouted, “Yo but why do I actually look so good as spiderman?!” “My Iron Man is better,” retorted Chenle “Why’d you guys assign me the Hulk anyway?” asked Jaemin, as Jeno walked out of his room. Jisung said “Your muscles,” at the same time as Haechan who instead responded with, “So that you and Jeno can have matching green couple outfits.” Renjun, busy adjusting the bow for his Green Arrow costume, just let out a snort-laugh as Jaemin considered both responses for a second before nodding, “Valid.”

Soon Jeno and Renjun were ushering the 5 others out of the house and into the cars to make sure they wouldn’t be late for The Batman 2’s trailer screening.

Y/N opened up the camera app and held her phone close to her face as she made sure the small red plastic crystal she’d bought from the craft store and stuck onto her forehead with lash glue wasn’t crooked. Aeri stood adjacent, combing through her freshly-dyed pink hair with her fingers. 

As a notification popped up on her screen Y/N let out a groan, “Dr. Kwon just assigned us 30 pages of reading for my 8am on Monday!”

“Those Monday morning lecturers love being diabolical, I’m telling you,” said Aeri with a sigh.

In the process of throwing her head back in frustration, Y/N noticed a mint-coloured blob exiting a car out of the corner of her eye. As she turned to get a better look she said to Aeri, “He might have been going for Beast Boy but the poor guy’s hair did not-” Y/N fell silent on seeing the face behind the mint hair. Then she started laughing.

No, said Jeno to himself, this could not be a laugh he recognised, this could not be-

“Holy fucking shit.” “Please,” said Jeno as he made eye contact with the girl, “spare me.” “Absolutely not. That is not green.” “Blame Mark.”

“No, I will actually be thanking Mark. This is incredibly diabolical work,” responded Y/N as she held her phone back up to take a photo. “Oh my god, delete that,” said Jeno with a look of horror. Y/N shook her head, “Don't worry, I won’t post it. Just need it to laugh at.” she said as Jeno’s friends joined in on laughing at the boy’s embarrassment. “I did not consent to that photo Y/N, but I guess you just like looking at my face that much.” “Yeah, I like laughing at it.” “Whatever you say. Nice to know you’re obsessed with my face. What a shame it’s not reciprocated,” said the boy with an obviously mocking look of sympathy.

Before she could retort, Haechan cut through the banter, “Sorry to point out the obvious but has no one else noticed the costumes? You’re Beast Boy, and she’s Raven. They’re lovers in all the comics and shit, no?” Jeno’s mouth fell agape as Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. Both of you rushed to defend yourselves, “Lovers is a stretch-” “ Ok but she’s been with other people in the comics, even Starfire, I mean really Aeri is-” The duo's voices were drowned out by their friends falling into a fit of giggles once again.

Y/N lightly slapped Aeri’s arm to get her attention, dragging her inside the convention center and away from the boys, as the pink-haired-girl continued holding in her giggles.

After the two girls had browsed some of the merchandise at the convention, they finally got to The Batman 2’s panel. Y/N just happened to be so lucky that the only free seats (other than those at the opposite end of the hall) were right next to a group of 7 boys, one of whom’s hair stood out like a sore thumb. It was now her turn to groan as Aeri dragged her right into those very unfortunate seats. 

With a whole 15 minutes left until the panel started all Y/N could do to occupy herself was talking to Aeri and staring at the ground and tapping her feet in order to ignore the presence of a certain Lee next to her. As the girls’ conversation reached a lull, Jeno on her other side cleared his throat before asking, “So…do you like comics?”

Y/N nodded, “Yeah…a lot.”

“Well then this is great!” exclaimed Jaemin, “Nono here is the resident comic book nerd in our friend group.”

Y/N’s face broke into a teasing smile, “Nono?”

Jeno closed his eyes in frustration then turned to Jaemin and gave him his best ‘threatening’ glare (but all his friend did was smile back).

“Favourite characters?” asked Y/N, once he had turned back around.

“Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Miles Morales, Cassandra Cain, John Constantine,” he gestured at his own outfit, “and Beast Boy. Yours?”

“Jason Todd, Kamala Khan, Gwenpool, Zatanna, Rogue, Kori and Raven.” Y/N responded, pointing to her own outfit as she finished.

There was a beat of silence, “Good list.”

“Yours too.”

The two nodded, each clearly having gained some additional level of respect for the other as the lights in the hall dimmed and the event began.

While pulling her hair out of the back of the brown jacket she had put on for the second day of ComicCon, a realization dawned on Y/N, causing her to practically fly across her room to her phone.

Y/N: just so that we don’t accidentally match again Y/N: because i’m sure neither of us wants that Y/N: what are you dressed as today?

Jeno (Anatomy 101): miles morales

Y/N: ok, cool. Y/N: clear.

Jeno (Anatomy 101): you?

Y/N: rogue

Jeno (Anatomy 101): ok Jeno (Anatomy 101): can you delete the picture now

Y/N: nope!

Seen at 11:57am

taglist (strikethrough = can’t tag): @bambisnc @nicholasluvbot @yewshi @lotties-readings @wachimingox @moryymor @andyyjw @ayukas @mystverse @meemememeem @hibernatinghamster @i-lovegood @keemburley @huffnpufffckk @zhapire @yutal0ver @miamoreeee @413ktz @imlonelydontsendhelp @vivisoni @jenocity23 @yangsliuist @dee-zennie @haoss @kstrucknet @k-films

[lokh]

i dont know if i can finish this movie

[niwaart]

FAMILY WITHOUT LIGHT

[#part1 #part2 #part3]

Dick panicked, he gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

《This number is unreachable, please try again later.》

Dick let out a scream of anger and impatience, he had been trying to call Y/N for over 5 hours, just to get an answer. Why did she leave the house?… All this happened when he was in his Nightwing costume doing a normal nighttime mission after tying up criminals, a newspaper with Bruce’s picture caught his attention, Dick wondered what new drama the journalists were talking about this time, as soon as he grabbed the newspaper he felt like the air was being sucked out of him. It took him over a minute to process what was being said…

##Bruce Wayne and Y/N Wayne divorced after more than 15 years.##

No... that's a lie, just another rumor, it can't be true, maybe Bruce doesn't care about Y/N but Y/N wouldn't leave the house... after all he saw her love for Damian and Tim, and how she cared for them... so this is just a rumor... right?....

Dick took the newspaper with him and quickly ran to his apartment... He needed to make sure.. He had to get to his apartment to call Y/N.. She would tell him the truth, reassure him, tell him that everything was okay.... As soon as he got to his apartment window, he opened it and entered after entering the access code. His dog Haley approached him, he gave her a few pats before he reached his phone and called Y/N... But she didn't answer his calls.... He tried and tried and tried... But no answer... Could it be true?... Did Y/N leave the house?... Why?....

He was going to call Bruce but he was mad at him for not stopping Y/N from leaving and that he might be the reason Y/N left. So he decided to call Alfred who immediately answered, "Mr. Dick, how may I help you?" "Hello Alfred... Sorry to bother you now... The thing is... I..." Dick hesitated... He was afraid to hear the answer...

“I just called Y/N and she didn’t answer… so I was wondering if everything was okay…” Dick answered, praying with all his might that there was an excuse other than the divorce… “Oh… Mr. Dick… I don’t know how to tell you this… but… Y/N and Bruce have been divorced for three months now…” Alfred’s answer was like a knife slicing into his chest… well maybe deep down he knew the divorce was real… but… three months ago?… and no one told him?… “How… why?… why the divorce, and why didn’t anyone tell me?” Dick’s voice was muffled, he tried not to cry, he tried to control himself a little… “I’m sorry Mr. Dick… it was such a shock to everyone that I forgot to tell you… as for the divorce, Y/N chose that herself… unfortunately…” Alfred’s voice was filled with pain, making it even harder for Dick to hold back his tears… Y/N had left them… she had left them…

Dick hung up the phone after thanking Alfred and collapsed on the floor crying… His dog Haley was beside him trying to comfort him… But it didn’t work… It took Dick maybe half an hour to calm himself down… He tried to take deep breaths in and out… Then he hugged his dog Haley who had already settled happily in his lap. Dick was sitting on the floor leaning his head on the bed behind him while looking at the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn’t help but remember all the memories with Y/N. Dick may not have said it out loud before, but he considered Y/N as his mother… She always took care of him, he still remembers the first time he came to Wayne Manor after his parents died, he was full of anger and wanted revenge, Bruce was trying to channel his anger in a good way to fight the bad guys, but Y/N allowed him to vent his anger, by crying and getting all his feelings out and not holding them in, he remembers that he was mean to her at first, thinking that she was trying to be his mother, but after a while, it turned out that she was just trying to help him, she helped him decorate his parents' grave, buy new things, and when he fought with Bruce she took his side… and even now she still against Bruce and side with Damian, he loved the stories she told, she helped him and encouraged him to speak his mind and thoughts and not hold them in… even when he had a big fight with Bruce and decided to leave the house to be independent… She called him every night, asking him how he was, and if he tried to lie she would know and ask him to tell the truth, which he actually couldn't resistance, so he was always honest with her, Dick was used to being a leader and a good big brother, everyone depended on him… and Y/N was the one he could count on, she was the light of his life, she was family, until recently she used to call him and check on him, now he knew why she hadn't called in three months… He sighed and looked down to see that Haley was asleep, he picked her up and put her in her bed. Even if Y/N had left the house, she still loved them, he was sure, maybe if he went back to Gotham and talked to her he would understand, yeah, maybe she had left the house, but she wouldn't leave them, she still loved them. He was sure

In Gotham... specifically at Wayne Manor, Tim was suffering from a headache and back pain, he was lying in his bed... well maybe not his bed, but in Y/N's bed and room. His work and the pile of papers were almost competing with the towering mountains... when did paperwork become so stressful and tiring? He didn't remember this ever being a problem for him, he wouldn't lie to himself, he knew that Y/N's departure was the reason for the work to be doubled, the sleep to be less, and the pain to be more, Y/N used to do almost all the work for him, so he could rest, but now he couldn't balance his sleeping time, eating, doing all the work, solving cases, and becoming Red Robin, it was too much, Y/N was managing it so well, she did his work, made sure he ate and drank enough before she literally dragged him from the Batcave to the palace to sleep against his will, she always carried him like a baby, he always wondered how she could carry him so easily, okay he'd admit that when he first came to the palace he was a very skinny baby, but he grew up and became muscular, maybe not like Dick or Jason but he sure wasn't light, anyway that didn't concern him now... The problem here is that he hasn't slept in... two days? He doesn't know, maybe it's been three days... He hates that Y/N used to carry him to his room and stay by his side until he fell asleep, and he hated that she knew that sometimes he pretended to sleep, so she wouldn't leave until Tim was completely asleep... Sometimes Tim couldn't sleep easily, like when there was a mission or a case on his mind but Y/N carried him to his room before he could finish it, so he would complain and sometimes beg Y/N to finish the case, that it wouldn't take long, but Y/N always refused... And he couldn't sleep because of the case that consumed his mind, so Y/N would sometimes tell him stories... And it worked to make him sleep... He wondered if Y/N's stories were real, because they didn't seem imaginary at all, her stories were strangely realistic, to the point that all Tim's attention was only on the story until he fell asleep. And so Tim became forced to sleep because of Y/N, food and water, when he should take a break and when he should finish the case, Y/N was organizing his life, he didn't remember getting tired or exhausted from this organization, on the contrary, he was getting enough sleep and food to renew his energy, and even after he came back from his break he would come back with more energy and his solving of cases was at an amazingly higher rate than before, it was very useful, Y/N was the only one who knew how to organize him amazingly with all the work he had. But Y/N wasn't just organizing his life, she even hid his mistakes. Sometimes he would come back from missions with some wounds. Tim didn't like to say that he was injured, it made him weak, and he didn't want to be weak, but Y/N would discover every wound he had, even if it was hidden. The good thing was that she never told Bruce about the injuries, and if the injuries were serious, she would make an excuse for Tim not to go on the next mission. She would cover up all his failures and mistakes in silence... and he was grateful to her. He still remembered when Damian first came and took the Robin costume from him, she would comfort him and stay by his side and tell him that Robin wasn't the one wearing the costume, Robin was the one who protected the children of this city.

It really helped him… he remembered when he asked her advice about his new costume and name, and she encouraged him… she was proud of him, he saw it in her eyes, and when Batman disappeared and everyone thought he was dead and Dick was about to put him in Arkham, Y/N was the first to protest and the first to hit Dick… well that problem was solved a while ago and Y/N was so mad at Dick, it took Dick over three weeks to try to get her to forgive him… it was funny to Tim. She got mad for him. For him… he missed her… she was his whole life, now he couldn’t sleep or work, even his appetite was gone… he could barely survive on coffee now. That’s why he moved into her room a few weeks after she left, he wouldn’t say he slept well, but at least he did, now her scent, her warmth, even her voice and her look at him were gone. When he moved into her room he had a fight with Damian about it, that was the first and last fight they had since Y/N left. Damian wouldn't like it if Tim was the one taking over Y/N's room, and it was a long, tiring fight, in which Damian gave in for the first time ever, letting Tim sleep in Y/N's room. Tim knew very well why Damian was angry, that he missed Y/N too, Damian had changed dramatically after her departure, he barely spoke inside the house, and even on missions he didn't have the same enthusiasm as usual, and he didn't blame Damian for that, he missed her himself... but he had to thank his position as CEO of WE for that which helped him see Y/N a lot, he had multiple meetings with Y/N's family company under the pretext of resuming relations again, just to see Y/N, and one of the meetings was always cancelled due to circumstances, whether from his side or Y/N's, and the first meeting that finally happened was last night, and after more than three months he saw Y/N again, when she entered the meeting room she automatically patted him on the head and asked him how he was and that his appearance looked bad and he should eat and sleep well... Tim was silent, he felt a lump in his throat, if there weren't other people in the room he would have collapsed and hugged her and asked her to come back, but he remained silent looking down Trying to breathe slowly, after the meeting ended he wanted to catch up with her, and talk to her alone and tell her that he needed her back, he hadn't slept in a long time, but because of some old businessmen that Tim was planning to throw out who blocked his way with some questions, invitations and failed offers that caused Tim to be late to catch up with Y/N, but it's okay, he will have another meeting with her, and he will ask her to go home.

Tim sighed as he tried to sleep for the sixth time and was about to fall asleep this time but the knocking on the door woke him up. He grumbled and cursed under his breath at the person at the door unless that person was Alfred, Tim got up lazily and opened the door to be surprised by Damian standing at the door... "Oh? Damian? What's wrong?" Tim noticed Damian's eyes were puffy from crying, he wasn't surprised, ever since Y/N left Damian had been crying a lot, not that anyone would tell him that was obvious. "I want you to find me two people, they're from my school, and they call Y/N my aunt." Damian said calmly without any arrogance. Tim looked at him in confusion for a while, could it be that Damian was after Y/N now? "And before you say anything I know that you're trying to get Y/N back through the meetings you request from her family's company." Damian continued crossing his arms. Tim tensed for a moment, he didn't know that it was obvious, then sighed in surrender. "Okay, come in."

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[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[baambied]

꣑ৎ 𝑫𝑰𝑫 𝑰 𝑫𝑶 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫?

cw. nsfw oral (reader!receiving) clit play vi cums untouched m.list basically vi discovering she has a praise kink

dom!vi × subfem!reader

vi stood by the kitchen counter, slowly cutting the carrots you sweetly asked her to do..tonight you two decided to just stay in and help eachother cook....you didn't cook much - if anything vi was the one who liked wiping things up in the kitchen...she's good chef ..yes - but an easily distracted one, she'd get distracted by you or random stuff on her phone causing some things to be slightly burnt but still very edible.

she's watching the meat cook on the stove? no problem! but she would slowly get distracted by her phone and eventually walking to the living room while watching random tiktoks and gets confused by the burning smell lingering from the kitchen (soon realizing she hadn't watched the food and you two had to order take out instead)

"are you almost done?" your soft voice called out to your girlfriend, you were finally done with chopping potatoes and onions and decided to finally check on vi who was given the job to chop the carrots.

"uhhh just- uh about done yeah!" vi spoke as she quickly cut the last carrot wanting to impress you with her 'amazing' cooking cutting skills, placing both hands on her hips with a smile as she looked down at her masterpiece.

you peered over her shoulder observing her work..pursing your lips as you eyed the perfectly cut pieces of carrots on the cutting board, vi's blue powder eyes eyed your reaction with anticipation, small cocky smirk on her face - she knew cutting vegetables was never something you enjoyed.. you never could get the sizes correct..

you breathed out, mind going back to the potatos and onions you had just got done with realizing you cut yours way to big, your hand softly caresses vi's lower back, your mouth leaning to vi's ear.

"you did so good baby, this all looks delicious" you spoke with a soft smile before walking away completely missing vi's suddenly wide eyes and red flustered cheeks in result of your words, her lips pressing together hardly as her face was put in a small frown..her stomach having a huge pit of butterflies that seemed to come out of nowhere..

what the fuck?

vi head whipped to your figure by the stove, mixing around the broth as you added seasonings in it, you then go back to pick up your knife to dice some of the vegetables you had just cut...small focused pout on your face as you began to dice them to make them smaller sizes like vi's carrots.

usually vi would smile and tease at you for your actions but her eyebrows stayed frowned as she turned back to look at the carrots on the cutting board.

the tingling sensation didn't leave her chest and the butterflies in her stomach continued flapping around... she thought about your words - how such a small sentence could have a big affect on her....

and why did she like it so much..

second time was when she came home after a long day at the gym, throwing her gym back on couch and groaning at her sore limbs, rolling her shoulders back as she slammed her body against the couch with a sigh.

"baby?" vi's tired voice called out for you as she listened to any sound of you throughout the apartment, she began to smile once she heard your feet pattering against the floor as you ran into the living room

"vi?- oh you're back so early!" you exclaimed as you went behind the couch and gave her backside a hug over it "how was the gym?" you questioned kissing her neck.

vi groaned as she turned her head towards you, eyes flickered over your face before she answered back "good..i guess - I'm so fucking sore though"

you smiled at vi and stood up straight, your hands on her shoulders as you began to pressed down and massaged them causing vi to let out a deep groan "hmmm - that feels good.." vi groaned out putting her head forward.

"bet you were so good at the gym, hm? - that's why you're all sore huh?"

vi could feel her cheeks flush up at your words, freckled face going red... her stomach suddenly getting all bubbly as she swallowed thickly..she didn't know if it was because of her sore muscles, stressed body she couldn't help but feel pent up at your choice of words..and the way you said it..so...seductively?? or was that vi's brain tricking her...

it was such a simple sentence but it left her body with a pleasant tingly sensation

ignoring the pulsing in her boxers she swallowed

"ye-yeah - was a long day.."

the time she was sure she liked being praised was when she was going down on you one day, vi was stressed due to her work and wanted to relax..but it seemed like everything she did made her even more tense and she couldn't understand why...she just wanted to feel good and relax...

which lead her to eventually have her head between your legs, her tongue slowly lapping at your slick,wet cunt , her bandaged hands tightly gripping her thighs letting out soft moans whenever she heard you whine in pleasure.

her movement growing faster as her lips sucked your clit roughly - she wanted to feel your cum on her tongue..she wanted to swallow you whole if she could

"hmm - v-vi- fuck!" you moaned out as both hands pulled at her hair causing her to let out a groan at your actions, she roughly slapped a hand on your thigh causing you to yelp and flinch

her head moving up and down, side to side on your clit with her tongue out..blue half lidded eyes staring up at you... her hips sometimes buckling on the bed to ease the pulsing between her own thighs.

her boxers were definitely wet with her own slick, she could feel herself clenching around absolutely nothing which only caused her to groan even further, she then leaned back causing you to whine at the lost of contact between her lips and your wet cunt, she moved her hand off your thigh and around..

her fingers now on your pussy, one finger slowly swiping through your wet, sticky folds causing you to gasp as your hips twitched..it was almost like vi was entranced, her eyes staring at your cunt as her finger slowly swiped through it her mouth agaped at the sight

"vi-vi please.." you whined out, buckling your hips "hm fuck - please vi"

vi's fingers stop at your clit, she began softly circling it with the pads on her fingers causing you to let out a moan as you spread your legs wider.

vi's head leaned back down as her tounge then develed in you cunt, she could feel your slick walls around her pink muscle, she could feel you clenching around her

"hm f-fuck! vi feels so good- i- I'm so close please.." you choked out, your hand moving towards your own breast,massaging them as your thumbs touched your nipples "y-youre so..good - so good for me.." your breathed out to vi

"you're - fuck! - making me feel so good baby...you're so good.."

it seemed your words flickered something in vi, her cheeks flushing redder at your sudden praise, her hips buckling harder on the bed beneath her when she felt her own pussy clench, wanting attention more than anything

vi moaned out against your cunt, moving her hand that was rubbing at your clit faster, while keeping her tongue still inside you pulsing hole..she wanted - no..needed you to cum on her tongue

"fuck! - I'm gonna!"you let out a loud, pitched moan as you could feel yourself cum undone on vi's tongue , your whole body twitching as your hips buckled in vi's face.....what you didn't notice was vi's own hips buckling on the bed, twitching for few seconds than stopping, her moving her hand on your hip to squeeze it for comfort at she felt you cum in her mouth...feeling herself cum untouched in her boxers

as you both calmed down, vi removed her mouth from your cunt, licking you up before leaning her head on her lower stomach, cheek pressed up against you, she could hear you breath hardly as you came down from your high..she could still feel her hips twitch as she also came down from hers..her eyes closed and both hands caressing your hips..

she wanted to ask

had to ask

"did - ...did i do good?" vi muttered out..embarrassment taking over her body as soon as those words left her mouth before she could say anything else your voice was heard

"you always do so good for me...the only one who can make me feel this good" you breathed out in response

the tingly sensation was back in vi's stomach as she heard your praise..cheeks pink as she closed her eyes, softly kissing your lower stomach in response.

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMIDNIGHT COMPANY * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　while filming a car video, the triplets witness a girl - Y/N - arguing with her boyfriend. When he smashes her phone and leaves her alone at midnight in the middle of a random parking lot, Chris steps in.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　toxic relationship, yelling, fighting, being hurt physically and emotionally, manipulation, panicking.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N didn't meant for things to end up like that.

She really didn't.

She was just walking alongside her boyfriend through the Target aisles, her eyes darting nervously between the shelves and the floor.

But she should know better. He had already been irritated when they left the apartment - something about her taking too long to get ready - and now, every move she made felt like a mistake.

"Stick close." Her boyfriend had muttered, his voice low but firm. His eyes darted around the store, scanning the aisles of brightly colored products with an air of impatience. "I don’t want to spend all night in here."

Y/N nodded quickly, her throat dry.

"Okay."

They made their way down the main aisle, her boyfriend grabbing a few items and putting them into the cart with little regard. It was always like that; he made the decisions, and she just agreed and moved on.

He paused at the end of that same aisle, scanning the shelves with a discerning eye. She lingered a few steps behind, observing.

He grabbed a box of granola bars from the shelf, tossing it into the cart with a louder thud. She winced at the sound, her stomach knotting with unease.

"Why are you standing there? Do you see the cereal we get?" He asked, his tone clipped.

Her throat tightened. She scanned the shelves frantically, her eyes moving over the rows of colorful boxes. She wasn’t sure if it was the green box or the blue one.

"Um, I think..." She started, reaching hesitantly toward one of the options.

"Don’t think. Look." He snapped, already sounding exasperated.

Her hand faltered, and she pulled it back. Her heart was pounding, and her palms had grown clammy against the leather strap of her purse. She wanted to go home.

They turned into the household goods section, where shelves were lined with glass containers, picture frames, and other fragile items. Her boyfriend stopped abruptly, examining a set of drinking glasses with a critical eye.

"Do you think these match the ones we already have?" He asked, holding up a box with pretty crystal wine glasses.

Y/N hesitated, unsure if he wanted an answer or was just thinking out loud.

"I-I think so."

Her boyfriend sighed, setting the box down with a clatter.

"You’re not even paying attention."

"I am." She said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper, desperately searching for his free hand. "I promise."

"Whatever." He muttered, letting her squeeze his fingers once before dropping hers, moving on.

Y/N quickly followed, trying to stay out of his way, her eyes fixed on his tall figure, crossing her hands in front of her body and forcing her brain to pay more attention to anything he touched or pointed out. She couldn't risk him thinking that she didn't care.

As she passed by one of the shelves, her purse brushed against a precariously balanced display of small vases. Time seemed to slow as the first vase teetered, then fell, hitting the shelf below it and sending a chain reaction through the display.

Crash!

The sound was deafening. Glass shattered across the floor, the pieces glinting under the white lights. Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at the mess, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.

"Oh my god. Are you serious?" Her boyfriend hissed under his breath.

She dropped to her knees instinctively, trembling as she tried to gather the pieces with her bare hands.

"I’m sorry." She whispered, her voice trembling and desperate.

"You're fucking nbelievable." He muttered under his breath, loud enough for her to hear.

She stopped for a moment, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t crying because of the spilled glasses. It wasn’t even about the moment itself. It was about the weight of knowing that every mistake she made was a reason for him to get tired of her. To leave her.

"I’m sorry." She whispered, again and again, the words tumbling out of her mouth as though they might undo the damage. "I’m so s-sorry."

But it wasn’t just an apology. It was an instinctive response, born from the fear of making him feel any sort of negative emotion at all. She knew that he wouldn’t brush this off, wouldn’t laugh, and say it was no big deal. He would be mad, and she couldn't let him get mad at her. Not again.

She desperately wanted to shrink herself down into something more digestible for him at that moment. Something he could chew up, spit out, and discard - like gum.

A woman at the end of the aisle glanced over, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. A man on the opposite side peeked around the corner, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Y/N’s face burned with humiliation. She felt their stares on her, for sure, full of judgment. Her hands fumbled over the shards, shaking too hard to pick them up properly.

Her boyfriend crouched down beside her, his expression now unusually calm. His hand landed on her shoulder, but the grip was firm, bordering on painful.

"Y/N, honey, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself."

"I’m sorry." She whispered again, the tears on her eyes starting to burn her orbs with the force she used to stop the drops from escaping. She couldn’t let him see her break. She’d learned the hard way that crying only made him angrier.

"Stop it." He said more firmly, moving his hand through her arm, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from the glass. He looked up at the people looking back at them and forced a polite, almost apologetic smile. "She’s... a little clumsy. Always has been. Right, honey? I know you didn’t mean to. You can’t help it, can you?"

Y/N stiffened, her stomach churning. She forced her head to move up and down, the movement coming out almost robotic.

"You’re just... distracted. All the time." He continued, his smile cold and tight. "That’s why these things happen. You can’t focus."

She wanted to argue, to tell him that she wasn’t some careless mess, but the words died in her throat. What good would it do?

"Here." He said, taking an empty cardboard box near them and shoving the pieces to the side with it, taking it all out of the way. "There. Fixed. See?"

She nodded, swallowing hard.

"Now, get up."

She stood, her knees wobbling slightly as she adjusted the strap of her purse. He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

"It’s okay." He continued, speaking louder now so the others could hear. "She just gets a little overwhelmed sometimes. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this."

The man at the end of the aisle nodded, giving her boyfriend a small, understanding smile. The woman pursed her lips and turned away, muttering something about how 'accidents happen'.

"Let’s go." He said through clenched teeth as he started walking toward the exit.

"But-"

"No." His voice was low, but the warning was clear. He smiled tightly at the few remaining onlookers as he dragged her past them.

Her face burned with humiliation, but she kept quiet, her eyes glued to the floor. His grip tightened when her feet seemed to disobey her brain, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

The automatic doors slid open, and the cool night air rushed over her, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her head. Her boyfriend’s pace didn’t slow, his hand still gripping her skin as he led her toward the parking lot.

Her heart was pounding, her thoughts spiraling into chaos. She felt like a child being scolded, small and powerless, her voice locked somewhere deep inside her throat.

When they reached the car, he finally let go of her arm, shoving her away as if she were a piece of garbage. She stumbled slightly, catching herself against the side of the car, waiting for whatever came next.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

From the other side of their spot in the parking lot, the triplets were parked, their van slightly away from the main entrance. It was Wednesday night, and they were filming their weekly video, the interior of the van alive with yells and laughter.

"... No, seriously, people do that sometimes." Chris said, turning slightly towards Matt while trying to prove his point. "Patches O'Houlihan, he did that."

Matt scoffed, looking at him with an 'are you serious?' look.

"From Dodgeball? The fictional character?" He laughed incredulously, looking at Nick through the rearview, ready for another weird thing to come out of Chris's mouth.

Nick's attention, however, wasn’t on him - or them, for that matter. It was on the world outside. He always had a habit of scanning his surroundings, probably in a way of caring for himself and his brothers.

As Chris kept going, earning a loud groan from Matt, Nick’s eyes caught movement across the parking lot, almost exactly in front of their van. Near one of the parked cars, a couple stood in the golden glow of a streetlamp.

Nick’s stomach twisted. Something about the way the guy loomed over the girl, his gestures sharp and erratic, immediately set off alarm bells. The girl was visibly distressed, her arms crossed over her chest, her posture shrinking with every second.

Without thinking, Nick leaned forward and slapped Chris on the shoulder, interrupting him.

"Nick, what the-" Chris began, turning sharply, his annoyance evident.

"Shut up." Nick hissed, his voice low but firm, cutting through Chris’s protest. He nodded toward the couple. "Look."

Chris frowned but followed Nick’s gaze, his expression shifting from irritation to curiosity and then to concern. Matt, who had been in the middle of adjusting his hoodie, leaned closer to the windshield.

"What’s going on?" Matt asked, his voice quieter now.

Nick didn’t answer, instead reaching for the button to lower his window, easing it down. A faint, angry voice carried into the van, growing clearer as the man’s yelling intensified.

"... do you even understand how embarrassing you are?"

The girl stood frozen, her arms clutching her sides as though trying to hold herself together. Her head was bowed, her hair shielding her face from the world. She didn’t respond, didn’t dare to look up, and that only seemed to fuel his anger.

"What the fuck?" Matt muttered, leaning forward slightly to get a better look, his eyes glued to the scene.

"You think I’m joking?" He snapped, stepping closer to her. "You think I enjoy having every pair of eyes in that store on me because you can’t manage to walk without causing a damn scene?" The man continued, stepping closer to her.

Her response was so soft that it barely reached the triplets’ ears.

"I’m sorry..."

"Sorry?" The man laughed bitterly. "You’re always sorry. You’re sorry when you spill coffee, you’re sorry when you trip over your own feet, and now you’re sorry for knocking over half a shelf like a goddamn child?"

The girl flinched at his words, biting her bottom lip while taking a small - almost imperceptible - step back.

Chris tensed after watching her reaction, his jaw tightening.

"This guy’s a piece of-"

"Chris, shush." Matt snapped, his voice low.

"I told you before, didn’t I? Stop acting like a fool every time we’re out in public. This is for your own good." The man spat.

"I didn’t mean to-" She started, but he cut her off quickly.

"Shut up!" He barked, his voice echoing across the lot. She shrank back, her body trembling. "You know better than to talk back to me." He growled, taking another step closer.

"I wasn’t-"

"Stop talking!" He barked, his voice echoing across the empty lot probably louder than intended. "Every time you open your mouth, you make it worse. Do you even understand that? Or are you too stupid to figure it out?"

Tears accumulated inside her eyeballs, shining below the lights.

"Look, I’ll call an Uber, okay?" Y/N murmured, her voice cracking. "You can go home and calm down. Please."

"Oh, you’ll call an Uber? Sure, let’s waste more of my money on your screw-ups." The man’s laugh was sharp and bitter.

She reached into her purse, her hands shaking as she pulled out her phone, unlocking it and trying to search for tha app, being harshly interrupted when the man snatched the device from her grip with such force that she stumbled.

Chris shifted uncomfortably, his fists clenched on his lap.

"Do we step in?"

"I don't think we should, not right now." Nick whispered.

"Give it back. Please, baby." She asked, her voice weak, trembling.

"Why? So you can text your little friends about what a terrible boyfriend I am?" He sneered, holding the phone high above his head.

Y/N's mouth dropped open, her wet eyes widening as if he had just committed the worst crime.

"Baby, please." She begged, her tears now falling freely, causing her voice to break. "I would never ever do that. I love you so much, you know that, right?"

He ignored her. With a single, violent motion, he hurled the phone to the ground. The sound of glass and plastic shattering against the pavement echoed in the silence.

She recoiled as though the blow had landed on her instead of the device, a squeak involuntarily escaping from her mouth. Her arms wrapped tighter around herself as she stared at the broken pieces. Her whole life, broken.

"Should've had taken that shit from you sooner." The man spat, shaking his head. "Pathetic. Can’t do anything right."

Matt and Nick exchanged horrified glances through the rearview, Chris's face pale by their side.

"P-please, don't leave me here, baby. I love you, I'm so sorry." The girl begged, gluing her hands in a praying gesture in front of her body. "I promise I'll do better."

"I can't even look at your face right now." The man shook his head. "I need some time, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer before storming off to the driver-side of his car, slamming the door and speeding out of the lot, tires screeching against the asphalt.

Y/N stood frozen, her trembling figure illuminated by the lights and the moon.

Chris didn’t think. One second, he was staring at her, and the next, his hand was on the van door handle, yanking it open.

"Chris!" Matt hissed from the driver’s seat. "What are you doing?"

"Chris- what the fuck?!" Nick added, his voice urgent but not loud enough to stop him.

But Chris couldn’t wait. He couldn’t sit there any longer, watching this girl suffer alone.

He bolted from the van, the cool night air hitting him like a slap, but he barely noticed. His long strides carried him across the parking lot, his heart pounding not from his pace but from pure urgency.

"Oh my god, he's crazy!" Matt’s groan echoed from behind him, but it was distant, like background noise.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

The closer he got, the more his stomach churned. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks blotchy and raw from crying. But she wasn’t just crying. She was panicking. He could see it in the way her hands trembled uncontrollably, and in the way her breath came in short, sharp gasps.

Chris slowed as he approached her, not wanting to startle her. She was staring at the exit of the parking lot, her wide, unfocused and tear-filled eyes locked on the gate arm as though it was the only thing anchoring her to the ground.

"Hey." He said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

She flinched, her head snapping up, and her gaze locked on him as she took a step back. For a moment, she looked utterly terrified, and Chris's throat tightened.

He quickly held his hands up, palms out, trying to show her he wasn’t a threat.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay." He said quickly. "I just... I saw what happened, and I wanted to check if you’re okay."

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head, taking another step back, her back almost hitting the metal post of the streetlight.

"You don’t have to be scared." Chris said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. I just want to help."

She looked at him again, her watery eyes studying his face as though trying to figure out if he was lying.

Chris took a cautious step closer, keeping his movements slow.

"You’re shaking." He said gently. "It's freezing out here. Can I... can I give you my hoodie?"

She blinked at him, her brows furrowing slightly.

"Why?" She croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because it’s cold, and you’re upset, and I’d feel better if you weren’t standing out here like this." Chris said honestly, shrugging off his hoodie - ignoring how the hairs on his arm fully stood up with the cold air - and holding it out to her.

She hesitated, her eyes darting from his face to the piece of clothing, then back again.

"It’s okay." Chris reassured her. "You don’t have to take it, but I promise it’s clean. And warm."

After what felt like an eternity, she slowly reached out and took the hoodie from him. Her hands were trembling so much that she almost dropped it, but she managed to pull it to her chest, pressing it against her covered skin.

"Thank you." She mumbled, her voice shaky.

Chris exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

"Of course. What’s your name?" He asked in a soft tone. "I'm Chris."

She blinked her eyes at him, frowning, clearly surprised by the question.

"Y-Y/N." She said hesitantly.

"Y/N." He repeated, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "It’s really nice to meet you... Um, do you want to sit down? You look like you need a second."

She looked around the parking lot again before nodding slowly, and Chris gestured to the curb nearby. He waited until she sat down before taking a seat a few feet away, giving her space but staying close enough that she wouldn’t feel alone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"I’m fine." She finally said - even though it wasn't what Chris was expecting to hear, her voice cutting through the silence, hoarse and shaky.

Chris tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing.

"I don’t think you are."

"I am." She insisted, but her voice cracked on the words, betraying her.

Chris turned his face slightly to the side to meet her eyes, curving his upper body, trying to make himself seem less imposing.

"I know you don’t know me. Well, only my name now." He said softly. "But I can tell you’re not fine. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be. Not after that."

She bit her lower lip hard, and for a second, Chris thought she might break down again. But instead, she straightened her spine, her trembling hands wiping at her tear-streaked face.

"It's not as bad as it looked. He was just angry." She said quietly, almost as if she was saying that to herself. "It’s not his fault. I... I messed up."

Chris’s heart sank at her words.

"You didn’t mess up." He said firmly, his voice laced with conviction.

She shook her head, her hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie tightly.

"I did. I dropped something, broke it, actually. It was stupid, and it drew attention to us, and... and he doesn’t like that. He was just trying to make me understand."

Chris stared at her, his chest tightening painfully.

"That’s not okay." He said softly. "No one should treat you like that, no matter what happened."

"You don’t understand." She said, her voice rising slightly as she hugged herself tighter. "He just... he gets frustrated sometimes, but it’s because he cares. He doesn’t mean to be mean."

Chris’s jaw clenched, a mix of anger and sadness boiling inside him.

"Love isn’t supposed to be like that, Y/N." He said gently. "It’s not supposed to hurt you and leave you standing in a parking lot crying, shaking, and alone."

Her eyes filled with fresh tears again, and she looked away, staring at the ground as if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.

"You don’t know him." She whispered, shaking her head vehemently.

Chris wanted to scream, to grab her shoulders, and shake her until she understood that what she was describing wasn’t love. It was control, manipulation, and abuse. But even though he had never helped a victim of a toxic and abusive relationship before, he knew he should keep his voice calm, so he did it, maintaining his tone soft and steady.

"You’re right." He said. "I don’t know him. But I know what I saw, and I can only imagine what it feels like to have someone make you think you’re the problem when you’re not."

Her head whipped toward him, her eyes narrowing.

"You don’t know anything about me."

Chris held up his hands.

"You’re right again. I don’t. But I’m not here to judge you. I’m here because I want to help. No strings, no expectations. Just... let me help. I can't leave you alone here for the rest of the night."

She shook her head again, her hands trembling as she brushed her hair out of her face.

"I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this. It isn't fair to him. He’d be so heartbroken if he knew."

Chris watched her for a second too long.

"But you deserve to talk to someone." He finally said. "You deserve to feel safe."

"I am safe!" She snapped, her voice ringing out in the empty parking lot. The declaration sounded hollow, as if she was trying to convince herself more than him.

Chris took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second.

"I just want to help you." He said, his tone pleading. "Do you have someone you can call? A family member, a friend? You can use my phone-"

Her reaction was immediate and panicked. She shook her head furiously, her eyes wide with fear as her body tightened, seeming ready to stand up and run.

"No! No, I can’t call anyone."

"Why not?" Chris asked gently, though his heart was racing, his eyes traveling quickly to his car where his brothers were before going back to Y/N. "They’d want to help you, just like I do."

"I said no!" She cried, her voice cracking. Her breathing was shallow and quick now, teetering on the edge of hyperventilation. "You don’t understand. I can’t just call someone. And you... you need to go. God, you shouldn’t even be here."

Chris frowned, his brows knitting together.

"Please, I’m just trying to-"

"You don’t get it." She interrupted, her voice hushed but frantic. She glanced around the parking lot as though expecting her boyfriend to be there somewhere, watching them. "He’s going to come back. And if he sees you here, if he thinks... you need to leave. Now."

Chris’s stomach dropped at the sheer terror in her voice.

"Y/N, he won't hurt you in any type of way while I'm here with you. I can promise you that." He moved a bit closer again, careful not to make any sudden movement. "Let me do something for you. Anything, please."

"You can’t." She whispered, her voice barely audible. "No one can. Please, just go. He’s going to be here soon, and I-I can’t let him see you."

She was holding onto that story like it was a lifeline, but the way her hands trembled and her breath hitched betrayed her doubt.

"What if he doesn’t?" Chris asked gently. "What if he’s not coming back tonight?"

Her face fell for a brief moment before she quickly masked it, straightening up.

"He will." She said, though there was no conviction in her tone. "He always does."

Chris nodded, looking around dismissively.

"Okay. Maybe he will. But just in case... maybe you could let me help you. You don’t have to trust me, I get that. I'm a stranger. But let me offer you something. A safe place to wait."

"I don’t have anywhere to go." She admitted, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the night air. "Just our house. And I don't think I should go back there now."

Chris’s heart twisted at her words and how uncertain they sound, but he kept his expression neutral, careful not to show pity.

"Okay." He said softly. "Then maybe you can just... talk to me. You don’t have to get in my car. We can sit out here. I’ll stay right here in the open where you can see me."

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the ground.

"Why do you care so much?"

Chris crossed his legs above the pavement, relaxing his posture further.

"Because I know what it’s like to feel like you’re on your own." He said simply. "And because I don’t think anyone should have to go through something like this alone. You don’t deserve that."

She hesitated, her gaze watching her hands above her thighs.

"I won’t call the police unless you want me to." Chris added. "I won’t push you to do anything you don't want to do. But you don’t have to deal with this alone."

Her lip quivered, and she closed her eyes tightly, her voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t even know what I’d do."

Chris’s heart ached for her, but he kept his tone steady.

"How about this." He said. "I’ll stay with you until you figure that out. If you want, I can take you to a hotel, or I can help you find somewhere else to stay for the night. But whatever you decide, I’m not going to leave you here."

She was silent for a long time, her shoulders rising and falling with each shaky breath. Finally, she nodded, just once.

"Okay." She said.

Chris exhaled slowly, relief washing over him.

"Okay." He echoed.

For the first time that night, she looked at him fully, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and cautious hope.

He opened his widest smile in response, leaning back slightly with his palms against the curb behind his back and glancing up at the sky.

"You know." He started, his tone casual. "This isn’t exactly the way I imagined spending my Wednesday night."

Her eyes scanned his face carefully, frowning, feeling like she was the one to destroy his day - or night.

"What do you mean?" She asked hesitantly, her voice hoarse.

Chris shrugged, being careful not to mention his career. He didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Well, usually on Wednesdays, I’m sitting in my van with my brothers, arguing over who gets to pick the fast-food spot. We’re probably debating something ridiculous, too."

That earned him the smallest, almost imperceptible twitch of her lips. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something. It encouraged Chris to continue.

"My brothers are idiots, by the way." He said, his tone light. "Don’t tell them I said that, though. They'll get big heads thinking I actually pay attention to their nonsense."

Her brow rose slightly, curiosity tugging at the edges of her expression, her body instinctively leaning towards him.

"What are they like?"

Chris chuckled, throwing his head to the side, laying his cheek against his shoulder and looking at her eyes.

"They're amazing. Weird, but amazing. They're so funny in their individual way, always making me laugh so hard that sometimes I feel like I could pass out."

This time, she let out a soft, breathy laugh, and Chris felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, but it was progress.

"You’re close with them?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." Chris said, nodding. "It’s hard not to be when you all live and do everything together. But they’re good guys. Annoying as hell, but good."

She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the frayed edge of his hoodie sleeve.

"Must be nice." She murmured.

Chris’s smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly.

"It is." He admitted. "But, you know, we fight sometimes. Like, really fight. Last week, Matt threw a punch at me because I wouldn’t stop talking during his game."

Her lips twitched again, and this time, it was a small, shy smile.

"What were you saying?" She asked, her voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement.

"Oh, some random shit. Can’t even remember now. Probably something embarrassing, knowing me." Chris grinned. "Matt said I was ruining his concentration, but honestly, I think he just doesn’t appreciate my brain work."

She shook her head slightly, her smile lingering.

"You’re ridiculous." She said softly, almost reflexively, but as soon as the words left her mouth, her expression shifted. Her body tensed up, her shoulders pulling in as her eyes darted to him in alarm. "I didn’t mean-"

"Guilty as charged." Chris smoothly interrupted her, opening a smirk while looking at her, trying to express through his eyes that it was okay. "But, hey, if ridiculous is what it takes to make you laugh, then I’m all in."

Her looked down again at the pavement, scraping her shoes over the small rocks.

"Thanks." She said quietly.

"For what?" Chris asked, his voice gentle.

"For... keeping me company." She said, her gaze fixed on her lap. "I don’t feel... as bad right now."

Chris felt a lump in his throat but pushed it down, keeping his tone light.

"Anytime." He said. "I’ve got a whole arsenal of dumb stories and good jokes if you need them."

She looked at him then, her eyes softer than before.

"You’re really nice." She said, pressing her lips in a fine line.

Chris shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

"I just don’t like seeing people hurt." He said honestly. "And, I don’t know, you seem like someone who deserves a lot better than... all this."

Her eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, Chris thought she might start crying again. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded.

"Thanks." She said again, her voice steadier this time.

Chris gave her a warm smile.

"No problem. Now, how do you feel about bad puns? Because I’ve got a killer one about a duck and a lawyer."

Her laughter filled the cold night air, causing a large smile to stretch across Chris's lips. He would do everything in his power to help this girl.

© vanteguccir

[criminalamnesia]

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.

[kaidasdesires]

“Your Eyes Only.” : Heeseung

☾ grouping: Heeseung x afab reader

☾ rating: 18+, explicit content

☾ wc: 7.6k

☾ content warnings: aphrodisiac, altered state, y/n feels like she's been drugged, explicit sex, wax play, light choking and hair pulling, brief oral

☾ summary: Heeseung calls y/n to the studio to show her a new song he's working on. He thinks y/n is as beautiful as a piece of art and wants to show her what that looks like to him.

Or, Heeseung is a siren and uses his voice to seduce y/n and show her how good he can make her feel.

☾ author note: This story is fiction and does not reflect the personalities or desires of those it is written about. This story has some scenes that may be uncomfortable for some readers, read at your own discretion.

☾ taglist: @who-tf-soddhi , @imnotyizhuo , @deobitifull , @ochaluver , @jakeswifez , @helenngxz , @enhalusional , @d-dilemma , @heerinnie , @qeeun-didi , @capri-cuntz , @strxwbloody , @jungwonloverr , @b3tt7boop , @zara2318 , @simbabyj , @gnvi-eve , @babygirlskz98 , @nshmrarki , @50-husbands , @peonywon , @moonpri , @binneulton , @leeheeso , @roslayy , @tunafishyfishylike , @fancypeacepersona , @irenic-max , comment below to be added! <3

It had been a few weeks since the night you got drunk and Jungwon told you everything. Jungwon had still tried to avoid the conversation when he could so you didn’t get much more information out of him. However, as you predicted, nothing had changed. Even with the confession, all of the boys continued to act the same. Sure maybe a little more handsy or flirty than before but nothing crazy. 

It was late in the evening, you had just gotten out of the shower, the steam clinging to your skin as you reached for your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the sender's name: Heeseung.

Hey, are you awake?

You cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. It was unusual for Heeseung to text you in the evening like this. He was usually busy with practice or working on new music.

I’m awake. You okay? 

As you waited for his response, you dried your hair, a towel wrapped around your head. Your mind raced, contemplating why he would be texting you like this suddenly and at this hour.

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Can you come to the studio? 

A slight pang of nervousness hit you. Heeseung didn’t answer you if he was okay and normally his messages weren’t so short. Your hair was dry enough so you quickly changed into a tank top with a cardigan and leggings. 

I’m on the way. 

You texted him back, a sense of urgency hitting you as you left your house and locked the door behind you. The walk was only about 10 minutes and you quickly stopped by the convenience store to get some snacks and coffee for Heeseung. You knew he would appreciate the gesture, as he often spent long nights in the studio working on his music.

Once you got to the building you rang the doorbell and Heeseung buzzed you in. You headed to the elevator and quickly hit the close door button behind you. As you waited for the elevator to arrive on the right floor you thought briefly about how you could cheer Heeseung up if he was having a hard time. Maybe these snacks would help. 

You headed down the hallway to the studio door and when you knocked Heeseung let you in. 

“Hey!” You said a little bit out of breath from your walk and carrying things. When you sat down on the little couch you noticed that Heeseung was alone in the studio. “Where is everyone? Is everything okay Heeseung?” You asked concern in your voice was evident.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted you to hear something I was working on before I showed it to the rest of the guys.” He responded, closing the door behind you. 

“Oh!” You nodded before giving him a sweet smile. “It must be something important to you. I’d be honored.” 

He smiled back. His eyes trailed to the bags you brought with you. “What’s this?” He questioned. 

“I brought you some coffee and snacks. I was honestly a little worried Hee, you don’t typically text me this late at night.” You responded, pulling the snacks and a canned coffee drink out of the bag. 

The studio was a bit cramped. A small couch, a desk that held the music mixing equipment and Heeseung’s computer, a swivel chair, and then the mixing booth. Heeseung sat on the swivel chair in front of you. He took the coffee drink, popped the tab with one hand, and took a sip. 

“I’m just fine. Better now that you're here though.” He said. When you met his eyes he was eyeing you up and down before he took another sip. 

You couldn’t help but blush as his eyes trailed down your body. Your tank top was exposing your chest more than normal but you had just grabbed something that wouldn’t stick to your damp post-shower body. 

Heeseung stood up and pulled a lighter out of his desk before using it to light a few candles around the studio. Heeseung preferred it to be dark when he sang or was working on writing something. You remember he had mentioned before that he didn’t care for artificial light either which is why he opted for candles instead. 

“I hope you like it, I wrote it with someone I like in mind,” Heeseung said, a smirk on his face even though he wasn’t looking at you. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever shown me something I don’t like Heeseung.” You complimented him in response. Then you sat back on the couch getting more comfortable while Heeseung went into the booth and put on his headphones. You assumed his comment wasn’t about you. He started the music and your ears were met with a slow sensual beat. You closed your eyes and listened as Heeseung sang. 

My body is burning up because of you

My heart thirsts because of you

Like a fever, fever, fever, fever

His voice was so beautiful that it seeped into your ears like warm honey. The smell from the candles only heightened your senses as you listened. The smell was something like cedar, a comforting woody smell but with a hint of cinnamon. It was a nice smell. You wished that you could smell this sort of scent all the time. 

I want to embracе you

I want to embrace you

Push me away but my firе still burns

Turn to ash but the flame still rises

You opened your eyes to find that Heeseung was looking right at you as if he was singing to you. You blushed, not realizing he had been watching you. A second after your eyes met his you felt your head spin. You leaned forward and clutched onto the couch to help stabilize yourself. You weren’t the type to suddenly get dizzy like this. Maybe the smell from the candles was getting to you. Heeseung continued to sing, the melodic tune washing over you. He was still watching you but he didn’t seem concerned. 

Like a fever, fever, fever

I want to ache for you

I want to ache for you

Your body started feeling hot and tingly. You were worried you were getting sick suddenly, but you didn’t feel bad per se, just a burning sensation against your skin and a bit dizzy. If it wasn’t so sudden you argue that it felt kind of nice in a way. You lifted your head back up, and everything seemed to be moving a little bit slower than before. You looked back to Heeseung, he was still looking at you, watching you. 

Don't stop 

Yes, all day, all day burn me

Please stop 

My sun, stop baby, oh baby

I beg you, do something, anything

His voice was like fire in your veins, every note he sang you felt like an electric pulse through your body. You felt an overwhelming feeling of desire, a craving for touch and closeness. You pulled off your cardigan, the heat becoming too much for you to handle. 

You didn’t notice when Heeseung had stopped singing and exited the booth. You were still trying to understand why you suddenly felt so weird. He sat beside you and gently patted your head. His hand coming down to rest on the back of your neck. 

“It’s okay, you’ll get used to it soon.” He said, once again glancing over your more exposed skin. “It’s not too much is it darling?” he asked looking at the goosebumps raised on your arms. 

“Heeseung– what– what did you do?” you asked, head still spinning. The sudden pet name almost manages to go over your head. You wanted him to be closer, touching you, anything to help ground you. You grabbed onto his sleeve hoping it would help the feeling. 

“I know Jungwon told you about us. But I noticed that nobody has had the guts to make a move on you yet. Unsurprising really.” He replied, insinuating that the other boys were weak or scared. “This is… just part of who I am. But you're okay, don’t be afraid.” 

“You drugged me?” you asked, feeling even hotter now. That was the only thing that made sense in this situation. Or did it? How could he have possibly drugged you when all he did was light candles and sing to you?

Heeseung laughed before he placed a hand on your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I would never do that pretty girl. Don’t you remember what I said? I told you not to worry and that none of us would ever hurt you.” He reassured you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. 

That voice you had heard in your head at first the other night had been him. Now you felt crazy. A little scared and surprised by the way you couldn’t but help want Heeseung to kiss you. He was so close and you wanted more. 

“Come here, you can sit in my lap until I'm done working on this.” He spoke up, obviously aware that you didn’t want to let him go considering you still had a death grip on his sleeve. The older boy pulled your arm gently to get you to let him go before he grabbed both your hands and helped you onto your feet. Your knees threatened to buckle below you as you followed him to the chair.

This wasn’t something you normally would ever do. Of course, you found Heeseung handsome but he was always so calm and mature. You never dared hit on him because all his flirting seemed like just something he’d say to make someone feel good. You were sure he had someone he was seeing or that he wasn’t interested in you. But then again you felt that way about all the boys before Jungwon’s confession. Why would they be interested in you when they could have any girl they wanted? 

Heeseung guided you to the chair with care before he sat down. At first, you went to sit in his lap with your back pressed against his chest but he stopped you. 

“Turn around.” He said, gently turning you by the waist. His tone was somehow soft but firm at the same time. You knew he wouldn’t tolerate any pushback you gave him, so you obliged his demand. Then he guided you to staddle him and sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and adjusted your hips which resulted in a quiet grunt from the older boy. You couldn’t help but press your face into the crook of his neck. Normally you wouldn’t be this bold but you just wanted to be touching him. The smell of his cologne only fueled the heat you felt as you breathed against his neck.  

After a minute of listening to Heeseung clicking on his keyboard, he instead opted for filling the room with the sound of his humming. The vibrations against your face and the sound so much closer to you made you want more of him. Why was his singing making you feel this way? 

You felt worked up, and hot. You just wanted him to touch you. It was almost subconscious when you made the slightest shift against Heeseungs hips.

He responded with a quiet “mmm.”, not giving you the response you had hoped for. 

You pressed your lips against his neck, giving him a few small kisses. Maybe that would get him to react.

Again, there was almost no response from the older boy. Instead, he just continued to hum. 

Your pussy was starting to throb. This whole thing confused you. You didn’t understand why you were so ungodly horny. You didn’t understand why your body was reacting this way. You sat there, contemplating between letting the feeling overtake you or maintaining the image Heeseung had always seen you as. At most, the boys had only ever seen you making out with a guy or in your bathing suit, besides the other night, nothing of this level of intimacy had happened between any of you. You were sure they saw you as a bit modest and shy, which wasn't necessarily true, but that's all you ever showed them.

You pushed your forehead into Heeseung’s collarbone in defeat before using your hips to grind into him. 

“Oh, what’s this?” Heeseung teased as he stopped typing and placed his hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin where your tank top had risen on its own. 

You huffed a bit. You were desperate for him to do something at this point, but he wasn’t giving you anything. But you were too stubborn to blatantly give up your still somewhat respectable appearance. You did the same action again, except this time, you could feel that he was getting hard underneath you. 

“Darling, I’m not done yet.” he cooed, trying to act like your actions weren’t getting to him. 

You couldn’t help but let out the smallest little whine. You felt him smile, probably a cocky one. Nonetheless, he continued with his humming and typing while you continued slowly grinding against him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants begging for more friction. You obliged, tightening your arms around his shoulders to get more leverage as you pushed harder against him. 

This earned you another quiet grunt, followed by the sound of Heeseung’s laptop being shut suddenly. The noise caused you to jump. 

“You’re lucky y/n,” he said, his voice much darker than before. “You’re lucky that I'm going to go easy on you since I’m the first.” 

You felt his hand slide up your back and his fingers tangle into your hair before he tugged your head back suddenly. You squeaked, not expecting the sudden action nor the pain tingling across your scalp. 

He looked over your face. It was red, flushed with desire. Your eyes were glossy and round, begging him for more. Mouth slightly parted as you processed his actions. He smirked. 

“Look at you, so pretty and desperate for me already” Heeseung whispered, leaning into your ear “I should make you ride me right here like this.” 

His hot breath tickled against you and sent shivers down your spine. His sudden change in demeanor was intoxicating and his words made you only want more. 

Instead, Heeseung reached both hands under your ass and lifted you and himself from the chair before moving you to the couch. You clung onto him, not wanting to lose the feeling of his body against yours. He kept you on his lap, but this was more comfortable for the both of you than the swivel chair. 

You looked at him, he too looked a little bit flushed and needy, not that he would admit that. 

He reached up to grab the nape of your neck, and he finally gave you the attention you had wanted. He pulled you to him and kissed you. His kiss was much harder than the kiss at the party but it was still slow and drawn out. He kissed you passionately like he was savoring every single movement. 

His hands found your lower back again but slowly started to push up the fabric. Then they roamed over your sides leaving trails of tingling heat behind them. The kiss deepened as Heeseung’s tongue licked its way into your mouth and you started to rut against him again. 

“Fuck,’ He cursed as your clothed pussy rubbed against him. You could tell he was holding back because of the way his fingers pressed deeply into your sides, almost as if he was trying to ground himself. 

You pulled away from him, briefly taking over the lead to reach your fingers under the hem of his shirt and pull it off. You looked over him, his muscles and toned body surprising you. You hadn’t expected his body to be so nice. 

“Your turn.” He said after giving you a second to look him over. He lifted your shirt slowly over your head, keeping eye contact with you the entire time until he threw your shirt onto the floor.

Then his hands roamed the softness of your exposed body fingers gliding over your sides and under your breasts. He pulled you back down into the kiss before slowly kissing along your jawline and onto your neck. He sucked and bit on your neck not hard enough to leave any lasting marks but enough to elicit quiet whimpers from you. You ran your fingers through his hair earning a hum of satisfaction. As he continued to kiss your neck, you felt his hand travel up your back until it reached your bra, and in one smooth motion, he unclasped it. 

Heeseung pulled back from you, still maintaining eye contact with you. “Can I see you, darling?” He asked, not wanting to do anything that you were uncomfortable with. 

You nodded and let the bra fall off your shoulders and into your lap exposing your breasts. Your nipples hardened quickly at the change in temperature earning a smirk from the older boy who was already admiring you. 

“Wow y/n, you’re beautiful.” He whispered, reaching out to knead the soft mounds in his hands. You blushed, suddenly feeling shy and exposed. 

“Such a pretty girl.” He continued with his compliments, now taking your nipples in between his fingers. He played with them for a minute, rubbing them and pinching them causing you to shiver at the feeling. 

He looked over your features once more, and seeing that you maybe felt a little shy or nervous he started to hum again. This time humming quietly while he leaned down to suck on your nipples. The vibrations and the sound cause that dizzying hot feeling to overtake you again. He continued like this for a minute, swapping between his fingers and his mouth before he gently pushed you over to where you were lying back on the couch. 

You watched him as he stood up and pulled down his pants. Leaving him in just his underwear. His cock was hard and his underwear was wet where he had already begun to leak. He didn’t seem embarrassed by this and it only made you more aroused, knowing that he was just as worked up as you were. 

“Please.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

“Hmm? Please what darling?” Heeseung replied, leaning down over you and reaching his fingers into the band of your leggings. He kissed down your stomach as he slowly pulled your leggings down. He continued to hum between the kisses, the humming keeping you intoxicated and warm. 

He pulled your leggings off, leaving you exposed except for your panties. You were so hot, but also the tiniest bit cold since his body wasn’t touching yours anymore.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Heeseung asked, stepping away from you momentarily to the other side of the room. 

You couldn’t see where he had gone since he had disappeared behind your line of sight. 

You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking, your mind consumed with just wanting him to fuck you already. “Hee,” you whined, “want you.” The second part came out much quieter than his nickname.

“Oh, I know you do pretty. But you just need to wait a little while longer. There was a pause before he continued.”You know how much I love to make art right?” He asked, voice now coming back closer to you. 

You could only nod in response. 

“Close your eyes.” He demanded gently. You did what he asked, shifting your thighs back and forth to give yourself some sort of friction, the heat and need unbearable between your legs. 

“You’re so breathtaking y/n, that I can’t help but use you as a canvas.” He said, a smirk evident in his voice. 

It was hot. Incredibly hot as it trickled down your chest, in between your breasts, and towards your belly button. You yelped, surprised by the sudden pain that quickly turned into pleasure. 

And again, burning hot down your thighs, trickling over the edges towards the couch. You fidgeted, unable to hold back the surprised squeaks every time the feeling came. 

You opened your eyes to see Heeseung standing over you, the pine and cinnamon candle that he lit earlier in hand. The red wax left hot trails across your body. He tipped the candle again, watching your face as the wax trickled inwards on your thighs towards your heat. He enjoyed watching your face squeeze up in pain followed by a wave of pleasure. 

He continued this for a while, trickling hot wax across sensitive parts of your body while admiring you. By the time he was done, red wax that almost looked like a pattern of lightning or tree branches covered your body. 

“There, now that I’ve painted my beautiful canvas, it is also up to me to ruin it.” He said, voice laced with a darkness that you hadn’t anticipated. 

He placed the candle back on the table before inviting himself between your legs. He was quick to pull off your panties, not giving you a chance to be shy or nervous. It was obvious he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He admired your pussy. Using one finger to trace between your folds and tease your clit before running back down. 

You gasped, begging him for more without asking. 

He slipped one finger in with no resistance, and then a second. He was lacking the same patience he had had for hours beforehand. His eyes were full of a hungry lust. 

You mewled as his fingers pressed into you, the feeling relieving your aching heat just a little bit. “Ah– Heeseung,” you moaned quietly. 

He curled his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, reaching for the spot he knew would have you squirming under him. He leaned forward over you, took one hand, and wrapped it around your throat. He didn’t squeeze enough to really choke you, but enough to make sure your attention was solely focused on him. 

“Tell me what you want darling.” He said, speeding up his movements and purposefully hitting the sensitive spot over and over. His dark eyes peered into yours as he waited. 

You moaned as your body tensed up to his touch, both hands coming up to grab onto his arm that was still around your throat. You could barely catch your breath with the way your body was tensing up, hips arching off the couch, but you knew he wouldn’t give you any mercy until you gave him what he wanted. 

“Heeseung–ah– please,” you whined, little gasps coming out between each thrust of his fingers. 

“Ah, so pretty for me honey, but not enough.” he cooed, fingers continuing their assault. 

“Nngh– please Heeseung, please fuck me,” you begged, tears pricking at your eyes. 

He chuckled, slowing his fingers down and watching you as you panted. He released his hand from your neck before pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth to clean them off. 

“Good girl,” he praised, “I thought you'd never ask. All this time you’ve been trying to keep this side of you hidden from me. But look at how good you are, listening to me and doing what I ask. Do any of the other boys know you’re such a slut darling?” 

His words overwhelmed you. Sure you weren’t a virgin, but you’d never done anything with the boys. Gotten off to the idea of fucking them before sure, but that was a secret that you kept to yourself. You never wanted to risk harming them by getting caught or hurting the bond that you had with them. 

You shook your head, giving Heeseung an honest answer. 

“I’m so lucky, getting you all to myself like this, even if it's just for a little while.” Heeseung smiled, the dark glint of desire ever present in his eyes. He pulled away from you again, standing up to take off his underwear. You watched as his cock hit the skin of his stomach. You found yourself surprised once again, his cock was bigger than you anticipated. 

He pumped his length in his hand, running a finger over the head to smear the pre cum along his shaft. He looked so good like this.

With a sudden wave of desire and determination to earn more praise you sat up and replaced Heeseungs hands with your own. You stroked him a few times before leaning over and kitten-licking the top. You didn’t hear any reaction from Heeseung, so you decided to push it further. You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. When you sunk down on him you finally looked up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Fuck–ah fuck,” Heeseung groaned as you took him into your mouth. You had caught him off guard and were rewarded by his surprised reaction. It took him a second to compose himself, his eyes opening to meet yours. He watched you for a moment as you bobbed up and down on his cock slowly. You could tell he was savoring the view and the feeling of your mouth on him.

Then he reached forward to run his fingers through your hair, an affectionate action before his fingers tightened around the strands and pushed you farther down onto his length. 

“You’re so pretty like this y/n,” Heeseung cooed as he held you down on his cock, far enough down that you felt your throat starting to spasm around him.

You tried your best to not gag as he held you down. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him. His words were gentle, but his actions were stern and dominant. 

“You’re so good darling, showing me how badly you want to please me. But,” he paused before pushing you all the way down onto his length till your nose hit his stomach, “I don’t think you could handle it.” He whispered, before releasing you completely. 

You choked as you pulled off of him, followed by a gasp for air and a few tears running across your cheeks. You hadn't been prepared to deep-throat him like that, but the action turned you on tremendously. How his words were so sweet but his actions only made you want to egg him on. To see how rough he would get with you. 

Heeseung interrupted your thoughts as he leaned over to kiss your forehead before laying you back on the couch. He got on top of you and your heat clenched around nothing as you felt his cock slide against you. 

“I’ve been wanting this for a long time y/n,’ Heeseung whispered into your neck as you felt him reach down. He ran his cock up and down your folds, sliding easily because of how wet you were. 

You gasped at the feelings before reaching up to grab onto his shoulders. 

He teased you like this for a moment, watching you carefully in between leaving kisses on your neck and jaw. 

“Tell me you want me darling,” Heeseung urged, pushing the tip against your entrance. 

“God– please Heeseung, I want you… so bad Hee,” you begged, raising your hips in an effort to coax him into you. 

With your consent, the older boy groaned, slowly pushing himself into you. He rested a hand on your cheek as he did so, watching carefully for any indication of pain. 

You leaned your head back, mouth parted in a silent moan as he bottomed out before slowly pulling back out and repeating. 

He continued to fuck you slowly, leaning down to kiss you passionately as he thrust into you. Your fingers entangled into his hair, tugging gently which earned you a moan from Heeseung between kisses. Your tongues fought for dominance, and occasionally Heeseung took your bottom lip in between his teeth. 

After a minute of this, Heeseung dipped his head back into your neck before speeding up his thrusts. He fucked into you faster and harder and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His thrusts brought out continuous strings of lewd moans from you. 

You opened your eyes in surprise when you felt Heeseungs hand press over your mouth. “Your noises are so beautiful darling, and I so badly want to hear them. In fact, I wish all the boys could hear you moaning for me baby. I wish everyone in this building knew who you belonged to tonight,” he paused, taking a moment to peer into your eyes. “But I can’t have you letting the whole building know what we are doing in here hmm? That might get me in a bit of trouble.” He finished his thought with a quick raise of his eyebrow. 

You could only nod in response as he continued his motions, a spring of tension coiling in your stomach with every thrust. 

With his hand still over your mouth, you could only listen to the sound of his panting and quiet grunts. His voice was still beautiful even in this situation. 

“Oh, by the way,” Heeseung spoke again suddenly, “I’m a siren.” 

He removed his hand from your mouth and instead moved to pull your legs up to your chest so he could get a deeper angle. Gasps and whines left you in quick succession, this position only tightening the coil in your stomach further. 

You were having trouble processing what Heeseung had just said to you and of course it was hard to believe any of what Jungwon had said was real but the new information gave you clarity on what made you feel so aroused tonight. Heeseung’s voice. It intoxicated you and consumed you and it was all at Heeseung’s will. 

You moaned quietly at the idea of this. How he could get you so worked up with just his voice. 

After a moment, Heeseung reached down in between the two of you and his fingers found your clit. He rubbed small circles as he continued to fuck into you harshly. 

You dug your nails into his back and began to tremble from the overwhelming stimulation. You knew it wouldn’t take you that long to cum considering how worked up you had been. Heeseung knew this too. 

“You know what that means?” He asked, sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead slightly. 

You shook your head, giving him a curious look in response. 

“It means,” He smirked. “From now on, every time you hear my voice. You’ll be reminded of this moment. You’ll be reminded of how good I made you feel, and how desperate you were for me. How you trembled underneath my fingers darling.” 

The idea of this sent you into a spiral of arousal, you heard Heeseung singing all the time. He practically never stopped singing. How would you ever be able to sit in on any of their practices or concerts? Heat rushed to your core at the images and scenarios in your head. You whimpered, a small pathetic noise of desperation. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned as his fingers and thrusts continued. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the sound of you calling his name obviously getting to him. 

You couldn’t hold back much longer and you knew he couldn’t either. His thrusts were becoming a bit sloppy and rushed. 

His eyes met yours again, neither of you saying anything for a moment before you spoke up. Your orgasm was approaching quickly now. 

“Heeseung, please, please don’t stop.” You begged, your head rolling back again as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the feeling of him fucking you. 

He picked up speed with determination and he leaned down once more kissing the side of your jaw and then your ear. 

“You’re so pretty y/n, I know you want to cum for me.” He said, his voice though not singing, sent that dizzy wave of overwhelming arousal over you again. 

“Hee—hee, please.” You cried as you were thrown desperately toward the edge, the coil so tight you could barely breathe. 

“Cum for me. Cum nice and hard for me darling. Show me how good you feel.” He all but commanded into your ear, his thrusts and fingers maintaining a slower but consistent speed and motion. 

And you did. Unsure if it was from his voice or at your own will but you came hard. You came so hard that no sound escaped your lips, you were breathless, air stolen by the waves of pleasure as they cascaded over you. Heeseung fucked you through your orgasm and kept fucking you until you shook from overstimulation. Once he finally pulled his hand away from between you he was able to focus on his own climax. 

His pace quickened, and your body still clenched around him, overstimulation causing tears to brim at your eyes. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned, and it was lewd. You sounded almost straight from a porno and that was all he needed. 

“Fuck—,” he cursed, surprised by what you had just done. His thrusts became uneven and frantic before he pulled out and came over your stomach. His quiet groans alone were almost enough to get you fired up again. 

Your head was floaty as you watched him come down from his own high. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed happily. Then his eyes met yours and he looked so much different than before. He looked at you endearingly and lovingly, any sadistic dominance gone from his eyes. 

He was quick to get up, grab tissues, and wipe you off. You looked down and saw the wax that still covered your body. That was going to be a pain to clean up but it was so worth it. 

Heeseung helped you back into your clothes before he got back into his own clothes and settled back onto the couch sitting beside you. 

There was now somewhat of an awkward silence as you didn’t know what to expect next. You honestly just anticipated that you would go home from here and it would be just like a one-night stand of sorts. 

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, a slight twinge of disappointment at the ideas your head was creating. 

Heeseung grabbed your hand and laced his fingers in between yours. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry. For being so quiet that is.” He said, obviously having sensed your anxiety. “I’m just honestly speechless. You’re so beautiful and I feel lucky to know you and get to experience and share a friendship and… this…with you.” His other hand motioned vaguely not sure what to consider your relationship at this moment in time. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his words and nod in agreement. 

The older boy took your hand and pulled you up. He grabbed your cardigan and helped you slip it on before leading you to the door and turning off the lights. 

“Let’s go.” He said, hand still entangled in yours. 

He grabbed a sweatshirt from a hook by the door and slipped it on pulling up the hood over his head. Then he pulled out two black masks from the pocket and handed one to you before putting on the other one. He looked over to you, his eyes showing a big smile.

“Where are we going?” You asked, having enough comprehension skills to realize that he was taking you somewhere and that’s why you both needed to have your identities covered a bit. 

“Home of course,” Heeseung replied, pulling you out the door and closing it behind him. He led you towards the elevator. 

“Oh—, Home?” You questioned. It wasn’t often that you went over to the dorms so late at night. Did he mean back to your place? The boys never came over to your place either and it definitely wasn’t in good shape for any guests.

“Mhmm.” He replied as the elevator doors closed. He was still holding your hand tightly, almost as if he was worried you might not want to come with him. 

Truth be told, you were still feeling the post orgasm high and you didn’t really care where you went right now as long as it was with him.

He continued leading you outside of the building and when you made it outside he turned to head towards the dorms. 

“The dorms?” You questioned. Obviously, you knew this was the likely answer but it somehow still surprised you. 

“Yep!” Heeseung replied, not giving you anything more than short answers that way you couldn’t argue or try to change his mind. 

“But Heeseung, uhm… why?” You asked. It was late, and coming over just to hang out wasn’t really the best idea. You’d need to leave soon before you got too sleepy. 

He chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours for a moment. “I’m not going to just let you go home after that y/n. I’m not a fuck boy.” 

“Well, I didn’t say that.” You replied, whacking him on the shoulder with your free hand. He laughed again and you wished you could see his smile instead of the mask. 

The rest of the short walk was quiet except for the various sounds of isolated cars or chit-chat of other people walking around. The city truly never slept around here. 

Heeseung unlocked the door when you arrived, finally releasing your hand before pushing open the door. The dorm was quiet except for the TV in the living room which was playing some sort of anime. You slipped off your shoes and cardigan welcoming the comforting warmth of the dorm. 

Heeseung went into the kitchen to grab you both some water. As you waited you noticed that Jake had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled and walked over to turn off the lamp that was shining in his face. 

When you turned back around you jumped, surprised to be somewhat face to face with Jungwon. He was wearing a tank top and sweatpants. His muscular arms caught you a bit off guard as he normally never wore exposing clothes like that. 

“J-Jungwon!” You whispered, trying not to wake up Jake. 

“What are you doing here so late?” Jungwon asked, his brows furrowed a bit. 

“Oh- I was just-,” you stammered.

Obviously, you weren’t going to tell Jungwon what you had been doing. But coming up with something else was impossible, your brain wasn’t awake enough to come up with anything quick enough. 

“She came with me,” Heeseung spoke suddenly from behind you once again causing you to jump. 

Jungwon looked at Heeseung, and then to you, and then back to Heeseung. Then Jungwon looked back at you and your skin prickled as you watched him eye you from top to bottom. The look in his eyes changed, but to what you couldn’t tell. His eyes stopped on your chest briefly before he nodded and his facial expression went back to normal. You flushed, Jungwon didn’t normally steal glances at you so obviously like that. 

“Ah,” he paused his tone unreadable, “That’s good. I was worried about you y/n, showing up late like this.” 

“Don’t worry,” Heeseung replied, “She’s safe with me Jungwon.” 

Jungwon nodded again before walking away and into the kitchen himself. Heeseung handed you a glass of water before he took your hand again and pulled to towards his bedroom. 

You were surprised, however, when Heeseung stopped and pulled you into the bathroom. 

“I’ll grab you some clothes of mine you can wear to sleep in. I can shower with you if you want, or you can shower by yourself if you’d be more comfortable,” he said before turning to head towards his bedroom, “Oh, and use whatever shampoo or body wash you want, everyone has different tastes so there’s a few to choose from.” 

You nodded and closed the door behind him. Processing everything that was going on was overwhelming but the idea of staying in the dorm made you feel a little giddy inside. You took a few sips from the glass of water before sitting it down on the counter. 

Heeseung’s knock brought you out of your thoughts as he slowly opened the door. In his hand were some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He smiled at you before setting them down on the counter beside the glass of water.

“Do you want me to shower with you?” He asked. Heeseung’s eyes also trailed your bare skin. “You might need some help getting all that off.” He continued pointing to your chest. 

You looked down and suddenly your face started to burn. How the fuck did you forget the wax! It’s not that Jungwon was looking at your tits but instead, he was looking at the wax that covered your chest and cleavage in tiny trails. 

You looked back at Heeseung, the mischievous look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking about right now. But it was too late now, there was nothing you could do about it. 

“I think that would be nice actually. Thank you, Hee.” You replied. 

Heeseung was happy to help. He helped you undress and got the water going for you so you could get in and enjoy it for a moment while he brushed his teeth and undressed himself. 

You let the warm water trail down your body washing away any other stress and anxiety you had about the situation. 

When Heeseung joined you couldn’t help but admire him once more. The way his bronze skin glistened in the water as it cascaded over him. The older boy took your hand and placed it on his chest.

“Don’t be afraid.” He said quietly. You tilted your head confused but when you looked up and met his eyes you saw they were now bright blue with small slits in them. The blue color was so bright it reminded you of glaciers as they floated in the ocean. His skin twitched under your fingertips as small silvery blue scales pushed through his skin in various places the water was hitting. 

“Oh—wow.” You responded, shocked by what you were seeing. 

You looked up again and saw small spikey fins that had grown out from the tips his ears. Everything else about him stayed the same. 

“Heeseung. You’re stunning.” You said, blown away by what you were seeing. When he released your hand you noticed that his fingers had become webbed too, obviously to help him swim if he was in the water. 

He smiled. “You’re not scared right?” 

“No not at all just… do you... have a tail fin?” You questioned, giving him an innocent but curious look. 

The older boy laughed. “Of course I do. I can just control it better than my scales and fins. It would be quite awkward if I just grew a tail and fell over right now wouldn’t it?” He responded, chuckling again at the image he had created in his head. 

You laughed with him at the scenario. 

Then he helped you wash and made sure to get all of the wax off your body before also helping you wash your hair. You allowed yourself to be pampered by him even just briefly. You wondered if you’d ever get to see his tail and watch him swim. 

After you both finished washing, Heeseung helped you towel dry your hair and get into his clothes before he took you along into his bedroom.

You chuckled as you watched the older boy flop onto the bed and tuck himself under the covers. 

“Well,  come here darling.” He said, patting the bed beside him and holding up the covers for you to get in. 

You got into the bed with him and he opened his arms for you to get comfortable and lay on his chest. You were surprised by how quickly his siren features disappeared after getting out of the water and drying off. It was silent for a moment besides the sound of his heartbeat in your ear

“Are you sure this is okay?” You said, breaking the silence. 

“What? Cuddling with me?” He questioned you. 

“Well, just all of it.” You replied anxiously. 

His arms tightened around you. 

“Don’t worry to much y/n. Do what makes you happiest and we will all be happy. You should know that I will— well, we all will do everything in our power to keep you happy.” He replied, his tone a lot more serious now. You could tell he was being genuine. 

You nodded, before leaning up to give Heeseung a kiss. Even though it was dark you could tell he was blushing by your sudden action. 

When you laid back on his chest, he began to hum once again. Except this time, instead of arousal you just felt warm and fuzzy. His humming enveloped you in a soft blanket of safety and comfort. You felt loved and appreciated and beautiful in his arms, and you weren’t sure you’d ever want to leave them. 

The warm cozy feeling Heeseung was creating for you was quick to whisk you to sleep but before you drifted off you wondered briefly how you had gotten so lucky to be sought after by this group of boys. You wondered if this was a dream and if you’d wake up soon. You wondered if you’d figure out what monsters the other boys were, and secretly you hoped you’d find out just like you did with Heeseung tonight. 

☾ author note: thank you for reading! this chapter is arguably the tamest out of them all so please look forward to whats to come next! can you guess who is what monster?

chapter two

chapter directory

[purple-obsidian]

appearances (18+, dick grayson x fem reader) wc 6.7k

⭓ this post contains sexual content and is not suitable for minors. special shoutout to @janybabyy for helping me edit this monstrosity. reader is a member of the titans, afab, uses she/her pronouns, and has an established friendship with dick.

Dick's arm is draped around your waist, holding your body close while his enchanting laughter rings in your ear, reacting to a story being told by the other couple sharing the elevator.

"I'm telling the truth! Swear on my life, he actually said that!" The man across from you says, grinning and chuckling. A soft ding grabs your attention, and you clear your throat, looking up at Dick with a soft smile.

"Well, this is our floor. We'll see you in the morning!" You promise, letting Dick pick up your suitcase for you and lead the way. You make your way down the hallway, reading the room numbers as you get closer to the one the receptionist scribbled on your key card. You feel exhausted, and after a long day of pretending to be a happy couple with your teammate, you're happy that it's finally time to rest. You retrieve the room key from your pocket when you finally reach your door, and open it wide for Dick so he can carry your bags in.

You flick the light switch on, taking in the cheap carpeting, generic artwork, and a single queen bed centered on the far wall. "Um... Dick?"

"Hm?" He turns to you, looking just as tired as you feel, no longer fronting as an excited newly-wed. "What is it?"

"Didn't you request a room with two beds?"

His bright blue eyes dart to the singular bed, shoulders slumping in defeat when he realizes there was a mix up in your reservation. "Shit. Lemme call the front desk."

"They're probably full," you comment, letting yourself fall into one of the chairs by the window, sinking down with a tired sigh and kicking off your heels, "Between the convention and the concert this weekend, I'll be shocked if they have any other rooms free."

Dick ignores you, setting down your luggage and walking over to the corded phone on the bedside table. He picks up the receiver, punches the button for guest services, and waits patiently for them to answer. You take a deep breath, relaxing and letting your mind wander as he speaks with the operator, who confirms that there are no more rooms available.

Dick hangs up the phone with a grumble, glancing behind him to look at you.

"Told you so." You chide, a playful grin on your lips.

"I'm sorry," Dick plops himself down on the side of the bed and groans. "There isn't even a pull-out couch."

"We'll be fine," You tell him dismissively, yawning and stretching your hands over your head, "It's only a few nights."

"I can sleep on the floor if you'd be more comfortable that way," He offers, rubbing his eyes.

"As long as you keep your hands to yourself, we'll be fine."

The first night you share a bed, Dick does keep his hands to himself. You're both so exhausted that you fall into a deep sleep almost immediately, making your proximity less awkward. You toss and turn here and there, but otherwise, the night goes on without issue.

The second night is another story.

After another long day of working undercover as newlyweds attending a couples conference, you and Dick are at each other's throats over a disagreement regarding the innocence of the man leading it. You both act your part all day. You kiss his cheek when others are looking. Dick makes an pointed effort to be handsy, ensuring he's touching you in some way whenever appropriate. But once you're in the privacy of the hotel room, the masks come down, and you are at each other's throats, arguing in hushed tones and bickering over what you observed today.

"Why the fuck did you invite me along on this mission if you didn't want my opinion?" You ask harshly, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace as you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to remove it so you can shower.

"I couldn't have come alone! It would have been suspicious, and Donna was busy, so you were my only option!"

"Gee, thanks Dick. That makes me feel real good about myself." You hiss, fumbling again with the tiny clasp, "Why couldn't you bring Wally?"

"You know our suspect is homophobic, if I showed up with a man as my partner there's no way I'd be able to get close enough to him!" Dick notices you struggling with your necklace. He sighs, and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, "Need some help with that?"

"Fuck off," You mumble dismissively, giving up your efforts, "Screw it, I'll just leave it on."

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, throwing it angrily to the ground. Dick watches, eyes widening a little, unable to stop himself from checking you out and admiring the lacy bra you're wearing, his anger diffusing.

"You mind? I need to shower, give me some privacy," You snap, waving your hand at him dismissively.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Dick growls, coming up behind you, sandwiching your body between him and the vanity, “Hold still.”

You huff, but relax and accept his help remove the chain. His hands are warm against your neck, quickly unclasping the lock and setting the necklace down next to you. You choose to ignore the way his eyes wander, admiring your reflection in the mirror.

“Thanks,” You grumble, your annoyance quickly subsiding, but you keep your eyes narrowed at him.

Maybe you are a bit stubborn.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up, okay? I gotta shower too,” He reminds you before leaving the bathrrom, stealing one last glance at your half naked body and closing the door behind him.

Feeling bitter, you take your time with an extra long, extra hot shower, shaving your legs, exfoliating, deep conditioning your hair, not caring if you’re being petty. You linger, too, lotioning your whole body and applying your hair products, not missing a single step in your routine.

When you finally exit the steamy bathroom, Dick is sitting at the small desk in your room, doing something on his laptop. You walk out in your robe, smoothing your freshly washed hair and making your way over to your suitcase.

“Took you long enough,” Dick comments, giving you a pointed side-eye.

“Sorry,” You mumble, rummaging around for your sleep clothes, “All yours now.”

Waiting until he finishes up and locks himself in the bathroom, you quickly change and crawl into your side of the bed, cozying up to the pillow that smells faintly of bleach. You relax, listening to the muffled sound of running water coming from the bathroom. He's quick enough that you're still awake when he's done. Dick exits the bathroom, hair dripping wet, wearing nothing but his boxers.

"You used all the hot water."

You peek an eye open to glare at him, resenting his accusation, "It's a hotel, Dick. It's going to take a lot more than my twenty minute shower to make the whole building run out of hot water. Maybe you just don't know how to work the faucet."

You notice him shivering, and a pang of guilt eats away at you. But you stand by what you said.

"You took at least 30 minutes. And are you kidding me? You think I'm the type of guy that can't figure out a faucet?"

"Well, no, before this little trip of ours, I didn't think that. But seeing as you can't figure out our guy is guilty when the evidence is laid out in front of you like Thanksgiving dinner, my opinion on your intelligence might be changing."

He grinds his teeth, popping his jaw and clenching his fists at his side until his knuckles crack, "Shoulda brought Wally."

You lift your head so you can glare at him with both eyes, but Dick is already grabbing the comforter and sheet to yank them off the bed, leaving you shivering and exposed.

"Whatthefuck?!" You shriek, pulling your knees to your chest reflexively at the rush of cold air.

Dick jumps onto the bed, pulling the blankets over both of you, and with little effort he pulls your body against his, "I'm fucking freezing." He hisses through gritted teeth, "And I'm about to make it your problem.”

The chill radiating off of his stone-cold chest and body quickly seeps through the thin cotton of your t-shirt and sleep shorts. Flinching, you shiver and claw at the edge of the bed to pull yourself away from him. "Dick! G-Get off of me! This isn't f-funny!" You stammer in desperation.

"No, it isn't."

You long for the satisfaction of smacking the smirk off of him. You can't even see his face since your back is to him, but when you hear his taunting, you just know the cocky bastard is smiling. His strong, cold arms force your back to go flush with his chest again as he wrestles with you, utilizing his jiu-jitsu skills to pin you under him and prevent you from escaping his grasp.

"GET. OFF!!" You yell again.

Dick promptly slaps his right hand over your mouth, bringing his lips to your ear and shushing you. "Remember, we're in a hotel. People could hear you if you screamed. Last thing we need to do is blow our cover."

You groan and struggle to shake your head free of his hand, which is fruitless, but Dick takes pity on you and removes his hand after watching you struggle for a moment.

"This is assault, you know," You growl at him angrily, "You're h-holding me against my will."

"Oh please, I've done worse to you during training. You're fine. Just let me hold you for a minute until I can warm up. You owe me that much," Dick holds you closer to him, and he isn't lying, He really is as cold as an ice cube. Keeping you pinned against the bed, he holds you, fearful that you'll shy away and refuse to share your body heat. But you know when you're beat. The soft spot you have for him trumps your annoyance, and you accept your fate.

You really didn't mean to make him suffer, you just took a tad longer washing yourself than normal. Could it really be your fault that there was no hot water? You take these next few minutes of discomfort to ponder the specifics of hotel plumbing, doing anything to distract yourself from the chill.

Dick notices the subtle shift as you try to relax your body and regulate your breathing. There's something in the way you feel, your body going from tense and combative to calm and still under him, that makes his heartbeat stay elevated, even after he finally starts to warm up.

'She trusts me.' He thinks to himself, 'Or at least, she knows when to give up.'

Several minutes pass by, neither of you asleep, but not speaking. Only the sounds of your breathing are audible in the stillness of the hotel room. Dick starts to feel guilty, now that his body temperature is back to normal, and lifts himself off of you to lay on his back.

"I'm sorry," He says quietly, brows furrowed in thought, "I shouldn't have done that."

Now it's your turn to seek body heat. You let out an involuntary whimper, so soft that you're hoping Dick didn't hear it. "Wait," Your hand finds his chest in the dark, and you pull yourself up so your head is laying directly over his heart, "You might be all warmed up, but I'm still cold."

Your feet, which weren't touching him before, are particularly chilly, so you take this opportunity to press them against his bare leg. Dick tenses in response, but he doesn't push you off of him.

"I deserve this," He whispers in a tone of defeat.

"You're so dramatic," You whisper back.

"And you're more stubborn than the Bat."

"Ouch."

"Am I wrong?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Exactly," He says with a hint of pride.

"Just shut up and warm up, I'm tired," You try to sound firm, but despite your best efforts, your voice sounds sleepy and content.

"You know, maybe I should keep a hold of you all night, to stop you from tossing and turning."

"M'not that bad," You grumble, "You'll survive."

But you soon fall asleep on his chest. Your breathing gets slower and deeper, and you finally relax into a pleasant slumber. Dick isn't far behind you. He is scared to admit to himself how good it feels to have you in his arms. He chalks it up to the fact that he's been pretending to be your husband since you got here, denying anything deeper, and lets his mind shut down and rest, falling asleep to the soft sound of your breathing.

Several hours later, you wake with a start, eyes popping open as you suck in a deep breath. You were having a bizarre dream, but thankfully your less-than-graceful awakening hasn’t seemed to of bothered your teammate, who you realize has shifted in the night. He’s now spooning you, his arm around your waist and his face nuzzled against your neck.

A heat creeps into your cheeks as you hazily register the intimacy of the position you’re in. You carefully attempt to untangle yourself from him, but you quickly realize your arm is asleep, and you curse to yourself as the uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation prickle your nerves.

You wiggle your arm, the blood flow slowly returning, not noticing how your movement is making your ass bump against the man behind you.

Dick’s eyes flutter open, awakened by the soft swaying of your body as you struggle to get your arm functioning like normal. He mutters your name groggily, and you curse yourself for waking him.

"Sorry, Dick. I'm warm now, you can let go of me," You say softly.

In his half-asleep state, Dick exhales an audible groan, moving his arm so he can stretch out. You think you're free, but he quickly replaces it back over your waist before he pulls you snug against his body. "Could we stay like this? Feels nice." His voice is hoarse and gravely from sleep, which triggers a dangerous shift in your thoughts. His strong arms feel good wrapped around you. He smells good. You're comfortable, now that your arm is awake, and you notice something poking at your lower back when he pulls you even closer to him.

The heat you felt in your cheeks travels down to pool in your belly, and you resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the ache you feel.

'Stop it. This won't end well. He's hot, but he's your friend. Just your friend...'

You capture your lip between your bottom teeth and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, we can stay like this," You finally say, "But you need to tell your little friend to calm down."

"Hm?" Dick perks up at your comment, trying to make sense of what you said while his brain is still not fully awake.

"You're hard. It's distracting."

"Woah, hey. Who are you calling little? That's a low blow, you wouldn't even have any way of knowing that."

"I can feel you right now Dick. S'gross. We can cuddle if you want but I don't want your hard-on stabbing me while-"

"This feel little to you?" He interrupts, shifting you higher so he can grind his boner against your ass, with only his boxers and your silky sleep shorts separating you.

It doesn't. Now that he's doing it intentionally, you realize how much he's packing down there, which makes you stammer a little as you squirm against him, trying to quell the arousal building in your abdomen. "Jeez- okay, point taken. Now quit it," You chide, hoping you sound firm.

"Sure you want me to quit?" He's fully awake now. You can tell by the confidence in his tone when he taunts you, "Something tells me you're enjoying this. I've seen the way you've been looking at me."

His lips are merely an inch from your ear as he whispers to you, making your heart beat faster in your chest and your brain starts to panic. "Of course I've been looking at you differently. We're pretending to be a couple. We're undercover. It's called acting."

"Can I tell you a secret?" His hand starts to play with the hem of your shirt, rough hands barely brushing the small bit of exposed skin as the fabric bunches up on your waist.

"W-what?" You ask, briefly wondering if you're dreaming.

"Donna wasn't busy," He murmurs, running the tip of his nose up and down your neck slowly as he tries to entice you. "I wanted you here with me."

"That's a lie," You chide back without much thought. You know Dick and Donna are best friends, there's no way he would choose you over her for a mission like this, right?

Right?

He ignores your accusation like he didn't hear it. "You really want me to stop?" Dick presses his hand against your stomach, caressing your soft skin and nudging his nose against the shell of your ear, his breath fanning over your neck and making you shiver. "Tell me to fuck off and I'll let you have the bed to yourself."

"I... I mean...y-you don't need to, I don't want... don't sleep on the floor, please."

"Because you like this? Don't you?" His hand sneaks further up your torso, until his fingertips brush against the underside of your breast. "Don't tell me these past few days haven't felt right to you. I barely feel like I've had to act."

"Are you kidding? We've been bickering every moment we're alone!" You argue back. You're grateful for the dark, which hides how wide your eyes are from how he's touching you.

"Don't mean about the mission. I meant you and me. Having you on my arm. Calling you mine. The way you kiss me- I wish you'd kiss me like that when we're alone, instead of fighting," He admits, tentatively grinding his hips into your ass as he speaks. "You looked so pretty in that dress, earlier. That color looks amazing on you."

This is a lot for you to process. Sure, Dick is attractive. You'd be stupid to deny it. But he's your friend, has been for a while. You work together, and you've tried to not let your mind go down that path, not wanting to mess up the opportunity of a lifetime, to be a hero and work alongside him and the other Titans. But when he talks about how right these past couple days have felt, you have a hard time denying it. Yeah, you were acting, but it did come easy. His smile is heart-warming. His touch feels safe. And having him wait on you hand and foot has made you feel pretty special, even if you were under the impression that it was all performative.

Dick pauses his movements when you take a while to respond to him, second-guessing himself. He says your name softly, before asking, "Am I making you uncomfortable? Do you want me to stop?"

The answer is no.

So why is it so hard to say out loud?

Nervous, Dick shifts away from you and retracts his hand, guiding you onto your back so he can see you properly. The look of uncertainty on him is rare. The man's confidence is nearly impenetrable, but now he's got a sinking feeling in his stomach, worried that he just crossed a line that you didn't want him to cross.

"Dick..." You mutter, shifting around to help him so you're face-to-face. His features are barely visible, illuminated only by the soft red glow of the digital clock on the bedside table. But you don't need the light to see him. His face is permanently etched into your mind, handsome and chiseled, your brain filling in the gaps left by the darkness.

You're running out of time. You can make out his expression fall, sense the change in energy each moment you leave him hanging. Deciding to take the future implications out of the picture, like how it will affect your dynamic on the team, how awkward this might make things in the future- you ignore all of that, and ask yourself, 'Do I want to sleep with him? Right Now? In this moment?'

The vigilante's confidence returns when you finally lean in to capture his mouth in a kiss. You bump your nose against his, and he chuckles, relieved as his hand finds your cheek to guide your mouth to his again.

The feeling is surreal, kissing him. You feel like you knew him pretty well before this trip. You know how he likes his tea. You know his favorite places, and understand his subtle, snarky humor. You're even familiar with his scent, after many missions and even more training sessions, physical contact is not anything new between the two of you.

His taste is new. His lips are foreign, but gentle, skilled, like he knows exactly what he's doing when his kisses you, relishing in the feeling, slow and sensual as his tongue slides across your bottom lip, teasing you until your part your lips and allow him deeper. Dick pulls you on top of him, relaxing on his back, his hands holding you by the waist, itching to trail lower and grip your plush ass that's been teasing him all night.

The needy almost-moan that escapes his throat as he exhales is new, too. You've heard him express pain and discomfort, you know what sounds he makes when he's hurt, recognize his brash grunts while fighting, able to judge how badly he's hurt by the sounds he makes. But the noises he's making now aren't like those. They seem more raw, more intense, and he's doing a good job of making you swoon.

His taste, his noises, being the object of his desire, this is all new territory. The surreal feeling doesn't go away, even as his kisses get more intense and his hands start to wander. You're straddling him, forearms resting against his chest while you two make out. He laps at your mouth, tongue against yours, encouraged by every little sigh and broken whimper that you make.

You're grateful for the darkness. It helps quell your insecurities, and you push the doubts about your decision far away. With your hands against his bare chest, you're able to feel his heart beat, strong and even, solidifying the feeling of closeness between you.

"You're so soft," He whispers between greedy kisses. His fingertips caress the exposed skin of your lower back, becoming increasingly more annoyed by the clothing that's keeping your skin from him.

A brief feeling of guilt plagues your mind, knowing your skin is extra soft because of the long shower you took earlier, with the goal of annoying him. Who knew that taking the time to exfoliate and use lotion would end up doing the opposite, spurring him on, making your skin that much more enticing.

You sink your hips down, rubbing yourself against the tent in his boxers. "You're so hard." You say back to him. You meant to sound teasing, but his all-encompassing kisses have you breathless and panting.

Dick chuckles at you, also breathless, finally letting his hands grip the silky material of your sleep shorts, squeezing and massaging your ass. You push yourself up a bit to look down at him. The red numbers of the alarm clock cast an eerie glow over the side of his face, the other half dark in shadow. But you still detect the obvious lust in his gaze. He squeezes you, grabby hands slipping under your shorts to feel you better and force your clothed cunt to grind against his throbbing erection.

"You have no idea how hot you are," He blurts out, bucking his hips up to drive the point home. "You in that dress this morning, fuck, if you were mine for real... I wouldn't have let you leave this room before fucking you senseless in it."

His low, urgent tone, gravely and strained, sends a jolt of heat to your cunt, your arousal soaking through your underwear. Hearing him, Dick Grayson, NIghtwing, say such things about you? And you can tell he means it. He's a good liar, but you know him well enough by know to tell he's being sincere. You open your mouth, unsure what to say, but he's already rambling on, hands traveling from your ass back up to your waist, easing your shirt up and over your head, careful not to mess up your hair.

"The neckline is what did it, I think," he continues. His pupils dilate when he drinks you in, straining to see as much of you as possible. You're sitting up now, shuddering when his warm hands cup your breasts, handling them like you're made of glass. "I couldn't stop staring. I wasn't the only one, either."

"Dick-"

"I've been thinking about this ever since. All evening. Been going crazy." His thumbs brush over your nipples, which are already hard from the arousal you feel building inside. "Got me all worked up. Like a teenager with a crush."

You bring your hands to his, resting over them as he fondles your chest. The gentle squeeze you offer encourages him to keep going, moving your hips to rub against him, searching for some friction to satisfy your need.

"I doubt the dress did all that," You challenge.

"Yet here we are."

"You pleased with yourself?" You yelp as soon as the question leaves your mouth. Dick chose that moment to pinch your hardened buds between his thumb and pointer fingers, squeezing and toying with them, moving his hips against you when your grinding falters.

"Yeah, I am."

Dick removes his hands from your chest to pull you flush against him, grabbing your left leg to help flip you over so you're on your back, settling on his knees between your legs. This shift in control has your mind racing, still wondering if this is all just a dream. If it is, you aren't ready to wake up.

Dick's sitting straight up, smirking down at you, reaching for your ankle. He guides your leg up so your foot is next to his head, and places a slow, wet kiss against your ankle bone.

"Let's get these off of you." He takes your other leg, lifting it in the same manner, so he's able to remove your shorts. You raise your hips to help, allowing him to take your remaining clothes off and toss them to the other end of the bed. He kisses the same spot on your other ankle and rests your legs on either side of his head while his strong hands caress your calves. It almost feels like he's showing you a new martial arts technique, the way he moves and is so at ease manipulating your body. You're used to it, to humbling yourself around him and letting him share his skills, never too proud to learn from a friend and mentor. You swear you've actually been in a very similar position with him before, too, just with more clothing. And also, several spectators.

His warm, fervent kisses continue down towards your knee, slowly savoring every inch of skin he can reach, and adjusting his position once he cannot. Your chest rises and falls quickly in anticipation, nervous but excited to see this new side of him.

This isn't something you were expecting to happen this trip.

You stifle a needy moan when he reaches your inner thighs. Muscular body now flush against the bed, he licks at the sensitive skin there, just inches from your pussy that's dripping for him, aching for attention.

"H-Holy shit..." You curse, moving your hips to try and get his mouth closer to where you need him most. If him kissing your leg feels this sensuous, you're weak over the idea of having his mouth on your core.

Dick hums in satisfaction at how worked up you're getting. Peeling his lips away from the soft skin of your thigh, he purses his lips into a small 'o' to blow a breath over your slick, feverish skin.

You're mortified at the loud whine that departs your lips, shivering in both chill and embarrassment. Your legs tense, squeezing together reflexively around his head.

Dick mutters your name, cursing under his breath at your reaction. He carefully pries your legs apart again, holding them in place, kissing your inner thigh again.

"Huh. You liked that?"

"Please, Dick, you're teasing me."

You feel his lips curve into a smile against you, leaving your thigh and licking a slow, long stripe along your pussy, catching some of your slick on his tongue. Your breathing hitches, eyes closing again, moaning his name with your hands on either side of your head gripping the pillow.

The tip of his nose nudges against your clit before he kisses you there, the same way he was kissing your mouth a minute earlier. Slow at first, building up to using more tongue, testing different movements until he feels your legs quiver. The heat you felt before has grown to a roaring fire, your lower body sensitized from his attention and aching for more.

His tongue flicks over your sensitive nub over and over in a steady rhythm. It becomes harder and harder not to wiggle against him. He's still keeping you in place, but his grip isn't harsh, at least not until he finds just the right angle. Your hips jerk almost violently when he presses his skilled tongue harder against your core, your hands flying to his head to grip his hair. "Oh fuck... please... shit shit sh....." You tremble, words fading away to nothing while your teammate keeps eating your cunt like its his favorite dessert.

Muffled hums and moans are mingled with your sighs and gasps. His tongue dips down to lap languidly at your entrance. You feel painfully empty at this point, ignoring the bewilderment you feel deep down about how easily Dick has reduced you to a whining mess. Fingernails scratching his scalp, your inner muscles convulse and tense, nerves alive with every touch and heated kiss.

Dick is a curious guy. He always has been. It's what makes him such a good detective, and an even better hero. And right now? He's curious about you, making a mental note of what noises and gasps he can coax from you when he moves his tongue faster or slower. He experiments with quick, feather light licks to tease you, then uses more pressure, rubbing his tongue flat against your soft skin and moving in circles, noting your reactions to each technique. His saliva drips from his mouth to mix with your slick, which he greedily licks back up, no shame in his enthusiasm.

After several torturous minutes of him working you, he's got your legs quivering and your mind fuzzy, your pride long forgotten, unable to resist the urge to plead for more.

"Please?" You beg him, "I just want... fuck, please, Dick, I need it."

His hands grip you tight for a beat before he releases you. "I need you too, baby, fuck, feel how wet you are." You offer no resistance when his hand takes yours and places it between your legs. "Touch yourself, yeah... there you go... play with that pretty pussy for me, hm?" His deep voice vibrates in your head, sending a fresh rush of lust through your veins.

Pushing himself up, Dick reaches over you towards the bedside table to retrieve the goodie bag that the front desk was handing out for the couples retreat.

"Glad we can actually put this stuff to use," He mumbles, face better illuminated now that he's next to the alarm clock. He retrieves a condom and a single-use lube sample from the deep red gift bag, and you groan in embarrassment again.

"Shhh, hey, just keep touching yourself. It's fine, unless you brought other condoms?" He asks, already guessing your answer.

"Why would I bring condoms? I wasn't expecting this to happen," You reply, watching him rip the foil wrapper.

"Huh. Me either." He slips his boxers down his thighs, letting his cock spring free. You squint, trying to see the outline of his junk in the dark. He looks big. Big enough that when he slides the rubber over his shaft, it only makes it about 3/4th of the way down.

"It's kind of tight," He informs you, now opening up the lube sample and working the viscous liquid over himself. "But I'm pretty good about making big things fit in tight spaces."

The grin on your face is instant, cringing at his joke and shaking your head. "Would you shut up and fuck me, already?"

"Gods, yes."

His reply sounds pained, filled with longing, enough that you briefly question how long he's wanted this. You want to ask, but Dick is a man of his word, and before you can utter your question out loud, his hands are pressing your legs against your chest, knees over his shoulders, positioning you so he can slap his heavy cock against your clit.

Rubbing his tip against your wet folds of skin, you angle your hips a little better and guide him inside. Your slick heat swallows him up greedily, his cock bottoming out in one swift thrust.

You cry out at the sudden sting of him stretching your aching cunt. Hands gripping the sheets to ground yourself, your eyes water and your mouth hangs open, the feeling enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than him and how he's making you feel.

He offers a brief kiss to your whimpering lips, "Shhhh, I know, babe, I know, feels good... fuck... feels too good.”

Nestling closer to you, Dick settles so he has access to your neck. His hips are still, giving your body time to adjust from the abrupt intrusion. His warm breath tickles your ear between the sweet love pecks he presses into your skin. “You know, if we really wanna sell ourselves as a couple, maybe I should give you some hickies, mark up that pretty neck of yours.”

The muscles in the back of your legs burn from the stretch. The position you’re in doesn’t accommodate deep breathing, so your voice is weak when you warn him, “Can we not talk about work right now?”

“Right. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, when you’re pissed at me again.” He latches his lips onto your neck, withdrawing himself from you halfway before easing back in, slower this time, pausing again once he's fully buried.

"H-h-how... mm...d-dude, you're huge," You gasp, feeling his tip kiss your cervix, pushing your body to its limit.

Dick tenses, his solid body going rigid. His next statement seem imbued with an undertone of challenge, "Don't call me dude while I'm inside of you."

"Sorry I- shiiiit...." you lose your words when he starts moving again, pumping into you slowly, rolling his hips into yours while he sucks on your neck, leaving your skin damp with his saliva. Finding them again takes a minute. "M'sorry I didn't c-come up with a list... I mean, why would I be prompted...to... write out the things that are... are off limits when we're fucking?"

The words are forgotten as soon as you say it. His memorizing pace has you feeling alive with warm tingles, concentrated most where your bodies meet. You clench down on his thick cock, more arousal dripping out around him. You can feel your body release more wetness again, doing its best to accept what's being given as his soft raven hair tickles your cheek.

"We can make that list together, babe." His promise is murmured against your throat, "Maybe during our one-on-one counseling session tomorrow with the alleged con artist himself."

"W-wh...huh? What, oh... mmmm.... fuck, Dick.... what list?" You flex your feet and curl your toes, babbling and whimpering at him. You can't move much with how he's pinning you, completely at his mercy. Even though you've never slept together before now, you have complete trust in him, having put your life in his hands more times than you can count. Nightwing has never failed you as a teammate. And Dick certainly has never failed you as a friend. So even now, as he ruts himself into you with purpose, pushing your body to its brink, leaving dark bruises over your neck, you know he doesn't plan to fail you as a lover. If only for one night.

The speculation on whether this heated exchange will be a one-time thing or the start of something more is a worry for later on, not for right now. Right now, this god-like man is fucking himself into you harder and deeper, being much less gentle than how he handled you earlier.

"Feels s'good, tight little pussy is squeezing me, bet you haven't been fucked this good before," He rasps, giving your tender neck a break and resting his forehead against yours while he flexes and undulates, putting his abs, back, entire body into it, hitting spots deep inside of you that you didn't think were even there.

Your cries of pleasure get louder as the minutes pass. Keeping his pace steady, Dick moves his hand over your mouth for the second time this evening to muffle your desperate please for release.. "Shhhh... remember what I said," He taunts, "We can't blow our cover. People come to retreats like this because their marriage is failing. No one here is having sex as good as this."

If you were more aware, you'd point out to him that he just went against his whole justification for giving you love marks. But he might as well be speaking an alien language. The deep timbre of his words do, however, send a chill down your spine, pushing you over the precipice, your orgasm crashing over you hard.

Your eyes water even more and blur your already limited vision. Convulsing under the weight of him, you gasp against his palm, tasting yourself, eyes wide in the glow of the dim red light.

"That's it.... shii-iii-iit..." His body stills, and he closes his eyes, struggling desperately to stay off his own orgasm. You welcome the break, pleasure still pulsing in your core, flexing and wiggling your legs to alleviate the stiffness from the prolonged time in such an intense position you aren't used to.

Dick moans your name and shudders, "I need more."

"M-more?" You stutter, intoxicated from the post-orgasm haze.

Pushing himself up and off of you, he sits back on his knees again, cock slipping from your swollen cunt. Dick graciously lowers your legs, guiding them around his waist before leaning over you again, carefully slipping his arms under yours against your back to cradle you closer to him. You cling to him with trembling limbs, letting him move you how he sees fit.

"What, you think I was going to stop at one?" He whispers to you, low and eager. He slips his length back inside of you, the lewd squelching noise sounding absolutely filthy, your thighs damp from his sweat and your fluids. "I'm not wasting this opportunity to show you a good time.'"

Your pussy is so sensitive now, every thrust of his hips earning a small pant from you, feeling him fill you up, over and over, making room for himself inside your body with each tantalizing rut of his hips.

You mumble something incoherent, and Dick chuckles, proud to have you in such a state. "What's that, babe? I'm the best you've ever had?" He kisses your forehead, fucking you a little faster, his heavy balls smacking against your ass with each rut.

"This is... just to keep up appearances, right?" You ask, unsure if you want him to agree or not.

Probably not.

Definitely not.

"Of course." Dick promises, knowing full well that he will not be satisfied until he has you creaming around his cock like this every night. Not now. Not after tonight. Being here with you has opened his eyes, and helped him reflect on why he got so intensely jealous when you were turning heads earlier. "It's all for appearances, babe."

if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment!

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

[earthisnice]

The Secretary's Surprise

Male reader x Kep1er Xiaoting

this is my first time writing so I don't proofread, my bad. Anyways, enjoy

you wake up early today because you must interview some new intern later, even though you are the owner, sometimes you interview them to know who will be your employee. you get up from your bed and make a coffee in the kitchen and go the balcony enjoy the coffee and the view from your apartment. today's weather is so nice, you can see the view clearer than other day while slurping your hot coffee slowly not realizing you are late actually. you take your phone and send message Kim, your HRD to start interview first because you will come late. After sending a message to him, you take a shower and get ready to go.

on your way to the office, you stroll and enjoy the view and fresh air but suddenly someone crashes into you from behind and makes you fall on your face. you try to sit down and face up to see who crashed on you. She is beautiful you thought then she screamed when she looked at you

"It's blood !!" and she rushed to you gave a tissue and apologized to you.

"sorry i crashes into you because i was in a hurry to the office for a job interview" she said while bowed to me many times.

"it's okay, careful next time. okay?" you replied and then helped her tidy up her belongings that fell after she bumped into you earlier.

"where will you have a job interview?" you asked her.

"it's DP company" she said.

you hide your shock while helped tidying her fallen belonging because she will do the job interview at your company and not telling her that you are the owner.

"ah it's a big company, right? why do you want to work there… sorry who is your name?" you asked

"i'm xiaoting" she replied.

"ah i see, xiaoting. it's beautiful name. so why you want to work at DP company?" you asked her once again.

"it's my dream to work there since my college life, i study hard so i can reach my dream there" she said reminiscing her dream then the reality slapped her that she already late to the job interview

"i go first and i'm sorry once again crashes you" she continued and bowed to you for one last time.

finally you arrive at your office and you got bombarded by question from your employees because a tissue plugged in your nose

"Y/N, why are your nose bleeding?!?" they asked.

"ahhh it's nothing, i got tripped and fall down" you replied

"Which room is the place for job interviews?" you continued

"it's on the third floor, for accounting team's room" they replied

"ah okay, thanks" you replied again then go to the third floor and stepped into the room when xiaoting interviewed, her eyes widen and confused why are you there in the same room.

"Oh, Xiaoting is being interviewed now? Just accept her to work here, no need for interview further" you said ordering Kim.

"do you know her boss?" he asked

"yes, i met her when i collided with her earlier" you replied

then Kim explained who you are to her, that you are the owner of the company.

"ah.. 1 more question xiaoting, which department do you applied again?" you asked her.

"i applied for accounting department and secretary.." she answered

"okay good, be my secretary then. you can work now, can you?" you cut her.

"yes i can, sir" she answered.

"okay let's go then" you command her to follow you

"you can continue the interview for accounting department" you said to Kim and he nodded.

you walked out from the interview room and lead xiaoting to her office room

"Y/N, i'm sorry that i don't noticed you earlier and sorry for made your nose bleeding too", she said while bowed again.

"heyyy.. it's nothing don't blamed yourself like that, and i can see your passion for the work and have a great attitude too. if not, you already leaving me there bleeding" i laughed changing the subject.

"by the way, how old are you now, Xiaoting?" you asked her,

"i'm 25 now, sir" she replied.

"heyy.. the different not that much, i'm 29. you can drop the honorifics, because we met casually" you said.

"here.. you can work here, this is your office room. you know what secretary do, right?" you showed her office room and give her a deskjob then she nodded.

"if there is anything you don't understand, you can come to my room to ask, okay" you continued as she nodded again.

day to weeks you work tandem with her, she is excellent with what her doing. you never expected found someone with talent to be your secretary like her. today is like another day you work with her while she mention your next schedule.

"okay, thanks for the info, ting" you said.

you go out for the meeting with your client and she stay at the office because you command her. you done meeting with lient before lunch then heading back to your office. after you arrived at office, you are not heading to your office room but her office room. you opened the door and it made her jolted in surprise

"oh, sorry to surprise you hehe" you giggled.

"want to lunch together?" you asked her and she nodded.

"how is the job? do you like it? does it meet your expectations when you dream of working in my company?" you bombarded her with questions.

"can you asked one by one?" she said chuckled.

"oh my bad hehe" you chuckle replied her.

"the job is best for me, it absolutely meet my expectation i dreamed of" she answered,

"it's relieving , i put you in the right job" you replied.

"by the way, tonight you will no have any schedule, sir" she said.

"okay thank you for the info, you can go home early too. hey, remember to drop honorifics when meet me?" you said, she nodded smile.

the night has come when you packing to go home early but something make you to work overtime because of your client request, you sighed of it. then, someone knocking your room

"come in" you answered the knock.

"oh it's you ting. what's up?" you asked her.

"hmm.. didn't I say that you don't have any schedule tonight?" she asked.

"well, client's request so i have to wrap it up. something happened?" you asked while focus on your laptop as you heard the door locked in.

you turned you face to the doorway and see xiaoting,

"hmm? why you locked the door?" you frown questioning.

xiaoting not answering but walk into your way slowly and stand behind your chair, her hands landed your shoulders massaging it,

"you've worked hard, Y/N, your muscle is so tensed" she whispered

you can feel her hot breath on your ears. you turn your chair around to face her,

"wh-what are you doing, ting?" you asked while she start stripping in front of you.

her small pert breast with pink nipples and shaved pussy, make you gulped with the sight and can feel you cock start hardening,

"i can make you relax.. oppa" she said, this is the first time she called you oppa.

then she kneel down and caressing your thigh and trail her hands to your cock through the pants. her hands worked unbuckled your belt and unzipped it to pull it down, your cock sprang free hit her chin. she smiled and her eyes widen awe by your size

"it's so big" she murmured.

then she place her hands on my cock and stroke it up and down,

"ah.." you moaned.

she is not wasting time leaned in and kiss your tip to taste your precum, her mouth gaped slightly and take you cock into her mouth while her tongue licked the underside.

"oh my.. your mouth.." your words are cut off as you moaned and caressing her hair and bring her head to go deeper take your cock.

you hold her head till your tip can feel her back throat, you can see the tears flowing from the corner of her eyes. then you pull you hands off of her head and she start backing off gasped some air, you can see a string saliva connected from her lips to your cock.

"woah.. woahh.. didn't expected my secretary can help relax too" you said as you caress her cheek,

then you command her to blow your cock again. you can feel your orgasm building but you don't want explode in her mouth, you want your cock deep inside her pussy, you thought.

you stand her up to her feet and bend her over to your desk

"stay like this, ting" you command her

you kneel down and leaned in closer bring your tongue to her pussy, you lick her pussy from behind while your hands caressing her asscheeks. she moaned by your action and her juices start dripping to your mouth.

"hmm.. someone must be so horny here, huh?" you teased her,

"ahh.. oppa, don't stop. i'm so close" she said moaning.

you continued your lick but your finger slid inside her pussy now. you slid another finger to her pussy, scissoring and stretch it wide, you pump in and out of her pussy and touch her sweet spot while your tongue worked on her clit, she cry out and a few moment later she squirting hard on your hand and face.

"wow, you came so much" you watch with awe while you lap your chin,

"i'm sorry oppa, i make a mess in your office" she apologized.

"it's okay ting, i want to make you squirt more and make this room our playground" you smirked while you kiss her bare back trail up to her shoulders.

you aligned your cock to her pussy and penetrate her slowly from behind

"ahh ting, you're so tight" you groaned.

"ahh oppa…" she cry out while you thrust deeper,

and finally your cock successfully entered inside her pussy, you stay still so she can adjust your size and feel your cock inside and also in the meantime you can feel her walls pulsating massaging your cock

"can i start?" you asked her permission and she nodded.

then you start thrust in and out slowly so she can feel the sensation.

"faster oppa.. fuck me faster !!" she moaned begged me to go faster and i complied it.

your hands gripped her hips as you thrust into her faster as you watched her ass jiggle rhythmically with your thrust, you can't help but slap her ass, she moaned louder and her walls clench my cock tighter.

"are you close ting? i can feel your grip me tighter" you said, "yes.. oppa.. i'm cumming!!" she cry out, squirt on your cock coating it with her juices. you're not slowed down, you still thrust in and out fast through her orgasm that make her squirt once more.

you flip her body and lay her back to your desk,

"wrapped your legs to my waist ting" you command her and she complied it,

then you pull her arms and put it around to your neck. you penetrate her once again and carry her make she yelp. your hands grip her ass and moves her hips up and down like a fleshlight, she cry out again, you hold her hips still while your moves up and down now thrusting faster and harder into her pussy. with some thrust she squirt again, and her walls clench tighter like milking your cock.

"i'm close, ting" you whispered on her ears and bring her down to her kneel, stroke your cock.

"open your mouth, ting" you command her and explode inside her mouth and some on her face and hair.

"swallow it if you want. it's okay to spit it out" you hands her a tissue but she swallow it instead.

"your cum taste sweet and salty, oppa" she said as wiping her face and hair with the tissue you gave her ,

"lick cleaned me up ting" you command her as you bring your cock in front of her lips again, she complied lick your cock clean.

"you are amazing, ting. you are my best secretary" you kiss her forehead and caress her hair.

[prentisssbxtch]

An experience. pt. 2

summary: the woman you slept with the night before, ends up being your boss.

relationship: wanda x fem!reader

warnings: swearing and smut (think that’s it)

wc: 2k

pt 1

an: sorry this took so long😭 - also i’m not all that good at writing smut so i’m sorry!!

not proofread + not very good…

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

ever since you found out you'd be working for wanda, or i guess Miss Maximoff, you've make sure to stay clear of her. avoiding her like the plague. which you'd done well up until now…

your day started the same as everyday since starting your internship a month ago. you got ready, grabbed a taxi, and walked into the giant building everyone knew of.

you stepped into the elevator just to the left of the secretary's desk. clicking the number four, you grabbed your phone from your pocket feeling a vibration. just as the doors were about to close you heard a faintly familiar voice, but were unable to put a face to it.

"hold the doors," the voice yelled grabbing your attention just in time for you to stick your hand out and stop the elevator doors from closing.

the first thing you see are beautiful, most definitely expensive, black heels. looking up from the floor, you're greeted with wanda.

you can see the realization cross her face for a split second, but as you blink, it's gone. she says a quiet thank you as she steps in beside you.

giving a small smile in response, you awkwardly look down.

"floor six please," you almost don't register her speaking. quickly looking over towards her to see her looking from you to the rows of numbers.

"oh, right sorry," you say feeling your cheeks heat as you turn to press the six. you faintly hear her chuckle in amusement at you before you go back to staring at the floor.

you begin to silently pray for the elevator to hurry up and get you out of here. paying she doesn't try to make conversation.

apparently your luck has already ran out.

"how do you like working here so far?" comes from beside you.

"it's been alright," you respond after a moment, slowing nodding your head as you answer. the idea that her tongue was down your throat just a month ago, making you uneasy.

you can feel eyes on you which causes you to turn your head towards the taller woman, seeing her already looking at you. "i had fun that night."

you stare at her for a second not knowing what to say or think. opening and shutting your mouth, trying to form words. "so did i," you feel your cheeks heat up as you turn to look away. "but it can never happen again."

you glance up to see the doors should be opening any minute now. suddenly wanda moves and hits the giant red button with the words 'stop' above it. abruptly stoping the elevator before the doors can open.

"and why's that?" she questions hand moving back to her side, but she was now standing closer to you.

"you're my boss now. doesn't that go against regulations or something?" you question looking up to her. she was already a couple inches taller, but now with the heels she is a good 4-5 inches taller than you.

she gives a slight smirk before speaking, “i make the rules love,” her right hand moving to push hair over your shoulder, “but i suppose you’re correct.”

once again at a loss for words you stare up at her, feeling your cheeks slightly heating up. hoping she doesn’t notice, but based off her facial expression, she does.

she moves her hand to the stop button again, quickly pressing it causing the doors to open. glancing from the now open doors, back to her, you give a small awkward smile before walking away. quickly.

——

it’s been two weeks since the “moment” you had with wanda. if you could even call it that. you’re walking into the building for the sixth time this week, only getting one day off a week. you’re in black dress pants, a white tucked button up, and some black heels.

heels that are similar to the ones wanda wears, but not nearly as expensive.

ever since you were in that elevator with her, the tension between the two of you has increased. she’s been requesting your help more than any others. each and every time you two are speaking, she’s always closer than most people would stand by someone.

today is no different as you walk into work. getting to the fourth floor, you step out of the elevator, only for the receptionist behind the desk to tell you wanda asked for you.

confused as to why you’d be needed so early, you turn and get back onto the elevator. clicking the sixth floor, you pull out your phone checking notifications.

once the elevator dings, you step out walking towards wanda’s office. quickly adjusting your hair out of habit, you reach your arm out to knock on the big door. waiting for an invitation in.

you faintly hear a soft voice form the inside telling you to come in. you enter the room to see wanda behind her desk not looking up from her computer. you take a moment to look around the room, having been up here before but never taking the time to appreciate how nice it is.

there was full wall windows behind wanda desk, tinted for the outside. along the walls are bookshelves full of law books, pictures, plants, and even small trinkets. the walls have wanda’s achievements and plaques. as well as some painting. off to the left wall, there’s a nice couch with a coffee table in front of it.

turning your attention back to wanda you speak, “you called for me?” she slightly nods her head, clearly doing something that needs her attention. after a few seconds she turns you with a smile.

“i did, yes.” she says while moving to shut her computer. “take a seat.” she says pointing to the chairs in front of her desks.

moving to take a seat, you sit down not fully moving to put your back against the back of the chair. putting your hands in your lap you look once again to wanda, who has been watching you the whole time.

without saying anything; she stands from her chair coming to lean against her desk in front of you. making you have to raise your head to look her in the eyes.

“you know, i’ve been thinking. do you remember the night of the bar?” she questions looking at you intently. nodding your head, you feel your stomach flutter at the memory. “i’m going to be honest with you y/n, that was some of the best sex i’ve had. in a while, maybe even ever.”

you stare at her in shock, but know deep down it’s the same for you.

“i want you see you again. in that aspect i mean.” being the only words she continues saying.

“me too.”

——

you don’t know how it happened. it all being a big blur, but here you are sitting on wanda’s desk with her between your legs. her tongue is practically down your throat while one hand is gripping your waist tightly between her fingers, while the other is massaging your thigh.

she pulls back from the kiss looking at you, feeling herself getting wet just from the look of you. cheeks flushed, kiss swollen lips, hair mused. she needs to have you now. her hands move to the buttons of your shirt, looking to you for consent to unbutton it.

after giving her a small nod, she quickly moves to unbutton your shirt. being greeted by the white lace bra cupping your breasts.

“so pretty,” she says rubbing her thumbs over your peeking through nipples. “d’you wear this for me?” she speaks with a small smirk, eyes moving up to you’re face.

with a small nod you look up to her. “knew you’d like it,” you spoke not knowing where the confidence came from. you look over her body seeing her completely clothed, moving your hands to the ends of her button up you look to her eyes for permission to remove the cloth. your eyes meet her darkened eyes before your given an ok.

lifting her shirt, you’re greeted by a black bra cupping her breasts perfectly. the air in your lungs leaving you at the sight. almost like the first time you’ve seen her.

her hands move to the clasp of your bra, eyes meeting yours, asking for permission. once granted, she un-clasps the offending garment. she lets out a small groan at the sight of your breasts. nipples peaked from the cool air, begging for attention.

without any warning; her lips are wrapped around your left nipple as her hand fiddles with the right. your lips part to let out a startled sound of shock before being taken over by pleasure.

the hand moving down your stomach reaches the top of your pants, fiddling with the buckle. she lets go of your nipple with a pop before turning her attention to your face. “can i take these off pretty?”

without hesitation you agree moving to help shimmy your pants off quicker. causing wanda to let out an amused laugh.

once your pants are off, you’re left in just your panties as wanda takes in the sight. letting out a small groan she speaks, “i’m taking my time with you this time.” she runs her pointer finger over the top of your covered mound. noticing the obvious wet patch from arousal. “what’s got you so worked up, hm?”

“y-you,” you manage to stutter out, beginning to grow desperate for attention.

as if reading your mind, wanda uses one finger to slip your panties to the side, getting a full view of your arousal. “such a pretty pussy.” you hear her mumble before feeling a pressure on your clit.

letting out a small gasp at the stimulation, you buck your hips up wanting more. wanda smirks as she runs her thumb over your clit, adding more pressure when she decides.

with no warning she shoves her middle finger right into your opening, making quick work of moving in and out. not adding another finger until you’re begging.

once she has both middle and ring finger working you up, she continues her ministrations on your clit. throwing your head back in ecstasy, you miss wanda moving down to wrap her lips around your clit. letting out a loud moan as her fingers curl up to find the spot that will make you cry out.

she knows she’s found it when your hips buck up and your hand flys to her head. tugging her hair, wanting to keep her in place. you move your other hand to cover your mouth, remembering you're still at work.

you feel yourself building closer and closer to the edge, you know wanda can too as you squeeze her fingers. almost like she takes your cumming as a challenge, she speeds up her movements, helping to bring you closer.

“i- mm… i’m gonna cumm,” you finally got out as you climbed higher and higher. feeling your whole body tingling.

“cum for me baby.”

her words were the only thing it took for you to fall over the edge with a loud cry. wanda refusing to stop until you were a whimpering mess trying to get away from the stimulation.

wanda pulls back, slowly removing her fingers from inside you, moving them to her mouth to clean off. with a hum she speaks, “just as good as i remember.”

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

i was gonna tag everyone who wanted another part, but it wouldn’t let me😭

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

...

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call. Quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress—along with the charger cord still attached to it—and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, laundry. Gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. “Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum—depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you—almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead—probably tonight when you do your daily login—you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming—but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell dropped on you and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend—nope, nothing unusual here—you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading! 

[arkieve]

Sign | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 1183

Regulus finds him in the storage room sitting on a plastic chair wedged into the narrow space, earbuds in, chuckling at something on his phone. To say Regulus is annoyed is an understatement.

The sudden influx of bright light has him unplugging one ear and peering up at Regulus with an easy smile, which only grates on him further.

“Reg.” Not Reg, Regulus. “You have to look at this!” He angles his screen toward Regulus, who takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Harold.”

“Reginald,” he reciprocates easily.

“That’s not my name.”

“And my name is not Harold. Glad we got that established.” He has the audacity to put his earbud back in, and Regulus, whose patience for him has been dwindling all evening, walks over and grabs his phone, ignoring the indignant “Hey!” he gets in response.

“What are you doing here? I sent you to get sugar 30 minutes ago.”

Harry shrugs, tilting back in his chair. “I got a little sidetracked, you know how it is.”

No, Regulus does not know how it is, because he’s an adult who takes his job seriously, and Harry is a little twerp who cheated his way into employment.

Regulus takes advantage of their height difference, looking down at him, aiming for authority and a smidge of intimidation as he says, “You’re at work. Act like it!”

Harry stands up to his full height, immediately dwarfing Regulus, and Regulus has to hold back the string of curses threatening to spill out of him as he stands his ground. Harry leans forward, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Why you hired this imbecile, I’ll never know,” he huffs indignantly when he comes back out, Harry trailing after him.

“His dad is hot,” Dorcas says from the counter, bills in hand.

Harry groans in disgust from where he’s crouched, grabbing cleaning supplies. “Never say that around me again.”

“Agreed,” Regulus supplies. “Besides, you’re a lesbian.”

“Goes to show you how hot he is. Hey, Harry, he’s picking you up today, right?”

Harry makes a noise of disgust and refuses to answer.

Regulus rolls his eyes, pulling himself up onto the counter and leaning back against his hands. Harry emerges with a rag over his shoulder and a frown etched into his eyebrows. “You’re not helping with cleaning?”

“Please, I’ve practically been working your shift for you. Clean-up is all yours, buddy.” When Harry doesn’t move, he waves him away. “Shoo, off you go, Harold.”

Harry tsks and leaves, grumbling about something to himself.

“Be nice to him,” Dorcas says while handling the register. “He has a crush on you.”

“Gross. He’s like five and the most annoying person I know.”

“He’s fifteen!” Harry calls from where he’s wiping tables. “And he can hear you.”

“He should shut up and get back to work.”

That seems to have the opposite effect on Harry, who stops wiping and leans against the table, arms crossed. “C’mon, Reg, what do you say? Me and you, what’s eight years?”

Regulus opts to ignore him, turning his attention back to Dorcas. “Besides,” he speaks in a considerably lower voice, “I have a–”

“Man,” Dorcas intercepts, making a face. “I know. Everyone knows.”

Regulus smiles stupidly, the heels of his feet tapping the cabinet below as he starts dangling his legs in giddiness. “Do they?”

“Shut up.”

“I don’t really have him, not yet at least. We’ve only been on, like, three dates, but soon. I’m locking him down, Dorcas, just you wait.”

“What’re you gonna do? Baby-trap him?”

Regulus hums, then shakes his head. “No, but did you know he’s a single father? He’s so present in his son’s life, it’s…” Regulus trails off, a glazed look in his eyes.

“Careful, your daddy issues are showing,” she says, whacking Regulus’ thigh in chastisement. “How old is this guy anyway?” 

“He’s thirty.” When Dorcas raises an eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. “What’s seven years?” The moment the words leave his mouth, his face contorts in disgust. 

Dorcas throws her head back laughing. 

When Harry takes his sweet time with the clean-up, Regulus joins in and helps mop the floor. Before long, they’re done, and Dorcas and Harry head out back to get dressed to go home, while Regulus does some minor dusting.

The door should be locked at this time; even so, the “Closed” sign should be enough to deter potential customers. As it is, the door is open, and the person who enters apparently cannot read because the bell above the door chimes and in comes– James?

Regulus is confused, but he hugs James all the same, and James reciprocates, holding Regulus close. They stay close even after parting.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asks, cradling James’ stubbled cheek. James’ hand comes up to hold his.

A mixture of confusion and amusement crosses James’ face as he asks, “What are you doing here?”

Now Regulus is even more confused. He takes a step back and gestures to the apron around his waist with the logo on it, and it seems to dawn on James then.

“You... work here.” He’s making a face, one Regulus doesn’t understand.

“Yeah,” he says, suddenly feeling insecure. He knows James has a fancy office job, pretty settled with his life in general, while Regulus is in between things, not sure, really, where he’s going in life. It didn’t really hit him that it was going to be an issue until now. He must be making a face, because James quickly recovers and moves toward him.

“Hey, no, I–”

“Dad!” Harry rounds the counter, outerwear on and bag slung over his shoulder, and Regulus’ brain glitches, overheats, crashes, and reboots.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

Harry must’ve picked up on the vibes because he stops a few steps short of them and eyes them warily, gaze shifting back and forth between them questioningly. “What’s going on…?”

“Dad,” Regulus’ malfunctioning brain manages. 

“I told you about my son, remember?” James sounds stilted, mechanical, like the whole ordeal is as mortifying to him as it is to Regulus.

“Uhh… what?” Comes Harry’s response, which goes ignored. “What is this?”

“You told me about your baby.”

“Yes,” James nods, color returning to his face.

“No…” Harry looks increasingly distraught, shaking his head. “Dad, you did not!” He rounds on his… father. 

Regulus is going to be sick.

“James,” Regulus manages steadily. “That is not a baby.”

Harry is making wounded noises and gagging in the background.

“I’m his father, he’ll always be my baby.”

Regulus shakes his head, pointing to his annoying co-worker, who has now taken to throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flurry and crying out, Someone has to kill me. I refuse to live another day!

“That is a grown man.” Despite what his current antics suggest.

James smiles sheepishly, poking Harry with his shoe, urging him to get up.

Dorcas comes out then, scarf in hand, and takes one look at Harry on the floor, dry-heaving on the tiles, and the mortifying looks on Regulus’ and James’ faces, and everything clicks immediately. 

“Oh, this is gold!”

[cloudtransprncy]

One Night Only - Directors Cut

Jennie Kim X Male Reader | 8k words

One night. That’s all you ever get. By morning, she’ll be gone. You’ll tell yourself this was the last time. You’ll both know it’s not.

AN: Ya’ll might remember this if you followed me last year. Spent the last few weeks reworking it—call it the director’s cut. Also Jennie is still my ult and so her coming back into the light is great.

Consequence. The word sits heavy in your mind as you watch the city from your hotel window. Thirty floors below, New York keeps moving. Never stops.

You flick ash from your cigarette. Every choice has weight. You know this. You called her anyway.

Jennie's mouth is on yours, soft and demanding at once. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and expensive gin, sweet and sharp. Her full lips part against yours, tongue sliding against your bottom lip. Her fingers pull at your hair, just rough enough to send shivers down your spine. Between kisses she breathes, "This is stupid," but her body presses closer, breasts pushing against your chest, hips finding yours.

Commitment. You've spent years avoiding that word. Being tied down always felt wrong. You need movement, new cities, different faces. Maybe that's why things fell apart—she saw what you couldn't admit. You'd always choose the road over staying still.

Her skin burns under your hands, smooth and impossibly soft. When you slide your palm down the curve of her waist to the flare of her hip, she sighs against your neck, her breath hot on your skin. "I've missed this," she says quietly, like she's admitting something she shouldn't. You back her against the wall, pinning her with your body. She arches into you, head tilting back in invitation. You feel her pulse jump beneath your lips when you kiss her throat, right at that spot that always makes her grip your shoulders tighter.

The hotel room is all clean lines and empty space. King bed with white sheets. Bathroom with too many mirrors. Mini-fridge you've already raided. View of the city that probably costs extra. Your record label covers it, so you don't care.

As a kid, you'd search for Virgo in the night sky. Stars were constant when nothing else was. Jennie's like that. No matter how far you go, you always circle back to her.

In the half-dark, her eyes catch the light from outside. She's always seen through you, always known the parts you try to hide from everyone else.

---

She'll come. She always does.

You know she's with someone else now—an actor with a jawline made for billboards. In her world of flashbulbs and red carpets, he makes sense. But you were there first, and somehow, you're still not gone.

It's been a year since you ended things, if you can call it an ending. When you call, she answers. When she texts, you drop everything. Some connections don't break clean.

Stop. Go. Stop. Go.

A day between Chicago and Toronto shows up in your tour schedule. When you hear she's in New York for some event, changing your plans feels inevitable.

At sunset, you text her from your hotel room. The message is simple: Here for the night. Room 3045.

She replies with just a question mark. Your conversations have become this—shorthand that only works because you share history.

"I'm in the city for one night," you say when you call her. The silence on her end isn't hesitation; it's calculation. Background noise filters through the phone—glasses clinking, people talking.

"I got a room, for me and you" you add. "One night only." You hang up knowing she'll decide whether to come. You also know what that decision will be.

The knock comes at 12:17. Three quick taps.

When you open the door, your breath catches in your throat. Jennie leans against the frame, champagne glass dangling between her fingers, but it's her body that has your full attention. Her black dress hugs every curve like it was painted on, stopping mid-thigh to reveal legs that seem endless. The material stretches tight across her hips, then tapers at her waist before swelling to accommodate her breasts. The neckline dips just low enough to make your mouth go dry.

"Started without me?" you nod toward her drink, trying to sound casual while your pulse hammers in your ears.

"Needed something to get me here," she says, her lips curving into that smile that's haunted you for months. Her eyes are dark and knowing, lined with perfect black wings that make them look even more dangerous.

Jennie walks in like she owns the place, hips swaying with each step. Those knee-high socks hug her calves, leading up to a thin garter belt that disappears beneath her dress—a promise of what waits underneath. Her skin glows warm and golden against the black fabric. Her dark hair tumbles in loose waves past her shoulders, the kind of perfectly tousled look that makes your fingers itch to grab it.

Her perfume wraps around you—roses with something darker underneath, expensive and intoxicating. The scent that's followed you to hotel rooms across the country, lingering on your sheets and clothes long after she's gone.

She finishes her drink and sets the glass down with deliberate slowness. Her red-painted nails catch the light as her hand moves to your chest. "We shouldn't keep doing this," she says, but her fingers are already working your shirt buttons, knuckles brushing against your skin with each one. Her touch leaves heat trails down your torso. "It's not fair."

"When has anything been fair?" you ask. Her mouth curves into the smile that's always meant trouble.

"Never," she agrees, pressing her hand against your chest. "So we might as well take what we can get."

When she kisses you, it feels like she's taking something back, something she left with you months ago. Tonight, in this room, she's not the girl from magazine covers or someone's girlfriend. She's yours again, temporarily.

"It's been a while," she whispers against your mouth.

"Too long," you admit.

The door clicks shut behind her. You have until sunrise.

Something electric sparks between you the moment the door clicks shut. The air feels different - charged with memory and want. Your bodies remember each other before your minds can catch up.

You're on the couch in minutes, her weight settling into your lap like she belongs there. This kiss is different from the ones you remember - hungrier, more desperate. Her tongue slides against yours, and you taste gin and desire. Her body presses against yours, soft in all the places you've missed.

Your hands find her curves through the thin fabric of her dress. You squeeze her ass, pulling her closer until there's nothing between you but clothing. She moans into your mouth when you press your hardness against her. You can feel her heat even through layers of fabric.

Jennie breaks the kiss, a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips for a second before it breaks. Her eyes are dark pools reflecting the city lights outside. They hold yours with an intensity that makes your throat tight.

"I've missed this, Owen," she whispers. Her voice is rough at the edges. She grinds against you, slow and deliberate, the friction making your breath catch. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you back to her mouth. This kiss is deeper, messier, with teeth and tongue and need.

Your hands slide under her dress, finding warm skin. The sound she makes when you touch her bare thighs shoots straight to your groin. You push the fabric higher, revealing more of her, inch by inch. Her breathing quickens as her hips roll against yours. Her nipples are hard points pressing through the fabric, rubbing against your chest.

She lifts her arms as you pull the dress over her head. You toss it aside, forgotten before it hits the floor.

Moonlight spills through the windows, painting her skin silver. She's all smooth curves and shadows in the half-light. Her body is a map you once knew by heart - the slight curve of her waist, the fullness of her breasts, the dip of her collarbone. You take it all in again, relearning her.

Your hands can't stay still. You need to touch every inch of her, remind yourself that she's real. Her skin is impossibly soft under your fingertips, warm and alive. Each touch makes her shift against you, seeking more pressure, more contact.

The sounds she makes are better than any song you've written. Small gasps when you squeeze her thighs. A sharp intake of breath when your thumb grazes her nipple. Low hums of pleasure when you find a spot she likes. Each sound builds on the last, creating a rhythm that guides your hands.

You need to taste her. Starting at her collarbone, you press your lips to her skin. Salt and sweetness and expensive perfume fill your senses. She sighs, her head falling back to give you better access. You work your way across her shoulder, down her arm, learning the texture of her skin with your mouth.

When you reach her breast, you feel her whole body tense in anticipation. The skin here is softer, more delicate. You circle her nipple with your tongue, feeling it harden further. Your hand finds her other breast, thumb rolling over the stiff peak.

"Oh my god," she moans when you take her nipple into your mouth. Her back arches, pushing more of her into your face. The taste of her skin goes straight to your head like strong liquor. Her chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath.

Your free hand slides down her stomach, fingers spread wide to feel as much of her as possible. You trace the edge of her panties, feeling the lace against your fingertips. She rocks against your hand, seeking more pressure. You cup her between her legs, feeling the heat and dampness through the thin fabric. Jennie gasps, her thighs trembling as you press your palm firmly against her covered pussy.

"Fuck," she breathes, grinding down on your hand. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling hard enough to make your scalp tingle. The slight pain only makes you harder.

You move to her neck, dragging your teeth along the sensitive skin below her ear. When you bite down - not hard enough to mark, but enough to make her feel it - she whimpers, her whole body shuddering. Your thumb makes slow circles against her covered clit while your teeth work at her neck, finding the spots that make her grip your shoulders.

"I forgot how good you feel," you say against her skin, your voice rough with wanting.

"I want to feel you too," she says, eyes locked on yours. Her pupils are blown wide with desire. Her hand traces up your arm, across your shoulder, around to your back. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving trails of sensation. She tugs at your shirt, impatient now. You let her pull it over your head.

Her hands are everywhere at once, exploring your chest, your shoulders, your back. Her touch starts gentle but quickly turns hungry. She leans down to kiss your neck, her lips hot against your pulse point. Her teeth graze your skin, just hard enough to make you hiss.

As her mouth works its way down your chest, a thought flickers through your mind - does she do this with him? Does she make these same sounds, move in these same ways? The thought knifes through the pleasure for a split second before her touch pulls you back.

Nothing exists outside this room. Not her boyfriend. Not your tour. Just her hands on your skin and her breath in your ear.

"Fuck! I need your dick in my mouth," Jennie says, her voice thick with desire. She slides from your lap in one fluid motion, her body moving with practiced grace. She settles between your legs, her knees pressed against the hotel carpet, thighs spread slightly apart. Her hair falls forward, framing her face as she looks up at you through her lashes.

In the half-light, she's a vision – lips parted and swollen from kissing, chest flushed and rising with quick breaths, her breasts full and nipples still hard from your attention. The garter and stockings against her bare skin create a contrast that makes your mouth go dry.

She runs her hands up your thighs, fingers pressing into your muscles. Her red nails stand out against your skin as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. There's something almost reverential in how she tugs them down – slowly at first, then with growing urgency. Her eyes never leave yours, even as she licks her lower lip in anticipation.

The fabric slides past your hips, and your cock springs free, hard and aching. A small smile plays at the corner of her mouth as she takes you in. She leans closer, her breath warm against your sensitive skin. When she finally looks up at you, her eyes are dark pools of hunger and something deeper – a look that's always been reserved just for you.

"You can have it tonight," you say, your voice rough as her hands wrap around your cock.

"All of it?" Jennie asks with a smile that's pure trouble. Her eyes don't leave yours. You nod, unable to form words.

She leans closer, parts her lips, and lets a strand of spit fall onto the tip. The warm wetness makes you twitch. She uses her fingers to spread it down your length, coating you. Her hand starts moving in slow strokes that make your breath catch.

Jennie sweeps her hair to one side, giving you a clear view. She doesn't break eye contact as she moves closer. Her breath hits you first, warm against sensitive skin. Then her tongue, wet and soft, circles the head of your cock. Your hands grip the couch cushions.

When she takes you into her mouth, the heat is shocking. Her lips stretch around you as she slides down, taking you deeper than you expected. Her tongue works against the underside, finding spots that make your thighs tense. The wet sounds fill the quiet room.

She pulls back, only keeping the tip in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it, teasing the sensitive spot just underneath. Then she moves down again, a little deeper this time. The rhythm is maddening – not enough to get you there, just enough to keep you desperate for more.

Jennie pulls off completely, her hand still working you in slow strokes. She looks up, studying your reaction. Her free hand moves to your balls, cupping them gently, then rolling them between her fingers. The touch is unexpectedly tender compared to the hunger in her eyes.

"You like that?" she asks, knowing the answer. Her thumb traces circles at the base of your cock while her other hand continues its exploration. "You always did."

She leans down and runs her tongue from base to tip in one long, wet stroke. Then does it again on the underside, where you're most sensitive. Your hips lift off the couch involuntarily. She smiles at your reaction, clearly enjoying the power she has over you.

Jennie takes her time, alternating between her mouth and her hands. Sometimes she focuses just on the head, sucking gently while her hand works the shaft. Other times she takes you deep, then pulls back to circle the tip with her tongue. There's no pattern to follow, nothing to prepare you for what comes next.

Her hand slides lower, massaging your balls again before moving even further back. The unexpected pressure makes your whole body tense. She watches your reaction with dark, knowing eyes.

"Hold my hair," she says, pulling off for a moment. She grabs your hands and places them on either side of her head. "I want you to watch."

With your hands holding her hair back, you have a perfect view of her face, of her lips as they stretch around you again. She takes you deeper this time, her eyes watering slightly at the corners. The sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge.

She pulls off but keeps stroking you with her hand, tight and slick with spit. With her hair pulled back, you can see everything – her flushed cheeks, her bare shoulders, the tops of her breasts rising and falling with each breath. She looks like something from a dream you've had too many times.

"You just can't stay away, can you?" she says, her voice low and teasing. Her hand never stops moving on you. "Always calling me back. Always wanting one more night."

She takes you back into her mouth, just the tip, sucking hard before releasing you with a pop.

"You think about this when you're with other girls?" She speeds up her strokes, twisting her wrist in a way that makes your vision blur. "Bet you do. Bet none of them do it like I do."

Her words hit something deep inside you – a truth you don't want to admit. You tighten your grip on her hair, pulling just enough to make her eyes flash. She smiles, knowing she's struck a nerve.

"That's why you keep coming back," she continues, dropping her head to lick a slow circle around the base of your cock. She moves lower, taking one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently while her hand keeps working your shaft. The dual sensation makes your legs shake.

When she looks up again, there's challenge in her eyes. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Before you can answer, she takes you deep into her mouth again, all the way until you hit the back of her throat. She holds there, swallowing around you, her eyes never leaving yours. The sensation is overwhelming – wet heat and pressure and the sight of her taking all of you.

"Fuck," is all you can manage, and she hums in satisfaction around you.

Jennie works you with perfect focus. Sometimes she takes you deep, her nose nearly touching your stomach, staying there until she needs to breathe. Other times she pulls back to use her hand with her mouth, twisting her wrist in a way that makes spots dance behind your eyes.

Every few strokes she pulls off completely, gathering more spit, making everything wetter, messier. Saliva coats your cock and her chin now, catching the dim light. It should be gross but it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Time stretches and blurs. It could be minutes or hours. There's just Jennie's mouth, her hands, the heat building at the base of your spine.

She changes her approach, focusing just on the head, sucking harder while her hand works the shaft in quick, tight strokes. The new sensation makes your leg muscles jump. You feel yourself getting close.

"Fuck, Jennie, I'm—" you try to warn her, reaching to pull her head back. You want to make this last, to feel more of her tonight.

She slaps your hand away, hard enough to sting.

"You're giving this to me now," she says, voice raspy from having you in her throat. "And you're giving me more later." Her tone leaves no room for argument.

Jennie doubles down, moving with new determination. One hand squeezes the base while her mouth works the rest. Her other hand slides between your legs, fingernails lightly scratching your inner thigh. The unexpected touch makes you gasp.

She takes you deeper again, moaning around you like she's enjoying this as much as you are. The vibration, the suction, the sight of her – it all becomes too much.

The orgasm hits you like a punch. Your vision blurs at the edges as waves of pleasure roll through you. Jennie doesn't pull away, keeping perfect suction as you come. She swallows around you, the motion extending your pleasure until you're gripping her shoulders to stay upright.

She keeps going until you're too sensitive, until you have to gently push at her shoulders. Only then does she finally release you, looking up with satisfaction in her eyes. A small drop of white clings to her bottom lip before her tongue darts out to catch it.

She reaches for your discarded shirt and wipes her mouth and hands, casual as if she'd just finished a meal. The sight of her using your clothes like this only adds to the intimacy.

Jennie rises to her feet in one fluid motion, her body unfolding before you. She's petite but perfectly proportioned - slim waist, delicate shoulders, toned legs that seem to go on forever despite her height. Standing there in just her knee-high socks and garter, her small, perky breasts catch the dim light. Her skin has a golden glow against the darkness of the room.

She steps between your legs, looking down at you with hooded eyes. Her slender fingers reach for your chin, tilting your face up to meet hers. The gesture is possessive, almost commanding. She leans down, her straight dark hair falling forward to frame both your faces, creating a private world. Her lips find yours, softer now but still hungry. You taste yourself on her tongue, salt and skin.

"I'm not done with you," she whispers against your lips. "You brought me here. We're gonna make the most of it." Her fingertips trace your jawline before she steps back, grabbing your hand to pull you toward the bed.

As you follow her across the room, the city sounds filter through the windows – car horns, distant music, the constant hum of life that never stops. The soft lighting catches on her skin, giving it a warm glow that makes you want to touch her all over again.

As you follow her across the room, the city sounds filter through the windows – car horns, distant music, the constant hum of life that never stops. The soft lighting catches on her skin, giving it a warm glow that makes you want to touch her all over again.

Jennie moves onto the bed with natural grace. The curve of her spine draws your eye down to where her waist narrows before flaring into her hips. The small black thong she still wears cuts across her skin, the thin fabric disappearing between her cheeks in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

She positions herself in the center of the bed, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She folds her legs into a 'W' shape, showcasing their length despite her petite frame. The knee-high socks create a striking contrast against her bare thighs. The entire pose is an invitation you could never refuse.

Her hands begin to move across her own body, touching herself with slow confidence. She traces circles around her small breasts, fingers dancing across her skin with a self-assurance that's hypnotic to watch. In the dim light, every movement feels like it's meant just for you.

You notice how different she looks now compared to when she arrived at your door. Her carefully applied makeup is smudged around her eyes. Her hair, once smooth and perfect, is wild from your hands. She looks beautifully undone, more real somehow, and even more stunning for it.

She runs a finger across her lips, still swollen from taking you in her mouth. Then trails it down her neck and over her chest, drawing your eye along the path.

"Come here," she says, her voice low but commanding. She rolls onto her back, her body a landscape of curves and shadows in the half-light.

Though still wearing her thong, the thin black fabric does little to hide what's underneath. As you move closer to the bed, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband and slides it down her legs with deliberate slowness. The last barrier between you disappears as she kicks it aside.

With the same unhurried confidence, Jennie reaches down and uses her fingers to part herself. The gesture is both vulnerable and bold – showing you exactly what you've been missing all these months. Even in the dim light, you can see how wet she is, glistening with want.

You climb onto the bed, feeling the expensive sheets against your palms. The fabric is cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. The mattress gives slightly under your weight as you move between her legs.

Jennie is breathtaking beneath you. Her skin has a slight sheen in the low light, catching the glow from the bedside lamp. Her dark hair fans out against the white pillows, framing a face that's haunted your dreams for months. Her chest rises and falls with quickening breaths, her small breasts topped with hardened nipples that beg for your touch.

But you're not rushing this. Not after all these months apart.

You start at her ankles, where the knee-high socks still cling to her calves. Your lips press against the delicate bone there, feeling her pulse beneath the skin. She watches you through half-lidded eyes as you work your way higher, placing open-mouthed kisses up her calf.

When you reach the top of her sock, you peel it down slowly, revealing more of her skin inch by inch. The newly exposed flesh gets special attention – your lips, your tongue, even the gentle scrape of teeth that makes her shiver.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but there's no impatience in her voice, just wonder.

"Appreciating the view," you murmur against her knee. "Been thinking about this body for months."

You move to her other leg, giving it the same treatment – slow, deliberate kisses that make her skin prickle with goosebumps. Your hands slide up her thighs as your mouth follows, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch.

Her inner thighs are softer, more sensitive. When your tongue traces the crease where leg meets hip, she gasps, her fingers flexing against the sheets. The scent of her arousal is stronger here, making your mouth water.

You detour, moving up to kiss her stomach, the dip of her navel, the subtle ridges of her ribs. Each breath she takes makes her abdomen rise and fall beneath your lips. You work your way to her breasts, taking your time with each one – circling the nipple with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth, feeling it harden further.

"Owen," she sighs, arching into your touch.

Your hands never stop moving, exploring every inch of her like you're memorizing her by touch alone. The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the softness of her sides – all of it perfect, all of it Jennie.

You make your way back down, leaving a trail of kisses from her sternum to her stomach. Her breathing quickens as you move lower, anticipation making her shift restlessly beneath you. When you reach the neat strip of dark hair between her legs, you pause, looking up to meet her eyes.

"You're fucking beautiful," you say, your voice rougher than intended.

Her eyes soften for just a moment before that familiar challenge returns. "Are you going to stare all night, or are you going to do something about it?"

You answer by settling between her legs, pushing her thighs wider. You can't help but stare at the view before you. There's something almost reverent in how you look at her – taking in every detail, every curve and shadow. Her thighs part further, an invitation that needs no words. Between her legs, you notice she's not completely bare – a neat, dark landing strip of hair points down like an arrow, the contrast of it against her skin making your mouth water.

The scent of her hits you first – warm and musky and distinctly Jennie. You breathe her in, letting it flood your senses and cloud your thoughts. Nothing exists but this bed, this woman, this moment.

You lower your head slowly, maintaining eye contact until the last possible second. The first broad stroke of your tongue makes her gasp. You take your time, exploring her with long, flat licks that cover her entirely. Her taste is familiar yet new – sweet and tangy and addictive. You could drown here and die happy.

"Fuck," she breathes, her hips already lifting slightly to meet your mouth.

You switch to softer, more focused touches, tracing her folds with the tip of your tongue. Each pass draws different sounds from her – soft sighs that gradually build to more urgent moans. You map her with your mouth, relearning what makes her breath catch, what makes her thighs shake.

When you find her clit, you circle it slowly, teasingly, not giving her the direct pressure you know she craves. Her fingers find your hair, tightening in frustration.

"Don't tease me," she warns, but there's no real threat in her voice – just desire strained to its breaking point.

You smile against her before giving in, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. The reaction is immediate – her back arches off the bed, a strangled curse falling from her lips.

Your free hand slides up her body, finding the toned plane of her stomach. You press down firmly, holding her in place as your mouth works against her. The contrast of your hand on her abs while your tongue explores her most sensitive areas makes her writhe beneath you.

She's getting wetter, her arousal coating your chin as you work. You move your tongue in circles, then switch to quick flicks across her clit that make her thighs tremble. Each change in pressure or rhythm pulls new sounds from her throat.

"Oh god, right there," she gasps when you find a particularly sensitive spot.

You slip a finger inside her, feeling her heat clench around you immediately. She's impossibly tight and wet, her body welcoming the intrusion. You curl your finger to find that spot that always drove her crazy. When you find it, her whole body jerks like she's been shocked.

"Right there," she gasps. "Don't stop."

You add a second finger, stretching her gently while continuing to work her clit with your mouth. The combination makes her hips buck wildly against your face. Her hands tighten in your hair, pulling almost painfully.

With each thrust of your fingers, you quicken the tempo, driving deeper into her. Her muscles clench around you rhythmically, like she's trying to pull you further in. Your tongue never stops its assault on her clit, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention.

"Owen," she moans, her voice breaking. "I'm so close."

You pull back just enough to look up at her, your fingers still working inside her. "You still think about this when you're with him?" The question slips out before you can stop it. Your thumb replaces your tongue, circling her clit as you watch her face.

She glares down at you, but her body betrays her, clenching around your fingers. "You're such a dick."

"But you're here anyway," you say, curling your fingers against that spot that makes her whole body jerk. "In my bed, not his."

Her breath catches. "Shut up."

You lower your head again, sucking her clit between your lips while adding a third finger. The stretch makes her gasp, her back arching. You can feel her getting closer – her thighs tensing, her breathing becoming irregular. Her entire body is flushed with heat, a thin sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the dim light.

You establish a relentless rhythm – fingers pumping while your tongue works her clit. The wet sounds of your movements fill the room, mixing with her increasingly desperate moans.

Just as she's about to peak, you ease back, slowing down just enough to keep her on the edge.

"Tell me you missed this," you say against her inner thigh, your breath hot on her wet skin.

"Don't stop," she pleads, hips lifting to chase your mouth.

You stay just out of reach. "Tell me no one does this like I do."

Her hands tighten in your hair, trying to force you back down. "I hate you," she says, but there's no conviction in it.

"No, you don't." You circle her entrance with your fingers, teasing but not pushing in. "Say it, Jennie."

She fights it for a moment, pride warring with desire. Then breaks. "No one does it like you do. Now please—" her voice cracks with need, "please don't stop."

The desperation in her voice sends heat through your entire body. You give her what she wants, diving back in with renewed hunger. Your tongue circles her clit rapidly while your fingers press firmly against that sweet spot inside her. The dual sensations push her toward the edge fast.

Her legs wrap around your head, thighs clamping against your ears as her body tenses. Your free hand reaches up to find her breast, pinching her nipple between your fingers. The added stimulation makes her cry out, her voice cracking with pleasure.

"Owen," she warns, her voice tight and strained. "I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," you command, increasing the pressure, the speed, giving her exactly what she needs.

Her breathing turns ragged, her moans more frantic. The muscles in her stomach tense under your hand as her body coils tight, ready to snap. Her inner walls clench rhythmically around your fingers, the first tremors of her orgasm beginning.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh—" Her words dissolve into a broken cry as it hits her. Her back arches high off the bed, her body going rigid. Her thighs shake violently around your head as waves of pleasure crash through her.

"Oh my God!" The words tear from her throat as her fingers pull painfully at your hair. Her body convulses beneath your mouth, wave after wave of pleasure washing over her. "You're so good at that, Owen."

She bites her lower lip hard, her neck straining as her hips jerk uncontrollably against your face. You don't let up, working her through the peak, extending her pleasure until she's gasping and writhing from the intensity.

The aftershocks ripple through her body like tremors, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. Only when she weakly pushes at your head, too sensitive to take any more, do you finally ease back. You place one last gentle kiss against her before resting your cheek on her inner thigh, looking up at her wrecked expression.

Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes closed, lips parted. She looks utterly spent, flushed and beautiful in her satisfaction.

After a moment, Jennie gathers herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looks down at you, her gaze dropping to your obvious arousal. Without a word, she reaches forward and spits on it, her saliva glistening as she begins to stroke you. You groan at the contact, your body responding instantly to her touch. You don't let up, working her through the orgasm, only easing the pressure when her hand pushes weakly against your head, oversensitive.

You place one last gentle kiss against her before resting your cheek on her inner thigh, looking up at her flushed face. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes closed, lips parted. She looks wrecked in the best possible way.

After a moment, Jennie gathers herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looks up at you, a predatory gleam replacing the post-orgasm haze in her eyes. Without warning, she reaches for your cock and spits on it, her saliva mixing with the wetness still coating her lips from going down on you earlier.

"Now," she says, voice raspy and demanding, "I'm going to fuck you."

She doesn't wait for your response, just straddles your hips and positions herself above you. Her thighs flex as she hovers, teasing you with the heat of her center just inches away from where you need it.

"Tell me how bad you want this," she demands, one hand flat against your chest for balance.

"Just get on my dick already," you growl, grabbing her hips to pull her down.

She resists, maintaining control. "Say please," she taunts, her eyes challenging you.

You nearly laugh. "Fuck you."

"That's the idea," she says with a wicked smile, then finally sinks down in one swift movement, taking you to the hilt.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you hiss as her heat surrounds you. She's impossibly tight after her orgasm, still pulsing slightly from the aftershocks.

"You're so fucking big," she gasps, adjusting to the stretch. There's no sweetness in her voice – just raw appreciation for how you fill her.

Jennie starts to move, not with gentle rises and falls but with demanding, forceful motions. Her thighs flex powerfully as she lifts herself almost completely off before slamming back down. Each drop makes a slapping sound that fills the room, punctuated by her sharp gasps.

The sight of her riding you is mesmerizing. Her small breasts bounce with each movement, nipples hard and dark against her golden skin. Her stomach muscles visibly tighten with each rise and fall, showing off the definition in her abs that she works so hard for. Her hair, now completely wild from your hands, whips around her shoulders as she moves.

"Touch my tits," she commands, grabbing your hands and placing them on her chest.

You squeeze roughly, pinching her nipples the way you remember she likes. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant column of her throat, a string of curses falling from her lips.

"Fucking hell, your cock feels so good," she says, grinding down hard. "Tell me you've missed this pussy."

"Every fucking day," you admit, thrusting up to meet her movements. The force of it nearly bounces her off you, but she adjusts her balance, her strong thighs gripping your sides.

She leans forward, her hands braced on your chest. The new angle lets her grind her clit against your pubic bone with each thrust. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent marks that burn. Her face hovers above yours, her hair creating a curtain around you both. Sweat beads along her hairline, one drop sliding down her temple to her jaw.

"No one fucks me like you do," she admits, the words sounding torn from her. "No one."

With a surge of need, you move between her thighs, pressing her into the mattress. Her legs wrap around your waist, drawing you closer. Your eyes lock as you drive into her, taking control of the pace.

"Fuck, I missed this tight pussy," you growl, watching her eyes flash at your words.

"Shut up and fuck me harder," she snaps back, digging her heels into your lower back.

You slam into her, setting a brutal pace that has the headboard cracking against the wall. Each thrust jolts her body up the bed, her hair splaying across the pillows like spilled ink. Her small breasts bounce with the impact, nipples hard and begging for attention.

Your hands move to her waist, fingers nearly meeting around her small frame. The contrast of your large hands against her tiny waist makes your head spin. You can feel her hip bones under your thumbs, the delicate architecture of her body beneath your palms.

"Like that? This how you want it?" Your voice is rough, almost unrecognizable with need.

"Yes—don't fucking stop," she gasps, her nails raking down your back hard enough to leave welts.

You lean down, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. Your tongues battle for dominance as your bodies slam together. The taste of her—sweet with a hint of salt from her sweat—fills your senses. You break away to trail bites down her neck, leaving marks that will remind her of this night long after you're gone.

She arches into you, offering more of herself. You take advantage, moving to her shoulder, then her arm, leaving a trail of bites and kisses along her skin. The salt of her sweat makes your head spin. When you reach the sensitive skin of her inner arm, she lets out a surprised gasp that turns into a deep moan.

"Oh fuck, don't stop," she pants as you run your tongue along the delicate skin of her armpit, tasting the most primal part of her.

In this position, you can see everything—her face contorting with each thrust, the way her stomach muscles tighten when you hit deep, how her lips part on silent screams when you find the perfect angle. Her hair sticks to her temples with sweat, dark strands clinging to her flushed skin.

Sweat makes your bodies slide together, the hotel room filling with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin. You grip her thigh, pushing it higher, opening her wider. The position stretches her leg up toward her chest, showing off the flexibility from her years of dance training.

"Harder," she demands, her voice breaking as you comply. "Fucking wreck me."

You reach down, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at you as you pound into her. Her eyes are wild, pupils blown with arousal. "This what you came here for? This what you needed?"

Her breathing changes, becoming more ragged. You recognize the signs—she's close again. You adjust your position slightly, hitting that spot inside her that you know drives her wild.

"There!" she cries out, her nails digging crescents into your shoulders.

You maintain the angle, the rhythm, watching her face as pleasure builds. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her body tenses beneath you, on the edge but not quite there.

"Let go," you urge, your thumb finding her clit. "Come for me again."

She shakes her head. "Not yet—not without you."

Something snaps in you at her words. Without warning, you pull out completely and flip her over in one rough motion. She gasps, surprised by the sudden movement as you manhandle her onto her hands and knees. Your hand lands hard on her ass, leaving a bright red handprint on her skin.

"Fuck!" she cries out, more in arousal than pain.

You grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back as you position yourself behind her. Sweat drips down your chest, landing on her back as you line yourself up. You can hear her panting, waiting, her thighs trembling slightly in anticipation.

"This what you want?" you growl against her ear, your chest pressed to her back, cock teasing her entrance.

"Yes," she hisses. "Give it to me."

You slam into her without further warning, burying yourself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The sound she makes is primal—half scream, half moan. Her arms nearly buckle under the force, but you hold her up with your grip on her hair.

"Fuck!" she cries out, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

You establish a punishing rhythm, each thrust making her entire body jerk forward. Her hair is wrapped tight around your fist like a leash, forcing her back to arch at a severe angle. Sweat makes your bodies slide together, your skin slapping against hers with obscene wet sounds. The musky scent of sex fills the air, heavy and intoxicating.

"Look at you taking it," you say, giving her ass another sharp slap that leaves a fresh handprint. "Always said you were made for this."

She looks back over her shoulder, her face a perfect picture of pleasure-pain, mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes. "Fuck you," she pants, but pushes back harder against you, contradicting her words.

The sight of her is overwhelming – her narrow waist flaring out to perfectly rounded hips, the elegant curve of her spine dipping then rising, her hair tangled in your fist. From this angle, you can see everything – the way her back hollows out, how her ass bounces against your hips, the glistening evidence of her arousal coating you both.

You lean forward, running your free hand up her side to roughly grab her breast. The position pushes you deeper, making her gasp. Your fingers find her nipple, pinching hard as you maintain your relentless pace.

"Oh god," she moans, her arms shaking from supporting her weight. "Don't stop."

Her body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, making her skin glow in the dim light. You can see the muscles in her back shifting beneath her skin with each impact, the way her shoulder blades move as she braces against your thrusts.

"Owen," she warns, voice strained with need. "I'm so close."

Her words push you closer to the edge. You increase your pace, chasing both her pleasure and your own. Each thrust now has purpose, driving deeper, harder. You can feel the pressure building at the base of your spine, your control slipping with every sound she makes.

"I'm close too," you admit, rhythm becoming erratic. "I'm gonna cum."

Her body tenses beneath you, muscles tightening as she approaches her peak. You can feel it building—the way she clenches around you, the trembling in her thighs, her increasingly desperate sounds.

"Oh my God, Owen!" she cries out, her voice breaking on your name. "Fill me up!"

Her orgasm crashes through her—you feel it in the way her body convulses, in how she rhythmically tightens around you, in the broken sounds that escape her throat. The sensation of her pulsing around you pushes you over the edge.

Your release hits with an intensity that whites out your vision—powerful, overwhelming, unstoppable. You empty yourself inside her, every pulse accompanied by a wave of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Her body milks you, drawing out every last sensation until you're both trembling from the force of it.

As the intensity fades, you collapse beside her on the bed, pulling her close against you. Your arm wraps around her waist as you press gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder. Her body still trembles with small aftershocks, her breathing gradually slowing to normal.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds in the room are your labored breathing and the distant city noise filtering through the windows. Sweat cools on your skin, making you shiver slightly. Despite the roughness of what just happened, she turns toward you with unexpected tenderness, her small hand coming up to cup your cheek.

She presses her forehead against yours, eyes closed, just breathing you in. A small, almost inaudible snort escapes her as she tries to catch her breath – a startlingly human sound that cuts through the haze of post-sex euphoria. It makes her seem more real somehow, more Jennie than the polished celebrity the world knows.

Her chest still rises and falls rapidly, her heartbeat a quick rhythm you can feel where your bodies press together. Her fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, moving from your chest to your shoulder and back again. It's these quiet moments that always feel more dangerous than the sex – this gentle intimacy that makes you think of what could have been.

"Shit," she finally whispers, a small laugh bubbling up. She looks slightly dazed, her makeup completely ruined, hair a tangled mess. "I forgot how good we are at that."

You brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The gesture is too tender for what this is supposed to be, but you can't help yourself. "Some things you don't forget."

She looks into your eyes and you see a complex mix of satisfaction and something deeper—a longing that mirrors your own. Her hair sticks to her face in damp strands, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light. Even like this—especially like this—she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

As she lies in your arms, her breathing gradually steadying, you can't help but think about what might have been between you in another life—one where you could stay instead of always leaving. One where "one night only" wasn't all you ever had.

---

Hours later, once you’re sure she’s asleep, you slip out of the bed. The sheets make a soft sound as you untangle yourself from her limbs. She doesn't stir.

The hotel room feels different at 3 AM. Quieter. The luxury that seemed impressive earlier now feels hollow, just expensive emptiness. You find your sweatpants on the floor where she pulled them off you hours ago.

The balcony door slides open with a whisper. Thirty floors up, the city spreads out like someone spilled light across black velvet. You light a cigarette, cupping your hand against the wind even though there's no one here to see the brief flare of your lighter.

Inside, Jennie sleeps. Her small body barely disturbs the white sheets. In the dim light filtering from the bathroom, you can see the marks you left on her neck, her shoulders. Evidence that you were here. That this happened.

She belongs to someone else now. The thought should bother you more than it does. Maybe you're just used to it - this pattern of coming together briefly, then separating again. Maybe you've convinced yourself it's better this way.

You take a deep drag, feeling the burn in your lungs. It's cold out here in just sweatpants, but the chill feels necessary after the heat of her body against yours for hours.

You've never been good at staying. It's not a point of pride, just a fact, like your height or the sound of your voice. Commitment feels like drowning to you, always has. You've tried to explain this to her before. She said she understood, but the way she looked at you afterward told a different story.

Below, taxis crawl along streets like yellow insects. People spill out of late-night bars, laughing too loud. The city that never sleeps. You'll be gone from it tomorrow. Another show, another hotel room indistinguishable from this one.

You wonder if her boyfriend knows where she is tonight. If he senses something when she slips back into their shared life tomorrow. If he can somehow smell you on her skin despite the shower she'll take before going home.

The cigarette burns down to your fingers. You flick it over the edge, watching its orange tip tumble into darkness.

Jennie knows you better than anyone. This is the thought that keeps you up at night in cities whose names you sometimes forget. She knows your body, your sounds, the things that make you come undone. Worse, she knows the parts of yourself you try to hide from everyone else.

A melody forms in your head. Something slow and hazy, like smoke curling off a cigarette. Words follow naturally - about being in town just for one night. About needing her. About the room you got for just the two of you.

You mouth the words silently, testing how they feel:

I'm in town for one night,

one night only

I came around to put it down, for one night only

Your fans will think it's just another song about sex. They won't know about the way Jennie looked at you when she came. How her body felt like coming home. How you're already planning when you can see her again, even as you tell yourself this was the last time.

Just one night

Got a room for me and you, for one night only

You wanna ride for a lifetime, this is one night only

The song takes shape in your mind, already feeling like a hit. Your producer will love it. Your label will push it. No one will know it's about her. No one except Jennie, if she ever hears it.

The city is turning blue at the edges when you finally go back inside. Morning approaching. Soon you'll have to leave for the airport, for the next city, the next crowd.

Jennie hasn't moved. You slide in beside her, your skin cold from the night air. She makes a small sound in her sleep and shifts toward your body heat, instinctively seeking you out. Her hand finds your chest, rests over your heart.

You wonder what she'd say if you asked her to come with you to Toronto. You won't ask. You both know the routine by now.

One night only. It's never enough. It's all you can handle.

END.

[luvoooenha]

Lucky charm!

Pairing- Boyfriend! Jake x Girlfriend! Y/N

Summary- Jake, the top soccer player at UNI, always relied on Y/N’s support—until a huge argument left him distracted before a big game. Without her in the stands, he struggled to play, missing shots and worrying his team. Realizing how much he needed her, a teammate called Y/N, who debated but ultimately showed up, looking her best. The moment Jake saw her, his focus returned, and he played like himself again. After the game, they made up, proving that Y/N was truly his lucky charm.

Warnings- FLUFF, FLUFF, FLUFF, anger, angst, arguments, happy couple… (jokes! Not really)

Word count- 1.8k

plsplsplsplsplspls dont copyyy my work!

“You don’t get it, Y/N!” Jake’s voice was sharp, frustration thick in every word.

“Then explain it to me, Jake! Because right now, it feels like I’m the only one trying.” Y/N’s arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her voice shaking between anger and hurt.

Jake let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t care? That I don’t appreciate you?”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “Jake, I’ve been to every single game, every late-night practice, every stupid press conference where they ask you the same questions. And not once have I ever complained.” Her voice broke slightly, but she pushed on. “But the second I bring up how I feel, I’m the bad guy?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The look in her eyes—raw and filled with unshed tears—made his chest tighten.

“I can’t keep doing this if you don’t want me here, Jake.”

His stomach twisted. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. But his stupid pride got in the way, and instead of telling her the truth—that he needed her more than anything—he muttered, “Maybe it’s better that way.”

The second the words left his lips, he wanted to take them back.

Y/N’s face fell, her jaw tightening as she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away.

Jake stood frozen, watching her disappear into the night.

He had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

-

The silence between them was louder than anything Jake had ever experienced.

Y/N hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t shown up to practice.

Jake told himself he was fine. That he could focus better without distractions. But when game day rolled around, it hit him like a freight train.

He jogged onto the field, scanning the stands on instinct. But the seat where she always sat—third row, left side, just behind the team bench—was empty.

His stomach clenched.

He tried to shake it off as the game started, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His passes were off. His speed felt sluggish. Every shot he took either hit the post, went wide, or was blocked by the keeper.

The frustration built with every mistake, weighing him down like lead.

The final whistle blew, and UNI had lost. Jake barely heard the post-game speech from his coach, too busy replaying every missed opportunity in his head.

When he got back to the locker room, he didn’t even bother taking off his cleats right away. He just sat there, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.

Jay, his closest teammate, nudged him. “Dude. What’s going on?”

Jake exhaled slowly. “Nothing. Just an off day.”

Jay scoffed. “Nah, man. This is more than that. I’ve never seen you play like this.” He paused. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Jay sighed. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but it’s obvious you’re a wreck without her.”

Jake clenched his jaw. “She’s probably better off.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Yeah? Then why do you keep looking for her in the stands?”

Jake said nothing.

Jay grabbed his phone. “I’m texting her.”

Jake should’ve stopped him. Should’ve told him to leave it alone.

But he didn’t.

Y/N sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, as she mindlessly scrolled through her camera roll. Each swipe brought a new memory, a new reminder of everything she and Jake had been before it all fell apart.

There was a photo of him grinning at her during one of their late-night study sessions, his notes forgotten as he balanced a pencil between his nose and upper lip, trying to make her laugh. She had rolled her eyes at the time, but she could still remember the way her stomach had fluttered when he looked at her like she was the best part of his world.

Another picture—Jake, covered in sweat but grinning like a fool after a big win, his arm slung lazily around her shoulders. She had been laughing, caught mid-cheer, his jersey draped over her like a second skin. She had been so proud of him. She always was.

And then, one of her favorites—a candid shot of them from a lazy Sunday morning. Jake, shirtless and half-asleep, stealing bites of her breakfast as she swatted at his hand, laughing at his shamelessness. His hair had been a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but he had looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s chest ached.

She missed him. More than she wanted to admit.

Her fingers hovered over his contact, the familiar urge to text him creeping in. But then, like a cruel reminder, his words echoed in her head.

"Maybe it’s better that way."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, locking her phone. If that was what he wanted, then fine. She wouldn’t be the one to break first.

But then, as if the universe was laughing at her stubbornness, her phone buzzed.

Jay: Jake’s a mess. He needs you. Badly.

Her heart clenched.

She should ignore it. He was the one who pushed her away. He was the one who made her feel like she didn’t matter.

But… if that were true, why was he struggling so much?

Y/N exhaled slowly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed her, filled with something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

She could walk away. Let Jake figure this out on his own. Prove to herself that she didn’t need him as much as he needed her.

But that was a lie.

Because no matter how angry or hurt she was… she still loved him.

And she wasn’t sure she ever wouldn’t.

With a resigned sigh, she grabbed her jacket and touched up her makeup.

If she was going, she was going to make an entrance.

She headed out the door, her heart pounding.

Jake needed her.

And whether she liked it or not… she needed him too.

-

Jake jogged onto the field, his mind clouded with doubt.

His body felt heavy, his nerves shot. The last few games had been a disaster, and the weight of failure clung to him like a storm he couldn’t outrun. He tried to shake it off, stretching his arms and bouncing on his feet, but nothing felt right.

Then, instinctively, he looked toward the stands.

And everything stopped.

His breath hitched. His heart stuttered.

Y/N was there.

Sitting in her usual spot—third row, left side, just behind the team bench.

Jake blinked, half-convinced he was imagining it. But no, it was real. She was real.

And damn, she looked good.

Her hair was styled just the way he liked, her makeup subtle but stunning. She wore his favorite shade, the one he always said made her eyes stand out, and even from across the field, he could see the way her lips curved in something between challenge and amusement.

She came.

A rush of energy shot through his veins, the kind he hadn’t felt since before she left. His pulse pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves—it was from something deeper, something electric.

His lucky charm had returned.

And just like that, everything clicked back into place.

The whistle blew, and Jake was unstoppable.

Every pass was precise, every shot powerful. He weaved through defenders with the confidence he’d been missing, his movements sharp and deliberate. The frustration that had been drowning him for days melted away, replaced by pure instinct.

And every time he scored, he didn’t look at the scoreboard. He didn’t look at his teammates.

He looked at her.

Y/N sat there, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed. But he saw the way her lips twitched, the way her fingers tapped against her thigh. She was proud of him—he knew it.

By the final whistle, UNI had secured the win. The crowd erupted in cheers, his teammates swarming him with congratulations, but Jake barely acknowledged any of it.

His eyes were locked on her.

Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the stands, pushing past the crowd. Y/N had already started making her way down toward the field, and when she stopped in front of him, they just stood there, staring at each other.

For the first time in days, Jake could breathe again.

“I was an idiot.” His voice was breathless, raw. “I didn’t mean any of it, Y/N. I was just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “I was scared. Of how much I need you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed. “Yeah? I figured, considering how hard you flopped without me.”

Jake huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I deserved that.”

“Damn right, you did.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, but Jake didn’t miss the way her tough exterior wavered, the way her eyes softened just slightly.

He took a step closer. “Y/N, I mean it. I never should’ve pushed you away.” His voice dropped to something quieter, more vulnerable. “You’re everything to me.”

She sighed, finally uncrossing her arms. “Jake… you can’t shut me out when things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

“I know,” he admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. “And I won’t. Ever again.”

Y/N studied him for a long moment, and then, finally, she sighed in defeat. “You’re lucky I like you, Sim.”

Relief crashed over him, and before she could say anything else, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms arowund her and pulling her in tight.

She hesitated for half a second before melting into him, her arms circling his waist.

Jake buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume, and everything felt right again. “I missed you,” he murmured.

“I know,” she teased, voice muffled against his jersey. “I could tell from your embarrassing game stats.”

He chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Guess I need you to keep me in check.”

“Clearly.”

Jake reached up, brushing his thumb over her cheek, his voice softer now. “So… does this mean you’ll be at the next game?”

Y/N smirked. “As long as you keep winning.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering, “Then I guess I have no choice.”

Because she wasn’t just his biggest supporter.

She was his lucky charm.

-

OMG TYSM FOR 500 NOTES! (I didn't even think this was good...)

isa note! - lallalala first story!!! lalalall so excited! lalalalalla

taglist~ @firstclassjaylee

if wanted to be tag plspslplspsls let me know! 💗

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