#at recognizing my irritation and WHY i’m irritated

[wintrbears]

All is Fair | JJK

Summary: The Dragons, led by your brother, occupy the East side of the city while the Wolves occupy the West. There is only one rule, and technically, you didn't mean to break it. Stay away from the Wolves.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Namjoon x Seokjin (only by reference)

Genre: Biker Gang AU, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, Romeo and Juliet, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut, Fluff (if you close one eye and tilt your phone)

Word Count: 20.4k+

Warnings: minor character death, major character death (not jk or oc), murder, graphic suicidal ideation, dead bodies, depression, reference to drunk driving, orphans/orphaning, running away from home, stealing, beatings, punching, kicking, screaming, crying, nightmares, night terrors, stitches, punctured lungs, major physical injuries, facial scars, hospitals, piercings, tattoos, graduate school, libraries, studying, blood, guns/gunshot, knives, gang violence, motorcycles, gay men(?), rivalries, drinking, pet names (baby, pretty, bug (non-romantic)). SMUT: kissing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (she's on bc), cream pie, coming on skin, cum eating/feeding, choking, spanking, spitting, dick riding, missionary, doggy, big dick!jk bc I always strive for accuracy, masturbation (m), grief sex, semi-public sex, ok that's all folks lmk if I missed any.

Author’s Note: I actually cannot believe I didn't write for two years and then pumped out almost 40k words in a single week. My fiancé misses me, you guys. But anyway this fic... oh this fic. It's very heavy but my entire heart is buried in this so I really hope you take the time to read it. Every single character (member?) means so much to me and I hope you come to love it as much as I do. P.S. for plot reasons JK doesn't have any hand tattoos you'll see what I mean. OK pls lmk what you think it makes my heart so happy bye love you :)

When you inevitably fail your exam, no one will be to blame except your brother and his delinquent friends. The noise-canceling headphones he gifted you last Christmas are doing fuck all against the pounding bass of their music downstairs. They’re the expensive kind, too. You know because they still had the security tag on them Christmas morning. He broke it off with pliers before handing them back to you with a dimpled smile. 

Finally having enough, you stomp down the stairs to confront your irritability at the source. Not many of them are home tonight. Just Namjoon and his three closest underlings: Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok. He’s the youngest among them and somehow still wound up the leader.

The Dragons, your brother’s notorious motorcycle gang, are far greater in number than the four downstairs. Ten bikers live here at the house with you, but when the gang rides in total there’s about twenty five men. There are some drifters, but no matter the number they are a force to be reckoned with on the road. 

“Hey,” you yell over the music. 

Namjoon gestures for Hoseok to turn it down and ushers you forward with a wave of his hand.

“What’s up, bug?” 

“Can you please keep it down? I’m trying to study,” you answer. 

“Oh, we’re sorry,” Seokjin responds. “You were so quiet we forgot you were up there. You’re usually down here annoying us.”

You roll your eyes. The four of them have been friends for the better part of a decade. They’re the only gang members allowed to tease you. If someone else tries it, Namjoon takes their head. 

Your brother is extremely protective of you without being controlling. You appreciate his ability to recognize your adulthood while still wanting to keep you from harm. You can attest without a shadow of a doubt that Namjoon will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. His determination to protect you is how you wound up with the Dragons in the first place.

“Why don’t you go over to your study buddy’s house?” Hoseok suggests. 

Right… your study buddy they still believe is a woman. The study buddy they assume helps you study instead of fucking you dumb. 

“We don’t study at her house. We study at the library.”

This is a partial lie. You “study” at the library, in his car, in the school janitorial closet, and anywhere else he can get his hands on you. Ironically, your grades have never been better. Call it a lack of stress.

“We’ll keep it down, bug,” Namjoon assures you. “Sorry.”

Once you communicate your appreciation, you travel upstairs again to continue studying. You hear the music turn back on, but this time at a much lower volume. 

Phone lighting up on your desk, you lean over to see a familiar name. Jungkook’s ears must’ve been ringing because there’s a photo of his finished study guide on your screen. You reply to his text complaining that you’re not even halfway done yet before turning your phone over so you can actually focus. 

You didn’t predict meeting someone like Jungkook this year, or ever, really. When this semester of your Master’s program began you weren’t looking for anything, especially not a fuck buddy. You only ask Jungkook to be your study buddy in the first place because he’s the smartest person in your class by a long shot. Coincidentally, you only spend the early months of the semester as study buddies before advancing to fuck buddies. Sometimes you still actually study together, but it’s few and far between. 

Despite Jungkook thoroughly wrecking your body every time he touches it, he’s probably the nicest guy you’ve ever met. No matter the hour he’ll answer questions about assignments or explain complex topics you can’t wrap your head around. He lends pencils to strangers and one time you swear you saw him saving a cat from a tree.

You still remember the first time you laid eyes on him. 

It’s brutally hot for the first day of class. The city is scorching with record-breaking temperatures even in September. The vents are located at the back of the large classroom so you find an empty desk in the back corner to occupy. 

You’re preparing for the first lecture by placing your essentials on the desk and plugging in the charger for your laptop. Distracting yourself with color-coordinating your highlighters, you miss most people entering the room. 

Someone upstairs is looking out for you, though, because when you glance at the entrance it’s at the exact moment an absolute Adonis is walking in. He has wavy black hair that just kisses his cheekbones but is longer in the back, huge starry brown eyes, a button nose, and pretty pink lips accompanied by a tiny mole just under the bottom one. He’s wearing a long-sleeve white shirt, baggy jeans, and big black combat boots. To make matters worse he’s sporting black half-rim glasses. 

You quickly realize your mistake in gawking at him because he makes eye contact with you, thus giving him permission to take the seat next to you. Precisely as the unspoken rules of classroom etiquette dictate.  

He greets you with an amicable bow before plopping in the chair that shares your desk space. Using your peripheral vision you watch him lay out his supplies and open his laptop. 

You’re wearing a crop top and are still too warm, so you’re downright shocked at his outfit choice. He doesn’t even roll his sleeves up.

“Are you hot?”

The words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them. 

Your companion looks at you, eyes wide, questioning whether you’re talking to him or not. When he realizes you are, he glances down at his attire. Then he chuckles.

“That’s a bit forward, don’t ya think?” 

If you could crawl into a hole and die, you would. 

“I didn’t mean it like —” 

He’s cutting you off with a wave of his hand as he laughs off the miscommunication. There’s an awkward silence before he continues the conversation. 

“To answer your question, yes I am,” he says. “Not like that, though.” He winks at you and it takes everything in you not to audibly moan. 

Despite him admitting to being warm he does nothing to remedy it. You’re not his mother nor his girlfriend so you don’t question him.

That’s the last time you speak that day, but over the course of a few weeks you partake in small talk and learn each other’s names. 

You initially ask him to study together the week prior to your first exam. He enthusiastically agrees and you settle on a time before exchanging numbers. The study sessions continue on a weekly basis even once you take the exam. 

The night your relationship shifts into uncharted territory is one you’ll never forget. 

Jungkook is sitting beside you as he copies notes from a PowerPoint lecture into his notebook. The sound of his pencil scribbling on the paper is familiar now. You're absentmindedly scrolling through last week’s readings to find your previous highlights. The professor surprised you today by announcing there would be a quiz on the article and now you need to re-familiarize yourself with it. 

Leaning back in the chair with a huff, you cross your arms over your chest. Jungkook peeks at you from behind his hair. He chuckles before setting his pencil down.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t wanna do this anymore,” you pout. Jungkook coos at you sarcastically and you hit his arm with your shirt sleeve in protest. “Shut up, nerd.”

“What do you wanna do instead, huh?” 

You eye him from your position until you find an answer. Rather than verbally replying you lean forward and gently steal the glasses from his face. You slip them on and glance around the library to see if you can tell the difference. 

“Damn you are — oh.”

Any semblance of thought dies within you the second you look at him again. Like an actual comic book character, removing his glasses magically gives him a Clark Kent to Superman-esque makeover. He’s sitting taller with his shoulders back, his doe eyes are sharp and dark, and instead of his normal dorky smile he’s smirking at you. You actually look around again to see if he stood up and someone took his place.

To be frank, you aren’t entirely sure what happens next. One moment you’re at the table together and the next you’re in the Historical Fiction section and Jungkook is on his knees pushing your skirt up and pulling your panties down so he can make out with your cunt. 

The worst part is that amongst the chaos, you’re still wearing his fucking glasses. In fact they rest on your nose through the whole ordeal, all the way until you’re coming on his tongue with a cry of his name. He doesn’t take them back until he’s rising to face you and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Thus begins your first ever situationship, although that doesn’t seem entirely correct. You and Jungkook aren’t in that weird headspace where neither of you know what the other wants. You mutually agree it’s just sex until someone decides to either move on or move up to boyfriend and girlfriend status. 

The latter option is definitely tempting. Jungkook treats you well and fucks you even better. Which are pretty much the only two prerequisites you have for a relationship. But your current dependence on the Dragons prevents you from choosing that route. 

There’s a knock on your door which pulls you from your reverie. Namjoon’s face peaks around the corner.

“We’re heading out to deal with some Wolves. Be back soon,” he informs you. 

“Be safe,” you reply. 

He assures you that he will before shutting your door. Anxiety flickers awake in your stomach and travels through your nervous system. Of all the gang activity that surrounds you, this is the shit you hate the most. Stupid boys doing stupid boy things. 

The Dragons occupy all the territory East of the large river which slices your city in half. The territory on the West side of the river is owned by the Wolves. There are straggler factions and out-of-towners who sometimes come into the fold, but they’re nowhere near the size of the two gangs. Naturally, the Dragons and the Wolves despise one another and their history dates back long before Namjoon became the leader. He inherited the rivalry amongst many other responsibilities and now he perpetuates it without knowing why it exists in the first place.

You already know when you see Namjoon tomorrow he’ll have split knuckles and bruises on his skin. It makes you sick to your stomach. This life is far beneath what your brother deserves and what he’s capable of. You want so much more for him and for yourself as well. Getting your Master’s degree is the first step in liberating you both from all the violence and decay which surrounds you. Namjoon risked everything to save you as children, and you vow to return the favor one day, even if it kills you. 

Contrary to popular belief, you don’t fail your exam the next day. In fact, you leave the classroom with a spring in your step now that your stressor is behind you. 

Jungkook watches you ahead of him with a twinkle of admiration in his eyes as you skip towards the parking lot. 

“You know, we’ve been doing this for a while now and I’ve never even been to your place,” you say.

“My place…” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I don’t think you’ll like it very much.”

“Why not?” You stop short and cause Jungkook to barrel into you. “Hold on, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you? Or wait, do you still live with your mom or something?”

“No, mom’s gone,” he answers. 

You turn around to face him when you hear his response. He’s saying it nonchalantly but his eyes are swimming with sadness and maybe even guilt. 

“Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you reply. He shakes his head, waving your condolences away before reaching out to pick a fallen leaf from your hair. 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago,” he adds. “And no, no girlfriend. Only you, pretty.”

“So then…” You rock back on your heels. “Can I see your place? I promise I’m not judgmental like that. I mean, there’s a reason you’ve never been to my place, either.”

Jungkook thinks it over for a moment as he drags you by the hand towards his car. 

“Not yet,” he finally answers. “Soon, hopefully.” 

You accept his response albeit a little disappointedly. It’s not even about you getting into his business like that, you’re just sick of the tight spaces the two of you are forced to hook up in. You’ve never even seen the guy fully naked before because you’re always pulling your clothes aside just enough to get the job done. 

He denies it but you know he’s got abs under there and you’re dying to finally get your mouth on them. 

Sure, you complain, but when he opens his car door for you to climb into his backseat you’re doing so without another word. 

You don’t fuck right away because the parking lot is still packed and you’re not trying to catch a charge. Namjoon would kill you before you even get the chance to stand before a judge. 

Instead, Jungkook shows you his newest Pokémon game on his Switch and hands it over to you so you can play. You giggle as your adorable water type does its victory dance after demolishing your opponent. Jungkook watches over your shoulder and directs you when to block and which attacks to use. Somehow, it all feels more intimate than when his cock is in your mouth. 

Which is precisely where you two end up about an hour later when the surrounding cars have all left. 

Jungkook’s backseat isn’t big enough for you to kneel on the floorboards so he’s lounging across the seats with you kneeling between his legs. You honestly prefer this position because the leather is far more forgiving to your knees than the carpet. His pants and boxers are around his thighs as you bob your head up and down his beautifully large and veiny cock. 

Your man is a head pusher through and through and so you welcome the familiar feeling of his fingers against your scalp as he guides you deeper until your nose is brushing his pelvis. He doesn’t force you down around him or fuck his hips into you. The grasp on your hair is moreso for control and because he loves to feel you while you pleasure him. 

You gag when his tip touches the back of your throat and you stay there for a moment, letting him feel you swallow around him before returning to his tip and swirling your tongue around it. Keeping your tongue out so it caresses the underside while you move up and down, you continue your movements at a steady pace.

Jungkook groans, his head hitting the window with a dull thud. 

“Oh, pretty, you have no idea the things you do to me,” he praises. He uses his grip on you to make you look at him. You moan around his cock when your eyes meet and he yanks on your hair in appreciation. “S’fucking good.”

This man loves a good blowjob and you love to please him. Every time you’re on your knees for him he praises and worships you and your sweet mouth for the euphoria they bring him. He tastes delicious on your tongue and if not for your human need to inhale, you would go all night. 

It only takes a couple more messy slides of your tongue down his shaft and your hand playing with his balls before he’s coming down your throat in thick, hot spurts of white. You swallow every last drop, continuing to move your mouth from his head to the base, before finally coming up for some much needed air. 

Sitting back on your heels, you place your hands in the space between your knees and bat your eyelashes at him. You know he likes it when you look all innocent despite the nasty things you do together. If things were different, if you were able to be with him in the confines of a bedroom and savor your time together, you’d put on a pretty white set with bows all over just to drive him crazy. 

Jungkook clocks your behavior with a tilt of his head, his tongue pushing against his cheek before he yanks you back and flips you over so your ass is facing him. His hand slowly traverses your back before stopping between your shoulder blades to push your face into the leather. You arch your back for him and wiggle your ass to really get him going. You can’t see him anymore but you hear the fond, deep chuckle. He pulls down your tights and panties in one go before flipping your skirt up so he can see you properly. 

He grabs your ass in his big hands and pulls your cheeks apart to spit on your hole. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of it dripping down your folds. Hips pushing back against his hands, Jungkook just laughs at your neediness before slapping your ass.

“Oh fuck,” you curse. 

He tsks at you disapprovingly. 

“You that cock drunk, pretty? I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says. 

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

He bends down to lay across your back and bites on your earlobe before soothing it with his tongue. 

“C’mon, baby. You know I always take care of you.”

He doesn’t allow you to reply before he’s thrusting his cock in and nudging his head against your cervix. Your hands clutch desperately at his seats, fingernails making indentations in the leather, as he rears back before doing it all over again. This man makes you fucking delirious and you wonder if you’ll ever get enough. Lord knows no other man will ever successfully replicate the pleasure he provides you.

Jungkook’s pace is relentless and steadfast and it isn’t long before the friction of his cock sinking in and out of your walls brings you to a climax. He’s an overachiever, though, and he doesn’t let up even as he feels your pussy pulsating around him as you come. He soldiers on, tilting your hips to make you arch even further and send his cock deeper inside you. You feel him in your stomach and it has you drooling where your face is crushed against the seat. 

You pathetically moan out a sound that closely resembles his name as he abuses your hole.

Your next orgasm hits you much faster, riding the wave of your first to bring stars to your eyes yet again. Your cunt squeezes Jungkook impossibly tight when you come and it causes him to shoot his load inside you and stuff you full of him. This man’s cock is too good to ever be obstructed by a plastic barrier. You’re on birth control and neither of you sleep with anyone but each other, so raw it is. 

When you exit the car to move to the front seat, the stars have appeared in the sky. Jungkook drives you home, or what he believes is your home, and bids you goodnight. Once his car is out of sight, you pivot and walk the familiar route to your actual house. 

It’s normal for you to arrive home this late, even before you met Jungkook. Namjoon never questions where you’ve been or you were with, which you appreciate. He understands you need independence and will contact him if you’re ever in trouble. He doesn’t need to study your every move when he only has one rule for you, anyway: stay away from the Wolves.

The next day you're lounging in the living room with your ankles crossed where they rest over the arm of a chair. You’re reading for a different class than the one you share with Jungkook, trying to get the assignment done now so you can enjoy your night. 

Your peace and quiet is disturbed when Namjoon walks in looking supremely pissed off. His jaw is clenched and since his hair is pushed back you can see the veins popping out in his forehead.

“Joonie?” You call for him as you sit up. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking Wolves,” he growls. He paces back and forth a couple times before stopping in front of you. “We’re meeting at the river tonight. You need to come.”

“Why?”

“Because word on the street is they’re going to use the meet-up as a distraction to raid the house,” he answers. “I need you with me so I know you’re safe.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to call off the meet-up?” You argue.

“No. I want them to come. So I can rip them to fucking shreds and send those assholes a message,” he explains. 

You have no reason or room to question him, so you head upstairs to change. Whenever you’re going to be in the presence of gang members, whether Dragons or Wolves, Namjoon prefers you dress a bit tougher than your normal girly outfits. He knows these men and the way they think, so anything, no matter how small, to show them you mean business is a good thing.

Throwing on cargo pants, combat boots, and a leather jacket over your t-shirt, you use the darker half of your eyeshadow palette and put your hair up. All for show. 

You’re exiting the house as the sun sinks behind the clouds. Namjoon hands you the extra helmet before swinging his leg over his bike. He watches you put it on and adjust the strap before he slaps your eye shield down with a laugh. You shove his arm before swinging your leg over and joining him on the motorcycle. 

The familiar thunderous sound of the Dragon’s motorcycles coming to life is deafening even through the helmet. It’s about fifteen bikes in total and the remaining gang members will guard the house and catch any Wolves trying to break in. 

Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok are directly behind you and Namjoon. One by one they signal to your brother they’re ready to go. You adjust your placement by scooting closer to your brother’s warmth and wrapping your arms around his middle. Your fingers twist around the zipper of his open leather jacket to hold onto him. The engine roars to life and you feel the bike kick beneath you as it rears to go. 

“Good?” He asks.

“Ready as ever,” you confirm. 

Kicking up the stand with his heel, he signals with his hand before leading the bikers away from the house and onto the dark pavement of the road. The wind sweeps over your bodies in waves as Namjoon speeds down the backstreets leading into the city. 

You don’t ride much anymore, but whenever you do it’s always exhilarating. The heat of the bike beneath your legs, your brother’s comforting presence in front of you, and the air wiping around you as it nips at your clothes. Tipping to the right along with Namjoon as he takes a tight corner, you watch as the city grows closer. The monumental buildings and yellow lights along the river make it look beautiful and more peaceful than you know it is. 

When you reach the river, the Wolves are already there waiting. The rival gang members lounge on their parked motorcycles as they speak to one another. It can’t be all of them, since you know their numbers closely rival your own, and there aren't more than twelve here. It pisses you off when you realize they really are planning to raid the house tonight. If you find out a Wolf was in your room there will be hell to pay. 

Namjoon kills the engine and removes his helmet, shaking his dark hair from his eyes. You follow suit and step off the bike as he pushes the stand back down. Your brother shoots you a look you already know means “stay close to me.” 

The agreed upon location is just outside an abandoned warehouse where everything in sight is slowly deteriorating. The road has gigantic potholes and cracks and if you go close enough to the water some of the gravel has already caved in and is eroding. The two gangs congregate near the water’s edge where it laps against the shore and sprays water onto the road. 

When the dust settles, Namjoon stands ahead of his gang where he is toe-to-toe with the Wolves’ leader, Bangchan. You move quietly through the rows of Dragons until you’re off to the left, farthest from the water. The position hides you enough to avoid unwanted attention but is still close enough to Namjoon in case of an emergency. Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok stand at the back and sides, respectively, creating an invisible wall of your brother’s closest allies. 

Your eyes maneuver over the crowd of Wolves one at a time. Without their leather biker jackets which bear the insignia of each group, it would be impossible to tell them apart. They’re just a bunch of boys pretending to be men. 

None of them particularly stand out to you except — 

Head whipping back for a double take, the movement is so quick your ponytail snaps harshly against your skin. Your eyes slowly open wide, your mouth dropping open just enough for a sharp intake of air. Because amongst the crowd of Wolves, off to the left next to a shorter blonde guy is…

There’s no way. 

He certainly looks like Jungkook. His hair is falling down in soft waves just like Jungkook’s does and his unmistakable doe eyes are front and center without his glasses on. But this guy has a lip piercing and eyebrow piercing. His ears are decorated with pretty silver hoops and a dangling chain. The doppelganger is wearing a navy blue cut off, which reveals to your eyes that his entire arm, from wrist to shoulder, is covered in tattoos. Dark, colorful, intricate tattoos that look like they took years to build into the sleeve it is now. This can’t be the reason Jungkook only ever wears long sleeves and weirdly refuses to ever roll them up… can it?

You squint to make sure you’re seeing him correctly in the dim light. Jungkook must have a twin he never told you about, right? 

But no, that isn’t the answer, because his eyes land on you and widen dramatically. His mouth drops open before it snaps shut and his jaw clenches. From across the concrete where you stand you can see how his entire body is taut with tension.

What. The. Fuck. 

The blonde guy next to him notices the change in the air, nudging him with his elbow. Jungkook shoots him a hard glance before returning his gaze to you.

Part of you wants to cry, and part of you wants to scream. All of you wants to run to him and demand an answer. This guy is a straight A graduate student. What the hell is he doing running around with a bunch of delinquent motorcycle gang members?

The sound of your brother’s voice steals your attention away.

“That’s not what we do here,” he says to Chan. You’re unsure what it’s in response to.

“Hmm,” the man opposite him muses. “No I guess not, but you bring your girl around? That’s a little dangerous, don’t you think?”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks and his teeth grind together at the mention of you, but he hides it well. You only notice the movement because you know what every tick and twitch of his means.  

“Not my girl,” he corrects.

“Oh that’s right, I heard you have a baby sister,” he replies. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Your eyebrows lift when he calls out to you, but you know better. 

“Don’t speak to her,” Namjoon responds in your stead.

When you glance at Jungkook again he looks irrevocably angry, a deep frown messing with his pretty features. His fellow Wolf seems concerned at his mysterious attitude. 

Right now, you’re telepathically begging Jungkook to make eye contact again. To offer some explanation even with just his eyes. Sure, you don’t know much about each other’s lives outside of school but the feeling of betrayal slinks under your skin nonetheless. Mostly because of the fucking tattoo sleeve he’s been hiding from you.

His eyes do eventually meet yours, but his expression is cold. Is he upset at you for keeping this part of your life from him, too? 

The low grumble of taunts and heckles from both gangs indicates their playtime is over. When you look across the street, Jungkook is already climbing on his bike and putting on his helmet. You know without uncertainty now that it is in fact Jungkook, since a large purple “JK” emblem is painted onto his helmet.

Namjoon is quick to gesture you over to him. Your eyes meet Bangchan’s as you walk to the bike, and it disgusts you how he drinks you up and undresses you with his eyes when you pass by.

You scoff before getting back into position behind your brother and securing your helmet in place.

Jungkook is fucking reeling. He barely waits for the rest of his gang to peel away on their bikes before he’s taking off down the street. Jimin follows close behind him, the older biker probably still wondering what the fuck is going on. 

Rides are normally Jungkook’s way of clearing his head, but tonight all he can think and feel is his blood pumping with adrenaline. You are the last person he ever expected to be involved with a gang. It’s almost enough to make him laugh; all you wear are sexy little skirts and shirts with cartoon characters on them. You’re girly and adorable and should be spending your time at the mall, not in the underbelly of this messed up city. Although, if your involvement begins and ends with your brother, he imagines you don’t have much choice.

Jungkook makes it back to the house in record time, leaving everyone else in the dust. He is quick to cut the engine of his bike and toss his helmet aside so he can get inside. His hands run through his hair over and over as he trudges into the house, pulling at the ends as he grits his teeth.

The door slams shut behind him and he yells into the air with his head thrown back. Taehyung is rounding the corner from the kitchen when he hears it. He should be at the Dragon’s Lair right now ransacking the place, but Chan called it off when he found out the Dragons knew what they were planning. 

“Uh, you good?”

“No,” Jungkook sneers. “No, I’m not fucking good, Tae.”

Taehyung is about to probe him with more questions when Jimin flies through the door.

“What the fuck was that, kid?” Jimin sets his helmet down on the table and walks over.

“You guys remember the girl I was telling you about?” He asks. They both nod. “Yeah, well. She’s the leader of the Dragons fucking little sister.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Holy shit.”

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing sticking your dick in someone involved with the Dragons?” Taehyung accuses.

“I didn’t know, Tae! I didn’t know until I saw her at the meet-up tonight,” Jungkook explains. 

“And she saw you?” Jimin asks.

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook laughs incredulously. “She looked shocked as hell and like she was about to cry.”

Taehyung and Jimin share a look while Jungkook practically rips his hair out from how much he’s combing his fingers through it. 

“You know you… can’t see her anymore, right?” Jimin poses the question cautiously. “If Kim Namjoon ever found out you’ve laid a finger on her he will fucking end you.”

“I know,” Jungkook grunts out. “I fucking know, Jimin.” Jungkook paces the room a couple times. “Fuck!” He slaps his hands against his face before groaning into them. 

“I mean, I know the pussy was good but it will be fine, right? It’s not like you were dating her,” Taehyung adds. 

Jungkook just glares at him from between his fingers. He doesn’t think he can talk about this anymore without losing his goddamn mind. He tells them goodnight without any further explanation before trudging down the stairs. 

He slams his door and chucks his leather jacket on a chair once he’s in the confines of his bedroom. He wants to scream again, but he doesn’t, tries to take deep breaths instead. The air feels thick and his shirt is suddenly too tight. 

His head is pounding with a headache that just sounds like you, you, you. 

The same you who is always on his mind, day or night. The girl he never rushes when you study together because he likes to watch the gears turn in your pretty little head. The girl he admires from his periphery as you doodle in your notebook. You, who he wants to kiss more than anything but he doesn’t because he’s terrified of scaring you away. 

Jungkook falls to his bed and covers his face with his hands. He’s in pure, unadulterated agony. His knuckles press into his eyelids as he groans. Lately, he’s been picturing so much for you and him. He daydreams about holding your hand and taking you out on dates and making love to you in his bed. It feels like there’s so much potential now shot in the face and gone in an instant. 

He knows he can’t continue on with you. It would be dangerous and reckless. Yet he wants to, he wants to so badly he can feel the need in his bones. 

He punches his pillow once, twice, and then sits up. He shakes his head as if that could dispel his thoughts of you. No, nothing will ever bring him to forget your brilliant smile, your sparkling eyes, your soft skin. Or the way you moan, whimper, and cry when he’s making you come and fucking you nice and deep. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fuck someone who isn’t you again. No, you’ve completely and utterly ruined his body and mind. 

“God fucking dammit, Y/N,” he groans into his hands. 

He rips his shirt off over his head before falling back again. His chest is hot with anxiety and his nerves crackle with fear of the unknown. His heartbeat is thumping like a beast in a cage. 

Jungkook decides to let his frustration out in the best way he knows how. He kicks his pants off and pulls his boxers down, spitting into his hand to lube himself. A sigh of relief breaks from his chest as soon as he feels his hand around his cock. 

He’s not hard yet, not even close. But it’s stupidly easy how fast he gets his blood rushing down to his cock by merely thinking of you. The memory of your voice alone is enough to make him throb. 

You looked so gorgeous tonight he thought he was going to totally lose it when he first saw you. The smokey makeup and ponytail were a first for him. He loves the way you look normally, but your sultry eyes and grungy outfit made him want to do nasty fucking things to you. If he could've, he would've bent you over his bike and took you right there in front of everyone. Your goddamn brother included. 

His hand falls into a familiar rhythm as he strokes himself. He grunts when his thumb presses down on his head and swipes his precum across it. The rough skin of his hand is nothing compared to your mouth or pussy, but it’s enough to satiate him for now.

“Oh, pretty,” he moans into the air. 

His mind conjures images of you for his pleasure. Just yesterday when you were on your knees for him and the other week when he fucked you against the rattling bookshelves of the library. Finally, the first time he ate you out and you cried his name into your hand to keep yourself quiet. You were wearing his glasses that night and he remembers thinking even then that you’d be the end of him.

“My baby.”

Jungkook is coming all over himself before he knows it. He grunts and pants as he fucks himself through his orgasm. Your name leaves his lips in a desperate huff as he finally lets go of his cock and wipes his hand on a nearby towel. 

There’s two days before he’ll see you again in class. Jungkook has two days to decide whether or not he’s willing to go up against Dragon fire for you.

Your leg bounces anxiously beneath the desk as you wait for Jungkook to enter the classroom. It’s been two days since you found out he’s a Wolf and your mind has done nothing but spiral. You’re unsure how to feel or even what you have the right to feel. 

Is it technically a betrayal when neither of you knew about one another? It’s not like you asked him if he happens to be affiliated with any gangs. You should’ve. You freaking should’ve because now it’s biting you in the ass.

When he does finally enter, he looks like the normal Jungkook again. No piercings. Tattoos covered. Sexy nerd glasses on. It pisses you off more than it should. 

He doesn’t say anything to you as he takes his seat and you don’t dare to steal a glance at him. The two of you move in tension-thick silence before the professor starts the class. 

It’s a grueling hour and a half as you refrain from looking over or touching him. Normally, he forces his leg up against yours until you finally give in and play footsie with him. If not that, you gently graze his arm up and down, absentmindedly, as the professor drones on about whatever topic he’s covering that day. 

Class ends as your professor erases the chalkboard behind him. You stand abruptly and speed walk out of the room. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, then you won’t talk to him. It’s simple, and you pretend your heart isn’t shattering in your chest. 

The call of your name stops you in your tracks. When you look back, Jungkook is jogging after you. When he reaches you, he stands at an awkwardly long distance away. Your eyebrows lift and you gesture with your hand for him to get on with it.

“Can we talk?”

You don’t reply, just turn on your heel and walk in the opposite direction. That is, the direction of the parking lot. He follows behind but leaves an obnoxious amount of space. It’s infuriating how his obvious respect for your boundaries gives you butterflies. He unlocks his car with a click and you aggressively plop down in the front seat. Making a show of crossing your arms over your chest and flipping your hair from your eyes.

Jungkook slides into the driver’s side with ease and turns on the heat before turning towards you. You look at him expectantly but he gestures for you to start.

“You’re in a gang,” you state matter-of-factly. “You have tattoos, an entire sleeve, I might add. You have piercings. You’re a fucking Wolf.”

Jungkook nods, licking his lip before he responds. 

“That’s all true, yeah,” he says. 

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” You finally face him. “You’re a graduate student with your entire life ahead of you. What are you doing running around with those losers?” You groan in frustration. “I mean, you’re like a delinquent Hannah Montana or some shit.”

Jungkook smiles at that. He does a once over of your face before inhaling. 

“When my parents died I didn’t have anywhere to go. I was already 18. I grew up with Jimin and he offered me a place to stay at the Wolf’s Den. Rest is history,” he explains. You watch his eyes as he tells his story. “I didn’t plan on going to college. I barely passed high school, anyway. But my parents left me money and put instructions in their will that it was to go to my schooling. I couldn’t let it go to waste. Couldn’t let them down.”

Your hand is grabbing his before you register yourself doing it. Rolling up his shirtsleeve to his elbow, you finally reveal his tattoos before your own eyes. Your fingers trace the intricate details of the artwork. He grabs your wrist in return and you feel his hand shaking. 

“How did they die?” 

“Drunk driver,” he answers. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. You pull his shirt back down and lace your fingers with his. “But I’m sure they’re very proud of you.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” he admits.

You take his face in your hand and force him to look at you.

“Jungkook, you're the top of our class. You can be anything you want to be or do anything you want to do.” you say. “If that’s not something to be proud of, I’m not sure what is.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not leading anywhere after this,” he replies. 

“Why not? Do you seriously want to be involved in this stuff forever? The violence and the rivalries and all the bullshit,” you ask as your voice raises. 

“I’ve never known a life other than this, Y/N! The Wolves are my family. I don’t have anyone else,” he matches your volume. 

You pull away from him with a huff. You’re not sure why you’re so determined to convince him to do something more with his life. But if you have to guess, you imagine it’s because you’re trying and failing to do so yourself. 

“You have me,” you admit quietly into the air between you. It’s a weighted confession. A piece of your true feelings on display for him to see.

Jungkook’s hand cradles your jaw and he looks at you so adoringly that you want to shy away. His thumb is brushing back and forth across your cheekbone. It’s the most gentle affection he’s ever shown you. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I have you.”

He’s kissing you before you even register it. You moan happily against his lips as they move delicately across your own. Jungkook usually handles you like wants to break you, but the way he kisses is the exact opposite. His mouth and his warmth are mending things he wasn’t the one to break. Your hands snake around his neck to pull him closer and he moans when your fingers thread through his hair. 

It’s only your first kiss even after all the time you’ve spent together. It’s magical and romantic and you never want it to end. 

Jungkook grabs you by the waist to pull you into his lap. Your back hits the steering wheel and the horn honks. You giggle into each other’s mouths but never once stop kissing. You’re both smiling and it causes your teeth to clash, but not even that stops you. 

Jungkook deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before slipping it into your mouth. It tangles with your own as he pulls on the hair trapped between his fingers. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he admits against your lips. “Your brother… he’ll kill me.”

“Then why are you?” You murmur before trailing kisses across his sharp jaw. 

“Because I want you too bad to stay away,” he answers. “I want you all the time, baby.”

Your lips meet his again and the kiss grows desperate. Shifting in his lap to move closer, you run your hands up and down the planes of his chest. 

“You have me, Jungkook. I’m yours,” you reveal. 

He pulls back with a shake of his head.

“Not just like this. Not just sex. I want movie dates and sleepless nights. I want to hold your hand and take you out to dinner. I want all of you, Y/N.” He pushes your hair from your face. His eyes are brimming with adoration and melancholy. “But I don’t know how to do that when you are who you are.” 

Your hands grip his shirt as your head falls against his chest. You release a shaky exhale as your mind shuffles through the millions of emotions in your head. It settles on sorrow. Jungkook holds you close to him, cradling you in his arms.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you confess. “I care about you so much.”

You feel Jungkook pressing a kiss to your hair and it makes you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. He’s everything you could ever want and yet nothing you can ever have. 

“I care about you, too, pretty,” he whispers. “So, so much.”

“If this is the last time…” your voice trails off, but Jungkook understands.

He maneuvers you over him and works to move both your clothes out of the way. All while kissing you again and again anywhere he can reach. Your lips, cheeks, nose, jaw, chin. He’s trying to savor this and commit it to memory before it’s gone forever. Before you’re gone. 

His fingers move along your slit, gathering your wetness before bringing it up to your clit. You moan into his mouth and buck your hips against his hand. He expertly massages your pussy in a way only he knows how until you’re wet enough to take him. 

Jungkook stops kissing you momentarily so he can see what he’s doing when he lines himself up. His cock enters you slowly, but you can feel every ridge and curve of him as you sink down deeper into his lap. He kisses your neck as you begin to bounce on him. Your nails bite into his skin as you use his shoulders for leverage.

It doesn’t take long for you both to come, Jungkook’s seed warming you from the inside and bringing forth your own orgasm. The entire time you never once stop kissing, because you’re making up for lost time and saying goodbye all at once. 

Except the goodbye never comes. There’s an attempt, and you go one time seeing each other without hooking up, but that’s the only time. The next time you’re in class together, almost the very second it ends, Jungkook is pushing you into an empty classroom. He kisses you until you can’t see straight, then eats you out and fucks you on the professor’s desk. After that, you both realize you’re too weak for each other to ever stay away. 

Things go on like that for a while, a few months at most. You don’t talk about the massive elephant in the room when you’re together. Just touch and kiss each other to your heart's content like it isn’t the most dangerous game you’ll ever play. 

The realization that Namjoon is aware of your entanglements comes after he suggests a ride together down to the bay, a familiar place you used to go as teenagers. You don’t question it because it’s been a while since you’ve spent some real time together and your brother is a bigger softie than anyone is allowed to know. 

You ride along the shoreline together before he stops the bike in the middle of some abandoned buildings a few yards from the bay. Ships are docking for the night and some children play around the rocky shore with their parents close by. 

“Aren’t we going over there?” You ask, pointing to the usual spot.

Namjoon shakes his head.

“Gotta show you something first,” he tells you. 

Taking your hand, he leads you towards one of the buildings. You watch him quizzically as he pries open one of the rusted doors and holds it open for you. He stands back to allow you to take in the scene.

You don’t realize it’s him at first because his head is down. All you notice is two Dragon lackeys holding someone taut between them as they wait for instruction at the center of the room. But then he pushes against their restraints, grunting and tugging on their arms as hard as he can and you gasp in horror.

You’re running to him before you can think twice. Your hands instinctively reach out for his face, lifting it so you can see him properly. He already has a swollen black eye and a busted lip.

Your pupils shake as tears form in your eyes. 

“Let him go,” you command.

Namjoon walks in slowly and takes his time examining the scene before him. Maybe this is a test to see if the rumor he heard was true. Clearly, you failed.

“Can’t do that, bug,” Namjoon says from behind you. “Wolves who touch what doesn’t belong to them pay the price.”

“It’s not like that, Joonie,” you snap. You push some of Jungkook’s hair away from his face. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing giving him air to breathe. You shake your head, hoping he can read your mind that is screaming I’m sorry. 

“What’s it like then?” Namjoon crosses his arms across his chest. 

“He’s in my graduate class. I didn’t even know he was a Wolf at first,” you say. 

Namjoon steps forward so he’s next to you and tugs on your arms so you let go of Jungkook. You take a tentative step away, not recognizing the look in your brother’s eyes. 

“Hmm, and when you found out… what did you do?” 

“I…”

“When you found out the man you’d been sleeping with was a goddamn fucking Wolf, what did you do, Y/N?” He shouts. 

He’s never spoken to you like this. Has never even raised his voice at you. You don’t have an answer for him. You can’t look him in the eye and admit you willingly betrayed him. 

Namjoon sneers at your silence. He motions for the men to drop Jungkook and he falls to his knees with a grunt. Your body involuntarily steps towards him until Namjoon shoots you a murderous glare. 

Jungkook looks up at the leader of the Dragons from where he kneels before him. You can’t see his expression, but you can tell from his body language he’s resigned to his fate. 

Your brother throws a punch to Jungkook’s face and it connects with a crack. You can’t stop yourself from looking away and snapping your eyes shut. Jungkook spits out blood before Namjoon is forcing him by the jaw to look up at him again.

“You really thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?” Namjoon punches him in the same spot again and you bury your face in your hands. 

Your brother is relentless in his assault. He just punches and punches until his knuckles split and Jungkook’s face is covered in blood and open wounds. You don’t look up. Your head is too heavy with the guilt to even attempt it. 

You’re sobbing into your hands as you listen to the bone-crushing noise. It repeats and repeats like Satan’s broken record. You’re completely helpless to do anything but stand by in terror. 

Namjoon lets go of where he’s holding him by his shirt and Jungkook immediately falls over, catching himself with his hands as he pants and tries to inhale through his busted nose and mouth. 

Instantly, you’re on your knees in front of him, cradling his head to your chest as you try to wipe the blood with your shirt. 

Jungkook groans into you, his hands weakly coming around your waist to hold onto you. You’re crying so hard you can barely see straight, but you force yourself to do anything you can to help him. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook moans against your shirt and you bend your head to kiss his hair. “S’okay.” His words only bring forth more tears.

“No, it’s not,” you sob. 

Namjoon pulls you away from him by your arm before nodding at the two men. The Dragons begin to kick and punch Jungkook in his ribs, chest, and stomach. It only takes a few hits before Jungkook’s weight gives out and he crashes to the floor. They continue relentlessly.

“No! No, please!” You turn towards your brother while still on your knees. The sound of Jungkook being beaten is piercing your eardrums and throwing off your equilibrium. “Please, Joonie, make them stop.” You grab onto your brother’s legs and sob against him. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just stop hurting him.”

Namjoon forces your head up. He looks so disgusted at your pathetic display of affection for someone he’s raised you to hate. 

“Why should I?” His voice is pure venom.

“Because… because I love him, Namjoon,” you admit for the first time out loud.

Your brother’s eyes turn razor sharp. He gazes towards where his men are still having their fill with Jungkook’s battered body.

“Stop,” he orders them. The room goes eerily quiet. Your heart only continues beating because you can hear Jungkook wheezing out breath. He’s still alive. That’s all that matters. “I’ll stop if you swear to me you’ll never see or speak to him ever again.”

“I swear, Namjoon,” you reply without missing a beat. 

“If you disobey me,” he threatens. “I won’t have a choice, do you understand?” You nod. “Say you understand, Y/N.”

“I understand,” you shout back. 

He steps away from you and you collapse onto your hands. Grabbing you by the shoulder he yanks you up and orders his men to leave first. You don’t look back as he drags you from the warehouse and shuts the door behind him.

When you return home, you run upstairs to the safety of your bedroom. Cradling your phone in your shaky hands, you find the number Jungkook input for emergencies only. Namjoon deleted Jungkook’s contact from your phone as soon as you left the warehouse, but he doesn't know you have a different Wolf’s number, too.

The phone rings three times before someone answers. 

“Hello?” You’ve never heard the voice on the other end before.

“Is this Jimin?”

“Who’s asking?” He sounds rightfully suspicious.

“Listen, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but you have to go to the warehouse district by the bay. Jungkook he’s… he’s hurt really bad, okay? He needs your help,” you explain through fresh tears. “Please, you have to help him.”

“Is this who I think it is?”

“Please, Jimin. He’s in the building with the blue door and green-tinted windows,” you tell him. “Hurry.”

You cut the line before he can ask you anything further. The only thing you can do is fall into your bed and wail as you pray his friends make it in time. 

Jungkook can’t move from his spot on the cold concrete floor. He tries; tries using his hands to pull himself up but he just falls back with a thump. His breath is coming out of him in thin wheezes and every time he inhales he feels a sharp tug as his lungs. He knows he’ll die here if someone doesn’t find him, which is highly unlikely. 

Despite his injuries causing every nerve ending in his body to sizzle and burn, all he can think about is you. Your sobs and pleas and how quiet your voice was when you admitted you love him. It’s pathetic how undeniably happy he was in that moment even as his lungs were caving in and his ribs were splintering. 

You love him enough to let him go. Jungkook doesn’t know if he himself is that strong. If in your place he would be able to swear the same way you did. He hopes so, that somehow a piece of your virtue has rubbed off on him through your time together. 

He hears the door creak open and his first thought is that Namjoon sent his goons back to finish the job. But then he’s being lifted from the floor and familiar voices filter in through his waning consciousness. 

“Fuck, kid,” Taehyung curses as he rolls Jungkook over to examine his injuries. “What did you get yourself into?”

Jungkook grasps at his side as the pain splinters across his back and chest. The pain is scalding and it radiates across his entire body in waves that threaten to pull him under. 

“Is he breathing?” Jimin’s voice rings out. 

“Yeah. His eyes aren’t open, though. Don’t know if he even can with how bad his face is,” Taehyung explains to his companion. 

Jimin curses when he sees his younger friend’s condition. He has to look away for a moment, unable to tolerate seeing his little brother like this. 

“I’ll fucking kill those bastards,” he grits his teeth, sneering.

“No, you won’t,” Taehyung sighs. “This is penance. Jungkook is lucky he’s alive right now.”

The two men end their conversation to help Jungkook up from the floor. It isn’t easy. There’s blood everywhere and Jungkook screams in agony as they jostle his broken body around to carry him. He’s heavier than both of them combined and if it weren’t for Taehyung’s recent time spent at the gym, it would be physically impossible. 

Taehyung ends up carrying him back to back, with Jungkook lying as flat as possible while Taehyung takes slow, heavy steps towards the door. Jimin carries his feet gently behind them since their similar heights leave the bottom half of Jungkook’s legs dragging on the floor. 

Somehow, they make it out and get him into the backseat of the car where they’ve laid towels and sheets down to soak up the blood. Jungkook groans endlessly as the car flies through the city streets towards the hospital. 

His friends know he has an emergency fund set up by his parents they can use to pay for his admission. If he didn’t, his fate would be up to whatever member of their gang has the most medical experience. 

Jungkook spends the next two weeks in the hospital. By the time he’s discharged he still can’t open his left eye, has more than 100 stitches, and is wrapped up like a mummy to help his bones and muscles heal. His ribs punctured his lungs so he’s on medication to insure he can breathe properly. He’ll be sequestered to his bed per doctor’s orders for at least two months. Luckily, the semester just ended, so he won’t miss any classes while he’s recovering. 

His gang members take care of him and help him in any way they can, but they can only assist with his physical injuries. There’s nothing anyone can do about his broken heart. 

He lies in bed day and night, just staring at his ceiling as he daydreams about you being here to care for him. Your warm hands brushing his hair out of his face and your lips pressing a peck to his cheek. Jungkook swears he can hear you giggling as you tell him he “still looks handsome, even like this.” 

Jungkook knows in his bones that you were a mistake. He should’ve cut things off when he had the chance after he found out who you are. And yet, he can’t bring himself to think of you as such. It’s impossible for him to regret even a single moment of the time he spent with you. 

Every minute he’s awake he wonders what you’re doing and if you’re alright. Are you enjoying your time off from school? What activities and hobbies do you enjoy when you’re alone? Are you missing him the way he’s missing you?

It’s ironic, but he also hopes you aren’t still angry with your brother. Being a leader means doing what you have to do and Jungkook hopes you can forgive him. He knows how much Namjoon means to you and he can’t live with himself knowing he’s the thing that’s driving a wedge between you.

When he’s asleep, he dreams of you, and there are varying types of them. There are beautiful, soft, soothing dreams where he just gets to hold you and listen to your voice talk about nothing at all. Ones where he gets to confess that he loves you, too, and that he wants to be with you more than anything in the world. Then there’s the sexy, unbridled, wet dreams that have him gasping and sweating when he wakes up. He dreams of you on top of him as you whisper how much you need him into his ear. There’s another where he’s pounding you into his mattress as he kisses your neck, shoulders, and tits. He doesn’t even know what your actual breasts look like; he never got the chance to see you like that. One night his mind combines both the hard and soft and he dreams up an entire day spent with you. Where he takes you out for dinner and a movie, then brings you back to his place to worship your body, falls asleep with you on his chest, and then wakes up to do it all over again. Jungkook wonders if he should just sleep all the time so he can be with you.

His reality without you is bleak, grave, and dark. There’s no light in his world anymore and he doesn’t know how long he can go without seeing you or hearing your voice. 

Jungkook makes a full recovery before the next semester starts. Luckily, he doesn’t have too many scars on his face anymore from the incident. When he looks in the mirror, it finally looks like him staring back again.

On the first day of classes Jungkook prays you’re in the same one again, but he doesn’t see you anywhere. His eyes constantly scan the hallways and classrooms for any sign of you, but to no avail. It’s killing him not knowing where you are. 

He spends his days anxiously bouncing his knee below the desk as he attempts to listen to his professors. Sometimes, he’ll see a glimmer of someone who could be you, only to find out it’s not, and fall back into his usual disappointment. 

By the time he does see you again, six months have passed. He wishes the reunion had been happy, or that it was even a reunion at all. Instead it’s just him, standing at the entrance of the building as he watches you race in the opposite direction before hopping into a car with a Dragon. 

When he gets home he enters with his head down. After getting his first glimpse of you in six months, he isn’t ready to converse with anyone from his gang. 

But he doesn’t get the chance to head downstairs right away. 

His gang is congregated in the living room. There’s an intense tension in the air Jungkook doesn’t know how to name. He steps into the room and it feels like the air gets sucked out of it. As if everyone is suddenly statues in a graveyard. Jimin and Taehyung eye him carefully as he walks forwards towards their leader.

Bangchan is conversing intensely with some of his right hand men, but he turns towards Jungkook when he notices him approaching. Chan clears his throat and grabs the younger man’s shoulder, then he speaks a truth that has Jungkook’s heart sinking in his chest. 

“Kim Namjoon is dead.”

You’re a zombie among the living and you have been for some time now. Ever since Jungkook was forcefully ripped from your life, you’re a shell of the woman you once were. The time off from school moves like honey dripping from a spoon as you spend every waking moment wondering how he’s doing. You don’t even know if he’s alive or not. 

There’s a tsunami of relief that moves through you when you find out he’s alive and fully recovered. You only know because you hear some girls in the library talking about him once classes start back up. The jealousy from their whispers about him doesn’t have anywhere within you to take root. The soil of your heart is salted and rotting. 

Every single day you fight the urge to go to him, but you refuse to risk his life again. The pain of missing him is incomprehensible. You feel it in your heart and lungs as they work overtime to soothe the ache of being apart. But none of it even comes close to the nightmares and memories of hearing his bones break and his breathing wane. Night terrors overtake you for months following the incident. Images of him bleeding and broken in a heap on the floor while you stand helpless to stop it. 

You haven’t spoken a single word to Namjoon since that night. He tries, but you shut yourself in your room or leave the house entirely. You haven’t heard your brother’s deep and melodious voice in six months now. You’re uncertain if you have the strength within you to forgive him. Maybe one day, once the Dragons and the Wolves are just a distant nightmare you never have to experience again. 

The day starts like any other. Yoongi drops you off at the university and you thank him before heading to class. The topics and lectures are boring, per usual, as you doodle in your notebook alongside the actual notes you take. You’re out of focus these days but you manage to keep your grades up. It’s hard without your study buddy. 

The call comes a little before your last lecture is supposed to start. It’s Seokjin, and you know something is wrong as soon as you answer. 

“You need to come home. Something’s happened,” he says. 

“Seokjin, I don’t —”

“It’s Joonie,” his voice breaks.

Your heart sinks into an abyss so deep you’re certain it will never rise again. 

You’re running before the call even drops. The last thing Seokjin tells you is that Yoongi is waiting for you at the entrance. Propelling your feet forward even though you want to collapse, you bolt out of the building and make it to Yoongi’s car in an instant. 

Yoongi is speeding off before the door has had time to shut. He doesn’t say anything. Just stares straight ahead with tears rolling down his face like rain. 

When you reach the house, the silence seems to stretch infinitely. There are no birds chirping or trees billowing in the wind. It’s absolutely stone cold silent. You wonder if the apocalypse came while you were in the car. The door to the house creaks open and the sound of people breathing and the AC blasting is somehow deafening in comparison. 

Your feet move on their own because your mind is too busy hiding from what it knows is about to come. 

Namjoon is lying on the couch with one arm falling limp over the edge of the cushion. He looks like he’s taking one of his infamous naps. The ones that always happen after he’s been reading for too long. The only thing missing from the scene is an open book lying across his chest. You stop a few feet away and stare at his chest, the one you spent your entire childhood lying on and slapping whenever he made you angry. You will it to move with your mind, imagine it rising and falling and attempt a manifestation of the sight into reality. After counting to ten without seeing it rise, you collapse. 

A scream rips out of your throat as you bring your forehead to the hardwood floor beneath you. Your entire body is shaking so violently that the zippers on your clothes rattle. Someone who smells like Hoseok comes behind you, holding you up against him as you sob hard enough to make yourself sick.

“No,” you wail helplessly into his shoulder. 

Hoseok releases you when you begin to push against his hold. You crawl towards your brother on your hands and knees. When you reach him you caress his face and push his hair out of his eyes. He hates it when it gets in his eyes. 

“Joonie,” you whisper to only him. “Joonie, you gotta wake up.” You gasp for air. “I need my big brother. Please, please, for me, you have to wake up.”

He doesn’t respond. You already know he can’t. It doesn’t matter. You’ll speak nonsense to him until his body begins to decay. 

Throwing yourself on top of him, you cry into his bloodstained clothes. He’s still warm even though he’s hard to the touch. You aren’t sure if there’s a scientific explanation or if your brother’s soul is just so warm that it left behind a signature. 

No one moves. Every member of the Dragons just watches in agony as you mourn your brother. Their beloved leader. 

You want to die. You want to take one of the switchblades amongst the men in the room and slit your throat. Let your blood congeal with your brother’s and have them bury you together. 

Namjoon probably wants to force his way out the afterlife, barreling through anyone in his path, even God himself, just to yell at you for even thinking about it. He raised you to be strong, but you don’t know what strength is without him. 

His three best friends help you up once your cries subside into dry whimpers. They help you walk, one with his arm around your waist, the other two with their arms around your shoulders and arm, up the stairs to your room. 

As gently as three gang members can, they lay you in your bed. Yoongi takes your shoes off for you and Hoseok pulls the blankets over you. 

You grab Seokjin’s hand before they have a chance to leave.

“Please don’t… don’t move him yet,” you croak through your sore vocal chords. “I need to be there. It should be up to me how we… how we bury him.”

Seokjin assures you they won’t as tears fall from his eyes. The two of you share a meaningful glance. A secret only the three of you shared and will be buried along with your brother.

Your tears put you to sleep. It’s completely dreamless. Just black, empty darkness that feels infinite. You wonder if this endless void is your new reality. 

The sound of knocking is what wakes you up. You’re still in delirium as you sit up and attempt to find the source of the sound. When you do, you gasp, pulling the covers away and springing from the bed.

You push your window up, reaching your hand out for the guest hanging onto your ledge with his fingertips. 

Jungkook steps into your room one leg at a time, ducking down so he fits through the opening. When he stands to his full height, you think you’re still dreaming. It isn’t until he speaks that you realize you aren’t.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I had to see you, I couldn’t —”

Your mouth clips his sentence in half. Hands tugging at his shirt, you pull him into you as you kiss him. He’s still as a statue at first, confusion evident in the way his brow creases. But then you feel his hands on your waist and he pulls you closer, matching the rhythm of your mouth against his. 

Your foreheads touch as you exhale into the air between you. Eyes still closed, you let the feeling of him and his warmth take you under and into his current. 

“I missed you,” you say. Jungkook’s hands squeeze your hips. “I missed you so much, Jungkook.” 

Your head drops to his shoulder as you cry. He pulls you into him and holds you there with his hand against your head. He combs his fingers through your hair and kisses down the side of your face. Anything he can think to do to bring you some sort of comfort. 

“I’m here, pretty,” he tells you. “Not going anywhere.”

He guides you over to your bed as your breathing levels out again. You sit next to one another and Jungkook caresses your hand. Every once in a while bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles one by one. 

With your free hand you grab his chin, turning his face back and forth before you breathe out a laugh.

“You’re still so handsome,” you say after analyzing his features. The scars embedded in his honey skin are faint. “I almost forgot how handsome you are.” 

Jungkook shakes his head.

“I knew you’d say something like that,” he responds. He pulls you closer so your knees touch. The silent moments between you are comfortable. You don’t need to speak, just be near. After a while Jungkook licks his lips and says, “I’m so, so sorry about your brother, Y/N.”

Your hand grips his fingers harder as reality slowly creeps back in. 

“I…” you have to inhale before you can continue. “The last time I ever spoke to him was that night.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and then soften into something that looks like guilt. As if him being brutally beaten was his own doing. 

“Baby,” Jungkook calls to you. 

You shake your head. There is no going back now and you aren’t sure you would if given the chance. Maybe just to tell Namjoon you love him one more time, but nothing further. His death doesn’t take away from him hurting you. 

“I didn’t know if you were dead or alive until classes started again,” you tell him. “I had nightmares every night about what they did to you. The way your bones sounded when they —”

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m right here. I’m fine,” Jungkook reassures you. 

“You weren’t fine, though,” you snap. “I wasn’t fine. He took you from me, Jungkook.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I told him my feelings for you and he still made me stay away.”

Jungkook doesn’t have a response because he knows everything you’re feeling isn’t black and white. The grief is mixing with the anger and the sadness into a devastating combination of emotions. So he holds you instead, pulls you across his lap so your thighs are resting on either side of him. Brushes his fingers up your back in a soothing pattern while you rest your head on his shoulder. 

After a while of comforting silence, your lips find the mole on his neck. It’s just a tentative kiss at first, but then you’re kissing him harder and sucking on the sensitive skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. His hands caress your hips tentatively, fingers reaching up and brushing against the skin beneath your top. 

“Pretty,” Jungkook sighs. “We don’t have to —”

“I need you, Jungkook,” you say as you face him. You don’t mean it sexually, even though sex is exactly what you’re asking for. The need to feel him close is just so great, that his touch is the only thing that can quell it. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, heard him, or touched him, and you’re desperate to feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers just so you know he’s here and he’s alive. “Please, baby.”

Jungkook nods and kisses you slowly, tasting you on his tongue as your hips begin to grind against him. His hands guide you across his lap in slow circles. You feel him growing hard, causing you to moan into his mouth. He deepens the kiss with his tongue, cradling your neck to keep your head still as he chases your lips. 

Your hands find his shoulders and use the leverage to grind down harder against the evident bulge in his pants. You groan at the feeling of it rubbing against your clit through your clothes. Jungkook growls deep in his throat when you pick up the pace. His lips are all over you. He kisses down your face and across your jaw. Sucks on your neck and drags his tongue along your hot skin before biting into your jugular. Your gasp slowly morphs into a moan. 

Jungkook moves away for a split second so he can tug your top over your head. His eyes drop down to your covered chest to see what he’s been dying to all this time. He cups your breasts in his hands, massaging and pushing them together before bending down to kiss the tops of them. 

You reach back to unclip your bra and Jungkook moans as it falls away. He’s never gotten to see you like this before; feel your soft skin under his hands like this. Now unimpeached, Jungkook takes one of your nipples in his mouth while twisting the other between his fingers. You throw your head back as you pant in ecstasy. 

“Jungkook,” you whine as he gives your other breast the same attention. “Feels so good.”

When he’s done, he kisses his way back up to your lips. Your hand tangles into his long hair and your nails scratch at his scalp. Your free hand tugs at the hem of his top. Jungkook chuckles at your silent signal before removing his shirt with one hand. 

Seeing him unobstructed for the first time is pure heaven. Hands tracing over his shoulders and down his chest, scratching your nails across the abs you knew he had. When he pulls you close, the skin to skin contact you’ve been aching for is like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day.

Jungkook’s warm hands are sprawled across your back as your pussy moves expertly against him. Part of you wants to just keep going like this until you both come in your pants, but most of you wants him naked and beneath you in your bed.

Jungkook obliges without needing to be told. He lifts you enough to lie you back and crawls over you, pushing your thighs apart with his knee. You reach for him and he kisses your fingers before meeting you again at your lips. His hands are working your jeans off you while he ravishes your lips and jaw. 

When they’re off, he sits back on his heels to look at you. This is the sight he’s been waiting for and he doesn’t want to miss a second of it. His hands grip your thighs and he squeezes to watch your flesh move between his fingers. 

“So beautiful, baby,” he praises you. He starts kissing you again at your collarbones before inching down slowly. After his mouth leaves your breasts he kisses down your stomach. “I love you,” he whispers directly into your skin. You aren’t sure you heard him right, but then he repeats himself as he kisses across your hips. “I love you… I love you… I love you.” 

It comes out of his mouth like a prayer and you’re his only deity. Bittersweet tears roll down your cheeks at his confession. Your fingers thread into his hair as he finally reaches your pussy. He kisses you once on your mound before pulling your underwear down your legs so he can taste you. 

He kisses you slowly, reverently. At first it’s so soft and light you barely feel him, but then his tongue swipes across your folds and you moan desperately. His hands grip the back of your thighs to pull you closer, burying his face into your cunt. He groans in pleasure, his mouth and tongue alternating between licking and kissing you while his nose teases your clit. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he grunts as he dives back in for more. 

You’re a complete mess above him. Hair strewn haphazardly across the pillow, nipples swollen and erect, panting out breaths with dried tears all down your face.

Jungkook moves to suck on your clit and then kitten licks at it, using a finger to push your hood back and drive you into oversensitivity. You cover your mouth with your hand to scream into it. Your hips chase his mouth and he lets you. He just moans into your cunt as you ride his face. 

Jungkook grips you tighter to still you, not letting you grind anymore so he can go into overdrive against your hole. He fucks you with his tongue and then licks all the way up to your clit before staying there. He flattens his tongue against the nub and moves his face back and forth. Pulls back and spits directly on it before rubbing it in with the tip of his tongue. 

Your orgasm pulls you beneath the waves of ecstasy and you welcomely drown in it. It happens without warning, but Jungkook already knows. He knows your body like it’s his own and he growls as you come on his face and he drinks every last drop. 

Gasping for any air you can find, Jungkook kisses across your thighs and bites at your flesh. You grab him by the shoulder to bring him back to you. You taste yourself on his lips, your cum smearing across the bottom half of your face. 

Your hands are quick to undo Jungkook’s belt and pull down the zipper of his jeans. You start palming him through his boxers before his pants are fully off. He groans into your mouth before kissing your neck and biting at your earlobe, letting his tongue trace the perimeter of it. 

You want to see him fully and appreciate him in all his glory, so you use your legs to wrap around his own and flip him onto his back. He looks a little shocked at you doing anything even remotely dominant, but the fire in his eyes tells you exactly how much he loves it. 

His neck is your first target as you lick the sweaty skin and press wet kisses all over his throat and shoulder. As your lips move down his torso, your hands follow closely behind, digging your nails into his skin and creating red marks in their wake. He grunts and bucks his hips as you finish your assault on his delicious abdominal muscles. Your eyes roll back when you count eight of them. 

You pull his boxers down and off, all without ever breaking eye contact. Crawling back over him, you take in his entire body laid before you for the first time. He’s so beautiful you could cry. 

Pumping his cock with your warm hand, you move to taste him when he stops you with a hand to your shoulder.

“No, pretty,” he starts. “It’s not about me tonight. Just wanna make you feel good.” You pout and he soothes you by sitting up and pushing your hair away from your face. “Will you let me?” He kisses you softly, but with all his devotion. “Let me make love to you?”

You close your eyes and nod. He kisses the skin of your eyelids adoringly before lying you beneath him again. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time. His cock is teasing your clit while he swipes through your folds to lube himself with your cum. He thrusts into you slowly, letting you adjust to the feel of him again after so long apart.

Your nails rake down his back and across his shoulders as he splits you apart on his cock. You can feel him throbbing deep inside your walls and it’s as though your entire body was created for this very moment. 

When you don’t show any signs of discomfort, Jungkook begins thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. He lays on top of you with his forearms carrying his weight. His body is so familiar and yet everything feels brand new. 

Your legs wrap around his stupidly tiny waist and an actual laugh escapes you. His questioning eyes find yours.

“What do you have such a small waist for, huh? It’s unfair. It’s smaller than mine,” you explain. 

Jungkook tsks at you before kissing your cheek. 

“Your waist is perfect,” he says. “You’re fucking perfect.”

His thrusts are slower than normal, but just as deep. The motion pushes you up the bed each time he enters your pussy and Jungkook has to use his hands to protect your head from hitting the headboard. He grinds his hips down in conjunction with his strokes and it forces his cock right into your g-spot.

Your moans are just one endless stream of sound because it feels too heavenly to do anything else. His name filters between them to create a melody meant only for his ears. 

His body is bringing you forms of pleasure you’ve never experienced with anyone else and yet you care more about the feeling of his warm body against yours. It’s his skin and sweat, the goosebumps on his arms, his hair tickling your face, that truly means the most to you. He’s here in your arms, heart beating up against your own and it almost brings tears to your eyes again. You almost lost him.

You aren’t able to focus on your sentiments for much longer because he pulls back and lifts your ankles to his shoulders and then bends you in half, the back of your thighs touching his chest. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” you gasp. The push and pull of Jungkook’s dick at this angle has your nails nearly puncturing the skin of his shoulder. 

“I got you, pretty,” he states. 

He kisses your calf next to his face and you feel warm all over. Through your legs you can see the way his thick cock comes out coated in your essence before it disappears into you again. Jungkook is watching the same way you are, his mouth open in awe of how well your pussy sucks him in over and over.

The position is too good for your mind to fully comprehend, but you need him closer. You want your skin pressed together as one in every possible place it can. You grab at him and he gets the message, letting your legs fall back to his hips. His elbows are next to your ears as he stretches your hole open for him repeatedly. 

His cock fills you so perfectly that you feel every ridge and vein against your velvet walls. The friction is debilitating and sends your mind into a frenzy. You’re crying tears of pleasure that Jungkook kisses away before devouring your mouth. Gripping his ass, you thrust up against him in an attempt to sink him deeper inside you even though you swear you feel him in your stomach already. 

It’s not enough. Nothing with Jungkook will ever feel like enough when your body wants him so insatiably. But right now, you need more. 

“Jungkook,” you pant. He makes a sound of affirmation as he mouths at your jaw. “Stop playing nice.”

Jungkook lifts his head to look at you. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to give you a chance to take back your instruction. You stare him down with a matching intensity instead.

The sound of his deep chuckle is right next to your ear and your heart races in anticipation. 

In an instant, your hands are forced above your head by one of his own, crossing your wrists over each other and lacing his fingers between the ones he can reach. He pushes at them once, as if telling you not to try anything. When you open your mouth to moan, Jungkook crashes into your lips and spits into your mouth. You’re gasping as you swallow his saliva. His free hand teasingly traces your skin from your hip to your knee, creating fiery goosebumps along your flesh, before he grabs you by the knee and forces your leg up higher on his hip, creating an even closer angle.

He rears back slowly, leaving just his tip in for a lingering moment. Jungkook waits until you whine pathetically at the emptiness, your hips bucking up in desperation. Your pussy clenches around nothing as it begs for him to come back home. Once there are tears pricking at your eyes and he thinks you’ve waited long enough, he slams into you so hard your vision goes out. 

He clasps his hand over your mouth before you can scream. His pace is downright fucking demonic as he pistons his cock into you. You’re screaming and drooling against his hand as tears wet your cheeks. You cannot comprehend how this is the same man who kissed his love into your stomach and hips. You worry you’ll look up and his eyes will be glowing red with the fires of hell. 

This is months of being separated coming to a head. All the fear, rage, depression, and guilt pooling in your stomachs and physically manifesting into a miasma of pleasure. Every thought and worry you felt for one another is pouring over your bodies like acid, burning you in a scorching heat that only the other can quench. 

You’re close and Jungkook can tell by the way your cunt flutters around him. His mouth replaces his hand as he kisses you, letting go of your hands above your head so he can grasp your hips. Your arms snake around his back and into his hair, tugging on the strands to pull him away so you can kiss the veins popping out in his neck. 

“Need to feel you come, pretty,” he grunts. 

A breathy moan is your only response because words are failing you. Jungkook angles your hips up so his tip is kissing you in just the right spot. His thrusts have slowed again but are deeper than ever, so passionate in his pursuit to pleasure you that your orgasm pulls you into a different plane of existence entirely. 

Your hand grips Jungkook’s hair impossibly tight as your pussy spasms around him. Jungkook groans loudly, his head tipping back as you come around him. 

Jungkook usually loves to fill you up and watch it drip out, but for some reason the need to paint you in his seed overwhelms him. He pulls out and fists his cock as hot spurts of cum fall across your stomach, tits, and thighs. 

You moan appreciatively at the feeling and watch in awe at the way it drips from his tip and onto your skin. Instinctively, your mouth opens as you stare into Jungkook’s fucked-out eyes. He hears your message loud and clear, using his fingers to scoop some of his cum from your belly before feeding it to you. You suck it off his fingers without breaking eye contact until you roll your eyes and moan at the taste of him.

Jungkook is panting, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as he stares at the mess he made of you. 

“Fuck, pretty,” he exhales. 

You sit up on your elbows and smile at his artwork across your body. 

“You could always lick it off of me, ya know,” you suggest. 

Jungkook laughs.

“Don’t get me going again, my love,” he responds. “I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” 

Jungkook’s eyes darken and he runs his hands through his hair. After taking a moment to stare you down, he steals your hands and pins them above your head. His lips are touching yours by just a hair when he responds. 

“It’s a promise… for another day,” he states. 

You pout and he kisses it away before finally leaving you to find something to clean you with. You nod your head towards your en-suite bathroom and he comes back with a warm towel. 

You run your fingers through the front of his hair as he delicately wipes his own cum from your soft skin. When he’s done he bends down to kiss your stomach before returning the towel to the bathroom. 

When he returns you’re sitting up and pulling a baggy shirt over your head. Jungkook slips on his boxers and sits next to you, pulling your feet into his lap and caressing your ankles.

Fingers fiddling in your lap, you chew on your lip as you think about the path that lies ahead. There is still so much left unanswered and it terrifies you. 

You have to bury your brother and the Dragons need a new leader. Your only tie to the gang is now gone. The gang would never kick you out of the house, but without Namjoon you have no reason to be involved in this world. But you also have nowhere else to go. 

Then there’s Jungkook, who is a longstanding member of the very gang who is probably responsible for Namjoon’s death. It’s not like they would welcome you into their fray even with him gone. Everyone knows you’re his sister. You love Jungkook and you want to be with him more than anything, but you don’t know a way around all the obstacles still in your path. 

Jungkook gently tucks a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes silently questioning if you’re alright. You affirm him with a nod.

He leaves soon after because you still have so much to sort out. Although, not before putting his number back into your phone and kissing you goodbye. He tells you he’ll see you at the university and you can talk more then. 

When you return downstairs, Namjoon is covered by a white cloth. You, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok sit in the kitchen and discuss burial plans. Yoongi has a family friend who runs a funeral home. You finish deciding on the details and a quiet tension fills the room as you all realize what you need to discuss next. 

“So, how do we go about finding out who did this?” Hoseok starts the daunting conversation.

“It was obviously the fucking Wolves,” Yoongi snarls.

“Yeah, but not all of them,” you say. “The gang as a whole would never do something so stupid and reckless.” 

“You think it was some rogue member?” Seokjin asks.

“That or a small faction who is itching to start a war,” you respond. 

“Well they got what they wanted,” Yoongi says as he crosses his arms. “I’m going to Bangchan tomorrow to challenge them to a brawl. On the condition that if they give up the coward who did this, no one else gets hurt.” 

“You think it will work?” Hoseok questions.

“Wait, you want more people, our people, to possibly get hurt?” You don’t see the logic in it. The Dragons are already down and out without your brother. A massive brawl between the two gangs will only make things worse. 

“Someone has to be punished, Y/N,” Yoongi answers. “I’ll let them decide if it’s one or all of them.” 

You know that Yoongi’s decision is final. He was Namjoon’s right hand man and is most likely to take over as leader. But that doesn’t mean you won’t do whatever it takes to stop it from happening. 

Jungkook finds you after your classes end for the day. You run straight into his arms when you see him, wrapping yourself around his neck and inhaling his familiar scent. His hands sneak below your shirt and rub soothing circles on your waist and back. He kisses you before you go somewhere private to talk.

Sitting down outside the large double doors of the university, you reach across the wooden table to take his hands. It feels odd, but soothing being here together again after months of not crossing paths. When you glance around, you see the same path you took as you were skipping ahead of him after taking an exam. In the opposite direction, there’s a small cove where Jungkook fingered you and kissed you like he needed it more than oxygen. That was shortly before the incident with your brother. The prettier memories of your relationship are all around you.

Inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hands before telling him everything you know.

“There’s going to be a fight in three days unless the Wolves give up the person or people responsible for Namjoon’s death. If they do, the brawl is off,” you explain.

Jungkook is playing with your fingers as he listens to you.

“That won’t work,” Jungkook states. “We would never give up one of our own even if he did do something as cowardly as murdering someone in cold blood.”

“I know,” you agree. “That’s why we have to figure out who did this before then and give them up ourselves.”

“It won’t be easy, pretty,” Jungkook admits. He lets go and leans back before sighing and running his fingers through his hair. “Everyone knows about you and I. They won’t let anything slip around me or my friends.” You chew on your bottom lip as you contemplate your options. Jungkook watches you before taking a deep breath. “If the brawl goes down… you know I’ll have to be there, right, pretty?”

You nod with a far away look in your eyes. 

“I know. That’s why it has to work. I can’t lose you, too,” you whisper without looking at him.

Jungkook kisses the back of your hands, tilting his head to bring your attention to him. His pretty doe eyes are hesitant, not wanting to leave you like this, but you assure him you’re fine before standing. 

He still drops you off at the same spot to avoid any unnecessary tension if he’s spotted near the house. You kiss him goodbye through the driver’s side window before venturing home.

Upon returning home, you notice the classical music playing from the stereo before anything else. You recognize the song and already know who’ll be there before entering the room. Seokjin sits with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass of ice in the other. Everyone else must either be out or in their rooms. You sit next to him and gesture for the bottle. He passes it unceremoniously over to you.

“We swore Yoongi in tonight,” Seokjin tells you. 

“He’ll do good,” you reply. You look at the bottle and swirl the liquid around inside. “He’s always been prudent.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin sighs. 

You put the bottle down and reach for Seokjin’s arm instead. Squeezing it, he looks at you with glassy eyes.

“I miss him already, too,” you breathe.

Seokjin flashes you a hollow smile.

“There was still so much we wanted to do together,” he muses. Seokjin looks down at his hand, stretching his fingers out and flexing it. “He just bought us matching rings. We were gonna wear them on different fingers so no one caught on.”

“Bought? My brother?” 

Seokjin genuinely smiles at that.

“Can you believe it? He said he didn’t want something like that to be stolen. That I deserve to be paid for,” Seokjin explains.

You relax against the chair.

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” you say. 

“I know you two weren’t on good terms at the time, but it doesn’t change how deeply he loved you,” Seokjin continues. 

“I know,” you reply.

“He didn’t…” Seokjin sighs, mulling over his next words carefully. “He was pissed about you sleeping with a Wolf, don’t get me wrong, but he didn’t do what he did out of cruelty. He was our leader. If he looked the other way and people found out, they would've started to doubt his ability to do whatever necessary for the gang.” Seokjin sits forward to meet your eyes. “I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I wanted you to know. He only ever wanted two things for you, Y/N. To be happy and to be safe.”

“Jungkook does both of those things for me,” you say. 

“Good,” Seokjin smiles. 

You squeeze his arm one last time before leaving him alone with the whiskey bottle. 

Time soldiers on with each tick of the clock, every second bringing you closer to the inevitable truth that this brawl is going to happen. Jungkook tells you he’s doing his best, but the truth is harder to scrounge for than originally anticipated. 

The truth comes too late. 

The night of the brawl, you do what you swore you never would and drive Namjoon’s motorcycle down the unfamiliar streets to the Wolf’s Den. You’re wearing his biker jacket, too. The Dragons had it cleaned and the patches re-embroidered before gifting it to you.

Jungkook meets you at the back of the house and sneaks you into his room in the basement. Despite your terror about tonight, finally seeing his room brings a smile to your face.

“I like it,” you say as you run your fingers down the leather jacket on his chair.

Jungkook takes a seat on the bed while your eyes comb over the pieces of him scattered around the room. A picture of him and his parents, a drawing of an adorable white dog who looks like a cloud, his boxing gloves. It’s comforting being so entirely surrounded by him.

Pulling you by the waist, Jungkook brings you to stand between his legs. His hands caress you from your thighs to your stomach before he leans in and kisses your navel, then rests his forehead against you. You comb your fingers through his hair, admiring the pretty black strands. He hums peacefully at the feeling. Being with him like this makes it easy to forget reality looming on the other side of the door, lying in wait for you to return to it. 

“You’ll stay back as much as possible, right? Avoid the big guys?” You ask him.

Jungkook sighs, leaning back on his hands and tracing over your features with his eyes. 

“Pretty, you know I can’t do that,” he responds. 

Nodding with your lip between your teeth, you avoid his eyes. Anger and fear mix together in your stomach and make you want to be sick. Your brother is dead and now the man you love is on the precipice of the same fate. You already lost him once and you refuse to do it again.

“So, you just…” your sentence dies in your throat. There aren’t enough words to explain the heaviness you feel.

Jungkook stands and brings you to his chest. You hit him to make him let you go, but your body is already betraying you and melting into his embrace. You bury your face into his shirt, inhaling his scent and letting it envelope you in familiarity. 

“Please, don’t go,” you beg him. “I love you, Jungkook. I can’t –,” you cut yourself off before your emotions can drown you. “Just… please.”

Jungkook’s fingers use your chin to bring your lips to his. It’s a quick kiss, barely a peck before he moves to kiss the corner of your mouth and then your cheek. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I love you more than I can even comprehend, but this is my family we’re talking about. I have a responsibility to them, too,” he tells you. 

You don’t fight him on it anymore. There’s no strength left within you to do so. Your mental fortitude is cracking and crumbling into ash all around you. Most of all, you don’t want what could possibly be your last moments together to happen in anger. 

Harsh banging forces you apart as someone tells Jungkook it’s time to go. He cradles your face in his hands and kisses you ardently. It feels like goodbye and tastes like grief. You use his lips as an altar and pray to the angels and the saints and maybe even the demons to keep him safe and bring him home to you unscathed. You promise them you’ll be joining them soon if they don’t.

Jungkook sneaks you back out as the Wolves gather in the road on their idling motorcycles. He leaves you with a final kiss to your lips and forehead, where he whispers how much he loves you one more time.

You watch helplessly as your eyes trace his figure moving further and further away from you. He throws an arm around who you can only assume is Taehyung as Jimin follows closely behind. You don’t look away until you’re unable to follow him any longer. His bike carrying him away from you along with the rest of his gang.

A twig snaps, or maybe fate pulls at your shoulder, and you look up just as a few stragglers are heading to leave. You recognize the familiar face as though you last saw him yesterday, and not over a decade ago. The blood in your veins courses through you at sub-zero temperatures and freezes around your organs. 

Realization slams into you with the force of a brick wall. You need to tell the others that you know who took Namjoon from you.

Running across the yard as fast as your legs can carry you, your hands shake as you work to secure your helmet. Your leg swings over the leather seat and you throttle the engine. The bike roars to life and you don’t waste a second before taking off down the street.

One motorcycle can get somewhere a lot faster than twenty five can, but they already have a decent head start. 

Your heart is pounding so loud you can hear it in your ears as the buildings fly by in streaks of blurry light. It rained earlier and the water from the road is whipping up at your legs. All of your senses feel overloaded by the anxiety taking root within you.

You have no clue what you’re going to do when reach the gangs, and if the fight has already started, it will be too dangerous to intervene. 

Jungkook flashes across your mind, and you can already picture the expression of worry and concern he’ll have when you arrive. He’s going to be so angry with you for putting yourself in harm’s way, and Yoongi, Seokjin, and Hoseok will be the same. You can’t concern yourself with their potential anger right now. All that matters is getting to them.

The brawl is taking place at the old salt mill which still stands on the edge of the city. It’s a massive open air factory built on acres of farmland. The last time you saw it, the steel walls were beginning to tear and the foundation cracking.

Despite its dilapidation, it’s the perfect location for fifty or so men to beat and kill each other without anyone noticing.

The monumental building comes into view in the distance and as you approach you see all the motorcycles lined up along the road. 

Parking next to the familiar motorcycles belonging to the Dragons, you grant yourself the reprieve of a single deep breath before diving headfirst into the danger ahead.

The engine has barely begun to cool when you throw your helmet off. Your feet propel you forward across the wet pavement towards the factory. Your shoes meet puddles as you run and the water splashes against your bare legs.

Looking down at your attire, you almost scoff. Namjoon would be so mad at you for not looking the part. You’re about to run into a room of fifty armed men wearing a pleated skirt and frilly pink blouse. At least Namjoon’s jacket still resting on your shoulders makes you look a little bit tougher.

You can just make out the figures amongst the processing equipment and huge piles of salt left behind by the manufacturers. The mountains of salt surround the two gangs and make it look as though they’re in the center of an arena. As you move forward, you see Yoongi and Bangchan standing in the space between the two gangs. 

They’re probably discussing the “rules” and deciding which weapons will be allowed. It’s a pointless conversation to make themselves feel better. You’re certain that every man in there brought a gun to this knife fight. 

“Wait!” You shout when you’re in earshot, traversing over rusted machinery and scattered salt. You speak again once you’re inside. “Stop!”

Yoongi is looking at you incredulously, his eyes burning with a protective fury. Seokjin and Hoseok mirror his expression from where they stand on the far right and left of the Dragons. Your eyes catch motion in your peripheral vision, and you see Jungkook already moving through the crowd to get to you. 

Yoongi grabs your arm and tugs you back into the crowd of Dragons, standing so that his body is shielding you from the Wolves across the room. He opens his mouth to no doubt scold you and demand an explanation, but he doesn’t get the chance. A cacophony of noises and voices stops him.

“Hey –”

“Get off me.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Dude, what the hell.”

“Heesung –”

Your eyes widen in horror as you take in the scene over Yoongi’s shoulder. He sees your expression and turns to follow your gaze.

The Wolves have all moved back into a U shape which highlights two figures standing to the left, next to a massive pile of salt. The flood lights on the ceiling bounce off the bright white and bathe the two of them in an unnatural light.

Jungkook jerks his right arm back to get the man holding him across the shoulders to let go. He grunts and tries to elbow him in the stomach, but stops short when he feels something cool and sharp press against his jugular.

There’s a silver glint from where the light catches on the blade pushing against Jungkook’s throat. Your eyes snap shut involuntarily as a paralyzing fear overtakes your nervous system.

“Y/N…” The man sing-songs in a tone so eerie it creeps up your spine like weeds. 

You didn’t think this through. Didn’t account for what Heesung would do when he’s backed into a corner.

“Heesung, please let him go,” you beg cautiously, not wanting to make a single miscalculation. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

A wave of confusion crosses over Jungkook’s face at your familiarity with his fellow Wolf.

Heesung laughs at your plea and the knife presses harder against Jungkook’s skin. A single bead of blood trails down his throat.

Jungkook knows he’s stronger than Heesung, that he can overpower him with ease, but he can’t bring himself to fight when he sees you across the room. You’re shaking, your eyes so sorrowful it breaks his heart, and your lip trembles where it’s clenched between your teeth. He has something to live for now, someone to come home to, and he can’t risk Heesung’s knife going anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Doesn’t he?” Heesung retorts. “He is your lover, yes? So I should kill him, too, just like I killed Namjoon and leave you with no one so you’ll be just like me.”

His confession permeates through the air, stunning both gangs into a weighted silence. You feel Yoongi go stiff by your side. 

“No,” you whimper. “You can just take me instead. That would be enough, right? Enough revenge? Enough penance for what we did to you?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook snaps at you, but Heesung shushes him.

Heesung studies you for a moment before shaking his head, the knife pressing down again and making Jungkook gasp for air.

“No, Y/N. Nothing will ever be enough,” Heesung snarls.

Time seems to slow once the words leave him, because before anyone in the room can even take their next breath, a gunshot rings out. 

“No!”

Your scream is nearly simultaneous with the gunshot itself, following it by only a millisecond.

Your view of Jungkook and Heesung gets forcefully taken from you in an instant. The only thing you see is blood splattering and dispersing into the air where their heads were a moment ago. The ricochet and a body falling to the floor sends salt up into the air and covers the entire scene in a white cloud. 

There are no words for the emotions that overtake you in the moment before the blood and salt settle. It feels like fear at first, but the word is too small in comparison. Panic, terror, dread, none of them are heavy enough. Grief moves in like fog across the morning air. You wait with bated breath to see if it will break and the sun will peak through the clouds.

Someone coughs, and then they stumble out from the cloud of salt with ragged breaths and wide eyes. He’s covered in blood splatter, the thick liquid matting down his hair and soiling his shirt, but it’s clear none of it is his own.

“Jungkook!”

Your feet can’t bring you to him fast enough. When they do, you throw your arms around his neck as your entire body shakes. Jungkook is still delirious, the gunshot throwing off his equilibrium. But then he feels your warmth against him, grounding him, and his arms latch around your waist.

“It’s okay. I’m alright,” he assures you. His hand sinks into your hair as he pulls you closer, causing your back to arch into him and your heels to lift from the floor. He kisses across your temple, cheek, and hairline.

Your very soul releases a sigh of relief as you sink deeper into his embrace.

The sound of a pistol chamber clicking back into place catches your attention. As the salt slowly falls to the ground like snow, you turn your head to see Seokjin standing behind it. He’s cleaning the gun with a rag as he looks at the body before him in disgust.

“Seokjin,” you say to grab his attention.

He looks up at you with the tiniest of smiles on his lips. If you didn’t know the features of his face you wouldn’t be able to notice it. It’s solemn and peaceful, like he’s finally laying something to rest.

“Didn’t mean to ruin the fun, but that asshole was really pissing me off,” he states. “Can we call this an eye for an eye and be done, Bangchan? I’m not sure you want someone willing to kill one of his own in your ranks anyway.”

Bangchan looks so utterly confused at the whole display that he has to shake his head before gathering his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he finally answers. “We’re done here.”

His words give way for the Wolves to mosey out of the factory, their whispers of confusion following them out to the road. Yoongi tells the Dragons to get home, too, before making his way over to where you’re still clinging to Jungkook.

“You want to tell me what the hell just happened?”

Jungkook squeezes your waist, nods and tells you it’s alright, before letting you go and joining Taehyung and Jimin near the exit. You watch Jimin grasp his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. Taehyung messes with his hair affectionately. 

You ride home on Namjoon’s motorcycle while his friends lead the way. No one speaks until you’re sitting in Yoongi’s room together, passing a bottle of whiskey around. You only begin to talk after taking a slow, poignant sip of the liquor.

“You guys already know Namjoon and I ran away from home because our parents were physically and verbally abusive. But we swore never to tell anyone about what happened the day we left. Namjoon couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud even if he wanted to,” you begin before taking another burning sip of alcohol. “We left just after midnight and snuck out of the house down the fire escape. Our neighbor, Mrs. Lee, spotted us as we were climbing down. She realized what we were doing right away, so she grabbed me so we couldn’t run. I fought against her so hard, but she just wouldn’t let go.” You place your hands between your knees to stop them from shaking. “Namjoon shot her so we could get away. He didn’t have a choice. Our parents would’ve killed us that very night if he hadn’t.” You exhale somberly. “We only realized as we were running down the street that her son was outside and saw the whole thing. We grew up with Heesung. He was our friend. It… it was never meant to happen that way.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Hoseok grabs your hand and it makes you smile just a hair. 

With Heesung’s death comes relief, and your hunger for vengeance is satiated, but the cruelty of fate still nips at your subconscious.

Heesung and Namjoon are two sides of a tragic coin. Neither one deserving of the cards they were dealt, and bound by the lingering strings of a tragedy which became their demise. The domino effect of a lifetime worth of decisions now ends with you, the last one standing.

“You and Namjoon both endured far more than you deserve,” Yoongi says. “But that’s all behind you now, and that Wolf of yours seems to make you pretty happy.”

You laugh and it feels real for the first time in a while. 

“I think we can make an exception to the rules, don’t you?” Seokjin asks his new leader.

“Yes, I believe so,” Yoongi agrees. 

Yoongi tells you Jungkook can visit as long as you’re with him the entire time, and he doesn’t leave your room. He allows it because you’re his best friends’ little sister and he loves you like his own. You’ve been through so much in your life already, and he isn’t going to keep a source of happiness from you. You’re so thankful that you force him into a tight embrace, which he pretends to begrudgingly accept, when he’s actually more than happy to return the affection. 

Jungkook comes over, with permission this time, the very next day. You lie between his legs on your bed while he shows you how to drift in Mario Kart. You’re downright terrible at it, and he has to place his fingers over yours to prevent a loss on his account. When you inevitably do lose, and his overall ranking drops, his tongue presses to his cheek as he stares you down. 

The next thing you know, he’s taking the Switch from you and gently setting it down on the nightstand before turning his attention back to you. He moves his hands down your body from your hips until he reaches your inner thighs and tugs your legs apart. His fingers are quick to find their way to your folds, touching you over your underwear. Your head falls to his shoulder as you moan softly.

“I should piss you off more often,” you muse. 

His fingers are just running up and down your slit over the lace of your panties and it’s both not enough and too much simultaneously. He pushes down, causing the fabric to rub against your clit and you gasp, your hand gripping his arm to keep yourself steady.

“I wouldn’t try it,” he warns. His lips are right against your ear and the deepness of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Then he’s kissing your neck and your mind becomes too hazy to reply.

Jungkook moves your underwear to the side as he’s sucking on your neck and pushes into your cunt without warning. Your other hand curls around his head and grabs onto his hair. It’s pathetic how wet you already are, but the squelching sound your pussy makes as his fingers pump in and out is worth the embarrassment. 

You’re restless, needing more of him than he’s currently providing you. 

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him between your moans and sharp intakes of air. Jungkook is more than willing to oblige your request. 

Which is how you end up on top of him, his cock meeting your cervix repeatedly as you alternate between bouncing up and down and grinding against his hips. His hands are everywhere at first, tracing your outline and massaging over any skin within his reach. But then his right arm, which is so beautifully decorated in tattoos, traverses the familiar path of your chest, stopping to pinch your nipple, before wrapping around your throat.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as your head tips back. The position gives you such a beautiful view of him and his tattoos. You remind yourself to ask him about them soon. A pretty tiger lily is staring you in the face, but then Jungkook squeezes your throat and it becomes a blur of orange and black.

“Always so good for me,” he whispers while sitting up. His lips find yours, his arm securing you to him so you can bounce on him easier. His hand is still on your throat, softly squeezing the sides of it to pleasure you without harm. “My pretty baby,” he says once he moves to sucking on your earlobe and down your neck, just above his own fingers. "Always take my cock so fucking well."

He makes you come twice, because he just loves you that much, before fucking his cum into you as he thrusts his swollen cock into your cunt. 

Once your pussy is battered and filled to the brim with his cum, you fall over onto his chest. You can feel him softening inside you, but don’t want to lose the feeling of him just yet.

Jungkook kisses you slowly, licking across your bottom lip and pulling at it with his teeth. You lazily make out as your hands traverse his naked chest. His fingertips create goosebumps where they skim along your spine. You could stay like this forever without a single complaint.

“I love you,” he whispers on your lips. He says it so quietly, as if he’s trying to hide the proclamation from the rest of the world and keep it just for you.

You’re smiling when you kiss him again.

“I love you,” you parrot. 

After he finally does pull out, you lie naked together under the covers as Jungkook plays with your hair, twirling it and attempting a makeshift braid while you draw shapes on his skin with your fingers. It’s quiet and peaceful inside your mind for the first time in a long time. Jungkook kisses your forehead and you look over at him with a smile. 

Jungkook licks his lips and pulls you up with him until your backs are against the headboard. He finally asks you to enlighten him about why he had a blade to his neck the night prior. You relay the story to him as you did with your brother’s friends. 

Jungkook looks rightfully shocked, but he processes his own emotions quickly to offer you comfort instead.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, pretty,” he says. “If you ever wanna talk about it some more, you know I’m always here, right?”

“I know,” you affirm. “I’m here for you, too.”

“God, we’re both fucked up,” Jungkook chuckles. 

You nod in agreement. 

“It doesn’t have to stay that way, you know,” you propose. “We graduate next year and with Joonie gone there isn’t anything left for me here. I’ll stay until I can afford a place of my own, but then I’m putting this life behind me.” You readjust so you’re looking at Jungkook directly. “And I want you to join me. You’re so fucking smart, Jungkook, and anywhere would be lucky to have you.”

Jungkook hums, tilting his head as he thinks over your words.

“I don’t know what I want right now, pretty, but I do know that I wanna be wherever you are,” he confesses. You’re smiling at him as though he hung the stars in the sky himself. “Is that enough for now?”

Your eyes flit over all the details of him. His wavy black hair, big chocolate brown eyes, and the piercings decorating his pretty lips and eyebrow. He looks so different from the boy you met at school and yet everything is so irrevocably him. You smile, bending down so your noses touch. 

“It’s more than enough,” you tell him.

[therealmylesmorales]

Don’t Take It Personal

Summary: you’re a little worried about how much time Vi is spending with her new friend

Part 2

Warnings: vi’s kind of a dumbass, ngl. Angst probably. R plays a sport for the plot (just vibe guys) loser!vi au

WC: 1.6k

Vi made a new friend.

That was a rare feat for her, seeing how out of the few people she considers a friend included you, her girlfriend, and Jinx, her sister.

She came home beaming after her usual workout at the gym. There was a new face she didn’t recognize and to Vi’s surprise, the friendly chat turned into a new friendship.

Her name was Caitlyn Kiramman. You knew her name, seeing the title “Kiramman” around a few buildings. Caitlyn was studying abroad for a few months, hence why Vi didn’t meet her until now. And yet, the new friendship was blossoming quickly. You didn’t mind, just happy that she managed to make more friends without you being present.

That was until Vi started hanging out with her more than you.

Srry, babe cant make it. At the gym wth Cait 💪🏻

11:23am

You frowned a bit at the recent text Vi sent you. You were at the library waiting for her for your weekly study date but when she was almost half an hour late you finally texted her. Only for your girlfriend to take a raincheck. Again.

Seeing how Vi wasn’t showing up, you still decided to stay for at least another hour; work still needed to be done with or without her. When you did decide to leave, you had to pass by the gym in order to go home. You figured Vi was still inside so you didn’t bother to linger until you heard a familiar voice.

”I’ll see you around, cupcake!”

Cupcake?

You turned to see Vi and Caitlyn leaving the large building. Vi immediately saw you and rushed over to you. Caitlyn gave you a polite wave before going her own way.

She was calling her ‘cupcake.’ You felt a little irritated at the—at your— nickname Vi called Caitlyn. Granted, ‘cupcake’ wasn’t one that was used very often, only when Vi was teasing or being purposely irritating to you. But still. It was your name.

Pushing the negative feelings aside you greeted Vi with a kiss. She smiled into it then pulled you into a tight hug, her arms almost crushing you.

”You stick, Vi,” you muttered into her neck.

A soft laugh escaped her. “You enjoy it. What are you doing here?”

”Going home. Then I saw you and…cupcake.”

”Don’t be like that,” Vi groaned, trying to play it off. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Never said you did.” You tried to change the subject, not wanting to make it a big deal. “Are you going to my game Friday or are you going to be too busy with Caitlyn. It’s the last one of the season, Vi.”

“Hey, have I ever missed a game before?” She asked rhetorically. ”But if it makes you feel better, I promise that I’ll be there.”

”Good.”

Vi then wrapped her arm around you, putting you in an almost headlock, and started walking in the direction of the same apartment. “Let’s go. I’m exhausted.”

While what Vi said did ease some of you worrying, it didn’t stay for long. For the rest of the week, Vi was still with Caitlyn. Even though you attended most of the same classes, and stayed in the same home, you only saw her in passing or for only an hour at night. And every word that came out of her mouth was about the other girl.

“I really think you’ll like Cait, she reminds me of you.”

“Caitlyn squatted 210 today! She’s catching up to me.”

”I’m sorry, baby. Cait and I made plans to see that movie. You can still come!” You hate to admit it but that comment made you pissed off more than anything.

Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn. You haven’t even properly met the girl yet it seemed like you knew everything about her.

When Friday finally came, you just hoped Vi would pay more attention to you rather than her friend. Unfortunately, you were proven wrong.

Hey, pretty, the game is starting soon. Are you still coming?

6:37pm

Yoooo Viiii??

7:01pm

Violet, dude, where are you??

7:15pm

Your leg tapped nervously against the ground, scanning the crowd for the familiar pink haired girl, but you came up dry. In the crowd you could see Jayce, Viktor and Mel who all gave you encouraging smiles. Even Jinx showed up, sitting next to Ekko. She gave you a small shrug at your questioning glance before turning back to your phone, possibly texting her sister.

The coach got your attention, urging you to join your teammates on the court. And with a heavy, disappointed sigh, you got up from the bench. You couldn’t focus on Vi anymore, but you still hoped that she would show up sometime during the game. She did promise after all.

But throughout the game, that familiar full head of pink hair was nowhere to be seen. There was an empty spot next to Jinx that was never filled. Trying to ignore the wide open space was almost impossible, but the game was won without Vi cheering for you. Sure, the ball did slip from your hands more times than you’d like to admit, but your team won.

Your friends that did decide to show up wanted to take you out for the rest of the night, a congratulatory dinner, but you weren’t feeling it. And while Jinx doesn’t like saying the word no, she surprisingly let you go home after you refused. You really just wanted to see if or when Vi would be home.

It was nearing nine at night and Vi still hadn’t called you and your recent text went unanswered. The TV was playing a show, mostly used as background noise as your thoughts took over you.

Almost thirty minutes later, you could hear some noise coming from the hallway.

The door to the apartment opened and you could hear Vi humming a song to herself when she locked up for the night. From your spot on the couch, you saw nothing wrong with her so you were glad to know she was safe. But now she had to dig herself out of the hole she dug.

Vi actually seemed surprised to see you but the smile she gave you was instant. “Oh, hey, babe. Why are you still up?”

”Waiting for you,” you shot back, moving to get closer to her. “It’s been hours Vi, we all have been calling and texting you—“

Vi showed you her phone, a black screen staring back at you. “It died a while ago. What’s with the third degree?”

”Do you remember what day it is?”

”Um…the tenth?”

”Um, maybe it’s the day of my game that you’d promise to come to,” you mocked. Yeah, you were being petty but you thought she deserved it.

Vi muttered a small curse to herself and she looked genuinely apologetic. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I swear, I was going to come but then my phone died, and-and I was with Caitlyn and—“

A heavy sigh escaped you at the name. “Caitlyn, right yeah. That makes sense.”

A look came on Vi’s face, one you knew too well when she was about to become argumentative. “What are you talking about?”

”You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, Vi,” you pointed out. “I’ve noticed it— we all have. You’re always with her.”

”We’re friends!”

”You’re friends with Jayce but when’s the last time you’ve hung out with him since meeting Caitlyn? Is she too rich for chargers so you couldn’t check your phone for five minutes?”

Vi scoffed at you. “What, you want me to stop hanging out with Caitlyn just because you’re jealous?”

”I have nothing to be jealous of, Violet!” You yelled. “Cait’s a friend, I get that. But you have been blowing me off time and time again for her. And the one time I actually needed you, you were with her instead. How the hell do you expect me to feel?”

A short pause came from Violet. And what she said next, set your skin aflame.

”I just think you’re overreacting. It’s a fucking game, I’ll just watch the next one.”

“Okay, you know what,” you paused, running your hands over your face; it didn’t do much to calm your heated nerves. “I’m not doing this with you, right now, Vi.”

Vi’s tense posture immediately changed at the tone of your voice; it was shaky, as if you were holding back tears. You almost never cried, at least in front of her, so the new sight was worrisome. She heard you breath in harshly before continuing.

“I’m way too upset at you right now to even finish this conversation,” you said quietly to her. “I’m tired…and honestly just want some space from you.”

Vi swore her heart stopped at those words. Space? “You…Y/N, you can’t be serious.” Space was the main thing Vi hated. It meant you leaving her.

”I am, actually.” Your back was turned from her at that point so you couldn’t see her face fall in disbelief at the sight of you getting ready to leave the apartment.

She knew you made up your mind and were done hearing her but Vi still had to try. “Babe, don’t go. You’re right, is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry, alright?”

”Glad you came to your senses,” you muttered, albeit bitterly.

Vi was desperate at this point. “You don’t have to leave! I can sleep out here!”

”When I said ‘space’, Vi, I meant completely,” you said. Your voice was starting to get tense, a tell that you were getting annoyed. “My parents live a few minutes away, remember? I'll be fine.”

”Y/N please, just—“

“Vi! I’ll…talk to you eventually,” was the last thing you said before the door closed behind you.

[pomegranate-eater]

cw: yandere, forced relationship, reader is pressured into kissing Phainon’s cheek to erase another person’s lips from his skin.

“I demand one more,” Phainon says with his hand on your hip, tapping his foot with agitation. You squirm as he readjusts you on his lap so the side of his head rests against yours, before his reverent yet shaky hands move to trace circles on your lower back.

“… One more?” You don’t want to have your echo confirmed if the bits of exhaustion are tearing their way into your voice.

The late evening is begging you to rest and yet this is still not the moment for the end of your torment. You’ve given him a bountiful of affectionate cheek smothering by now — if you can call the lip jabs you forced yourself to muster as such — and now he wants one more kiss… predicted by you to not be the actual postlude yet.

Your predicament is because of one, more vivacious woman that kissed his right cheek in the gratitude for his help with something in the earlier hour. The gesture had no romantic affiliations, only conveyed a polite affection for his kindness.

However, when Phainon has returned home after managing his duties in the unreachable for you outside, his agitated state painted the illusion of the event being much more tragic. You were subjected to watching him wipe his face with the sleeve to the point it was red from from the friction, next washing his face, until he dragged you to the chair to sit down with him and began urging you to smooch his face over and over, self-aware you wouldn’t want to watch him lose his mind whole night.

When he hastily explained the situation to you and asked for your forgiveness as if he cheated, sprinkled with some anger at the woman, you understood just one thing really — he believes you to be the only one who could kiss him, as only you are his devotion’s beloved. You’ve been finding him quite irrational, if he is panicking over something out of his control, and definitely not something you’re mad about.

Now in the present, he remains being clearly more offended and worried than you, the unwilling (and currently annoyed) participant in this relationship, are. “Yes. I can still feel her lips on my skin, and I don’t want you to think that I—” he self-deprecates to the point his arms over you squeeze.

You immediately cut off his frantic train of thought. “Phainon, her mouth has been eradicated at this point, I’m sure. All you can do is wait for your skin to begin a new cycle if you think she sunk deeper,” you say dryly, accidentally mocking him a little. Since you're sitting sideways on his lap, you peel your head away from his and straighten your left side, swallowed by his chest, so you can properly peer at him while continuing to talk. “Not to mention, that kiss wasn’t to steal your heart.”

You don’t care about this one stupid event, thinking he’s overreacting — that’s the singular reason why you could say you’re disappointed. Not only you’d gladly give him away to that woman, you also are sure he’s only going to hype himself with even more paranoia if you let it roll.

He seemingly doesn’t appreciate your lack of sympathy or understanding, not with the way his brows scrunch together and his lips purse, almost hurt by your frigid insight. He wanted you to be more possessive too so you could prove you recognize him as your lover; however, your apparent lack of being shaken by this ‘disloyalty’ is soothing in itself.

“I understand how counterproductive this is, and I’m glad you’re not feeling threatened by her, yet… could you please grant me this last one erasure? I promise, no more kisses after, and if I lie, you can slap me,” he pleads with desperation, gliding his hands over from your hips level to your waist. You click your tongue when you feel his leg impatiently jump from below your bottom.

You huff at his rather maniacal theatrics and look at his face that’s red from both blush and irritation. “I don’t believe you. I don’t think a slap would have stopped you.” He’d take more kisses even if he’d have to be slapped each time, you’re pretty sure about that — he would take anything from the person who refuses to touch him willingly.

“Oh, I beseech you to not be so pessimistic. I promise, I swear, I’ll let you be afterwards,” he smiles and speaks softly, but with his anxiety, the smile is crooked into an uncanny illusion. His face inches closer to yours and you shiver with disgust at his hot breath and clear excitement.

You foresee you won’t be getting any sleep if you won’t choose to cooperate — he’ll just keep nagging you until he wears you down into submission completely. Begrudgingly, you finally land your lips on his right cheek, and he doesn’t break his promise, as it’s really only one more…

…Except, his palms crush your side and head against him, forcing your plushiness to linger in the awful action of it marking him on his stained skin, as he soaks in your lips’ size, warmth, and texture. The labored exhale of contentment lands on your neck and grazes it unpleasantly.

Naturally, you struggle; you try to push him away with muffled screams against his cheek, your legs dangling off of his left side kicking. Yet, the man dazed by your closeness, only uses his mind to paint the image of some nasty and oozing scar slowly disappearing under your kiss.

This unfortunate incident lasts good fifteen seconds and ends only when he realizes he might have overdone his fixing, based upon the wetness on his face manifesting the beginning of your tears. He lets his arms leave you and wipes the moistness staining the softness of his precious birdie.

“Please, forgive me. I went ahead of myself,” while gentle, he doesn’t sound apologetic much. He senses his mind is cleared now, and it is his turn to kiss your cheek in poor attempt of soothing you, shushing and rocking you at that. The flinch you give him when you feel the intrusive lips is something he’s used by now, so once he’s done, he doesn’t question it.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. As his chest shrinks from the relieved breath and he looks pretty again with a happy smile, he helps you up on your feet and guides you to your shared room for rest.

Phainon simply couldn’t have helped himself. The idea of someone else touching him so intimately feels forbidden, because even if you didn’t ask for it, he is inclined to be yours only.

That’s just devotion, isn’t it?

It’s only a matter of time and opening your eyes until he gains your approval, even if the latter has to come forcefully.

[c4shm0neyxxx]

“The Quiet Between Us”

Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, slow-burn comfort

⸻

The wind was crisp today—cool enough to make you shiver despite the faint sunlight filtering through the trees in Yeongdeungpo Park. You tugged your sleeves over your hands and glanced beside you.

Yeon Si-eun was sitting on the park bench, back straight, hands resting neatly on his knees. His expression was neutral as always—guarded, distant—but you could tell he was relaxed in his own way. The gentle sway of his leg and the way he let out a soft breath every now and then told you more than his face ever did.

“You’re cold,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked. “What gave it away? My chattering teeth?”

His gaze flickered to you—dry, deadpan.

“You’re not that subtle,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. “You could offer me your jacket, you know. Like a proper gentleman.”

“I would,” he said without missing a beat, “but you’d probably drown in it.”

That made you laugh, and you didn’t miss the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. You loved that—you loved the way he didn’t smile often, but when he did, it felt like you’d uncovered something rare. You didn’t need big gestures with Si-eun. His presence, his quiet concern, was enough.

“You always come out here when you’re thinking,” you said, watching the small pond across from the bench. Ducks floated lazily, undisturbed by the cold.

“It’s quiet here.”

“You don’t like quiet?”

“No, I like it,” he said, turning his head slightly to look at you. “But when I’m with you, the quiet feels different.”

Your heart stuttered.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to say things like that. He wasn’t the type to offer compliments or be affectionate without reason. But every now and then, he dropped these quiet, thoughtful lines that left you breathless.

“Different how?” you asked softly.

Si-eun looked away, watching the leaves dance in the breeze. His brows drew together—not in irritation, just contemplation. You’d come to recognize the subtle shifts in his expressions.

“It’s not heavy,” he finally said. “Silence is usually… pressure. But with you, it’s not.”

You didn’t speak for a while, afraid that anything you said might shatter the moment. You simply leaned your shoulder into his, your touch light but intentional. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move away.

He let you stay there.

That was enough.

⸻

You and Si-eun weren’t dating—at least, not officially. You weren’t even sure what you were. Friends, maybe. Companions. Something suspended in that space between understanding and unspoken affection.

But days like this made you feel like you didn’t need a label.

“You know,” you said after a while, watching a kid try to feed bread to a pigeon twice his size, “most people wouldn’t pick a cold bench over their warm beds on a weekend.”

He shrugged. “Most people aren’t me.”

“Mm, true. But most people aren’t this pretty, either.”

That made him pause.

“Pretty?”

“You know you are,” you teased. “If you ever wanted to stop beating people up, you could just model for skincare brands. You’ve got that ‘stone-cold beauty’ thing going for you.”

He gave you a flat look, but his ears were pink. That was enough for you to claim victory.

“You’re weird,” he said quietly.

“So are you.”

There was a pause. He was still looking at you, his gaze lingering just a moment too long to be casual.

“That’s why I don’t mind being around you,” he murmured.

You were pretty sure your heart forgot how to beat for a second.

⸻

Later, the two of you wandered the nearby streets, your footsteps naturally falling in rhythm. Si-eun didn’t talk much, but his presence filled the space in other ways. You always noticed the little things—how he walked on the side closest to the road, how his eyes subtly scanned your surroundings, how he slowed his steps if you fell behind.

There was comfort in that. In knowing that he cared in ways that didn’t need to be said aloud.

You stopped in front of a small convenience store.

“Want hot chocolate?” you asked.

He nodded once. You ducked inside, grabbing two cans of warm cocoa from the heated shelf. When you came back out, he was leaning against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets, face turned up slightly to the sky like he was trying to read something in the clouds.

You handed him one can.

“Thanks,” he said, fingers brushing yours as he took it.

The contact made you warm in a way the drink couldn’t.

You both stood there for a moment, sipping cocoa in silence.

“I used to do this alone,” he said suddenly.

You looked at him.

“Come out on weekends. Watch people. Drink hot chocolate.”

You smiled. “Sounds lonely.”

“It was.”

His eyes met yours. There was something unguarded in his gaze, a softness that didn’t come often.

“It’s not anymore,” he said.

[simp-for-love]

I got you

Mattheo Riddle x femReader

After a grueling day, you can finally relax in your dorm. And your loving boyfriend is more than happy to help you with that.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise kink, swearing, established relationship, soft!mattheo, aftercare, using of 'baby girl', 'good girl'

A/N: I didn't intend to write smut, but the last few days got the best of me draining my soul. Hope my work will help you feel better as much as it does me.

Thanks to a sweet angel, Jess, for proofreading my first smutty work 💕

It was rare, but it happened. The kind of day when everything just felt like too much. Too noisy in the Great Hall during breakfast, too hard to understand the material in class, too incomprehensible to write down your answers for homework, too annoying to hang out with your friends — even though you loved them with all your heart. Everything today was just too much.

You walked to your dorm after spending two frustrating hours struggling over your Potions essay. No matter how much you tried, the words didn’t feel right, and the more you stared at the parchment, the worse it got. You knew you could do better — but not today. Not when every ounce of energy and focus had drained out of you. Maybe if you went to bed early, you could rewrite it tomorrow morning?

With a heavy sigh, you tossed your bag to the floor near the table. The day felt like an endless stretch of torture, and you were finally free — finally in the quiet comfort of your room. Here, you didn’t have to be anything but a lazy bundle wrapped in a blanket, free from responsibilities and expectations.

You opened the closet, reaching for something more comfortable. Your fingers brushed against a familiar grey shirt — Mattheo’s. It was oversized and soft, and even after multiple washes, it still carried the faintest scent of him. You slipped it on along with a pair of wide, comfy shorts, hoping the feel of his clothes would ease some of the tension humming beneath your skin.

With another dramatic sigh, you plopped onto your bed, letting your tired body sink into the mattress. Your eyes felt heavy, the weight of the day pulling you under as you burrowed deeper beneath the blanket.

For a few blissful minutes, the silence wrapped around you like a cocoon, and you let yourself breathe — slow and deep. But just as your mind began to drift, a knock at your door pulled you back.

Your brows furrowed in irritation. You didn’t want to see anyone. Not now. You ignored the sound, hoping whoever it was would get the hint. But then the soft click of the door opening made you lift your head slightly.

The annoyance faded the second you recognized the guest.

"Hey there, baby girl," Mattheo’s voice was warm, smooth like honey, and the sight of him sent a flutter through your chest. His dark curls were tousled as if he’d run his fingers through them on the way over, and the usual edge in his eyes softened when they landed on your form wrapped in the blanket.

He crossed the room, settling on the edge of your bed. His hand found you immediately, brushing down the curve of your shoulder and along your hip through the duvet — a touch so familiar, so comforting, it made your whole body relax.

“I haven't seen you since class," he murmured, his tone playful but laced with quiet concern. “Thought I’d come check on my girl.”

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the day loosen slightly at his presence. “Just… tired,” you admitted, your voice muffled as you tucked your face into the blanket. “It’s been a long day.”

Mattheo hummed in understanding, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your side. “Poor thing,” he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’m always here for you.”

His words settled something fragile inside you, melting the last traces of tension. Without a second thought, you shifted closer, and he took the invitation immediately — lifting the blanket and sliding in beside you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed softly in your ear.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know,” Mattheo whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

The warmth of his body seeped into yours, easing the ache that had followed you all day. His hand never stopped moving — gentle, absent-minded strokes along your back as if he was determined to chase every last trace of stress away.

For a moment, you let yourself melt into him, your body softening under his touch. But then Mattheo shifted slightly, and his fingers trailed up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His lips pressed a soft kiss against your temple — tender and lingering.

“You work too hard,” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. “You should let me take care of you sometimes.”

Before you could answer, he tilted your face gently toward him, brushing his lips across your cheek. The kiss was featherlight, but it sent a shiver down your spine. Another kiss followed, this time at the corner of your mouth, lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

His thumb traced along your jaw, tilting your head slightly to give him more access as his lips trailed a slow, deliberate path across your face. Each kiss was soft, unhurried — like he had all the time in the world to remind you how much he adored you.

“You’re too sweet to me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

Mattheo's hand slided down to the small of your back, his fingers splaying possessively but gently over the curve of your ass. He pulled you closer until every inch of your body was pressed against him, from your soft breasts to your long, slender legs. He wanted to absorb your warmth, your soul, your goodness. He wanted it to seep into his bones and heal all the broken, jagged pieces of himself.

"Too sweet?" he scoffed quietly at your words. Salazar, if you only knew how he was afraid that one day you would get tired of him. Of his darkness, of his recklessness, of his demons inside. No, he could never be too sweet for you. He just liked to show you his appreciation for your presence in his life, his awe of your existence, his utter and deep love for you.

“I’m not sweet,” he murmured quietly, but the teasing edge in his tone softened when he pressed a kiss to the delicate spot just beneath your ear. “I’m selfish. I just want you all to myself.”

The heat of his breath against your skin made your stomach flip in a familiar way. His kisses wandered lower, trailing along the curve of your jaw before he found the sensitive spot on your neck. His lips lingered there, soft and warm, as he placed an open-mouthed kiss against your pulse.

A quiet sigh slipped from your lips, and Mattheo hummed in satisfaction, clearly pleased by your reaction. “That’s better,” he said, his voice huskier now. “You’re finally relaxing.”

His hand slid from your butt under the blanket, finding the bare skin of your waist beneath his oversized shirt. His touch was gentle — slow, almost teasing — as his thumb stroked lazy circles over your hipbone.

“You smell like me,” Mattheo murmured against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. “I like it.”

His confession made your chest tighten in the best way. You tilted your head slightly without realizing it, giving him better access as his mouth continued its exploration — kissing, nipping softly, then soothing the spots with his tongue.

“Mattheo…” His name slipped from your lips, barely more than a breath, but it was enough to make him pause. He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours, and the warmth you found there made you swallow.

"I'm right here," he murmured softly, brushing his nose against your. He pecked you gently, upper lip at first, then the lower one. "Gonna be a good girl and let me help you relax, yeah?" His tone felt better than any soft and warm blanket, making your heart stumble on its rhythm. The familiar heat pooled down to your stomach.

"Yes. I will, Matty," you whispered in his lips, feeling the anticipation tingling in your body.

His warm smile made something clench painfully in your chest. Mattheo's hand moved further, from your hipbone to your stomach, running his fingers there slowly.

"That's it," he murmured softly. His hand moved further, his touch was careful. It was obvious he knew exactly where to go, where to touch, where to kiss. His calloused fingers slid with confidence and gentleness against your heated skin, as he took on the mission to leave no inch of your body untouched, and his own body shivered in response to the sensation of you — feeling every dip and curve under the shirt, his shirt that you were wearing.

He pressed his lips back against your skin, a soft kiss here, a soft kiss there. Your body responded every single time, your muscles relaxing under his touch.

Mattheo felt the tension in your body ease with every touch and kiss he placed. This was exactly what he wanted — you to relax, to let go of the worries of the day, and trust him completely.

His thumb traced a slow, soothing circle over the sensitive skin of your hip, his gaze roaming your face, taking in every detail — every flutter of your eyelashes, every soft exhale of your breath.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured quietly. "So damn beautiful." It was as if he couldn't believe you were real — that you were his, in his arms, letting him touch you, kiss you, make you feel good.

As his thumb continued its journey, tracing a path along the waistband of your shorts, his lips found that spot on your neck again. He sucked gently at your pulse point, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

Mattheo's words and actions made your body shiver, the sincerity in his voice making your breathing uneven. You lifted your hand, fingers tangling into the dark mass of curls at his nape, tugging him closer.

His touch was slightly rougher now as Mattheo played with the waistband of your panties. He wanted to feel your entire body respond to him, to have you arch your back against his hand.

Mattheo shifted slightly and gently tugged at the fabric, his lips moving to your ear. "Don't move," he whispered gruffly, his tone commanding. "Just let me take care of you."

The possessive edge in his voice made you swallow. You could hear the want and need in his words — the hunger for you, for your body in his hands.

His lips left a trail of kisses along your jawline as he continued to explore. His hands moved more confidently, his fingers dancing over your skin as he slowly pushed your shorts down your already trembling thighs.

Mattheo's hand skimmed along the bare skin of your legs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, in his oversized shirt, underwear, and nothing else, sprawled out in front of him on the bed. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," he murmured, his words a soft exhale against your neck. "So good for me. So fucking beautiful."

There was a note of reverence in his voice, as if he was worshipping you with every word. His hands began to move again, his large and warm palms sliding up the inside of your thighs, spreading them gently apart.

His hands went to remove your panties, his touch caring and soft. In his position, he was laying between your legs, his face was just above your mound. You tremlled at the sight of his eyes on you. "You look so perfect like this," he said in a low, a bit hoarse voice.

Mattheo leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his hot breath. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his tongue darting out to tease you. Then, in one smooth motion, his mouth was finally on you.

He started off slow, tongue tracing patterns along your folds, exploring, tasting. Mattheo knew exactly what he was doing, each movement calculated to give you pleasure, to worship you in the most intimate way. He took his time, every touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as if he could savour you.

"Oh fuck," you gasped softly. His tongue found your sensitive bud, and he circled it, flicking it tenderly before taking into his mouth, suckling and tugging gently on it in all the right ways. You couldn’t help but moan, your fingers burying in his hair, holding onto him as if your life depended on it. He continued to pay worship to you with his mouth, like you were a holy place he had long waited to pay a visit.

"Such a good girl, letting me take care of you," he cooed lowly as he sank a finger deep inside you, reveling in the tight heat that welcomed him. He moved slowly, savoring the slick glide as he pumped his finger in and out in a leisurely, steady rhythm. Your body reacted immediately to his presence, soft gasps and moans spilling from your lips.

Every stroke of his digit made your body arch, your breathing ragged and uneven. It felt so good, but yet not enough. "Mattheo," you whined breathlessly, your voice a quiet plea. "Please..."

"Shh, baby girl. It's okay. I got you," he murmured, returning his mouth on your clit. A second finger slid inside, joining the first one in their steady pace. You felt like heaven to him, like the best thing he had ever tasted. His name slipped from your lips, a moan that was music to his ears.

The wet sounds of your heat filled the room, punctuated by your own ragged pants and the occasional whimpers that escaped your mouth. Mattheo continued his ministrations, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure that you deserved. He could feel you getting wetter under his touch, responding to every move he made. He knew he was good, but the way you always reacted to him, the way you trembled and moaned, made him feel a surge of masculine pride, made him feel like a god.

"I love making you feel good. Love how I can make a pretty, intelligent girl like you whimper like that," he murmured, his tone a seductive and satisfied purr.

The pleasure he was giving you felt endless, a tidal wave of sensations that threatened to drown you in ecstasy. But nothing could prepare you for the moment when he curled his fingers inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars.

The blissful feeling was building, mounting with each flick of his tongue, each expert stroke of his fingers, each praise he was giving to you. Mattheo was relentless in his mission to make you feel wanted, needed, loved — his focus entirely on you. And you fully felt it.

His name spilled from your lips, a mixture of a moan and a plea. Mattheo responded to each of them with a low, satisfied hum, his eyes never leaving your face. He wanted to see every expression, every twist and gasp. He was drinking in the sight of you, completely focusing on your pleasure, on bringing you to the edge and making you feel good, just like you deserved.

The feeling of his fingers and lips on you was nearly overwhelming, and you couldn't help but whine, your voice catching in your throat. Your hands gripped his curls, desperate for something to hold onto, as you felt the tension coil low in your stomach. You were so close, and he knew it by the way your walls started to flutter around his fingers.

"Come for me, love," he coaxed against your skin, the words vibrating through your core. "Be a good girl for me and let go."

Mattheo's words sent another jolt of pleasure through you, and your body obeyed, clenching around his fingers. You felt yourself tipping over the edge, your fingers curled in his curls almost painfully as the tidal wave of the climax crashed over you.

He could feel you arousal gushing around his hand, essence dripping down onto the bed. The sight and sound of you coming undone on his fingers and mouth filled him with a deep sense of pride, possession, and love.

Mattheo didn’t stop. Even as you trembled and bucked against him, he continued his assault, his mouth and tongue relentless as they dragged every last aftershock from your trembling body. His lips and chin were covered in your juices, and the scent of your arousal only made him feel more hazy.

Just before he could overstimulate you, Mattheo carefully withdraw his fingers and mouth, placing the last gentle kiss on your inner thigh. He sat up, licking his fingers with a small smile on his lips, looking like a sated cat under the sun.

Then he bent over to the night table, taking your wand and casting the cleaning spell on both of you before gently pulling your shorts back on. With a satisfied smile he looked down at you, eyes shining with something warm and soft, something that made your heart flutter.

"Feel better, baby girl?" he murmured quietly as he slid back up the bed, gathering you in his arms, his body a comforting weight against yours.

"Always. You're mine to take care of, love," he said quietly in your hair, placing a gentle kiss on your head.

"Mhm," you hummed softly, nuzzling in the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Matty," you mumbled, feeling your body go limp as the tiredness of the day finally caught you in this relaxed and sated state.

[eclipixels]

Relentless

Kpop Idol x Reader

Content: You bother a K-pop idol, but he accidentally ends up falling for you

[6,605]

      You’re annoying.

      At least, that’s what he’s told you. Multiple times, actually.

      But do you care? Nope. Not even a little bit.

      Because why should you? When your ultimate bias is standing right in front of you at every fansign, every event, every concert, looking drop-dead gorgeous as always? And if you have to be just a tiny bit insufferable to get his attention, then so be it.

      “Did you miss me?” you chirp, grinning as you slide your album across the table.

      He sighs. Deeply. Like he’s summoning the patience of a thousand saints just to deal with you. “Didn’t I see you last week?”

      “Yup! And the week before that. And the week before that. And the week—”

      “I’m sensing a pattern,” he mutters, flipping open the page. His pen hovers over it for a second before he glances up. “Should I even bother signing? You probably have my autograph a hundred times already.”

      “Hundred and two, actually,” you correct, tapping your chin. “But who’s counting?”

      You’ve been on his radar for months now, your presence a constant thorn in his side. While other fans scream in adoration, you’re the one who relentlessly teases him. While others shower him with compliments, you’re the one who calls him out for looking like a sleep-deprived raccoon which, in your defense, he does.

      And at first, he hated it. He still does but he’s gotten more used to it now.

      “You know,” you say, leaning closer as he signs your album. “If you keep staring at me like that, people are gonna think you’re in love with me.”

      He chokes. Actually chokes. Coughing into his fist as his ears turn a suspicious shade of red.

      “You—” He glares at you, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re so—”

      “Charming? Stunning? The love of your life?”

      “I was going to say infuriating,” he deadpans.

      “You got a giant pimple on your chin by the way.” You mess with him.

      “Wait what?” He panics, pulling out his phone camera to look only to see you had been lying. You laugh but he just glares at you.

      “I’m calling security.”

      “I’m leaving! I’m leaving!” You yelp before speed-walking away.

      It’s the same thing every time. You show up. You tease him. He gives you a death glare. He doesn’t hide his irritation or put on the ‘always appease the fans’ personality.

      And that is why you keep coming back. It’s gotten entertaining now, he kind of expects it everytime his group is having an event. It’s kind of fun seeing you and the disaster you bring. Even if he’d rather die than admit it.

      One day, you stop showing up.

      It takes him a while to notice.

      At first, he just thinks it’s a coincidence. Maybe you finally got bored of teasing him. Maybe you ran out of albums to get signed. Maybe you found some other idol to annoy instead of him.

      It shouldn’t bother him.

      And yet, it does.

      He doesn’t realize how much he’s grown used to your presence until it’s gone. No smug grins at fansigns. No playful insults thrown his way. No exasperating banter that secretly made his days a little less exhausting.

      The first week without you, he feels… relieved.

      The second week, he feels off.

      The third week, he starts searching for you in every crowd.

      And by the fourth week, he knows something is wrong.

      It’s not like he has a way to contact you, he doesn’t even know your full name. But, by some miracle, he finds you. It’s past midnight when he sees you again.

      He almost doesn’t recognize you at first. You’re curled up on the bench of a park near his apartment, arms wrapped around yourself as the rain pours down. Your usual playful confidence is gone, replaced with something small. Fragile.

      Something inside him twists at the sight.

      He doesn’t think. He just moves.

      “Hey.”

      You flinch at his voice, eyes wide as you look up. The dim streetlight barely illuminates your face, but it’s enough for him to see the tear tracks mixed with the rain.

      For the first time since he’s known you, you’re not smirking. You’re not teasing. You’re just—broken.

      “What… what are you doing here?” you whisper, voice hoarse.

      He frowns, ignoring the rain soaking through his hoodie as he crouches in front of you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

      You let out a weak, bitter laugh. “I could give you a hundred and two reasons.”

      Normally, he’d have a snarky reply ready. But right now? Right now, he just wants to know what’s wrong.

      His voice is softer than he means it to be. “Y/n, what happened?”

      You hesitate. For the first time, you actually hesitate. But then your shoulders shake, and suddenly, you’re unraveling right in front of him.

      “Everything just—everything went wrong, and I didn’t know where else to—” You whisper, voice cracking

      Your breath hitches, and before he can think twice about it, he’s already shrugging off his hoodie, draping it over you. His hand lingers on your shoulder, grounding you.

      “Come on,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Let’s get you out of the rain.”

      You blink at him, like you can’t quite believe this is happening. Like you were expecting him to brush you off. But he doesn’t. Because right now, you’re not the annoying fan who used to drive him insane.

      Right now, you’re just you. Another person just like him.

      You don’t argue. You just let him help you up. And as he leads you inside to his apartment, away from the cold, away from whatever is haunting you, he realizes something.

      He’s missed you.

      You’re dry now. Mostly. His apartment looks nice. You can’t believe how many times you’ve walked past the area oblivious to the fact your favorite kpop idol lives right there.

      Sitting on his couch, wrapped in a blanket that smells faintly of laundry detergent and something undeniably him, you grip the cup of tea he shoved into your hands the second you stepped inside. You’re still cold, though. Not from the rain, but from everything else.

      He’s sitting across from you, his shirt damp from the rain, arms crossed as he leans back. He hasn’t asked you to leave. Hasn’t told you you’re being annoying. Hasn’t even made a sarcastic comment.

      You let out a slow breath, staring at the steam rising from the tea. “You don’t have to be nice to me, you know.”

      He exhales sharply through his nose. “Trust me, I know.”

      That earns the faintest hint of a smile from you, but it disappears as quickly as it came. The silence stretches between you, thick and unfamiliar. Normally, you’d fill it with some dumb remark, poke at him just to see him roll his eyes.

      But tonight you don’t have the energy.

      “I don’t even know why you let me come here,” you admit. “It’s not like we’re actually friends.”

      His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t argue.

      You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “But I appreciate it since nothing in my life is going right.”

      He watches you, eyes unreadable. “Yeah?”

      You scoff, curling further into the blanket. “Yeah.”

      And then, before you can stop yourself, you start talking.

      You tell him about your job that sucks. About the bills that won’t stop piling up. About how it feels like the universe has some personal vendetta against you.

      And then, finally—

      “…And then I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me.”

      You don’t look at him when you say it. It’s less embarrassing that way. But he stills. You don’t notice at first, too busy staring at the swirling tea in your mug.

      “…Boyfriend?” His voice is sharper than you expect.

      You glance up, confused by the expression on his face.

      His brow furrows. “You have a boyfriend?”

      There’s something off about the way he says it. Something tense. Like he’s testing the words out, like they feel wrong in his mouth.

      You blink. “Had.”

      His eyes flick to yours. Just for a second. Enough for you to see relief flicker in them, but it’s gone before you can process it.

      “Huh.” He leans back, arms still crossed, gaze flicking to the side. “Didn’t know that.”

      You let out a bitter laugh. “Guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

      He doesn’t answer right away. And when he finally does, his voice is quieter.

      “No. Guess not.”

      Another silence. This one is heavier than before.

      You sip your tea, pretending not to notice the way his fingers tighten slightly on his arm. Pretending not to notice the way he hasn’t looked at you since you said ‘had’.

      And he? He pretends he doesn’t care. Even though, for some reason, he does. More than he wants to admit.

      “I should’ve known,” you mutter, voice dull. “He was always too smooth. Too good at talking his way out of things.”

      Across from you, he shifts, watching you carefully. “How’d you find out?”

      You snort. “Instagram.”

      His brows raise slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that.

      “I was so stupid,” you continue, laughing bitterly. “This whole time, I thought I was paranoid. I even told myself, no, you’re just overthinking it. But then, boom—he slips up. Some girl posts a story of them together at a hotel. Tags him in it. And just like that, it’s over.”

      You don’t even realize you’re gripping the blanket tighter until you feel the fabric bunch beneath your fingers.

      Silence.

      And then—

      “…He’s an idiot.”

      You blink, looking up.

      He’s staring at you now, expression unreadable, but his voice is firm. Steady.

      You let out a scoff. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

      His gaze flickers over your face. For a moment, he looks like he wants to say something else. But instead, he just leans forward, resting his arms on his knees.

      “You mad at him?”

      You think about it. Let the question settle in your chest.

      “…No.” You exhale. “I’m just mad at myself.”

      His brow furrows slightly. “Why?”

      “Because I let it happen.” You shake your head. “I should’ve seen the signs. I should’ve trusted my gut. I wasted so much time on him, and for what?”

      The words taste bitter in your mouth. But before you can dwell on it, he exhales, running a hand through his damp hair. “You’re not the only one who’s been through it, you know.”

      You blink. “What?”

      His jaw clenches, like he’s debating whether or not to say more. But then he sighs, shaking his head. “I’ve been there too. The whole ‘getting cheated on’ thing.”

      Your eyes widen. Someone cheated on him? Were they stupid? “Wait. You?”

      He nods once, gaze flicking to the side.

      You sit up straighter, fully invested now. “Who?”

      At that, he hesitates. His fingers tap lightly against the couch, a nervous habit you’ve never seen from him before.

      “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

      You blink at him, taken aback by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “Do I need to sign an NDA?”

      “That’d probably be a good idea” he says, looking at you now, eyes sharp and unwavering, “But I don’t have any lying around so just promise not to blabber.”

      You pause. Then, with the most solemn expression you can muster, you raise a hand. “I solemnly swear that I, Y/n L/n, will take this secret to my grave.”

      Huh, so that was your full name. Then, after another long pause, he finally says it.

      “Myra.”

      Your brain short-circuits. “Wait. Kim Myra?”

      Kim Myra—the nation’s sweetheart, lead vocalist of Lulupop, one of the biggest girl groups in the industry? The same Kim Myra who made headlines last year for her K-drama debut?

      That Myra?

      “She cheated on you?” you say, still trying to process the information.

      He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Yup.”

      “With who?”

      Another pause. And then, with a sigh, he mutters, “Kevin.”

      Your jaw drops.

      Kevin Ngyuen the half Vietnamese and half Korean actor? Her flipping co-star in that ridiculously popular debut drama she starred in last year. The one everyone swore had “undeniable chemistry.” The one she denied being involved with a thousand times in interviews.

      “Holy shit,” you breathe. “Are you serious?”

      “Dead serious.” He leans back, rubbing his temples. “It was a whole thing. I found out during the drama’s press tour. They were sneaking around behind my back for months.”

      You stare at him, mind racing. “How did this not get out?”

      He gives you a flat look. “Come on. You really think companies let this stuff leak?”

      That gets your attention. You shift, turning to face him fully. “Okay, spill. How often does this actually happen? Because every time an idol gets exposed for dating, people act like it’s some rare phenomenon.”

      He scoffs. “Please. It happens all the time.”

      You gape at him. “All the time?”

      He nods, stretching his legs out. “Most idols date in secret. Sometimes it’s other idols, sometimes it’s actors, sometimes it’s staff. Hell, sometimes it’s fans.”

      Your eyes widen. “Fans?”

      He shrugs. “Yeah. Not often, but it happens.”

      Your mind is spinning. The media paints idols as these untouchable figures, too busy to date, too devoted to their careers. But here he is, casually confirming that half the industry is dating behind closed doors.

      “So let me get this straight,” you say, crossing your arms. “You’re telling me that while we, the peasants, are out here fighting over crumbs of interactions, you guys are out there secretly dating each other?”

      He smirks. “Pretty much.”

      You groan, flopping back against the couch. “I feel so betrayed.”

      He actually laughs at that—a real laugh, not the sarcastic ones he usually gives you. And for some reason, it makes something warm settle in your chest. You watch him carefully. For the first time, he looks… vulnerable. Not the cocky idol who always rolled his eyes at you. Not the guy who (rightfully) acts like you were the most annoying person in the world.

      Just a guy who got his heart broken, the same way you did.

      “…She’s an idiot,” you say eventually.

      He glances at you, lips twitching. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

      The rain has slowed to a faint drizzle, tapping softly against the window. You’re still curled up on his couch, still wrapped in his blanket, still reeling from the fact that you just got industry tea straight from the source.

      And yet, the weirdest part?

      You’re not freaking out.

      Like, logically, you should be. You’re in the apartment of a K-pop idol. But here you are, having a normal conversation with him like this is just… a thing that happens.

      He shifts, resting an arm against the back of the couch. Then, almost absentmindedly, he mutters, “You know… this is the first time I’ve let a stranger into my house.”

      You blink, caught off guard. “Huh?”

      He tilts his head slightly, watching you. “I’ve never talked to a fan like this before, let alone allow one into my place.”

      You let out a small laugh. “This is kind of crazy, isn’t it?”

      He raises an eyebrow. “What is?”

      “This.” You motion between the two of you. “I’m literally sitting in a celebrity’s house, and I’m not even freaking out. It’s like…” You trail off, thinking.

      “…Like?” he prompts.

      You shrug. “Like we’ve been friends or something for years.”

      His lips twitch. “Oh, a friend, huh?”

      You don’t miss the way his gaze sharpens, playful and teasing. Then, with a smirk, he leans forward just slightly. “You probably have, like, a gajillion pictures of my face in your camera roll.”

      Your face heats. “I—okay, first of all—”

      “Oh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I?” His smirk widens. “How many are we talking? A hundred? Two hundred?”

      You cross your arms. “I don’t have that many.”

      He hums, unconvinced. “You sure?”

      “Okay, maybe a few, but that’s normal—”

      “So you do like me.”

      You sputter. “Excuse me?”

      His eyes gleam with amusement, head tilting slightly. “You like me.”

      “I used to like you,” you correct quickly, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Past tense.”

      He snorts. “Right. Past tense.”

      “Yes.”

      There’s a beat of silence. Then—

      “Still doesn’t explain why you showed up to every fansign just to bother me.”

      You groan. “Oh my god, can you let it go?”

      He chuckles, clearly enjoying this way too much.

      You decide to change the subject before he can keep teasing you. “Anyway. Moving on. We’re getting off track.”

      He smirks but doesn’t argue.

      And somehow, just like that, the conversation flows into something easier. More natural.

      You talk about random things—childhood memories, weird pet peeves, stupid things you’ve both done. And the more you talk, the more you realize just how much you actually have in common.

      You both hate the taste of parsley. You both secretly love trashy reality TV. You both have a fear of roaches.

      “They’re just creepy, okay?” he mutters.

      You nod solemnly. “Agreed.”

      “That’s so exhausting,” you mutter as he rambles on about the complicated life of being a celebirty.

      “Welcome to the industry.”

      You tilt your head, watching him. “Do you ever regret it?”

      The question catches him off guard. His brows furrow slightly, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer.

      Then, after a beat, he exhales. “I don’t know. Some days, yeah. But I signed up for this, so…” He shrugs.

      You don’t know why, but the way he says it—so nonchalant, so matter-of-fact—makes your chest feel a little tight. Because for all the glamour, all the fame, all the screaming fans and flashing cameras… it must be lonely. And you’re starting to wonder if he’s lonelier than he lets on.

      You shift slightly, resting your head against the couch. “You know,” you say, staring at the ceiling, “I always thought being an idol was, like, the dream life.”

      He snorts. “Yeah? Still think that now?”

      You hum, considering. “I mean… parts of it, sure. The music, the performances. But all the other stuff? The restrictions, the constant scrutiny, the… fake smiles?” You glance at him. “I don’t think I’d last a day.”

      His lips quirk slightly. “Yeah. You’re too stubborn to follow company rules.”

      You gasp. “Excuse me?”

      “You heard me.” He smirks, shifting so he’s facing you fully. “They’d tell you to keep your head down, and you’d be out there starting fights with reporters.”

      You cross your arms. “I would not.”

      He raises an eyebrow.

      “…Okay, maybe I would,” you admit. “But that’s beside the point.”

      His chuckle is soft, barely there. But you hear it. And for some reason, it makes something warm settle in your chest.

      “You know,” he murmurs, breaking the silence, “you’re not what I expected.”

      You blink. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      He tilts his head, studying you. “I don’t know. I just figured… I don’t even know what I figured. But it wasn’t this.”

      You raise an eyebrow. “Wasn’t what?”

      He exhales, shaking his head. “I don’t know. You’re just… normal.”

      You let out a dramatic gasp. “Wow. What a compliment.”

      He laughs, low and breathy. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

      And yeah. Maybe you do.

      You stretch your arms above your head, letting out a yawn. “Whatever. You don’t even know me.”

      He scoffs. “Same could be said about you.”

      But that makes you sit up, an eyebrow raised. “No, see, I actually do know you.”

      He leans back against the couch, smirking. “Oh yeah?”

      You nod, shifting to face him. “For example—you grew up with a corgi.” You pause for effect. “Your favorite anime is fruit basket. You trained for five years before debuting. You love mint chocolate—”

      At that, he suddenly bursts out laughing.

      You blink. “What?”

      “Oh my god.” He covers his face with his hand, still laughing. “That is so wrong.”

      Your brows furrow. “Huh?”

      “My favorite anime is blood C” he says, “But that was too graphic for my label so I had to lie about it”

      “And I hate mint chocolate.” He shakes his head, still grinning. “My company made me lie about that too.”

      You gasp. “Are you serious?”

      He stretches his legs out, exhaling dramatically. “They assigned me this whole personality—‘the sweet, playful vocalist who loves cute things. They made me do so much aegyo during our rookie days. I swear, I was dying inside. Like geniunelly an angel lost its wings everytime they made me sing that fuck ass ottoke ottoke song.”

      At that, you lose it, laughing so hard your sides hurt.

      “Wow. So all those ‘cute’ moments in variety shows—”

      “Forced. Every single one.”

      You shake your head, still grinning. “Damn. Your whole life on camera is a lie.”

      “Pretty much.” He sighs, shaking his head.

      You tilt your head. “Yeah, okay. Who is the real you, then?”

      He leans back, thinking for a moment. Then, he starts listing.

      “I hate aegyo, if that wasn’t obvious by now. I suck at cooking, but I can make instant ramen taste amazing. I get restless if I sit in one place too long. I used to sneak out during trainee days just to take a breather because the dorms were hell.”

      You listen intently as he continues.

      “I love staying up late. I overthink a lot. I hate being told what to do. And—” He pauses, eyes flicking toward the ceiling in thought. “—oh. When I was a kid, I once cried for, like, three hours straight because my ice cream fell on the floor.”

      You burst out laughing. “Three hours?!”

      “It was tragic, okay?” He places a hand on his chest dramatically. “And I was five.”

      You shake your head, still laughing. “Wow. You were a menace.”

      “Still am,” he quips.

      You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingers.

      Then—his gaze shifts back to you, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

      “Okay, your turn.”

      You blink. “Huh?”

      He tilts his head. “I just told you who I really am. Now it’s your turn.” He smirks. “Because as far as I know, you’re just an obsessed fan with a messy life.”

      You huff, crossing your arms. “Wow. Rude.”

      “Am I wrong?”

      “…No, but still.”

      His smirk deepens. “So? Who are you, really?”

      You open your mouth, then close it. Because, honestly? You’re not sure how to answer that. And for the first time tonight… you think he can tell. You fidget with the edge of the blanket draped over you, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze.

      “Who am I, really?” you echo, stalling.

      He shrugs, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah. Since, y’know, I actually answered.”

      You roll your eyes. “Okay, okay. Geez.”

      But now that the question is out there, you don’t know where to start. Because who are you, really? You could go the surface-level route—basic facts, the kind of stuff you’d put in a ‘get to know me’ post. Or you could be real, like he was, peeling back the layers, saying the stuff you don’t usually admit. Your fingers tighten around the fabric of the blanket. He’s watching you, waiting. And for some reason, despite how ridiculous this entire situation is, you kind of want to answer honestly.

      So you exhale and start.

      “I’m the kind of person who laughs at their own jokes before even finishing them.” You scoff at yourself. “I stay up way too late and regret it every morning. I’m really bad at responding to texts, even though I always have my phone on me. And I—” You hesitate, but push forward. “—I overthink everything. Like, everything. I make up problems that don’t even exist sometimes, just so I have something to be stressed about.”

      You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, and I have a terrible habit of pretending I’m okay when I’m actually so not.”

      You glance at him, expecting—what? Judgment? Pity? You’re not sure.

      But he’s just watching you. Quietly. Like he’s actually listening.

      So you continue.

      “I get attached to people way too easily. It’s honestly embarrassing. And I hate it, because most of the time, they don’t even care that much about me in return.” You shrug, forcing a small smile. “Guess that’s my fault, though. I expect too much from people.”

      You don’t know why you’re saying all this. Maybe it’s because you’re tired, or maybe it’s because, for once, you don’t feel like you have to pretend.

      Either way, the words just keep coming.

      “I act all tough, but I take things way too personally. If someone I care about starts acting distant, I automatically assume I did something wrong.” You huff out a laugh. “I hate that about myself, honestly. But, y’know… can’t really turn my brain off.”

      You fall silent, staring at the fabric in your hands, feeling weirdly vulnerable.

      Then—

      “That,” he says, voice softer than before, “was not what I was expecting.”

      You scoff. “Yeah, well. Neither was tonight.”

      He chuckles. Then, after a beat—

      “You know what’s funny?”

      You glance at him. “What?”

      He leans back, arms crossed, smirking slightly. “For someone who annoys the hell out of me, you sound a lot like me.”

      You blink. “Wait. You overthink everything too?”

      “All the time.” He exhales through his nose. “It’s exhausting.”

      You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, damn. Maybe I do know you.”

      His gaze lingers on you for a second longer. Then—

      “Yeah.” His lips twitch. “Maybe you do.”

      You glance over at him, unsure how to break the silence, but he speaks first.

      “You can stay the night if you want.”

      You blink, caught off guard. “Huh?”

      His voice is low, relaxed, like he’s been thinking about it for a while. “I mean, it’s getting late, and you’ve been through enough tonight. You can stay in the guest room. No pressure.”

      Your heart races a little at the offer, and you instinctively open your mouth to decline. “Nah, it’s really fine. The weather’s—”

      Just as you’re about to finish, a sudden crack of thunder shakes the walls.

      You freeze, looking toward the window, and the hairs on your arms stand on end. You glance at him, confused. “That was… loud.”

      Before you can say anything else, the wind picks up, howling against the glass. The first hailstone hits the window with a sharp thunk, followed by another, and then another.

      You’re caught in the sudden chaos of weather. The storm that had seemed far off only moments ago now feels like it’s directly on top of you.

      He watches you, his eyes soft but firm. “Yeah. It’s now hailing outside. You’re not going anywhere.”

      You blink, feeling a rush of uncertainty. “But I—”

      “Stay,” he insists, his voice calm, reassuring. “You can’t go out in this. It’s not safe.”

      You swallow, the sudden realization hitting you that he’s right. The storm is now battering against the windows with intensity. The wind howls, the thunder rumbles louder, and the hail sounds almost like it’s trying to break through the glass.

      You hesitate. “But I don’t want to be a bother—”

      He cuts you off, eyes not leaving yours, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s fine. Really. It’s just one night.”

      You open your mouth to argue again, but the sheer thought of stepping out into the storm is enough to make you reconsider. The last thing you need right now is to get caught out there, drenched and cold.

      With a reluctant sigh, you nod. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stay. But only because the weather is insane.”

      He gives a small nod of satisfaction, his expression softening just a touch. He stands, stretching his legs. “I’ll show you the guest room. It’s just down the hall.”

      You follow him down the hallway, the quiet hum of the apartment now replaced with the distant rumble of thunder and the sharp tink-tink of hail.

      He leads you into a modestly furnished guest room, with a neatly made bed and soft, dim lighting that creates a warm, inviting atmosphere.

      “Make yourself at home,” he says, his voice more casual now. “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.”

      You glance back at him, feeling a little out of place but oddly comfortable. “Thanks.”

      He hesitates in the doorway for a moment, looking at you like he’s about to say something else, but then he just nods once and leaves.

      As you settle into the bed, the storm outside continues to rage, but inside, everything feels calmer, quieter. You close your eyes, trying to shake the feeling of being in his space, of being taken care of.

      The storm doesn’t let up. If anything, it gets worse. You can hear the wind howling through the cracks of the apartment, the heavy thunk of hailstones smacking against the windows.

      You should be sleeping. But you’re not.

      Instead, you’re lying on your side, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing too fast to settle.

      There’s a soft knock at the door.

      You sit up slightly. “Yeah?”

      The door creaks open, and he steps inside, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks… uneasy, like he’s debating whether or not he should even be here.

      “I, uh—” He hesitates. “Couldn’t sleep.”

      You exhale a small laugh. “Yeah, me neither.”

      He nods, lingering by the doorway before eventually sighing and stepping inside. “The storm’s kinda loud.”

      You smirk. “You scared or something?”

      He scoffs. “No.” Then, after a beat, “Just… restless.”

      You watch as he walks over, hesitating before sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s close, closer than before. The dim lighting casts soft shadows on his face, highlighting the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers press against his knees like he’s holding himself back from something.

      The air shifts.

      Neither of you speak, but you can feel it, the weight of everything unsaid pressing into the space between you.

      You swallow. “What?”

      His gaze flickers to yours. “What?”

      “You’re looking at me like…” You trail off, suddenly self-conscious.

      He doesn’t answer right away. Just studies you, his lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something, but then—

      He kisses you.

      It happens so fast you barely process it. His lips press against yours. Firm, hesitant, like he’s not sure if he’s making a mistake but can’t stop himself.

      Your breath catches.

      It’s warm. It’s soft. It’s…

      Over too soon.

      He pulls back immediately, his eyes widening like he just broke every unspoken rule in existence.

      “Shit,” he breathes out, running a hand through his hair. “I—” He stands up abruptly, pacing. “That was, fuck. That was so unprofessional of me.”

      You blink, still trying to process what just happened. “Unprofessional?”

      He groans. “I mean you’re a fan. You were literally crying outside my apartment, like—this is just—” He groans again, dragging his hand down his face. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

      You just stare at him. “So… was it bad?”

      He freezes.

      Slowly, he turns to you, blinking like the thought never even occurred to him. “…What?”

      You raise an eyebrow. “The kiss. Was it bad?”

      He looks almost offended. “No. That’s not the point.”

      You tilt your head, lips twitching. “So it was good?”

      He glares at you. “Stop.”

      You can’t help it, you laugh.

      Because despite his whole internal crisis, despite the way he’s pacing like he just ruined his career or something, he kissed you first.

      And that means something.

      He sighs, exasperated, before finally looking at you again. His expression softens—just slightly. “I’m serious. That was…” He exhales. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

      You hum, still amused. “But it did.”

      The moment is thick with tension, something unspoken hanging between the two of you, stretching out like an invisible thread waiting to snap.

      “This.” His voice is edged with something unsteady as he gestures vaguely between the two of you, his fingers twitching like he wants to take the word back as soon as it leaves his lips. “I wasn’t supposed to—” His sentence cuts off abruptly, his jaw clenching hard as if he's physically stopping himself from saying more.

      You narrow your eyes, your gaze locking onto his, searching for whatever it is he’s trying so desperately to keep from you. “Wasn’t supposed to what?”

      His eyes flicker to yours for only a second, but it’s enough. Enough to send something sharp and unexpected shooting through you, making your breath hitch in your throat.

      “…Start liking you.”

      The words are so quiet, you almost think you imagined them. They are hesitant, fragile, as though speaking them aloud makes them more real than he’s ready for. Like he’s admitting something he never planned to, something he never thought he’d have to.

      Your stomach flips, and suddenly, for the first time since the kiss, you’re the one feeling thrown off balance.

      You blink at him, unsure if you even heard him correctly. “You—”

      “Forget it,” he mutters quickly, already shaking his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw like he regrets every syllable. “Just—”

      “No.” You sit up straighter, your voice firm. “You can’t just say that and expect me to forget it.”

      He exhales sharply, his gaze darting away from you. “I know. I just…” He groans under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair in clear frustration. “This is a mess.”

      You study him carefully, taking in every detail—the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers clench at his sides, the unmistakable war waging behind his eyes. He looks so genuinely conflicted, like he’s fighting against himself, and maybe he is.

      And then, because you can’t help yourself, because some part of you needs to hear him say it again, you murmur, “You liking me is a mess?”

      His head snaps back toward you, and for a brief moment, he looks utterly, completely exasperated. “Yes. Obviously. You’re a fan—”

      “Was a fan,” you interject smoothly, crossing your arms over your chest.

      He glares. “That doesn’t make this any better.”

      You smirk. “I think it does.”

      He exhales sharply, shaking his head in frustration. “You’re impossible.”

      You simply grin at him, but inside, your heart is pounding. Because it doesn’t matter how much he denies it, how much he tries to fight it—the truth is out now. He likes you. He wasn’t supposed to, he doesn’t want to, but he does. And now, neither of you knows what to do with it.

      Outside, the storm continues to rage, wind and rain slamming against the windows, but inside, you’re both just standing there, frozen in this moment, waiting for something—anything—to break the silence.

      You shift slightly on the bed, tilting your head at him. “So, let me get this straight.”

      He pinches the bridge of his nose, already looking pained. “Oh my God.”

      “You kissed me.”

      “Yes, I know.” His tone is flat, resigned.

      “And you like me.”

      He groans, running a hand down his face. “I literally just said that.”

      You smirk. “And somehow that’s the problem?”

      His hands drop to his sides, and he just stares at you, completely unamused. “Yes.”

      You swallow, forcing yourself to keep your voice casual. “Okay.”

      He blinks, his brows furrowing. “Okay?”

      You nod, leaning back on your hands, your expression unreadable. “Okay. So don’t like me, then.”

      His jaw tightens, his entire body going rigid. “I should go,” he says suddenly, voice stiff.

      He says he should go. But he doesn’t move. Instead, he just stands there, staring at you like you’re the most frustrating puzzle he’s ever had to solve. And maybe you are.

      You tilt your head slightly, a teasing edge to your voice. “Still here.”

      His jaw clenches harder. “I know.”

      Your smirk widens. “So much for I should go.”

      He groans, dragging a hand down his face before muttering, “You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

      You shrug, entirely unfazed. “Not the first time you’ve said that.”

      “I meant it every time.”

      The air between you shifts again, the tension mounting, thick and almost suffocating. You don’t know how you got here, how things escalated to this point, how you went from being someone he wanted nothing to do with—to whatever this is.

      He sighs, finally breaking eye contact, his shoulders tense. “This is a bad idea.”

      You hum in agreement. “Probably.”

      He turns back to you, eyes searching yours, his voice low. “Then why aren’t you stopping me?”

      You swallow, suddenly hyperaware of how close he’s gotten. You should stop him. You should say something to break the tension, to shift the mood before it spirals into something neither of you can take back.

      “Because you don’t want me to.” You whisper

      His breath catches. And just like that, whatever restraint he had left—snaps.

      Because the second his gaze drops to your lips again—

      You pull him back in. This time, it’s different. This time, it’s desperate.

      You barely have time to react before his hands are on you again—one curling into the back of your hair, the other gripping your waist, tugging you forward until there’s no space left between you. His lips crash against yours, and you can feel the restraint he’s been holding onto for so long break completely.

      You match his intensity, your fingers twisting into his shirt, pulling him closer, like you need to feel all of him. His hands tighten on you in response, and then suddenly, he’s moving, guiding you back until your legs hit the mattress.

      You fall back slightly, breath hitching as he follows, hovering over you, his weight pressing down in the most intoxicating way. His lips leave yours just long enough to trail down, grazing your jaw, your neck—hot, open-mouthed kisses that send shivers down your spine.

      “Shit,” you breathe, gripping his shoulders.

      He exhales sharply, like your voice alone is enough to make him lose whatever control he has left. His teeth graze your skin, and you shudder, your fingers tangling into his hair.

      You exhale a little laugh, breaking the silence. “I so have to sign an NDA now, don’t I?”

      He opens one eye, glancing at you, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “You gonna keep showing up to my events?”

      You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. “Are you implying I’ve been stalking you this whole time?”

      He lets out a soft laugh, turning to face you fully. “No. But you did seem pretty persistent.”

      You grin, leaning back on your hands. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

      He sighs, rolling onto his side to face you. “Then yeah. You’ll need an NDA.”

      You bite your lip, pretending to think about it, then nod slowly. “Fine, I’ll sign. But only if you promise to stop acting like I’m some crazy fan who’s not actually pretty cool.”

      He chuckles, his eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place. “You’re definitely crazy, but I’ll admit, you’re kind of cool.”

      You roll your eyes, but there’s warmth in your chest. “Oh, thanks.”

      He shrugs, but the smile never leaves his face. “You’re welcome.”

      The storm outside has finally quieted, leaving only the occasional distant rumble as a reminder of how chaotic things once were. The space between you and him is still charged with everything you’ve just shared, but there’s a peaceful calm settling in. The kind that comes with knowing that, no matter how strange or messed up this situation is, there’s something real here. Something that sticks.

      You look over at him. He’s lying back on the pillow, his eyes closed, a faint smile on his lips, but there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now—something softer.

[saltywritings]

Unsworn Protector ( Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen Niece! Reader )

Summary: The reader is sent to Old Town with Daeron, however, is left in an uncomfortable situation when her uncle finds her with a pillow.

Warnings: explicit smut under the cut minors do not interact, incest, age gap, reader has a pillow princess moment, oral (female receiving), penetration, Gwayne is giving sub vibes.

Word count: 3,728

The journey to Old Town was arduous and slow, a monotonous trek that seemed designed to drain one's spirit. Few things could be more disheartening than being sent to Old Town, a place that felt like exile. Your mother, the queen, insisted that sending you and your younger brother Daeron there was for the best, claiming it would build character—whatever that meant. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that she simply preferred not to deal with you. Sending you and Daeron away made it easier for her to focus on Aegon. Despite her intentions, you were frustrated by being uprooted from your home, all in the name of this so-called character building.

When the carriage finally arrived in Old Town, your eyes took in the sights as you traveled swiftly through the city. Having spent your entire life in King's Landing, Old Town seemed exceptionally small. You noticed the tall walls surrounding the castle, some sections near the gate clad in ivy.

"Finally, we're here," Daeron exclaimed as he rushed to the carriage door, eager to free himself from its confines.

With a mix of frustration and disgust, you pushed at your brother’s back as he deliberately blocked the carriage door, trapping you inside. "Daeron!" you shouted, your hands shoving at the coarse fabric of his shirt. "Let me out, you fool!" You struggled against him as he laughed, his mirth only heightening your irritation.

Suddenly, another voice cut through the commotion. "Come now, my prince. Let your sister out," it urged. Reluctantly, Daeron relented and stepped down the few stairs, finally freeing you from the confined space of the carriage.

As you finally freed yourself from the carriage, you realized the voice belonged to your uncle, Gwayne Hightower. Though many years had passed since you last saw him, you recognized him instantly. Stepping forward, your feet now firmly planted on the ground, you shot a sharp glare at Daeron, resisting the urge to shove him, before turning back to your uncle.

"Thank you, Uncle," you said with a small nod.

Daeron, looking bewildered, finally noticed Gwayne. "Oh—Uncle Gwayne. I didn’t recognize you," he replied, prompting you to narrow your eyes.

"I’m not surprised," you said. "You were but a babe the last time he visited."

"Indeed you were," Gwayne said with a warm smile. "I'm surprised you recognize me, Princess. You've grown as much as your brother."

He stepped forward, extending his hand toward you. You raised yours to meet his, and he took it gently, bringing it to his lips with a delicate kiss that conveyed a soft, caring warmth. Your eyes fluttered slightly as you looked at him, appreciating the affectionate gesture.

"You've grown so much," he remarked, turning his attention to Daeron.

"I'm certain I haven't grown that much," you insisted with a modest smile.

Daeron glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and snorted. "Oh, trust me, you’ve grown—just not in height, sister," he mocked. Unable to restrain yourself, you gave him a small shove in response.

Your uncle watched the exchange, a faint smile playing on his lips, and shook his head with a soft chuckle at your sibling rivalry.

Gwayne shook his head with a gentle sigh, his gaze shifting to Daeron. "Now, nephew, I understand why your mother insisted on sending you here. One day, you'll realize the value of your sister's presence. Treat her with the respect she deserves," he urged, his tone firm yet compassionate. You cast a sidelong glance at your brother, a small smile playing on your lips now that your uncle had come to your defense.

Daeron responded with an eye roll, his demeanor defiant. Gwayne cleared his throat, his expression turning more serious. "I'll have your cousin show you to your room, Daeron," he declared, nodding towards him. "As for you, Princess," Gwayne continued, extending his arm toward you. "I will personally escort you to your chambers." You took his arm promptly, grateful for his support and guidance in this unfamiliar place.

Gwayne escorted you up the stairs and down a hallway to your assigned room. As the door swung open, you couldn't shake the feeling of entering a stranger's room. Though the space was well-appointed and fair, it lacked the personal touch of home. Sensing your unease, Gwayne spoke up as the two of you entered.

"This will be your chambers. My quarters are just next door," he explained, his voice reassuring. "Consider me your protector, close at hand." His words were accompanied by a small, comforting smile.

In that moment, you realized Gwayne's striking presence: his piercing blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and eloquent speech. His demeanor offered a sense of security that eased your nerves, prompting you to return his smile warmly.

"You are to be your sworn protector then?" you questioned, eyebrows knitting together as you stood somewhat puzzled. Gwayne couldn't help but chuckle softly as he shook his head.

"No, sweet niece. There's no need for that here," he reassured you gently, "but I promise to watch over you." His words carried a comforting assurance.

You nodded in understanding, your hand still linked with his arm. "Did my mother explain why she sent me here?" you asked, recalling her vague answers and insistence that leaving the Red Keep was in your best interest. Gwayne sensed your unease and took your hands in his with tender care.

"Niece," he spoke softly, "Your mother didn't want to send you away, but you're soon to be married—or at least betrothed. She thought it would be easier for you not to be uprooted from your home like many maidens are." His explanation caused you to look away, a mixture of emotions stirring within you.

"I don't want to be betrothed to a stranger," you confessed to your uncle, your hands still held in his. "The thought of belonging to a man I don't know, who doesn't know me—it frightens me."

Gwayne's expression softened at your confession. He released one of your hands and gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. His blue eyes held a depth of understanding as he listened intently to your words.

"Your feelings are valid, my dear. Many women share your apprehensions—I know your mother did," Gwayne said soothingly, hoping to bring you comfort. "Besides, not every lady finds herself betrothed to a stranger. Try not to let fear cloud your judgment until you've had the chance to know your intended," he urged gently, sensing he had eased your nerves.

"I'll leave you to rest now," Gwayne added, seeing your nod of approval. With that, he quietly exited your chambers.

As night descended upon Old Town, you tossed and turned in your sleep, consumed by an unrelenting yearning. The unfamiliar blankets and sheets, devoid of your scent, offered no comfort. Frustrated, you reached for a plush pillow, sitting up and clutching it tightly between your thighs. Slowly, you would rock your hips back and forth, pushing down your core with some friction to alleviate this frustration that burned between your thighs. Your eyes fluttered closed, your night gown slipping from your shoulder as your hips desperately humped the pillow beneath you. You thought of your uncle, you knew you shouldn't, and yet- you could not help but to think of how kissed your hand, the blue of his eyes, how he smelled of sage.

On the other side of the door, Gwayne awoke to a plaintive sound that he initially mistook for a cry. Even through the stone walls, the soft echo of his niece's distress reached him. With concern driving him, Gwayne rose from his bed, the urgency of his duty as her uncle compelling him. He slipped into a pair of pants and quietly left his room.

It was his responsibility to care for and protect her in this unfamiliar place, in the absence of their family. Moving with cautious steps, Gwayne approached her door. Normally, he would have knocked, but in his haste and concern, he bypassed this customary courtesy. He gently pushed the door open, making as little noise as possible.

What Gwayne had come face to face with made him freeze, his entire body tensing up as he looked to the figure of you, the princess, feverously humping a pillow. Your shoulder exposed and hard nipples showing through the sheer of the night gown. Your eyes were still closed as your hips rocked against the pillow. Eyebrows pushed together as soft cries left your lips. Gwayne was more than aware that he should not be there, that he should not be witnessing this, and yet he could not tear his eyes away.

Then you said it, "Gwayne." His name left your lips like a melody and it took one hush of his name to make him impossibly hard. To the point in stung and bulged from his trousers. It was then your eyes fluttered open, and in a few blinks they widened realizing that your uncle stood in the doorway. In a panic your hands grasped the pillow and brought it up to cover yourself.

"Oh, Gods. Princess, I'm -I'm sorry -" Gwayne barely managed to gush an apology as he had went fleeing the room, closing the door behind him as he went rushing back to his room. In the midst of his embarrassment he had been sweating, his heart racing as he stayed in the confides of his room.

He was still hard. Gwayne tried not to think about you. He tried not to think about how you cried as you humped your pillow or how sweetly you spoke his name but he could not.

Gwayne would wrestle with himself for nearly an hour, but at the agony of his own groin he could not contain himself. Gwayne would still be standing as he pulled his pants down, freeing his length as he took it in one hand.

This was wrong, this was so wrong.

And still, he began to pump himself to the thought of you pleasing yourself with a pillow.

I shouldn't be doing this.

He wondered how it would feel to be between your soft thighs, to have you be humping him.

He was almost there.

To have you scream his name instead of whisper it.

Gwayne would soon spill his seed onto the ground as his hand feverishly pumped himself to the thought of you. Gwayne would attempt to find sleep that night but had been unable to do so.

When the next day dawned, you anticipated a conversation with your uncle about the events of the previous night. However, it soon became apparent that Gwayne was actively avoiding you. He didn't join you for breakfast or supper, and your cousin took it upon themselves to entertain you with a tour of Old Town, while another cousin kept you occupied with needlepoint throughout the day. Despite your efforts, the entire day passed without a glimpse of him.

Returning to your chambers in the evening, a growing discomfort settled within you. You couldn't shake the feeling that Gwayne's absence was deliberate. Did he feel embarrassed for having found you in distress? Was he ashamed of you? These thoughts churned in your mind as you lay on your bed, staring up at the canopy for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer, you threw off the blankets and stormed out of your chambers. Determined, you strode purposefully to his door, bypassing the courtesy of knocking—after all, he hadn't extended the same courtesy to you last night. You entered his chambers with your face flushed with agitation.

Inside, Gwayne was not asleep. He sat up in bed, bare-chested with the blankets draped over his hips, revealing that he wore nothing underneath either.

"Princess, what are you doing?" Gwayne asked abruptly, his gaze flickering to the sheerness of your nightgown, which left little to the imagination. It was evident that your attire was not quite appropriate for a princess, but after what Gwayne had witnessed the previous night, your choice of clothing was the least of your concerns.

"You walked in on me last night and now you avoid me all day?" you questioned boldly, lifting your chin as you approached his bedside. Gwayne's hands tightened on the blanket, his discomfort palpable as you drew nearer.

"You should go," he insisted, attempting to avert his eyes from you.

"Why?" You questioned sharply as he approached. "Are you ashamed of me now?"

Gwayne shook his head, you had not yet noticed, and he had hoped you hadn't as he looked away.

"It's not that." he insisted quietly.

Your eyes looked down the look of anger seeming to melt from your face as your eyes noticed the bulge beneath the blankets. He was hard, trying to hide it, but failing to do so.

"Please leave." He was begging with all restraint he had. Gwayne could not even look you in the eye as he kept the blankets around him.

You stood there for a moment unsure how to approach but desire beginning to burn between your legs as you looked to him.

"Do you desire me, uncle?" You questioned moving closer to him as a hand gently touched his thigh grabbing a handful of the sheets he was using to cover himself.

"It is wrong- I should not." He said, answering your question without actually answering your question. It was enough for you, his grip tightening to hold the sheets in place as you carefully slid one leg up on the bed, allowing it to rest on one side of him. Gwayne showed restraint, but only little.

"Who says?" you questioned, eyes staring into his as he finally had enough gull to look at you.

"The Gods." he declared. "Common law-" he tried to say with some reason, the one thread of restraint still holding on within him.

"Fuck the Gods," You declared as your hand gave a gentle pull at the sheets. "Fuck Common Law-" He continued to hold on as you pulled. "And fuck me." you said nearly pleading.

Gwayne held the blankets for a moment longer as his eyes looked to you. "You are a maiden, are you not?" He questioned unsure in this moment based on your behavior.

"I am." you declared honestly as you looked to him.

"I can not deflower my own niece." He said allowing a moment of pride to shield him.

"I do not want my first time to be with some lord that I am married off to as a bargaining chip." You insisted nearly pleading. "I desire you, uncle and you desire me." You declared, his grip on the sheet loosening.

Gwayne battled with himself for a moment, but only for a moment, for his strong hands would reach for your face, pulling you gently to meet his lips. Your body pulled onto him as your lips met his. Gwayne kissed your lips with the hunger of a starved man, his hands moved to your night gown and pulled it up, parting his lips to discard it from your body leaving you exposed to him.

He wasted little time in pushing you down onto the mattress, allowing himself to rest above you. In the moon light he took in your bare figure, soon peppering kisses between the valley of your breast and down your body to your cunt. His lips would kiss down to your bud before he grabbed onto your hips. Pulling your thighs to rest on his shoulders as his face pushed into your cunt in a way a pillow never could. It was by this that you were already squirming, back arching at his touch.

Gwayne would not hesitate to allow his tongue to lay flat against your flushed sensitive bud, your hips pushing down slightly as he tried to keep you in place with his grip. Gwayne would lick slowly, tasting your virgin cunt as if it was a delicacy, something he was determine to savor.

Soft moans left your lips as his tongue continued to work against your dripping cunt. Gwayne was carefully when he inserted a finger inside of you. He did not dare to put more than one for with just one finger he could feel how incredibly tight you were. a realization that caused his cock to ache.

Gwayne would slowly pump his finger in and out of you as you moaned loudly, your hands becoming entangled in his long locks, and your thighs pushing shut against him. Gwayne wanted to question you, to ask how you were so sensitive, why you tasted so sweet- but he could not bring himself to remove his tongue if the king himself demanded it.

There would be a hot coil inside of you that would form, growing tighter, as your wet cunt clenched around his finger, and within a moment the coil snapped. A warm orgasm flushing over you as your thighs squeezed his head without mercy, soft tears fell from your eyes as you came down from your high. You were panting as your thighs loosened, Gwayne would pull his finger from you before sticking it in his mouth to suck in clean of your sweet juices.

The two of you locked eyes as you stared at one another for a moment. His hard cock pushed against the inside of your thigh as he debated if he should go through with this.

"We shouldn't." Gwayne gave a small fight once more for the sake of his honor and your own.

"Who would know?" You offered a simple excuse, hoping he would not declare the gods again.

"Who would know . . ." he repeated before he nodded. "You're right. Who would know." Gwayne reasoned as he grabbed his cock as he had carefully begun to move it against the wet folds of your cunt.

"You could drink moon tea after." he suggested again as you nodded in response.

"You're sure?" he asked again his blue eyes looking to you with tender concern but also the last bit of restraint he had in him.

"I am." You said as you pushed yourself down on him slightly causing him to groan.

Gwayne could wait no longer and therefore he lined himself up at your entrance and gently he begun to penetrate you, sliding into your wet cunt slowly.

Your back arched at the feeling of him filling you, he stilled, with only part of himself in you.

"More." You whined out in a demand as you waited for him to fill you completely.

"Patient, princess. Please- I do not wish to be spent so soon." Gwayne insisted, he had slowly begun to push into you. Your legs would soon tighten around his waist, forcing him to put the rest of himself in. A moan came from the both of you as he would soon begin to move slowly.

"Gods, you're so tight." He groaned as he slowly thrusted in and out of you at a slow rate, doing his best not to spill himself inside of you this early.

Gwayne would allow his thumb to return to your swollen bulb, rubbing it softly as he continued to fuck you at a slow and passionate rate. Despite the slow thrust he pushed deep into your warm velvet walls each time, enjoying the feeling of you squeezing his entire length.

Gwayne would continue at this slow rate as you cried out, soon lewd sounds of your wetness would fill the room mixed with your moans.

"I want to be on top." You pleaded, his hips stilled with hesitation. "Please." you begged.

Gwayne hesitated, but even he could not resist. He pulled out of you slowly before allowing his body to fall onto the bed. You wasted no time climbing on top of him and taking his length in your hand. Carefully you lowered your hips onto him.

"Fuck." Gwayne would groan at the sight of you above him. The vision of a Targaryen princess nude above him, as your hips begun to feverishly bounce on his cock. It took everything in him to not spill himself in you at this very moment.

"Princess, please." He pleaded his hands grabbing on your waist to try and slow you down but it was no use, you used him. Moving your hips quickly as you looked to him.

"Hold on, uncle. I'm almost there." You would insisted in a moan as you continued, the feeling of him throbbing inside of you as you fucked yourself on him was enough to let out a cry of pleasure.

"Please get off . . . "He begged, "I shouldn't . . . not inside of you." He insisted more as he tried to steady your hips, though as you moved he relented.

Gwayne could not hold himself back any longer, his fingers dug into your flesh as he came deep inside you. You continued as he filled you with his warm seed. Allowing yourself to fuck every last drop inside of you, peeking your own orgasm that caused Gwayne to grit his teeth. You would roll your hips over him, riding out your high before falling helplessly on the bed next to him. His seed spilling onto your plush thighs.

Gwayne panted as he had looked over to you with soft affection. "I'll have the maester make you moon tea in the morning." he insisted as you looked over to him with a small smile.

"Perhaps if you seed me with your child mother would be forced to marry me to you." You offered looking to him next to you in the bed.

"Or she would have my head." he offered back.

When morning came you were nearly limping as you joined Daeron at the breakfast table, he seemed somewhat restless as he picked at the eggs on his plate.

"There you are." He declared looking to you with dark shadows surrounding his eyes.

"You look like shit." You declared to him with no one else around, he looked to you with somewhat of a resenting look.

"Yeah, well if you're going to fuck our uncle again could you at least keep it down." Daeron declared.

You froze at his comment, you were going to muster up some kind of denial but Daeron spoke again.

"My chambers are on the other side of Uncle Gwaynes." He informed you.

[cutehoons02]

Mission: Don’t fall in love with the campus superstar

University series: Heeseung Jungwon Jake

*pairing: pervy campus superstar Jay x barista Girl

*trope: grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: What would happen when the captain of the university baseball team as well as the campus superstar comes to work in the university cafeteria with you? Jay is the superstar of the campus, he has the pressure to be the captain of the Baseball team but at the same time he tries to produce music and study instead you are the classic girl who does not want to have distractions and who spends the days studying and working; but Jay is a storm of emotions and even the most tender girl can not not give in to his flattery.

*tags: fluffy,humor,Jay loves to tease the protagonist, the protagonist does not bear much Jay, kisses, Jay is a green fleg, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl), masturbation, (f.m receive it),fingering,pet names (sunshine,good girl) (rockstar), jealosy,+16

(English is not my native language)

9.9k (🎸)

The university cafeteria was full as always at eight in the morning. The smell of freshly ground coffee mixed with the chatter of students, newly baked brioche, and people’s chatter gave a sparkling energy that Y/N found strangely reassuring in that place. She loved working there despite the intense shifts. There were always interesting people to watch and his boss was incredibly patient with his experiments of milk art and various coffees customized for the different seasons.

That morning, however, her quiet rhythm was abruptly interrupted.

Jay Park entered the cafeteria as if he were the protagonist of a movie. Dark sunglasses - despite being indoors - and a leather jacket laid carelessly on the shoulder. A sports bag was hanging from his right hand, while the left one was slipped distractedly into his jeans pocket. His walk was slow, and calculated, as if he were aware of the glances that turned on his way.

<< That’s Jay Park, right? >> whispered a group of girls near the bar, holding their breath as he passed.

Y/N recognized him. How could she not? It was everywhere: on social media platforms, in the posters of university sports teams, and even in his roommate’s TikTok feed, who did nothing but watch his videos wherewith his collection of electric guitars every day posted some cover and with its charm made millions of views.

"Great," you thought, rolling your eyes.

Jay approached the counter and took off his sunglasses with a theatrical gesture, showing his deep eyes and an expression that seemed to say: I’m here to save the day.

«Hi, I’m looking for the person in charge,» he said, his voice low and full of confidence as he stared at you from head to toe. You looked at him, trying to keep a neutral expression. "It’s on the back. But if you’re here for free coffee, I don’t think you should try."

Jay bowed his head, a smile that seemed half amused and half irritated. «I’m not here for free coffee, sunshine.»

"Oh, sorry, the rockstar is talking to us, common mortals?" You said, crossing your arms.

The nickname made him stop for a second, before his smile came back, more arrogant than before. «Interesting. You always have this personality... or are you just angry because your day started before me or maybe you woke up on the wrong side of the bed?»

"On the contrary," you said, with a fake smile. "I love getting started early. It gives me more time to put up with guys like you."

Jay laughed softly, shaking his head. «This job will be fun.»

Just then, your boss came out of the back, wiping his hands on the apron. 'Jay! Perfect, you’re here. Here’s your uniform.'

«Uniform? Uhm...sure I must put that subspecies of robe over my sweaters or sweaters» he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Tried to hold a laugh when you saw his expression change, but his security cracked for the first time. The boss handed him a cream-colored apron from the coffee shop with the logo in the center.

' Welcome aboard,' said the chief, then he turned to you. 'Y/n, why don’t you show him how it works here? Today he will pair up with you. You’re always the best at making new people feel comfortable, take it under your wing'

You felt the smile slide from your face. "Wait, with me?"

Jay turned to you with a smile that was both a grin and a challenge. «It seems we are partners, sunshine!»

Jay was an impossible presence to ignore. From day one, you were committed to showing him everything there was to know about the café:

How to use the coffee machine, the correct way of blending milk, where the ingredients for the cakes were, and even how to handle the most complex orders.

But, of course, Jay had decided to make your task much more difficult.

«So I have to press this button to make coffee?» he asked, the tone full of innocent curiosity.

"Exactly," you replied, with infinite patience. "Just press that button and the machine will do it all by itself."

Jay looked at you and tilted his head slightly. «It seems easy. Are you sure even a rock star like me can do it?»

"Well, if you can play a guitar solo without missing a note, I think you can handle a cappuccino," you said, crossing your arms.

Jay smiled, the kind of smile that he knew was irresistible. «Interesting. So you’ve been watching my videos?»

"I didn’t say that," you replied quickly, blushing barely. You watched all his videos as a little "stalker" to understand why the girls were obsessed with him while he was playing those guitars that would cost more than your parents' various salaries of their whole life. You didn’t understand much about electric guitars but the covers were nice and some famous artists had even put back his videos, but surely the girls did not look much at how the music played but who played it, Every time Jay recorded a video, he was beautiful, sometimes he looked like a nerd with glasses, other times with a Ralph Lauren shirt that made his muscles stand out, Other times he played with sweatshirts of the baseball team and others real rockstar with t-shirts of rock artists and his inevitable leather jacket.

«But you didn’t deny it, have you seen if I covered your favorite song?» he muttered, loud enough to be heard.

You puffed, turning to make an order, "I can not watch the hundreds of videos that place to see if you played my favorite song, I have no time to waste but surely you will not play it" felt that Jay was laughing behind you and It was unbearable.

Days passed and, at each turn, the cafeteria seemed to become a tourist attraction for all the students on campus. Girls Y/n had never seen before suddenly showed up with bright smiles, flawless clothes, and demands that were far too complicated.

' A double latte macchiato with almond milk, vanilla syrup, and a dash of cocoa, please said a girl with a mellow voice, leaning against the counter to attract Jay’s attention.

«Immediately» he replied, with a smile that would melt even the most cynical heart.

But when he turned to make the drink, you noticed that he had no idea how to start. As always.

"Jay, the almond milk is there," you said, indicating it with a nod.

He turned to you, leaning against the counter with a mocking air. «Oh, so help me now? I thought you were too busy hating me.»

"I don’t hate you," I said dryly. "I don’t have time for that. You’re just... annoying."

«Yet you are always ready to correct me» he replied, with that unbearable smile that made you want to throw the first container of milk at him.

The more days passed, the more you realized that Jay was good at everything - except for his real job. He made coffee now and then but spent most of his time flirting with clients, having light conversations, and... attracting an absurd amount of attention.

One day, while you were cleaning one of the tables, you noticed another familiar scene. Jay was at the bar, with a girl laughing too loud at a joke he probably hadn’t even finished.

When the client finally left, you approached her, visibly irritated. "You are aware that technically you should be working, right?"

«But I’m working» he replied, leaning on the bar with that relaxed air while preparing a cappuccino. «People are happy. The cafeteria is full. I would say I’m doing a great job.»

"Jay, don’t take me for a fool. Someone else is always preparing their orders while you’re doing the showman with any girl who opens that fucking door of this coffee shop."

Jay chuckled, his hand in his hair. «Are you jealous?»

"Why would I be jealous of you? Not."

«No, not me,» he said with a smile that irritated her beyond measure. «Smiles that I reserve for everyone but not for you, sunshine.»

You were blocked for a moment, you could not stand it anymore, why the absurd reason that fate had made you know such an arrogant and self-satisfied guy?

"Maybe if you smiled less, you’d have time to do something useful and commit to something that isn’t frivolous."

Jay laughed, a deep and relaxed laugh that seemed to make fun of you but at the same time made you feel comfortable. «I promise you that the next smile is only for you, sunshine.»

You stared at him, but the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about those words for the rest of your shift.

The cafeteria was more chaotic than ever, thanks to the Jay Park effect. But despite his annoying behavior, you couldn’t help but notice how good he was at making everyone else feel comfortable except you. It was like he was doing it on purpose like he was having fun challenging you every turn.

It was a morning like many others, and you tried to get to the classroom in time so as not to be late. Psychology of interpersonal relationships was one of your favorite subjects, but the professor had the annoying habit of closing the door as soon as the clock ticked and not letting anyone in.

When you finally sat down, putting your laptop and notebooks in place, you felt a movement behind you. You didn’t pay too much attention until a familiar voice that you had learned to recognize and couldn’t stand did not break your moment of concentration.

«Sunshine, what a coincidence to find you here.»

You looked up at the sky and sighed deeply, immediately recognizing the tone. You just sunflower, just to confirm what you were already afraid of: Jay Park had sat right behind you, with that arrogant smile that you knew all too well.

"What are you doing here? , don’t tell me you missed me already and stalked my schedule" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Jay laughed and gave you a slight pinch on the cheek while smiling at you

«Pff, calm I have not stalkerized your schedules and I did not miss at all this is the course of psychology of interpersonal relationships» he replied, leaning on the back of the chair as if he were the master of the world. «Interesting course to include in my CV»

You stared at him incredulously. "You? Psychology? You don’t seem like the type."

«Why not?» he replied, crossing his arms with a grin. «Relationships are my field of expertise.»

"Ah, sure," you replied, sarcastically "Flirting with all the girls on campus counts as a sociological experiment, I’d be curious to know if at least one of these girls has you friend-zoned to stand down once?"

Jay chuckled, amused by your tone and this time he came perilously close to your face which was red with anger.

«I didn’t know you were so attentive to my... experiments and relax all my experiments have been successful!» and he winked at you.

You quickly turned around, ignoring him as the teacher started the lesson. But all the while, you could feel Jay’s gaze on you. And when, at the end of the lesson you got up to collect your things he was already next to you.

"What do you want now?" button, putting the notebook in the bag.

«I thought I’d keep you company until the cafeteria» he replied in an innocent tone, although the smirk on his face told another story.

"No need, thank you," you replied trying to get rid of him.

Jay, however, did not let himself be discouraged. «Come on, you can’t always be so serious. Living a little won’t hurt you, you know? Every time I see you, you’re always so tense and serious, it seems like you hate everyone!»

"What should I do? Live my life like you, you mean?" you said, stopping to watch. "Spending your days doing nothing useful, wasting time and money because you don’t need to earn it?"

Jay raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

"Not everyone has rich parents who can buy him everything. I cannot afford to waste time. I work here to pay for my studies, and it’s not easy, so stop acting like it’s all a game."

Jay’s smile flinched for a moment. «I’m not saying that he doesn’t work hard. I’m just saying that...»

"What?" you interrupted him in a sharp voice. "That I must relax? Do you know the difference between me and you, Jay? I don’t have the luxury of stopping. I have to do everything myself."

For a moment, silence fell between you. Jay looked at you with a different, almost serious expression. He did not answer immediately, and you took advantage of the moment to leave, leaving him there, motionless in the corridor.

That afternoon, the work shift started as usual. You were already in the cafeteria setting up the counter and preparing the first meals. But when Jay came in, something seemed different. He didn’t make his usual theatrical entrance, nor the usual tantalizing comment.

Instead, he approached you for the first time and looked into your eyes without the usual smile of defiance.

«Y/n» began, in a low and sincere tone.

"What is it?"

«I didn’t mean to offend you before,» he said, scratching his neck and seeing for the first time a glimmer of sincerity and perhaps embarrassment from Jay?

«You’re right, I don’t know what it means to work so hard to get something. I got everything served on a silver platter and... well, maybe I act like it’s normal. But it’s not.»

You watched him, unsure of how to respond. "It’s not a contest, Jay. I don’t want sympathy or excuses. I just want to do my job without someone making me feel like I’m wrong or being arrogant with me."

He nodded slowly. «Understood. So... maybe today I’m trying to work. Show me what I have to do.»

"Really?" you asked, skeptical.

«Seriously» he replied. And this time he gave you a smile that seemed sincere.

The days at the coffee shop seemed to flow more smoothly after that candid conversation between you and Jay. It was as if a certain balance had been reached: he was more engaged in work and less in chatting or flirting with the girls, and you found the schedule that you had together of shifts even a little pleasant. Nevertheless, your interactions were not lacking in tension, with sharp lines and looks that said more than words.

One afternoon, during a break between shifts, Jay approached you as he was setting up some empty cups on the counter with a 32-tooth smile.

«Hey, did you know that there will be a baseball game tonight for the opening of the new academic semester?»

"So what?" you asked, and continued to tidy up the register.

«And so you should come» he replied, as if it were obvious.

You lie down quietly, shaking your head. "I don’t have time for this."

Jay tilted his head, pretending to be hurt. «Sunshine, you’re not saying you don’t want to support your... favorite coworker?»

"Favorite coworker," you repeated sarcastically, staring at him. "This is new."

«There will be the girlfriends of my friends and also the girlfriend of Jungwon who is your roommate, I promise you that you’ll have fun then there will not be 2 hours of leisure that would do you good» he looked at you with that smile that made everyone crazy but you wanted to say no.

"Thank you," you replied sarcastically. "But I don’t know if that’s the case."

«Oh, please, you have to come» insisted Jay, the slightly more serious tone. «It’s not just a match for me. It’s important. I’m trying to get noticed by some professional teams and you know better than me that my dream is to become a Baseball player and beat all the records»

That phrase made you stop for a moment. Despite everything, Jay had a dream. And you knew how important it was to pursue something that you believed in.

You finally let yourself be convinced - or rather Jungwon’s girlfriend forced you. Your best friend was excited to see Jungwon cheer for Jay and, of course, she didn’t leave you any choice.

The university stadium was full of screaming students, and the energy in the air was contagious. T/L immediately settled in the stands next to Jungwon, while you stayed slightly behind, trying not to look too out of place.

When the game started, Jay was a force of nature. Every time he hit the ball or made a strategic decision on the field, the audience burst into applause and screams. He seemed ready for the moment, with his natural talent and confidence radiating from every move.

'It’s amazing, isn’t it?' said Jungwon, looking at you with a smile.

' Admit it, you would never have thought he was so good.'

"Not bad," you admitted, though you avoided adding how impressed you were.

The game ended in a landslide victory for Jay’s team, and the applause was deafening. But as soon as he left the camp, Jay was surrounded by a group of girls, all eager to get his attention.

You watched the scene with a strange feeling in your stomach. There was something about the way he smiled at all of them, the way he seemed perfect, that bothered you. Why did it have to be like this? Why did he have to be good at everything and have the world at his feet?

"Perfect and unbearable," you murmured, trying to ignore the growing annoyance.

Later that night, as the crowd started to disperse, you found yourself in the parking lot waiting for T/L who was waving at Jungwon. You were exhausted, ready to come home and forget all that day.

But you didn’t notice Jay reaching for you, with a sports bag resting on his shoulder and his hair still slightly wet from the post-game shower.

«Hey,» he said, attracting your attention.

You looked at him, sighing. "Congratulations on the game. You did well."

«Just good?» he asked, tilting his head as he had that annoying grin you didn’t tolerate

"Okay, great," you said. "But you know already, I don’t know much about baseball but I saw that everyone was impressed by you, so don’t get your head in the game."

Jay laughed slowly, getting closer. «I wanted to thank you for coming.»

"T/L forced me," you said, crossing my arms.

«Sure» he said, with an enticing smile. «But you came anyway. Your support counts for me»

You roll your eyes. "If you’re done with your compliments, can I go? I’m tired and it’s so cold out here, I should have stayed in my room warm with Netlifx and a hot chocolate."

But when you tried to pass by him, Jay moved to block your way. It was not threatening, but his smile disappeared, replaced by a face she could not decipher.

«Why are you always so hard on me?» he asked, his voice getting lower and lower as she approached your body.

"Because you are... you," you replied trying to keep control. "You’re annoying, arrogant, and... and you seem to have it all. It’s frustrating."

Jay looked at you for a long moment, then did something unexpected. He came even closer, narrowing the space between you to almost touch your face.

«Words, sunshine» he muttered in a provocative tone but with an absent smile.

Before you could answer, Jay stooped down and kissed you.

You stood still, your heart beating fast, unable to move or think. It was a sweet and intense kiss at the same time as if Jay was trying to tell you something that words could not explain.

Jay touched your hips with his big arms and put you even closer to him to make you feel the warmth he felt only by kissing you, You put your hands in his chest covered with a jacket and he immediately let his tongue into your mouth and you muttered something undecipherable to the contact of your two mouths and the dance that they were doing their tongue.

When he finally broke off, he looked into your eyes with a serious but also slightly amused expression. «You were never just a game to me, Y/n.»

And before you could answer, he walked away, leaving you, confused and with a heart in turmoil.

You’ve been feeling like a disaster for days. The fever had forced you to bed and, unwillingly, you had to take a week off from work. A week in which Jay was left alone to run the cafeteria. Every day you called him, making sure everything was in order, that he knew how to do the most complex orders, and that he wasn’t spending his shift flirting with customers. Jay always replied in his usual playful tone, teasing her mercilessly.

«Don’t worry, sunshine» he said to you. «The cafeteria won’t burn, and yes, I remember how to put milk on. Although I can’t guarantee that it will be as perfect as when you do.»

And every call ended with him mentioning that kiss, making you blush even through the phone.

«Get well soon» he had said last time. «I might think of coming to check in person that you are resting»

"Don’t even try," you answered, in a tone that was more of a plea than a threat.

That night, you were wrapped in a blanket, watching an old movie while your head was still pulsing. He was almost asleep when you heard the bell ring.

"T/L? You open!" you shouted to your roommate, hoping she would hear you.

A few seconds later, you heard a sound of footsteps and then the incredulous voice of T/L. 'Oh my God.'

"What?" you asked with your eyes wrinkled and trying to get off the couch.

As you stepped out into the hall, the scene in front of you left you speechless: Jay Park, with a mischievous smile, stood there with a paper bag full of food containers and medicine.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, shocked.

«I thought someone should bring you food» Jay replied with a natural voice, entering as if it were his home. «And then I wanted to make sure you were alive. You were starting to sound like a ghost on the phone.»

T/L turned to you, wide-eyed and smiling.

T/L turned to you, wide-eyed and smiling. ' Jay, you’re amazing,' said your roommate, barely holding back a laugh. ' Oh, by the way, I should go to Jungwon. I don’t want to disturb... what’s going on here.'

"T/L", blushing deeply.

' Have fun!' T/L nodded to Jay and quickly left the door, leaving them alone.

You’re turning to Jay, still incredulous. "You shouldn’t have come here. I’m fine."

«You didn’t seem so well the last time you called me,» he said, placing the containers on the small table in the living room. «And then, it’s funny to see you so vulnerable.»

"I am not vulnerable," you replied with crossed arms, even though your voice betrayed the discomfort.

Jay smiled and started to arrange the food containers. I brought you homemade ramen, kimchi, and a tiramisu for dessert. I hope you like it...»

"You... can cook?" you asked, incredulous.

«I told you, sunshine. I can do many things» he replied, giving you a look that made you want to bury yourself.

As you ate together, the tension between you seemed to subside. Jay would tell you funny stories about working in the coffee shop, how he finally learned to make a decent cappuccino, and how he enjoyed watching customers ask for him.

«Of course, it’s not the same without you» he added, in a softer tone.

You blush again, trying to focus on his ramen. "Stop it."

«Stop doing what, sunshine?» he asked with a smirk.

"To say things that make you blush."

Jay came a little closer, putting his elbow on the table. «It’s too much fun to see you trying to hide behind that good girl mask and for a couple of months now it’s been my favorite game to make you blush.»

You looked up at him, trying to ignore him.

You looked up, trying to ignore him. But when Jay’s eyes got more intense, you felt his heart beat faster.

"Jay," you started, trying to keep control.

«Shh» he interrupted you. «Don’t say anything.»

And before you could protest, he leaned towards you, slowly approaching as if waiting for you to stop him. But you stood still, unable to turn your eyes from his eyes.

When your lips met for the second time, it was as if everything else disappeared. The world seemed to be reduced to that moment, to that kiss.

When you left, Jay looked at you with a smile as you tried to recover.

"What are you doing?" you asked, still incredulous.

«I told you so» he replied, in a light tone. «I am good at many things.»

You snorted, but couldn’t hold back a smile. The kiss had just ended. He did not move away immediately; instead, he put his hand on your back and began to curl it slowly, noticing that you were shivering.

«What’s the matter, sunshine» he asked, with a tone that mixed concern and curiosity. «Is it me who makes you shiver or is it still the fever?»

You shook your head, embarrassed, trying not to cross her eyes. "Don’t say nonsense."

Jay tilted his head slightly, amused. «Nonsense? Should I worry or feel flattered? I didn’t think you could get the thrills of pleasure just with my hands I can’t imagine when I will use...»

You looked at him very badly and did not answer, preferring to concentrate on anything other than him. But Jay, as always, was not going to let it go. «Okay, enough. You need to rest. And since you don’t trust me, I’ll take care of everything.»

Before you could protest, Jay picked you up like it was the most natural thing in the world.

«Jay! What are you doing?!" you cried, your face turning red even more than the fever.

«I bring a good girl to bed» he replied, smiling with his air of defiance.

You were slightly moved, but Jay held you tight as he carried you to your room. «If you move too much, you might drop me» he warned. «And we don’t want you to end up worse than that, do we?»

When he laid you gently on the bed, you looked at him with a combination of embarrassment and disbelief. "You shouldn’t have."

Jay shrugged. «Yes, we do. Now let’s see how badly you’re feeling.»

He took a thermometer from his bedside table and handed it to him. «Take your fever. Don’t argue, be good.»

You snorted but did as you were told. When the thermometer beeped, Jay took it to check.

«Almost 38. You need to rest» he said, in a tone that for once seemed genuinely concerned. He took a tablet from the bag and a glass of water from the nightstand. «Take this one. And don’t argue.»

You obeyed again, but the redness on your face was not just from the fever. Jay took off his sweatshirt and put it on.

«So you won’t be cold,» he said, placing it on your shoulders.

You looked at him surprised. "I don’t need your sweatshirt."

«Don’t be stubborn, sunshine. You know you’re a mess right now.»

You snorted again, but I tucked you into the sweatshirt, which still had its scent. Jay smiled triumphantly and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Why are you still here?" you asked, crossing my arms.

«Because I know you well enough to know that you will not take care of yourself properly», he replied.

"Jay, get out," you said, trying to keep a steady tone, even though it was hard with your weak body and that warm sweatshirt on.

«No» he answered, lying beside you with nonchalance. «I must make sure that you rest.»

"You don’t need to be here," you replied, trying to drive him away with a feeble attempt.

Jay, of course, did not move. He came a little closer, hugging you slightly.

"What are you doing now?" I asked, my voice full of disbelief.

«Keep you warm. It’s a green flag gesture, right? I read somewhere that you girls are crazy about these things» he replied, with his usual bold smile.

"You’re unbearable," you murmured, turning slightly toward him.

Jay laughed softly. «Maybe. But admit it, sunshine, you don’t mind so much.»

I didn’t answer immediately. The fever, the warmth of his presence, the scent of his sweatshirt... all contributed to your confusion.

"If you keep talking, I swear I’ll get up and throw you out," you finally murmured, trying to sound serious.

Jay smiled, stroking your hair softly. «I’ll let you talk then. With the fever, you are much more nice and tender.»

You looked at him, your lips curled in a half smile. "I shouldn’t let you stay here."

«Yet here I am» he replied, with a clever light in his eyes.

The morning light was filtering through the curtains, caressing your face. You stretched slowly, feeling much better than the night before, but your peace was interrupted when you realized that you were not alone.

There was a warm body next to you. Jay.

He was still there, hugging you as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his face relaxed in sleep and an arm holding you tight. He seemed incredibly serene, so different from Jay who teased you every day. He seemed... almost innocent.

You started laughing quietly, trying not to wake him. It was surreal to be in that situation, yet you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of that moment.

With a trembling hand, you found yourself moving without thinking too much. You began to gently touch his face, tracing the lines of his perfectly sculpted jaw, following the contour of his meaty lips.

Finally, your eyes fell on the small birthmark on Jay’s neck, a unique spot in the shape of a heart or butterfly, difficult to define, but incredibly charming.

As your finger lingered there, Jay slowly opened his eyes but said nothing. He had been awake for a while, but he wanted to enjoy that moment, your light touch that made his heart beat faster than normal.

When you realized he was awake, you suddenly blocked your face, turning a bright red. "Oh my God, I woke you up!"

Jay smiled, his voice still roaring from sleep. «I was already watching you.»

You looked at him with a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief. "Why didn’t you say anything?"

Jay leaned slightly, giving you a light kiss on the forehead. «Because I liked too much to feel you touching me. You can continue if you want. Maybe on my chest this time.»

You were left speechless, the shock mixed with a sudden urge to laugh. "You’re incredible. How can you be so cheeky even when you wake up?"

Jay shrugs his shoulders, pulling you back toward him. «It’s one of my talents.»

"You’re unbearable," you murmured, trying to push him away, but without too much conviction.

«Yet, you are here» he replied, with a satisfied smirk.

You sighed but did not move from his embrace. Even if you would never admit it out loud, being in his arms was not so bad. It was... pleasant.

Jay looked at you for a moment, his dark eyes shone with something deeper. «I didn’t know you liked me so much, sunshine.»

You looked up, trying to ignore your fast heartbeat. "Don’t get too excited, Park."

Jay was lying next to you, with a smirk printed on his face, as if he were in his natural element. You were still wrapped in the warmth of the bed and her sweatshirt, you looked more relaxed than the previous evening, but there was something in the atmosphere that had changed.

Jay, with his innate confidence, began to move his hand down your back, gently passing under the sweatshirt you were wearing. His fingers were warm and light, and the touch was more affectionate than intrusive, but it was enough to make you stiff for a moment.

"Jay," you mumbled

«I’m just making sure you’re comfortable, sunshine» he replied, with an innocent tone that contrasted with the cunning smile he threw at you.

You looked torn, but then, with a deep breath, you relaxed, leaning your head on Jay’s neck. Its familiar and reassuring scent surrounded you, making you feel more peaceful.

Jay kept drawing little circles on your back, his hand moving slowly, exploring but never going beyond a respectful limit. It was as if he wanted to see how far you would let him go.

But you decided it was time to turn the tables.

With a slight smile on your lips, you barely moved and began to place little kisses on Jay’s neck. It was a timid gesture at first, but when she noticed that he stiffened in surprise, your courage increased.

«What are you doing?» asked Jay, his voice suddenly lower and more stony.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you focused on the small butterfly or heart-shaped spot that you noticed the night before. With a light touch of your lips, you began to kiss, driven by an impulse that you could not control, you sucked her slightly.

Jay moans softly, an almost imperceptible sound, but enough to make you smile against his skin. It was as if, for the first time, I had found a weak spot in that self-confident boy.

«Y/N...» he muttered, but his voice had lost its usual impudence and there was something more sincere. There was a vulnerability, as if for once he wasn’t in charge of the game.

You pulled yourself slightly back, watching him with a smirk that was both sweet and provocative.

"What’s the matter, Jay? Don’t you like it when someone takes over or are you used to having everything right away?"

He looked at you, with dark eyes that shone a dangerous light and at the same time amused. «Oh, I like it. But don’t think I’ll let you beat me so easily.»

You slowly grovel, but before you can answer, Jay comes closer, his lips touching your forehead. His hand on the back became firm, holding you close to him.

«You’re playing with fire, sunshine» whispered to your ear, her voice low and sweet, but with a hint of challenge.

"And you think you’re the only one who can play?" You answered the smile that widened as you retreated against his chest again, satisfied to have turned, even for a moment, your usual balance.

Jay was silent for a few moments, a smile on his face. «You know what? I like this version of you. The one who knows how to stand up to me.»

"Someone must do it," you said, closing your eyes.

«And that someone is you, sunshine» When you heard that phrase from Jay you put yourself back near his legs, now completely on his knees as he sat leaning against the bed’s keyboard, and his arms were wrapped all around you and his face buried in your neck.

You started touching his chest under the over shirt he used to sleep in as pajamas and felt how sculpted his muscles were for the eternal hours of training on the other hand Jay was touching your neck all the time, His hands on your breasts as he pinched your nipples through his shirt, moaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands were perfect for his big hands and he couldn’t wait to stick you.

From time to time, his hands were going down your pussy, touching the spot where you needed attention most before he came up on your chest, and this time he was getting his hands in your body and getting rid of that pajama shirt.

When he saw you without a shirt had a slightly open mouth and immediately began to torture the left breast «This body is made to be mine, look until yesterday you were embarrassed and wanted to kick me instead you are here now to have your breasts licked and you touch your pussy» moaning quietly and after little Jay feel your pussy still covered in pants "Jay, can.... Can I make you feel good this time?" he looked at you with a smile hanging on and the excitement that grew more and more.

«Are you sure, sunshine? You don’t have to» you said yes with your head and you were slightly embarrassed you didn’t know where you had found that courage but he had been so good to you yesterday and you didn’t know how to thank him.

Jay helped you to take off his pants and boxer shorts, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your pillows, he moans about your name, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after wishing for you for so long.

Jay was so big, thick, and muscular, that you’d get your mouth watering just to see him. He was so toned but so thick, and his cock fitted perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had already made your eyes swirl, you didn’t know if you had sex with him that morning or another day but you knew that sooner or later you would want it only for yourself and no other girl.

You spat lightly into Jay’s cock and licked and sucked his already slightly pink tip, moaning at him as his eyes rolled back. He stood up slightly to see you with his cock in your mouth while you were fucking him, he gently took your hair and made a half tail and you licked him even more wildly.

«You are so good with your mouth, every time you answered me I would have kissed you or put my dick in you, sunshine... Fuck, you’re so pretty full of my dick» panted Jay, moaning against his cock, already thirsty for him while he pulled your hair harder to make you get even more in his dick.

«D-where do I come from? Fuck, I’m coming, it’s so nice, baby. Take it so well for me, shit...»

You were too busy choking on your dick to answer right away, so you had to take a minute to get away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while holding the other.

«Do you want me to fill your mouth with my cum and liquid?» You wanted to answer him: please fill my mouth with your cum but you couldn’t talk and I shook my head while you pumped his cock even more into your mouth.

When Jay squirted and came into your mouth you tried to swallow every shred of his essence, moaning at his cock afterward as you licked every solitary drop coming out of your mouth.

In the end, you were completely exhausted and Jay was extremely shocked that the girl he had met a few months before yelling at him or giving him orders was now kneeling and exhausted for giving him the best blow job of his life.

You returned to work after having fully recovered, your spirit was back as usual: serious, focused on your goal.

The cafe seemed to be getting more crowded since Jay started working there, and to your surprise, it seemed to have become a familiar presence for everyone. Not only the employees but also the customers treated him as if he had always been part of the team as if Jay was meant to be there, comfortable among the smiles and daily chatter.

You were watching him, a little surprised by his ability to adapt and integrate so quickly but also it occurred to you what happened the other morning; would he make fun of you? Would treat you like a slut or even worse, not care? But for the little you knew Jay would never treat you like that, right?

Jay didn’t seem like the ordinary working type at all, yet he moved with an ease that left him almost speechless. He was always smiling, attentive to people, and perfect in his role. But there was something that bothered you while you were watching him: he seemed to put more effort into acting as a "good guy" than being a "social guy". It almost seemed like he was trying to impress you as if he wanted to show you something.

One afternoon, while you were serving at a table, a guy came in. He was the opposite of Jay in every possible way. Tall, with blonde hair and the look of a studious boy, but he had a disarming smile that had already made more than one client’s head spin. When he approached the bar, you noticed it immediately.

' Hello,' said the boy, with a sure smile, 'I’m Matthew. I saw you earlier in Psychology class and when I asked about you around everyone told me that I had to come to the university cafeteria to try one of your cappuccinos'.

You were a little embarrassed and you smiled back. You had never heard anyone make such a statement so directly. "Thank you... Which one do you prefer?"

The boy, coughing, handed you a note. ' Here’s my number, if you ever want to study with me. I don't know how to make a coffee outside of work, I would like to get to know you better.'

Jay, who was passing by them, couldn’t help but notice the interaction and hear the worst excuse invented in this world to ask a girl out. His look, at first indifferent, became more attentive when Matthew touched the arm of Y/N with a certain ease. There was something unusual in the air, an energy that he could not ignore. The tension between them was palpable, and Jay could not help but react.

He approached the bar with his quiet but determined step, and before you could say anything, he bent over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder with naturalness. «Hey, sunshine, all right?» he said, casting a sharp look at the boy.

Matthew raised an eyebrow, surprised by the gesture. ' Sorry, but... what’s going on? You’re... together? Nobody told me that you were engaged,' he asked, his voice now more cautious.

You were stiff, not knowing how to react. You wanted to make a joke, to take the tension away, but the situation was out of control.

Jay, noticing your discomfort, decided to take you by the arm, with a strong gesture but without violence. He lifted you slightly, bringing your face closer to yours as if to protect your space. «Yes, we’ve been together for a while,» he said with an enigmatic smile, looking at Matthew with an intensity that left little room for misunderstandings.

Matthew seemed puzzled but, with a last smile, he walked away, leaving the bar with a slight hint of frustration. Jay stood there, holding you for a moment longer than necessary.

You looked at him with bright eyes, mixing disbelief and a subtle anger. "What do you think you’re doing? You should not have gotten in the way," You said, trying to shake off his embrace.

Jay looked into your eyes, his smile concealing a slight hint of possessiveness. «I don’t like to share,» he said, his voice low and still. «And you are mine, Y/N. I don’t want others to think that I can have a chance.»

You stared at him for a moment, a mixture of emotions running through your face. But before you could answer, Jay pulled you back to him, bringing his lips closer to his in a kiss that, this time, left no room for doubt. It was not a kiss of passion, but one that seemed to define a boundary, a line that both now had crossed.

When they broke away, Y/N looked at him intently, the breath that was escaping her the fastest. "Don’t ever allow yourself to do that again," you said, but your tone was so fragile as if you were not so sure you wanted to keep that distance.

Jay smiled as if he understood something more than you. «Don’t worry. There’s no need to talk about it. I know how you feel. I want only want you.»

But Y/N, even as she struggled with the emotions that were starting to mount inside her, detached herself from him, looking at him with an indecipherable expression. " I’m not a toy, Jay. And I don’t want to be treated like that."

Jay watched you for a moment, but he didn’t answer. He felt conflicted with you, but somehow the bond you were building kept deepening. And he knew in his mind that he would never be willing to let go of someone like you.

The weekend had arrived and, as usual, the cafeteria was a mix of chaos and tranquility, but this time there was something different in the air. Jay had not shown up for work and not only that morning but for 3 days, and it was immediately clear that his absence weighed on you. You felt frustrated and, for the first time, even a little angry. You knew that Jay had his priorities, the baseball team above all, but you never would have imagined that he would disappear without even a warning, You had discovered that he went to Japan for a game thanks to the social media of the university team and I asked you where had gone the girl a few months ago who didn’t care about these things?

While you were making coffee, the thought of Jay skipping the weekend without telling you anything made you bite your lower lip. Maybe he thought you would understand, that you would be comfortable with his absence, but you weren’t the type who easily accepted being put on the back burner. Although you were always sympathetic to him, you felt slightly angry at the time for the feelings you were beginning to feel for him. After all, there were no signs that Jay would consider you a priority, were there?

"Why didn’t he even warn me?" you mumbled in a low voice

The hours passed and his frustration grew ever greater. The evening was coming and, although you had a lot to do, the thought of Jay did not leave you, in the maxi screen of the cafeteria came a lot of his friends including Jungwon to see the game late in the morning and everyone talked about him.

Perhaps you needed a break, to forget for a while its presence in the cafeteria and your heart.

That night you went back to the apartment and it was empty because T/L was from Jungwon. You took a hot shower but after a few minutes, you heard the beep of a message on your phone.

The news you were waiting for, or perhaps that you feared, had arrived: Jay was back in Seoul. And instead of going straight home, he went to your house without changing.

You looked at the message, uncertain whether to answer or not. "Why now?" you thought with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.

A few minutes later, you heard the bell ring, and when you noticed Jay appeared, with his bad boy air that seemed to be an integral part of him. He hadn’t even changed his team logo sweatshirt, but you noticed him right away, the one who knew how to draw everyone’s attention in the room.

«Hey,» he said, with his smile that had a shadow of sincerity that could not hide. «I thought it would be nice to stop by before going home. I missed you.»

You looked at him with a mixture of disapproval and disbelief. "You missed me? Yet you didn’t even have the decency to warn me that you wouldn’t come to work."

Jay stepped towards you, but you moved away from him so that he would not be too far behind. «I’m sorry,» he said sincerely. «The team needs me, you know. But... it’s not that. I really missed you. I didn’t think I would miss being away from you so much. I didn’t write because I wanted to give you some space for what happened in the bar with that guy...».

Jay’s words touched you more than you wanted to admit. But your anger didn’t go away so easily. Despite missing him, you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was gone without even giving her a warning.

"Here’s the bad boy that everyone loves, who goes away without a word," You said, trying to keep his coolness. "And now you’re coming back to me like nothing happened."

Jay looked at you intensely, and his smile slowly faded. He knew his actions had hurt you, but he couldn’t control his desire to be with you. Your presence was the only thing that made him feel...complete, even if he did not want to admit it out loud.

He came to you and put a hand gently on your cheek and with his thumb caressed it. «I didn’t want to upset you,» he said, his voice softer than it had ever been before. «I just want to be with you. You’re important to me.»

You felt your heart beat faster, and despite all that you had felt for his absence, you could not ignore the fact that Jay had always specially treated you, in a way no one else had ever done.

But you didn’t want to be just a "secondary priority" in his life. He’s tired of feeling like that as if you were just a hobby for him.

"Is it too much?" you asked him, a little angry. "Is it not enough that I make room for you in my life, Jay?"

He stared at you for a moment, and then, with a calm he had never before, wrapped you in a hug. «No. I never have enough,» he said, whispering to your neck. «Because you are the only thing I want and now I will show you.»

Jay pushes you into bed while he continues to kiss you and takes off that wrinkled shirt and the short shorts you used as pajamas, touches your panties slightly but he was rid of them immediately also, and lays you near the edge to make you come.

«Stretch it out more, darling, today I will make you feel good». His voice is hoarse as his hands go to press on your thighs until he has no sight of your sparkling pussy.

His cock is flinching at the sight of your beautiful pussy. Fuck. You’re dripping in your excitement, and all he did was kiss you. Yet, there is already a messy web of excitement covering your swollen lips. She growls slightly when she sees your beautiful pussy clenching for the need to have her fingers inside and his cock.

You’re milking gently when Jay presses his middle finger and index against your pussy to spread your lips. The warmth of his fingers is different from when you touch yourself it’s much better, "Jay more pls, it’s much nicer to feel your fingers around me than mine that are small". Jay, when he heard this phrase stopped for a moment to look at you, how was it possible that the girl who scolded him constantly touched?

Jay puts two fingers between your folds. He curls it and slowly pumps it, feeling your hot wet pussy stretch around his long fingers. Just as he thought you were tight and had to prepare you for his cock.

«Fuck, sunshine. You’re so sensitive and wet just for me» His growl is deep and makes you clench his fingers. «I need to taste you."

The excitement clouds your mind and makes you feel drunk as it pumps more and more of its long fingers around your pussy. The way Jay looks at you like you’re the thing he wants most in the world makes you gush out of his fingers. Her hot mouth clings to your clitoris, swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud. You scream as his fingers slowly start to fuck your hole, reaching out to prepare for his cock.

"Jay" You scream as you bow back, pressing your pussy against his face in search of release.

Your groans stop when he forces his tongue into the tightness of your pussy. The moans she gives you make you release more juices in her mouth while waiting.

«Fuck, Y/N.» Jay moans in your soggy pussy. «You have a sweet pussy, the most beautiful and the sweetest."

All you can focus on is the way his tongue penetrates you with a force that makes you see stars. He skilfully slides his soft tongue along your aching folds until all you can do is shout for him. Jay smiles between your folds, fingers slowly massaging you deep.

When you look down you see that he is looking at you with unconditional desire, Jay groans along with you as you come all over his face. His cock contracts against the sheets as you keep moving your hips to crush your pussy in her mouth. With a low moan, she continues, using her tongue to fuck you during your orgasm.

You’re a panting disaster when it moves away. His chin is covered by your release and for a moment you wonder how someone can be so fucking attractive.

«Are you ready?" said Jay as he took off his Calvin Klein boxer shorts and saw his cock already erect and how reddish

"I didn’t think the campus rock star would ask if a girl is ready to get fucked by him" You watched with your mouth slightly drooling as he slowly caresses, smearing the presenial liquid that drips from his thick tip all over his venous length.

«Stop teasing me, sunshine, that I have always been too good to you» His voice was sweet but at the same time decisive.

Jay lined up at your entrance and your hands were weaving in his hair, bringing it back to your lips. He immediately returned the kiss, slowly pushing his hips forward and wrapping himself in your tight warmth.

You frown, your lips separated from hers as your face twitched and a moan overflowed from your lips, quickly closing your mouth. «Fuck, you’re so tight, I thought I’d prepared you for sunshine»

You couldn’t say a word, the noises stuck in your throat as he practically split you in half with his dick. In the end, he hit the bottom with a strong push and you could hear every ridge and vein, a deep breath that left him while he spoke, his voice trembled, «I’m about to start moving»

«move Jay pls, I need to hear you» whispers, a whimper sliding from your lips as he pulls himself out, pushing back in faster than before.

You couldn’t think clearly, your mind was confused and completely focused on how good you were feeling at the time, how well jay was fucking you, setting a perfect rhythm, and making you feel so good with him.

"Jay, fuck," you mumbled, your hands moving on his neck, his arms, his back, wherever you could grab to root. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed quietly through the room and small moans came out of your lips.

«I will make you cum on my cock. I’ll let you understand that for me you’re not just a hobby but everything for me» he sighed, his hand coming down to press on your stomach, your eyes wriggling back for the pressure, «fuck, you’re taking me so well, sunshine, full of my dick»

He stopped for a second and grabbed your legs and pressed them against your chest, holding them there by the back of his knees as he started moving again, the new angle made him feel even deeper. " Fuck, oh my god", you whined, throwing your head backward against the pillow. Had practically locked you under his grip, unable to do anything but take it all.

A certain push pushed him up against your G-spot, and a broken jolt left your lips as you pulled his hair lightly and began to suck on the sweet spot you loved so much «Right there?»

"Yes, yes, please oh my god," you stammered. he sped up, hitting the perfect spot repeatedly. You feel your high growing fast, the band ready to break.

"I’m close," you whined, and his hand immediately went down to rub circles on your clitoris. The added stimulation pushed you even closer to the limit, your eyes closed.

«Me too, baby. I’ll fill you with my sperm» he groaned, his thrusts became sloppy as he approached the limit, "would you like, this time to be filled not your mouth but your pussy?»

"please, I need it. I need your sperm", you complain, your hands pulling the sheets harder as you feel the band in your stomach getting tighter, "I’m going to come!"

He accelerated his thrusts, rubbing harder on your clitoris, «come for me»

His words pushed you over the edge, your toes clenched and your eyes rolled back as your orgasm exploded, and your release poured out all over his cock. Your pussy squeezed tight around him, making it harder for Jay to move while he moaned, watching how your face writhed as you succumb to overwhelming pleasure.

«Fuck, baby. you hold me so tight. I’m about to come, I’ll fill you» his voice was choked and trembling, his hips were slamming against yours as he shot his sperm inside of you, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He swung his hips slowly against yours, helping you both to overcome your heights.

Your breath slowed down as your body relaxed in the sheets, trying to process what had just happened. his forehead fell softly against yours as he pressed a sweet kiss on your lips before freeing your legs, making you put your weak body over his and squeezed you to himself, You still felt his cum gnawing off your pussy but were too exhausted to get up.

Jay sprayed your hair and gave you another little kiss on the forehead «Do you understand that for me you will never be a sunshine pastime? It’s from the first time I saw you that I dreamed of having you, but I didn’t think you had such a difficult character with me»

You laughed lightly against his neck and you leaned even closer to him as you heard his heart beating fast.

"I hope so for you, Jay, because even if at the beginning you irradiated me I always found you fascinating and as I am yours, you will be mine" Jay started to laugh and moved slowly to look you in the eyes. «I didn’t think my favorite barista could be so territorial with me, but I like sunshine!»

I hope you like it:) I had a lot of fun writing this one-shot about Jay🎸

comments and reblog are appreciated

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[demonic0angel]

Blackbat, Red hood, and Red Robin are investigating the Cult of the Ghost King, which has recently moved into Gotham. They get caught up in a ritual and sent to the dp universe, right on top of team Phantom.

"The circle's activating! Hood, do something!" Red Robin screamed.

Red Hood was only able to pull out his sword for only a moment before the ritual activated and then they were transported. Red Hood grabbed both Black Bat and Red Robin, using his armor to cushion them both after being tossed out of the circle. Breathlessly, they were thrown onto hard ground.

... and something soft?

The three jumped to their feet and looked at their surroundings.

What they had landed on was a very unfortunate plant.

"Crap! Sam's Lilith Vines!" One person said and they looked in that direction, seeing a group of four people stare back at them, one of them looking very contrite. “She’s going to kill me if she sees that they’re crushed!”

Another looked at the four with an extremely worried expression on her face. “Uh. This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”

The tallest one, who had a black veil over her head, said, “Oh dear. D— Your Majesty, I think this is related to the summoning circles that were copied from the palace libraries.”

Said Majesty, who had been looking at them with irritation, crumpled to his knees with a wail. “Dammit! Not again! Why?! I hate the damn cults!”

The last person said with a hum and a smirk on his green skin, “It didn’t work though. It transported people to us instead of the opposite. Hah! Humans are so incompetent.”

Red Hood stood up first, brandishing his All-Blades. He could definitely feel some sort of evil presence amongst the four and neither he nor his siblings could recognize their surroundings, only seeing a green world with floating doors and islands. “Who the hell are you?! You better answer, or I’ll cut you down!”

The tall one gasped. “Oh! The All-Blades! That’s amazing, I can’t believe that there’s someone in the mortal realm who’s been able to learn—”

“Jazz, please do not fangirl right now.”

Red Robin stepped up, inspecting the group of four as he interrupted their yammering. “Can you tell us what’s going on? We don’t want a fight. We need to get back home.”

Black Bat’s posture was relaxed, which was a good sign. However, Red Hood and Red Robin still stood side-by-side in preparation for a fight from the four beings that were clearly not fully human, evident by their glowing hair and eyes and hidden appearance.

The four all shared a look.

The tall one approached Red Hood and gently lowered the blade of his swords. Red Hood stiffened but allowed it, as the touch of the All-Blades did not affect her. Underneath her veil, was a small smile and both Red Robin and Black Bat shared an exasperated look as Red Hood visibly grew flustered, straightening his back and rolling back his shoulders.

“We’d be happy to help you get back home. I’m afraid that this is… a byproduct of a problem we had a while ago.” There was a cough from behind her that she ignored. Black Bat tilted her head and looked behind Red Hood’s back to stare at the other three as they stifled their laughter and pointed coughs. “We’ll help you in any way we can.”

Red Hood could still sense the evil presence, but the woman in front of him was warm and reassuring. His blades didn’t give any sign of trickery, so he finally tucked them away with a stiff nod.

“Yes please. Lead the way, princess.” His face felt oddly warm as the tall woman gave him another sweet smile, partially covered by her veil.

One of the beings, small and male, nodded his head and said, “Alright, follow me. I’m the Ghost King. We’ll bring you three home safe and sound, on my honor. Promise.”

[florihaei]

𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁?-𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸˚ ୨୧˚

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁- 1.3k ♡

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁-mark! x reader! ♡

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: friends with benefits to lovers ♡

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀-suggestive(kinda?)/ mark does call reader pet names (sweet girl, pretty girl, baby/ kissing/everything is in lowercase on purpose♡

୨୧˚𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 - this is probably the longest story I ever wrote it i actually like it! (feedback/likes/reblogs and requests really helps!)

you felt the bass vibrating through your bones, the lights flashing in time to the beat as the party buzzed around you. you’d come with mark, your on again, off again friends with benefits. but tonight, something felt… different. you were restless, aware of every movement in the crowded room, but most of all, you were aware of mark.

he was across the room, laughing with a girl you didn’t recognize. tall and pretty, the girl had long blonde hair that glinted under the lights. she had leaned in close to mark, one hand on his chest, laughing as she tilted her head back. marks arm was wrapped around her waist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her hip.

you felt a pang in your chest you sure hadn’t expected. yoy told herself it shouldn’t matter; you had no claim over him or what he did. but there he was, holding that girl in a way that felt too… familiar.

as if sensing your gaze, mark looked up, meeting your eyes. he flashed you a quick smile, and you forced yourself to smile back before looking away. but your skin prickled with jealousy, and you felt a surge of irritation. why is he touching her like that?, did he really not care about you? you thought, clenching your hands around your cup.

the girl leaned even closer, whispering something in his ear, her lips brushing the side of his face. mark grinned, nodding as he murmured something back. your heart twisted, and you felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. why am I even here? , he obviously didn’t care that you were just sitting there alone? you thought.

without another glance, you turned, weaving your way through the crowd toward the door. the night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the stuffy warmth inside, and you welcomed it, taking a shaky breath as you stepped outside.

“pretty girl wait!”

you froze right in your tracks, your heart lurching at the sound of his voice. turning, you saw mark hurrying toward you, his brow furrowed.

“what’s going on?” he asked, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music spilling out of the house. ��why are you leaving pretty?”

“go back to your new friend,” you said as you scoffed, crossing your arms. you tried to sound indifferent, but your voice wobbled.

he blinked, taken aback, he had caught in very quickly . “wait… pretty girl..you… are you jealous?”

you rolled her eyes. “i’m not jealous. i just… i wasn’t feeling it anymore.. this party anymore .” your voice trailed off

marks eyes searched yours, the smirk slowly fading as he stepped closer. “so, if I’d been hanging out with my sweet girl.., you’d be ‘feeling it’?”

“i don’t know, mark.” you huffed, turning your gaze toward the street. “it’s not like it matters, it doesn’t even matter anymore..”

“baby., what’s going on?” his voice softened, and he reached for your hand, but you quickly pulled it away. he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “pretty… you’re acting like i did something wrong.”

you could feel your heart resolve, cracking, frustration bubbling up as you finally looked him in the eye. “you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? i just… i don’t like being at a party where i have to watch my… my friend flirt with someone else.”

mark stared at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “pretty.., you just admitted it. you’re jealous.”

“can you stop saying that,” you snapped, your cheeks flushing. “i don’t have any reason to be jealous.”

he stepped closer, and he felt your heart pounding in your chest. “maybe you do.”

“mark please, don’t start,” you whispered, your voice barely steady. “this was supposed to be simple, remember? friends with benefits. no feelings. just fun.”

“is that really all you want pretty girl?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze holding yours.

“of course it is,” you said, but the words felt hollow even as you spoke them.

mark raised an eyebrow. “really sweet girl? because i don’t buy that for a second.”

you swallowed, your gaze dropping. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you know exactly what im talking about.” he reached out, gently lifting your chin so you had to look at him. his thumb brushed your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “and i think it’s about time we stopped pretending.”

your heart was racing as you tried to hold on to your last shred of resistance. “mark…”

“tell me pretty..,” he murmured, his face inches from hers. “is this really what you want? just casual, no strings?”

your breath caught, and you felt yourself wavering. “i…”

mark leaned closer, his hand resting lightly on your hip. “because if it is, i’ll back off. but if you’re feeling something more, i need to know.”

your voice was barely a whisper. “i can’t do this, mark..,i can’t just… let myself feel that way.”

“why not pretty girl?” his voice was soft, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip.

“because…” you struggled to find the words. “because what if it doesn’t work? what if I’m just some… some fling to you?”

he quickly shook his head, his gaze intense. “my sweet girl.., you’re not just a fling. you never were. i thought you knew that.. you were always my girl..”

you looked away, your chest tight. “i don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“then let me show you.” he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours . “just… let me in.”

before you could protest, his lips met yours, gentle at first, but quickly deepening as you melted into him. your hands found his shoulders, clutching him as the last of your walls crumbled.

when you both finally broke apart, he kept his arms around you, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“so… what now?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with hope.

he grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “now, we stop pretending pretty.”

you bit your lip, your fingers still resting on his chest. “are you sure? no more flirting with random girls?”

mark chuckled, shaking his head. “not if it makes you this jealous. besides…” His voice softened as he looked at you. “i’ve only ever wanted you, my sweet girl.”

you felt a smile breaking through, despite yourself. “you’re impossible.”

“and you’re adorable when you’re jealous,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your nose.

you rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away, finally feeling like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

from that night on, things shifted between the both of you. the rules you had both set faded, replaced by a new closeness that you both hadn’t allowed yourselves before. it was no longer “just fun” or “just friends.” it was something real, something that made your heart race every time you saw him.

one evening, a few weeks after that party, they were lying on the couch in marks apartment, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced patterns on your arm.

“you know…” mark murmured, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. “i still can’t believe it took us this long to get here.”

you smiled, your fingers trailing along his side. “yeah. i guess i was just… scared.”

“scared of me pretty?” he teased, tilting your face up so he could meet your gaze.

“no,” you said softly, “scared of what it would mean to actually care about someone this much.”

he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to be scared anymore, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”

you looked up at him, feeling your heart swell with a mix of happiness and relief. “good. because i think i’m finally ready to stop running.”

marks smile softened as he pulled you closer, his voice barely a whisper. “then we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d found something real, something that mattered. and as you looked into his eyes, you knew you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

[i-dared-myself]

Gifts For My Pretty

Minho x reader

Requested part two to this

18+

Cw: Sugar daddy x reader, so some daddy kink. Smut.

“Baby,” Minho drawls, glancing up from his phone. His hair is unstyled, fresh from the shower and falling into his eyes. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

You put your book down in your lap, snuggling further into your armchair. It’s a big, puffy one, sitting across from the couch he’s in. “Uh, I’m not sure. Why?”

Minho returns his attention back to his device. “No reason.”

You frown at him. “There’s obviously a reason. What are you hiding?”

He arches an eyebrow at you, eyes flicking to your face. He seems to study your expression before his lips curl up. “Baby, don’t you trust me?”

You nod, eager for anything more he can tell you. “Yeah. I trust you.”

Minho stands, tucking his phone into your pocket. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You scowl at him, crossing your arms. When he leans in to kiss you, you dodge so he gets your cheek.

Minho narrows his eyes, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “What was that for, huh?”

You turn your head away from him. “You won’t tell me, so you don’t get kisses.”

Minho scoffs. “Oh, please. I’m leaving now and I want my goodbye kiss.”

You spin on your heel and march away. “Good luck with that. I’m sure Jisung or Felix would kiss you if you asked nicely.”

“No,” Minho sharply says. “Baby, you’ll find out what I have planned. You just have to wait.”

You jut your chin out defiantly. You’re not giving in anytime soon. “Then you’ll have to wait for a kiss.”

“I’ll give you one last chance,” he says patiently, although his eyes shine with something you recognize. Something that tells you he’s not as calm as he appears. 

You smile sweetly. “Goodbye, Minho. I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe.”

Minho studies you for a moment before inclining his head. “Goodnight, then.” He chuckles darkly. “You’ll regret this.”

You slam the door in his face, grinning to yourself. You settle back into your armchair, resuming from the page you had left off. But it’s hard to focus. Your mind swirls with thoughts of Minho, and what he’s promised you.

And when you wake the next day, to a text from him telling you to have a good day, you frown.

Did he forget? Is he not mad anymore?

Did Jeongin steal his phone again?

You fire back a simple message wishing him the same. You know he’s off at practise today, and will likely visit your apartment to unwind. 

That’s likely when he’ll explain whatever the surprise is, and you can’t wait. Maybe your impatient, but that’s not important.

Your phone buzzes again.

Chan: Hope you have a fun day lol Minho seemed happy to get a day off

You: What? 

You: He’s not here. He had a day off?

Three dots pop up before fading away. When they come up again, you only have to wait a second for his response.

Chan: Oh

You scowl and go to your conversation with Minho. He hasn’t even read your morning message, which really irritates you. And worries you, but you’re mostly focusing on the being pissed part.

You: Where r u???

There’s a knock on your door, making you startle. You look out through the peephole before wrenching the door open.

“What is wrong with you?” you demand. “You worried me!”

Minho blinks before tipping his head at you. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t get my goodnight kiss and it threw me off.”

You pout at him, turning away. “I should leave you out in the hallway for that.”

Minho wraps his arms around you, kissing your forehead. “Aw, and I was going to take you shopping.”

You perk up. “You really don’t have to…”

Minho props the door open for you, smiling softly. “Let’s go. You’re lucky you’re too pretty for me to be mad at.”

You duck your head at the praise, going out the door. You had been dressed up, planning on just going out for the fun of it. But now you have Minho to keep you company.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you climb into his car. You place your purse on your lap as he adjusts his mirror.

“Ah, that’s the surprise.” His eyes glint at you as he turns, placing his hand on your headrest to turn out of the parking spot. As he pulls his hand away, his fingers ghost your cheek.

You arrive at a shop, instantly greeted by the workers when you enter. Minho has a few places that he brings you to when you shop together, chosen for their discretion and silence on his private life. This is one of them, but not one of the ones he commonly beings you to.

“A lingerie store?” you question as you look around at all the colourful fabrics and materials. There’s so many shades and types.

“Of course.” Minho kisses the top of your head. “I want to spoil my baby. Why don’t you pick some things, and you can try it on for me?”

You side-eye him, wondering what the catch is. Wasn’t he supposed to be mad at you?

“Okay,” you warily say, reaching out to a rack. Minho simply watches you as you browse the selection, finally picking out a few options.

“Go to the changing room, baby.” Minho motions off to the corner of the store. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

You wander off with your choices, shutting the door behind you. You slip your clothes off and hold up the set to your body, tilting your head at your reflection.

“Very pretty,” Minho softly says as he enters the little change room, shutting the door behind him. “But… not quite what I had in mind.”

You frown. Was this not good enough? Did he want something with more skin?

“I like the ones with the straps.” Minho walks up to your back, pressing his body against yours. “Y’know, the straps? Across the thighs?”

“Garters?” you ask, letting him suck marks into your neck. “Oh… I didn’t grab any with those.”

“But do you like them?” Minho murmurs against your skin. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

You give a little shrug, not particularly caring. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

Minho holds up a set that he had chosen. “I’ll go buy this, then. Pick anything else you like; it’s on me.”

So you follow him out of the store, bags hanging from your arms, while Minho keeps his hand on your waist. He smirks at you once you climb into the car. The Minho smirk, that makes you scared and horny at the same time.

“What?” you demand. “What was that for?”

Minho hums as he slides into the driver’s seat. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been planning something,” you say, crossing your arms. “You’re not getting any kisses until you tell me what it is.”

Minho glances over at your back, hands on the wheel. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh yeah?” You arch an eyebrow at him. “Try me. Come at me, bro!”

“Bro?” Minho scowls, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. His forehead is creased, a clear sign of his ire. “I fucking dare you to call me that again.”

“Uh-“ You swallow thickly, knowing that you’ve maybe gone too far. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Minho reaches a hand out, placing it on your thigh. His grip is tight, and he wrenches your thighs apart. “Sorry, what?”

You bite your lip when he rubs two fingers against your panties, directly overtop your pussy. “Uh- Sorry for calling you bro.”

“Wrong.” Minho clicks his tongue, removing his hand. It goes back to the wheel and you blink in surprise. “When we get back home, you’re going to open the present I put out on your bed. Then, you’re going to learn some fucking manners.”

You gape at him in shock. “When did you put something on my-“

“I don’t want another word out from you,” he snaps. 

You sit in silence for the rest of the ride. There’s a heat in your stomach, only growing hotter when Minho locks the car door so you can’t get out. He walks at a leisurely pace to your side of the car, before opening the door for you.

“I could’ve just done that myself,” you say in amusement, but accept his offered hand. He helps you out of the vehicle before pressing you up against the front of the car, hands on either side of your head.

“Last chance, baby,” he croons. “Kiss me.”

You turn your face away. “Not until you tell me what you have planned.”

Minho straightens and dusts his pants off, heading to your building. You stare after him for a moment before gathering your bags and chasing after him. He doesn’t say anything to you in the elevator, waiting for you to enter your home to speak.

“Go open it,” he absently orders, settling onto your armchair. He pulls out his phone and ignores you, leaving you with no choice but to go to your room.

There’s a black gift, wrapped with a bed ribbon. You slide the upper portion of the box off, revealing a set of lingerie. It has garters like he had described, and you undress.

You slip it on, tightening the straps until it digs into your thighs slightly. You hesitate before padding to the living room, where Minho is.

“Is this… Good?” you ask with a tinge of fear. What if he likes it, but not on you?

“Very good,” Minho breathlessly says. His bottom lip rolls into his mouth and he smirks at you again. “Why don’t you come sit down, hmm?”

You happily wander over to him, straddling his lap. You rest your chin on his shoulder and let him touch you. His hands explore your body, even though he’s seen you naked and in much more explicit ways than this.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he murmurs as he squeezes your hips. “I’m so glad that you liked what I picked… I’ve been waiting a month to use it.”

You grind down on him lazily, humming to yourself. “Use it?”

“Like this.” Minho curls his fingers over garter straps, using is as handles to yank your legs apart. You yelp and clutch at his shirt as your thighs are forced wide. “There we go.”

“Minho-“ You exclaim before he slaps your thigh harshly. The smack resonates throughout the room, leaving you with a stinging sensation.

“Hush, baby,” Minho chides. “Let daddy have his fun.”

You clench around nothing, a moan spilling past your lips. He’s never referred to himself that way, and you can’t say that you hate it.

He pushes your underwear to the side, pressing two fingers into you. You’re wet enough that he can fit them inside you, and you clutch at his shirt. The fabric bunches up when you grab at it.

“Gotta stretch you out for me,” Minho murmurs. He uses the hand that’s not inside you to pull your legs wider for him, grasping at the garter. “Gonna fill you and stretch you so good, because you’re my pretty baby.”

The strap at your thigh is cutting into your skin with how tightly he’s pulling at it. You squirm as he pushes the two fingers as deep as he can into you.

“Think you can cum just from this?” Minho asks slyly, tilting his head. He locates your g-spot with a cruel smile. “Can daddy’s pretty baby cum?���

“T- Too soon,” you moan out, twisting away from him. He’s relentless in his pursuits of your orgasm. “M- Minho! S’too soon!”

“Aht, what was that?” Minho’s thumb finds your clit in a firm, punishing press. “What’s my name?”

“Min- Min-“ You let out a strangled cry as he hits your thigh again. You squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Daddy!”

“There we go,” Minho smugly says, stroking his fingers against your insides. His smirk makes you drip further. He just has such an intense effect over you. “So good for me, hmm?”

You writhe as you’re suddenly falling over the edge. He bullies his digits against your g-spot, continuously stimulating it. 

It’s way too much pleasure. Your entire body is on fire, legs shaking, clenching and unclenching around his wrist. Your throat hurts before you know it, and you faintly realize it’s because you’re screaming.

Minho shushes you, kissing you softly. The gentle affection helps you down from your high.

“Ready for cock, baby?” Minho scissors his fingers out, stretching you a bit more. He removes himself from his pants, and you feel yourself get wetter at the sight. He’s throbbing for you, dick flushed and already being lined up with your hole.

“Fuck me good,” you demand, hooking your ankles around his back to yank him closer. His tip slips into you and you realize how overstimulated you already how.

Your throat hurts don’t know what kind of witchcraft he preformed earlier, but you’re still trying to get him closer. Deeper. 

Minho is bottomed out in one harsh thrust. You yelp and claw at his shoulders, already bouncing with his next movements. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, breathless whimpers being punched out of you with each rock of his hips. It’s so much, in the way that you love.

Time fades to just the glide of him in and out, and in and out. Your mind settles into that fuzzy space where you don’t have to worry about anything. Minho can take care of you.

“Daddy’s going to fill you, and then you’re going to cum again, alright?” Minho says into your ear. He hums, grunting as he gets closer to his climax. “Can you do that for me?”

“C- Can’t.” You squirm around on his lap, but he doesn’t let you get away. The garter drags you closer to him your impending orgasm. You feel a tear trickle down your face. “Too much!”

“You can take it.” Minho’s mouth falls open as he orgasms. His finger is circling at your clit and it’s closer and closer-

Minho is peppering your face in kisses. “Are you back, baby?”

You blink up at him before scrunching your face up. “Stop it. You’re getting my face wet.”

Minho’s eyes glint before he licks your cheek. You shriek in outrage and try to get away, but he holds your hips to prevent escape.

“Nuh-uh.” Minho clicks his tongue. “Not so fast. Gotta give you aftercare.”

“Get your wet tongue away!” You exclaim, but let him take care of you. You hum under his caring touch, eyes fluttering shut in contentment.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @strawberryscentedd @iwuberic @mbioooo0000 @lezleeferguson-120

[prncessrindou]

Rindou getting his soul sucked out by reader while on zoom call with his gang IT WILL BE MY EARLY BIRTHDAY GIFT PLEASE 🙏

cw include: fem!reader & oral sex ( m rec ) // ft. sanzu & koko

the sun is barely out but that doesn’t stop you from kissing up on your boyfriend. he’s just barely awake and his sleepy voice drives you insane, makes you even rub your thighs together.

“rinnie,” you whine softly, placing a kiss on his cheek. “wake up.. i’m bored.” you say.

rindou groans, “and i’m guessing you’re horny too?”

“wh— why do you think that?!” you asked.

“‘cuz why else would you be up at six in the morning, kissing on me and trying to play with my dick?”

you rolled your eyes and pouted. before you could say anything, his phone rung. “what the fuck..” rindou mumbled, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. the bright light from the phone almost blinded his sleepy tired eyes but after his eyes finally adjusted to the name on the screen, he just sighed deeply.

“who is it?” you asked.

“the gang..” rindou responded, “dunno what they could possibly want at six o’clock in the fuckin’ morning!”

“then don’t answer it.” you said, “ignore them!”

just as those words fell from your mouth, rindou had already answered the video call and waited for the connection to go through before speaking. “whaddya want?” he asked bluntly.

“well, good morning to you too, rude ass.” you recognize the voice to be sanzu. “by the way, koko’s the one that made this group call.. not me, so you could be a little more nicer.”

rindou scoffed, “firstly, like i’d ever be nice to you and secondly, koko, why are you calling us this early?”

kokonoi cleared his throat, “most of you didn’t even answer, including your brother, but i’ll just relay the message anyways.” he said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

as koko went on talking about whatever, you couldn’t resist teasing and touching on rindou to get him riled up.

“hang up now,” you whispered in his ear. “need you..”

rindou waved you off as he continued to listen to koko — ignoring your advances and such. you were pissed to say the least. getting pushed to the side or ignored was not your forte at all. you like getting what you want right then and there and if it meant you had to take it instead then so be it.

and with that, you wasted no time pulling rindou’s cock out of his sweatpants — you began stroking his thick length and giving the tip subtle soft kisses. you then gathered up some spit and covered his dick with it, making it all messy and nasty before taking him whole in your warm mouth.

rindou hissed slightly, “shit..” he murmured, throwing his head back further into the pillow.

“why are you breathing so hard into the phone?” sanzu asked, interrupting koko. “you sound like a mutt or something.”

rindou chuckled softly, licking his lips in the process. he ignored sanzu and began paying attention to you as you’re bobbing your head up and down his length. lewd squelching sounds filled your bedroom and soon enough, sanzu’s and koko’s ears.

“holy shit, dude!” sanzu exclaimed, “are you getting laid right now?!” he asked, seemingly getting excited off of the sounds he was hearing.

“fuckin’ disgusting..” koko spat, “i knew you all wouldn’t cooperate if i made this call. i’ll just send it in the damn group chat.”

“should’ve done that in the first place, smart ass.” rindou said, the phone up to his ear now.

koko clicked his tongue and hung up from the call. rindou laid his phone down somewhere on the bed and now all his attention was on you. your face and hands were covered in pre cum and saliva, but you didn’t mind how nasty things got — that’s exactly how rindou likes it.

“shit, pretty..” rindou hissed, “you’re so damn good at this.”

you bobbed your head a few more times before lifting your head up off his cock. your plump pouty lips and chin are covered in pre cum and your own saliva, yet it’s a beautiful sight to rindou. you started back stroking his length up and down with your hand and teasing his blushing tip with your tongue and thumb.

“are you done ignoring me now?” you questioned softly, giving his length kisses around the vein.

rindou nodded his head, smirking. “i’m off the phone, aren’t i?”

you rolled your eyes at his smart remark and crawled your way to him to give him a messy kiss on his soft lips. all while the both of you are making out, rindou totally forgot to hang up on his end of the call which left sanzu on the other end listening to everything.

he’s probably or most likely doing something lewd to himself due to the sounds he heard earlier. sanzu has no care in the slightest.

author’s note: hey anon ♡ i hope u enjoyed this and happy birthday ml!!!

[moonshynecybin]

rosquez + true hate’s kiss :3

how did this end up at 2k words well i’ve been in the forest. and i love elle. anyways i briefly considered making this fic a list of vale going around trying to mack on all of his enemies in chronological order which really made me laugh. like do we think jorge lorenzo shuts the door in his face. anyways anyone in this bar read macbeth

Marc’s voice is flippant in that tightly controlled way of his. It grates— nails over a chalkboard, red lines scratched over the skin on Vale’s back. Lines that should be scarred over after ten years, but that still manage to throb here and now, when he needs something that only Marc can give him.

“Why can’t you try someone else? You’ve had lots of rivals that you’ve fought more than me— Stoner, Biaggi, Gibernau.” His voice drags out the list, counting on his fingers.

Vale grits his teeth.

“None of them are, speaking technically, still my enemies.”

Marc points bluntly into his own chest. Vale points his own eyes at the sky. Nothing is ever easy with him.

“And I am? Because honestly, I have not fought against you in many years.”

It stings. Whatever. Marc never admits that he hates Vale— he never did, even when it was plain for everyone to see, spelled out in huge letters all over the racetrack. Vale pictures him pouting, wide mouth red and worried. No, officer, I was standing over there. Honey from his lips as he hides the gun behind his back.

Vale sucks on his teeth. Smiles beatifically.

“Everyone is telling me so.”

Marc huffs something that might be a laugh.

“Right. Well there is no fight here, if that is what you want.”

“That’s good at least. Because I’m not here for a fight.” Vale corrects, reminds, shuffles them deftly into order. Irritation won’t help here. “I’m here for a curse.”

“Yes, you’ve said.” Marc sighs. “Fine. Okay— Then how bad is it?”

Vale bares his teeth, not a smile. He doesn’t want to tell Marc the truth, but he will. The same sort of speech he gives his mechanics: A calculated revelation of weakness made slightly more bearable by the possibility of an improvement in circumstances. There’s a trade off for everything— there certainly always is with Marc.

“I can’t ride. I try to climb on a bike— it breaks down. I take a turn— I slide out. I go somewhere else, use someone else’s gear—it rains, the suit rips. The engine jams, the track floods, the gas is gone, the flight is delayed, there’s a meeting I can’t miss. It never ends. It’s all fucked.“

He licks his lips, pressing them harshly together, trying to contain any frayed bit of feeling cracking out of him. It’s been five very long months, everything that matters slipping like soap between his fingers whenever he tries to throw his leg over a chassis— too consistent and uncanny to be anything but a curse, and a good one. It’s cornering him into one of his least favorite emotions: desperation.

It’s also the biggest stretch of time that he’s been off a motorcycle in over thirty years, since before Marc was even born. He swallows hard and grinds down the thought down to dust.

There’s a sound to his right.

He looks up to the sight of Marc chewing his lip, eyes lit from within with some spark of badly suppressed emotion. Anger floods in, a cleansing balm as he recognizes the expression: Marc is trying not to laugh.

At the look on Vale’s face, he gives up trying.

“And what did it sound like, when you called Casey?” He imitates the sound of a dial tone, harsh and honking. Enamored with his own bad joke. Mean in the way Marc always is— like he doesn’t even realize.

“Ha,” Vale asserts, too hard and too loud, another little revelation. “Very funny.”

Marc tilts his head, laugh dying a little. A divot forms between his brows, his eyes below wide and innocent. As if Vale took his thumb and pressed it into the smooth, soft clay that made him.

Vale takes a deep breath. Chews on his fingernails.

He hadn’t actually called Casey, even if he’d rather deal with his repressed smugness any day of the week over Marc’s donkey braying— there would be no point. Rivalries of yesteryear don’t count, the curse breaker he’d talked to had been very clear on that front. In a way, she had said, he’s lucky that he hasn’t resolved things with Marc.

Lucky. He almost wants to laugh himself.

He doesn’t want to think about what will happen if Marc doesn’t give him what he needs. Sharp pain stings at his fingers, followed by a bright blossom of Marquez red. He’s bitten the skin around his nails bloody, another wound Marc is responsible for, among many. He balls his hand into a fist, and the red smears over his knuckles, staining him. Out, damned spot, he thinks, furious.

“Please, it was probably one of your fucking fans that cursed me in the first place.”

All at once, the sun drains out of the room—Marc’s face closes down, his expression falling through a trap door into the abyss.

“Don’t talk to me about that,” He says, hard, and Vale nearly flinches in recognition. Saves it just in time.

It’s rumor, but confirmed enough. Five years ago, the beginning of the 2020 season. Some asshole had lobbed a bolt of illegal magic at Marc during the race in Jerez. Vale remembers watching it on the screen in his box, the electric flashing missile of the curse, how the protective wards around the barriers had failed, sparking out in a horrifying shower— and how Marc had somersaulted through the air, dragging the bike into the gravel with him.

He had ended up saddled with broken arm, one that would never completely heal. A nasty bit of black market cursework. It didn’t stop him from trying to race the next week—Vale still doesn’t know who the fuck let that happen.

News had wormed its way through the grapevine that they caught the guy who did it eventually, but only after Marc had seen a specialist to put a partial block on it— an experimental layer of spellwork that had left new runes over the existing ones, lurid and ruined over his skin. Leave it to him to find a way to muscle his way through two curses tangling their way around him, both of them thick and iridescent as a fishing net.

Vale’s never asked if the person who cast it was one of his. It wouldn’t change anything. He guesses he has his answer.

He points at the almost-there glow of the arm. There’s a need to try to make this easy, understandable.

“Then what do you need for that, hm? Do this for me and I’ll get it for you. We’ll do a trade.”

Marc lets out a harsh noise, punched out of him in surprise. His shoulders get stiff, knitted across so snug he looks watertight. Vale wonders what he could pour into him— if he’d hold it, refuse to let it go.

Marc thinks on it for a second, his mouth twisting.

“Tell me why you didnt ask anyone else, first. Then I will.”

“I told you. My other rivals, they aren’t current enough.”

“And I told you, neither am I. You are still a racing driver, no? You have people you race against in that paddock, I assume. Or do you care enough over there to even bother to try and get mean?”

It feels like a slap.

Vale is silent. Seething.

Marc shrugs, chin-up at Valentino, handsome and terrible. Vale had almost forgotten: underestimating Marc is how you get hurt. He gestures at his arm, the glittering network of wards where the curse lives and throbs.

“Okay, you won’t tell me. Then we’ll both be broken.”

Vale takes a half step back before he remembers himself— failure isn’t an option here. He can’t have his ability to ride a motorcycle cupped in Marc’s hands like this much longer.

It would feel like he was a crow caught in a fox’s teeth. It would feel like this, right now, all the time. Unbearable.

“Because I need you to kiss me.” He admits. Not quite the truth, still close enough to the bone. He doesn’t know why it was Marc, exactly, except for all the reasons it couldn’t be anyone else. “That’s how to break the curse. Strong magic— If I want to get back something that I love, then someone who hates me has to kiss me.”

Surprise flickers over Marc’s face, and then cool nothing. Throwing a stone into a still lake and watching it swallow it up.

“Ah. I see. And you came to me.”

“Well, yes.”

Marc is silent, coiled around himself, mind working. Vale needed to kiss someone, someone who hates him, and he chose Marc. He feels horribly exposed— the blood on his knuckles drying gross and tacky. He takes a step forwards, forcing them back on track.

“So. What will you need, for your arm?” It could be anything— gold from a specific river, a lock of hair from a newborn cousin, a kind touch from a person who knew him when he was twenty, a plant from deep in the ocean, the feather of a rare bird, the blood of his grandfather. For Marc not to be able to get it, it must be hard to find.

Knocked out of his train of thought, Marc looks like he’s waking up, disoriented and off-balance. He glances up at Vale, and blinks hard enough that Vale could count every one of his lashes.

His mouth, red and lovely, opens. Trembles. It’s the same color as the wound on Vale’s hand.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” He breathes, and he leans towards him.

Marc’s lips, when they touch him, are hot, hard, and spiteful. Giving up too much of both of them for Vale not to take something back for himself. He licks against the bow of his mouth, bites at him, and grinds against the flat plane of his stomach. Hands grip him. Marc, like Vale knew he would, shudders. Satisfaction curls in his chest, thick and ugly. Voracious.

He crowds him against the wall and Marc moans, sending electric shocks down his spine. He’s tried to come up with words to describe it— how he wants Marc. The dangerous, unending well of it. He’s never gotten particularly close. He tries another language: one desperate, clinging kiss.

When he pulls back there Marc is again, the liquid color of his eyes— a glow between them. Gold is shining out of Vale’s fingertips, the ends of his bloody fingernails. Something in him splits, separates, like cracking an egg into a pan for a Sunday breakfast. The curse coming apart, breaking. He knows that if he got on a motorcycle right now, it would listen to him, just like Marc never does. Red-orange light washes across his eyelids when he blinks, and he focuses in on the man in front of him, the simple feel of him.

It’s warm, in the his chest for a moment. And then, when he notices it, very cold.

Marc’s arm glows too— a bright throbbing purple and red wound of light wrapping its way around his humerus, jagged and beautiful. It’s shrinking, fading away like water slipping down a drain until the smooth skin of his bicep remains. Healthy, smooth, unblemished. A perfect form.

“I guess you were right,” Marc says, eyes blazing even as he sways towards Vale. The same kind of ugly happiness swimming in his face. “I fix you— you fix me. Nice trade, no?”

“What?”

Marc flexes his bicep, rolls his shoulder in a circle and raises his arm above his head— he smiles, teeth white and brilliant, dazzling. He looks half a decade younger, pain sloughing off of him in giddy waves. No— he looks like he did when Vale first met him, the time that he remembers anyways, when Marc was older. There’s that same shock of joy and something more smug spreading across his face, jam on toast, sweet and sticky.

It makes Vale’s teeth ache.

“I haven’t been able to do that for years.” He marvels.

“Marc,” Vale tries to speak. Bright eyes meet his. “Your arm. It’s better.”

Marc shrugs. “Well, you kissed me.” He says it like it makes sense.

“The way to break your curse— it was the same as me? You needed to kiss an enemy?” Why hadn’t he asked earlier?

Marc shakes his head, still wiggling his fingers. He lays his other hand cross-wise on a diagonal over his upper arm, illustrating the old runes that laid there.

“No, no. Similar, but not the same. The doctors told me— there wasn’t anything really, that could stop it, the spell work was too tight, bonded onto me. The attempts to break it only made it worse, that’s why the latest spell to try and fix it had to layer on top of everything. But, you know— There’s one thing that can break any curse.”

Danger pricks up the back of Vale’s neck.

“That’s an old wives tale.” He says immediately. That’s not real— that sort of thing doesn’t happen. It’s for stories, fairytales you tell children.

Marc ploughs on.

“It might’ve broken yours too, honestly— I don’t know. We’re not rivals anymore, so. I thought it was worth a try.”

“I don’t believe you.” He’s starting to put together why Marc is so smug. Assurance will do that to a man. It trickles like ice down his spine.

Marc’s face is feverish, delirious, flushed and rosy. He grins as if he’s cracked a code, solved a cypher, found some sort of key to a puzzle. Maybe he has. Vale takes a step back.

“Believe what you want. The curse breaker I went to in the United States told me, and it’s true— the only way to get rid of any of the curses on me was True Love’s Kiss. “

He teeth are like a fox, sharp and white.

Vale wants to throw up.

“So— I guess you love me.”

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part thirteen

I don't even have anything to say besides good luck reading this one...and the next one...and the next... 🫣 Remember that I love you guys!

Warnings: ANGST!!!, panic attack, Richard Monroe being creepy and weird

“So,” Hotch checks his side mirrors before merging onto the interstate. “Strauss said she had already discussed this with you.”

You sigh, checking your watch. You’ve been on the road for barely twenty minutes. So much for the coffee being a peace offering.

“Yes,” you answer finally, rubbing your forehead. The caffeine did absolutely nothing for your headache. “When we had lunch before the last case.”

“Two weeks ago?”

“Yes,” you repeat, irritation rising already.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sorry, is that a rhetorical question?”

If he wasn’t driving, Hotch would’ve glared at you. Hard.

You roll your eyes, continuing anyway. “Because a new case came in, so we had other priorities — and Strauss didn’t say it was a sure thing. It was only a maybe.”

“If she mentioned it, it was already a sure thing.”

“Well, pardon-fucking-me.”

Hotch says nothing. You say nothing.

Maybe the coffee did do something, because for some reason, you break the silence. And give him a genuine answer.

“I didn’t think you needed to know— Don’t make that face.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“Yes, you are,” you hiss. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Because I knew you’d act like I didn’t tell you as a purposeful slight against you and for once, alright, that wasn’t my intention, I just—” You pause, voice quieting, “I didn’t want to think about it.”

Hotch stays quiet for a moment. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes, Hotch, I’m nervous about talking to a serial killer who seems obsessed with me and recognized me for some goddamn reason that I can’t place and it kept me awake last night — is that what you wanted me to say?”

The admission feels like you’ve cracked your chest open, baring your heart to him, goading him, daring him to make fun of you. You half expect him to, or you at least expect him to ask more prying questions, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t do any of that, and it shocks you so bad that it takes a minute to register what he’s actually just said to you.

“You don’t have to do this. I won’t force you.”

It’s not said in a teasing manner, or even the least bit condescending. It’s soft, genuine.

You sigh, wishing you could take him up on his offer and ask him to turn the car around. “I do. I do have to. I want him to keep cooperating in the investigation because…I don’t know, maybe it’ll lead them closer to who kidnapped Lila.” You turn your head, looking out the window. “But yeah, I’m scared. He creeps me out.” 

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Hotch says, still so genuine.

In any other circumstance, that would not have comforted you. You’re surprised that it comforts you right now. 

Part of you expected Hotch to force you to speak to Richard alone, just to watch you have another freak out, just so he can say he told you so. Admittedly, that doesn’t sound like something he’d do. Because as much as the two of you argue and get under each other’s skin, he isn’t a cruel person.

“Thank you,” you say, turning to look at him.

He glances at you for only a second, keeping his focus on the road. But he nods. “Of course.”

You let the silence hang for a bit, broken only by the soft sounds of The Beatles still playing on a low volume. Traffic is moving steadily; you’ll be at the prison in no time.

You contemplate telling Hotch the truth right now — ripping the band aid off, getting it over with before it can come out of Richard’s mouth. But then again, you don’t know if Richard will say the truth. He seemed to enjoy having one up on Hotch in the interrogation room, having a secret only the two of you knew, especially considering it was clear you weren’t going to disclose it.

You think of how Hotch has been the past few days. Reassuring you that you’re valuable to this team and deserve your place here. The peace offering of coffee that he somehow remembered correctly. The strange reassurance now, that he won’t force you to do this if you’re uncomfortable.

You think of what Rossi said that night at the hotel bar. How do you know that it’ll make Hotch look at you differently? You don’t know for sure.

But it’s all easier said than done. When it comes down to it, the words refuse to escape your throat, even as you’re finally giving them permission. It would be so simple to say it now, while you’re in the car, in private, and Hotch is behind the wheel so he’d be forced to control his emotions. You could say it right now.

You could.

But you don’t. You reach forward and turn the music up slightly, glancing in Hotch’s direction to see the tiniest of hints of a smile crawling up his lips.

That’s enough to make you stay quiet. You’d rather not ruin what little peace the two of you have found right now.

+++

You’re shaking like a leaf but doing your damnedest not to show it when Hotch parks at the prison. You unbuckle and go to open your door when Hotch places his hand on your arm, effectively bolting you in place. Slowly, your eyes drag over to his.

“The second you want to leave, you tell me,” he says, sincere and firm. “Okay?”

You nod, swallowing around the traitorous lump in your throat. “Yeah. Okay.”

He nods once to confirm, then removes his hand and steps out of the car, leaving you staring at the empty space. But you know if you don’t get out of the car in the next second, he’s going to make the executive decision that you can’t do this, and that’ll just piss you off. 

You can do this.

You force yourself out of the car, shutting the door mechanically. You reach into your pocket and find your badge, clipping it on the outside of your blazer. They’ll give you visitor badges when you head inside, but it’s easier to have this out. And somehow it makes you feel safer.

You follow Hotch to the entrance of the prison, going through the motions of checking in and locking your weapons away. You both knew you’d have to leave them at the door, but neither of you wanted to make the drive without them, just in case.

After finishing check in and sticking your visitor pass next to your FBI badge, you walk through the large steel doors. An officer waits just inside to guide you and Hotch to the block where Richard Monroe is already in a small room for you to speak with him.

“We didn’t think you’d come,” the officer says casually. “He’s been asking for you for weeks.”

You can practically hear Hotch’s scowl.

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, trying to sound just as nonchalant. “We had other pressing issues. He’s lucky I had a free afternoon.”

The officer chuckles, but says nothing else, weaving you and Hotch through other doors. You forgot how much prisons can feel like a labyrinth. You’re aware that that’s the point, but it does nothing to soothe your nerves.

You reach the final door standing between you and Richard Monroe, and it’s like your nerves skyrocket in one second, nausea threatening to buckle your knees.

Get yourself together, you scold internally. He can’t hurt you.

You mean for it to be reassuring, but your doubt creeps in. You don’t know for sure that he can’t hurt you. Physically, sure, he can’t, because he’s cuffed to a table that’s bolted to the floor and there are two officers standing guard directly behind him, and you have Hotch with you. But verbally? You have no idea what is about to come out of his mouth when he sees you.

“Ready?” the officer asks.

You nod, and Hotch does as well, only after seeing you do it.

The buzzer sounds out as the door unlocks, and the officer pushes it in, letting you and Hotch pass through.

“You came!” Richard’s voice echoes as soon as he spots you. “I told you she’d come!” he says, seemingly to the two officers standing behind him. He looks back at you, eager gaze hardening into a frown when Hotch appears behind you. “Oh. You brought him.”

Your mind finally kicks into gear, your countless hours of interrogation training flooding you as you offer a polite smile. “It’s nice to see you, Richard.”

His frown melts away just a fraction. “It’s nice to see you! I’d stand and properly greet you, but,” he holds up his hands, chains clanking when he reaches the end. “You know how it is.”

“That’s alright,” you say, pulling the chair out across from him and sitting down. “I heard you’ve been asking for me.”

“Took you long enough to answer,” he replies, only slightly bitter. His eyes flick toward Hotch who no doubt looms behind you. “Does he have to be here?”

You chuckle, threading your fingers together and resting them comfortably on the table. “Richard, you had to know there was no way I’d be allowed to speak to you alone, right?”

He practically pouts. “But why?”

You ignore him. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?” you ask, checking your watch. “I don’t have long.”

Richard seems unphased  by this, but his eyes glance back at Hotch. “Can you at least make him sit? He’s making me nervous.”

His tone isn’t at all serious, but still you oblige, turning to look at Hotch and nod for him to sit next to you.

You know Hotch doesn’t smile that often, but the frown he’s sporting on his face right now looks deeper than any others. You knew already, obviously, that he doesn’t like Richard Monroe, but it’s starting to feel a lot more serious than what he’s letting on.

When Hotch sits next to you, he leans on his forearms on the table, staring Richard down.

On second thought, maybe you should have fought harder to speak to Richard alone if Hotch is going to act like he’s trying to set the man on fire with only his eyes.

“Richard,” you say, gaining his attention so he’ll stop looking at Hotch with his taunting gaze. “What is it you wanted to speak with me about?”

“How’s Lila?” he asks.

“She’s fine, as far as I know,” you reply. “I haven’t spoken with her.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you shrug. You’re not going to bother explaining yourself to him. You know these aren’t the real questions he wants to ask. “Anything else?”

“How are you?”

Hotch tenses just a little, enough that only you would notice. Richard clearly doesn’t because he keeps his focus on you.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Thanks for asking. How are you?”

“Fine,” he shrugs, then goes quiet.

You sigh. “Alright, if that’s all, then we should be going, we have other—”

“Wait,” Richard nearly jumps forward, chains rattling. The officers behind him take half a step toward him, but you shake your head, telling them it’s fine.

“What?” you prompt. “As much as I love catching up with you, I can’t do this often. So ask what you need to because I can’t promise I’ll come here again.”

Richard glances at Hotch, then back at you. “Does he know?”

You hardly register what he might be getting at, so you parrot his question stupidly. “Does he know what?”

Richard smirks, eyes falling back on Hotch. “She hasn’t told you.” He pauses, smirk deepening the more he studies Hotch’s face. “Oh…but you do know,” he hisses, not unlike a snake. “But does she?”

Your eyebrows furrow, the panic starting to creep in. “Do I know what?” you ask, your voice firm. You turn to look at Hotch, finding him glaring at Richard, his jaw tense. “Hotch.”

He won’t look at you.

No. No.

“I think I know who kidnapped Lila, and why you haven’t found him yet,” Richard says, ever so casually, looking back at you, still grinning like the fucking cheshire cat. “And I think you know, too. Deep down. You just haven’t admitted to yourself yet.”

You don’t know what comes over you. The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. “My father is dead.”

“Oh, I know that,” Richard scoffs. “Not him, silly. Sorry for your loss, by the way. Well, for both losses.”

You feel Hotch’s gaze flick toward you for only a moment, but he doesn’t turn his head, keeping his glare leveled at Richard.

“Who, then?” you snap, barreling past all the emotions he’s dredging up, letting anger cover them all like a shield. “Give me a name, Richard, don’t fucking play with me.”

“Why not?” he starts to pout again. “It’s oh-so fun.”

“A name,” Hotch repeats, much harsher than you. “Now.”

“I don’t know his name,” Richard says, and you don’t believe him for a second. “Just that he was close with your dad. A little too close, I think, but,” he pauses with a dramatic sigh, lifting his fingers as much as he can to wave, “what do I know, right?”

“Anything else you’d like to spill?” you fume. “I’m not coming here again.”

“I’m surprised you came in the first place,” Richard taunts. “Though I’m not surprised you brought him. Bit of a guard dog, isn’t he?”

You clench your jaw so hard you’re worried you’re going to crack your molars. “That’s enough.” You push your chair back and stand to your feet, forcing your knees not to shake. “Thanks for wasting my time.”

“Always a pleasure,” Richard grins. “And please, shoot him when you find him?” he asks, bitterness curling his tongue. “The bastard was supposed to leave my daughter out of it.”

You have no fucking clue what that means, but you’re damn sure not sticking around to ask. 

You don’t even look behind you to see if Hotch is following you, but you know he is. You know his footsteps, especially when he’s irritated and walking briskly.

You stomp your way through all of the doors, saying nothing to the officer as he guides you back to the exit. 

You check out at the front, signing your name and collecting your belongings, securing your gun back on your hip. You rip the visitor badge off and hand it back to the officer at the front door.

You’re outside in the fresh air before you start breathing normally — if your deep, heaving breaths can be considered normal. You’re pacing in circles outside the car when Hotch finally catches up with you.

You brace yourself for some snide remark. For some prying questions. 

You brace yourself so hard for these things that you flinch when instead Hotch asks, “Are you okay?”

“Don’t fucking ask me that right now,” you snap, halting your steps just to glare at him. “How much do you know?”

“Get in the car.”

“No,” you say through gritted teeth. “Answer me.”

“Y/N.”

“Aaron.”

It’s the first time you’ve used his first name, and it causes him to physically take a step away from you. 

Somehow that’s as damning as when he wouldn’t look at you inside the prison with Richard.

“Unbelievable,” your voice is hoarse, breaking and tripping over every syllable. “I can’t— Oh my god, you—” You shake your head. “You’ve known—”

Alarm flashes over Hotch’s face. “Y/N…” he says, slowly stepping toward you like you’re a wounded animal that might flee. “You need to breathe.”

“Don’t,” you swat at the air, thinking he’s closer than he is. “Don’t.”

Hotch opens the passenger door, trying to herd you toward it. It doesn’t take much effort, your instincts acting on their own and forcing you toward a place where you can sit. It’s either the concrete of the parking lot, or the comfort of the car seat. You opt for the car.

He keeps his distance, standing at the edge of the door as he watches you sit and try to control your breathing again. You suck in gasps of air before you stop breathing entirely, and just when he thinks you’re going to faint, you exhale. 

It goes on, and on, and on, for what feels like hours. He stands there, helpless, knowing if he moves closer it’ll only make it worse. He will only make it worse.

Eventually, you gain control again and you turn, facing forward in the car, your knees pulled up to your chest. Hotch takes the opportunity to shut the door.

When he gets in the driver’s seat, you’ve let your knees down and buckled yourself in, and wrapped your arms around your middle.

He wants to hold you instead. He wants to make it better. He wants to fix this. He knows where he went wrong, but it was tearing him up inside, not knowing what was going on with you, and it’s tearing him up now, seeing you like this. Knowing now that you’ve been feeling this way this whole time, and you haven’t let anyone in. Haven’t let anyone help.

He wants to help. He wants you to want him to help. He wants you to let him in.

But you won’t. And he’s ruined all chances of that, and he has no one to blame except himself for the fury you’re about to rain down on him.

If you ever start talking.

You’re completely silent, and somehow that haunts him even worse than anything you could say or have said to him in the past. This silent rage where you stare straight ahead, not moving — he has to check to see if you’re even breathing — it’s terrifying. 

It’s like you’re not even in the car with him.

[frownyalfred]

a concept, brought to you by my love of bruce whump + batfam meets the jl fics, and no small amount of irritation that bruce seems to be the only one taking project cadmus completely seriously in jlu:

bruce has to call in the rest of the batfam (dick, tim, cass, and steph - jason hasn’t come back yet which also means no damian) for some battle or catastrophe or something, and the justice league is super excited to meet his ‘associates’, so afterward they’re all kind of jabbering questions at the batkids, but bruce, who is paranoid, traumatized, and hasn’t slept in three days, throws himself between his kids and the league in flat-out terror (bc if the jl could kill him without thinking about it, his babies don’t stand a chance). maybe j’onn is the only one who recognizes why batman is projecting ‘one more step and i’ll rip your throats out with my teeth’ which somehow leads to the revelation that batman is a baseline human and maybe makes the jl consider why ‘we’re the good guys’ is not much of a reassurance for world governments.

(‘i’m scared of what you could do if you lost control bc i know exactly what you’re capable of. imagine what someone without that knowledge would think, and remember that humans are very good at coming up with/planning for worst case scenarios’)

I always think of Bruce seeing Clark or Diana reaching to shake Dick’s hand (Robin Dick, or even freshly Nightwing) and literally throwing himself in front of Dick because sure, Diana broke his arm the first time she shook his hand but that wasn’t her fault, she didn’t realize he wasn’t a meta and Bruce never corrected her. but. she’s about to do the same thing to Dick and no one knows what’s about to happen except Bruce—

[hereforuconnwbb]

Unexpected Halt - CHAPTER SEVEN

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

~paige plays for uconn and azzi plays for stanford~

word count: 10.2k

warning: language, drugs, alcohol

hey yall sorry i kept you guys waiting but here chapter 7 !!! i honestly dk if i like this and if this chapter even makes sense but i js wanted to get something out cs like this is my downfall 🥲 sooooooo um hopefully its ok and hopefully u guys enjoy 😽

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month had passed, and somehow, things between Paige and Azzi had only gotten stronger.

What started as late-night FaceTime calls and Fortnite sessions had turned into something even more effortless. They talked every day, whether through texts, calls, or the occasional voice memo when one of them was too busy to type. They had settled into a rhythm—one that felt natural, easy, and theirs.

Paige had always known she cared about Azzi, but now? It felt deeper. Stronger. More real. It wasn’t just playful teasing and stolen moments anymore—it was falling asleep on the phone together, waking up to good morning texts, and knowing that, no matter what, they were each other’s person.

Azzi felt it too. She had never been the type to open up easily, but with Paige, she didn’t have to try. Being with her felt like second nature, like something she had always been meant to do. And even though they were still apart more often than not, it never felt like distance. Because no matter where they were, they chose each other.

—------------

Paige’s phone buzzed next to her as she sat at her desk, trying to focus on some homework. She glanced at the screen, but the number was unfamiliar. The message that popped up was vague, but something about it made her stomach twist.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s been a while.

Paige frowned, unsure who it could be. She quickly typed back,

Paige: Who is this?

The reply came almost instantly.

Unknown Number: You really don’t recognize me? You used to call me your best friend.

Paige hesitated, her mind racing as she tried to place the voice behind the message. It didn’t feel like a random number, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Paige: I’m not sure. Why are you texting me?

The person didn’t hesitate to respond, their tone increasingly familiar.

Unknown Number: You always said we’d talk again someday. I never wanted things to end like they did.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat, recognition slowly dawning on her. Her breath caught as a name bubbled to the surface of her mind.

Paige: Wait… Lexi?

There was a long pause before the response came, almost as if Lexi had been waiting for Paige to remember.

Lexi: You remember me. I’ve missed you so much. I tried to move on, but it’s been hard.

Paige’s pulse quickened, irritation bubbling up. She hadn’t heard from Lexi in months, not since their messy breakup. Lexi had never been good at letting go, and Paige had known that from the start.

Paige: Lexi, this is not okay. Why are you texting me after all this time? I’ve moved on. You need to stop.

Lexi: Move on? Who are you with now, Paige? You’re still not with that girl, right?

Paige froze. She didn’t want to give Lexi any details, but something about the way she asked made her feel uneasy. She typed back quickly.

Paige: That’s none of your business.

Lexi: Oh, I get it. You think I don’t know what’s going on in your life. You’ve always had a way of pushing people away when they get too close.

Paige’s grip on her phone tightened. The old frustration she felt with Lexi resurfaced, the constant need to control and manipulate every situation.

Paige: Stop trying to make me feel guilty. I’m in a relationship, and I’m happy. Can’t you just leave me alone?

There was a pause, the silence stretching between them. Paige could feel the weight of Lexi’s unspoken response, almost like a threat hanging in the air.

Lexi: You think you’re happy, but you’ll always come back to me, Paige. I know you better than anyone. You can’t just forget me like that.

Paige’s blood ran cold, and she couldn’t stop herself from sending a harsh reply.

Paige: You need to stop. I don’t want you in my life anymore, Lexi.

Before she could put her phone down, a new message popped up, this time more insistent and almost demanding.

Lexi: You’re mine, Paige. You always will be. Don’t pretend like you’re in control. I’m coming for you again.

Paige stared at the words, her heart pounding. Something about the way Lexi spoke sent a chill down her spine. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the feeling of being trapped by her past lingered.

She didn’t respond. The messages kept coming, each one more desperate, more possessive. But Paige knew she had to stop before it escalated further.

With a sigh, she tossed her phone onto her bed, standing up and pacing around her room for a few moments. The anger bubbling in her chest was still fresh, but something else gnawed at her too—a sense of dread. What if Lexi didn’t let this go? What if she started trying to come between her and Azzi?

The door to her room creaked open, and KK and Ice popped their heads inside, both of them giving her knowing smirks. “You good, P?” Ice asked, her voice teasing but with a hint of concern behind it.

Paige sighed again, running a hand through her hair. “No,” she muttered, walking over to her desk and sitting down. She could feel Ice and KK’s eyes on her, already reading the situation. Ice crossed her arms, while KK leaned against the doorframe, both of them waiting for Paige to speak.

“I got a message from Lexi,” Paige said quietly, her voice almost reluctant. She wasn’t used to talking about her past with them, but it was clear they weren’t going to leave until she opened up. “She… she’s been trying to reach me again.” She could feel the frustration rising in her chest as she spoke. “I don’t know how she even got my number. It’s like she’s been waiting for me to fall back into her trap.”

Ice raised an eyebrow. “Lexi? That’s the ex who almost fucked everything up, right?”

Paige nodded, her jaw tightening. “Yeah. She’s the one who—” She stopped herself, realizing she didn’t want to dredge up everything right now. The memories of the toxic relationship, the fights, the manipulation—it felt like opening a door she was trying to keep locked.

KK stepped into the room fully, a little more serious now. “Okay, but what’s going on with her? I thought she was out of your life for good. You’ve been pretty happy lately, with Azzi, right?” Her voice softened as she said Azzi’s name, her tone light but also understanding—especially now that she and Ice had figured out Paige and Azzi had been dating for a while now.

Paige took a deep breath, swallowing her frustration before it bubbled over. “She says she misses me. She wants to get back together, but it’s like… she doesn’t get it. I don’t feel that way anymore. I want to be with Azzi. But Lexi… she’s not just gonna let go. She’s already starting shit, making me feel like I owe her something.”

“You don’t owe her anything,” Ice interjected sharply, her eyes hardening. “I swear, Paige, if this bitch tries to pull you back in, we’ve got your back. You know that, right?”

Paige nodded, grateful for her friends’ support. “I know. But the thing is, Lexi doesn’t care about boundaries. She’s been texting me these creepy, possessive things. Telling me she knows I’m with someone else now, but she’s not letting me go. It’s like she thinks I’m hers.”

KK’s face softened with sympathy. “She’s unhinged,” she said bluntly. “And I know that’s scary, but you don’t have to deal with this alone. You’ve got us, and you’ve got Azzi. Lexi’s not gonna break you down.”

Paige chuckled bitterly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I know. But the way she’s acting… I’m worried she might try something. She’s the type to do something crazy.”

Ice’s eyes narrowed in understanding. “We’ll keep an eye on her for you,” she said. “But Paige, don’t forget—you are the one in control of this. Lexi might have messed with your head before, but you’re not the same person now. You’ve got your life with Azzi. You’ve got your own support system. You don’t have to let her worm her way back in.”

“Yeah,” Paige murmured, her chest tightening with a mix of relief and unease. “I just don’t want to cause problems for Azzi. She’s already been through enough with me, and the last thing I want is for her to get caught up in this mess.”

“I get that,” KK said, her voice softer now. “But Azzi’s not stupid. She’ll have your back. Just make sure you’re not pushing her away when you’re dealing with this. Communication is key.”

Paige nodded, the weight on her chest lessening slightly at her friends’ words. “I know. I just—she doesn’t deserve any of this. Lexi doesn’t get to just show up and ruin everything.”

A tense silence filled the room as Paige tried to steady herself, but Ice and KK didn’t push her further. They stood by her, their expressions supportive, not prying but offering comfort in the way they knew best.

“I’ll keep an eye on things,” Paige continued, her tone firm as she stood up, her mind made up. “If she crosses the line, I’ll shut it down. But I’m not letting her tear down what I have with Azzi. Not this time.”

Ice gave her a single, approving nod. “Good. You’ve got this, Paige. And if Lexi shows up anywhere near you again, you let us know. We’ll take care of it.”

Paige felt a wave of gratitude. No matter what Lexi tried, she wasn’t in this alone anymore. She had Azzi, Ice, and KK. And together, they would make sure that Lexi didn’t stand a chance.

Paige walked over to her phone, scrolling through the messages from Lexi one more time before deleting the entire thread. No more. It was time to shut that door for good.

But in the back of her mind, the unsettling feeling remained. The storm hadn’t passed yet, and Paige knew that things were about to get even more complicated.

—------------

The next day, after a restless night filled with too many thoughts, Paige finally found the time to call Azzi. Her fingers hovered over the phone screen, hesitating for just a second as she tried to decide how to bring it up. She didn’t want to drag Azzi into this mess, but she knew she couldn’t keep it from her. Not when things with Lexi were escalating.

Azzi picked up on the second ring, her voice soft but warm. “Hey, baby,” she greeted, a smile practically audible in her tone. “How’s it going?”

Paige took a deep breath, settling back into her bed as she tried to clear her head. “Hey, Azzi. I need to talk to you about something. Something’s been going on, and I don’t want to keep it from you.”

Azzi’s tone shifted immediately, the concern evident in her voice. “What’s wrong, Paige? You sound serious.”

Paige bit her lip, feeling the weight of the conversation already pressing down on her. “It’s about my ex… Lexi.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Your ex?” Azzi’s voice was cautious, unsure. “You don’t really talk about her much, so I’m guessing she’s not someone you want to talk about.”

Paige nodded, though Azzi couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I haven’t talked to her in a while, but recently, she started reaching out again.” She paused, trying to find the right words to explain it all without making it sound like she was trying to pull away from Azzi. “She’s… been trying to get back into my life. But it’s not just normal texting. It’s… well, it’s obsessive. She’s sending me messages, saying she misses me, saying she wants to get back together.”

Azzi’s voice softened, a note of sympathy slipping through. “That sounds… not great. But I’m guessing it’s more than just texts?”

Paige’s chest tightened as she replied, “Yeah, it is. She’s been sending weird stuff. Like, she knows I’m with someone else now, and she’s making it clear she doesn’t care. It’s like she’s trying to worm her way back in, even though I’ve made it clear I don’t want that.”

Azzi’s heart thudded in her chest. Her instinct was to protect Paige, to wrap her up in the safety of her own arms. She could hear the tension in Paige’s voice, and it made her ache for her. “I’m sorry, Paige. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have someone like that in your life, especially when you’re trying to move forward. But you’ve got me, okay? I’m here for you.”

Paige smiled faintly at the reassurance, but the nagging feeling at the back of her mind didn’t ease. “It’s just… she’s not letting go. And it’s like she doesn’t get the boundaries. I’ve blocked her number, but she somehow keeps getting through. And now she’s just… I don’t know. I’m worried she might do something stupid. She’s the type to make a scene if she doesn’t get what she wants.”

Azzi’s heart clenched at the thought of Paige being stalked or harassed. She wanted to be there for her, but this situation felt out of her control. “Have you told her to stop? Have you told her to stay away?”

“I have,” Paige said, her voice strained. “But it’s like she doesn’t care. She’s not listening. And now… now I’m worried she’s going to try something while I’m out or… or when I’m with you. I won’t let her ruin this, but I’m not sure what to do next.”

Azzi felt a rush of emotion—protectiveness, worry, even anger—and she knew in that moment that she couldn’t let Paige deal with this on her own. “You’re not alone in this, Paige. You’ve already been through enough with her. But I want you to promise me something.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

“Promise me that if she tries anything again, we’ll try to figure it out together. I don’t care who she is or what she wants. I’m not going to let anyone threaten us or what we’ve got.”

Paige’s chest swelled with gratitude at Azzi’s words. “I promise. And I’ll keep you in the loop, always. I don’t want to keep things from you. But I just don’t want to bring this stress into what we have. You mean so much to me, Azzi. I just want us to stay happy.”

Azzi’s heart softened at that, her voice lowering to a tender whisper. “I know, babe. And we will be happy. No one’s going to mess that up. Not Lexi, not anyone.”

Paige could feel the warmth in Azzi’s words, and for the first time that day, she felt like maybe everything would be okay. They’d face whatever came next together, no matter how complicated it got. Paige didn’t want to burden Azzi with the weight of her past, but it felt good to know that Azzi was standing by her side.

“You’re right,” Paige said, her voice steadier now. “I don’t want to let this ruin what we have. Thank you, Azzi. For everything.”

“Always, P,” Azzi replied softly. “Always.”

The call continued with a few more quiet words, both of them reassured, though the unease still lingered. Paige knew the situation with Lexi wasn’t over yet. But with Azzi by her side, it didn’t feel quite as impossible to handle. She just had to make sure that nothing—and no one—would threaten what they had together.

And that meant keeping her ex at bay. No matter the cost.

—------------

Paige had just set her phone down after hanging up with Azzi, the warmth of their conversation still lingering in her chest, when the screen lit up with a new notification. A text. Lexi.

She hesitated for a moment, staring at the name on the screen. Her thumb hovered over the message for several seconds before she finally unlocked her phone and read the text.

Lexi: “I’m still waiting for you to talk to me, Paige. I know you’re mad, but you know this isn’t over. I’m not giving up on us.”

The words hit Paige like a punch in the gut, but her fingers didn’t shake. It was like a familiar ache now, the kind she’d grown numb to over the years.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of irritation and concern flooding her system. It had only been a few hours since she last dealt with Lexi’s relentless messages, and now here she was again, pushing all her buttons.

Paige didn’t want to respond, didn’t want to get sucked back into whatever chaos Lexi was creating. But the text lingered in her mind, the old patterns creeping back in.

A second message popped up almost immediately after, this one more forceful, the text bold with desperation.

Lexi: “I know you’re ignoring me, but you can’t hide forever. You need to talk to me. I miss you, and you know it. Don’t push me away, Paige. Please.”

Paige’s jaw tightened as she read it, every word making her more frustrated. Lexi was pushing her again, testing the limits, as if Paige owed her something. She didn’t. Not anymore.

But as she stared at the messages, her fingers itched to respond. She wanted to tell Lexi exactly what she thought of her, but she knew better. Lexi thrived on that chaos, on the drama. Paige had to shut it down.

With a deep breath, Paige typed out a quick, sharp reply.

Paige: “This has to stop, Lexi. Like I said before, I’m with someone else now, and you need to respect that. We’re done.”

She hit send, staring at the screen as if the words would make everything go away. But the phone buzzed again, almost immediately.

Lexi: “You think I care about that? You’re mine, Paige. You always were. And you know that.”

Paige’s stomach churned. She could feel the anger building up, the frustration of dealing with Lexi’s obsession. She knew she shouldn’t engage, knew it only gave Lexi what she wanted, but it was hard not to. She couldn’t just let this go. Not now.

Paige: “I’m telling you for the last time. Leave me alone, Lexi.”

Paige’s fingers trembled as she hit send, the message final. She locked her phone and tossed it onto the bed, running a hand through her hair as her mind raced. She hated dealing with this. It was exhausting.

But then, just as she was about to turn away, the phone buzzed again, and she couldn’t help herself. She picked it up, the familiar dread creeping up her spine.

Lexi: “You’re not going to just walk away from me, Paige. I won’t let you. You’ll regret this.”

Paige stared at the screen, her heart hammering in her chest. The words weren’t a threat, but they felt like one. And for the first time, she felt that old sense of unease creeping back, like maybe Lexi wasn’t finished yet.

Taking a deep breath, Paige shut the phone off and shoved it into the drawer. She was done. For now. But she knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.

No matter what it took.

—------------

Paige sat in her room, still feeling the lingering tension from Lexi’s messages. She had tried to push it out of her mind, but it kept coming back, haunting her like a shadow. She stared at her phone, but the screen remained off, as if it could hold the chaos at bay. But even without checking her messages again, the weight on her chest didn’t lift.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door.

“Ice? KK?” she called, half-expecting them.

The door creaked open, and Ice leaned in, her eyes scanning Paige’s face as if looking for something. “You good?” she asked, her voice soft but perceptive. “You’ve been kind of off today.”

KK stood behind Ice, her arms crossed, already knowing what was going on. She glanced between them, noticing Paige’s distant expression. “Lexi texted you again, huh?” she said, matter-of-factly.

Paige’s eyes shot to KK’s. She didn’t even need to ask how they knew—she had been avoiding them for the past few hours, and they were always on the lookout for when something was off.

“I’m fine,” Paige said, but even she knew it was a half-lie. She let out a heavy sigh. “It’s just… I don’t know, guys. She won’t leave me alone. It’s driving me crazy.”

Ice and KK exchanged a quick glance before Ice spoke again, her voice sympathetic. “I get it. She’s relentless. But you can’t let her get under your skin like this. She doesn’t deserve your energy.”

“I know,” Paige muttered, rubbing her temples. “I just… I don’t know how to make her stop.” She paused, meeting Ice’s gaze. “It’s like every time I think it’s over, she pulls me back in.”

KK leaned against the doorframe, her expression softening. “It’s not your fault. You’re doing your best to cut ties. You just need to let go.” She crossed her arms, her tone turning teasing as she tried to lighten the mood. “But hey, maybe we should get you out of here, clear your head. You in the mood for a little Ted’s night?”

Paige hesitated for a moment. She really didn’t want to go out, but she knew Ice and KK weren’t going to let her stew in her own thoughts. And honestly, she could use a distraction.

“I mean, I guess I could use a drink,” Paige said, trying to force a smile. “But only if I don’t have to talk about Lexi.”

“You’re not gonna have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” Ice promised, giving Paige a knowing look. “Come on, it’ll be good for you. The team’s going, and I’m sure the usual chaos will help take your mind off things.”

Paige nodded reluctantly. “Alright, fine. I’ll come.”

KK grinned. “That’s the spirit. You need a night to just be around your people and forget the drama for a bit.” She winked at Paige, her usual playful energy filling the space. “And trust me, we’ll make sure Lexi doesn’t cross your mind.”

With that, Paige stood up, following Ice and KK as they headed toward the door.

As they walked down the hall, Paige couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. The weight of Lexi’s messages was still there, but for the first time in a while, it felt like she was taking a step away from it, even if just for the night. Maybe being at Ted’s with the team would help her forget, even if just for a few hours. She could use a break from everything.

“I’ll text Azzi when we get there,” Paige said, though she didn’t feel entirely comfortable keeping her girlfriend in the dark about what was going on. But she also didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily, especially when there wasn’t much to say yet.

KK looked at Paige with a raised eyebrow. “You sure? I mean, you can tell her if you need to.”

Paige sighed, adjusting her hoodie. “Yeah, I’ll just let her know I’m out with you guys. It’s better than overloading her right now. I’ll figure it out.”

Ice and KK exchanged another glance, but they didn’t press the issue. They could tell Paige just wanted to focus on getting her mind off things. As they made their way toward the door to leave, Ice gave Paige a gentle nudge. “Come on, Paige. Let’s just have fun tonight. No stress.”

“Yeah, no stress,” KK added, a smile on her face. “It’s Ted’s, after all.”

And with that, Paige found herself stepping out of the room, allowing herself to enjoy a brief, fleeting moment of normalcy. The night ahead wasn’t going to solve everything, but maybe, just maybe, it would help her breathe a little easier.

—------------

When Paige and the crew arrived at Ted’s, the usual buzz of noise filled the air—laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of music in the background. It was the perfect place for a night of distraction, and Paige was grateful for it. She pushed the thoughts of Lexi aside for now, focusing on the familiar faces and the chaos that always came with a night at Ted’s. But as they walked in, Paige’s eyes immediately scanned the room.

There, sitting at the bar, was Lexi.

Paige’s stomach dropped, and she had to stop herself from turning around and walking right out the door. Lexi was a force—impossible to ignore, and clearly, she hadn’t gotten the memo that Paige needed space. Lexi’s striking features were just as familiar as they had been the first time Paige laid eyes on her, but now they made Paige’s heart race in a way she didn’t want it to. Her dark hair was styled into loose waves, falling perfectly over her shoulders, and she wore a tight-fitting black dress that hugged her body in all the right places. The bold red lipstick she always favored was perfectly applied, standing out against her brown skin. She looked effortlessly beautiful, but to Paige, it was a reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

Lexi’s gaze lifted from her phone as Paige’s eyes met hers. A slow, almost smirking smile spread across her lips, and Paige felt the weight of it. The realization that Lexi had been watching her, waiting for the right moment to strike, was suffocating. She couldn’t just ignore it.

“Shit,” Paige muttered under her breath, though Ice and KK were too busy talking to hear. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Paige made a beeline for the bar, pretending like she hadn’t just seen her ex. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the tightness in her throat. She hadn’t been prepared to see Lexi here, not after everything. It felt like a punch in the gut, like everything she’d worked to move on from was right in front of her again.

As she reached the bar, she tried to keep her voice steady. “Hey, can I get a drink?” she asked the bartender, trying to keep her focus on something, anything other than Lexi.

Lexi, of course, didn’t waste a second. “Paige,” she said smoothly, her voice a bit too sweet, too familiar. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Paige’s jaw tightened, but she kept her face neutral. She didn’t want to give Lexi the satisfaction of seeing how much she was rattled. “I’m fine,” she replied coolly, leaning against the bar, her eyes scanning the room to avoid any direct contact with Lexi. “I’m just here to hang with some friends.”

Lexi raised an eyebrow, her smirk never faltering. “I see that,” she said, glancing over Paige’s shoulder at Ice and KK, who were at the far end of the bar, joking around and ordering drinks. “Are they really who you need to be with right now, though? You know you could be doing so much better.”

Paige clenched her fists. The audacity of this woman never ceased to amaze her. “I’m good,” she said, her voice flat but firm. “And I’m happy with where I am.”

Lexi’s gaze flickered with something Paige couldn’t quite place—a mixture of irritation and amusement, like she knew she had Paige on edge. “We both know that’s not true,” Lexi purred. “You’re still hung up on me, I can see it in your eyes. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Paige was done with this conversation. “No,” she said sharply, her voice lower than before. “I’m not. I’m over you, Lexi. So whatever game you think you’re playing, I’m not interested. I’m with someone else now, and I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my life.”

Lexi leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Someone else? That’s cute. I don’t think they can handle you the way I did, Paige. You always come back to me. You know it’s true.”

Paige’s heart hammered in her chest, the familiar rush of old feelings trying to creep in, but she squashed them down with everything she had. She wasn’t going to let Lexi win. She wasn’t going to let her get to her this time.

“No,” Paige said firmly, standing up straighter. “I’m done with you, Lexi. You’ve had your chance. I’m happy now, and you’re not going to ruin that.”

For a moment, Lexi just stared at her, her expression unreadable. Then, she leaned back and smiled, her voice dripping with something dangerous. “You’ll be back. I know you will.”

Paige had heard those words too many times before. She wasn’t going to let Lexi’s words dictate her anymore. With a deep breath, Paige turned her back on Lexi and walked toward her friends, forcing her pulse to slow.

Ice and KK were already halfway through their drinks, completely unaware of the tension Paige had just experienced.

“You good?” Ice asked, catching the look on Paige’s face as she sat down.

Paige forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s just have a good time tonight, alright?”

KK raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t push the issue. “If you say so.”

And for now, that’s all Paige could do. Keep pretending she was fine, even though Lexi’s presence hung in the air like a storm cloud, waiting for the right moment to break. Paige would have to be ready for whatever came next.

—------------

The tension in the air at Ted’s continued to simmer, but Paige tried to ignore it. She was already in a better mood than she had been when she first walked in—her friends were here, and the loud atmosphere of the bar made it easier to forget for a while. Still, as the night went on, Paige couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that had settled in her chest after the interaction with Lexi. She tried to focus on the conversation she was having with a random acquaintance at the bar, laughing at their jokes, trying to let the noise drown out the thoughts in her head.

However, as she shifted her attention to the person beside her, she didn’t notice Lexi slip closer, waiting for the perfect moment. In the midst of the banter, when Paige’s attention was fully on the stranger beside her, Lexi subtly leaned over and dropped a small white powder into Paige’s drink. Her eyes flickered toward Paige, watching carefully to see if she noticed. Lexi knew that if Paige had been paying attention, she would’ve caught her. But Paige was too distracted.

Once the drink was mixed and the powder dissolved, Lexi stepped back into the crowd, as though nothing had happened. Paige took a sip of her drink, completely unaware of the malicious act unfolding behind the scenes. She continued chatting, the noise of Ted’s creating the perfect cover.

As the minutes passed, Paige’s head started to feel heavier, like the weight of the world was pressing down on her. It started with a slight dizziness, then a deep, overwhelming sense of fatigue. She shook it off, thinking maybe it was just the alcohol or the long day. But soon, it became harder to keep her focus. The room seemed to sway, and she struggled to follow the conversation she was having.

Before she knew it, she felt her stomach churn. Her breath hitched as nausea crept in, and she quickly stood up, clutching her drink with shaky hands. “I need to go to the bathroom,” Paige muttered to Ice and KK, who were still lost in conversation, not noticing how off she had become. They gave her a quick nod, not thinking twice about it.

She stumbled toward the bathroom, hoping to just get a quick breather and let the sickness pass. But before she could even reach the door, she felt a soft hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, you okay?” Lexi’s voice was smooth, and it felt like it came from miles away. Paige’s vision blurred slightly, but she still recognized the familiar voice.

“Yeah… just need to throw up,” Paige mumbled, her voice sounding weaker than she intended. She felt hot, cold, and disoriented all at once. She wanted to push Lexi away, but her body felt like it wasn’t listening to her.

Lexi’s smile was as practiced as ever, and she leaned in closer, her voice low and almost soothing. “I’ll help you,” she said, her hand gently resting on Paige’s back, guiding her toward the bathroom. Paige felt too dizzy to protest and let herself be led.

Inside the bathroom, Paige felt her stomach lurch, and she quickly leaned over the toilet. Her head swam as she emptied her stomach, but all she could focus on was the fact that Lexi was still standing there, far too close. Paige’s mind struggled to keep up, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Lexi said, her voice laced with false sweetness as she rubbed Paige’s back. “Just breathe. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

Paige pushed against the sink, trying to steady herself, but the world around her felt like it was spinning out of control. “I don’t… I don’t feel right,” she muttered, her voice shaking.

Lexi took another step closer, pressing herself against Paige’s side. “I know, sweetie,” she cooed, her hand coming up to gently tuck a strand of Paige’s hair behind her ear. “You’re just a little overwhelmed, that’s all. Just relax. Let me help you.”

Paige wanted to shove her away, but the strength in her limbs felt like it had been drained. She couldn’t think straight. She didn’t know what was happening, only that something wasn’t right.

“Don’t… please,” Paige managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still trying to push Lexi off, but her movements were sluggish. “I… I don’t want to…”

“Shhh,” Lexi murmured, a wicked glint in her eyes that Paige couldn’t quite register. She was too out of it to fight, her body betraying her. Lexi smiled, as if savoring the moment. “Who’s the lucky one, Paige?” she asked, her tone sugary sweet as she stroked Paige’s cheek. “Who do you have now?”

Paige, still disoriented, blinked at Lexi, trying to clear her mind. “I—” she started to say, but her thoughts felt like they were slipping through her fingers.

And then it happened.

“Azzi,” she whispered, unable to stop herself. Her relationship with Azzi had been on her mind all night, and in her vulnerable state, the words slipped out.

Lexi’s smile turned into a smirk, her eyes lighting up with satisfaction. She’d gotten what she wanted. She quickly leaned forward, whispering in Paige’s ear, her words dripping with malice, “Azzi, huh? That’s cute. I think I can make this work.”

Paige barely registered the words, but she knew she was on the edge of passing out. Everything felt like it was slipping away, the world around her darkening.

“Give me your phone, Paige,” Lexi coaxed, her voice low. “I’ll message her for you. Let me help you. Just give me your passcode, and I’ll take care of it for you.”

Paige was so disoriented that she didn’t even question it. She fumbled for her phone, handing it over without thinking. “Just… don’t… don’t hurt her,” Paige muttered, her eyelids fluttering.

Lexi took the phone from Paige’s hand, entering the passcode quickly. “Don’t worry, darling,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of everything.”

As Paige’s vision blurred and her consciousness slipped away, she felt the last shred of awareness leaving her. Lexi’s voice faded into the background as the darkness swallowed her whole.

When Paige passed out, Lexi smiled to herself, the plan already forming in her mind. She was going to make sure this wasn’t the last time Paige would come crawling back to her.

Lexi looked down at the phone in her hands, her fingers brushing across the screen with practiced precision. Paige’s phone, now unlocked and in her possession, gave Lexi everything she needed. Her mind worked quickly, the satisfaction of control creeping up her spine as she navigated to the messages between Paige and Azzi.

She knew how much Azzi meant to Paige. She could use that. If she could plant seeds of doubt, if she could make Azzi question things, the crack in their relationship would widen. Lexi smirked as her fingers hovered over the keyboard, the words forming in her mind.

Paige had been too trusting, and now she would pay the price.

She started typing, knowing that Azzi would believe it was Paige on the other end of the conversation. The situation was too perfect—Paige had already been distant, distracted, and now with the drugged haze still clouding her mind, she wouldn’t notice the difference between the texts and the way she usually spoke.

Paige: “Azzi, I’ve been thinking… I don’t know if I can keep doing this. You’re great and everything, but lately, I just feel like I’m not as into this as I was before. You’ve been so busy, and I’m feeling kind of neglected.”

Lexi sat back, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she hit send. She watched the message go through, knowing that Azzi would receive it and react just as she’d anticipated. She wasn’t done yet. She had a lot more to say.

She quickly typed again.

Paige: “I don’t know if this is going to work. I mean, maybe we should just take a break or something. I’ve been talking to Lexi a lot more since I saw her at the bar tonight, and she’s been a lot more… understanding. She gets me in ways that you don’t, and maybe I need that right now.”

Lexi read the words before sending them, savoring the delicious satisfaction of knowing how Azzi would react to them. It was a slow burn, and Azzi would feel every inch of the distance growing between her and Paige. She would question everything. All Lexi had to do was make her doubt Paige’s feelings.

She waited for a moment, watching the little dots appear on the screen as Azzi typed. Then her phone buzzed with a new message.

Azzi: “What the hell? Paige, what do you mean you’re not ‘into this’ anymore? You know this isn’t like you. We’ve been through so much, and now you’re just going to throw it all away?”

Lexi felt a rush of satisfaction. Azzi was already reacting the way she expected—hurt, confused, defensive. But she wasn’t done yet. She needed Azzi to feel even more unsteady.

Paige: “I just… I don’t know. Things have changed. I feel like you don’t really care anymore. Maybe you just got too busy with your own life to notice.”

Lexi paused before sending the next message, reading it over and ensuring it would hit hard.

Paige: “Honestly, I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s okay when I’m feeling like this. Maybe I just need someone who can actually be there for me, someone who actually gets it. Lexi does.”

She sent it. The reaction was immediate.

Azzi: “What the hell are you talking about? You want someone who ‘gets you’? You’ve been with me this whole time, and you’ve never acted like this before. Don’t you dare tell me you’re going to throw everything we have away for someone else.”

Lexi smiled wickedly as she read Azzi’s message. She knew exactly what to say next. She was planting the seeds of doubt deep in Azzi’s mind, and she wasn’t going to stop until the damage was done.

Paige: “I just can’t do this anymore, Azzi. You’re not the same person I fell for. I think you’ve changed, and maybe I’ve changed too.”

Lexi sat back, waiting for Azzi’s response, fully aware of the anger and frustration that was about to flood the messages. It wouldn’t be long before Azzi started questioning everything, her insecurities flaring up.

The phone buzzed again.

Azzi: “You’re seriously going to sit here and tell me that after everything we’ve been through? After everything we’ve built, you’re just going to throw it away over something that doesn’t even make sense?”

Azzi: “You’re acting like we don’t talk about our issues. You’re acting like I’m some kind of stranger to you. Is that what you really think? That I don’t care? That you don���t care?”

Lexi let out a soft laugh, watching the messages come through. Azzi’s anger was palpable, and the tension was thick in the air, even through the phone. She was good at this—making someone doubt themselves, making them feel like they weren’t enough.

Paige: “Maybe it’s just easier to let it go. Maybe we were just a fling. Maybe I’m just tired of fighting for something that’s not even there anymore.”

The message was a sharp jab, and Lexi knew it would hurt Azzi, even more than the last one. She was playing her part perfectly, pretending to be Paige, feigning frustration and doubt.

Azzi: “Are you seriously this delusional? You’re acting like we don’t have something real here. What the hell happened to you? This isn’t you, Paige. This isn’t what we had.”

Lexi’s fingers danced across the screen one last time, sending a final blow to the conversation.

Paige: “Maybe it never was. Maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t there, and you were too caught up to notice. I don’t know what I want anymore.”

Paige’s phone buzzed with another message, but Lexi didn’t need to see it. She knew she had done enough to get inside Azzi’s head.

Paige wouldn’t even remember this conversation when she woke up, but Azzi would. And that was the part that mattered most.

Lexi smirked as she turned away, her plan already taking shape. The damage was done.

Paige lay on the floor beside her, unconscious, her body slumped against the toilet, her breathing shallow but steady. Lexi smirked at the success of her deception, knowing the damage was already done.

She was so caught up in her victory that she didn’t hear the bathroom door open. The sound of soft footsteps echoed against the tiled floor before a voice startled her.

“Hey, you okay in here?”

Lexi spun around, eyes narrowing, a flash of irritation crossing her face. A random girl stood in the doorway, her hand on the doorknob, looking at Paige’s unconscious form with raised eyebrows. She looked confused and hesitant.

“Is she okay?” the girl asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

“She’s fine,” Lexi replied quickly, attempting to mask the unease in her voice. “She just drank too much, and she’s out cold for a bit. I’m just waiting for her to wake up.”

The girl stared at Lexi for a moment, clearly unconvinced. She glanced at Paige, then back at Lexi, clearly processing something. “Are you sure? She doesn’t look okay.”

Lexi’s grip tightened on Paige’s phone, her fingers brushing across the screen as if she were holding onto the last bit of control. She offered the girl a forced smile. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. I’m her friend. Don’t worry about it.”

The girl looked skeptical but didn’t press further. She gave Paige one last glance, her brow furrowed in concern, before she shrugged and walked past Lexi, disappearing into one of the bathroom stalls. Lexi sighed in relief, but the momentary unease still lingered.

With Paige still unconscious on the floor, Lexi turned her attention back to the phone. She tapped her fingers on the screen before she saw that Azzi had replied to the last message. Her lips curled into a smug smile as she read Azzi’s response.

Azzi: “What do you mean??? Are you seriously telling me that after everything we’ve been through? Are you trying to push me away, Paige?”

Lexi’s fingers moved quickly, her mind working faster than her conscience. She had to keep the illusion up—had to make Azzi feel even more insecure.

Paige: “I don’t know what I want anymore. Maybe I’ve just been lying to myself, thinking that we could be something more than we are.”

She hit send and sat back, waiting to see Azzi’s reaction.

Azzi’s message popped up almost immediately. Lexi could practically hear the frustration and hurt in Azzi’s words as she read them.

Azzi: “Are you seriously doing this right now? I’m not going to sit here and let you talk like this. I don’t care what’s going on with you, but don’t ever make me feel like I don’t matter to you.”

Lexi smiled. She knew exactly how to push Azzi’s buttons. This was just the beginning. She would make sure that when Paige finally woke up, she would have no memory of what had happened—but Azzi? Azzi would be left wondering if she had done something wrong. She would question everything.

But Lexi wasn’t finished yet.

She glanced at Paige’s body on the floor, the sense of control growing more intoxicating by the second. There was still more to come. But for now, she let the phone sit in her hands, knowing Azzi would continue to argue with “Paige.”

She checked the time on her phone, ensuring that she had a solid window of time to execute her next steps before Paige woke up. Then, she turned her attention back to Azzi’s new message.

Azzi: “You can’t just give up on us like this, Paige. I know there’s more to us. You’re not even giving us a chance to fix it. We’ve always been able to talk through our problems before. Don’t push me away like this.”

Lexi’s smirk deepened. This was going perfectly. She was in control now, and no one—least of all Paige—would know what had happened until it was too late.

The stall door creaked open again, and the same girl stepped out, pausing as she saw Paige still slumped against the wall. Her eyes flickered from Paige’s unmoving form to Lexi, still crouched beside her, holding her phone a little too tightly.

“Are you sure she’s good?” the girl asked again, her voice more firm this time.

Lexi gave a tight-lipped smile, barely holding back her irritation. “Yeah. Like I said, she’s fine. Just had too much to drink. I’ve got it under control.”

The girl hesitated for a second, glancing at Paige again before sighing. “Alright…” she muttered, but her tone wasn’t convinced. She shook her head and walked out, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Lexi exhaled, rolling her eyes. “Nosy bitch,” she mumbled under her breath before turning her attention back to Paige, still unconscious.

And then, an idea struck her.

Her fingers tightened around Paige’s phone as she smirked to herself.

Slowly, she leaned in, tilting Paige’s chin up with her fingers before pressing her lips against hers. The kiss was long enough for what she needed—to make it convincing. Then, with one hand still gripping Paige’s phone, she snapped a picture. The dim lighting of the bathroom cast shadows across the screen, but it was clear enough. Paige’s unconscious form, Lexi’s lips pressed against hers.

Perfect.

She opened Azzi’s chat and attached the image, her smirk deepening as she typed.

Paige: Maybe this is what I really wanted all along.

And with that, she hit send.

A few moments passed before the screen lit up with a response.

Azzi: Are you serious right now? What the fuck is this?

Another message followed almost instantly.

Azzi: I don’t even know what to say to you. You really had me thinking we were building something real, but I guess I was just stupid for believing that.

Lexi bit her lip, trying to contain her satisfaction. The damage was done. Paige wouldn’t even have a chance to explain.

And just in time, because Paige was starting to stir.

A low groan escaped her lips as her fingers twitched against the cold tile. Her breathing hitched as she slowly blinked her eyes open, trying to regain her bearings.

It took her a second to process what was happening—where she was, why she felt like the room was spinning. But the second she registered the feeling of lips on hers, her entire body jerked back.

“What the fuck?” she slurred, her voice groggy, her mind still hazy from whatever was in her system. Her hands instinctively shoved against Lexi’s shoulders, pushing her back.

Lexi let out a small laugh, unfazed. “Finally awake, huh?”

Paige’s head was pounding, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog in her brain. “Why the fuck were you kissing me while I was out? Are you crazy?” Her voice was hoarse, but the anger in it was unmistakable. “I’m in a happy relationship right now. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Lexi tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Well… not anymore.”

Paige’s stomach dropped. “What the fuck does that mean?” she demanded, her voice cracking as she saw Lexi still gripping her phone. Her heart pounded as realization hit her. “What did you do?”

Lexi twirled the phone in her fingers, looking far too pleased with herself. “Just helping you out,” she said smoothly.

Paige’s blood ran cold. “Lexi,” she ground out, her voice dangerously low. “What. The fuck. Did you do?”

Lexi’s expression darkened, her possessiveness bleeding through. “I reminded her that she’s not the only one who’s ever had your attention.”

Paige’s hands shook as she reached for her phone, but Lexi yanked it back.

“I fucking swear, give me my phone,” Paige snapped, her chest tightening with panic.

Lexi smirked, but before she could say anything, the bathroom door swung open again.

The same girl from earlier stepped inside, looking around before her eyes landed on the sink. “Shit, I forgot my phone—” She trailed off as she took in the scene again. Paige now conscious, looking frantic. Lexi standing too close, gripping her phone like a lifeline.

The girl’s eyes narrowed, suspicion growing tenfold.

Paige, taking the moment of distraction, lunged for her phone, snatching it out of Lexi’s hands. She stumbled back, gripping it tightly as she immediately went to her messages.

Her stomach sank the second she saw Azzi’s name wasn’t at the top anymore.

Her fingers shook as she searched her name, only to be met with the dreaded You can’t send messages to this number.

Blocked.

“No,” Paige whispered, her breath hitching. “No, no, no, no—”

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, her vision blurring with tears. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

She looked up at Lexi, her expression a mix of fury and devastation. “What the fuck did you do?” she choked out.

Lexi just shrugged. “Guess she didn’t take it too well.”

Paige could barely breathe. This was her worst fucking nightmare. She felt like she was suffocating, the walls of the bathroom closing in on her. She had to fix this. She had to fix this now.

Without another word, she stormed out, gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. She barely even registered Lexi calling after her.

Her legs carried her toward the bar, searching frantically until she spotted KK and Ice still sitting there.

“I wanna leave,” she blurted out, her voice shaky, desperate.

They turned to her instantly, eyes widening as they took in her disheveled appearance.

“Paige, what happened?” Ice asked, concern heavy in her voice.

“I just—” Paige swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady, but the lump in her throat was suffocating. “I just need to go. Please.”

KK and Ice exchanged a look, silently agreeing.

“We’re leaving with you,” KK said firmly, standing up. “Let’s go.”

Paige didn’t argue. She let them guide her out, her mind spinning, her heart breaking.

She had to fix this.

But she had no idea if she even could.

—------------

Azzi sat on her bed, her hands shaking as she stared at her phone screen. The image was burned into her memory: a picture of Paige, her lips pressed against someone else’s, the smirk on the woman’s face who she seemed to figured it being maybe Lexi, telling her everything she needed to know. The words that accompanied the photo from Paige were cutting. Maybe this is what I really wanted all along.

Her heart felt like it was in a vice, tightening with every passing second. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? What had happened to the person she had fallen for, the one who had said sweet things to her during their late night calls and promised they were in this together?

The sting of betrayal was so sharp it almost hurt to breathe. Her eyes blurred with tears, but she wiped them away angrily. She couldn’t let herself break down. Not now. Not because of her.

But the tears came anyway, and before she could stop them, they were falling, warm and steady down her cheeks. Azzi buried her face in her hands, letting out a sob before sniffling and taking a deep breath.

That was when she heard the door creak open.

“Azzi?” Caroline’s voice was soft, cautious. “Are you okay?”

Azzi didn’t even need to look up to know it was Caroline. The way she entered the room, the hesitant steps, the way her presence seemed to fill up the space with a quiet understanding.

Azzi shook her head, but her voice cracked when she spoke. “I… I don’t know.” She looked up at Caroline, her expression pained, and held her phone out. “Look at this.”

Caroline sat next to her, leaning over to glance at the screen. Her eyes went from the messages to the photo, the last few words that had come from Paige’s number.

Caroline’s lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw setting with silent fury as she glanced back at Azzi. “What the fuck is this, Azzi?” she muttered, clearly pissed. “This… this isn’t like her.”

Azzi shook her head. “I don’t know… I don’t know what happened, Car.” She wiped away more tears, her voice thick with emotion. “Why would she send me this? I thought we were fine. She said we were fine. And now, she’s sending me this.”

Caroline’s eyes lingered on the photo again, narrowing slightly as she thought. Something in her expression seemed off, like she wasn’t entirely convinced by the situation. But she didn’t say anything. She just wrapped an arm around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her into a comforting hug.

“I’m so sorry, Azzi,” Caroline whispered, her voice soft, yet laced with frustration. “This is fucking messed up. But you don’t deserve this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Azzi nodded numbly, the comfort of Caroline’s embrace a stark contrast to the cold, angry ache in her chest.

A few moments of silence passed before Caroline pulled away slightly, her tone shifting. “Do you want me to message her? Find out what the hell is going on?”

Azzi shook her head immediately. “No,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears still clinging to her eyes. “I don’t want to hear from her right now. I need space. I don’t even know if I want to talk to her anymore.”

Caroline nodded, her eyes softer now, but still full of concern. “Okay. But if you change your mind, I’ll be here. I’m not going to leave you alone with this, alright?”

Azzi took a shaky breath and nodded again, glancing down at her phone. She was still in shock, still reeling from the words she’d read.

She had blocked Paige’s number. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but she didn’t think it would feel like this. Her fingers hovered over the phone screen again, wondering if she’d made the right choice. She thought she had been protecting herself, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“I just… I don’t know what happened,” Azzi murmured. “I thought we were getting somewhere. But now this. I feel like I don’t even know her anymore, Caroline.”

Caroline gave her a sympathetic smile, but it was laced with anger. “You deserve better than this, Azzi. Don’t forget that. You’ll figure this out, okay?”

Azzi nodded again, trying to hold herself together. But the more she thought about the picture, the more her stomach twisted. The pain of it was still raw.

Caroline squeezed her shoulder before standing up. “If you need anything, let me know. But I think it’s best to give it some time. She’ll have to come to you if she wants to fix this.”

Azzi watched her leave, her mind still spinning. She knew Caroline was right. But right now, all she could do was try to breathe through the hurt and confusion.

She had to step away, but it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

—------------

Paige sat on the edge of her bed, her head still spinning. The room felt too warm, the air too thick. Her body was heavy, her movements sluggish, and there was this tight, sick feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. Ice and KK had come with her to the room, both of them insisting she sit down while they tried to piece together what had happened. But every time she tried to explain, she felt more lost.

“Paige, what the hell happened?” Ice’s voice was soft, but there was an edge to it that made Paige glance up. Ice looked worried—hell, they both did.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Paige muttered, rubbing her temples. Her head was pounding, and everything felt blurry. “I just… I was at the bar, and I was talking to people, you know, trying to relax after everything. I wasn’t paying attention to my drink—then I felt off. Real off. And then I remember feeling dizzy, and the next thing I know, I woke up in the bathroom with Lexi all over me.”

KK narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Lexi? She was there?” She seemed to already know where this was going, but Paige didn’t know how to explain it.

Paige nodded, the room swaying a little as she shifted. “Yeah… And I didn’t even know what was happening. I don’t even know how long I was out for, but when I woke up, she was kissing me.”

Ice’s jaw clenched. “Jesus. So you’re telling me, while you were out of it, Lexi just… took advantage of you?”

Paige swallowed hard, nodding. She could still feel the nauseous weight of it all pressing against her chest. “Yeah. And then she… I don’t even know how to explain it. She went on my phone and pretended to be me. She messaged Azzi. She sent her a picture of us kissing. Kissing, Ice. And then, after I got my phone back, I tried to message Azzi, but…” Paige trailed off, her throat tightening. “She blocked me.”

The words hit her like a ton of bricks, making her stomach churn all over again. Azzi had blocked her. How was she supposed to fix this when Azzi had blocked her out?

KK and Ice exchanged a look. KK spoke first, her voice carefully measured. “Do you want me to message Azzi for you? Tell her what happened? Maybe she’ll understand if you explain.”

Paige shook her head, her eyes filling with frustrated tears. “No… I don’t want to do that.” She wiped them away, feeling embarrassed. “I don’t want to hurt her more. I don’t even know how to explain all of this. Azzi’s probably pissed at me, and I don’t blame her. I… I’ve fucked up so badly, KK.”

Paige’s chest tightened again, the pain of not being able to reach Azzi eating away at her.

“Okay,” KK said, her tone softening. “I get it. If you need space, we can give you that. But you need to talk to her, Paige. She deserves to know what really happened. Just… take a breath, yeah?”

Paige exhaled shakily, nodding. “I know. I know I need to fix it, but I don’t even know where to start. I just…” She stopped herself, glancing down at her hands. “I’m scared, okay? I’m scared she won’t want to hear from me. That she’ll just… write me off for good.”

“You’ve been through a lot, Paige,” Ice said, her voice firm but full of compassion. “But don’t let Lexi screw this up for you. You two are good together. You just have to make it right.”

Paige let out a breath, trying to calm the swirling emotions in her head. “I want to make it right. But I can’t force it, you know? I need to give her space. I have to let her come to me when she’s ready.”

KK nodded, understanding. “Alright. But don’t wait too long, Paige. If you care about her, you need to fight for her. Don’t let Lexi win.”

Paige gave them both a small, tired smile. “I’m not gonna let Lexi win. I just need time to figure this out and for her to figure this out as well. The last thing I want is to lose her for good.”

KK and Ice exchanged one last glance before both of them gave Paige a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You got this,” Ice said quietly, before they both left the room, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts.

But as they left, Paige couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in her gut. She had no idea how to fix this. She had no idea what she was even supposed to do next. But one thing was certain: she wasn’t going to let Lexi’s games destroy everything she had with Azzi.

She just hoped Azzi would still give her the chance to prove it.

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