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rafescvntyclubgf · 2 months ago

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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖: ℍ𝕠𝕝𝕚𝔻𝕒𝕥𝕖

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: dom!rafe, switch!reader, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, age gap (college senior rafe x young professor), icky rafe at the beginning, kissing, unprotected p in v, praise, rough sex, teasing, oral male receiving, orgasm denial, light bdsm

All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! This is a combination of a few similar asks. The premise is that Rafe Cameron is nothing but trouble in class, and when his professor sees that the frat house is auctioning date nights for charity, she can’t help but place her bid.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

Your heels click down the aisle of the large lecture hall, surveying the crowd of students; a packed house, row upon row of upperclassman seated about. Turning on your heels, you look toward the back row, empty per usual, soon to be filled at 5 minutes past the hour was a horde of rowdy frat boys.

The door swings open right on cue, a line of them falling in, their president holding up the back. He smiles at you, giving you a lazy grin as he skims his fingers through his hair.

Rafe didn't just come into class late; he barely paid attention, wrote nothing in his notebook, cracked jokes with his brothers, and took a little naps when the night before had gotten too out of hand.

Then there was the way he looked at you on those specific days—the days when he was feeling rather bold and unashamed. He’d shoot his shot, talking to you like some girl he was hitting on at the bar.

“Can’t focus on shit when you look so pretty, professor y/n.”

“I’m tryin’ to raise my grade, professor y/n. Is participation based on how much I pay attention to you?”

“I get nervous when you say my name, professor y/n. The answer just slipped my mind. I'm sorry. M’paying attention… I swear.”

The smug smile never leaves his face as he speaks. And you’d be a liar if you said his little passes didn't make your heart flutter, but each advance was brushed aside or met with a cold, professional response that only made him more determined.

Students started to filter out, but he stayed back, wanting to “challenge a recent grade.” No one believed him, including his brothers. He pushed them toward the door as they snickered and gossiped about Rafe getting you alone.

Rafe walks toward the front, hands stuffed in his jeans, his t-shirt stretched across his chest and arms, his muscular body straining the fabric. He wipes his hand across his smirk when you look up at him, giving him the attention he was craving you would.

"Great lecture, Professor y/n," he smiles as he shuffles closer.

"Thanks, Mr. Cameron. If only you’d listened,” you quip, your eyes scanning over your attendance sheet, making notes for daily participation.

Rafe chuckles at the joke, moving within arm's reach. You look up toward the door, checking to see if you are alone, butterflies filling your stomach when you notice you are.

“Hey, I listen,” he scoffs, playing along with the game you shouldn't have played in the first place. “Sometimes I just get distracted,” Rafe smiles as his eyes fall to the hem of your pencil skirt, working their way back to your eyes far too slowly.

Your heart starts to race under the weight of his gaze. “Getting too distracted is gonna get you in trouble-”

“I hope so,” he smiles, cutting you off, twisting your words in the process.

You roll your eyes as you reach for your coat and book bag. “Mr. Cameron, I’m not just some girl, and I'm your professor-”

“Oh, I know,” he smiles, butting in again as he steps closer. His eyes fall to your tits as your back arches unintentionally while you slip your arm into your jacket.

“I don't know what game you're playing, but I need to get to my next class if you have nothing to ask me.”

"No games, sweetheart.” Your eyes shoot to him. “Sorry. Damn, m’sorry… Professor y/n,” he corrects himself, dragging out your title for emphasis. “No games,” he assures you as you step past him, walking toward the exit. You turn over your shoulder, Rafe’s blue eyes lifting from your ass to your sharpened gaze. “I am good at games, Professor y/n. If you wanna play sometime-”

“Goodbye, Rafe,” you dismiss him with a cold bite. You hear a few laughs from behind the door you're walking toward, making the heat of embarrassment pool in your cheeks.

You push into the hallway, moving quickly to your next class. The university’s bustling with students, the noise occupying what little space you have left, your mind consumed with thoughts of Rafe and what happened.

You turn the corner, weaving past the line in front of the coffee shop, slowing when you see the neon sign tapped against the wall.

HoliDate - Omega Beta Chi Fraternity Charity Auction

Win a Date with the men of ΩBX to support Charleston Children’s Hospital this Holiday Season

You sit in the back row of the theater, watching each of the frat boys strut out onto the stage one by one.

Rafe Cameron. He steps out onto the stage, dressed in a fitted black suit, making you swoon. He runs his fingers through his hair, his classic backward hat gone. He looks devilishly handsome—quickly flashing a cocky smile at the audience, making the catcalling and applause crescendo. You look around, watching phones glow as people rapidly scan their QR codes, prepping to place bids.

“And next, Senior and Omega Beta Chi President Rafe Cameron, everyone. HoliDate bidding starts at $100…”

The crowd blows past the opening bid in seconds. Your heart pounds as the offers climb: $200, $300, $400. You look down at your phone and type your own: $500.

"$600," the auctioneer calls, someone outbidding before you can even react.

$700. You punch in the number and hold your breath, waiting for someone to counter it again. The auctioneer looks down at his iPad, then to the crowd, counting down. "Sold! To our anonymous bidder!”

You stare at your phone, fingers hovering over the keys as you think of what to do next. You leave your name anonymous, providing your cell phone number instead.

Your phone buzzes in your purse as you walk out to your car. You rummage for it quickly, pulling it out of your bag; looking down at the message from Rafe.

Rafe: Hi, sweetheart

You: Hi!

Rafe: So, what do you want to do tonight? I'm all yours.

Rafe: I’m up for anything.

You: Meet me at eight at 5th and Main. Don't be late ♥️

"Professor y/n?" Rafe calls, a hint of disbelief in his voice as his head turns from left to right, scanning the street as he steps closer.

“Mr. Cameron,” you smile up at him.

“Umm… Are you, uh-”

“Waiting for a cab,” you cut him off. The excitement in his face falls fast. “And you.”

“And me?” Rafe asks. His blue eyes widen on yours as he fights back a sweeping smile. “Well, shit…”

“Is that okay?” You ask.

“You kiddin’ me?” He answers fast as his eyes fall lower, catching a hint of red satin peeking out of your peacoat. “This is perfect,” Rafe softens his tone as he steps closer. “So, where are we goin’?”

“Well, we can take the cab to The Rex,” you offer, mentioning the new restaurant downtown, “or you can come over for dinner and drinks at my house if you’d like.”

He smiles—a blush creeping across his cheek, enough so that he has to look away for a moment to collect himself. “We can go to your place, Miss…” He draws out the word, waiting for you to give him your name. You smile sweetly, stepping a little closer, and you swear you can hear his heartbeat in his chest.

“Y/n.” He echoes your name gently like it's the prettiest thing he’s heard. You look to your left, watching the cab slow-roll to a stop. Rafe rests his hand on your lower back, ushering you to the car before helping you inside.

The ride is short—only a few blocks. You make light conversation with him, surprised with how well it's going considering how he is in class—a very different man than when he’s in front of his brothers, charming even. You rest your hand on his thigh as he tells a joke, making his eyes flicker down. He smiles at the contact before looking back up at you.

“You look different,” he whispers.

“Different good or different bad?” You ask with a slight tip of the head and a breathy laugh that has him resting his hand on top of yours.

“Good," he smiles. “So fuckin’ good.”

“Different, though. How so?” You ask curiously, and he wets his lip, looking down at yours.

“You’re smilin’ at me. You don't usually do that…”

The cab rolls to a stop, and Rafe opens the door, helping you out before walking with you to your downtown apartment.

Rafe’s eyes float around the space as you guide him inside. The house’s decorated for the holidays; just a few things here and there. The table is set for two, with a bottle of champagne on ice.

“Holy shit,” he smiles as he rocks back on his heels slightly, coming to the conclusion that you wanted this more, your house set just in case he’d say ‘yes’. Rafe unbuttons his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders, leaving him in a fitted white button-down. He watches you closely, desperate to see what’s under your peacoat after getting a taste before. You untie the belt, taking your jacket off as well.

Rafe stands across from you—air filling his lungs as he tries to hold tight his usual confidence, failing miserably.

His blue eyes fix on you, wide and unblinking, tracing every line of your red dress, studying you, taking it all into memory. Rafe swallows hard, stumbling slightly as he kicks off one dress shoe, then the other.

You turn around, strolling toward the dining room, grabbing the champagne.

You over your shoulder just like you did this afternoon after class; Rafe’s eyes shift higher—the hunger in his eyes unmistakable.

“Champagne?” You ask, your voice smooth and teasing as you catch him in the act.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words get caught on his tongue. Rafe laughs nervously, raking his hand through his hair, trying to recall your simple question.

“Champagne,” you smile, repeating the word.

“Yeah… Yes. Uhh—please,” he stammers, his voice wavering in a way it hasn’t before. You pour yourself a glass, then Rafe, the two of you, watching as the bubbles sparkle, tumbling over the side. “You look…” Rafe clears his voice, fluttering his lashes as he tries to compose himself.

“Yes?” You ask as you step a little closer, passing him the glass.

“You look stunning, y/n… I mean, you’re always beautiful-” He cut himself off, shaking his head, letting out a breathless laugh. “You’re makin’ me nervous.”

“You have a way of doing that to me, too,” you answer sweetly.

The doorbell rings; the food you ordered arrives just in time. The two of you sit together, discussing life and plans. Liquor flows, loosening the both of you up; Rafe pops a second bottle of bubbly for the two of you.

“Cheers,” he lifts his glass, making you do the same.

“Cheers,” you smile as you click your glass against his, taking a small sip as he moves closer.

“So…”

”So,” you breathe as you look up at him.

“Why me?” He asks as he leans in a little more. Rafe’s warm cologne fills your nose— the heat of his body so close makes your pulse spike.

“Why do you think?” You question, throwing the query back to him. He hesitates and smirks, cheeks flushing again, wanting to say the right thing.

"’Cause you wanted to see me outside of class?" He asks, his voice cracking slightly under the pressure.

“Mhmm… I wanted to see if you were the Rafe Cameron everyone sees in class or if that was just some act you were putting on for everyone.”

His brows pinch together, confusion painted over his pretty face. “M’not that bad,” he mumbles against the rim of his glass as the corners of his lips curl into a slight smile.

“I beg to differ, Mr. Cameron.”

He cocks his eyebrow as you get back to the basics, using his last name instead of his first. “Why else am I here, Professor y/n?” He asks, his voice hoarse and hungry as he moves even closer.

“Well, I think you need to learn a lesson…”

Rafe swallows hard, his face mere inches from you as his rough hand trails up your bare thigh, disappearing slightly under the satin. "What kind of lesson?" He whispers needily as his eyes fall slightly, locking on your lips again.

You take your finger, hook it under his chin, guiding his gaze to yours. “The kind of lesson where you learn respect,” you smile as your hand rests on his upper thigh, moving higher and higher. He takes a little breath, letting out a soft groan. “Boundaries,” you whisper as your fingers trace around his rock-hard cock, strained against the zipper. “And discipline,” you pull your hand away with a smile. Rafe expels the breath he was holding, his eyes softening in desperation.

”Please,” he mumbles as you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth and cheek, leaning into his ear as he wraps his arms around you, needing you closer.

Your teeth scratch against the shell of his ear as your hands roam his broad chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat and quick breathing under your palm. “What do you want, Mr. Cameron-”

“You,” he answers hastily. “I want you, Professor y/n.”

“Good boy.”

You step off the couch and walk toward your bedroom, smiling as he follows you close. Rafe steps toward you, chest pressed against your back, tucking himself into your neck as his hands grab your hips. You tilt your head to the side, giving him better access to your skin. He releases a shaky breath, not wanting to kiss you without permission, hoping to get what he needs and fast.

You can tell by his hold and how he carries himself that he isn’t used to giving over control. But, Rafe Cameron wants nothing but to get back in your good graces…

You wrap your fingers around the red satin bow around your waist, tugging it loose. Letting it slip through your fingers, as you turn around, looking up at him.

His gaze falls to your hands, seeing the ribbon. “You look nervous, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice a soft purr, pulling his focus back to your eyes as you toss it to the bed.

"No, Professor. I—” his words trail away as he hears the pull of your zipper, the satin material falling to a puddle at your feet, leaving you in nothing but red lace.

“You just what?” You ask as you step closer, fingering the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one by one.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” he mumbles.

You smile as you pull his shirt off his broad shoulders, working on his pants next. “Flattery won't get you out of trouble, Mr. Cameron."

He shakes his head, eyes rolling back in his head as he watches you lower yourself to your knees, grabbing his dress slack and pulling them off. “I’m not tryin’ to get out of trouble. I swear—I,” he groans as you wrap your fingers around his hard cock through his boxers, making his abs flex. “I just can’t stop looking at you,” he breathes, lips parting as your mouth wraps around his thick tip, wetting the fabric. He cups the back of your head, his eyes shutting heavily. “I'll be good. I'll be whatever you want,” he pleads, his voice raw and hoarse.

You wrap your fingers around the band of his boxers, looking up at him with a smile. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

“Yes. Shit—Yes, I’ll be so fuckin’ good. Alright? I promise. Just keep going.”

His breath hitches as you pull down his boxers. You let out a breathy sigh as you see his cock; long and thick, curved slightly, tip pulsing and wet with precum.

You wrap your fingers around the base of his length, making him bite his bottom lip. He watches your every movement, mesmerized as you lean in, tongue swirling and flicking across his tip, making goosebumps spread across his tanned, toned skin.

“Bed,” you smile. Rafe moves quickly, his breathing heavy as he shifts onto your bed. “Grab the rails.” Rafe lifts his arms above his head, gripping the metal tightly, giving you complete control. He continues to study you, the deliberate sway of your hips driving him mad. Grabbing the ribbon, you crawl on top of him, resting your warm, wet pussy on top of his dick, grinding nice and slow. You lean forward, wrapping the soft satin around his wrists, tying it into a pretty little bow.

"You're enjoying this a little too much, Professor," he huffs through a wide smile.

“I could say the same about you.” You lean down for a kiss, hovering just above his lips. Rafe chases your mouth as you pull away, denying him that.

"Look, I get it. You're trying to teach me somethin’, and I deserve it-”

”But what?" You ask in a taunting tone.

"But you're killin’ me," he blurts, tugging against the ribbon, making his big biceps flex. “I’m not used to this? I'm used to bein’ in control.”

Your lips quirk into a smirk. “Oh, I noticed,” you smile as you trace your finger down his chest, through his abs, cutting along his v-lines before teasing his cock, watching him twitch.

"You think you've got me all figured out. Don’t you?”

“I do…” You smile as your nails scratch down his muscular thighs.

"I've been good...”

“We just started,” you whisper against his tip before wrapping your lips around him. Rafe throws his head back into the pillow, pulling against the restraints as you let him slide into your mouth, taking him to the back of your throat.

“Yes, fuckkk…” He groans. “That’s it, baby.”

Rafe looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, watching his thick dick slide between your slick, swollen lips. You moan around his girth, watching the way his eyes roll back at the feeling of the vibrations.

You wrap your hand around the base of his cock again, licking a few fat stripes up the bottom of his shaft.

“So fuckin’ good,” he groans, fighting to keep his eyes open as you throat his cock again.

His big hands ball into fists as you start jerking his dick as well, sucking on his tip, making him gasp, his muscles coiling tight.

“Shit. Shit. Shittt,” he grumbles. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck. I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth. Hey—” He huffs as you pull off his cock with a wet pop, looking down at him with a wicked smile. “What the fuck?” He pants, his face twisted in frustration.

“What?” You ask dumbly.

His cock pulses—incredibly hard, red and swollen; Rafe, just seconds away from cumming down your throat. "You want to teach me a lesson? Fuckin’ fine. But let's stop pretendin’ this is just about that. Aight? You need me,” he grunts. “$700 for a lesson, bullshit. You want me to take care of you. Let me fuckin’ go.”

“Or what?”

"What are you teachin’ me a lesson for anyways? It’s not my fuckin’ fault. Alright? It’s yours… It’s the only way I can get your attention. You’ve been drivin’ me crazy all fuckin’ semester," he huffs, his voice low and rough. "Every time I piss you off, I get your attention; every time I come in late, your eyes are on me. And when I don’t pay attention, you call me out by name—I can't stop thinkin’ about you. Ain’t that what you want, Professor y/n. Fuckin’ sue me for wanting your attention.”

“There are other ways to get my attention, Rafe,” you whisper through a soft smile.

“Well, it got me here, didn’t it,” he counters. “I think it's my time to take charge." Rafe looks up, seeing the end of the red bow, quickly catching it between his teeth, tugging at it fast, making your heart race as he yanks himself the rest of the way out. He rolls you to your back, lips crashing against yours for the first time in a deep, passionate kiss.

Rafe crushes you under his big body, taking complete control. Your hands reach around him, gripping his big shoulders. He deepens the kiss, fingers digging into your skin.

He pulls back slightly, licking his lips in anticipation, rubbing his cockfat head around your aching hole before pushing inside. You moan in pleasure— the both of you watching as your wet pussy pulls him in.

You throw your head back on the pillow, body reeling, pleasure coursing through your veins at how deliciously he fills you up. You grab his big biceps as he picks up the pace, nails driving into his skin.

“So fuckin’ tight…” He groans. “God, you’re wet.”

Rafe cups the back of your head, steering you to look at the space between the two of you, watching his thick cock pound into you fast—your arousal slicked and glistened between rough thrusts.

Your lips brush against his as you claw at his back, pulling him closer, making him fuck you even deeper than before as your body tightens around him.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks, raspy and thick.

“Yes. Fuck,” you whimper.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuckin stop, Professor y/n. Good news for you, I wanna fill up this pretty pussy.”

“Don’t stop. Please,” you cry.

He picks up the rhythm, thrusting into you faster and harder.

"Then you better come for me. Yeah? Show me what a good girl you can be,” he growls in your ear, taking back the power he lost. “Think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

His name leaves your lips in a broken sob as you cum around his cock; toes curling, back arching, tits pressing into his muscular chest. Rafe’s hips stutter, filling you to the brim as he continues to pound into your warm, wet cunt.

He nuzzles into you, kissing along your neck as you come down from your high together.

Rafe draws a deep breath as he pulls back, claiming your lips in a tender kiss. "Did you learn anything?" You giggle between breathless kisses, making him smile against your lip.

"No… Didn’t learn shit," he mutters. “Good thing we’re just gettin’ started.

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fangdokja · 13 days ago

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In a world where no one cares, he’s the one who notices you… and that’s frightening.

❤︎ Synopsis. A twisted game of cat and mouse unfolds where a girl is hunted by a predator who revels in her fear; until another unexpected force enters her life, threatening to shatter his control—and everything he’s built around her. In his world, escape isn’t just impossible; it’s forbidden.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! College! Bully x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Torn Between Us - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 7,396

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, social isolation, bullying

♡ A/N. This is part of a request, but I have to divide the work into probably 3 parts or more. The request part isn't fully fulfilled yet (hence the lack of proof of request). And, just like my other works, this serves as an intro chapter before the more explicit yandere-centric content. You know me. Gotta build up the tension or set the atmosphere first. The formatting and plot development style here is similar to the Scaramouche "Lover or Captor?" story. Fragmented and non-linear a bit compared to most of my writing. Kinda spoilers, but that tells you a bit on why the story is like this.

He watches you, always. You feel his eyes long before you catch his face in the crowd, their weight pressing against your back, your shoulders, your neck, until the hairs there stand on end and your stomach knots itself into a mess of nausea and dread. It isn’t paranoia. It isn’t your mind playing cruel tricks. No, he is always watching.

He makes no effort to hide it. Why would he? You’re not his equal; you’re his prey. A mouse scrabbling through the shadows, hoping the hunter won’t see you scurrying between cracks, hoping the cat will grow bored. But he doesn’t grow bored. Not with you.

He is the center of the universe here, on this sprawling, ivy-covered campus. Everyone knows him, fears him, reveres him. Professors bow beneath his arrogant charm, students stumble over their words to impress him, even the ones who whisper about his temper lower their voices to a terrified hush when his name is spoken aloud. He walks these hallways like a king surveying his kingdom, a smug glint in his dark eyes that speaks of entitlement, of invincibility.

And yet, it is you he sees. You he hunts.

It doesn’t matter how small you make yourself. He’s always there: a towering figure, a shadow in your periphery, a cruel smirk that promises nothing good. There’s no corner of this campus you can run to, no hiding place where you can escape the sound of his boots—those heavy, deliberate footsteps echoing in the cavernous library, the quiet art studio, the desolate courtyard at dusk.

You don’t understand it. Why you? You are nothing here, a speck in a sea of better, brighter, bolder people. You’re not popular or pretty or smart enough to draw his attention. You’re not rich, like the trust fund kids he drinks with at off-campus parties. You’re not bold, like the girls who hang off his arm in the hallways, laughing too loud at jokes he doesn’t even bother to finish. You’re not even lucky enough to blend in. No. You’re just there. A loser. A target. A trembling little thing caught beneath his thumb.

He knows it, too. He sees it in the way you duck your head when his voice rises behind you, the way you stutter when he corners you in the cafeteria, in class, in the lonely stairwell where no one can hear the venom in his whispers. He thrives on it, on the way you flinch from him, on the tears that well in your eyes when his fingers curl too tightly around your wrist. His laughter, soft and derisive, sends shivers skittering across your skin.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” he sneers, looming over you, his shadow swallowing the flickering glow of the stairwell light. “The kind of girl no one would notice if you disappeared. No friends, no boyfriend, nothing. Makes it so easy to…” He pauses, tilting his head as if considering his words carefully, then leans in close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek. “…take what I want.”

You can’t speak. Your throat tightens around the lump of panic lodged there. He chuckles when you don’t respond, his hand sliding from your wrist to your jaw, forcing your gaze upward. His grip is firm, his thumb brushing the soft curve of your cheek, deceptively gentle.

“I mean, who would care?” he murmurs, his voice low, silky, dangerous. “Who would notice if you didn’t show up to class tomorrow? If you just… disappeared one night? No one’s looking for you, sweetheart. No one cares.”

He grins as he says it, sharp teeth bared like a predator savoring the fear in his prey’s eyes. His other hand reaches out, plucking a loose thread from the sleeve of your sweater. He twirls it between his fingers, his expression unreadable, almost distracted.

“But I care,” he continues, his tone softening into something almost tender. “I notice. Every time you try to avoid me, every time you run and hide like a scared little kitten, I notice. And it drives me crazy.” His grip tightens on your jaw, his thumb pressing harder until the edges of your vision blur with tears. “Don’t you get it yet? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And you’ll never get away from me.”

The tears spill over, hot and silent, but he only smiles, wiping them away with the pad of his thumb as though he’s doing you some kind of kindness.

“Good girl,” he whispers, almost sweetly. “Now, let’s try this again. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

His command is impossible to disobey. You can’t run. You can’t fight. All you can do is look into those dark, unyielding eyes and wonder if this—this suffocating torment, this inescapable hell—is all your life will ever be.

────────────

The day you stepped onto campus, wide-eyed and clutching your second-hand books, was the moment everything began to unravel. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. College was supposed to be your chance at reinvention—an escape from the relentless mediocrity of your hometown and the suffocating monotony of high school. But reinvention had never been an option, had it? Not when he decided you were his.

You first noticed him during orientation week. He wasn’t like the others. While the other upperclassmen handed out flyers for clubs and fraternities, wearing easy smiles and calling you “fresh meat” in jest, he lingered on the edges of the crowd like a wolf circling its prey. His eyes found you in the chaos, and in that moment, you felt something ancient stir—a primal, bone-deep warning to run.

But you didn’t run.

You stayed, rooted in place as his gaze burned through you. His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. It wasn’t warmth or welcome. It was possession.

———

By the second week of classes, he’d learned your schedule. You weren’t sure how—he wasn’t even in the same program as you, yet there he was, leaning against the wall outside your early morning lecture.

“Freshman,” he’d said, blocking your path. His voice was a low rumble, and you hated how it made your stomach twist. “You’re in my seat.”

You’d stammered something incoherent, clutching your notebook like a shield.

“In there,” he clarified, gesturing lazily toward the lecture hall. “Third row, second seat from the left. That’s mine. Don’t sit there again.”

It wasn’t a request.

———

He began to haunt your life.

You’d hear the low thud of his boots echoing behind you in the halls. His shadow seemed to stretch impossibly long, a dark stain trailing your every step. You’d catch him in the library, standing at the end of the aisle you’d chosen, his head tilted as if he were appraising you. The first time you’d thought it was a coincidence. The fifth time, you knew better.

He’d make himself known in subtle, insidious ways. Your hot choco cup would vanish from the table while you weren’t looking, only to reappear minutes later, the lid slightly ajar and the contents ice-cold. Your dorm door, once a sanctuary, became a battleground. Books you swore you’d left locked away would be sprawled open on your desk, pages dog-eared in ways you never would have done.

“You’re paranoid,” your roommate had laughed when you tried to explain. “Maybe you’re just tired.”

But you weren’t tired. Not yet.

———

It escalated.

The first time he left bruises, it was almost clinical. A firm grip around your wrist as he pulled you into the shadows between two buildings, his body trapping yours.

“Don’t ignore me,” he’d said, his breath hot against your ear. His tone was calm, but his grip tightened until you whimpered. He released you with a satisfied hum, the imprint of his fingers blooming purple on your skin. “Good girl,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over the mark before disappearing into the night.

You stared at the bruise for hours after, your stomach churning. You told yourself you’d go to campus security, that you’d report him, but you never did. You knew better. He was a senior, a campus legend. People liked him. Feared him.

Who would believe you?

———

The rumors started soon after.

“You hooked up with him?” a girl in your class whispered, her voice dripping with mockery. “Didn’t peg you for the type.”

When you’d asked her what she meant, she just smirked.

“You’ll see,” she said.

And you did.

Someone—he—had slipped a note into your bag. It was a scrawled love confession in your handwriting, complete with embarrassing details that only you could have written. It was passed around, dissected, and laughed at until you couldn’t walk into a room without hearing snickers.

You confronted him in the quad, your voice trembling with fury.

“Why?” you demanded, your hands shaking as you held up the note.

He looked amused, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’ve got nice penmanship,” he said, plucking the paper from your hands and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “I might keep this.”

———

You tried to avoid him after that. You changed your route to class, skipped meals in the dining hall, stopped going to parties. It didn’t matter. He always found you.

“I didn’t think you were a quitter,” he said one night, cornering you outside the library. His broad frame blocked the lamplight, casting his face in shadow.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just leave me alone.”

His laugh was low and dangerous, curling around you like smoke.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, stepping closer until you could smell the faint hint of cigarettes and leather. “You think you get to decide when this ends?”

His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch was deceptively gentle, but it left a shiver in its wake.

“This is just the beginning,” he said, his voice a promise and a threat.

────────────

You’d never expected anyone to step in for you.

Your existence had been shaped by silence, by the quiet endurance of pain, by the dull weight of dread you carried every moment he was near. You’d never cried—not once—because crying would have meant accepting it, acknowledging how small and helpless you truly were. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not him, not anyone.

And then she came into your life.

Domo was everything you weren’t: confident, poised, a force of nature with a voice that carried across crowded lecture halls. She walked like she owned the ground beneath her feet, her gaze sharp enough to cut. A 4th-year academic powerhouse, she had no patience for weakness, no tolerance for injustice, and no problem putting someone in their place.

But she didn’t pity you. That was what surprised you most.

———

The first time Domo spoke to you, it wasn’t out of kindness or curiosity. It was boredom.

You were hunched over in the corner of the library, surrounded by loose papers and coffee-stained textbooks, scribbling notes with a pen that looked one click away from breaking. She wasn’t even there for you; she was looking for an empty spot, carrying her usual mountain of books. But her eyes fell on you, this pitiful figure with dark circles under your eyes and a haunted look that even the dim library lights couldn’t hide.

“You’re in my spot,” she said flatly, arms crossed over her chest.

You blinked up at her like you’d forgotten other people existed. For a moment, you thought she might be talking to someone else, but there was no one behind you.

“I didn’t know this was reserved,” you muttered, pushing your things into a haphazard pile to make room.

“It’s not.” She set her books down anyway, sliding into the seat across from you without asking. “But you look like you’ve been sitting there for a decade. Don’t you have a dorm or something?”

Your instinct was to shrink into yourself, to avoid answering, but something about her presence was overwhelming, like trying to look away from the sun.

“I… don’t really like my dorm,” you admitted.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment, sharp and appraising, before she snorted softly. “Figures.”

And just like that, you became her pet project.

———

At first, it was transactional.

Domo wasn’t someone who did things without purpose, and you were no exception. She dragged you into her whirlwind of a life—helping her with club activities, carrying books, sitting with her during committee meetings where you barely understood a word being said. She was bossy, sharp-tongued, and unapologetically demanding, but she never once treated you like you were less than her.

“Well?” she said one day, shoving a stack of papers in your direction. “You’ve been sitting there doing nothing. Read these and tell me if they’re garbage.”

You stared at the printouts, confused. “Why me?”

“Because you look like someone who’s seen too much shit to care about sugarcoating anything,” she replied, already moving on to the next task on her endless list.

She wasn’t wrong. You skimmed the articles, found half a dozen mistakes, and when you told her as much, she didn’t get offended. Instead, she grinned.

“See? Knew you’d be useful for something.”

———

Somewhere along the way, it changed.

She started asking questions, prying into the corners of your mind no one else had ever cared to explore.

“So, what’s with the obsession with serial killers?” she asked one day, raising an eyebrow as you absentmindedly rattled off facts about a particularly gruesome case.

You blinked, unsure how to answer. Most people avoided you when you started talking about these things.

“I guess they’re… interesting,” you mumbled. “People don’t usually see it coming. The violence, I mean. It’s always hidden under something ordinary.”

She stared at you for a moment, then snorted.

“You’re a freak,” she said, shaking her head. “But at least you’re honest about it.”

———

Then, she started noticing things about you no one else bothered to see.

You had a habit of tugging at your sleeves when you were anxious, your fingers worrying the fabric until it stretched. You mumbled when you spoke, as though every word was an apology for taking up space. You avoided eye contact like it might burn you.

“You’re like a sad little kitten,” she said one afternoon, handing you a cup of tea she’d picked up from the café on campus.

You blinked at her, unsure whether to be offended or grateful. “I’m not a kitten.”

“Oh, you are. Wet, bedraggled, and hissing at anyone who comes too close.” She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “But you’re my kitten now, so get used to it.”

It should have been patronizing, but coming from her, it wasn’t.

———

She became your tether.

Domo didn’t care what people whispered about you—or about her for taking you under her wing. She treated you like a stray cat she’d decided to adopt, alternating between bossy commands and begrudging affection.

“Drink this,” she ordered one evening, shoving a steaming cup of tea into your hands after a late-night meeting. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

When you hesitated, she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“It’s not poisoned, you idiot. Just drink it.”

You obeyed, and for the first time in months, you felt something close to warmth.

———

Despite her bluntness, Domo had a softness to her—buried beneath her no-nonsense exterior and razor-sharp wit. She noticed when you skipped meals and made sure you ate. She dragged you to the clinic when you came down with a fever, muttering complaints the entire way but never letting you go.

She didn’t ask questions she knew you wouldn’t answer. When you deflected, she let it go. When you got that faraway look, the one that came with memories you never spoke about, she distracted you with stories about her own life—petty grievances, triumphs, and jokes that didn’t always land but made you smile anyway.

———

And, Domo had a way of seeing through the cracks you thought you’d hidden.

“You never cry,” she said one day, out of the blue.

The two of you were sitting in her dorm, surrounded by empty takeout containers and half-finished assignments.

“What?”

“You don’t cry. Not even when he’s… you know.” She waved her hand vaguely, as though referring to the mess that was your life didn’t deserve the full weight of words. “Most people would have broken down by now. But you just… keep going.”

You shrugged, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “Crying doesn’t change anything.”

“No,” she agreed. “But it makes you human.”

The way she said it made you feel like she thought you were something more—or less—than human, and the thought left a strange, hollow ache in your chest.

———

But he noticed.

Of course, he noticed.

It didn’t matter that you tried to keep your distance, to avoid drawing his attention whenever Domo was around. He always found a way to watch, to see, to know.

And he hated her.

The first time he confronted you about her, it was subtle—a passing remark that sent a chill down your spine.

“Seems like you’ve made a new friend,” he said, his voice low and quiet, his eyes fixed on yours. “She’s… bold. Thinks she can handle anything, doesn’t she?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t dare.

He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“Do you think she’ll still want to play hero when she realizes what you’re really like?”

———

The tension escalated quickly.

He began showing up more often, lurking at the edges of your conversations with her, his presence an unspoken threat. He watched her with a quiet, simmering rage, his jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Domo noticed, of course. She always noticed.

“What’s his problem?” she muttered one day after he’d passed by, his shoulder deliberately bumping yours hard enough to make you stumble.

“Just ignore him,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “He’s… like that with everyone.”

She frowned, her sharp eyes narrowing.

“No, he’s not. He’s like that with you.”

She started keeping you closer after that, her protective instincts kicking in. She walked you to class, sat beside you in the cafeteria, and even started inviting you to her study sessions.

“It’s not charity,” she insisted when you tried to protest. “You’re my friend now. That means I take care of you, whether you like it or not.”

———

But to him, it was an unforgivable betrayal.

You belonged to him.

He’d spent years cultivating your isolation, feeding on your fear, relishing the way you wilted under his control. And now she was undoing all of it.

She had to go.

He didn’t care how.

He’d make sure you knew—when it happened, when she fell—it would be your fault.

────────────

He’s smiling at her, but inside, his mind is a roiling storm.

On the surface, he’s the picture of charm—leaning casually against the lecture hall doorway, an easy smirk playing on his lips. He’s perfected this mask over years of navigating people, manipulating them, bending them to his will. No one suspects anything; they never do. To the world, he’s just another confident senior, a campus favorite with sharp wit and an even sharper tongue.

But beneath that polished exterior, he’s unraveling.

His eyes track your every movement as you laugh at something Domo says, the sound soft and fleeting, like a bird taking flight. It’s rare for you to laugh, and he knows it better than anyone. He’s spent countless nights pushing you to the edge, watching you crumble under the weight of his words and actions, waiting for that breaking point that never came. You didn’t laugh with him. You didn’t smile. And yet here you are—grinning like a fool for someone else.

His stomach twists, a sickening cocktail of rage and possessiveness.

You're mine.

He tightens his grip on the strap of his backpack, knuckles going white. It’s a small movement, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough to ground him. If anyone notices, they don’t say anything. Why would they? He’s untouchable here, a golden boy with an untarnished reputation. He plays the part so well, no one would believe for a second that he’s capable of the thoughts running through his mind.

———

When he thinks about Domo, all he sees is an obstacle.

It’s not her kindness that bothers him; he doesn’t believe in kindness, not really. People like her are all the same—calculating, self-serving. She took you under her wing because it made her feel good about herself, because it fit her image of being the campus saint. He can see through her act just as clearly as he sees through yours.

But what really sets his teeth on edge is the way you look at her.

You don’t flinch when she touches your shoulder or leans in close to whisper something in your ear. You don’t avert your gaze when she meets your eyes, don’t shrink into yourself the way you do with him. With her, you’re soft. Open. Like she’s peeled back a layer of you that he’s been trying to reach for years.

The thought of her taking what’s his is unbearable.

———

Later, in the privacy of his dorm, he lets the mask slip.

His movements are sharp and deliberate as he paces the room, the walls seeming to close in around him. He can still see the way your eyes lit up when Domo called you her “little project,” the way you leaned into her presence like she was your savior.

A low growl escapes his throat.

“Pathetic,” he mutters under his breath, though the word is more for himself than for you. How had he let it get this far? He’s always been in control, always known exactly how to keep you where he wants you—on the edge of fear and desperation, dangling by a thread that only he can cut.

And yet, somehow, she’s slipped into your world, polluting it with her self-righteousness and moral superiority.

You were supposed to need him. Only him.

———

He sits down at his desk, pulling out the notebook where he keeps everything he knows about you. It’s a habit he developed long before he ever laid a hand on you—meticulous, methodical, obsessive.

Flipping through the pages, he lands on a note he jotted down months ago:

“She doesn’t cry, even when she’s at her limit. Interesting.”

He traces the words with his finger, his lips curling into a bitter smile. It’s true; you’ve never cried for him. You’ve begged, pleaded, even screamed, but never once have you broken down completely. It’s one of the things that drew him to you in the first place—your defiance, your refusal to give him the satisfaction.

But now he wonders if that strength wasn’t meant for him at all.

———

The next time he sees you, he doesn’t let the anger show.

Instead, he watches from a distance, his eyes narrowing as Domo loops an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward the library. You look so small next to her, so fragile. It’s almost laughable, the way she acts like she’s protecting you, when she has no idea what you’re really up against.

He tilts his head, considering his options. It would be easy to destroy her—to spread a rumor, plant some incriminating evidence, make her life a living hell. But that would be too quick, too obvious. No, he wants her to suffer slowly, to watch her crumble under the weight of her own self-righteousness.

And when she finally falls, when she’s out of the picture for good, he’ll be there to pick up your broken pieces.

———

For now, he plays the long game.

“Hey,” he calls out as he approaches the two of you, his voice warm and inviting.

You stiffen immediately, your body tensing like a rabbit caught in a trap. But Domo, cold as ever, gives him a curt nod.

“What do you want?” she asks, her tone as sharp as her glare.

He flashes her a disarming smile, the kind that makes people forget he’s capable of anything darker. “Just checking in on my favorite underclassman.” His eyes flicker to you, lingering just a moment too long. “You’ve been keeping out of trouble, right?”

Your lips press into a thin line, but you don’t respond.

Domo steps between you, her posture protective. “She’s fine. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He chuckles, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m just being friendly.”

But as he walks away, his mind is already racing, plotting his next move. Because no matter what it takes, he’ll remind you exactly who you belong to.

────────────

He watches. Always watches.

You wouldn’t know it by the easy smirk he wears in public, the charm dripping from his voice as he commands attention from everyone around him. People gravitate toward him, and why wouldn’t they? He’s magnetic—handsome in a way that feels unfair, his broad shoulders and powerful build exuding a presence that’s impossible to ignore. His laugh is rich, his confidence effortless, and his words just sharp enough to cut without leaving scars.

But under all that charm, beneath the surface of his calculated persona, there’s something festering.

Rage.

It coils tight in his chest, a burning knot of jealousy that twists every time he sees you with her. Domo. That pretentious, snobby fucking bitch who thought she could waltz into his territory and take what was his.

She treats you like a project, like some pathetic stray she’s decided to fix, and it makes his blood boil. He sees the way her hand lingers on your shoulder, the way she talks to you with that infuriating mix of condescension and care. The way you laugh at her jokes—soft and hesitant, but real.

You never laugh like that with him.

No one else sees the cracks in his facade. His grin doesn’t falter when you walk past him without looking, your head bowed, Domo by your side. He doesn’t flinch when she shoots him a glare, daring him to make a move.

But inside? Inside, he’s seething.

———

It starts small.

He overhears Domo assigning you to cover an event for her precious journalism committee. The task doesn’t seem like much—just snapping photos and taking notes—but it’s enough to keep you out of his sight for hours. Hours where she’ll have you all to herself, feeding you that garbage about standing up for yourself and being strong.

The next day, the event is mysteriously canceled. Something about a sudden power outage in the building.

He watches from a distance as Domo storms around campus, her frustration palpable. You trail after her like a shadow, apologizing for something that isn’t your fault.

Good. You should feel small. Helpless.

———

The next time, he’s more direct.

“Why do you hang out with her?” he asks, cornering you in a deserted hallway late at night. His voice is calm, almost curious, but the way he leans into your space makes your pulse race.

“She’s… nice to me,” you mumble, clutching your bag like it’s a shield.

He tilts his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Nice, huh? Is that what you call it when someone uses you to boost their own image?”

You blink, confused. “She’s not—”

“Oh, she is,” he interrupts, stepping closer. His shadow swallows you whole, his height and bulk overwhelming in the dim light. “That bitch doesn’t care about you. Not really. She just likes feeling superior. Likes having a little pet she can parade around.”

“That’s not true,” you whisper, but your voice lacks conviction.

He smirks, leaning down until his breath brushes against your ear. “Isn’t it?”

———

But his words aren’t enough.

He needs her gone.

It starts with small inconveniences. Her car won’t start one morning. Someone “accidentally” spills coffee on her laptop during a club meeting. An anonymous email gets sent to her professor, accusing her of plagiarism.

Each time, she brushes it off, too stubborn to back down. But he can see the cracks forming.

She’s not invincible.

———

The final straw comes when he sees you smiling at her.

Not the polite, hesitant smile you give to strangers. Not the strained, nervous smile you’ve given him in the past.

This smile is soft. Genuine. Warm in a way that makes his chest ache with something he can’t name.

He doesn’t realize he’s gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turn white.

———

That night, he finds himself in her dorm building.

It’s easy enough to slip past the front desk. No one questions him; he’s too well-liked, too respected.

Her door is unlocked. Careless. Arrogant.

Inside, the room smells faintly of coffee and freshly printed documents. Her desk is cluttered with papers, her laptop glowing faintly in sleep mode. There’s a photo of you on her wall—a candid shot she must have taken during one of your outings.

It’s too much.

He moves to the desk, his fingers ghosting over the papers. An idea forms, dark and insidious.

No one will ever touch what belongs to him.

────────────

The fluorescent hallway lights buzzed faintly as Domo strode toward her dorm room, her heels clicking against the polished floor with a rhythm that mirrored the irritation simmering under her skin. It had been a long day—between the sabotage at the journalism event and the strange tension lingering in your eyes, she’d barely had time to breathe.

She muttered under her breath as she fished her keys from her bag, her hand brushing against the familiar edges of her planner. “If one more thing goes wrong—”

The moment the door swung open, her breath caught.

Her room was a battlefield.

The soft lavender scent she always carried was drowned in the metallic tang of chaos. Her desk, once a haven of meticulously arranged papers and books, was overturned. Pages lay scattered across the floor, some torn to ribbons, others crumpled and smeared with ink. Her chair was on its side, one wheel snapped clean off.

Her laptop—her lifeline, her pride and joy—lay on the floor, its screen fractured like a spiderweb, blue light flickering weakly through the cracks.

But it was the bed that stopped her cold.

The neatly made covers were now rumpled, shoved to one side to make room for a single piece of paper. The note sat stark against the mess, its edges too pristine, its presence deliberate.

She didn’t want to move closer. Every muscle in her body screamed for her to leave, to call campus security, to do something. But her legs carried her forward, step by step, until she stood at the edge of the bed.

The words were scrawled in a hand too neat to belong to a careless vandal.

Stay away from her.

Her throat tightened.

———

The adrenaline hit her all at once, her hands trembling as she reached for her phone. Her mind raced, the logical mind in her trying to piece together the puzzle even as her gut churned with unease.

She dialed. First the RA—no answer. Then campus security.

“Room 417,” she said, her voice steady despite the growing dread. “Someone broke into my dorm. I need someone here now.”

The words felt hollow, too calm, as if the situation hadn’t quite settled into reality. But as she hung up, the silence in the room pressed against her like a living thing.

Her eyes darted around the space, searching for something—anything—that could make sense of this. A motive. A clue.

And then her gaze fell on the photo.

It had been pinned neatly to her bulletin board just that morning. A candid shot of you, looking shy but peaceful as you stared out across the campus quad.

Now, it lay face-down on the floor, the edges bent as if someone had handled it roughly.

She picked it up, her fingers brushing against the glossy surface. When she flipped it over, her stomach turned.

A jagged line slashed through your face, cutting clean through the image.

———

Her first instinct wasn’t fear. It was anger.

Whoever did this wanted her to be afraid. Wanted her to step aside, to leave you to whatever twisted game they were playing. And she didn’t back down from a challenge—especially not from cowards who hid in the dark.

She started pacing, her hands clenched into fists.

“That arrogant bastard,” she hissed, the image of him flashing in her mind. His smug smirk, the way he always loomed just a little too close to you. She’d seen it before, men like him who thought the world owed them everything.

She grabbed her planner, flipping through the pages as if the neatly written schedule could offer her some form of control.

“No way he’s getting away with this.”

———

By the time campus security arrived, she had already taken photos of the mess and the note.

“This isn’t random,” she told the officer, her tone sharp and commanding despite the tremor in her hands. “Someone was trying to send me a message.”

The officer nodded, scribbling notes on a pad. “Do you have any enemies? Anyone who might hold a grudge?”

Her jaw tightened. She could name at least one. But without proof, she’d be playing into his hands.

“Just focus on finding out who did this,” she snapped, brushing past him to retrieve her laptop. The fractured screen mocked her, but she held it close, refusing to let the damage sink in.

She didn’t have time to wallow. Not when you were caught in the middle of this.

———

Later that night, as she sat in the campus library—her temporary refuge while the investigation began—her thoughts kept circling back to you.

You’d been quiet lately, quieter than usual. And she hated the way her mind connected the dots.

What if he’s already gotten to her?

Her grip tightened on the pen in her hand, the plastic groaning under the pressure.

She wouldn’t let that happen.

You were hers to protect. Whether you realized it or not.

────────────

The morning sunlight spilled pale and indifferent through the campus windows, a thin blade of light carving through the cracks in the blinds. The café library buzzed faintly, conversations merging into a singular, dull hum. Domo sat at her usual spot, a cup of black coffee clutched in one hand, her other fingers lazily scrolling through her phone. The world felt distant, her senses dulled by the weight of the night before.

She hadn’t slept.

Her room was back in order—a surgical restoration of control over the chaos—but the faint, acidic taste of fear still clung to her like a second skin. The note. The photo. The implication. It swirled in her mind, toxic and consuming. She hated how much it had shaken her. Hated that he’d gotten to her, if only for a moment.

But you? You had no idea.

She watched you shuffle into the café library, your movements hesitant, almost deer-like, as though the world might devour you whole if you stepped too loudly. You scanned the room nervously until your eyes landed on her, softening slightly. You made your way over, the edges of a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Good morning,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the cafeteria noise.

Domo glanced up from her phone, her expression perfectly composed. “Morning. You’re late.”

You fumbled awkwardly with the bag in your hands, your nervous energy radiating like static electricity. For a moment, you didn’t sit down, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as though gathering your courage.

“Uh… I-I have something for you.”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair, the faintest smirk curling her lips. “Something for me? Should I be worried?”

You flushed, shaking your head rapidly. “No! I… I just… I remembered you mentioned your birthday… once. A while ago. I don’t know if it’s today or…” You trailed off, your face burning as you shoved the bag toward her.

She blinked, surprised.

“It’s nothing much,” you mumbled quickly, your words tumbling over each other. “I-I didn’t know if you’d even like it, but, um… I thought it might make you smile, and… I mean, you’re like a sister to me. And I just…”

You froze mid-ramble as Domo opened the bag.

Her fingers stilled when they touched the soft, handmade edges of the scrapbook.

———

The cover was simple, your handwriting slightly crooked but endearing. As she flipped through the pages, her chest tightened.

It was filled with moments. Little fragments of the last two months pieced together with care. Pictures of the two of you, some she didn’t even realize you’d saved—her laughing with a coffee in hand, you hiding awkwardly behind a textbook. There were memes printed out and glued alongside hastily scrawled captions, inside jokes and shared silliness. There was a snapshot of the rainy afternoon when you’d both gotten caught in a sudden storm, drenched and laughing despite yourselves.

And on the last page, written in your uneven handwriting, were the words.

“Thank you for being my friend.”

———

Domo didn’t cry.

She hadn’t cried in years, and she wouldn’t start now. But something in her chest softened, and she closed the scrapbook with deliberate care, her fingers brushing over the cover as though it might break.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended. “Do you know how inappropriate it is to give a gift like this without expecting something in return?”

Your face fell, your shoulders hunching. “I-I didn’t mean—”

Her hand reached across the table, pressing lightly against yours, stopping your words.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” she said quietly, her eyes locking onto yours. “It’s thoughtful. Too thoughtful. And coming from you…”

She smirked faintly, masking the warmth in her chest with her usual bravado. “It’s borderline suspicious.”

You blinked at her, your lips parting in confusion before you realized she was teasing. A small, shy smile tugged at your lips, and Domo felt something twist inside her—something protective, fierce, and wholly unshakable.

———

For a moment, she forgot the note. The photo. The rage boiling under her skin.

For a moment, it was just you, looking at her like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

She would burn the whole campus down before she let anyone take that look away from you.

────────────

The café library was a tomb of whispers and muffled footsteps, every sound swallowed by the weight of the silence. He lingered in the shadowed alcove on the second floor, the perfect vantage point to see everything without being seen. He wasn’t even sure why he was here. No, that was a lie. He always knew.

You were a creature of habit—pathetic, predictable, easy to track. You spent your evenings in the same corner of the library, tucked away with your fraying notebooks and a nervous energy that made you chew your pen caps into mangled ruins. It wasn’t endearing. It wasn’t. But it kept him coming back, night after night, his excuse for being here as thin as the veneer of civility he wore.

And tonight, she was here too.

Domo.

Her voice carried low and soft, a balm to the otherwise oppressive silence. He could hear her laugh—short, confident, like she wasn’t trying too hard. Like it came easily to her. And worse, he could see the way it made you smile.

His hands curled into fists.

You were seated across from her at a table, your usual timid posture replaced with something lighter. Relaxed. Almost happy. You gestured clumsily with your hands as you spoke, and she leaned in, amused but attentive, her sharp gaze softening in a way he despised. She made you feel seen.

She had no right.

You pulled something from your bag—small, wrapped in mismatched paper, the kind of sloppy job that screamed you had tried. The thought of it made his stomach twist with something that felt too much like jealousy to admit.

The exchange was muted from where he stood, but he didn’t need to hear the words. He could read the scene from the way you shoved the gift across the table, your nervous energy practically vibrating through the air. The slight flush in your cheeks. The tentative smile that slipped past your usual reserve.

And the worst part—

The way she smiled back.

———

It was like a razor dragged down his spine.

That bitch. That motherfucking bitch.

She had everything. She had the prestige, the power, the reputation. She didn’t need more. She didn’t get to take you too. You weren’t hers to mold or shape or save. You weren’t hers to build up when he had spent so much time tearing you down.

You were his.

Even if you didn’t realize it.

Even if it made you hate him.

———

His vision blurred at the edges as rage twisted inside him, slow and corrosive, eating away at the last fraying threads of his self-control. His pulse pounded in his ears, each beat hammering out the same thought:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He could picture it too clearly—the way her fingers had lingered on that pathetic little scrapbook. He could imagine her voice, all saccharine sweetness, telling you how thoughtful you were. Feeding your delusions. Making you believe you were worth something.

The room spun as he leaned forward, his fingers biting into the cold edge of the railing. Below, Domo reached across the table, her hand brushing yours lightly, a gesture so casual it made his teeth ache.

She was stealing you.

Stealing you right out from under him, and you were too stupid, too blind to see it.

———

Something snapped.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic—it was quiet, insidious, like the faint crack of ice beneath your feet before you plunge into the freezing depths.

He stepped back from the railing, his breathing slow and deliberate. His fingers uncurled, and he flexed them once, twice, as if shaking off a chill.

He’d been patient for too long.

This was her fault. She had crossed a line she couldn’t uncross.

And now she would see what happened when you tried to take something that belonged to him.

———

As he slipped out of the library, the soft murmur of your laughter followed him like a ghost.

By the time he reached the cold night air, his mind was already made up.

Domo wouldn’t smile like that again.

Not after he was done with you.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie

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todays-xkcd · 7 months ago

Text

Hint: If you ever encounter this puzzle in a crossword app, just [term for someone with a competitive and high-achieving personality].

A Crossword Puzzle [Explained]

Transcript

[A square 15x15 crossword puzzle is shown. Only 21 of the 225 squares are black. The black squares are in a pattern that are 180 degree rotationally symmetrical. Three black squares down from the 11th column and similarly three black squares up from the 5th column. Three black squares out from the right in row 7 and then two more black squares diagonally up from the end. Similarly three black squares out from the left in row 9 with two more black squares diagonally down from the end. A single black square is three above the first black square on the diagonal going down to the right and similarly there is a black square three under the first of the diagonal squares going down to the left. (Row 6 column 12 and Row 10 column 4). Finally there are three black squares on a diagonal crossing over the central point by going up from the left through the central point (Row 8 column 8). There are numbers at the top of every column (except the one that is a black square) and similarly at the left edge of all rows (except the one that is a black square). There are also numbers at the bottom of every black segment (except the one that reaches the bottom) and all rows after black segments except the one that reaches the right edge. In total all numbers from 1 to 51 is written. They are written in reading order from 1 to 51.]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

[Below the square there are two rows of clues for each number that belongs to across (rows) and to the right there are one row of clues for each number that belongs to down (columns). Both segments have an underlined and bold title above the clues. ]

'''Across'''

1. Famous Pvt. Wilhelm quote

11. IPv6 address record

15. "CIPHERTEXT" decrypted with Vigenère key "CIPHERTEXT"

16. 8mm diameter battery

17. "Warthog" attack aircraft

18. Every third letter in the word for "inability to visualize"

19. An acrostic hidden on the first page of the dictionary

21. Default paper size in Europe

22. First four unary strings

23. Lysine codon

24. 40 CFR Part 63 subpart concerning asphalt pollution

25. Top bond credit rating

26. Audi coupe

27. A pair of small remote batteries, when inserted

29. Unofficial Howard Dean slogan

32. A 4.0 report card

33. The "Harlem Globetrotters of baseball" (vowels only)

34. 2018 Kiefer song

35. Top Minor League tier

36. Reply elicited by a dentist

38. ANAA's airport

41. Macaulay Culkin's review of aftershave

43. Marketing agency trade grp.

44. Soaring climax of Linda Eder's ''Man of La Mancha''

46. Military flight community org.

47. Iconic line from ''Tarzan''

48. Every other letter of Jimmy Wales's birth state

49. Warthog's postscript after "They call me ''mister'' pig!"

50. Message to Elsa in ''Frozen 2''

51. Lola, when betting it all on Black 20 in ''Run Lola Run''

“Down

1. Game featuring "a reckless disregard for gravity"

2. 101010101010101010101010 [sub]2→16

3. Google phone released July '22

4. It's five times better than that ''other'' steak sauce

5. ToHex(43690)

6. Freddie Mercury lyric from ''Under Pressure''

7. Full-size Audi luxury sedan

8. Fast path through a multiple choice marketing survey

9. 12356631 in base 26

10. Viral Jimmy Barnes chorus

11. Ruby Rhod catchphrase

12. badbeef + 9efcebbb

13. In Wet Let's ''Ur Mum'', what the singer has been practicing

14. Refrain from Nora Reed bot

20. Mario button presses to ascend Minas Tirith's walls

24. Vermont historic route north from Bennington

26. High-budget video game

28. Unorthodox Tic-Tac-Toe win

29. String whose SHA-256 hash ends "...689510285e212385"

30. Arnold's remark to the Predator

31. The vowels in the fire salamander's binomial name

32. Janet Leigh ''Psycho'' line

34. Seven 440Hz pulses

37. Audi luxury sports sedan

38. A half-dozen eggs with reasonably firm yolks

39. 2-2-2-2-2-2 on a multitap phone keypad

40. .- .- .- .- .- .-

42. Rating for China's best tourist attractions

43. Standard drumstick size

45. "The rain/in Spain/falls main-/ly on the plain" rhyme scheme

#xkcd #xkcd 2957 #webcomics #a crossword puzzle

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yuoimia · 4 months ago

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SAVED NUMBERS

summary: you’re not the only one trying to keep it together (conversations over the phone) based off this scene from summer strike. characters: alhaitham, kinich, childe notes: fluff, teasing, mention of anxiety in kinich’s, wc: 1.3k

alhaitham

A sudden pattern of musical chimes sliced through the silence of the dark bedroom.

Automatically, a cathartic groan and yawn escape from your mouth as you blindly manoeuvred your hand across your nightstand, finally seizing the source of the irritating noise. A tap of your finger revealed the time and responsible caller.

“Is he crazy?” you abruptly sat up, roughly rubbing your eyes as if it there were some kind of mistake. “It’s 4am, for goodness sake.” Nevertheless, your finger swiped to answer the call, sinking yourself back into the warmth of the thick blankets and pillows and holding the phone close to your ear.

“Do you know what time it is?” you drawled, switching your attention from the ceiling to the phone.

“I couldn’t sleep,” came a breathy reply, those three words fluctuating in audibility. A faint hint of laughter. “But to answer your question, yes I do. It’s 4:06am.”

His voice is tender and doused in fatigue, a rare state to find the illustrious scribe. Gentle rustling of a comforter and indistinct breaths over the line. How close was he holding the phone? As if instinctual, you raise a hand against your lips to suppress any traces of nervousness and regulate the rapid beating echoing in your chest.

“You haven’t fallen asleep yet, have you?” he asked albeit suddenly, the sounds of movement halting.

You turned over and pulled the blanket to signify your consciousness, clearing your throat. “No,” then smiling as you added, “does my absence go as far as to completely disturb your precious sleep?”

Despite the cool emptiness of the night, the momentous distance that separated you both felt unimportant and forgotten. “You’re so bold.” Imperceptible traces of adoration intertwining within his voice, “but you’ve never been wrong when it comes to me.”

kinich

The scent of salt and sweet fruit juice swept through the open window of your rented cabin, sweeping the sheer curtains that adorned the wooden sides in graceful arches. Beyond the intricate frames stretched the breathtaking vastness of a tired sky, dwindling from its vibrant hues to a soothing navy blue, the prelude to a serene night blessed with stars. Faraway music and laughter echoed through the rolling hills of the People of the Springs, their infectious celebrations spilling through the evening, washing away any last remnants of worry or doubt that were previously clawing in your guts. It felt strange, almost eerie, somehow. Everything that once seemed so big and important felt so small and trivial against the quiet sanctuary where thoughts could gather by choice. This fragile feeling of saturated peace was always depicted as something temporary, and perhaps it was, but its value always lasted infinitely.

You take a step back and turn yourself to survey the cabin, leaning your hands against the windowsill. A coastal design with a minimal palette of blues and greys. Warm lamps scattered from the corners of the room to the ceilings of the ensuite. Puffy armchairs and beige bohemian couches around the edges of the bed, generously sized and cocooned by thick blankets and billowy pillows.

From beneath one of the blankets, a faint light emits through the fabric, simultaneous with the constant vibrating. The contact name elicits a soft smile, wasting no time to slide your finger to answer the call.

“I thought you’d forget,” you admitted, sinking yourself into the plush mattress. You laid on your back, an outstretched arm over your head as another held the phone.

“I’m offended that you thought so,” came his lofty reply. He was always so casual with his way of speaking. Blunt in some eyes, but equally endearing.

“I don’t have much time before Ajaw comes back,” and as if sensing your confusion, he adds, “I sent him on an… impromptu and urgent mission.”

His earnestness, so refreshing in the midst of such a quiet evening, brought forth a fit of laughter that resonated in your chest, and spread through the form of euphoria into your veins, warm and delicately precious. “It’s not late yet. Did you trick Ajaw into completing your commissions for you?”

His response was a half-hearted ‘hmm’. If this was a video call, you’re 99% sure that it would be accompanied by an even more half-hearted shrug. A moment to close his eyes, too.

“Poor Ajaw,” you jested, leaning to your side. “Out doing his master’s work while he handles other things he deems more important.”

“This is more important,” Kinich replies thoughtfully. “I wanted to say I love you before you went to sleep.”

For a fleeting moment, you’re completely suspended in silence, as if time momentarily halted. Did you hear that right? Of course you did; it wasn’t anything shocking. He was probably teasing you, provoking a reaction, like usual.

“The sun is still setting; what made you think I’d sleep this early?” You were nosy now, curiosity piqued at what he had to reason. I wanted to say I love you. It chanted like a spell, casting you into a dazed and smiling mess. I wanted to say I love you.

“The People of the Springs pride themselves on their bustling atmosphere. You’re not the type to miss out on that. Knowing you, you’ve probably exhausted yourself and are lying in bed as we speak.”

Bingo, bingo, and bingo.

childe

Only three more hours…

Boredom and exhaustion rippled through your body as you cupped your face in your hands, leaning absentmindedly over the front counter of the Northland Bank. Ornamental decorations occasionally twinkled when someone would enter, lazily drifting for a few seconds before falling back right into place, mirroring your state quite accurately. Each person was greeted in the same, uniform way. You’d briskly straighten with a polished smile, brightly posing a list of questions everyone would be asked before slouching back down once you successfully redirected them to an appropriate staff member.

“It would probably be dark by the time I’m out,” you mumbled with a ghost of a pout at the door, gazing half-heartedly at the tinted panels lined near the ceiling. Spotting a loose pen on the floor, you bent to retrieve it when the sound of a phone ringing from a cupboard caught your attention.

Answering personal calls while on the job was a strict regulation that was generally prohibited. Even so, you pondered, folding your arms and sneaking sideways peeks at the entries to empty hallways, so painfully desolate that even it too seemed opposed to any opportunity for distraction, those heedless and sickeningly pompous higher-ups would never dream of working on a Saturday afternoon, more or less care if a forgettable receptionist were to be caught on the phone.

“Hello?” you answered flatly, clearly disinterested in who the caller was from the way you didn’t bother to check the contact name before holding the phone close to your ear. Indistinct sounds of metal clashing and dull thuds echoed in response, and oddly, the bubbling of rushing water.

“Hello?” you repeated once again, a bit more forcefully in case the recipient couldn’t hear over the bizarre assortment of noises. A new round of agitation flushed through your body at the callers purposeful disregard, heat clambering up your face. Within the second you seriously contemplated hanging up, a panting voice emerged, and with it, a fervent series of persistent coughing and choking.

“Hey, don’t hang..up,” the voice, weak but evenly enthusiastic. “Sorry about that, I called, then a random army of treasure hoarders started attacking me from nowhere, and I had to-“

“Is this who I think it is?” Pausing in disbelief from amazement, you felt surges of every possible emotion colliding against each other in nauseating rounds inside your head. Hearing his voice so close by your ear whilst being surrounded by the bleakest of places felt like a taste of something divinely transcendental.

“Who else?” a breathless laugh came from the person on the other line. “I know…you told me to not call you unless it was an emergency, but hey, i’ve got your attention now, and I’d like to savour that for as long as I can.”

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #kinich x reader #kinich x you #childe x reader #anya writes ᝰ.ᐟ

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slxtarchive · 4 days ago

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄 ✿ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. you, harry, and some friends from your high school went out to your local diner to have dinner and relax. a few guys from your high school were there as well, harry wasn’t very happy when one of them had been bold enough to talk to you, and you went ahead and responded …

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. SMUT ! friends with benefits trope, oral (f) receiving, orgasm denial, edging, fingering, jealous h, hair pulling.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. repost because it wouldn't let me edit it to fix something but this was my very first fic ever that i wrote omg

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. roughly 1.6k +

you had been invited to have dinner with a couple of friends from school at around 8 pm and it was ten minutes till then so you knew it was about time to leave for the diner which was only five minutes away from your house — you lived in a small town.

you get in the car with your best friend annie, start the ignition, pull out of your driveway, and start driving to the diner.

“im so excited it’s been forever since we all hung out!” annie squealed with excitement as you made the final turn into the parking lot. as soon as you pulled in, you noticed about three boys leaning on one of the cars and two girls.

you squinted your eyes to get a better look at them.

one of them your friend harry — friend kind of a loose term. the other two, annie’s boyfriend ethan who was your best friend, and this kid named adam who recently started hanging out with them — the two girls unrecognizable.

you pulled into a parking space quickly before turning off the ignition “who are they?” annie asked confused. they were dressed in shorts skirts, one with a black crop top, and the other with a pink one.

“i don’t know. i’ve never seen them around here, like ever.” you pondered. “maybe friends of theirs? they didn’t say they were bringing anyone though.

you both got out of the car to survey what was going on. “the one in the pink is getting a little too close to ethan for my liking.” annie’s voice laced with jealousy spoke up.

“trust me, ethan’s loyal. he wouldn’t do anything, not even as much as look at them the wrong way.” you reassured her. ethan and you were best friends for a little longer than you and harry were. although you didn’t think you’d call you and harry, the best of friends …

“finally, one minute late.” ethan glances at his watch while pulling annie’s hand towards him and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“loosen up.” you rolled your eyes and turned to the two girls. “hi, im yn.” you smiled only to got a weird look in return.

okay…

“and no hi’s or hellos?” harry spoke, with his eyebrows raised.

“not for you.” you said with fake enthusiasm. “we going in or not? annie and i are starving.”

they agreed and by they — only harry, ethan, and adam. you walked inside the diner and were met with only a group of guys sat at one of the booths.

you recognized mostly all of them as they did go to your high school. you walked passed them as they subtly whispered things that you didn’t bother to decipher. you turned around and saw annie, ethan, harry, and adam following you along with the two girls.

one of them was starting to look familiar in the better lighting but you didn’t know for sure who exactly they were.

you sat down on one side of the booth as annie and ethan sat on the other side. harry usually sat next to you but one of the girls took his spot and made him sit next to her in between her and the other girl.

you shifted uncomfortably causing annie to give you a look of concern.

“so, what are your names?” annie spoke up. ethan’s hand was over her shoulder as she leaned up against him.

“natasha. this is johanna.” she dismissively said, continuing to make conversation with harry. what a bitch. wait…

johanna.

oh my god.

“johanna? didn’t you go to camp with us?” you questioned her as she turned to look at you with a look of annoyance etched on her face.

“yeah…and?” she replied steely before turning back to harry giggling. she blushes at something he says and strokes his shoulder and brushes back his hair. what the fuck was going one

you wondered if she knew that just last week you were pulling on that same head of hair while he fucked you senseless — let’s not.

“yn, i think that guys eyeing you.” annie’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. you turned around and saw ivan looking at you. ivan was one of the most good looking guys at your high school. huge ego but he can be sweet when he wants to be.

“he looks like he wants to talk to you.” annie winks and you roll my eyes. “go put on a song. maybe he’ll make a move.” she giggled and hands you a few quarters.

“annie…i don’t know.” you blushed looking downwards. sure ivan is cute…. you looked up to see harry’s response only to see he was occupied at the moment with his new girlfriend johanna.

“yn just go and see.” annie cuts off your stare johanna and harry encouraging you. you used your peripheral vision to see harry staring your way. by then, you knew what choice you were going to make.

you smiled knowingly. “fine.” you faked being annoyed as you mumbled excuse me so you can exit the booth.

you successfully got out and walked toward the music player. while you faked looking for a song you felt a presence and a tap. ivan.

“hi.” his seductive yet shy voice spoke.

“oh hey ivan, what’s up?” you pretended to be unfazed while on the inside you were dying to look at harry’s face.

“i ust … well i just wanted to say that um you look really nice today.’ he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. his cheeked were flushed and you could tell he indeed did feel a bit nervous.

you turned finally looking at him. “thank you, that means a lot.” you flirtatiously smiled, pressing your lips together a faint blush rising up on your cheeks.

“i was wondering … could i possibly get your number.” he asked and you had to admit you were kind of surprised.

your eyes widened but you recovered quickly not wanting to make it seem like you were freaking out — even if you were in the inside. “sure why not.” you laughed taking out your phone and reading your phone number to him.

“great. uhh…so can i text you?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

you nodded and put your hand on his shoulder. “of course, i’m definitely looking forward to it.”

he smiled and nodded saying goodbye while walking back towards his table. you turned your head towards your own table and met the eyes of a glaring and very jealous harry.

fantastic. you thought.

you got home about an hour ago. you showered, did your hygiene stuff, did some homework and now you were in bed watching youtube about to fall asleep.

beforee you were about to turn off the tv though, you heard the doorbell ring.

yoy were just going to leave it until you remembered your parents weren’t going to be home till tomorrow evening. maybe it was them home early?

you scurried downstairs and looked at the bat that was beside the bench in the entrance hall of your house. you looked through the peep hole and noticed…harry?

you opened the door. “what are you doing here?”

he chuckled and walked inside letting himself in. “close the door. it’s freezing.” he shivered, rubbing his hands together.

you rolled your eyes and closed the door. you were about to turn around and question him again but he was already heading upstairs.

you followed him and went into your room. he kicked off his shoes and took off his jacket and pants leaving him in his t-shirt and boxers and jumped into your bed under the covers.

“harry? were you supposed to come over today because i don’t remember that conversation—” you started but got cut off almost immediately.

“so… you going out with ivan?” he began, eyes focused on the tv.

so that’s what this is about.

“so you going out with johanna.” You countered, hands on your hips not about to let him out this on youz

he laughed. “who said i was going out with johanna?”

“and who said i was going out with ivan?” you continued on. you knew he was bound to get annoyed. it was fun pushing his buttons. you crawled back on top of the bed turning off your lamp so that the only light was the one illuminating from the television.

“hm, seemed like you were into him.” he spits and you could hear the jealousy in his voice.

“i was, why do you care?” you shrug starting to lay down comfortably.

all of a sudden, he turns and gets on top of you grabbing both hands and pinning them above your head. “because…you’re mine, okay? don’t want you fooling around with any of those stupid boys.”

this went from 0 to 100 real quick.

“but i’m not yours.” you smiled tugging one of your hands from under his and going to reach his silky hair brushing it back. “you wouldn’t do shit. even if you found out that just before i got home today I was fucking him.” you loved to tease him because he was so easy to tease. you both knew you wouldn’t let anyone touch you but him. though, somehow the things you said got to him.

“yeah?” he challenges causing your stomach starts doing jumping jacks. you felt him trail his free hand down towards your lacy underwear. you knew where this was going and you were so glad your parents weren’t home. “all wet just for me right?” he asked almost eliciting the tiniest moan but no, you wanted to tease him a bit more.

“not really. i was just thinking of how ivan’s fingers felt deep inside me. touching that spot you could never hit right.” you smiled looking down at his hand.

that bothered him a little.

“really…” he trailed raising his eyebrows. you felt his fingers touch your clit automatically rubbing it slowly and gently.

“oh god.” you clenched your eyes shut. don’t. don’t show him how good this feels. “oh… you’re almost there. i almost felt something—” you tried teasing but got cut off by your own moan.

damn him for being good at this.

“c’mon baby, you know you got a soft spot just for me.” he continued his attack on your clit. you already felt like you were going to cum.

“i really don’t.” you dismissed propping yourself on your elbows so you could get closer to his face.

he pushed his lips on yours harshly for a few seconds before pulling away. “so if i stopped right now you would be okay?” he challenged.

no.

“yeah.” you responded breathlessly and he immediately pulled his hand away from your clit. “wait...” you paused, conflicted with what you were going to do. fuck.

“fine. get yourself off.” he smiles lying back on the other side of the bed.

don’t. don’t do it. be stronger.

“please.” you whimpered.

“please what?” he licked his lips. he was loving this. you failed at trying to tease him. you didn’t care if this boosted his ego. you needed him.

“make me cum.” you begged and he immediately turned back over and kissed your lips, then your cheeks, then neck, chest, all the way down to your inner thighs.

“you sure you want me too?” he continuously peppers your thighs with kisses.

“yes.” you begged. you spread your thighs wider to give him more access. you were getting more wet every second he was taunting you.

“mmm, look at you all hot and bothered.” he tutted. “want me to help you baby?” he pouted earning a desperate nod in response.

“words baby.” he prolonged the wait, needing to hear verbal communication from you.

“yes. yes harry. help me please. i’m so wet for you i need you to touch me.” you begged him earning a chuckle before licking a stripe up your clit going in for it. your eyes fluttered closed focusing on the sensation that was overcoming your body.

“taste so good. fuck — i always love the way you taste.” he groaned up against your pussy; the vibrations adding onto the feeling.

you grab onto his head tugging on his hair. he moaned against your clit causing your hips to buck up.

“do that again.” he begged you, hands sternly gripping your thighs. you tugged onto his head of hair again, harder this time.

“look at me.” he groaned. you looked down and made intense eye contact. you noticed him rubbing himself up against the end of the mattress. you moved your eyes to watch him as he continues his attack on your clit. his tongue exploring everything. “you almost there baby?”

“yeah…fuck your tongue feels so good.” you swore almost reaching your peak. “gonna cum h — fuck…” you moaned.

“don’t.” he demanded. “don’t come.” you whimpered, feeling that tightness in your abdomen starting to feel uncomfortable.

“can’t — harry please i need to cum.” you pleaded with him, taking a gasp of air trying to take a deep breath.

he stopped his actions all together putting a wall in between you and that peak you were finally reaching.

“no, please. harry. i was almost there.” you bucked your hips towards him again but all he did was push your hips back down. tears welled up in your eyes at that blinding discomfort.

“how bad do you want to cum?” he asked rubbing your thighs up and down, a slight teasing pout rested on his lips.

“so bad. so so bad.” you whimpered squirming under his touch.

his fingers make their way towards your entrance rubbing it and pushing his finger in half way in a teasing way.

“so so wet. embarrassing really. how wet you get just by me licking you all up.” he smiled. he circled his fingers in your arousal bringing it up and lathering you clit with it causing your head to lull back.

you needed to cum so bad the feeling in your stomach starting to simmer. “harry please.” you whisper brushing your sweaty hair back.

“okay, you’ve been a good girl after all haven’t you baby.” he starts to full on finger you at last bringing that feeling in your stomach back up strongly.

he sucked on your clit again and again until you just about felt like you were going to explode.

“fuck. m’gonna cum — fuck fuck fuck.” you moaned and soon enough you were cumming onto his mouth.

after a few seconds of coming down from your high you came back to reality. harry cleaned you up and then laid back down onto the bed beside you. you felt fatigue overcome you quickly. you buried yourself under the blankets and turned off the television.

harry put the covers over you both and pulled you into him. “i have to talk to you about something tomorrow.” he whispered running fingers through your hair.

“why can’t you do it now?” you questioned sleepily.

“it requires your full attention and id prefer you not be half asleep.” he lightheartedly adds.

you pouted, “i’m not half asleep. just exhausted.” you smiled laying on his bare chest.

he sighed before smiling back, not being able to keep his serious demeanor on. “jus’ wanted to ask you something…” he licked his bottom lip and took a deep breath. “wanted to ask if… maybe you’d wanna go out on a date. let me take you out, i mean.”

you let his words sink in not being able to keep a straight face. you sarcastically gasped in response, “oh my, harry styles wants to take me out on a date?” you cheekily said. “i’d love that.” you calmed down.

he rolled his eyes, “shush. tomorrow, m’kay?” he said kissing your forehead.

you nodded sighing in content before letting your eyes flutter close.

#𖦹°‧★ 𝑺𝑳𝑿𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑬 #𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀 𝑺𝑻𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑺 ᝰ.ᐟ #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles x fem reader #long hair harry #i love harry styles

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hoejosatoru · 2 years ago

Text

Roster Hopper

Pairings: Fem!Reader x College Au Karasuno players (separately, except for Tsuki & Yamaguchi)

Summary: You make a bet with your best friend and co manager that you can sleep through the entire Karasuno roster, without the team finding out.

Word Count: 8.4k

Warning: reader having sex with entire team lmfao, maybe reader is slightly manipulative at times? I don’t think so but tagging just incase, oral (fem receiving) in multiple different positions, light spanking, p in v sex in different positions, men whimpering lol, oral (male receiving), fingering, thumb in ass, squirting, spit, sorta voyeurism, threesome (Tsuki and Yams) virginity loss (Yams), semi public sex, brief drinking mention MDNI

A/n: Changed my original idea to just y/n trying to go through the roster bc you plus a friend is a lot and trying to write around the team not finding out would be hard SO here we are. Y/f/n = your friends name. I didn’t want to have to think of a random name. If you don’t have someone you can just slot in Kiyoko or something. I also bolded each players name so if you want to skip to a specific dude, hopefully it is easier to find. Enjoy!

“How long have they been at it?” you asked your friend as you were filling up water bottles for the third time this practice. If you weren’t so used to the sound of volleyballs being smacked around, it would probably have driven you crazy by now. It was your second year as Karasuno University’s volleyball team manager and you loved it. Water bottle fill up runs and all.

“Too long,” your friend replied, “I don’t get where they get the energy from. I’m tired just watching them.”

“Same.” You screwed the last bottle shut. “But the first years are really good. I think we have a shot this year.”

“Oh without a doubt,” y/f/n’s nodded. “And if they keep practicing like this they’ll only get better. They’re pretty cute too, not that is going to help them win games.”

You laughed. “I was waiting for your say something.” Your voice dropped a little, so none of the boys could overhear you. Not that they were really paying attention to either of you at the moment. Volleyball is life and all. “We have a really cute team, don’t you think?”

Your friend nodded and whispered back. “For sure. Who do you think is the cutest?” This is why you were glad you convinced your best friend to manage with you. Nothing passed time like gossiping about boys with a friend.

“Hmm,” you considered, “Kageyama is cute. But you know how I like dark haired guys. Nish too. Never thought I would think a short guy was so hot. Don’t tell him I said that.” You didn’t want to offend him, but you had a sneaking suspicion all he would care about was that you called him hot. Him and Tanaka were a bit girl-crazy. They were the only players that shameless flirted with you and your friend. You liked that about them; it was fun.

“No, for real! I think Asahi has to be the cutest though,” you friend replied.

You nodded. They were all pretty good looking guys, so you couldn’t argue. “But the real question is, who do you think is the best in bed?”

Your friend took a second to think about it before answering. “Daichi.”

“Really?”

Your friend shrugged. “I mean he’s one of the oldest, so he’s probably got experience. Plus he’s the captain.”

You snorted. “What does being captain of a volleyball have to do with being good in bed?”

Your friend huffed in faux annoyance. “Well it makes sense in my head. Who do you think then?”

“Honestly maybe Nishinoya.”

“I think you just have a crush on him.”

“Shut up. But also Sugawara. It’s the quiet ones you gotta look out for, you know?”

Your friend nodded. “Totally. Maybe we gotta hunt down their past hook ups and do a survey.” You both laughed, drawing the attention of Tanaka.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” You both answered in unison, before turning your back to the court to laugh more. As ridiculous as the conversation was, it sparked your curiosity. You couldn’t deny that you'd thought about hooking up with some of the players. You watched them run around and get sweaty for hours everyday, what else were you supposed to think about? You’d never actually done it, though, not wanting to ruin any friendships with the guys. They could be a rowdy bunch, but you did love them dearly.

That, however, didn’t stop you from hatching a crazy idea. “What if we didn’t need other people to find out.”

Your friend’s eye brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I will do all the research,” you replied. She gave you a look that told you she still didn’t understand what you meant. “I sleep with all of them and then we’ll know who the best.”

Y/f/n looked at you like you were crazy. Which, to be fair, maybe you were. “You can’t be serious. All of them?”

“Well not at the same time,” you replied, like a smart ass. Your friend rolled her eyes.

“Obviously. But that’s still crazy! There’s so many of them.”

“There’s not that many. Just nine of them. Give me the whole school year and I could do it,” you responded.

“No way you can,” she replied.

“Wanna bet?” You challenged.

“Absolutely,” your friend replied, “500 bucks says you can’t sleep through the team by the end of the school year.” Damn 500? But a big challenges calls for big stakes.

“You're on.” You shook hands. “Now let’s figure out the rules.”

After a little discussion you both agreed that besides the obvious of having to get through the 9 players by the last day of school, they couldn’t find out about what was going on. If you were to tell them about the challenge, some of the players might do it just to help you. You had to get them in bed organically. Additionally, you couldn’t request certain sex acts. You both wanted to know how they tried to please women without any bias. If you started telling them what to do, it would mess with the data. Because this is super scientific, obviously.

Y/f/n allowed you one get out of jail free card if someone found out, but it had to be contained to the one person. If the whole team finds out, game over. You didn't need to provide any proof, but you did have to share your ranking with y/f/n at the end, which you were more than happy to. Any other issues that came up, you both agreed to figure out as needed. Simple enough.

“I’m not even going to bother asking you who you think will be the easiest,” your friend said. Both your eyes floated over to Nishinoya and Tanaka, making you both snicker. “But who do you think will be the hardest?”

“Daichi for sure,” you replied, “Doesn’t seem like he’s a hook up guy, but we’ll see. And Tsuki, just cause he can be a jerk.”

Your friend snickered. “He seems like the type who wants spank girls and make them call him daddy.”

You grinned. “I guess we will find out.”

A week later you were at party hosted at the team house. It was the perfect venue to make your first move. Only the upperclassmen could live in the house, but during parties the whole team plus many others were invited. Tonight’s party was particularly crowded, being that it was still early in the year and most people didn’t have much work to do yet. The crowd would make it easier for you to sneak away unnoticed, even with other teammates around.

You set your sights on Nishinoya first. You figured he’d be easy to get in bed, plus maybe you did have a little crush on him. You were super keen on finding out how he was in bed. Maybe it was because of the drink you had, but you were feeling bold. You decided to take a super straight forward, simple approach with Noya.

“Noya, do you want to have sex with me?” you asked when you managed to pull him to a private corner of the party. You almost laughed at how his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Are you serious? Tanaka didn’t, but you up to this as a joke, did he?” he asked.

“I promise he didn't,” you replied. “Just think you’re cute. Do you wanna?”

Nishinoya thought this was better than his birthday and winning nationals combined. “Fuck yes I do. When?”

You giggled at his enthusiasm. It was so endearing. “Right now?”

God he really was a lucky guy, he thought. “Fuck.” He chugged the rest of his beer for good measure. “Yeah let’s fucking do it.” You looked around to make sure no one was watching, before slipping up the stairs to his room. Luckily, his bedroom was on the second floor, which no one really came to. The parties stay in the basement or on the main floor, so you felt safe now that you made it up unnoticed.

The second he closed the door to his room, you pounced on him. You couldn’t help yourself. To be fair, it was very much a mutual pounce. Nishinoya kissed you eagerly, bordering on desperate, but in the best way. You pulled away, both of you breathing heavy.

“Before we do this, do you mind if this stay between us?” You asked, batting your eyes innocently at him. He was putty in your hands at this point; you knew he would agree to anything to get in your pants. “I don’t want it to be weird if the other guys found out.”

“Of course, I won’t tell anybody,” he nodded. You were back to kissing him, very desperately now. You were still standing by his door, pulling clothing off each other. Instead of wasting two steps to get to the bed, Noya just spun your around and bent you over the dresser right there. He was not a patient man and you were not complaining.

He slid your underwear odd, cursing. “Fuck you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this,” he cursed. You giggled, glad your crush had been reciprocated. Before you could get any words out, Noya was on his knees behind you, burying his face in your pussy. You gasped in surprised as he licked up your arousal, his tongue sliding through your puffy lips.

“Fuck Noya!” you cried as he sucked on your clit. His hands massaged your thighs and ass, keeping you spread for him. He hummed and groaned into your cunt as he ate you out, clearly enjoying it very much. Much like when he kissed you, it was eager and desperate and so fucking good. It didn’t take long before you were cumming all over his tongue.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he gushed, wiping your release off his face. He dug a condom out of the top dresser drawn, grinning eagerly at you.

“And you’re so fucking good at that,” you replied.

“I’m even better at this,” he replied, sinking his cock into you. Your body arched, surprised by the stretch. Noya’s thrusts were rough and frantic, clearly chasing after his high. He gripped your ass tightly, giving it a few smacks, but nothing too hard. You pressed your body back against him, loving that he wasn’t afraid to go for it. Your fingers scratched along the wood of his dresser as you tried desperately to hold on.

It was no use, though. Within minutes you were moaning his name and cumming on his cock. Noya, who was overjoyed he didn’t bust the second his slid in, let himself go the second he felt your velvety walls clench around him.

“Fuck, y/n, so fucking good.”

You gave Nishinoya a long thank you kiss before getting dressed. You agreed to go down first and then he’d come down a few minutes later so it wouldn’t be obvious you were together. You left his room grinning. And just like that, one was crossed off the list.

A week later you decided to try your luck again. Tanaka mentioned he was going to check out a frat party and you asked for a ride there, which he happily agreed to. As far as you knew no one else on the team was going to this party, so it would be the perfect opportunity to cross him off the list.

The party sucked; it was way too crowded and the music choices were awful. Not to mention, the house was a mess. It made the volleyball house look spotless in comparison. It worked in your favor, though, as Tanaka was more than happy to take you up on your suggestion to chill in his car.

“Dude I thought frat parties were supposed to be the best,” he said, closing the car door behind him.

“Did you see the bathroom? That shit had to be a biohazard,” you replied.

Tanaka laughed and nodded. “So gross. Sorry I dragged you here.”

“No worries, I wanted to,” you replied. You gave him a faux shy look. “I just wanted to hangout with you, honestly.”

Tanaka perked up. “Really?”

“Really.” And since being so honest worked the first time, you figure why not just go for it again. “Would it be weird if I said I was trying to get in your pants.”

Tanaka blinked at you, certain he didn’t hear you right. “You wanna get in my pants?”

You laughed and nodded. “Yeah, is that a bad thing?”

He shook his head. “No that’s a good thing! A great thing.”

“So...” your eyes flicked down to his lap. “Can I?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?” you replied. “We are in a dark spot. Your windows are tinted. No one will see.” You leaned in a little further, letting him peek down your shirt. “It will be fun, don’t you think?”

Tanaka did not need any convincing. Fucking his hot manager in his car? He may have dreamed about this exact scenario. Literally. Tanaka pushed back his seat as far as it would go and helped you climb on top. The way he kissed you was so similar to Noya you had to bite back a laugh.

You wasted no time pulling your top off, which Tanaka was very happy about. His face was in your tits before you could even get your shirt fully off. He sucked at the sensitive skin, flicking your nipples with his tongue. His hands gripped your tits roughly, but not unpleasantly. You rocked your hips against his, letting out a hum of pleasure. Tanaka was already hard underneath you.

“I could die happy right now,” he mumbled against your tits, making you laugh.

“At least fuck me first,” you replied, half joking. But also half serious because you were on a mission.

Tanaka took that as instruction. “Shit, I got you.” He pulled his cock out of his pants then cursed. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Don’t worry, I brought one.” You fished it out of your purse and handed it over.

“Damn you really were trying to get in my pants huh?”

You smiled. “Maybe.”

Tanaka rolled the condom on, then pushed your skirt up and underwear to the side. He let his tip run through the slick before slowly pressing into you. He hissed a little, feeling your pussy suck him in. Once he was all the way in, you pressed your hands against his chested and rolled your hips.

“Fuck, just like that,” Tanaka groaned, watching where his cock disappeared inside you. His hands ran along your hips and ass, helping you rock yourself on him. He leaned in, continuing to suck on your tits. The car windows fogged, the small space filled with the sound of your breathless moans and his cock thrusting into your wet pussy.

Tanaka wasn’t one to make the woman do all the work, so he planted his feet on the car floor bucked his hips up to meet yours. The deep spot he hit made your head fall back. “Tana-nngh-” your words were cut off by a cry of pleasure. You creamed around him, setting him over the edge. He spilled into the condom while groaning into your chest.

“Tanaka, can you do something for me?” you asked once you caught your breath. He was still buried inside you.

“I’d do anything you ask me right now, not gonna lie,” He replied.

You laughed, even though he wasn’t joking. “Don’t tell anyone we hooked up. I just don’t want the other guys judging me, you know?”

“It’s in the vault,” Tanaka replied seriously. “And if you ever want to do that again, please call me.”

Two down, seven to go.

Your next opportunity didn’t come until about a month later. You were alone with Asahi in the library studying for midterms coming up. “I need a break,” Asahi sighed, pushing his books away from him.

There was your opening. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” You replied. “My roommate is away right now. Wanna go back to my dorm and watch a movie?” You gave him a look that hinted that maybe it wasn’t just a movie on your mind.

Asahi blushed. “I-I don’t want to intrude.”

You waved him off. “You won’t be. C’mon it will be fun.” With that, you both packed up your things and headed to your dorm. You told Asahi he could sit on your bed while you set up the movie. He sat on the edge of your bed, looking a little nervous. It made you laugh that such a large, handsome man was easily flustered. “Relax, Asahi, you can lay down if you want.”

You hopped on the bed, laying down in front of him. You were in the spooning position, but not touching. You rectified that by slowing drifting closer to him. When your ass met his front, you wiggled as innocently as you possible could. You could feel Asahi shift nervously, though he unmistakably pressed closer to you. It wasn’t long before you could feel something hard poking at your ass.

“I can feel that, Asahi,” you teased.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I didn’t mean-”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, “I don’t mind.” You reached back, taking his hand in yours and leading it down into your leggings. “Maybe this will make you feel better.” You guided his hand to your pussy, letting him feel your wetness. He let out a low groan. You took your hand away, letting him touch you how he pleased.

“Do... do you want me to...” Asahi trailed off as he continued to play with your pussy.

“I think you know what I want, Asahi,” you purred his name. He cursed into your hair, breathing in the sweet scent. He brushed it aside, kissing your neck a little. You titled your head, allowing him better access. Then you got needy, so you craned your head back, allowing you two to kiss. He a gentle kisser, sweet and passionate. His hand slid up your shirt, giving your breasts a few soft squeezes. “Do you have a condom?”

Asahi’s cheeks tinted but he nodded. “In my wallet, yeah.” He fished his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling the little foil out. You wiggled your ass agains him, urging him on. He slipped his cock out of his pants, rolling the condom on. His tip nudged at your aching hole. “You sure?”

“Please.” Asahi slid into you slowly, letting you adjust. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you to him while he thrusted into you. You arched your back, getting him deeper.

“Y-you feel good,” he mumbled against your neck. You quickly learned that Asahi was not shy about moaning. Hell, he was practically whining as your swirled your hips. He was so close to your ear, the sound giving you goose bumps. It was fucking hot. When he slid his hand down and started rubbing your clit it was your tone to moan.

“Asahi don’t stop,” you said breathlessly.

“Fuck I think I’m gonna-” His voice broke off in a low groan as you felt his cock twitch inside you. He didn’t stop fucking you even as he came, which pushed you over the edge. A warm rush filled your body as you finished. You finally turned around, giving him a soft peck. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“Don’t be silly, I really enjoyed it,” you assure him. “But if it’s okay with you, let’s not tell anyone we did this. You know how the guys are. If they found out...”

Asahi nodded in agreement. He definitely didn’t need his teammates knowing he came quick. “I promise I won’t tell.”

A few days later, you were sitting in practice, reflecting on how your strategy to get through the 6 guys left. It was half way through the first semester and you only had 3 done. You weren’t too concerned yet, but you knew you couldn’t keep letting so much time pass between each guy. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t notice Tsukki come up beside you.

“I know what you’re up to.”

You startled, giving him a confused look. “Huh?”

“You’ve been hooking up with the guys on the team.” It wasn’t a question.

You tried to keep your voice even, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tsukki rolled his eyes. “Don’t play stupid. I saw you leave the library with Asahi last week. Then earlier in the semester you were sneaking around parties with Noya and Tanaka.”

You raised a brow. “You stalking me or something?”

“We are in the same friend group at a small university, it’s not that hard to put together. If you have half a brain at least,” Tsukki replied. “I just don’t understand why.”

You let out an annoyed sigh. Your back was to the wall, you had to tell him. “It’s for a bet. To see if I can hook up with the entire team by the end of the year.” It felt stupid saying it out loud, especially with Tsukki’s judgmental eyes watching you.

“So why are you hiding it? I’m sure these idiots would be more than happy to sleep with you for whatever reason,” Tsukki replied.

“I can’t it’s part of the rules,” you explained, “So if you tell anybody I’m totally fucked.”

“I’d say you’re already quite fucked,” Tsukki replied with a shit eating grin.

“Haha,” you replied dryly, rolling your eyes. “But seriously, don’t blow this for me.” He went to open his mouth but you cut him off. “And no blow job jokes.” His mouth shut, but you could see the gears turning.

“So you kinda owe me a favor, don’t you?”

“If you’re going to ask me to sleep with you, don’t bother. It’s already a part of the plan unfortunately,” you replied.

“Ouch,” he yawned. “But that’s not what am I asking. At least not exactly. I want a three way with Yamaguchi.”

You were shocked but also not at the request. You knew they were best friends, but they seemed like they would be completely different in bed. “Have you told Yams about me hooking up with the other guys?”

“No, I figured I’d keep my mouth shut until I had more information,” Tsukki replied. “But I’ve been trying to help Yams lose his virginity. This seems like the perfect opportunity.”

“Wow what a selfless friend you are,” you replied sardonically

Tsukki shrugged. “I can admit I want to try a three way for selfish reasons, too. What guy doesn’t.”

“And you think Yams wants to lose his virginity with you there?”

“Yeah, he’ll be less nervous. I promise I won’t tell him or anyone else about your stupid bet if you do this.” You agreed. Although Tsukki was annoying, you couldn’t deny that a 2 for 1 would help a lot. You just had to text your friend to make sure it was within the rules.

Y/f/n: hmm I think as long as neither of them no what it’s for, one three way can be allowed

Y/n: Tsukki knows. that asshole figured it out. I have to use my get out of jail card on him -_-

y/n: but Yams doesn’t know, Tsukki will make up some other story to tell him

y/f/n: As long as Tsukki doesn’t tell Yams and no one else finds out then I think it’s fine. Good luck with that lmao

A week later you were in Tsukki and Yams’ shared dorm room. They’d pushed their beds together for the occasion, which was honestly quite funny. Tsukki looked almost bored and Yamaguchi looked nervous. Typical.

One thing led to another and you were on their combined beds kissing Yamaguchi while Tsukki pulled your bottoms off. For his lack of experience, Yams was a good kisser. Definitely a little nervous, but sweet. You went at his pace, twisting your fingers through his hair making his breath catch.

“Watch this, Yamaguchi. You have to get her nice and wet before putting it in,” Tsukki told his friend. His fingers were rough and warm as he dragged them through your lips. He rubbed circles over your clit, making sure his friend knew that spot was very important. His long fingers easily slid inside you, pressing spots that were hard for you to reach. You let out a little gasp, which made him smirk. “Take over for me Yams, you gotta practice.”

They swapped places, Tsukki slipping his cock out when he reached you. “Suck me off.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A please would be nice.”

Tsukki gave you a fake smile. “Please suck me off.” You didn't bother arguing, taking his cock in your mouth instead. He was annoyingly big. Maybe the biggest you had yet. Asahi may have been thicker, but Tsukki was definitely longer. You used your hand on his base while your lips and tongue focused on his tip. Meanwhile, Yams was getting the hang of fingering you. He copied Tsukki exactly, his whole face and chest flushed at the sight of your wet pussy sucking in his fingers. Your moan vibrated through Tsuki’s dick as he hit a sweet spot.

“Fuck,” the blond cursed, pulling out of you. He didn’t want to cum just yet. “Move Yams, let me show you how to fuck her.”

Yamaguchi’s face flushed a deeper shade of red. “Okay.” Tsukki spread your legs open after slipping a condom on. He pressed inside you slowly and you so badly did not what to gratify him with a moan, but you couldn’t help but let one slip.

“Sh-should I put it in her mouth?” Yams asked.

Tsukki shook his head. “You won’t last. You need to be hard so you can fuck her.” Yams nodded, watching his friend roll his hips into you. “I’ll make her cum so she’ll be nice and sensitive when it’s your turn.” Tsukki rocked his hips against yours, holding your thighs wide open for him. You hated to admit it, but it did feel really good. His cock, like his fingers, hit spots deep inside you. His thrusts were surprisingly heavy for his thinner frame. A damn near devious smily spread across his face as he felt your pussy clenching around him. He rubbed your clit with quick circles, finishing you off.

“Fuck!” you cried, your head falling back on the pillow. Pleasure pulsed through you as Tsukki fucked you through your high. He pulled himself out of you with a hiss, stopping himself from finishing. He wanted to do that in your mouth.

“Your turn Yams.” Tsukki yanked his friend down between your legs. Yams cock ached as he look at your fucked out expression. He couldn’t believe he was going to lose his virginity to the hot older manager. He said a silent prayer that he didn’t cum the second he put it in.

You sensed his nerves and comforted him. “Don’t worry, Yams, you’ll do good. Let me.” You took the condom out of his shaking hands and rolled it onto him. He whimpered a little, sensitive to even your touch. “Whenever you’re ready, yeah?”

He nodded, holding your thighs like Tsukki did and slowly pressed inside you. He slid in easily, thanks to Tsukki. He let out a whine feeling your warm, wet walls squeeze him. He tried not to focus to hard on that as he rolled his hips into you. You were extra sensitive, just as Tsukki said, making each movement feel extra good.

“So good, Yamaguchi.” You had no problem encouraging the younger guy. You always thought he was sweet. “Doing so good.” Yams blushed and kept it going.

“Now, where were we?” Tsukki asked, an obnoxious ring in his voice. You rolled your eyes at him but took his cock back in your mouth without protested. You took him deeper, urged on by how his composure cracked. Your tongue ran along the vein on the underside, making him curse. Yams continued to rut desperately into you, making you moan onto Tsukki. You emphasized the sound both for Yams’ confidences and to break down Tsukki.

Tsukki used his free hands to play with your tits. He gave your nipples a hard squeeze, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made you cum again. Yams cried out your name, summing the second your walls pulsed around him. Tsukki’s hips twitched as your lips tightened, spilling into your mouth. Everyone was a panting mess by the end.

“Thanks, y/n,” Yams said as you finished getting dressed. “And I won’t tell anybody, I swear.” You exchanged a look with Tsukki, who nodded a silent agreement that he would continue to keep his mouth shut. You couldn’t help but smile as you left; you were over halfway done.

You went the rest of that semester without crossing anyone else off the list. You were okay with that, though, since you were still on track. Your next opportunity came during the last week of the winter break. Practice had started again, but not everyone was back to campus yet meaning they were smaller. And meaning Hinata was more desperate for someone to stay and throw him extra tosses.

“Sure Hinata, I’ll help you out,” you agreed. Everyone else had cleared out of the gym, glad to not be the one Hinata targeted. You tossed him for awhile, admiring the strength of the small first year. He was the biggest wildcard to you. You weren't sure if he was gonna be really good or really bad.

“Ugh, I need to get stronger,” Hinata grumbled after his last spike. It looked plenty strong to you, but it gave you an idea.

“I've heard increasing testosterone can make you stronger,” you replied, tossing up another ball for him.

“Really? How can I do that?”

“Having is sex is one way.” Hinata dropped out of the air, the ball you tossed bonking him in the head. You laughed at the surprised look on his face.

“Sex?”

“Have you not heard of it?” you teased.

Hinata grumbled, “I have! I just didn’t know it could help like that.”

You shrugged. “That’s just what I’ve heard at least.” You took a step closer to Hinata, looking him in the eye. “We should give it a try.”

Hinata’s eyes widened. “Wait are you serious? Like right now?”

“Yeah! Let’s do it and see if your spike gets better.” You knew he couldn’t resist the offer, which he did not. Hinata practically pounced on you. Have sex with he pretty manager AND improve his spike? Sounds good to him. You were all over each other as you got down to the floor. Clothes flying off as you went. You weren’t sure why you felt so particularly excited, maybe it was the risk of getting caught. All you knew is that you suddenly wanted Hinata badly.

Hinata was just as eager with you, his hands all over you. His kisses were a little sloppy with need, but you loved it. Your tongues mixed slid your hands over his toned torso. Hinata bunched up his t shirt and put it under his head like pillow. He hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you up his body. “Sit on my face?”

How could you say no to that. The second your pussy made contact with his mouth he was all over it. His tongue pressing into your soaked entrance, then his lips sucking your aching clit. You forgot yourself, rocking your hips against his face, though Hinata didn’t mind one bit. He loved how your plush thighs squeezed his face as you chased your high.

It didn’t take long for it strike you, swift and strong as lightning. You bit down on your lip as your moaned his name, trying to not alert anyone who may be walking outside what was going on in the gym. Hinata lapped up every bit of release before you slid off him. In an instant he had you flipped over, with him now on top.

“You taste good,” he grinned, his lips shining with your release. You pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on him. “I think I have a condom in my gym bag, give me a sec.” And he really meant ‘a sec.’ Hinata was back at one top of you in a flash, rolling a condom onto his hard length. You didn’t get how he was so damn fast.

You both let out content sighs as Hinata pressed into you. Hinata fucked you hard and fast. He just couldn’t hold himself back when he felt your velvety walls wrapped around him. You were not surprised by his energy in the slightest, but you were surprised by his strength.

“Nngh- Hinata! Right there,” you moaned. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him close to you. With just a few more heavy thrusts, your orgasm was milking his cock. Hinata’s head fell back while he filled the condom with his release. A mixture of a moan and a whine slipped from his parted lips.

When you were both redressed, Hinata was already asking for a toss to see if worked. You couldn't help but laugh. Only Hinata would be thinking about volleyball after sex. You indulged him, tossing the ball, which he rocketed over the net.

“Holy shit! You were right y/n, that was so much better!’” Hinata beamed.

“I knew you could do it!” you replied, “But can I ask you not to tell anyone we just did that. If the other players found out, they may pester me to help them like that too.” Hinata agreed, happy to have his only little secret weapon for better spikes.

6 down, 3 left.

A week or so later, Hinata and Kageyama were bickering in practice, as they do. However, Kageyama seemed more annoyed than usual, so you decided to check in with him after practice to make sure everything was okay.

“Oh, yeah Hinata’s just been... particularly annoying,” he replied, seeming oddly nervous. Or maybe uncomfortable.

“Particularly? What do you mean?”

Kageyama shifted. “Well, he's been bragging about hooking up with this girl...” You stiffened, wondering if Hinata spilled the beans.

“What about it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

“I thought he was bull shitting at first because he wouldn’t tell me who it was. But then he started going into a gross amount of detail and I knew he wasn’t lying.” You let out a sigh of relief, which Kageyama misread. “I’m sorry that was probably weird to share.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Why does it bother you so much, though?”

Kageyama blushed a little. “Well, it’s kinda of embarrassing, but Hinata and I compete about everything. He’s hooked up with 4 girls this year and I’ve only 3. I guess it’s kinda fucked up to compete over that.” No more fucked up then your own competition, you thought.

“Not at all,” you assured him, “Friends do shit like that all the time. I’m sure those girls would have hooked up with you both either way.” In your case with Hinata, you knew it was true. They were nice, good looking guys, who wouldn't want to? “Why don’t you tell Hinata you hooked up with someone else.”

“Lying would be so lame. If he realized, I’d never live it down,” Kageyama replied.

“Who said you had to lie?”

Kageyama’s brows furrowed then raised when he realized what you mean. “Are you saying...”

“I’m saying, we hook up and then you can tell Hinata you’re back to being tied without lying,” you finished for him. “We don’t have to tell anyone either. Hinata not telling you is the perfect excuse to not tell him. He won’t have to know it was a favor.”

“Seriously? Are you sure y/n? I didn’t tell you to make you feel like you had to,” Kageyama replied. He was trying to be polite but you could tell the wheels were already spinning in his head.

“I’m sure. I’d do it even if it wasn’t for a favor.” Kageyama blushed.

“Thank you so much.” No, thank you, you thought.

And so a few days later you found yourself in Kageyama’s dorm, sitting on his lap with your back pressed to his front. An interesting request, but you didn’t deny it. And now you were very glad you didn’t

“Fuck Kageya- oh,” your voice was a strangled moan as he played with your pussy. His calloused fingers moved expertly over your most sensitive spots. You felt almost like his opponent. You could tell he was observing you closely, noting every spot that made you tick. The whines that escaped your lips meant he found the perfect pressure to rub your aching clit. Your hips bucking showed him the sweet spot inside you that drove you crazy.

“You like that?” it was more of a statement than a question, really. He knew you loved it. All you could do was nod. Kageyama had both of his arms wrapped around you from behind. His middle two fingers on one hand plunged into your pussy, pressing your g spot. The other hand rolling your clit, driving you crazy.

If it didn’t feel so good, you’d almost be embarrassed at how fast you came. Kageyama felt it immediately, letting you fuck yourself on his fingers. You ground against him, his erection pressing into your ass. It made you both desperate for more.

“Need you,” you gasped, reaching back to give him a squeeze through his pants. Kageyama groaned deliciously before pulling his sweats down just enough to free himself. He was riding high from just making you cum and couldn’t wait to feel your walls squeezing him. After he rolled the condom on, he angled your hips back so he could slide in.

“Fuck,” he hissed. Even better than he imagined. You couldn’t help but immediately start rolling your hips. Kageyama sat back a moment, watching you fuck yourself on his cock. He squeezed your hips and ass, keeping your rhythm steady as you rocked your hips.

He spread your ass a little, a gasp escaping your lips as you feel him spit on you. You did not expect that from Kageyama. His thumb circled the tight rim of your ass before pressing inside.

You cried out something incoherent as the pleasure you felt heightened. Each roll of your hips felt extra intense, now that he occupied both holes. As if that wasn’t enough, Kageyama reached forward to toy with your clit again. Your body surged with pleasure as you squeezed around his cock and thumb. Even as your orgasm hit, the pleasure didn’t subside. If anything it was build and -

“Oh god,” you whine as a gush of release left you. The composure Kageyama had been holding crumbled at the sight. He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he came. Even lost in his own pleasure, he never faltered, letting you ride out your high completely. You didn’t move from his lap when you finished, not trusting your legs to hold you. “Holy shit Kageyama,” was all you could manage.

“Was that good?” This time the question sounded genuine. You almost laughed, as it sounded like how he asked the spikers if they liked his set.

“Very good.”

Two to go.

You debated saying fuck the whole competition and going back to Kageyama for seconds. It wasn’t against the rules, technically, but your competitive spirit kept you from straying from the goal. Besides you really wanted that $500. Still, you hadn’t pursued either Sugawara or Daichi yet, knowing you’d have to be careful with them. They weren't as easily... won over as the others. Little did you know, Sugawara had his sights set on you,

“Hey, y/n, need any help?” he asked. You were in the team’s storage room, taking account of all the equipment. It was part of your job to make sure everything was in good shape and put in orders for more as needed. Normally, your friend and co-manager helped you with the task, but she was sick, leaving it to you.

“That would be great, if you don’t mind,” you replied. Sugawara joined in organizing and taking stock of everything. The two of you chatted easily as you worked. Sugawara was one of your favorite players on the team. He was incredible kind and you appreciated his sense of humor.

“Hey, y/n, have you ever had like a bucket list? Or something like that?” Sugawara asked.

“Sure there’s a list of things I’d like to do,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Well... I’ve always thought it would be fun to hook up with someone in the team room. I guess that makes me a stereotypical jock, huh?”

You laughed. “Oh? So did you only offer to help in hopes of getting laid?”

“No I swear, I didn’t,” he laughed, “But this does look pretty bad now.”

“It’s all good,” you replied, “I’d be happy to help.” If only he knew how much he was help you.

Suga smiled. “I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He pressed you agains the wall, gently, and kissed you. You welcomed his soft, warm lips. His kiss was sweet and soft, but there was a hunger behind it that made your stomach flip. The next thing you knew, Suga was on his knees.

“Can I?” his warm, brow eyes looking up at you pleadingly. You nodded and he hooked his fingers into your leggings sliding them off you. Suga put one leg over his shoulder, placing a soft kisses on your inner thigh. Once he’d teased you enough, he went for your pussy. He had a gentler approach, almost like making out with your cunt, but it still drove you wild.

“Suga,” you let out a content sigh. Your hands tangled in his hair, pushing him further into you. Suga hummed approvingly, loving the pretty noises you made. Your leg went weak as Suga sucked on your clit, but his grip kept your firmly upright.

“Cum for me, pretty,” Suga murmured. With the flick of his tongue you did just that. Breathless moans fell from your lips as a warm surge of pleasure filled you. The second you finished you were pulling Suga up to kiss. You tasted yourself on his lips, kissing him deeply. Your hands went to his shorts, pulling at them. Suga chuckled at you. “Lemme.”

He pulled a condom out of his pocket before slipping his cock out. You hugged him tightly as he pushed into you. Suga rocked into you slowly at first. You kissed his neck, murmuring how good it felt. Suga hooked his hand under your knee, pressing it up so he can get deeper. The angle urged a moan from you that made his cock ache. “Feel good?”

“Yes,” you gasped into his neck. You dug your nails into him as you reached the limits of your sensitivity. He continued as he felt your pussy tightening around him. He was panting and moaning in your ear, a sound you could only describe as pretty.

“That’s it let go for me,” he urged. You couldn't help but comply, your body going slack as your second orgasm washed over you. Sugawara sounded even prettier when he was cumming. His hips stuttered as he released, holding you close. You held each other as you caught your breath.

“This will stay between us, right?” you asked.

Suga smiled. “It will be our little secret.”

Just one left.

It was spring break and the end of the school year was on the horizon. You had a lot of big assignments due at the end of the year, opting to stay on campus to get them done. You found out Daichi was doing the same, leaving him alone at the team house for a week. You knew this was probably your only shot.

You offered to work with him so he wouldn’t be alone at the house, which he happily accepted. You spent the days being each others moral support getting through your tough assignments and insuring the other person took breaks. It did help a lot, Daichi was good at keeping you on task and you were good at helping him not over stress himself. It was the last night of break and you both finally finished your assignments. The relief was palpable, but so was the tension. You got the sense that Daichi was flirting with you at times, but he was hard to read. You were anxious to finally finish your other assignment. You knew if it didn’t happen now, it probably wouldn’t at all.

“So how should we celebrate?” you asked. You were sitting on this counter, swinging your legs idly.

Daichi looked at you, catching something suggestive in your voice. “Sounds like you have an idea.” He held your gaze in a way that felt like an invitation.

“Well, I have been thinking about something...” you trailed off, smirking a little.

Daichi stepped closer to you. “Oh? And what is that?”

You leaned forward slightly, which drew Daichi closer to you. “Might be easier to show you.”

“I hope you do.” He was standing between your leg then. There was only another beat of tense silence before you pulled him in. He gripped your hips, kissing you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting Daichi control the kiss. “Wrap your legs around me.” When you did, Daichi lifted you off the counter.

He carried you to the bedroom, placing you gently on the bed. You continued to kiss as clothing came off. Daichi slipped his fingers between your legs, sliding them into your pussy. He pumped them into you, stretching your pussy and making it slick. “You want more?” he asked against your lips.

You nodded and he pulled a condom out of his bedside table. He put it on positioned himself between your legs. Daichi was really thick, maybe thicker than Asahi. Even with him fingering you, it was a stretch. “Fuck you’re tight,” he groaned as he bottomed out. He kissed and sucked your tits as he snapped his hips against yours. Once you got used to it, the stretch felt good. Your hips bucked up to meet his, pressing him deeper inside you

“S’big,” you whimpered. Daichi pressed on your lower stomach, heightening the sensation of him inside you. His thumb went down to your clit, rubbing circles over it. Your back arched of the bed as a surge of pleasure seized you. Not just pleasure, pleasure and triumph. Your orgasm was heightened with the satisfaction of winning the bet.

Daichi fucked you through your orgasm until his own took him over. He groaned into your, slowing his thrusts to enjoy every last moment. He pulled out when you both finished, rolling over on the bed next to you. “Well I am significantly less stressed now.”

You laughed. “Same.” He had not idea how much stress he just took off your plate. “Would it be okay if we didn’t tell anyone, though? The guys on the team are kinda immature. If they found out...” You let him fill in the blanks of his teammates finding out he hooked up with the manager. He absolutely did not want that mess to happen.

“Absolutely. It stays between us.”

Success.

A few days later you sat with your friend in your dorm filling her in and counting your cash. “I still can’t believe you did it.”

“I know, honestly I’m impressed with myself.”

“Okay but I have to know, how did they do?” You friend has asked you for details along the way, but you insisted on saving it for the end.

“Let me preface this by saying they were all good, and I would hook up with any of them again,” you stated. You explained that Yams was last, mostly just because of his inexperience. You would, however, not mind being with him again one on one and really rocking his world.

“You’re gonna scare the poor guy,” your friend commented.

You grinned, “I think he’d like it. Anyways...” In a surprising turn of events, Daichi was next.

“No way.”

“Yeah I mean it wasn’t bad, but he needs to do more foreplay,” you explained.

“Fair enough.”

Next way Asahi, another surprisingly low 3rd year. You explained that he lost points for cumming quick, but the way he whimpered and moaned was hot so you couldn’t be that mad about it. Next came Tsuki, who you wished could be lower, but alas it was good.

“And his dick was really big. Like the biggest on the team.”

Your friend laughed. “No wonder he’s so cocky.”

Tanaka was next. A solid fuck, no complaints.

“He is super into boobs.”

Your friend rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I think anyone who’s ever met him coulda told you that.”

Next was Suga. “He’s just like... so sweet dude. It was almost kinda romantic.”

“You really need to go on more real dates if you think fucking in the team storage closet is romantic.”

You laughed, “I swear it was! He was best of the third years by far.”

Next was Hinata. “You did WHAT in the gym?” your friend questioned.

“Yeah, I know, I know. Kinda crazy.”

“Very crazy. But please go on.”

“Unsurprisingly, he had tons of energy. But I was surprised by how good he was. I should’ve known better than to underestimate him.”

Next was Nishinoya. “He was so good. And so eager. I just know he’d be super fun in bed the more you get with him.”

“You sure it’s not your crush talking?”

“Shut up. This is all totally objective scientific work.”

“Wait... so does that mean... Kageyama?”

“Yes!” You told her about how he took you by surprise. That he was amazing with his hands and knew exactly how to work you up. And that he made you squirt.

“No fucking way.”

“Believe me, I was shocked too.”

You spent the rest of the night gossiping over the experiences and who you wanted to have a round 2 with.

A/n: this was kinda a convoluted idea and I didn’t really know how to end its lmao. But hope you enjoyed tysm for reading<3

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reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

Text

Something's Gotta Give

Summary: Chip hitchhikes his way away from where his life fell apart. He meets a beautiful woman, you, and his brain, once again, becomes a potato.

Pairing: Chip Taylor x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+), angst

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, mentions of what happened in 68-kill, insecurities, jealousy, boss/employee relationship, happy ending

Word count: 18.7k

a/n: i love me some spencer reid but chip taylor is sooo pathetic it just gets me going

main masterlist

Additional warnings: unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (m receiving), mild consensual degradation

28-year-old Chip Taylor was a mess, to put it simply. After narrowly escaping the chaos of Louisiana, he drove as far as he could on what little gas money he had, before resorting to hitchhiking. His path was aimless, following wherever someone would take him, until he somehow ended up in Colorado. In Aurora, he found a shelter where he could sleep while he searched for a job.

Now, with his face healed and dressed in some half-decent clothes—no longer stained with blood—Chip wandered the streets of Aurora, unsure of what his next move would be, but grateful for the temporary calm.

Chip quickly discovered that his search for work wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. Every place he walked into seemed to size him up before kindly, but firmly, turning him away. His stomach sank a little more with each rejection, though he tried to brush it off and keep moving forward.

At a diner, the older woman behind the counter smiled apologetically, her eyes flicking over his application. “I’m sorry, hon. We’re really looking for someone with experience in the kitchen. It’s just so busy around here, you know? Best of luck, though.”

Chip nodded, his heart sinking, but he mustered a smile. “Thanks, I understand.”

At a hardware store, the manager gave him a once-over, scratching his chin. “You ever worked with tools before? We need someone who knows their way around equipment, construction, that kind of thing.”

Chip shook his head, feeling the weight of his own uselessness. “No, but I can learn fast.”

The man offered a tight-lipped smile. “I’m sure you can, but we need someone who can hit the ground running. Sorry, pal.”

Even the local gas station didn’t seem to have room for him. The young guy at the counter barely looked up from his phone as he spoke. “Yeah, we’re fully staffed right now. You could leave your number, but… I wouldn’t count on anything soon.”

Chip stood there for a moment, the rejection almost stinging more because of how little the guy cared. He turned away without leaving his number.

By the time the sun began to set, Chip was exhausted from walking up and down the streets of Aurora, facing rejection after rejection. His new clothes felt heavier with every polite smile and apologetic glance, and he wondered how much longer he could keep this up.

Chip wandered across the neon-lit streets, his eyes catching the glow from a sign that cast an inviting red hue over the sidewalk. He stopped to take it in: Lovers of Today. The name was bold, practically daring someone like him to step inside and forget his troubles for a while.

He didn’t have a cent to his name, but at least he could probably score a glass of water, and the idea of sitting somewhere that wasn’t a shelter felt like a brief escape.

As he pushed the door open, the warmth of the dive bar’s dim lighting greeted him. The red neon heart in the window flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls. The smell of old wood, cigarette smoke, and stale beer hung in the air, but Chip didn’t mind. It was a welcome change from the streets outside.

He plopped down on a worn stool at the bar, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he surveyed the room. The bar was cluttered but lively, bottles lined up with care, their glass shimmering under the soft red glow. Music hummed low in the background, a melancholic tune that fit the slow pulse of the room. A man played pool in the back, his movements lazy and unhurried, while a few scattered patrons sat at tables, lost in their own thoughts.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” A melodic voice pulled Chip from his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

He turned to face the bartender, and for a moment, his brain seemed to short-circuit. There she was—easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. That realization sent a jolt of fear through him, more intense than any excitement he might have felt. Her soft, playful smile made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

You noticed his hesitation, his wide-eyed look, and leaned forward slightly, tilting your head. “…Can I get you anything?” you asked again, this time with a bit of a laugh in your voice, clearly entertained by his flustered state.

“Uh—um, yeah, just a water?” Chip finally managed, though he cursed himself for sounding so awkward.

You smiled, the amusement twinkling in your eyes. “Sure thing, sugar,” you replied, effortlessly cool as you turned to get his drink, leaving Chip to collect his scattered thoughts.

You placed the glass down in front of him with another smile. “Here you go.”

“Th-thanks,” Chip stammered, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his nerves getting the better of him.

You winked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, before turning to tend to your other customers. Chip couldn’t help himself—he leaned up slightly, watching you as you bent down to grab a beer from the fridge. His eyes lingered on your curves, his mind briefly distracted from the pit of anxiety that had been gnawing at him all day.

After you served the other patrons, you made your way back to the bar, your eyes flicking over the handsome, if not charmingly pathetic, man in front of you. His awkwardness was almost endearing.

“Anything else?” you asked, putting away freshly cleaned glasses.

“No, just water is fine,” Chip said, though the way he gulped and avoided looking at how your top clung to your chest told you he was flustered.

You sighed softly, setting down the glass you’d been holding. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You look like you’ve had a tough day.”

Chip’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled heavily, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “Yeah. I have, but I, uh… I don’t really have any money on me.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your gaze softening with understanding. “I see…” You turned around, and Chip’s heart sank, deflating even more as he stared at his water. He really was such a loser.

But then you spun back toward him, setting a nice cold beer in front of him with a wink. “It’s on the house, sugar,” you said, your smile making the tension in Chip’s chest ease just a little. “In exchange, you can tell me what’s got you so down?”

Chip blinked at the beer, surprised by the unexpected kindness. His lips twitched into a small, grateful smile as he glanced up at you.

“Really? You want to hear about my day?” Chip asked, a bit incredulous, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. He wasn’t used to someone actually wanting to listen, especially not someone like you.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a sweet smile that seemed to melt away some of the guardedness he’d been holding onto. “Tell me what’s got you so down.”

For a moment, Chip hesitated. Part of him wondered if he should just shrug it off, make something up, or dodge the question entirely. He couldn’t exactly spill everything—the illegal activities, the women, and all the madness that led to his escape from Louisiana. That was a story no one needed to hear. But maybe he could share the rest of it, the overwhelming feeling of being lost, broken, and more useless than ever.

“Well,” he began, keeping his gaze on the beer in front of him, fingers tracing the rim of the bottle. “It’s been a rough few weeks, to be honest. I, uh, kinda lost everything back home. Decided to leave, and… here I am, trying to start fresh, I guess.”

He took a sip of the beer, the cold liquid soothing his parched throat. “I thought I’d find a job, but, you know, turns out I’m not exactly qualified for… well, anything. Been walking all over town getting turned away.”

You leaned in a little, listening intently, your face soft with empathy. He glanced at you nervously, his words fumbling but flowing now that the gates had cracked open.

“I don’t know, it’s just… I keep messing up, everywhere I go. Feels like I can’t catch a break.” He paused, staring into his beer again, his voice lowering. “Feels like maybe I don’t deserve one.”

You frowned slightly, your heart tugged by the self-deprecating tone in his voice. “Hey,” you said, your voice kind but firm, “don’t say that. We all have rough patches. It doesn’t mean you’re not worth something. It just means things are tough right now. Doesn’t mean it’ll always be that way.”

Chip looked up at you, surprised by the sincerity in your voice. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected kindness from anyone, much less a stranger. His lips twitched into a faint smile, the first real one he’d felt in days.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, genuinely. “I needed to hear that.”

You smiled at him again, that same warm and genuine expression softening your features. “Anytime, sugar.” A slight pause lingered between you before you leaned in just a bit, voice dropping to a playful tone. “Tell me though, do you have any experience bartending?”

Chip shook his head quickly, a little embarrassed. “No, not really,” he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Hmm… are you strong?” you giggled, clearly having some fun with him.

Chip instinctively looked down at his arms, making you swoon just a bit as the way his muscles strained against the fabric of his sleeves caught your eye.

“I guess?” he said, though his voice carried uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure if he should be bragging.

You laughed softly. “Do you scare easily?”

“Uhhh…” Chip blinked, clearly unsure how to answer that, given everything he’d been through recently.

“Do you think you could be a bouncer?” you asked, leaning forward a little more. “Kick people out for being assholes?”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What are you asking?”

“I’m trying to offer you a job here,” you said with a smile, your words hanging in the air like an unexpected lifeline.

Chip’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching in his throat. “A job? Here?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had walked in hoping for nothing more than a glass of water, and now here you were, offering him a shot at something better.

You nodded, your expression kind but still playful. “Yeah, I need someone to keep an eye on things. It’s a dive bar, after all, and we get our fair share of rowdy customers. Plus, it’d be nice to have a strong pair of arms around, don’t you think?”

Chip felt a wave of relief mixed with cautious optimism wash over him. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was a start. A chance. And right now, that was all he needed.

“I—yeah. I could do that,” he said, his voice steadier now. “I mean, I’ll do my best.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with his answer. “That’s all I’m asking, sugar. Can you start tomorrow?”

Chip stared at you in disbelief, unable to suppress the small, hopeful smile forming on his lips as he nodded. Maybe, just maybe, this was the break he’d been waiting for.

That night, Chip walked back to the shelter with a smile tugging at his lips, something that had been a rare visitor in recent weeks. The cool night air felt refreshing against his skin as he moved through the dimly lit streets of Aurora, replaying the events of the evening in his head. He couldn’t quite believe it—after days of dead-end rejections, here he was with a job offer.

And it wasn’t just any job; it was from you. A beautiful, confident woman who had seemed to see something in him, even when he wasn’t sure what he had left to offer. Your kindness had caught him off guard, leaving him feeling a mix of gratitude and something he couldn’t quite place—maybe hope? It had been so long since he’d felt even a flicker of optimism.

But as much as he tried to bask in the good fortune of the moment, there was a nagging feeling creeping at the edges of his mind. Ominous, maybe. It felt almost too lucky to have met you and been offered a job so quickly. Nothing in his life had ever come easy, and now that something finally had, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a catch.

Still, for now, Chip allowed himself to enjoy the victory. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind wandering to what tomorrow might bring. It wasn’t much—a job as a bouncer at a dive bar—but it was something. It was a start. Maybe he could pull his life together after all.

As he neared the shelter, his smile widened just a bit, despite that faint feeling of unease lingering in the back of his mind. For the first time in a long time, he had something to look forward to.

—

The next day, Chip walked into the bar, nerves buzzing in his chest as he stepped through the doors of Lovers of Today for his first day. The place was quieter now, with the neon signs flickering softly, casting their warm red glow over the room. Behind the counter, there you were again, moving gracefully as you set up for the night. Your presence instantly caught his eye, and before he knew it, that same anxious excitement was bubbling up inside him.

You looked up when he entered, smiling sweetly in his direction. “Hey there, sugar! Glad you made it,” you said, your voice warm and welcoming.

Chip swallowed, nodding as he approached the bar. “Yeah, of course,” he replied, his hands already feeling clammy with anticipation. He’d thought about this moment all night, and now that he was here, standing in front of you again, he felt even more flustered than before.

You gestured for him to come closer, pulling him next to you behind the bar. "Alright, so here's the rundown," you began, your tone casual but professional. You started explaining the basics of what you expected from him—keeping an eye on the patrons, making sure things didn’t get out of hand, and if someone got too rowdy, he'd be the one to step in.

But as you talked, Chip found it harder and harder to focus. You were standing so close that he could catch the faint, intoxicating scent of your perfume. It wasn’t overpowering, just enough to make his head spin a little, like a soft whisper of musk and something sweet that lingered in the air. The way you moved, the subtle brush of your arm against his as you pointed things out, made his concentration slip further.

“So, if someone refuses to pay or starts causing trouble…” you continued, but Chip’s attention wavered as his eyes darted to your lips when you spoke, then back to the glass you were polishing.

He blinked, snapping himself out of his haze for a moment. “Right, uh, got it,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he had actually retained anything useful. His heart was pounding, but not from nerves about the job. No, this was something else entirely—something about you had his pulse racing.

You paused, tilting your head slightly, a knowing glimmer in your eyes as you glanced at him. "You listening, Chip? Or am I gonna have to repeat myself?"

“Sorry,” Chip stammered, embarrassed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m listening. Just—uh—it’s a lot to take in, I guess.”

You chuckled softly, leaning just a little closer. “It’s okay, sugar. You’ll get the hang of it. Just focus on keeping things calm, and don’t worry, I’ll be here if you need help.”

Chip nodded, forcing himself to concentrate, but the scent of you, the warmth of your presence, made it feel like the room was spinning just a bit. He knew he had to pull it together—he couldn’t let his head get lost every time he was around you. But right now, standing next to you, it was harder than he’d ever imagined.

Chip’s first night went off without a hitch. The bar’s steady rhythm felt almost soothing to him, and by the time his second week rolled around, he had settled into a routine. He’d met the other bartenders and bouncers, learned the ins and outs of the place, and even found himself relaxing a little more with each shift. Nothing too wild had happened yet—just the usual drunken antics that were easily manageable.

That was, until that one night.

It started out like any other, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clinking of glasses and the soft pulse of music in the background. Chip had been stationed near the entrance, keeping an eye on things, when the commotion began. At first, it was just muffled noise, some guy raising his voice near the bar. But then Chip heard your voice, calm but firm, cutting through the clamor.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t serve you anymore,” you said, keeping your cool as you leaned against the bar. “You’ve had enough for the night.”

That’s when the man—clearly drunk, clearly angry—decided to escalate things. His voice grew louder, slurred words laced with irritation. “You can’t cut me off, bitch! I paid good money, and I’m not done drinking!”

Chip’s body tensed as he watched from a distance, the sudden surge of protectiveness coursing through him. He felt his heart rate pick up as the drunk man leaned closer to you, his gestures growing more aggressive. Chip knew he had to step in. He had to protect you.

No, he reminded himself, forcing his mind to stay clear. Protect the bar. That’s your job. But despite the internal reminder, the thought of someone yelling at you, someone daring to treat you like that, sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins.

He moved quickly, weaving through the tables and patrons until he was by your side. The drunk man was still fuming, his face red and twisted in frustration. Chip didn’t wait for an invitation.

“Hey,” Chip said, his voice low but firm, stepping between you and the man. “You need to calm down.”

The drunk guy’s eyes flicked toward Chip, sizing him up, before he sneered. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the guy telling you to leave,” Chip responded, standing his ground. His heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his voice steady, refusing to let the guy see any hesitation. “You’ve had enough. Time to go.”

The man puffed up his chest, clearly not interested in backing down. “I paid for my damn drinks!”

“You paid,” Chip agreed, “and now you’re done. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.” He subtly shifted his stance, ready to intervene if the guy got any more aggressive.

For a moment, the man looked like he might push his luck, but then he glanced around the bar. Eyes were starting to turn his way. The whole scene had drawn enough attention that even he seemed to realize he wasn’t going to win this one.

With a final curse under his breath, the man shoved his stool back and stumbled toward the door. Chip kept an eye on him until he was out of sight, his muscles still tense and ready, just in case.

Once the man was gone, Chip let out a slow breath, the adrenaline ebbing away. He turned to you, still feeling the lingering need to make sure you were okay.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You smiled at him, clearly impressed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Chip.”

Chip couldn’t help the small, sheepish smile that crossed his face. “Just doing my job.”

“Still,” you said, leaning against the bar, your eyes softening a bit as you looked at him. “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

And just like that, all the tension that had built up in Chip’s body melted away, replaced with something else. A warmth, a quiet sense of accomplishment, knowing that he had done what he needed to do—both for the bar and for you.

—

Chip Taylor was no stranger to unhealthy obsessions. His life had been a series of poor decisions and misplaced emotions, but this—this crush, or what he feared had crossed into love—was different. It was deeper, more consuming, and incredibly stupid. He wanted to believe he was incapable of falling in love after only knowing you for a month. And not just any person, but his boss. Yet here he was, his heart doing that dumb little flip every time you smiled at him, and he hated himself for it.

But what was he supposed to do? You were everything. Kind, charismatic, caring, brilliant, sexy, funny, and nonjudgmental. It wasn’t like you were just some passing fancy. You had given him a chance when no one else would. You made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t doomed to be the screw-up he’d always been. And when you found out he was living in a shelter, you didn’t blink before offering him your guest room. Free of charge.

Chip had spent a lot of nights staring at the ceiling in that guest room, wondering how the hell he ended up in the presence of someone like you. With the kind of karma he had, he should’ve ended up with someone cold, manipulative, and cruel. But instead, there you were, offering kindness he didn’t think he deserved.

But that’s where the crush—no, love—came back to bite him. It was suffocating, this unspoken feeling gnawing at him every time you were near. The worst part? He had to watch night after night as men, women, and everyone in between flirted with you. It wasn’t like he could blame them. You were magnetic. You usually laughed off the flirtations with that casual grace you had, deflecting like a pro.

But tonight… tonight was different.

There was someone—a very attractive person who seemed to catch your eye. Chip had been half-watching from his usual spot near the entrance when he noticed it. The way you drifted toward this stranger more than once. The way your laughter was a bit more genuine, your eyes a little brighter. And then you touched their arm, leaning in closer to hear whatever charming thing they were saying.

Chip felt the sharp pang of jealousy twist inside him, the kind that makes your stomach drop and your chest ache. His grip tightened on the back of the barstool, the wood creaking under his hands as he watched the interaction unfold. He knew he was neglecting his job, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from you and that person.

It was like a slow-motion train wreck in his head. His heart clenched with every laugh you shared, every glance you shot their way. And when you touched their arm, a part of him shattered. The universe, it seemed, had a sick sense of humor.

Of course you didn’t feel the same way about him. Why would you? He was just Chip. The guy who wandered into your bar broke, desperate, and hopeless. The guy you’d kindly helped, but that didn’t mean you saw him that way. No, his karmic retribution had arrived in the form of the most amazing person he’d ever met being deposited into his life—but only so he could feel the crushing weight of wanting something he could never have.

Chip stared bitterly as you continued to smile at the stranger, his heart sinking deeper with every moment. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, cursing the universe for dangling you in front of him like a cruel joke.

Good one, universe, he thought bitterly to himself, his hands still gripping the stool as if it could keep him grounded. Real good one.

He looked away, but the ache in his chest remained. It wasn’t fair. None of this was.

As closing time rolled around, Chip’s bitterness hadn’t faded. If anything, it had intensified, simmering under the surface as he quietly went about his tasks. His mind was still replaying the way you had laughed, the way you had touched that stranger’s arm, and it stung more than he wanted to admit.

Conor, one of the other bartenders, smirked as they wiped down the counter, throwing a teasing glance your way. “You gonna let that beautiful thing take you out, boss?” They shimmied their shoulders, their grin wide and playful.

Cody, who had known you longer, joined in with a chuckle. “Yeah, girl, it’s been way too long. You should go out! You never do.”

Chip’s stomach twisted into knots as he listened, pretending to focus on stacking the chairs, though he could hear every word. His heart braced for what he expected to hear next—how excited you were, how you couldn’t wait to go on this date with the person who had flirted with you all night.

He could almost hear it now: your voice light, maybe even a little giddy, as you talked about how charming they were, how nice it would be to go out with someone after so long.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the anticipation of heartbreak wash over him as he steeled himself for the worst.

But then you laughed—soft and genuine, but not in the way Chip had feared. “Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “You both know I’m not looking to go on dates.”

Conor raised an eyebrow, still teasing. “Oh, come on. They were totally into you! You’re really just gonna let that walk away?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “Yeah, I’m really just gonna let that walk away. It’s not my thing right now.”

Cody shook their head with a smile, but didn’t push it further. “Well, alright, if you say so.”

Chip, who had been silently bracing for a different outcome, felt the tension in his chest ease ever so slightly. He hadn’t realized how tightly wound he’d been, how much he had feared hearing you talk about someone else with excitement.

You weren’t going on a date. You weren’t interested in that person, after all.

But then again… you weren’t interested in anyone. Not them. And definitely not him.

His relief was short-lived, replaced by the sinking realization that while you weren’t swooning over anyone else, it didn’t mean you felt anything for him either. He was still just your employee. A friend, maybe. But not anything more.

He finished stacking the chairs, his thoughts still tangled, trying to come to terms with the bittersweet mix of emotions swirling in his mind.

—

It was the middle of another shift, the bar alive with the usual chatter and clinking glasses, but Chip’s mind was far from the job. He was distracted—more than distracted. His thoughts kept looping back to you, the strangers who flirted with you, and the nagging ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

He’d been on autopilot for most of the night, his interactions with customers robotic, his movements stiff. Conor, ever the observant one, had noticed.

“Hey, man,” Conor said during a rare lull, when they were both by the back counter. They leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, eyeing Chip curiously. “You’ve been off lately. What’s going on with you?”

Chip froze for a moment, his mind scrambling for a response. “I’m fine,” he muttered, glancing away and hoping Conor would drop it.

But Conor wasn’t one to let things slide so easily. They tilted their head, narrowing their eyes. “Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird for days. Is it the job? Or… something else?”

Chip sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on him. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to say it out loud because that would make it real, and the last thing he needed was more complications.

“It’s nothing,” he tried again, though his voice lacked conviction.

Conor wasn’t buying it. “Dude, we work together, like, every night. I know when something’s up. Come on, what is it? You’ve been looking like a kicked puppy for days.”

Chip hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighed whether to say anything. But the more he tried to hold it in, the more it gnawed at him, until he couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“It’s… it’s her,” Chip finally admitted, his voice low, almost ashamed. He glanced toward the bar, where you were laughing with a regular, completely oblivious to the conversation happening in the back.

Conor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Her? You mean… Y/N… the boss?” They glanced at you, then back at Chip, their expression a mix of curiosity and something else—concern, maybe.

Chip nodded, running a hand over his face, feeling like an idiot for even saying it out loud. “Yeah. I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t—she’s my boss. But I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s… it’s driving me crazy.”

Conor’s expression softened, and they let out a low whistle. “Ah, man. That’s rough.”

Chip scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s not like she’d ever go for someone like me anyway. I mean, look at her—she’s amazing. I’m just the guy she took pity on.”

Conor took a moment, looking thoughtful before they spoke again. “Look, man. I’m not gonna say it’s not complicated. She is your boss, and that makes things tricky. But…” They paused, leaning in a bit. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

Chip blinked, not expecting that. “What do you mean?”

Conor shrugged. “You’re not just some random guy, Chip. You’ve been here for a while now, and she clearly cares about you. I see the way she talks to you—it’s not the same as the way she talks to everyone else.”

Chip frowned, trying to process what Conor was saying. “You really think so?”

Conor nodded. “Yeah, I do. But you’ve gotta be careful. If you’re really into her, you can’t just keep bottling it up like this. It’ll mess with your head. Maybe it’s time to feel her out—see if she’d ever be interested in someone like you. Just… be subtle. Tread carefully.”

Chip’s heart raced at the thought. The idea of making his feelings known, even subtly, terrified him. But Conor’s words sparked a tiny flicker of hope that he hadn’t let himself feel before.

“What if she’s not?” Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the fear of rejection creeping in.

Conor gave him a sympathetic look. “Then you know, and you can move on. But if you don’t at least try, you’re gonna drive yourself insane wondering ‘what if.’”

Chip mulled that over for a moment, glancing at you again as you poured drinks, completely unaware of the storm raging in his head. Conor was right—he couldn’t keep going like this, silently pining, letting it eat him alive. He had to do something, or the weight of it would crush him.

“Maybe,” Chip muttered, half to himself. “Maybe I will.”

Conor clapped him on the shoulder, offering a reassuring grin. “That’s the spirit. Just… don’t be a dumbass about it, okay?”

Chip chuckled softly, despite the turmoil in his chest. “I’ll try not to.”

As Conor wandered back to the front, Chip remained by the counter, his thoughts swirling. The idea of letting you in on his feelings terrified him, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. And for the first time, Chip allowed himself to think that maybe he wasn’t completely out of your league.

The only question now was when—and how—to take that terrifying first step.

—

The night had been rough—one of those nights where everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. Rowdy customers, spilled drinks, broken glasses, and more than one argument that had to be diffused before it turned into something worse. By the time the last patron staggered out the door, the bar felt like a battlefield, and the two of you were left with the aftermath.

Chip glanced over at you as you wiped down the bar, noticing how much more subdued you were than usual. The playful energy you typically carried with you seemed drained, replaced by exhaustion that tugged at your features. You didn’t say anything at first, just sighed deeply, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the night with it.

“Man, sometimes this job really wears you down,” you muttered, your voice tired, your shoulders slumping slightly as you leaned against the bar.

Chip hesitated, watching you, feeling that tug inside him again—an overwhelming need to comfort you, to say something that might make you feel better. He’d been watching you all night, seeing how you held it together even when things got chaotic, but now that the crowd was gone, you looked more vulnerable than he’d ever seen you.

“You’re amazing at what you do,” Chip said quietly, stepping a little closer, his voice soft but sincere. “Don’t let nights like this get to you.”

You glanced at him, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Thanks, Chip. I try, but… it’s hard sometimes, you know?”

He nodded, unsure what to say next but wanting to fill the silence, to keep the moment from slipping away. The air between you felt different—quieter, more intimate, like the walls around both of you had come down just a little.

You sighed again, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “I guess nights like this remind me why I don’t… go out much. Or really have a life. It’s just too much sometimes, trying to balance everything. Running this place, taking care of everyone, making sure things don’t fall apart.”

Chip blinked, taken aback by how candid you were being. He’d never heard you talk like this before. Usually, you were so in control, so confident, like nothing could rattle you. But now, standing here in the quiet aftermath of a long night, you seemed… tired. Maybe even a little lonely.

You leaned against the bar, your gaze softening as you stared at the worn wood beneath your hands. “I spend so much time here, making sure everything’s running smoothly, making sure everyone’s taken care of, that there’s just… not a lot of room left for anything else.”

Chip swallowed, his chest tightening at your words. He had wondered before why you never seemed interested in the flirtations that came your way, why you brushed off attention so easily. Now, it made sense. You weren’t uninterested in romance—you were just too busy being everything to everyone else.

“I didn’t know,” Chip said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “I guess I never thought about how much you have on your plate.”

You smiled, a little sad but genuine. “Yeah, well, that’s the life, right? Someone’s gotta keep this place going. And I guess I’m just used to taking care of people. I don’t mind it… but it doesn’t leave much room for… other stuff.”

Chip stood there, the weight of your words settling over him. He felt a pang of guilt for all the times he’d watched you flirt with customers and felt jealousy burn inside him. He hadn’t understood before—hadn’t realized how much you were carrying, how much you were sacrificing to keep things together.

But now, in this quiet moment, he saw you differently. Not just as the confident, flirtatious bartender who always had a smile and a witty remark, but as someone who was just as vulnerable, just as human, as anyone else. Someone who gave so much of themselves that there wasn’t much left over.

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. Chip didn’t know what to say, how to fix the exhaustion he saw in your eyes, but he wanted to offer something, anything, to let you know you weren’t alone.

“You’re really good at taking care of people,” he said softly. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief second, something passed between you—a quiet, shared moment that neither of you had expected. You smiled, a real smile this time, one that made Chip’s heart stutter in his chest.

“Thanks, Chip,” you said, your voice gentle, and there was something different in the way you looked at him now, something softer. “I mean it.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more, afraid of ruining the fragile connection that had just been made. He didn’t know what this moment meant—whether it changed anything between you, whether it was just a fleeting glimpse of something deeper—but it felt important.

As you both finished cleaning up, the bar seemed quieter than usual, the air between you charged with a subtle, unspoken shift. Chip walked out that night feeling closer to you than he ever had before, even if he still wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings tangled up inside him.

He felt like maybe you saw him, not just as an employee or a friend, but as someone who might be able to share a little bit of that weight you carried.

—

Chip got to work the next day extra early, sneaking into the bar while you were behind the counter, mixing drinks to prep for the evening. He didn’t want to risk bumping into you just yet—his nerves were already on edge from Conor’s advice and the conversation you two had—so he headed straight to the back. Inventory was the part of the job he knew you hated the most, so he wanted to take some of the load off for you. And… maybe if he took care of it (and you), you'd notice him in a different light. Maybe.

He was half-hidden behind stacks of bottles when Cody caught him.

“Chip?” Cody's voice rang through the storage room, followed by a soft laugh. “You know you won’t get paid for this, right?”

Chip startled, his fingers fumbling the bottle of sour mixer he was holding. It slipped from his hands, but luckily it was plastic and hit the ground with a soft thud. Still, he couldn’t help but glare at Cody, irritation mingling with embarrassment. “Your point?”

Cody leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and an amused smirk playing on their lips. “Why are you doing it, then?”

Chip exhaled sharply, setting the bottle back on the shelf with a bit more force than necessary. “Just helping out the boss,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

“Uh-huh,” Cody dragged the words out, that knowing look never leaving their face. “Because you’re in loooove?” they teased, stretching the word out obnoxiously.

“No!” Chip squeaked, his voice shooting up a pitch. He felt his face flush instantly, and he inwardly cursed himself for the involuntary reaction. “I am not,” he added, more firmly this time, though he could hear how unconvincing it sounded even to his own ears.

Cody raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.” They winked, their smirk widening. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. That woman is oblivious as hell, though.”

Chip’s shoulders slumped, his heart racing with a mixture of panic and frustration. “She’s not… it’s not like that,” he grumbled, though he knew Cody wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, it’s not like that,” Cody teased, mimicking his tone. “Look, man, I don’t blame you. I mean, she’s great. But maybe you should stop hiding back here, doing unpaid inventory, and, you know, actually talk to her.”

Chip groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he shot Cody a half-hearted glare. “It’s not that simple.”

Cody shrugged, pushing off the wall and tossing him a sympathetic smile. “It never is. But, hey, I’m rooting for you.”

Chip watched as Cody walked out, leaving him alone with the bottles and his now much louder thoughts. Cody was right, of course, but Chip couldn’t help feeling stuck. Helping out with the busywork was a small way to get closer to you, but it wasn’t enough.

He sighed heavily, staring at the neatly organized bottles in front of him. He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t just lurk in the background hoping you’d magically see him the way he saw you. Something had to give. But what?

Chip's question was answered moments later when you burst into the back, clearly not expecting to find anyone there. "Ah!" you screamed, your hand flying to your chest as you nearly dropped the empty glass you were holding. “Chip!” you gasped, still catching your breath. “What the hell?”

Chip jumped, just as startled. “Sorry, Y/N!” He quickly stepped forward, his own heart pounding. “I just… wanted to help. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I—I know you hate doing inventory, so I thought I’d, you know—” His words were tumbling out, awkward and rushed, trying desperately to explain himself.

But you cut him off with a light, melodic laugh, and the sound of it stopped him in his tracks. “You’re a very sweet man, Chip Taylor. Do you know that?”

The way you were looking at him—it was new. Different. There was something softer in your gaze, something warm, and Chip felt his pulse quicken. He liked it. No, he loved it.

He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Just trying to help,” he said with a casual shrug, though his insides were far from calm.

You smiled again, that affectionate, teasing grin that made his heart flutter. “Well,” you said softly, “I really appreciate it, but you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Chip blurted, almost too quickly. He met your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his face. His words weren’t just about inventory anymore, and he wondered if you could tell.

You grinned, rolling your eyes in that way that made him feel like you were amused by his awkwardness but found it endearing all the same. Then, without warning, you stepped even closer, reaching around him to grab a bottle of vodka from the shelf behind him. In that brief moment, your chest pressed against his, and Chip was sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Thanks, Chip,” you breathed, your voice low and soft, your minty breath brushing against his skin as you pulled away slightly. For a second, he could barely think—your scent, your closeness, everything about you had him utterly captivated.

Chip felt frozen in place, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Yeah,” he stammered, his throat suddenly dry, “no problem.”

You gave him another warm smile, lingering just a moment longer before you took the vodka and turned to head back out to the bar. Chip stood there, still trying to process what had just happened, the lingering scent of you and the feel of your closeness imprinted in his mind.

As the door swung closed behind you, Chip let out a shaky breath, leaning against the shelf. His mind was spinning. That brief moment—your chest against his, the way your breath had ghosted across his face—felt like it had flipped a switch inside him.

—

After that brief but electrifying moment in the backroom, Chip couldn’t help but start noticing everything you did. It was as if every little thing you did seemed loaded with meaning—whether you intended it or not.

At home, things had shifted too. It used to be that you’d take your clothes into the bathroom when you showered, emerging fully dressed and casual. But lately, it had been different. Now, you would stroll around the apartment in a tiny towel, your damp hair clinging to your neck, droplets of water glistening on your skin. And every time you did, Chip’s brain short-circuited, turning into something the size of a pea. He'd try to focus on anything else, but his gaze always drifted back to you—your bare legs, the curve of your shoulders, the way that towel seemed dangerously close to slipping.

Then there were the groceries. You came home one day with bags full of food, seemingly innocent at first glance, until Chip noticed the trend. You had brought bananas, popsicles, cucumbers—foods that were all, well… suggestive. Chip tried not to notice, he really did. But it was impossible when you were sitting across from him at the table, casually peeling a banana and slowly taking bites in the most torturous way possible. The worst part was, you seemed completely oblivious to the effect it was having on him.

And then there were the popsicles. One hot evening, after a long shift, you sat on the couch next to Chip, legs tucked under you, enjoying a cherry popsicle. The way your lips wrapped around it, the slow, deliberate licks as you savored the cold treat—it was enough to make Chip feel like he was about to combust. He tried to keep his eyes glued to the TV, pretending he wasn’t completely fixated on the way the red juice dripped down your chin, but every glance made his heart race.

One afternoon, you were in the kitchen, casually preparing a salad. Chip, seated nearby with his phone in hand, was pretending—poorly—to focus on whatever was on his screen. But the second you pulled out an enormous cucumber from the fridge, all his concentration shattered. He told himself not to look, not to pay attention, but his eyes betrayed him, drifting back to you with every movement.

You stood there at the counter, holding the cucumber with ease as you peeled it, your fingers gripping the base in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. Chip tried to remind himself it was just a vegetable. A completely innocent act. But the way you were handling it, slicing it with such careful precision, each stroke of the knife agonizingly slow—it felt like some kind of sensual tease meant only for him, though you were completely unaware of his growing torment.

His heart raced as you absentmindedly brought a slice to your lips, biting into it with a soft crunch. The way your teeth sank into the crisp flesh of the cucumber, your lips wrapping around it, made Chip’s grip on his phone tighten. His palms were sweating, and he could feel his pulse hammering in his ears. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop.

You chewed slowly, blissfully unaware of the effect you were having on him. When you reached for another slice, it was like slow motion—the way you brought it up, your tongue brushing it ever so slightly before you bit into it again. The movement was subtle, but it sent a jolt through Chip that he struggled to suppress.

He swallowed hard, trying to shift his attention back to his phone, but it was useless. His entire focus was on you—on the way your fingers held the cucumber, on the soft sigh that escaped your lips as you savored the taste, on the way your eyes remained distant, clearly lost in thought while he was trapped in his own private torment.

Then, as if to push him further into the abyss, you grabbed the entire cucumber in your hand again, taking a bite straight from it. Chip's mind went blank, his breath hitching as he watched your lips part, teeth sinking into the cucumber’s firm flesh, your lips lingering just a bit longer than necessary.

Completely unaware of his wide-eyed stare, you chewed thoughtfully, then shot him a playful grin, wiping juice from the corner of your mouth. "Want some?" you asked innocently, holding up a slice.

Chip nearly choked, his mind reeling. “Uh, no. I’m—uh, I’m good,” he stammered, his voice strangled with tension.

You shrugged, your smile casual and sweet. “Suit yourself,” you replied, popping another slice into your mouth with a satisfied hum.

Chip, feeling like he was about to combust, swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, but the image of your lips on that cucumber, the soft bite, the way your eyes sparkled without a hint of understanding of what you were doing to him—it was seared into his mind.

And he knew—there was no escaping this.

Before work one evening, you casually announced that you were trying a new stretching routine. Chip had been lounging on the couch, trying to unwind after the shift, but when you spread out a yoga mat right in front of him, his entire focus shifted.

You didn’t seem to notice his sudden tension as you knelt down and began stretching, starting with simple movements. But it wasn’t long before you bent forward, your fingers sliding toward your toes, your back arching as you stretched deeper. Chip’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, his heart hammering in his chest.

Your bottoms hugged every curve, and as you stretched, the material pulled tighter, highlighting the shape of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the way your legs seemed to go on forever. The soft sighs you let out with each motion—small sounds of exertion—sent shivers down his spine.

Chip tried desperately not to look, to focus on the TV, on his phone, on anything else, but it was impossible. The sight of you in front of him, completely absorbed in your routine, was maddening. Every movement seemed deliberate, sensual, though you had no idea what you were doing to him.

You moved into a deeper stretch, bending down again, this time with your legs spread slightly apart. Chip’s pulse quickened, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch as he fought to keep himself calm. The way your body moved, so fluid, so confident, had him mesmerized.

And then you shifted into a backbend, your body arching gracefully, your chest rising, the soft line of your neck exposed. You groaned softly, a sound of satisfaction from the stretch, but to Chip, it was something else entirely—a sound that sent heat flooding through his veins.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his pulse racing in his ears. His mind was spinning, trying to reign in his thoughts, but the way your body curved, the way your breathing deepened, was driving him wild. Every inch of you was in his line of sight, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop staring.

You looked up at him briefly, giving him an innocent smile as you reached for your toes again. “You should try this sometime, Chip,” you said, completely oblivious to the chaos in his head. “It’s a great way to relax.”

Chip could barely respond, his throat tight. “Y-yeah, maybe,” he managed to croak, though the last thing he felt was relaxed. His body was tense, every muscle wound tight as he sat there, barely able to breathe, knowing that if you kept this up any longer, he might just lose his mind.

As you continued your stretches, Chip’s gaze flicked over every inch of you, burning with desire he couldn’t control, and he knew, deep down, that this slow torture couldn’t last much longer. Something had to give.

—

Later that week at the bar, Chip’s jealousy was reaching a boiling point. He had been dealing with it quietly for weeks now, keeping it buried beneath the surface as best as he could, but tonight was different. Someone had started flirting with you again—a regular, someone smooth and confident, who clearly knew what they were doing. And unlike all the other times, this time you seemed more receptive. Even if it was just for a brief moment, you laughed at their jokes, leaned in a little closer, your smile warmer than it usually was with other customers.

Chip could feel his stomach twist with bitterness, his jaw tightening as he tried to stay focused on his work. But he couldn’t. His eyes kept drifting back to you, watching as you exchanged banter with the customer, completely unaware of how much it was tearing him apart inside.

For weeks, you’d been teasing him—whether you knew it or not—walking around the apartment in towels, eating suggestive foods, brushing up against him, filling his mind with all kinds of thoughts. And now this? Flirting with someone else right in front of him? It felt like a punch to the gut.

As the night went on, Chip found himself pulling away, becoming more distant, his usual tasks done with robotic efficiency but none of his usual energy. He stayed out of sight as much as possible, avoiding you, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He couldn’t bring himself to be around you right now, not when his feelings were so close to breaking free.

After the bar finally closed and the last of the patrons trickled out, you noticed the shift in him. You wiped down the last of the counters, glancing over at Chip as he quietly stacked chairs, avoiding eye contact. Something was off.

“Chip?” you called out softly as you approached him. “You’ve been acting weird tonight. What’s going on?”

Chip didn’t look up, muttering a quick, “Nothing.”

You frowned, stepping closer and gently grabbing his arm. “I know that’s not true,” you said softly, your voice tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

Chip flinched at your touch, a surge of frustration boiling over. He could feel it all bubbling to the surface, and before he could stop himself, the words spilled out. “It’s just… it’s hard watching everyone else flirt with you all the time.”

His voice was low, almost bitter, and it surprised even him how much emotion was packed into that one sentence. He finally looked at you, his eyes dark with something more than just jealousy.

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his confession. “Chip…” you started, your brows knitting together in confusion. “That’s just part of the job. It doesn’t mean anything.”

But Chip wasn’t convinced. He shook his head, his frustration seeping through. “Does it ever mean anything to you?”

Your breath caught for a second, surprised by the intensity in his question. You hadn’t seen just how much all the casual flirting, all the little interactions with customers, had been affecting him. You’d always seen it as part of the business, part of keeping the bar running smoothly. But Chip wasn’t just a customer. He wasn’t just another person passing through.

You let go of his arm, your expression softening as you took in the frustration in his voice, the way he was holding so much back. “Chip, I don’t know…” you started softly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough, his walls crumbling down as all the emotions he had been holding back started to bleed through.

For a moment, the silence hung heavy between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the tension that had been simmering between you both for weeks. You were seeing him in a new light—one filled with longing, frustration, and something deeper. Something that had been building up inside Chip for a while, and it was clear he couldn’t keep it locked away any longer.

He looked away, unable to meet your eyes, his voice softening with vulnerability. For the first time, you saw just how much you’d affected him. You weren’t sure what to say next, how to navigate the mess of emotions swirling between you two, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t just about flirting anymore. This was about something much deeper, and now it was out in the open, there was no turning back.

—

Feeling that his crush on you had become unbearable, Chip found himself standing in the back room of the bar, leaning against the shelves as his thoughts spiraled. Every night seemed worse than the last. Every time you smiled at someone else, laughed at their jokes, or leaned in a little too close to a customer, Chip felt something twist painfully in his chest. It had become too much. His feelings were no longer a crush—they were an anchor, weighing him down, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe in the same room as you.

The problem was, these feelings were starting to get in the way of his work. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t pretend to just be your employee anymore. How could he when his heart was tangled up in you? Watching you flirt with customers, even in the most harmless way, made him feel like he was drowning. And worse—it wasn’t your fault. You were just doing your job, being yourself. But the jealousy, the frustration, the hopeless longing were making it impossible for him to do his.

And it wasn’t just at work anymore. At home, things had changed too. Chip had noticed that lately, you seemed more careful around him. For a while, you had been casual, carefree—walking around in towels, making playful jokes, teasing him without a second thought. But now? Now, there was an unspoken tension in the air between you. It was subtle, but Chip could feel it. You no longer strolled around the apartment with the same lightness, no longer lingered in the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel after a shower. You’d take your clothes into the bathroom again, your playful banter tinged with something more reserved, more cautious.

It was like you could sense something had shifted in him, and in response, you’d adjusted too. Maybe you hadn’t realized just how much he was struggling with his feelings, but you’d picked up on something. And that made everything worse. The easy comfort of being roommates had vanished, replaced by a growing awkwardness that gnawed at Chip constantly.

He couldn’t escape it. Not at work, where he had to watch you be charming and kind to everyone else. And not at home, where your sudden carefulness only reminded him of how complicated things had become. It was like he was trapped, unable to breathe, unable to think of anything but you and the growing distance between you.

It was too much. The weight of it was suffocating.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

So, the only option he saw was to leave. If he couldn’t have you—if you’d never look at him the way he looked at you—then maybe he needed to get out before it broke him completely. The idea of walking away felt like a fresh cut, sharp and deep, but staying felt like a slow, agonizing burn.

Cody and Conor were chatting by the bar, laughing about something when Chip walked up, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Conor was the first to notice Chip’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow.

“Whoa, man. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Conor teased, though there was concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”

Chip sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “I… I think I’m gonna quit.”

Cody stopped mid-laugh, their smile fading as they blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, what?”

Conor frowned, crossing their arms. “Man, you can’t just drop that on us. What the hell’s going on?”

Chip swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hadn’t wanted to admit how much he was struggling, but he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore. “It’s just—my feelings. For her. It’s getting in the way of everything. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore. Every night, it feels like I’m watching her with other people, and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to feel this way, but I do. And I think the only way to stop it is to leave.”

Cody exchanged a glance with Conor before stepping closer to Chip, their expression softer now. “Chip, I get it. Believe me, I do. But quitting your job because of it? That’s a big decision.”

Conor nodded, their playful demeanor gone as they looked at Chip seriously. “You’ve gotta think carefully about this, man. You’re not just giving up a job—you’re giving up on being around her completely. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Chip felt his heart ache at the thought of not seeing you anymore, not hearing your laugh or seeing your smile every night. But at the same time, he didn’t know how much longer he could take the constant emotional rollercoaster of wanting something that seemed impossible. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” he admitted, his voice strained. “But I don’t think I can stay and keep feeling like this. It’s tearing me apart.”

Cody sighed, placing a hand on Chip’s shoulder. “Look, man, we’re not telling you what to do, but maybe don’t make any rash decisions just yet. Take some time to really think about it. If you leave now, it might hurt just as much as staying does.”

“Yeah,” Conor added, “and finding another job won’t necessarily fix how you feel. Your heart’s wrapped up in this. It’s not gonna just go away because you work somewhere else.”

Chip nodded, knowing deep down they were right. It wasn’t just the job—it was you. His heart was tangled up in you, and no matter where he went, those feelings weren’t going to magically disappear. Still, the thought of staying felt unbearable, and he couldn’t shake the idea of leaving, of starting over somewhere where he wouldn’t have to feel like this every day.

“I’ve even started looking for other jobs,” Chip muttered, his voice quiet. “Just to see if there’s anything else out there. Something to distract me from… this.”

Cody sighed, glancing at Conor before turning back to Chip. “Look, maybe there’s another way. Have you thought about… I don’t know… talking to her? Telling her how you feel?”

Chip shook his head, his face a mask of pain. “I can’t. She’s my boss, my roommate. It would just make things weird. I don’t want to mess things up even more.”

Conor raised an eyebrow. “Weirder than you quitting out of nowhere without explaining why? Where would you live then?”

Chip bit his lip, his hands balling into fists as he stared at the floor. He hadn’t thought about it like that. Leaving without saying anything would raise questions. It would leave things unresolved.

Cody squeezed his shoulder gently. “Just… think about it, okay? Don’t do anything you’ll regret later. Talk to her if you can. And if it’s really too much to handle, we’ll support whatever decision you make.”

Cody and Conor had noticed things changing between you and Chip for a while now. They weren’t blind to the way Chip had started acting—more distant, more withdrawn, especially when you were around. His mood had shifted, and while he was still doing his job, there was a tension between the two of you that hadn’t been there before.

And now, with Chip thinking about quitting, they couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was more to the story—something you hadn’t said yet.

It was a quiet afternoon at the bar, just before the evening rush. You were behind the counter, absentmindedly polishing glasses, and Cody and Conor shared a look before they approached. They weren’t going to be obvious, but they needed to get a feel for where your head was at when it came to Chip.

Conor leaned against the counter first, flashing you a playful grin. “So, boss, how’s it going with our boy Chip lately? He’s been acting a little off, don’t you think?”

You glanced up, your brow furrowing slightly as you met Conor’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” you admitted, setting down the glass you were working on. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s been so… distant. Different.”

Cody, leaning on the bar next to Conor, raised an eyebrow, watching your reaction closely. “Different how?” they asked casually, though there was a clear curiosity in their voice.

You shrugged, not entirely sure how to explain it. “I don’t know… He just seems quieter lately. I’ve tried asking him if he’s okay, but he always brushes it off, says he’s fine. But it doesn’t feel like he is.”

Conor exchanged a quick glance with Cody before turning back to you. “You think maybe it’s something to do with work? Or… maybe something else?”

You paused for a moment, considering the question. Chip had been acting strange both at work and at home, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s been fine at work, mostly, just a little more distracted than usual. And at home… well, it feels like things are weird there too. Like there’s some kind of… tension between us. But I don’t know why.”

Cody leaned in a little closer, their tone softer now, as if they were testing the waters. “Tension? Like what kind of tension? You think maybe Chip’s feeling some kind of way about you?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the implication, blinking in surprise. “What? No, I mean… why would he?” You laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it now. “We’re just friends. Roommates. He’s probably just going through something.”

Conor smirked, crossing their arms and leaning in a little closer. “Maybe. But we’ve seen the way he looks at you, you know? Kind of seems like there’s more there…”

You hesitated, feeling a flicker of uncertainty at their words. You’d noticed Chip acting strange, sure, but you hadn’t really considered the idea that it might be because of you. “I don’t know,” you said, a little quieter now. “He’s never said anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Cody said with a knowing smile, “sometimes guys don’t say stuff like that because they’re scared of messing things up. But, I mean, if he did feel that way… how would you feel about it?”

You looked between Cody and Conor, realizing they weren’t just casually asking anymore. They were digging, trying to gauge your reaction, and it left you feeling a little off-balance. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “He’s an amazing person, but…”

Conor raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish. “But?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “But he’s never made a move, you know? We’ve been living together for a while, and I guess there have been a few times when I thought he might say something. Maybe he wanted something more, but he never opens up. I never know what he’s thinking.”

Cody nodded, a knowing look in their eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like Chip. He’s got a lot going on in that head of his, but he keeps it all bottled up. Doesn’t make it easy to figure out what he wants.”

Conor leaned in a little closer, lowering their voice. “But here’s the thing—you probably know him better than anyone. You’ve seen the way he is when he’s comfortable, and when he’s not. And if you’ve felt those moments—those times when you thought he might say something—well, chances are, he’s felt them too.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking back to those moments. The times when you caught him looking at you a second too long, or when he seemed to shy away from getting too close. The way he acted differently around you lately, quieter, more distant, like he was trying to avoid something. Or maybe trying to avoid you.

“I just don’t get it,” you admitted, shaking your head. “If he feels something, why doesn’t he say anything? Why pull away?”

Cody smiled sympathetically. “Fear, probably. He’s scared of messing things up between you two. I mean, think about it—you’re his boss, his roommate, his friend. That’s a lot to risk if he’s worried it’s not mutual.”

Conor added, “And from what I’ve seen, it’s eating him up. Dude’s been in a weird headspace lately. He probably thinks if he says something, it’ll make things weird or worse, so instead he just… suffers in silence.”

You exhaled heavily, feeling the weight of their words settle over you. Maybe you’d been missing something, maybe Chip had been struggling with this for longer than you realized. But if he wasn’t going to say anything, if he was just going to pull away, what could you do?

“Should I… talk to him?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of how to approach something like this. It wasn’t like you could just march up to him and demand he tell you how he felt.

Cody gave you an encouraging nod. “I think you should. Just be honest with him. If you care about him—and I know you do—then don’t let this thing fester. He’s not going to be the one to start that conversation, so it’s gotta be you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a swirl of emotions you weren’t entirely ready to confront. It was one thing to speculate about Chip’s feelings, but if you were going to talk to him—if you were going to open this door—then you’d have to be ready for what might come next.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice firm but uncertain. “I’ll talk to him. I just hope I’m not too late.”

Conor patted your shoulder, flashing you a supportive grin. “You’re not. Just don’t wait too long. Chip’s a good guy, but he seems like he might have a habit of retreating when things get hard. You don’t want to lose him.”

As they walked away, leaving you alone to process everything, you found yourself staring at the empty bar, your thoughts circling back to Chip. Maybe you had missed something, maybe you hadn’t been paying close enough attention. But one thing was certain—things couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change, and soon.

—

It was late, the bar now silent after the last customer had trickled out into the night. The air was still, thick with the smell of spilled drinks and fading laughter, but it was peaceful in a way that only came after a long shift. You wiped down the last glass, casting a glance over at Chip as he finished stacking the chairs.

“Hey, Chip,” you called softly, breaking the quiet, “how about we have a drink before heading home?”

Chip hesitated, surprised by the offer. His heart leapt into his throat, immediately overthinking every possible implication. You just wanted to relax, he told himself. It was just a drink, no big deal. Still, he was nervous. Too nervous, given the circumstances. But after a second, he nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

You smiled at him, that easy, genuine smile that always seemed to put him at ease, and it made his stomach twist with all the feelings he’d been trying to keep buried. He followed you to the back of the bar, where it was quieter, and you grabbed two beers from the cooler, handing one to him as you sat down at one of the small, dimly lit tables.

The two of you clinked your bottles together lightly, the gesture casual, but Chip could feel the tension thrumming in his chest. He took a sip, trying to settle his nerves as you both sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“So,” you began after a while, your voice soft but curious, “how’ve you been? I mean, really been? I feel like we haven’t talked much lately.”

Chip blinked, caught off guard by the question. He swallowed, his fingers tightening around the neck of the beer bottle. “Uh, I’ve been… okay, I guess,” he said, trying to sound neutral, though his voice faltered slightly.

You tilted your head, giving him that look that told him you could see right through him. “Come on, Chip. I know you better than that.”

Chip looked down, the familiar feeling of guilt creeping up on him. He knew he hadn’t been the same, but how could he explain that it was all because of you? That every time he saw you, every time you smiled or laughed, it felt like his heart was being ripped in two? He couldn’t tell you that—not completely. Not yet.

“I’ve just been… dealing with some stuff,” he finally admitted, his voice quieter now. “Got a lot on my mind.”

You nodded, sipping your beer thoughtfully. “I get that. We all have our moments, right? But if there’s something going on, you know you can talk to me, right? I care about you, Chip.”

Chip felt his heart clench at your words. The way you said it—I care about you—it was so simple, so kind, but it only reminded him of what he couldn’t have. He took a deep breath, deciding to let a little bit of his guard down. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about the future, I guess. What I’m doing here. What I want to be doing. And sometimes, it feels like I’m stuck.”

You leaned in slightly, your eyes soft with understanding. “I’ve felt the same way a lot over the years. Like, what am I doing here? Where am I going? It’s hard to figure out sometimes, especially when things feel complicated.”

Chip glanced at you, surprised at your openness. “You seem like you have it all figured out,” Chip said, his tone slightly teasing but genuine. “Running this place, handling everything so well. I’ve always admired that about you.”

You smiled, a little sadly. “Thanks, Chip, but trust me, I don’t have it all figured out. Sometimes I’m just as lost as anyone else. I just try not to let it show too much.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you two as you both sipped your beers, each lost in your own thoughts. The conversation was quieter now, but there was an ease to it, a closeness that hadn’t been there before.

After a few more minutes of silence, you set your beer down and looked at Chip, your expression shifting slightly, more serious now. “Chip,” you began, your voice softer, more hesitant, “can I ask you something?”

He glanced up at you, his heart immediately jumping into his throat again. “Yeah, of course.”

You bit your lip, seeming to choose your words carefully before finally asking, “How do you feel about me?”

Chip froze. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears. This was it. The moment he’d been avoiding, the conversation he’d been dreading and longing for all at once. His hands tightened around the bottle, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if he could find the words. But he couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“I—” He hesitated, feeling the weight of the question settle heavily over him. He could feel your eyes on him, waiting for an answer, and he knew he had to give you one. “I care about you. A lot. More than I should.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “More than you should?”

Chip took a deep breath, his throat tight. “Yeah. You’re my boss, and my friend, and… I don’t want to mess things up between us. But it’s been hard. Really hard. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it down, but it’s just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s hard watching you, being around you, and not being able to say anything. Because I know it’ll change things, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel the way I do.”

There it was. Not a full confession, but enough to crack open the wall he’d been hiding behind. Enough to give you a glimpse into how much he’d been struggling with his feelings for you.

You sat back, processing his words, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with everything that had been left unsaid for weeks, months. Finally, you let out a soft breath, your gaze meeting his.

“I didn’t realize,” you said gently. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. I didn’t want to make things weird.”

You were quiet for a moment longer before you spoke again, your voice softer now. “Things aren’t weird, Chip. Not for me. I just… I wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

Chip looked up at you, his heart racing. There was something in your voice, something in the way you were looking at him that made him think, for the first time, that maybe he hadn’t been wrong to feel the way he did. Maybe there was more between you than just friendship and work. Maybe things weren’t as impossible as he’d thought.

"Why?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty lacing every syllable. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between hope and the fear of misunderstanding everything.

You smiled softly, and in that moment, Chip felt the world shift, the air between you charged with something different—something real. Your eyes met his, filled with a warmth and sincerity he hadn’t allowed himself to believe was possible.

“Because then I could have told you sooner that I feel the same way,” you said, your voice gentle but sure.

Chip stared at you, his mind struggling to catch up with what you’d just said. Feel the same way? His heart skipped a beat, his pulse thundering in his ears as your words sank in. He had spent so long convincing himself that you were out of reach, that his feelings were one-sided, a hopeless crush he’d never be able to confess.

But now—now—you were looking at him with that soft, genuine smile, and everything he’d been holding back for so long felt like it was about to come crashing down. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all. “What… what way do you feel?” he asked, his voice quiet, filled with disbelief. He needed to hear it again, just to be sure, just to know this wasn’t a dream or some misunderstanding.

You grinned, the warmth in your eyes making his pulse race even faster. “I really like you, Chip,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with affection. “And right now, I really want to kiss you.”

Chip’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the words hit him with full force. His heart seemed to skip a beat, the reality of the moment sinking in. He had imagined this—dreamt about it, wished for it—but hearing it, actually hearing it, was something entirely different.

“You… you do?” he stammered, the disbelief still lingering even as his heart swelled with hope.

You nodded, stepping closer, closing the space between you. “Yeah, Chip. I do.”

The air between you was charged now, thick with anticipation and a tension that had been building for so long. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, the soft hum of something electric as your gaze held his. His mind was still spinning, but there was no mistaking the look in your eyes, the way your lips curved into that gentle, inviting smile.

For once, Chip didn’t overthink it. He didn’t retreat into his head or worry about the consequences. He didn’t think about you being his boss, his roommate, or the fear that had kept him silent for so long. All he could think about was you—standing there, telling him you felt the same way he had for so long.

So, without another word, Chip leaned in, his breath shaky but his heart certain. His lips brushed yours, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the moment your lips touched, everything fell into place. The hesitation melted away, and Chip deepened the kiss, his hand gently reaching up to cup your cheek as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was soft, tender, but filled with everything you both had held back for so long. It was like a floodgate had opened, all the emotions, the longing, the unsaid words finally spilling out in that one moment. Chip couldn’t believe it was happening—that after all this time, you wanted this too.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you were both slightly breathless, a quiet, giddy laughter bubbling between you.

“I can’t believe we waited so long to do that,” you whispered, your hand still resting on his arm.

Chip smiled, his heart still racing. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You chuckled softly, your thumb brushing gently over his arm. “It’s real, Chip.”

You both stood there for a moment, the weight of everything that had been unsaid between you now lifted, leaving only the warmth of something new, something real. Chip felt lighter than he had in weeks, months, honestly ever.

He smiled softly at you, his voice filled with quiet sincerity as he whispered, “I think I want to kiss you again.”

And when you smiled, leaning in for another kiss, it felt like the start of something he’d been waiting for all along.

But this next kiss was different. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was filled with the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, finally unleashed. You gripped his biceps, feeling the strength you’d been secretly drooling over for months, your fingers curling around the muscle as if you couldn’t get close enough.

Chip’s hands slid down to your hips, and with a sudden, heated movement, he yanked you into his lap. The shift was quick, fluid, and before you could even react, you were straddling him, your chest pressed against his, the air between you charged with a hunger that neither of you could deny anymore.

“Whoa, there, cowboy,” you laughed breathlessly, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, your lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. Your hands stayed on his arms, but your body trembled with excitement, anticipation coursing through your veins.

Chip grinned, that boyish, almost shy smile you’d grown so fond of breaking through the lustful haze in his eyes. “Sorry, got a little carried away,” he murmured, though his hands stayed firm on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

You laughed again, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t say I minded,” you teased, leaning back in, your lips brushing his with just enough pressure to drive him wild. You could feel his heartbeat under your palms, could sense the way he was holding back, still cautious despite the fire burning between you.

Chip groaned softly, the sound vibrating between your lips as his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “You’re making it really hard to behave,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath warm and ragged, sending shivers down your spine.

“Who said I want you to behave?” you whispered back, the words sending a surge of heat through him. You could feel him tense beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more need.

Your hands slipped from his biceps to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as you let yourself melt into him, the heat between you intensifying with every second. Chip’s hands roamed from your hips, sliding down to your ass, his grip firm, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

The bar was quiet, the world outside forgotten as the two of you lost yourselves in each other, in the kiss that had been building for so long. It was like the floodgates had opened, all the pent-up tension, the unsaid words, the longing finally released in this moment.

And as you kissed him again, his lips soft yet demanding against yours, you realized just how much you had wanted this—how much you had wanted him.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Chip murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough, sending another thrill through you.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, your heart racing. “Me too, Chip,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

When your fingers crept up the bottom of Chip’s shirt, brushing against his skin and tangling in the soft hair on his stomach, you felt him shiver under your touch. His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, he seemed to freeze. His hands, which had been resting firmly on your ass, loosened slightly as if his mind caught up to what was happening.

“We—um, we probably shouldn’t do this here? Right?” Chip's voice was shaky, caught between desire and hesitation, his words more a question than a statement.

You paused, leaning back just enough to look at him, the playful gleam still shining in your eyes. “My bar, my rules,” you whispered, your voice dripping with mischief. Without giving him time to respond, you leaned forward, licking a slow, deliberate line up the side of his neck, feeling the way he trembled under your lips.

Chip let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering shut as your teeth dug into the sensitive skin of his neck. He gripped you tighter, trying to catch his breath, his mind spinning. The line between right and wrong blurred as the heat between you intensified.

He swallowed hard, as his thoughts unraveled with every kiss, every bite, the world outside forgotten as your lips sent electricity coursing through him. Your teeth scraped lightly against his neck again, making him gasp, his body arching beneath you. He felt like he was losing himself in you, in this moment, and he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. The tension, the need that had built up for so long was too much to ignore now.

"Fuck," Chip groaned lowly as you finally settled fully on his lap, his body responding instantly to the pressure of you pressed so intimately against him. You could feel just how much he wanted this, wanted you, his breath hitching as his hands gripped your hips tighter, trying to steady himself.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You gonna let me take care of you, Chip?” Your voice was soft, sweet, but dripping with a seductive promise that made his head spin.

For a moment, Chip couldn’t think—his mind spiraling as your words sank in. Take care of him. All he’d ever wanted was for someone to see him, to really see him, and care about him in the way you were offering. It was overwhelming, the idea that you could feel this way about him, that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

His chest tightened, a mixture of desire and something deeper bubbling up inside him. He nodded slowly, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke. “Yeah… yeah, I want that.” His words were barely audible, filled with need and vulnerability all at once.

You grinned, your lips brushing against his neck again as your hands slid up his chest, feeling the way his heart pounded beneath your fingertips. "Good," you whispered, your tone filled with a confidence that sent a shiver down his spine. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

Chip swallowed hard, his body trembling slightly as he let go of the tension he'd been holding onto for so long. He felt your hands on him, the warmth of your body pressed against his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel like he had to hold back. He didn’t feel like he had to be in control or guard himself.

You moved against him slowly, teasingly, your body swaying in just the right way to make him lose all sense of restraint. Chip’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands clutching at your waist, his mind lost in the haze of sensation. The idea that you wanted to take care of him—him—felt unreal, like a fantasy he'd never dared to hope for.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire as you rocked against him, his head falling back as he gave in completely.

You smiled, feeling the heat of the moment rise as you saw just how much you were affecting him, how vulnerable he was beneath you, how completely lost he was in the feeling of being wanted. You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “I can make you feel a whole lot better.”

Chip blinked, confusion flashing in his eyes as he tried to process your words. His brow furrowed, and before he could even ask what you meant, you were climbing off his lap. He squawked in protest, his hands instinctively reaching for you, not wanting the moment to end.

But any protest he had died on his lips when he saw what you were doing.

Your knees hit the floor, and his heart nearly stopped. His breath hitched in his throat, his entire body freezing as he watched you kneel between his legs. The sight of you looking up at him, that wicked, playful glint in your eyes, made his mind spin. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe what you were about to do.

Your hand slid over him, pressing firmly through the denim of his jeans, and Chip’s breath left him in a shaky exhale. His hands clenched the arms of the chair as he looked down at you, his pulse roaring in his ears. The feel of your touch, even through the fabric, sent a jolt of electricity through his entire body.

“Y/N…” Chip breathed, his voice breaking as his mind struggled to catch up with what was happening. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. His body reacted before his mind could, his hips shifting under your hand as he swallowed hard, his throat tight with anticipation.

You grinned up at him, your hand moving slowly, teasingly, as you kept your gaze locked on his. You could see the way his breath quickened, the way his body tensed, completely at your mercy. "Relax," you whispered, your voice soft and commanding all at once.

Chip could only nod, his mind spinning as he let go of the last shred of control he had. He watched you, unable to look away, as your fingers began working on the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper echoing in the quiet room. His breath caught in his throat as your hand slipped beneath the fabric, the feel of your skin on his sending a shockwave of desire through him.

This was what he had wanted—what he had dreamed of for so long. But now that it was happening, it was almost too much, too overwhelming, and yet, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

Of course, everything intensified when you pulled him completely free from his jeans, the fabric sliding down his hips as you worked with deliberate care. Chip’s breath hitched in disbelief as you wasted no time, nuzzling in at the base of him with a teasing smile, your warm breath against his skin sending a shockwave of sensation through him. His hands gripped the arms of the chair tighter, his knuckles turning white as he tried to process what was happening.

He couldn’t believe his luck. This—this—wasn’t something that ever happened to him. He was usually the one giving, always wanting to please, whether or not he wanted to receive in return. But now, you were turning everything on its head, taking control in a way that left him utterly helpless and overwhelmed with pleasure.

His mind raced, torn between the urge to let go completely and the instinct to pull back, but the moment your lips brushed against him, soft and teasing, any thought of retreat vanished. His body betrayed him, responding instantly, hips jerking slightly as a low groan escaped his throat.

"Fuck," Chip muttered, the word drawn out, his voice rough with desire. His head fell back against the chair, his mind clouded with the heat of the moment, the feel of your hands, your mouth, completely undoing him.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you moved slowly, deliberately, taking your time as if savoring every second. The sight of you kneeling before him, your lips teasing, your hands firm but gentle, was enough to drive him wild. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse racing as you took him further, inch by inch, your touch making it impossible for him to think straight.

Chip’s breathing grew ragged, his fingers flexing uselessly on the chair, trying to find something—anything—to hold onto as you worked him over. He could barely string a thought together, his mind reduced to a haze of pure sensation, and it took everything in him not to lose himself entirely.

“You’re… you’re really doing this,” he mumbled, his voice breathless, as though he still couldn’t believe it was real. And, God, he didn’t want you to stop.

You smiled up at him, your eyes gleaming with mischief as your hand tightened around him, sending a fresh wave of sensation crashing through his body. "And you taste really good," you teased, your voice low and sultry, laced with a sweetness that made Chip’s breath stutter in his chest.

Before he could even process your words, you leaned back in, this time with a newfound determination. You wasted no time, your mouth enveloping him in a way that sent his mind spiraling into a dizzying blur of pleasure. Chip’s body tensed, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he leaned his head back against the chair, gripping the edges so hard his knuckles turned white.

It felt like his brain was melting, the heat of your mouth, the way you moved with deliberate, agonizing precision, unraveling him inch by inch. His vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps, each one more desperate than the last. Every sensation, every touch, was heightened, the world around him fading away until all he could feel, all he could think about, was you.

You were relentless, going to town on him like you were on a mission, and Chip could do nothing but surrender to the waves of pleasure rolling through him. His hips bucked involuntarily as you worked him over, your lips, your tongue, moving in perfect sync with your hand. It was almost too much, and yet, not enough all at once. He couldn’t get enough of you.

"Fuck," he groaned the only word he seemed to remember, his voice rough, almost breaking as you pulled another shiver from deep within him. His mind was gone, lost somewhere between reality and bliss, his only tether to this world the sensation of your mouth on him.

Chip was falling apart, his body trembling under your expert touch, and the more you moved, the more he let go. Every moan, every gasp, every choked sound he made only seemed to spur you on, pushing him further and further until he was right on the edge, teetering dangerously close to losing himself completely.

He didn’t care anymore if he was too loud, didn’t care if the world outside the bar was still spinning. He could barely even remember where he was, his entire existence narrowed down to this one moment, to you, to the way you made him feel like he was coming undone at the seams.

It was overwhelming, the pleasure hitting him like a tidal wave, crashing over him in relentless waves until all he could do was let go. His hands fumbled for purchase, his fingers tangling in your hair as he groaned your name, the sound breaking off into a desperate plea as you pushed him closer, and closer to the edge.

And when Chip finally couldn’t take it anymore, when the pressure that had been building inside him finally broke, his body tensed, and a low, guttural moan escaped his throat. His voice was thick with desperation as he warned, "I’m going to come—"

But before he could get there, you pulled away suddenly, your hand gripping him firmly at the base, cutting off all sensation. His entire body jolted, and a broken, frustrated cry tore from his lips. "Why?!" he whined, his eyes wide, desperate, and full of disbelief.

You smirked, your voice teasing yet full of promise as you whispered, “Because I’m not done with you.”

Chip's frustration was palpable, his body still thrumming with need, every muscle coiled tight as he struggled to recover from the abrupt stop. But the moment he saw you rise to your feet, that playful gleam still in your eyes, and begin to slowly remove your top, his breath caught in his throat.

His eyes widened as you peeled away the fabric, revealing your skin inch by inch, and the irritation that had been burning inside him vanished in an instant. Instead, all he could do was stare, his gaze locked on you, completely entranced. The soft glow of the dim lights in the bar cast a warm glow over your skin, and Chip's heart raced in his chest as he took in every detail.

"Fuck..." he breathed, his voice a low rasp, filled with awe and desire. The sight of you—standing there, unashamed, confident, and wanting him—was enough to make his mind go blank all over again.

“Do you know any other words, honey? Or are you fucked stupid already?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful dominance as you hovered over him. The wicked grin on your face sent a shiver down Chip’s spine, and his mind struggled to keep up with the sensation coursing through his body.

“I–uh…” Chip stuttered, completely flustered by the combination of your words and the feel of your body pressed against his. His mind was hazy, his thoughts scattered, and he couldn’t think straight. His lips parted, desperate for words, but all that came out was a needy, “Y/N, please…”

You smirked, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him, your hands sliding over his chest as you leaned in close. “I’m glad you still have your manners, my dumb boy,” you cooed, your tone both sweet and condescending, the words sending another wave of heat rushing through his veins.

Chip thought he would hate it—the way you were teasing him, degrading him just enough to make him feel like he was completely under your control. But instead, it had the opposite effect. His heart raced faster, his skin flushed, and every word you said made his desire for you burn hotter, stronger. He was already so far gone, so completely consumed by the moment, that he didn’t care anymore. He wanted more—needed more of you, no matter how you gave it to him.

His eyes locked onto yours, wide and desperate, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out, “Please… don’t stop.”

Your grin widened, your fingers trailing down his stomach, teasing him as you took your time. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you stepped closer until you were right in front of him.

His hands instinctively reached for you, but you gently pushed him back against the chair, keeping control, your gaze locked with his. "You're going to sit back," you whispered, your voice low and commanding, "and let me take care of you."

Chip’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his pulse racing as he nodded, his eyes still glued to you. His body was already on fire, every nerve on edge, but now the anticipation of what you were about to do was almost unbearable.

You grinned, clearly loving the effect you were having on him, the power you held over him in this moment. With a slow, deliberate motion, you began to slide your bottoms down, letting them drop to the floor, exposing yourself completely to Chip. His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he stared up at you, utterly entranced by the sight.

Without a word, you climbed back into his lap, the heat of your bare skin pressing against his as you kissed him, deep and slow, savoring the way he responded. Chip groaned into your mouth, his hands moving immediately, instinctively, to cup your breasts. His touch was needy, desperate, his fingers squeezing gently as he explored you, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as you moaned in his mouth.

The feeling of his hands on you, the way his breath hitched as you kissed him, made your whole body hum with anticipation. You could feel how badly he wanted this—how badly he wanted you—and the way his touch became more urgent, more insistent, only fueled your desire.

You pressed your body closer, grinding against him as your lips moved together, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. Chip's moans grew louder, his grip on you tightening as he lost himself in the sensation, every inch of his body responding to your touch.

He pulled back for just a second, breathless and wide-eyed, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "You're perfect... so perfect."

You smiled against his lips, your voice teasing as you whispered back, "Good boy."

“Fuck me, please, please, please,” Chip cried out, his voice ragged and desperate, his entire body trembling beneath you. The words came out in a rush, his need overtaking every ounce of restraint he had left.

You leaned in close, teasing him with a soft, mocking coo, “Oh, my stupid little baby, I will. You don’t have to cry.” You grinned wickedly, swiping your thumbs under his eyes, even though there were no actual tears, your touch just enough to send another shiver down his spine.

Chip lifted his arms obediently, his breathing heavy, and you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it aside as you admired the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. The tension between you was electric, the air thick with anticipation as you positioned yourself above him, his hands gripping your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you finally sank down on him.

Chip let out a guttural moan, his head falling back against the chair as you took him in completely, the overwhelming sensation making his entire body tense beneath you. His hands tightened on your hips, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he tried to process the rush of pleasure flooding through him.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice barely audible as you began to move, your body sliding against his in a slow, teasing rhythm. You could feel the way his muscles tensed, the way his grip on you tightened as if he was trying to keep himself grounded, but the more you moved, the more he lost himself in the sensation.

You smiled down at him, your own breath hitching as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "There you go, baby."

Chip’s response was nothing more than a broken moan, his mind completely gone, lost to the feeling of you, of the way your body moved against his, of the overwhelming pleasure that had been building for what felt like forever. And as you rode him, slow and deliberate, Chip could only cling to you, completely at your mercy, and loving every second of it.

“Does it–ahh–does it feel good for you?” Chip whimpered, his voice shaky and breathless, his eyes wide with need as he looked up at you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, desperate to make sure you were feeling even a fraction of the intensity that was flooding through him.

You smiled down at him, your breath catching as you moved against him, your body sinking deeper with each slow, deliberate motion. “Oh, baby,” you purred, leaning in close enough that your lips brushed against his ear, “it feels fucking amazing.”

Your words made Chip’s body jolt beneath you, a needy groan escaping his lips as you continued to move, each motion slow but firm, driving him wild. The way your body enveloped him, the heat and friction between you both, had his mind spinning, but hearing that it felt good for you—really good—made his heart pound even harder.

"God, you're perfect," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his hips bucking up instinctively as you continued to ride him, his need to please you overriding everything else. "I just want to make you feel good."

You smiled, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers as you leaned in close again, your lips brushing against his. "You already are, baby," you whispered, your voice breathy and filled with a teasing warmth. "You're being so good for me."

Chip whimpered at your words, his mind overwhelmed by the heady mix of praise and raw sensation. Every nerve in his body was on fire, his control slipping with every second. He barely knew what he was doing, lost in the whirlwind of desire, but somehow, in a blur of movement, the positions had shifted.

Suddenly, you were laying down on the table, your back arching slightly as Chip found himself on top of you. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his body trembling as he thrust into you, more instinct than thought guiding his movements now. His hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he moved, his rhythm uneven but full of intensity.

“Fuck,” Chip breathed, his voice rough, almost broken. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe how good it felt to be this close to you, to be buried inside you, moving with reckless abandon. He wanted to last, to savor the moment, but the way you felt beneath him, the soft gasps that escaped your lips, were driving him wild.

Your hands slid up his arms, gripping his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper. “That’s it, Chip,” you murmured, your voice sultry and filled with encouragement. “Just like that.”

Your words only fueled the fire inside him. Chip’s hips snapped forward harder, more desperate, his body completely giving in to the pleasure as he chased the high that had been building between you. He could barely think, barely breathe, but he didn’t care—he was completely lost in the moment, in you.

The table creaked beneath you, your bodies moving in sync, every thrust sending a wave of electricity through both of you. Chip’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he continued, his need to please you overtaking everything else.

“Am I—ah—doing good?” he managed to choke out between thrusts, his voice barely a whisper, filled with a raw vulnerability. He was desperate for reassurance, desperate to know that he was making you feel as good as you were making him feel.

Your nails scraped lightly down his back, sending a shiver through him as you smiled up at him, your voice low and sultry as you whispered, “So good, Chip. You’re amazing.”

Those words sent Chip over the edge. His body tensed, every muscle tightening as he lost himself in the rhythm, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. The only thing on his mind now was you, the way your body moved beneath his, the way you felt so perfectly wrapped around him.

"I’m gonna come, Y/N," Chip groaned, his voice strained, trembling with the intensity of everything building inside him. His movements grew more erratic, his hips snapping harder against you as he fought to keep control, though he knew he was seconds away from losing it completely.

You could feel how close he was, his body trembling with the effort, his breath ragged and uneven. Your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him even closer as you whispered, your voice dripping with need, "Give it to me, baby."

Those words, that permission, sent him spiraling over the edge.

With a broken, desperate moan, Chip’s body tensed, his hips bucking one last time as he lost himself completely in the pleasure. His entire body shuddered, waves of heat crashing over him as he buried himself inside you, giving you everything he had.

His breath came out in short, gasping pants, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as the last of the tension drained from him. He was shaking, overwhelmed by the intensity of the release, and for a moment, he could barely think, his mind blank as he clung to you.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling as he tried to catch his breath, still lost in the haze of everything that had just happened.

You smiled, your hands sliding up his back in a soothing gesture as you held him close, your own breath still ragged from the intensity of it all. "That’s my good boy," you whispered, your lips brushing his ear as you ran your fingers through his hair.

You and Chip sorted yourselves out, getting cleaned up and dressed before stepping back into the quiet night, the air cool against your flushed skin. As you began walking home, Chip felt a warmth settle in his chest that had nothing to do with the physical heat between you earlier. His heart soared when you casually grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. That small, intimate gesture made him feel like everything had changed—for the better.

But then, suddenly, a cold realization hit him, causing his steps to falter. “Oh my god,” Chip said, his voice full of panic as he looked at you with wide eyes. “You never came!”

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet street, and you stopped walking, tugging him into a hug. Chip immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, but still looking slightly panicked. “What’s this for?” he asked, confusion lacing his words.

“You’re the sweetest man alive, Chip,” you said through your laughter, pulling back just enough to grin up at him. You leaned in, giving him a soft, lingering kiss that made his mind spin all over again. When you pulled away, Chip’s lips followed yours instinctively, still looking dazed and concerned.

Before he could speak, you brushed your thumb over his cheek, whispering, “I was only worried about you.” Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you tickled his sides, making him jump and giggle, his worry dissolving into laughter.

“But,” you added, your tone turning teasing again as you looked up at him with a wink, “if you want to go again, you can sleep in my bed tonight.”

Chip’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open in shock and excitement. Without missing a beat, he nodded, completely floored by your offer. And then—he was off. Grabbing your hand, he tugged you down the street, practically dragging you along as he picked up the pace.

You couldn’t help but laugh maniacally as Chip half-sprinted down the street, pulling you behind him like a man on a mission. You’d never seen him move so fast in your life, and it only made your laughter echo louder.

Chip glanced back at you, his face flushed with a mix of excitement and affection, but his steps didn’t slow. He wasn’t going to waste any time getting home tonight—not with the promise of you waiting for him. And as you both hurried through the night, hand in hand, the laughter between you felt like the start of something new, something neither of you were going to let go of anytime soon.

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#chip taylor x you #chip taylor x reader #chip taylor #chip taylor smut #68 kill #matthew gray gubler #mgg

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 8 months ago

Text

"obstinate, headstrong girl" part 1 - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

in which you meet the incredibly irritating (who said that?) aaron hotchner at a party. you do not hit it off.

wc: 4.6k

cw: enemies to lovers! mentions of food & alcohol, jemily agenda (i'm not sorry), reader is hella stubborn, hotch is kind of a little bitch

a/n: this is part 1 😈 there will be more, trust

big fat thank you to my bestie @cerisereids for all her help workshopping / brainstorming with me! i also got the BEAUTIFUL dividers from the immensely talented @saradika-graphics

You hate bars. Most of the time, they feel like a meat market, with men ogling you up and down, surveying you like they have x-ray vision and are trying to determine if you’re worth the chase.

Tonight is slightly different in that you are not going to this particular bar to chat up men. Your very good friend, Penelope Garcia, invited you and your other friend, Jacqueline, to a bar for a coworker’s birthday. Not just any coworker. The coworker, the Derek Morgan, that Penelope just rants and raves about. They are soulmates, from what you understand, in a weirdly flirtatious, sibling-type relationship?

Penelope has tried to explain it to you and has always ended up confusing both you and herself. It is what it is, she’s said in the past. He’s my chocolate thunder, and I’m his babygirl.

You think it’s best not to try and unpack that.

Jacqueline is a couple of years younger than you and Penelope. She’s just a couple of years out of college, whereas you’re a couple of years out of college, plus a couple more years. Jacqueline is sweet. She’s painfully shy, though, and you and Penelope are determined to break her out of her shell. There’s another coworker of Penelope’s who, from what you’ve heard, would be a perfect fit for Jacqueline. His name is Spencer, and he’s supposedly this young, cute genius. Like, actually a genius. Certifiably.

The goal tonight is for Penelope to find a moment to introduce Jacqueline and Spencer. You’re tagging along so that those intentions could be a little bit better masqueraded. You and Penelope also know for a fact that sweet, sheltered Jacqueline would not attend a party at a bar full of strangers by herself.

You don’t mind being a chaperone, of sorts. Jacqueline is like a little sister. You just want her to be happy, so you don a cute red dress, pick up Jacqueline in an Uber, and off you go.

The bar isn’t nearly as crowded as you thought it would be. It’s still busy, sure, but there’s enough room to walk around without bumping into someone. That seems to calm Jacqueline’s obvious nerves when you enter the establishment. Your eyes scan the place until you finally spot what appears to be a party room just off the main part of the bar, and you see a flash of familiar blonde hair with pink highlights.

“There’s Penny,” you say to Jacqueline, and nudge her with your elbow to follow you.

You’re the leader as you serpentine through the bar patrons, and Penelope turns around to spot you just as you reach her. “My sweets!” she squeals, wrapping both you and Jacqueline into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for coming!” Penelope gestures to the party room, which is open for integration into the rest of the bar. It all seems very flowy and casual, with guests either standing or sitting with a drink in hand, talking and laughing with one another.

There’s a table in the corner with decadent cupcakes that you’d bet are homemade, all crowded on a tiered stand, and various birthday decorations hanging from the walls. The jukebox in the corner plays 80s and 90s hits. You spot the birthday boy in an instant across the room, and you know it’s him from Penelope’s ridiculously detailed descriptions. He’s like a cheetah, personified, Penelope said before, and yeah, that might be accurate.

Except for the bright blue, glittery party hat strapped crookedly to his head and the sparkly sash around his shoulders that says BIRTHDAY BOY in big, bold letters.

“There’s snacks, and water in the corner if you’re not feeling booze,” Penelope goes into full hostess mode and points to everything. “How about you lovelies get some drinks, and then I’ll introduce you around?” She suggests.

Jacqueline is ever the quiet one in all social situations, and you can tell she is overwhelmed by the noise, or maybe the amount of people that she doesn’t know. You know that she would be a little less nervous with a drink in her system, so you nod to Penelope’s suggestion and agree to meet up with her after visiting the bar.

Jacqueline follows you like a lost puppy as you snake through the crowd again. One of the few perks of being pretty women, though, is that once you reach the bustling bar, your orders are quickly taken.

You get an amaretto sour for yourself, a Malibu pineapple for Jacqueline, and she leans against the bar next to you as you wait for your drinks. “Lots of people here!” Jacqueline exclaims with a sheepish chuckle. She smooths the ends of her cinnamon-colored bob, one of her nervous habits you’ve picked up on over the few years you’ve been friends.

“Yeah, but we love Penny, and she loves all the people in there,” You nod towards the party room. “So it’s like we know they’re cool by association, y’know?”

“I guess,” Jacqueline shrugs, unconvinced. She’s lived a fairly sheltered life, from what you understand. Strict parents, so she never dated in high school, and always focused on her studies in college rather than a social life. It’s good to get her out of her shell.

You’re given your drinks and you head back to the party room, where Penelope is speaking to two men. They’re both tall, but one is younger, with brown hair and a patterned sweater vest. The other is older, with dark, nearly obsidian, hair, and stark, narrowed eyes to match. He’s in dark, belted jeans, with a black polo to match his hair. When you and Jacqueline approach Penelope, you lock eyes with the older man for a fleeting moment.

He looks at you like you’re an outsider. And sure, maybe in this particular situation, you are. But with his tapered eyes, watching your every breath, you get the feeling that he thinks you shouldn’t be here.

Penelope ushers you and Jacqueline into the conversation and introduces you. “This is Y/N, and Jacqueline, my two really good friends,” she says, then gestures to the lanky, younger man first. “This is the brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, and the Unit Chief of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner.”

Your eyes land on Aaron and he outstretches his hand, obviously out of obligation. “Pleasure to meet you both,” Aaron says coolly, and you shake his hand chastely. Your eyes flicker over to where Jacqueline shakes Dr. Reid’s hand. He’s already insisting she call him Spencer.

Penelope was right, you think. Spencer and Jacqueline have an immediate connection.

“Likewise,” you say to Aaron, merely matching the indifferent energy he’s putting out. Penelope, in true hostess fashion, excuses herself to check on Derek, leaving the four of you in an awkward conversation square, with Aaron and Spencer facing you and Jacqueline directly.

“Penelope says you’re all in a book club together?” Spencer proffers as a conversation starter. He’s looking directly at Jacqueline, like he’s got tunnel vision, like she’s the only other person in the room.

She nods and sips her cocktail through the thin plastic straw. “We’ve been going through the classics, one by one. Started with Pride and Prejudice a couple of years ago, now we’re working on War and Peace,” she explains.

“Oh, fascinating,” Spencer seems incredibly interested by this. “I love Tolstoy. Did you know his wife, Sophia, helped him tremendously during the editing process? Over seven years, she hand wrote the manuscript eight different times, all while carrying and birthing four children.”

Jacqueline loves weird facts like this, so she beams. You smile softly at this and are immediately met with thoughts of how tooth-achingly sweet these two would be if they got together.

You and Aaron play audience as Spencer and Jacqueline’s conversation continues for a few moments more, until finally, Spencer suggests they sit at a booth to continue. Jacqueline shoots you a look, like, sorry for abandoning you with the grumpy guy! And you merely shrug as you are left alone with Aaron.

“Well, aren’t they just adorable?” You flash a bright smile, and when your eyes meet Aaron’s, it falls. He’s so stoic and unemotional. You know he’s just standing with you to be polite, but at the same time, if he’s so uninterested in having a conversation with you, why is he still here?

Aaron gives an impassive hum of civil agreement, and you clear your throat. “So, you’re Penelope’s boss, then?” you ask, rather than simply make an excuse to leave this awkward, cringey hellhole of a conversation. Maybe some petty part of you wants to see who will break first.

“That’s correct,” Aaron’s fingers are wrapped around the glass tumbler of what is presumably whiskey that is in his hand. His forearm flexes a little as he shifts the glass in his palm.

“What’s that like, working for the FBI?” you ask, shifting your weight to one hip as if to tell him that you’re getting comfortable, that he shouldn’t expect to go anywhere.

“About the same as working anyplace else, I’d expect,” Aaron’s giving you absolutely nothing to work with, so you’re incredibly thankful when Penelope approaches the two of you again.

“Oh, look at that!” Penelope squeals, squeezing your arm. She nods over to Spencer and Jacqueline, sitting across from one another at a booth, both leaning forward on the table, endearingly engaged in conversation with each other.

Jacqueline’s babyish face is plastered with an earnest smile, and you love seeing your friend so captivated and clearly in her element with Spencer.

Penelope was right, they’re clearly well-suited.

Unlike you and Aaron.

“And what are you two talking about over here?” Penelope croons, waving a teasing finger between you and Aaron.

“Not anything in particular,” Aaron’s deep voice beats you to it, and you feel your jaw tense slightly. He avoids contact with you, just stares at Spencer and Jacqueline.

“Yeah, Penny, I was hoping you’d introduce me to the rest of your team,” you suggest, smiling saccharinely at Aaron before making pleading eyes to your darling blonde friend.

Penelope’s chocolatey brown eyes dart from you, to Aaron, and back, and you can almost see the gears shift in her head. “Right,” she gets it, and you nearly sigh in relief. “C’mon then, Y/N, let me show you off!”

You nod curtly to Aaron. “Nice meeting you,” you spout off, totally out of obligation.

“Likewise,” says Aaron, mirroring how you’d thrown the terse colloquialism at him before.

Your nostrils flare and Penelope manages to drag you away before you rip him a new one. “What the hell is all the animosity about?” Penelope asks as soon as you’re out of earshot. You see that Derek, the birthday boy, has approached Aaron in your absence.

“Not animosity,” you correct Penelope, taking a chug of your Malibu pineapple. “He doesn’t like me, for some reason. Seemed to have made his mind up on that real fast.”

Penelope scoffs. “Hotch?” You deduce quickly that this is Aaron’s nickname. “He’s such a sweetheart. You must have just caught him in a bad moment, Y/N. I swear, he’s one of the sweetest guys I know!”

You purse your lips and feign an open mind. Penelope introduces you to the rest of her team - David, an older Italian man whose glass of wine cost about three times as much as your cocktail, then JJ and Emily, a blonde and a raven-haired woman who are obviously in love.

Emily’s got her palm splayed across the small of JJ’s back, and the blonde leans into her touch. You wonder briefly how their relationship was approved by Aaron Hotchner, because, as you understand it, he’s their boss and he can be quite the stickler.

“He can be a grump at times, that’s for sure,” Emily says before taking a sip of her wine. “But he’s a really great boss. He’d do anything for any one of us.”

“Including going to bat for us staying on the team together after our relationship became public,” JJ adds, and you furrow your brows, shooting a sideways glance to the man in question. He’s still across the room, speaking with Derek, leaning against an empty spot on the wall and nursing his glass tumbler of whiskey.

That guy? You think. That guy went to bat for the benefit of other people?

“That surprises me,” you admit. “He was so cold when we spoke just a few minutes ago.”

JJ, Emily, and Penelope all seem to share a look. They clearly know something you don’t. “Well,” Penelope starts, her voice inclining. “He’s sort of… going through a hard time right now,” she scrunches up her nose and shrugs her shoulders, as if to indicate that she can’t really say more on the matter.

It’s none of your business, you remind yourself, but you also want to smack Penelope for dangling a carrot like that.

“If he comes off obtrusive, just know you’re not experiencing the real Hotch,” JJ concludes. You spot Emily squeezing her hip as if to say that’s a good way to put it.

Whatever that means, you think, and shrug your shoulders. “No skin off my back,” you attempt to appear nonchalant. Hopefully they won’t be able to tell that the thought of someone not liking you makes you want to rip your hair out.

“Right,” Emily agrees, just as JJ and Penelope share a look.

The two blondes smirk at each other. Simultaneously, they say, “Profilers.” And you wonder what the hell that’s supposed to mean.

Over the next thirty minutes, you’re shown around the room by Penelope, introduced to a few more people. Finally, Penelope notices that the cupcakes are all gone and runs off to the kitchen, where she has more store in case of this very specific emergency.

You find yourself tucked away at a table in the corner of the party room, halfway hidden by the imposing and comically large jukebox. As you scan the room, you notice Jacqueline and Spencer still at the booth, still engaged in what appears to be very riveting conversation. Jacqueline’s got this demure, girlish smile on her face, and lightly flushed cheeks.

“What do you make of that?” A voice asks, and you don’t see anyone around. You lean back in your seat and can see through the sliver of visibility between the jukebox and the wall. That Italian man, David, has just asked Aaron the question, gesturing across the room to where Spencer and Jacqueline sit.

“Hm,” is all Aaron has to say, and you scowl, furrowing your brows as you watch him watch your friend. “She seems nice enough. Kind of a dud, though, isn’t she?”

“A dud?” David repeats, scoffing. “She’s been keeping up with Boy Wonder for nearly an hour now. I’d say she’s either an alien or a miracle.”

Damn straight, you think.

“I suppose,” says Aaron, and you roll your eyes. He must hold an ungodly amount of pride. Probably totes it along with his stupidly expensive whiskey and his judgmental expressions and opinions about people he doesn’t know. Sure, you’re casting judgment on someone you don’t know, too. But this is different… somehow. Jacqueline is obviously very earnest and sweet, and Aaron is acting like he’s suspicious of her.

“Garcia’s other friend seems sweet,” David goes on to say. You’re not ashamed to admit that your ears perk up a little at this. “She’s fun. Asked me about my wine. Made a joke about cutting a rug with me on the dance floor.”

“She’s something,” Aaron exhales as he says this, and you feel your jaw tighten a little.

Something? What the hell does that mean?

“What the hell does that mean?” David shares your train of thought, though his voice is lined with an omniscient, teasing lilt. “She’s cute. You don’t want to ask her for her number?”

“No,” Aaron says quickly, too quickly. “No, I’m not even slightly tempted.”

You feel your ears burn, and you look down at the empty glass in your hand. This has been your only drink tonight, and you’ve been nursing it for the better part of an hour. You let the condensation slicken your palm.

“What’s the matter with you?” David goes on to ask. “She’s very sweet, and she’s got a great sense of humor. And she’s beautiful, I might add. Why aren’t you interested?”

You stand up from your seat, deciding you’ve had enough eavesdropping for one night. You don’t want to hear what faults Aaron Hotchner saw in you after a three-minute conversation. Feeling a bit self-protective, you march past David and Aaron without so much as looking at either of them. You don’t know if they notice you.

You resolve not to care.

Jacqueline joins you at the bar about thirty minutes later, and is smiling like an idiot.“So, Spencer’s really nice,” she says, breaking out her ID so she can buy another drink. She’s so smooth-skinned and utterly gorgeous that she does, in fact, get ID’d every time she orders a drink.

“Yeah?” You smirk at Jacqueline just as the bartender comes back with your second drink and takes your friend’s order. “He seems really into you, too.” Even if his friend is a massive prick.

“I think we’re gonna go out,” Jacqueline beams, biting her lip anxiously. “Like, on a date.”

“That’s great!” You grin, glancing behind Jacqueline to see Spencer speaking with Aaron across the now-dwindling crowd. At this point, there’s just a handful of patrons for the bar, and only Penelope’s team remains in the party room for Derek. “You should! He’s obviously very polite, maintains good conversation. I’m only seeing green flags.” Except that his boss is a judgmental tool.

“I just get so nervous, y’know?” Your friend says as the bartender brings her drink.

“I know you do, sweetie, but he’s just a guy,” you begin. “He’s not some cosmic being who will alter the trajectory of your entire life simply by taking you on a date. He’s-”

“What?” Jacqueline follows your eyes, whipping her head around with no amount of subtlety. Her cinnamon curls flounce as she notices the same thing you are. Aaron’s staring at you, those unrelenting raven eyes. What’s he trying to do, burn a hole through your head?

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you mutter.

“What is it?” Jacqueline’s constantly aware of the people around her. It’s a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, since you’re her Emotional Support Friend.

“I just… don’t worry about it,” you wave it away, not wanting to stress her out.

“No, what is it?” God. He’s still looking at you, maintaining his conversation with Spencer. You let your gaze wander and you see his lips moving. Is he talking about you so blatantly?

You suppose you’re talking about him, but still.

“I just don’t like Aaron, that’s all.”

“Why not?” Jacqueline’s nutmeg brows furrow, and you meet her confused expression with a shrug.

“We just don’t vibe. Don’t worry about it, Jackie, seriously,” you nod. “I’m not gonna, like, challenge him to a duel.”

Before Jacqueline can attempt to defend someone she doesn’t know (God bless her), Penelope’s waving at you from the party room and beckoning the two of you towards her.

You and Jacqueline grab your drinks and oblige. Derek and Emily are shifting tables out of the way, creating a small, makeshift dance floor in the middle of the party room.

JJ is queuing up a few songs on the jukebox, and when “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin comes filtering through the speakers, a slightly tipsy Penelope is singing into her margarita and demanding that Derek slow dance with her.

You end up standing by Spencer and Aaron, to your dismay, and you think for a second that Spencer isn’t going to ask Jacqueline to dance. That wouldn’t be totally out of character, but he does, and Jacqueline’s beaming, leaving you alone with Aaron.

You let out a slightly annoyed huff and stir your cocktail with the little plastic red straw. You meet his unwavering gaze with narrowed eyes. “Do you like to dance?” You ask with half-assed interest.

“Not if I can help it,” Aaron says, and you wonder for a moment if he’s joking. The ever-serious look on his face says otherwise.

“I was looking for a pretty young lady!” A voice cuts in, and you turn to see David Rossi, of all people, standing before you.

You smile softly. You know he isn’t flirting, he isn’t romantically interested in you, that he’s just being a nice older man and going out of his way to make you feel included. And you can’t help but feel warmth from him. “We were just talking about dancing,” you bring him into the conversation, clocking how Aaron’s jaw visibly tenses.

“Ah, dancing. I remember when we had clubs all up and down the streets. You could go in and just dance until your feet hurt,” David prattles, and you purse your lips in the side of your mouth. He only looks like he’s in his early sixties, but you resist the urge to call him old, to tell him he’s acting like a grandpa.

“Do you like to dance?” Aaron’s asking you all of a sudden. You spot Penelope and Derek slow dancing as well as Spencer and Jacqueline. Emily and JJ have even joined in on the fun.

“I do,” you say simply, pursing your lips at him. And maybe it’s a little mean, but you look at David and plaster a devilish little grin on your face and hold out your hand. “Dave? Wanna cut a rug with me?”

Aaron watches as Rossi throws his head back in one of those wheezy, old man laughs.

“It’s been a long time since a pretty young lady asked me to dance,” the Italian man jokes, and Aaron knows that is simply not true. As a best-selling author, Rossi weirdly gets a lot of groupies.

Aaron feels like he has a smokescreen up, and behind it, he’s fuming. He’s not jealous of Rossi, because he knows Dave’s just being friendly. But Aaron doesn’t think it shouldn’t be Dave dancing with you. It should be him.

He doesn’t know why he told you he doesn’t dance. Maybe it’s this whole divorce with Haley. It was finalized nearly six months ago, but Aaron’s still reeling from it, he supposes. He’s not been on a date. He’s not even so much as looked at another woman in a romantic capacity, until you walked in tonight. Your hair looks so shiny, your face made up all glowy, like you literally have a halo hovering over you.

It’s incredibly frustrating.

He didn’t know what to do. He panicked. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now, or at least, that’s what he’s been telling himself for the past six months. He wants to focus on his job and on being a good dad to Jack.

But, god, the way your dress hits you right above the knee. He wants desperately to see your thighs. He’s been thinking about them all night, actually, how supple the skin might be, how sensitive. That’s why he’s been so cold to you all night - he’s trying to push you out of his mind, trying to focus on anything else. But you’ve got an attitude and a good sense of humor, and he couldn’t help but stare.

It’s the same way he can’t help but stare now, when Rossi places one hand on your waist and clasps your other one. You’ve got one palm on Rossi’s shoulder, the other holding your drink as you occasionally sip it.

You’re laughing and Rossi’s got crows’ feet from smiling, and he sways with you to the music. That song from Top Gun. Aaron wonders briefly if you’re old enough to have even seen Top Gun in the theater.

You’re young. You’re not too young, per se, but you’re right on the line, Aaron thinks. He’s gripping his tumbler of whiskey - his third since you entered the party because god, does he need a vice right now - and his jaw is clenched as he watches Rossi twirl you out.

Your laugh is heavenly and melodic and Aaron, for a split second, considers leaving just because of it.

Aaron leans against the wall by the jukebox, the odd man out, with your friend Jacqueline dancing with Spencer, Garcia with Morgan, and, of course, JJ with Emily. He doesn’t mind being the odd man out, watching his team have a good time. It’s you he feels excluded from.

Okay, maybe you’re not totally sober, you realize, as David twirls you out a second time. You hold on tight to your drink, but your steps aren’t completely precise, and your back slams into a muscled chest with a clumsy grunt. Amaretto sour splashes over the side of your glass and onto a pair of brown, Italian loafers.

Gargantuan hands graze down your elbows, then clench your forearms as you regain your balance, and you turn around to see the brick wall of a person you’ve run into. Aaron’s stupidly dark, hazelnut eyes are drawing down your body. They bore into you and you feel your entire face flush, all the way down to your collarbone.

“You spilled your drink,” Aaron exhales sharply through his nose, and you feel your expression harden.

“It was an accident,” you bite back, taking a step away from him, enforcing the space you desperately need to keep from clawing his eyes out. You don’t hate people. But, god, is this man getting under your skin.

Aaron opens his mouth, and you think for a split-second that he’s about to reassure you. But he just clamps his mouth shut, into a straight line like a ruler. “Right,” is all he says. You take a deep, serrated breath and turn pointedly on your heel.

As you return to David to dance, Derek cuts in, and you and Penelope swap partners. Derek is respectful as he places a hand round the small of your back, and you smile softly when you see Jacqueline and Spencer. They’re barely moving, and Jacqueline’s gray-green eyes are looking up into Spencer’s brown ones, and you nod in their direction. “God, they’re cute, aren’t they?”

“It’s a miracle Pretty Boy’s lasted this long,” Derek chuckles. You arch a brow at this, so he continues. “He doesn’t do too well with the ladies. Not like yours truly,” he jokes, flashing his teeth.

“Oh, please,” you tease playfully. You tug at his sparkly blue birthday sash to further your point. Derek laughs and spins you around.

“So what’s going on with you and Hotch?” Derek asks. You roll your eyes.

“Nothing,” you insist. “I barely know him. I barely know any of you, besides Penelope. God, you guys are really mixed up in each other’s lives, huh? I’m definitely not that close with my coworkers.”

“Oh, we’re not just close,” Derek laughs. “We’re family.”

“And Aaron is, what, the overbearing father?” You ask. You’ve had a couple drinks, and your filter is more or less nonexistent.

“See, I knew there was something going on between you two,” Derek teases. You glare at him. He holds one hand up defensively. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop, but you’re in for trouble, sweetheart.”

“How so?”

Derek nods over to Jacqueline and Spencer. Both their feet are still planted in the same spot, but they’re swaying together. It’s dorky as hell, but so cute you could cry. You understand what Derek means before he even says it. “You’re about to become friends-in-law. The more Jacqueline sees Spencer, the more you see Hotch.”

Your eyes flicker over to the man in question, now sitting at a table and talking with David. There’s some kind of magnetic tug, and Aaron’s eyes meet yours, and your knees buckle a little beneath you. Either you’re drunker than you thought, or you really are in trouble.

edit: read part 2 here

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner enemies to lovers #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner imagine #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you

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yesimwriting · 1 year ago

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Heyy ya!! Hwo you doing? I wanted to ask maybe you can write Coriolanus x reader when he gets to district after just finishing training for pacekeepers, or maybe where his tribute just arrived to the capitol and the reader maybe says the “what does my mentor do besides bring me roses?” Line? ❤️

A/n the turn around for this was so fast for me 😭 i got excited

hi!! i love these prompts and am so glad for the excuse to write something for him 😭,, also i didn't blatantly make the reader the district 12 tribute bc i didn't want to necessarily cute lucy gray out all together, but it's clear that she's from a poorer district and that being assigned to mentor her is an insult to the Snow name,, also reader pulls a katniss and volunteers for a younger family member bc the irony of that scratches an inch in my brain

Summary: After the very public slight of being assigned to mentor a female tribute from a lower district, all Snow can think about is the uphill battle that winning the Plinth prize will now be. Until, he realizes, that he's been given the first ever district volunteer who seems to have a quality that makes people care about her.

Warnings: my first time writing for a specific character, Coriolanus's internal thoughts are a little softer than they should be at some points but i love the accidental and deeply impractical crush trope so

---

Of Angels

The desperation masquerading as fierceness behind her eyes is undeniable. Coriolanus feels the way your panic, your shock as the weight of your own words dawn on you in his chest. He swallows, forcing down the feeling.

Take me--take me instead! The phrase is repeated again and again, shaky and pleading.

Something about the display, about the 12-year-old girl that desperately tries to cling to you as peace keepers push you forward, makes it hard to watch. Even worse, it makes it impossible to look away.

The first ever district volunteer. A suicide mission or a--a desperate call for attention? A decision made out of hysteria that you're already starting to regret?

He can't decide as the footage of you being ushered onto stage is played. Surely, Dr. Gaul and other Capitol officials won't find this acceptable. The concept of volunteering has always been reserved for the careers, the districts that produce well fed children that train for this. It's a way to allow them to pick their best, their strongest. It is not a way for someone to lay down their life for someone else.

"Are you saying you volunteer?"

You blink, eyes wild and bright as you openly survey the crowd. Coriolanus briefly thinks that you might attempt to take what he doubts is an actual out. You seem to be considering something before finally nodding once. The motion so stiff it makes you look smaller, like the girl whose name was originally called.

"Yes," you mumble. The softness of it is a personal accost. Your choice was made in panic, but that isn't who you are. You're not much of a performer or a fighter or even bold...you're not much of a chance at the Plinth Prize. "I-I volunteer."

----

In the end, he had come because of Tigris. She had insisted that there was a way to see his tribute as more than just another face from the districts, as more human than animal.

She loves that little girl enough to die in her place. If I was her, I'd want someone to tell me that my choice meant something. I'd want someone to show that they care about me.

The words had felt dismissible at first, but the more he thought about them, the more it made sense. Panem had seen the entire thing, had seen the way that his tribute continued to comfort the younger girl even after sentencing herself to death. There's a story worthy of a show in that.

If he can convince you to go on camera, to speak of the girl, of the choice...maybe he'd have a chance at his future. And if the public support manages to help you in some way or another, that'd only be an additional benefit. You love that girl enough to die for her, maybe that means you love her enough to fight tooth and nail to live for her as well.

The train that stops at each district pulls to a stop. The doors open, releasing the sound of tributes that are learning the consequences of attempting to cause issues for the peacekeepers.

A boy he vaguely recognizes steps out, and then a younger girl. Are you one of the tributes already risking their lives in an attempt to aggravate peacekeepers? Or maybe you're cowering at the back of the train, clinging onto the safety of a familiar space.

You prove to be neither. You emerge from the train, perfectly in tact and stable.

Coriolanus parts his lips, yet no words manage to come out. You're different in person, the white you're dressed in is objectively dirtier than it was when you were reaped and yet somehow, here in the dim, gray station it feels brighter. A stray beam of sunlight breaking through a cluster of clouds. A promise that the storm will end soon and that the angels have yet to abandon the earth.

Your dress is a simple thing, loose enough to be a hand-me-down or maybe even borrowed, the lace of the skirt falling farther down your knees than it should. That paired with the ribbon scraps tied to each side of your head make you look younger and cruelly innocent.

"Hello." The blandness of his own beginning forces a burning sort of regret to take over his chest. You attentively turn, expression kind and expecting. It only makes the embarrassment he doesn't fully understand scorch him from the inside out with more violence. He's once again struck with the desire to look away and finding himself incapable of doing so. "My name is Coriolanus Snow, and I'm your mentor."

You nod, features hardening. You've pieced it all together--his appearance, what he's saying, and where you are. He's revealed himself as part of the Capitol and now you can no longer watch him with kind, accepting eyes. The look you're giving him is almost enough to make him wish he could have presented this differently.

Coriolanus extends an arm, the carefully chosen pure white rose an olive branch. You blink, eyebrows drawing together before you slowly reach out and take the flower by its stem. Your fingertips brush against his own, the warmth of your skin is so shocking he has to remind himself not to flinch.

"A mentor?" You repeat the word like your only reason for doing so is to try out the foreign word on your tongue. "Does everyone get one or am I just lucky?" You look down at the rose you're now holding. "Or has the rumor that I'm a rebellion trick spread to the Capitol?"

The last question genuinely surprises him. It shouldn't, there had been some talk about why anyone from a poor district would ever choose to go into the games. The way you and the girl you saved reacted to each other could have been staged...but Coriolanus didn't think it was enough to warrant genuine rumors. Anyone that had looked at your eyes and seen the fear in them would have known that it was sacrifice. Is sacrifice. That girl means the world to you.

"No," he starts slowly, "No, everyone gets one and no one here has any preconceptions about you."

You raise your eyebrows, making it clear that you don't believe him. No preconceptions had been a strong way to phrase things, but the urge to assure you had taken over with no warning. You then look away, glancing around to take in your surroundings.

"Then why isn't there..." You trail off, your gaze landing firmly on him. "You're not supposed to be here."

He blinks. For the first time, it feels like you're truly looking at him. His own susceptibility to your wide eyes turns his stomach. You're the one that should feel like something up for display under his stare. "No, I'm not."

The admission forces the edge of your lips to pull upwards. "Alright," you hum, "So what does my mentor do for me besides bring me roses?"

"I do my best to take care of you."

For a second, all you do is stare. He's surprised you. The realization brings him more relief than it should. "The girl who you volunteered for..."

You tilt your head downwards, hiding your expression as your fingers carefully toy with the exterior of the soft petals. "My cousin," the explanation is low, cautious, "But we uh--we're more like sisters."

An in that he doesn't even have to work for. "I understand that." You look up, not bothering to hide your confusion. Maybe you weren't expecting something so human to come out. Maybe human works for you. "During the war, we took care of each other...and then after our parents passed, we were left in the care of our grandmother."

The silence that follows is tight, straining against the sympathies you're not willing to extend to someone like him. Your lips part, and Coriolanus is disgusted by the part of him that's curious about what's going to come next.

You're pushed back with no warning. His attention snaps towards the peacekeeper who is shoving against your shoulder with more force than necessary.

"Excuse--" No reaction, no response as another peacekeeper grabs your arm. "Excuse me, I'm her--" You're being dragged away in order to be packed into another vehicle of transportation with the rest of them.

Coriolanus stays near, doing his best to never lose sight of you in the chaos. A tribute breaks free from the hold of the peacekeepers and launches his body forward. An ill thought out escape attempt. The distraction is all Coriolanus needs. This is his chance to go after you, to cement a connection that will guarantee cooperation.

It's not the distraction that gets him to move or even thoughts of the Plinth prize, it's the final flash of angel white fabric as its forced back into darkness. He rushes forward before he can overthink, entering the vehicle just as the doors shut.

----

i think i might make a part 2!!

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #coriolanus x reader

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sunrizef1 · 10 months ago

Text

Jackie and Wilson

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings: mostly fluff, angst depending on how invested you get

Word count: 2.3k

Authors note: Jackie and Wilson by hozier btw, not proofread, also written at like 2 am

Charles wasn't having a great time. He'd just DNF’d out of his home race and now he was drowning his sorrows in alcohol at some random bar. He had to pretend to be happy though, considering he was surrounded by friends and coworkers who actually were having a great time.

However by this point, most of them were too drunk to even remember he was there. He was busy nursing a beer slowly, simply surveying the crowded bar.

He's moving to leave the place when suddenly his attentions caught by a loud laugh of someone entering the bar. He glances up, his eyes catching on you and his breath might actually stop for a moment.

You were beautiful. Your loud laugh echoed across the room toward him, entrancing him and pulling him in. You're smiling at the friend next to you and he's feeling the strange need to be the one you're smiling at.

He follows your figure as you make your way toward the bartop he's sat at, your friend walking away to talk to someone else. You come to a stop stood next to him and all he can do is stare like an idiot. Your attentions stuck on the bartender as you order and he waits impatiently for the moment you'll turn your gaze to him.

You order a martini and sit down at the stool next to him and Charles finally shakes himself out of his trance to stop the bartender before he can walk too far away, “Here, for her drink.”

The bartender takes the cash out of Charles’ hand and slides your card back over to you, knowing enough not to argue with Charles over this. You raise your eyebrows at the man next to you, tilting your head slightly at his confidence.

“You buy a lot of girls drinks?” you ask him, a slight laugh lacing your words.

Charles smiles in response, shaking his head lightly, “Not really, just had to do it for you.”

You blush, looking down at the floor abashedly. You look back up as the bartender hands you your drink and you take a sip in hopes of hiding your embarrassed expression.

“Do you live around here?” Charles asks, noting the abscense of his native accent.

“No, just visiting a friend,” you shake your head, taking a large sip of your drink, “Are you from here? Sounds like you might be.”

Charles quickly realizes you have no idea who he is and he leans toward slightly to keep the conversation going, “Yeah, born and raised here.”

You hum, taking yet another sip of your drink before setting it down with a clink. You turn even farther to your side to face him, “Is being incredibly hot a common trait in Monaco? Or is that just a you thing?”

He laughs, caught off guard at your boldness. His eyes trace your lips as you take another drink, almost reaching the bottom of your glass, “Do you wanna get out of here and find out?”

You bite your lip with a smile, glancing over to your friend before looking back at him, “I’d love to…”

He realizes your prompting for his name and quickly fills in the blank, “Charles.”

You perk up and stand from your chair, downing the last dredges of your drink, “I’d love to, Charles.”

Charles thinks he could listen to the sound of his name leaving your lips on repeat for forever.

“What’s your biggest fear?” Your melodic voice rings out in the silence of Charles’ room. He turns over in the bed to face you, eyes searching through the darkness of the room to try and find your eyes.

“I don’t like spiders, really,” He responds after a few moments of thinking. He watches as you glance toward the ceiling, thinking about his answer, “What about you?”

You look back toward him again, searching for a response, “Commitment, maybe.”

It’s not a particularly funny response but Charles still huffs a laugh, turning to pull you to his chest. You shift closer, eyes fluttering closed and head lying still against his skin.

Sleep comes easy for the both of you that night.

Charles’ eyes search his living room frantically, searching each surface thoroughly. He can hear the sound of your footsteps approaching as he moves the pillows around on the couch, tossing them toward the floor carelessly.

“What are you looking for?” You ask him, pulling on one of the many hoodies you had left at his house over your head from its position on the couch.

“My phone, can’t find it,” he replies absently, eyes not leaving the couch cushions. He can hear you approach him and suddenly your comforting hand is on his back. He looks up to see you stood quietly, holding his phone up in one hand.

He smiles down at you, grasping the phone from your fingers and pulling it away gently. But with the way you’re looking at him he seems to forget whatever important thing he had to do on his phone in the first place.

“Where was it?” He hums, eyes locked down on yours below him as he tosses the phone on the couch next to him.

“Left in in bed this morning,” you respond, smile curling up on your lips as you bring both of your hands between the two of you.

You push him back onto the couch and he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you with him. You wraps your arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his head.

“Glad you found it,” he doesn’t seem particularly glad about it now, more interested in you on top of him.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you respond and he takes a deep breath at the pet name, fingers rubbing small circles on your waist from their position on your hips.

You reach a hand up and run your hand through his messy hair, leaving Charles to admire your face as you focus on his hair.

The sun filters through the window, hitting your profile just right and Charles can’t help the large grin forming on his face.

He didn’t know a better feeling than your hands carding through his hair, soothing the previous craziness he had started to feel.

“Oh my god I think I saw him!” Charles snaps his head toward your outstretched hand, finger pointing toward a man walking suspiciously down the sidewalk.

Charles eases his foot off the gas pedal of your Lexus, letting the car roll down the road slowly.

“Are you sure that’s him?” Charles asks, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to see your friends boyfriend better.

Your friend had told you that she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her so here you and Charles were, riding around picking up clues. You had taken your Lexus since Charles’ car was way too identifiable.

“It’s definitely him, he’s got that giant stupid tattoo on his arm,” you reply, pulling out your phone to snap a few pictures of the man, “Can you follow him?”

Charles nods, turning the car slowly as the man turns a corner, making an attempt to move inconspicuously so the man doesn’t notice.

You start typing rapidly in your phone from the passengers seat, no doubt texting your friend who’s boyfriend you were currently following.

The two of you trail the man for a few blocks, watching as he suddenly walks into a restaurant on the corner.

“Park somewhere,” you call out, turning your head to watch him walk out to an outside table. Charles follows your order and parks the car strategically to where you can see his table through the front window of the car.

The man is alone when he sits down, not ordering anything and pulling out his phone to seemingly text someone.

It gets boring pretty quickly so you lean forward to connect your phone to the aux, deciding on some music to at least pass the time.

The opening notes of a Jackie Wilson song cut through the silence of the car and Charles glances toward the radio, completely unfamiliar with the song.

“What is this?” Charles asks over the sound of the American singers melodic voice. You look away from the man for a moment, a grin big on your face.

“Blues,” you laugh, bobbing along to the song. Charles laughs at your movements, watching as you dance happily, reveling in your joy.

The two of you let a few more songs play through, dancing around and laughing for the better part of an hour. Your attentions only diverted when you glance up and see a woman arriving at the man’s table.

You gasp, eyes widening as you pull your phone out of your pocket to snap a few pictures of the man and the woman at dinner in front of you.

“That dickhead!” you exclaim, turning down the volume of the radio in order to express your point.

Charles hums, eyes locked on the man and woman ahead, “He might not actually be cheating-”

Charles is interrupted by the couple sharing a kiss as the woman sits down and you and Charles lock eyes before bursting into laughter.

“I take it back,” Charles says as his laugh calms down, watching you pull your phone out for pictures once again. This time you catch a kiss and quickly send the picture off to your friend before sliding your phone away.

You seem content with your findings, choosing instead to turn your body and complain about the man you and Charles had been… stalking?

Charles smiles at the passionate look on your face as you defend your friend, putting the car in reverse to pull out of the parking lot.

As you drive home, Jackie Wilson blasts through the speakers, eventually causing the end to your rant as you start to sing along once again. Charles doesn’t know the music or even any of the lyrics but he does know that this is how he wishes to see you all the time, this happy.

When he envisioned your future together, a ring on your finger and two kids running around your house, he imagined you’d want to name them Jackie and Wilson and raise them on this music, rhythm and blues.

He might not be attached to the music or anything but watching how at peace you were made him think he’d grow attached to it pretty soon.

Charles loved racing, of course. But it was nice to escape sometimes. Escape from the stress and the pressures and the fears. Escape from the persistent fans and the expectant team. These days, that escape was you. You and your home in the middle of a field, black irises growing around the outside. Sunshine that shone perfectly down on the two of you as you lay side-by-side, hands intertwined between you.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Charles says, barely above a whisper as if he thought speaking too loud would make it all go away.

You hum, your free hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun as you turn your gaze toward him, a smile drifting onto your perfect features.

“I love you,” you state, proudly, as if it was a simple fact that everyone would know, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

Charles grins, head rolling to the side to lock eyes with you. You blush under his eyes and a small laugh escapes your lips, lips that he so badly wanted to kiss in that moment.

“I love you too,” He eventually responds, his free hand creeping through the grass beside him, fingers wrapping around an iris before gently pulling the flower out of the ground.

Your cheeks heat even hotter as he says the words, your hand moving to cover your face. Charles pulls your hand away, moving your face toward him as he does. He slides the flower over your ear, brushing away a lone strand of grass as he does. His hand doesn’t stray from your face though. Instead, it rests against your cheek, pulling you in gently for a kiss.

You let him pull you, free hand flowing up his arm and over his shoulder to run through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to love someone the way he loves you in this moment.

Images of your future flash through his mind once again, every milestone being pictures with you by his side. Kids, marriage, hopefully a championship. He only wanted it if you were by his side.

Charles’ eyes snap open at the sound of his door opening, watching as you slip through it before closing it gently behind you. No doubt off to go back to that friend you had mentioned you were visiting earlier that night at the bar.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes that stay trained on his ceiling, thoughts running rampant through his sleep-addled brain. He slips out of the bed, moving to walk out on his balcony, hoping the fresh air will cool his heated face. He watches as your car moves away from the apartment, getting smaller and smaller as it moves down the road.

He doesn’t understand the sick feeling in his stomach as he watches you leave. He’d only known you for a few hours, the only thing he knew about you was your name and the fact you were leaving Monaco the next day. But he still felt like throwing up at the thought of a future between you that didn’t exist.

He eventually moves back into his room, trying his best to forget the random hook-up and fall back asleep. But as he moves to plug his phone in, he can’t help as he moves to play some music lowly through the device.

He finally gets his eyes to drift close, a Jackie Wilson song echoing quietly around the room.

—————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #charles leclerc x female reader #scheduled #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc x fem!reader #leclerc x reader

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monimccoythings · 3 months ago

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How the other X-Men (97') would react to Logan's crush

I need more X-Men 97's Logan. Mostly Pre-established relationship. Just some rambles about some of the other X-men reacting to your mutual crushes because they are all a big family of busybodies lol.

tag: gender neutral reader (mostly)

You didn't have the best first meeting. You had accidentally drank the last of Logan's beers, and the burning anger in his eyes would take time to forget. You had felt so guilty afterwards that the next day he found a crate of imported beer in his bedroom.

When he first started developing a crush on you, Morph liked to tease him changing into you in different forms of suggestive positions wearing all kind of revealing lingerie, which made him blush. Hard. He tried to act all though pulling his claws out threateningly, but it was difficult to take him seriously when he was as red as a tomato.

He wasn't sure what started that crush, he guessed he started developing it without noticing. Maybe it was your good looks, your kind nature, your bright smile; who knew, but something about you drove him to you like a moth to a flame.

Ar first, Logan would be a bit conflicted due to his deeply rooted feelings for Jean. He felt like he was betraying her in some way, despite Jean being married to Scott. Unbeknowst to him, Jean, is one of the main supporters of his relationship with you and is always hijacking with Storm some way for you two to be together. Once, she got tired of your antics and practically psychically shoved you against him.

Storm is the chillest about it, unlike the overly enthusiastic Jean. She is very patient, she knows you'll end up together one way or another. She just has to wait. She still joins Jeans shenanigans because it's really fun.

Scott is more protective of you in a big brother way. He initially doesn't like that Logan has taken an interest in someone he had always seen as a little sibling. He knows how Logan can get, and how much he had pinned after Jean. He doesn't want him to hurt you, it would take a real genuine proof of his love for you to convince him. And something small wouldn't do, it has to be this big grand selfless gesture for him to actually believe it.

Charles, unlike Scott, thinks that you and Logan are a great match. You seem to bring the best out of each other. You calm Logan's never ending rage and Logan encourages you to be more bold and come out of your shell. You are like two puzzle pieces, you fit perfectly together.

Rogue is constantly teasing you about Logan. She has noticed how he gets more awkward when you're around, how he doesn't snark at you as much as he usually does to the others. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was being shy.

Remy is the one usually trying to give Logan advice on how to properly woo you, which usually goes ignored because of Logan's own pride and refusal to admit he has it deep for you.

Jubilee is a die-hard shipper. She gave you the most ridiculous ship name. Logan hates it. She, Storm, Remy, Rogue and Jean, usually meet up to discuss about you two like a bunch of teens. This is literally them on each meeting:

When you finally stop dancing around each other and start dating, he finds he's unable to keep his hands to himself. Watching you make breakfast, humming to yourself in an oversized T-Shirt and booty shorts that perfectly clinged to every delicious curve of your juicy ass like a second skin, put all of Logan's already thin self-control to test. Missions surveys get really awkward if he's seated next to you, his hand always finds its way to your thigh. Hank joked that he should give him 'the talk', which he took it as well as expected.

Roberto is the one who thinks 'what the hell do they see in him??'. He doesn't get how someone as cultured and kind as yourself would ever get interested in a caveman like Logan. But he keeps his thoughts to himself because he'd rather keep his head on his shoulders.

Logan may not know what started his crush, but he sure as hell knows when he realised he loved you. It wasn't a great sacrifice or something epic as anybody would expect. He just saw you doing the most mundane thing in the world, be it painting your nails, taking care of the garden, or getting to the best part of a book you've been reading. The second he saw that glint in your eyes and that joyful expression, he just knew.

#x men 97 x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader

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onlyswan · 2 years ago

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summary: in which you always get what you want and jungkook is dying to kiss you.

> idol!jungkook x reader / fluff!! a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

> content/warnings: jimin cameo!!, a photobooth, oc gets a little hot & bothered bcs jk is a menace lol (they both are <3), touches a biiit on toxic relationships but this is pure fluff and yearning :p (the ex oc mentions is the same as the one mentioned in the first meeting drabble)

> songs: bad - wave to earth / just like magic - ariana grande

> in which masterlist!

note: just a sweet and silly drabble of jungkook being hopelessly whipped for oc before they even became official *to intensify the seven mv brainrot* no i didn’t plan this 🥲 + hehe this was only a week before the first kiss :p reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !! <3

—

“you really came!”

you run towards jungkook with a wide smile that reaches your eyes. the bag hanging on your shoulder swings and strikes your hip due to your excitement, but you could care less about the clinking of coins when there’s a bright star leaning on a lamp post, smiling back at you.

you stand before him as he straightens himself up, puffs of a fleeting cloud appearing as you pant lightly. “dummy, it’s so late. i told you to go to bed. aren’t you tired?”

“exactly, it’s so late.” he emphasizes your words to scold you, concern dripping from the tone of his soft voice. “of course i had to come.”

he tips his head to the side, sparkling eyes drinking you in as if he didn’t just see you the other night.

“you’re so adorable today.”

“thanks. is it because of this?” you happily scrunch your nose at the compliment, tugging at the strings of the brown knitted ear warmers wrapped around your head.

it is near midnight. drowning in the warmth of his bed to flee the freezing season, jungkook should be comfortably resting at home. however, he just had to look for your name in his contact list despite being absolutely knackered… and somehow he ended up here, because if he has been trading his sleep for work all these years, then he can also trade it any day to spend his midnights with you.

an endeared grin spreads on his face, rosy cheeks numb from the cold. “hm, teddy bear.”

a gust of silence passes by as your inquiring eyes survey the white plastic bag hanging from his hand, the company logo stamped in the middle of it familiar since childhood.

“what’s that? are you sick?”

“me?” he points at himself in confusion, shaking his head. “i’m not, though?”

“then why do you have-”

“ahhh- ah!” his face lights up as he is reminded of the other reason he came to you. he slaps his forehead with a chuckle. “i almost forgot.”

jungkook, although still a little shy around you, tries his best to initiate eye-contact when either one of you speaks to avoid giving off the impression that his mind is someplace else when you’re together. however, the mission becomes difficult when you meet his gaze wide-eyed, and he is… breathless.

“you haven’t been feeling well so… uhm, i got you vitamins and more medicine, just incase. here.”

your heart feels like it’s been wrapped in a cozy blanket meant to thaw the winter that has overstayed its welcome, spreading warmth and giddy sparks all the way to the tips of your fingers. you’re relieved that you wore gloves today; he didn’t get electrified when you took the thoughtful gift from his cold hand.

“really? even vitamins?”

the original plan was only to take a peek, but a word written in bold and colorful letters prompts you to bring out the cough medicine for a better look.

oh, jungkook.

you quickly slide it back inside the bag, a laugh accidentally slipping from your mouth. you press your lips into a thin line to suppress the rest of them bubbling in your chest.

“yah, why are you suddenly laughing? did i buy the wrong one?” he questions, nervous about his suspicions being correct.

he follows up with a matter-of-fact tone.

“you said you only like syrup when you have a cough, because it’s soothing.”

“it’s so sweet that you remembered that but…” you giggle, eyes watering as your body quakes with the intensity of it. the image of the packaging flashes in your mind, and you sniffle. “this is for babies.”

“but syrup is really for kids? are they not?”

his doe eyes are shining not with condescension but genuine innocence, and it makes this a whole lot funnier for you.

“yeah, i mean…” you pause as a puzzling realization washes over you.

oh my god, does this mean that this entire time… he’s been thinking that you gulp down bottles of cherry-flavored cough syrup for two-year-old’s? and he didn’t question that? at all?

“i guess you’re right. but they also have one for adults. i was drinking that.”

“huh, that’s what they gave me. and i just assumed-” he gestures at the medicine you’re grasping in your hands before he freezes.

with the clear view of it, he finally discerns how silly of a mistake he has made.

“i must be out of my mind today!”

he breaks out into a fit of laughter, putting a hand over his aching belly.

it’s a sound that has been evoking an inexplicable joy in you since the first time you heard it; a sound that you often miss lately. you still need to remind yourself not to stare at him for too long, scared that he’d be able to read these thoughts from a simple look at your face.

“still, it’s pink. and i bet that tastes better?”

you nod your head in agreement, pulling out the medicine once more to study the directions of use. “with the dropper and everything, i bet it’s a better experience.”

“shit, it- it even has a dropper?”

“i told you! it’s for babies!”

“babies?! no, no. this isn’t it. this won’t do.” he furiously shakes his head as he waves his hand in disapproval, crossing the distance between you to seize your wrist. “let’s go- come with me. let’s go back to the pharmacy. i’ll exchange it for the right one.”

“nope.” you refuse his demands with a smirk, stubbornly breaking away from his grip. “i don’t want to. i’ll keep this.”

“____, come on!”

“but you already gave it to m- jungkook!” you squeal when he makes a move to steal the item from your hands.

out of reflex, you hide them from him behind yourself. and unsurprisingly, that doesn’t deter jungkook’s endless supply of friskiness. he chases you as he reaches for your back, and you carelessly stumble multiple steps backwards to escape him. whimpering at the unexpected impact, you finally reach a dead-end, trapped between a wall and the boy who’s been making your winter a little less blue. your forehead lands on his chest, defeated, and he keeps you steady with a secure hold of your arms.

a harmony of breathy giggles imbues the silence of the deserted sidewalk.

“what are you even going to do with it? you can’t drink it anyway!”

you lift up your head with a drawn-out whine.

you can’t give him an answer.

to be honest, you’re just as clueless as jungkook is.

“ehhh?” he mimics the sound you made with an amused expression painted on his face. you’re too damn adorable for your own good, and it’s doing very dangerous things to his heart. “will you? are you a baby?”

the rhetorical question is a bait that you choose to bite.

“not really, but i can be your baby.” you shrug, melting him with a coquettish smile.

“ah, i see… is that term of endearment your type? you want to be mine?”

his teasing grin puts his dimples on display, and you desperately want to run back into your apartment just to spend a full minute screaming into your pillow. you’re thoroughly convinced that you’ve never felt more attracted to a person than you are to jungkook. this is bad news. you don’t know to what lengths you’re willing to go so that he could stay in your life for as long as you want. it’s terrifying and exhilarating.

“just to set the record straight, you want me to be yours.”

“and if i do? then what…? are you confident you can handle me?”

every nerve connected to your heart is a wire most alive when you yearn to bare it for another.

“try me.”

his hazy eyes falls to your lips and he goes a little crazier than he was the other night. it’s infuriating that you manage to make them look so soft and so inviting despite the frigid air. it’s dizzying, how his face is only inches away from yours and as always, you smell so sweet, just right. he wonders if you taste the same.

jungkook is dying to kiss you.

the thought has been plaguing his mind, haunting his dreams both day and night. he keeps screaming at himself to just fucking do it, but as much as he is impulsive, he doesn’t want to be the guy who catches you off guard. he doesn’t want you confusing your feelings for him with adrenaline. he wants the moment to feel right. he wants you to see that he’s sincere, and he’s nothing like those bastards who took you for granted…

selfishly, he wants this to be something real, co-existing with the fear of pushing you into a tornado of chaos that is his life.

his heart is pounding violently, he’s afraid it might jump through his sweater. the right moment feels like it could be right now, and he knows you feel it too. he observes your breathing getting heavier, and one of your restless hands has freed itself to grab a fistful of his sleeve.

your lips slightly part, and he doesn’t know if it’s the anticipation, or you did it on purpose to rile him up. he figures his jimin-hyung is right; he would be a fool if he allowed you to slip out of his hands. but truth be told, he’s the one wrapped around your finger.

fuck, fuck, fuck. he is doomed.

a pin drops and he is doomed.

his ringtone rattles the silence and slices through the tension between you. disappointment flashes across your face, and you visibly flinch at its loudness. you’ve grown to despise the incessant noise of telephone calls since moving to your apartment, one of your pet peeves jungkook is yet to hear about. panicked and irritated, he scrambles to dish out the vibrating device from the depth of his pocket.

“it’s… it’s my manager. but it’s fine, i’ll handle it.” he informs you quietly as he rejects the call, opting to send a text explaining his whereabouts.

a pang of guilt shoots through your heart.

“you can go home, it’s okay… i can take care of myself.”

“mhm-hm.” he shakes his head, still busy typing away. then, out of nowhere, he looks at you to properly plead. “don’t send me home yet.”

your eyes flicker to watch a piece of ice fall on his shoulder, white contrasting the black fabric of his jacket. another one lands on your hand, and then your collarbone. the stinging coldness, another thing that makes you flinch tonight. you look up to face the snowfall fiercely coming down, and it seems that the heaven opened up the sky to scold two lovesick teenagers tangled in a modern-day dalliance.

goddamn it, you curse.

“are you kidding me?” you grunt in frustration, eyebrows sharpening your previously dazed eyes.

jungkook barely manages to tap the deliver button before you begin dragging him to the roofed entrance of your apartment building.

“stay here. i’ll just grab an umbrella real quick.”

“okay.”

once he confirms that you’re out of sight, he releases a loud sigh, exasperatedly kicking a non-existent ball on the cemented floor.

“fuck! fuck! why? why do i move so slow? ah- they can’t just kill the mood like that. why-” he squeezes his eyes shut, pinching his nose bridge and putting a hand over his hip, so upset he can’t even speak straight. “we almost… shit, this is driving me insane… she hates me. she must hate me right now. i’m done for.”

—

the aggressive slam of the front door rings throughout your apartment, and you’re about ninety-nine percent certain you disturbed the sleep of a neighbor or two.

“then what?” you grumble to yourself, followed by a desperate cry. “then kiss me! do i really have to do everything myself?”

after grabbing the biggest umbrella you own from the basket you have beside your coat rack, you head to the kitchen where you leave behind what jungkook bought you.

eventually, your overthinking leads you to a bitter conclusion.

“does he not want something more? is he playing with me?!”

and if it was any other person, you’d be fine with that but… your gaze lands on the bottles of vitamins and cough medicine, and you sigh to regulate the accelerated beating of your heart.

“but i think i can finally do this right.”

your voice comes out above a whisper, and the verbal declaration alone fuels the hope in you.

you’re confused whether it’s a sign of luck or childishness. maybe the compensation for being well-acquainted with loss, or good karma if you decide to push it some more… but you always get what you want. despite the blood, sweat, and tears; even during the instances that you do give up, the universe somehow finds a way to arrange matters in your favor.

except you don’t want to give up on this just yet, and you don’t intend to just stand around waiting for the universe work its slow burn magic.

because you look out your bedroom window, and jungkook is squatting on the floor with his head in his hands, looking distraught as if he just lost the lottery and he was only a digit off.

you might be unsure about your label, but he sure wanted to kiss you pinned up against that wall.

—

jungkook casually steals glances from you every now and then. you’ve been softly humming to christmas songs as the ice underneath your feet crunches with every step you take, influenced by the heavy snowfall despite the holidays being long gone.

when you came back, he thought you’d be giving him the cold shoulder, reminiscent of when you got pissed off at a hair stylist not even a week ago (that day, he learned that you’re grumpy when sick, grumpier when jealous). but instead, you lent him a white fuzzy scarf to keep him warm.

“where are we going?” he asks, unaware of your destination.

he’s just been following your lead for the past five minutes or so. he only knows that you’re going someplace that will satisfy your midnight cravings, as you mentioned over the phone earlier.

“i haven’t told you?” you wince. “just mcdonald’s. i’m craving their fries… hmmm, and chocolate sundae.”

“sundae? but you have a cough.”

“i’m all better now! that’s why i’m getting it!” you keen with excitement.

except jungkook is worried. at home and at work, he has many people fussing over him when he’s not feeling well. most of the time, you only have yourself to rely on. he doesn’t like thinking about your past boyfriends, but he hopes that they took care of you when you would get sick. as for the future, he hopes that he’s there.

he perks up when he sees the pharmacy store he’s been thoughtfully scanning both sides of the streets for, recognizing the lightbox signage. “let’s stop here. i’ll buy you your adult syrup.”

“jungkook,” you giggle airily, pulling at his jacket to motion him not to go near it. “i just told you that i’m not sick anymore.”

“it’s better to be prepared.” he reasons.

the snowfall has ceased. he transfers the umbrella to his other side, freeing his hand to hold yours and tug you along with him. he childishly pretends to not hear your protests.

he’s not showing it, but he must be embarrassed about earlier. you can’t help but to smile from ear to ear, watching his back as you’re left a few steps behind, the two of you tied together by his warm and protective grip of your hand.

“jungkook,”

your voice is calmer and quieter. he whips his head back, concerned eyes twinkling from the blaring headlights on the road.

“i’m thirsty.”

—

you’re blissfully unaware of jungkook falling in love with you from the opposite side of the table.

thoroughly engrossed with the movie-like scene outside the glass wall, you’re clutching an apple juice box in both hands, plastic straw stuck between your lips as you take baby sips. he probably sounds like a broken record, but there’s something different in the air tonight, and you’re twice as pretty in his eyes.

“i can sue you for that, you know?”

he drops his phone in shock. he chases it in pure panic as it clashes with the table before tumbling down to his lap. when he puts it down, the screen is already black, a desperate attempt of hiding the raw evidence of his offense. he smiles back at you sheepishly, cheeks and ears flushed after being caught red-handed.

“aren’t i cute? you already made it your lockscreen, haven’t you?” you tease, eyes flickering up to him as you begin stabbing at the chocolate sundae with the little plastic spoon to mix it.

“made what my lockscreen? no, i didn’t!” he strongly denies, holding up his phone to show it to you.

“plain black, really? what happened to gureumie?”

you send him a look of distaste.

“just makes me believe i’m really your lockscreen and you change it to something random before you come see me.” you say in a sing-song voice, shivering with delight after you lick your spoon clean of the sugary treat.

“don’t start. yours is your class schedule!” he retorts with a laugh, which goes up in volume when you slap his hand away for attempting to steal from your fries.

you scowl at him with a displeased pout, dipping a fry into the sundae before popping it in your mouth. “get away. i’m hungrier because you took so long.”

the effect of having your cravings satisfied is instantaneous. it was absolute hell, being sick, albeit it was only a cough accompanied by fatigue. it’s simply no fun being an adult and having no one enter your room every two hours to check up on you. for the first time in the past week, your brain is completely flooded with happy chemicals, and you feel like a little kid kicking their feet with glee.

“it’s not my fault! they had to do something to the ice cream machine… i-i think it stopped working.” jungkook stutters, stuffing his mouth full with a spoonful of his strawberry sundae.

of course, it’s the ice cream machine. it’s always the ice cream machine.

with a gasp, you weakly slam the empty juice box on the table. “wow, i almost didn’t get what i came here for.”

“but you did. ‘cause you’re with your lucky charm.” jungkook cheekily winks at you, and you long to kiss that stupid grin off his face.

—

“holy shit, he’s kneeling down now. kook, he’s begging- look-”

jungkook is convinced he has never seen your eyes this big. he looks at you dumbfoundedly, cheeks full as he chews a huge bite of his burger. you release a sigh, reaching over to turn his face to the side.

outside, just a few feet away at the opposite direction his body is facing, he discovers an angry tear-stained woman sitting on a bench and a man crying on his knees infront of her.

he swallows, tilting his head. huh, so this is what you were watching earlier when you didn’t notice him arrive with the food. funnily enough, this isn’t considered an unusual occurence in such a populated city.

“i knew it. he’s cheating, he’s definitely cheating.” you squint at the scene, shooting daggers in your mind. you rely on muscle memory as you continue to munch and dip your fries in the sundae without bothering to look anymore.

they were still arguing when you gave jungkook your undivided attention, but the shift in the atmosphere captured your interest again when your peripheral vision caught him on the ground.

“how do you know?”

“he panicked and snatched his phone away when she touched it. that’s why they started fighting.”

a sick feeling in your gut deflects your eyes away from the forlorn couple, the salt and the sugar in your food starting to taste bland on your tongue. on the other hand, it seems that it’s jungkook’s turn to be absorbed in them.

“oh, that makes sense.” he mutters under his breath, eyebrows furrowing as he frowns. “seriously, i’ll never understand cheaters. why… would you go out of your way to hurt a person who’s special to you?”

and because of that, his food are left to be unsupervised. with the hopes of resparking your appetite by stealing a taste of something you haven’t had in over a year, you scoop up a small bite of his strawberry sundae.

“that person isn’t special anymore, or maybe they never were in the first place.”

“but if you’re loved by that person, even if you don’t feel the same way anymore, shouldn’t they still be special to you in some ways?”

he returns to his previous position, and the passion written in his eyes like constellations makes you want to believe that maybe the world isn’t a lost cause. it’s a breath of fresh air — the new point of view clear as day infront of you. jungkook is your best friend, it dawns on you then and there.

a best friend who sends you pictures of the sky. a best friend who won’t let you roam the midnight streets with melancholy. a best friend you want to kiss and hold hands with.

“they should, but they’re horny assholes who don’t think about stuff like that.”

“ah, then what a shame.” he chuckles with a scornful shake of his head, finally going back to devouring his burger.

it’s silent for a few beats.

right now, you like the strawberry flavor more than the chocolate. it tastes better than you remember. it’s rekindling an old flame.

“are you that type of boyfriend? who gives out their password?” your voice is rife with interest as you casually steal another spoonful of jungkook’s dessert.

“of course, i don’t mind. i have nothing to hide. i just have the most random photos, and like a thousand voice memos… but… how do i say it?” he pauses to organize his thoughts, eyes pointing towards ceiling. “uhm, it can get uncomfortable, and hurtful… if they always thoroughly check everything. i don’t know…”

“no, i get that. my ex was doubtful of me all the time and it was tiring. giving reassurance is important, but so is having boundaries… never forget that, understand?”

you radiate with so much tenderness, he finds it so easy to listen to every word that you say. but since you already understand the importance of balancing those two things, can he just forget about it and admire your face?

“is that why you broke up with him?”

you pucker your lips in thought, playfully twirling the plastic spoon between your fingers.

“i guess so? he… he just sees me as a bad person. and i was starting to believe that i am.” you decide to put it lightly, scoffing when the mortifying memories of him floods your mind. “when i had that epiphany, i broke up with him right away. we just weren’t good for each other.”

jungkook utters your name, mellow and sweet, like a serenade.

you’re reminded that he sings for a living.

“hmm?”

“i don’t know what happened between you but… when i say you’re a good person, i’m really being sincere.”

during the fall, talking about your past relationship made your heart feel unbearably heavy.

but tonight, it’s winter. jungkook holds out his little spoon to feed you a bite of his strawberry sundae, and you accept it without thinking.

uh-oh.

you peer up to him shyly.

“and because you were so kind to me the first time we met, i don’t mind you being a thief.” he fondly strokes your hair, and you squeeze your eyes shut as your body vibrates with giggles. “aigoo, you eat so well. good job, ____.”

—

“where you are taking me? this isn’t the way home!”

jungkook has an arm around swung over your shoulder, gluing you to his side as you walk together. the last time you checked the time, it was 1:27am. the stores you brush past are already lights off, locked up, and the sidewalk is mostly dead and quiet.

“i really like taking photos, you know?” he grins, sounding thrilled, and you glance at him with suspicion in your eyes.

“i’m very much aware. and so?”

you yawn not long after, leaning some of your weight on him as tiredness seeps into your overused muscles. you’re awfully sleepy, and cold. you can hear your bed calling out your name from kilometers away.

“so we’ll take some together.”

from a distance, you immediately recognize the famous photobooth only several buildings away from the noisy night life of the long rows of bars and nightclubs.

you feel your knees go weaker.

oh, you’re in very serious trouble.

—

curse jeon jungkook.

curse him and his muscular thighs.

“sit here?” he pats his lap as an invitation, looking up to your motionless figure still standing infront of the closed curtain. “or do you want me to stand behind the chair?”

curse him and his intoxicating perfume and his arm wrapped around your waist.

“four photos and… we’ll print… two copies.” he thinks out loud, face so close to yours as he taps on the screen infront.

curse the stupid person who decided to only put one small stool in this small photobooth.

you won’t dare to make it obvious, but your heart is doing somersaults. you realize how arrogant you were for whining about him not kissing you yet, because here you are trying your hardest not to squirm as you’re sat across his lap.

unconsciously, you embrace the scarf he took off close to your chest.

it’s… been quite a long, torturous while of being deprived of physical touch. and you like jungkook. you like jungkook so much that despite hating cramped spaces, you flash the camera a sweet smile while playfully squishing his pouty face in your hand.

“oh, oh, that’s right!”

a yellow lightbulb appears above his head. he bounces his legs to capture your attention, his arms tightening around your waist to prevent you from falling off.

you cross your thighs to subtly squeeze them together, a poor attempt at putting out the fiery tingles spreading throughout your body. you swallow thickly. he needs to fucking sit still. your self-control is running thin.

“act angry at me and i’ll put it as the first picture, okay?”

“huh? why?”

“so i’ll always remember that you got annoyed at me for dragging you here.”

“and i’m still annoyed!” you slap his chest with a frown, glaring at him exactly as he imagined you would.

his mischievous grin stays when he faces the camera, winking and throwing up a peace sign as the flash goes off.

when the timer starts again, he rushes to reach for the floor, sticking his hand in the paper bag from the pharmacy.

“for the next one- stay still-”

you’re completely clueless. your vision remains fixed on him until he reveals a bunch of pink ribbon hairclips on his big palm.

“where did you get these?” you blink at him.

he only shushes you as he removes the earwarmers from your head, thoughtfully fixing your hair before carefully adorning it with the ribbons as fast as he can.

“the ice cream machine wasn’t broken, was it?”

“shhh, we’re running out of time.” he rebukes you to mask his bashfulness, teeth sinking in his bottom lip as he focuses on arranging the ribbons symetrically.

“are these mine?”

“yours.” he confirms absentmindedly. he backs up to inspect his work, but he only ends up thinking to himself is it right for someone to be this beautiful?

the time runs out before you can deem yourself ready. the camera captures jungkook trying to tame your baby hairs, and you, watching him with a faint smile of affection.

“what do we do now?”

he shrugs. “let’s do whatever we want.”

“wow, i can finally do what i want?” you reply sarcastically. “i thought you were prepared for this.”

“three seconds!”

since you’re already smiling in the other two photos, you figure that it’s your turn to pout in the last.

the number ‘1’ appears on the screen, and you feel him pull you closer than you’ve ever been.

curse jeon jungkook.

curse him and his hand on your neck and his soft lips pressed to your cheek.

—

“you’re sneaky.”

“you’re one to talk.” jungkook replies, and you roll your eyes.

he chuckles to himself as he scans his copy of the photostrip under the street lamp beside the photobooth. on the other hand, your back is resting against it, your arms crossed over your chest. you take a fleeting glance at him, secretly smiling to yourself because he looks so happy.

yours is tucked in between the pages of the book inside your bag.

later. you can look at it later when you’re a little more sane and the ghost of his lips stops lingering on your skin.

“i don’t just let myself get kissed for free. don’t you know that?” you heave a dramatic sigh, feigning annoyance. “but since you bought me new clips,”

you turn your cheek to stare at him, but you instantly break the eye contact when you see how he looks like an excited puppy when he’s amused by you.

“…i’ll let this pass.”

“i think i just found the motivation to make more money today.”

you crack up at his words. “shut up!”

god, you’re getting swayed by his antics. he has too much hidden underneath his sleeve. you need to up your game.

a breeze sweeps across the earth, and you sniffle as you stuff your hands in your pockets. it’s getting colder and your battery is draining rapidly as the clock ticks. you die a little inside when you think about the consequences of your late-night adventure. there has to be time for you to squeeze in a nap between school and work, right? right? unbeknownst to you, jungkook takes notice of your weary state. he crosses the distance between you to wrap the ear warmers around your head.

“tsk, you’re going to catch a cold.” he whispers, loosely tying the straps under your chin. he reaches for a ribbon, but then pauses to ask for permission. “do you want to take off these now, so you won’t fall asleep on them? these are kind of sharp.”

“stop taking such good care of me.” you say half-jokingly, starting to remove them on your own. “i might get used to it.”

this upsets jungkook, it seems.

his lips are in a permanent pout as he answers, eyebrows knitting together. “what’s wrong with that?”

you only shake your head with a vague smile.

—

JK :

4:11am

[sent four photos]

credit GCF if you post on insta

got it?

you’re welcome !!!

4:13am

hehe you must be sleeping now right?

you better be !

4:18am

the truth is i’m a bit shy to tell you this in person but ... thank you for being someone i can spend time with comfortably and for always making me smile. i really like you a lot .. i mean that sincerely too

sweet dreams ____ :)

—

“goodnight, jungkook.”

you stood on your toes to kiss his cheek, painstakingly chaste yet sinfully calculated. he was left all alone in the empty hallway of your apartment floor, too stunned to remember and return your scarf.

it is not the first time you did that, but his mind is reeling like crazy tonight — the corner of his lips is still stained with the graze of your lips.

a rhythmic knock snaps him out of the electrifying memory.

“jungkook-ah,” a freshly-awoken jimin raspily croaks out while he rubs his blurry eyes. “did you bring home anything?”

is this becoming a routine now? him visiting at an ungodly hour in the morning; jungkook sitting up without a word to retrieve the snacks from under his bed.

“thank you.”

he receives an appreciative pat on the back before jimin grabs one of the diamond-shaped biscuits you earnestly made a whole tray of, enough to go around for seven people. he nibbles on it as he flops down on the mattress, planning to sleep here some more until it’s time to prepare for work.

however, his drowsiness gets pushed to the back burner when the photostrip beside the maknae’s pillow attracts his attention.

“yo, jungkook! is this from tonight?”

“hyung! be quiet!” jungkook whisper-shouts.

“the staff didn’t mention a photobooth to me. is this a secret?” the late-night visitor whispers back to humor him.

the bed creaks as he chases the printed memories from jimin’s grasp, who seems to have gained enough energy to tease him, heartily giggling as he rolls away to the edge of the bed.

“yah, you’re so cute together?!”

jungkook’s bunny teeth pop out as he’s unable to resist a satisfied beam at the flattering remark. damn right, they do.

pulling out a pillow from behind him, he playfully hits jimin with the huge bundle of cotton. “hyung, finish eating and go back to sleep. we have that thing later, remember?”

“you’re hurting my feelings. what happened to telling your hyung about your crush?”

—

“wait a second- i’m still confused. you sprinted to the fashion boutique before ordering?” jimin flips over to lie down on his stomach, speech muffled by the biscuit between his lips.

“they close at midnight, so i had to run there first.” jungkook explains as he reseals the tupperware. weirdly, he only feels the ache in his body now that he’s talking about it. “they really like things like that.”

“you’ve told me. so how long do you plan on keeping that in here?”

his gaze lands on the paper bag labelled ‘CHANEL’ on the other side of the room, and he makes a pained expression, still agonizing over whether he should give it to you or not.

“but don’t you think it’s too much? maybe i should save it for their birthday.”

“be honest with me. do they even know you’re courting them?”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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superblysubpar · 7 months ago

Text

<- part six | part eight -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: No more bets.

the song: Read Your Mind by Sabrina Carpenter

also for your listening pleasure: Girl Can't Help It by Journey, Open Your Heart by Madonna, U Got The Look by Prince, and The Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh

5,328 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / brief descriptions of scars-previous head injury / SPICE/SMUT - really just some dirty talk and a teensiet tiniest start to oral (reader receiving) | my blog is 18+

Hawkins, Indiana - the past

His hand was in yours, and then it wasn’t.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sneered in front of you as you blinked at the boy who just dropped your hand at the sound of it. “What do we have here, Stevie?”

A group of boys around your age leaned against a falling apart fence just outside of the ride, eyes surveying you up and down, then looking at Steve Harrington standing next to you. The leader of the pack a face full of freckles and a grin that made your stomach unsettled when he pointed it at you and took a step forward.

“I’m Tommy, and you,” he grinned wider, like if he showed off more teeth, he’d placate you into thinking you enjoyed his company, “Well, you must be new to Hawkins. Think I’d remember a face like yours.”

“Knock it off Hagan,” Steve grit out of his teeth, a fist clenched at his side.

“I’m…I’ll…” you stuttered out at the boy named Tommy, backing away and looking at Steve as you did. “It was…I’ll see you around?”

You scrambled away from the boys as Steve took a step towards you, but Tommy’s voice rang out, making his head turn.

“Does Harrington have a little girlfriend? Gonna share all the juicy details with us, Stevie?”

“What? No!” He answered too quickly, cheeks pink, no longer looking at you. “She’s just some stupid girl, I got stuck with her on the ferris wheel…”

You didn’t stick around to hear more, swiping at your wet cheeks with the back of your hand.

Glittery green and gold smeared across it, freshly smudgable after Steve Harrington held your hand until it was over.

A house on Cornwallis Street - Sunday

Your hands shifted on the steering wheel, even though the car was in park. Clammy and shaking as you rubbed them on your denim shorts and took a deep breath. With your window rolled down you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Journey coming from the backyard, the large splash that followed the shout of ‘Don’t you dare Henderson!’. Peals of laughter and the distinct smell of something grilling only added to elements encouraging you to join them.

But you were still sitting in your car.

You didn’t question it, when after the party last night, Eddie didn’t drive you home, but to the shop, dangling your keys in front of a shocked face as he proclaimed it was finally fixed.

“But…I didn’t pay you, I thought you couldn’t…”

Eddie had waved you off and smiled, “I’ve been working a lot.” He dropped the keys in your lap and grinned wider, “Besides, Harringon’ll be paying me three hundred bucks tomorrow.”

You looked down at your thighs, thinking about who’s hands had just been pushing them apart a few minutes ago as Eddie quietly probed, “Right?”

“Of course.” You nodded, telling yourself that technically you and Eddie had won the bet.

Nobody had slept with anyone.

Which is what you tell yourself again as you take another deep, bravery seeking breath and step out of your car.

Each step on the sidewalk then up the driveway is a little easier, your chest feeling a little lighter as the laughter and music only gets louder.

But then you see the sign.

The same color of the suit you have in your bag.

The same color he told you he can’t concentrate when you wear it.

Bright, bold, outlining four white letters.

SOLD.

You’re still looking at it when the door swings open, Robin greeting you, dripping wet from the pool and a slice of watermelon in her hand.

“Finally! I’m outnumbered, and Max is too busy canoodling with Lucas and I need more girl power!”

She grabs your arm and pulls you into the Harrington’s foyer as a louder call of, “I told you, as soon as Lucas apologizes for what he did-“

“And I told you, that I cannot apologize for something if I don’t know what I’m apologizing for!”

The pair walk out of a room on one side of the foyer as they argue, Max mumbling under her breath as they exit your sights and into the den.

“You know exactly what you did.”

Robin rolls her eyes and points up the stairs, “This downstairs bathroom is all packed up and,” she makes quotes with her fingers around the watermelon as she recites, “ ‘It’s cleaned and if any of you idiots fuck it up, you’re dead’ , but there’s one by Steve’s room, change and come help me seek vengeance on the boys!”

She’s gone as fast as she arrived, the silence of the house now overpowering, but at least it gives you space to take a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts.

Steve’s moving.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Your fingers glide on the wood banister as you climb the stairs, something sitting heavy in your gut from the more important question that’s gnawing at you.

Why does it matter that he didn’t?

Once you find the bathroom, your fingers tug on red nylon and strings. The suit you rummaged around for in your drawer this morning pointing out the glaringly obvious answer. It matters he didn’t tell you because-

It was a good suit, that was the only reason why it was picked for today.

Not because of where you were wearing it.

Not because of the boy who lived there.

Because he definitely still does live there, at least for the time being.

It’s easy to spot his room when you exit the bathroom, bare feet padding across hard woods as you tug the hem of your white tshirt over your hips a little lower. Worried you shouldn’t be walking around the house so uncovered despite the fact that you’re about to be even more so outside in the pool, when you catch your reflection in the mirror above his dresser.

The room is in shambles, half packed you assume. Boxes open, and only half filled, litter the floor, the white plaid wallpapered walls bare, whatever hung on the nails left behind now packed away. Your fingers linger on the top of the dresser, thumb catching on his watch, a Polaroid of him and Robin, the worn brown leather of his wallet. A tight squeeze pulls at something in your chest when the slip of paper with the name ‘Brit’ and a heart shifts beneath it.

You can’t help but wonder if he called that number that night like he said he would.

Wonder if he took her out to a movie, held her hand, let everyone know that Steve Harrington was on a date with her.

Your bag drops on his bed that’s unmade with sheets that match the walls as you wonder if she was here too. As you wonder how many other girls have been in this room, this bed.

A loud shout outside, just below his window makes you jump, pulling you out of the spiral of doubt you’ve fallen into and down the stairs.

The cream carpet is plush beneath your bare feet, the framed photos are gone, the desk as well, so nothing stands between you and the sliding glass doors out to the pool.

It’s a different view than the last time you were here. The bright turquoise littered with even brighter inflatables and swimsuits. It’s warm, it’s light, it’s loud, as bodies splash in it and compete with the radio playing top hits for the loudest thing. Eddie’s shaking his curls out back and forth all over Robin who’s shrieking and running past him.

The thought of stepping outside and arriving late has you turning into the kitchen, searching for something your hands can fiddle with before joining the party.

Which is how Steve Harrington’s lungs finally give out, and he dies.

He knows he’s not actually dying, but he’s sure that the process has to feel eerily similar to this.

He rounded the corner to find his fridge door opened, the glow of the interior light silhouetting around your curves hidden under a white shirt making his breath stutter in his chest. And as you bend at the waist, red fabric cut high and only climbing higher, reveals the perfect swell of your ass and his lungs fail to function, like one’s collapsing because he’s been shot, or he’s taking on water and they don’t know to expel the air anymore.

“Jesus Christ.”

It slips out of him much like the yelp the words startle out of you, the shoot up of your body involuntary, causing your head to smack into the top of the fridge and a litany of curses to tumble out of your lips.

Steve rushes over as you hold your head and spin, blinking and looking dizzy.

“Shit, shit, sorry.” He’s across the room in seconds, hands cupping your cheeks and tilting you gently while his eyes focus on your forehead, inspecting. He frowns and moves to the left slightly, towards the sink, though he leaves one of his hands in contact with your skin.

The furrow of his brow deepens as he dampens a towel and you try to breathe out of your nose and in with your mouth so you don’t focus on how his normal smell is stronger with his shirt off and mixed with sunscreen and chlorine that clings to his skin. Skin that shines with a sheen from each, that’s somehow not gross, but tantalizing. So much of that skin on display revealing more freckles than you can fathom counting. Skin that looks more tan from the dark chest hair curled against it or the swim trunks that sit low on his hips.

Steve looks at you with raised eyebrows and you realize he’s asked a question and you absolutely didn’t hear it.

“Um,” you swallow, your tongue taking up too much room in your mouth, “Wh-what?”

Steve’s lips twitch as he stands fully in front of you again, damp cloth raised as he whispers, “Something distracting you, honey?”

Your throat has something stuck in it, and no amount of clearing it seems to fix the problem. You focus on the freckle just to the left of his lips instead of his smug eyes as you admit, “Can’t concentrate when you wear that color.”

The reward of his low laugh and smile has you wondering if someone hand sculpted his lips and cupid’s bow.

“I’ll be sure to wear it every chance I get just to torture you then,” he murmurs while fingers adjust your chin into the light. Your back rests against the center island, legs sandwiched between his spread ones so he can raise the cloth to your skin, apologizing with his eyes as he tacks on, “Only fair, since you woke up and decided evil today.”

The damp material of his swim trunks sends a shiver up your spine when it hits your thighs, and your hands grab his waist in a wince when the cloth makes contact with your still fairly fresh head wound. You’re in a staring contest with a gold chain around his neck as you fib, “This is the only swimsuit I own. Just happens to be red.”

Steve finishes with your forehead, but two fingers curl under your chin and lift so you have to look at him as he speaks through a smirk.

“You’re pretty cute when you lie.”

“Come on Steve,” you whisper, fingers curling into his hips without thought, “You’re better than cheesy lines and rookie moves like this. Besides, the bet’s over. We can go back to hating each other now.”

He shakes his head, nose bumping yours as he does and he exhales, “Never hated you.”

Your swallow is loud as he leans closer, one hand on your hip and fingers playing with the so to speak fire of the strings holding your suit together as you offer, “Despised?”

Another shake of his head, another step closer so your lower halves are pressed together and your eyelashes are fluttering. Your head falls back with a gasp as his mouth trails along your jaw, hot breath and wet lips against it as you stutter out, “De-detest?”

He responds into your skin, just below your ear, something that sounds like the word, “Never.”

His name leaves you breathlessly as his tongue lightly licks down the side of your neck, lips following in a delicate brush.

“Steve-”

He hums into your collar, nose dragging around the curve of it while your hands grip his sides. “Stop saying my name like that honey, or I’m gonna get down on my knees and make you say it much,” he nips at your earlobe, “Much, louder.”

The space between your legs throbs, thighs push even tighter together at the thought of Steve’s mouth there.

“Steve,” you scold, cheeks warm, body even more so in all the places it touches his.

“Baby,” he groans, nose knocking your cheek, “What did I just say?”

He starts to lower himself, hands drifting so too, on the outside of your thighs. Brushing bare skin and aching to push it further, cup your ass and roll your hips against his. Especially when your fingers hold his jaw in place so he has to look at you. Only slightly distracted by how kissable your lips are as they say, “You’re moving.”

Steve shakes his head no and you laugh again and he wonders how many more times he can make that sound come out of you.

“Harrington, there’s literally a sold sign in your front yard.”

He leans in closer, unable to resist the chance to taste your lips again, to feel their lingering sting against them all day. He’s got this insane thought that he wishes you were wearing lipstick, so it could be smeared against him, marking up his mouth and neck, shit, even his dick, so everyone knows he’s yours, it’s yours.

“You worried I’m gonna be too far away?” He somehow manages to ask through the fog of images of your lips surrounding his cock, big eyes blinking at him as you-

“I’m actually worried it isn’t far enough,” you swallow around the tight feeling in your chest.

His forehead knocks yours, hands squeeze your waist and then climb higher on your curves as he tsks, “Even cuter. You gotta quit lying baby.” But he relents some of the upperhand, the thought of you being worried about him leaving making him admit, “I’m crashing at Robin’s for a bit. And we’re trying to save up for a place together.”

“Oh,” you nod, distracted by the way his nose traces the bridge of yours, how his eyelashes flutter and the freckles on his cheeks stand out more from a morning in the sun as he does. “Th-that’s good.”

“Yeah?” The corner of his lips rising in a smile making them brush yours.

“Mhm,” you hum, “So you can take Brit on that date still.”

“Who?” He blinks, cheeks turning pink as your fingers scrape up his stomach and through his chest hair.

“Brit,” your eyebrows raise, “Smells like peaches, and giggles and dots her eyes with hearts? The picture perfect girl to take out around town and proudly hold hands with?”

“Again,” Steve leans the few centimeters closer, whispering against your lips, “Who?”

You push at his chest, as much as it pains you to do so, needing the distance from the intoxicating mouth that smells like mint and lemonade. But

Steve remains strong in his position, fingers curl around your ear and hold your neck in place gently as he speaks like each word might spook you into running.

“I’m staying in Hawkins. I have no idea who you’re talking about. The bet is over. Can you stop being so stubborn and let me kiss you like I’ve been wanting to since we were twelve?”

Your heart rumbles low and slow, like thunder rolling in, it cracks in your chest like lightening hit it. Every ounce of your body is buzzing, like the strike tore your body in two. One part that can’t believe you’re hearing him say it and another that wants to run even though you know it doesn’t strike the same place twice. The fear of being caught in the storm with no way out has you stalling.

“Ask me nicely.”

Steve laughs, and you wonder how you never noticed how much you like making that sound bubble out of him.

Or how much you like the way he licks his lips before he says something important.

“Please,” he murmurs against your mouth, “Can I kiss you?”

Your lips part the same time a shriek calls from the den, “Steve! The food is burning!”

He curses under his breath, hand grabbing yours as he pulls you through the kitchen and into the den.

His frown only grows as the smell of burning food does when the two of you exit the sliding door. He tugs you with him across the warm pavement of the patio, the cool summer breeze has goosebumps arriving on your legs as he shouts at the curly haired boy fanning a smoking grill.

“Henderson! You had one fucking job, man! These aren’t just burning they’re-“

“Scorched,” Lucas supplies around a cough, smacking the air with his hat.

“Torched,” Mike pipes up, squinting and pinching his nose closed.

“Dead,” El delivers morosely.

Will snorts and covers his mouth and Max mutters under her breath, “Imbeciles.”

But then she’s smiling at you.

Then they’re all smiling at you, even Eddie and Robin who stand just beyond them, staring at Steve and yours intertwined hands.

The attention on it makes your hand feel too heavy in his and you go to slip it out, but Steve only squeezes it tighter, waving his other at them, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer. Now get lost, or I’m not making more and you can eat these disgusting things.”

The “kids” take off and Steve turns to you, thumb swiping over the back of your hand, cheeks pink and swallowing loudly. “Um, about my really nicely asked question that was rudely-“

“Yes.”

The just as interrupted response stuns him as much as it does you. But when he smiles, and takes your cheeks in both of his hands, and leans in slowly, you’re sure the answer was the right one, the storm clouds dissipate, the threat of another crack gone.

This kiss, is like rain.

The good kind of rain. Slow. Steady. Steve’s lips capture yours sure, calmly, breathing out just as the pair of his mold around your top one. He holds them through an exhale against your cheek as your hands fall to his chest naturally. You can feel the thud of his heart beneath your palm as his mouth parts to do it again, deeper, stronger. Each beat against your skin the rain hitting a window until it’s so natural, so steady, it’s a simple background noise.

It’s only when loud whoops and whistles break the calm that you hear yours in your ears and feel his heart again, the calm disrupted. Your cheeks warm beneath his palms as he kisses you again, a chaste and over too quick peck around a smile.

That pesky thing is still stuck in your throat, suddenly unsure how limbs and words and human things work anymore. You stumble a step back and trip on a pool noodle when your stomach flutters with a swarm of butterflies intent on trying to escape. He catches your waist before you fall as you gesture to the water, “Alright, well, that pool’s not gonna swim in itself.”

Steve smiles, but he narrows his eyes, squeezing at the outside of your thighs, “Honey, I thought we were done being mean to each other.”

Your eyes blink at him, confused, butterflies constructing a roller-coaster in your stomach now as well, as you ask, “How is me swimming being mean?”

“Kissing me like that then parading around in a little red bikini?” He swallows as his fingers play with the strings of said suit, whispering, “Mean. Incorrigible, baby.”

This feels surreal, his hands on you, calling you baby while your friends are only a few feet away and absolutely watching. Even more so when you whisper, “Big brain word.”

Steve taps your chin, lifting it as he asks, “What’s my prize?”

Looking into Steve’s, Buttercup’s description of Westley’s eyes being like the sea after a storm can’t help but float through your mind. But Steve’s are a lot more like the forest after one. Wet and darkened earth soaking up all it was just given, richer in color and waiting to be explored.

“What do you want?”

Steve grins, his mouth parts, but then you’re both being drenched with water, two buckets dumped over your heads as you shout in protest against the cold.

Robin and Max yell something about the fire in the kitchen being too hot and they needed to put it out as they run away from you both with laughter.

You peel off the white shirt that clings to your body now as you mumble something about payback. Steve groans at the reveal of your body in only the suit. It’s easy to look over your shoulder as you walk away from him and ask, “Tell me later?”

Even easier to shove a grinning Eddie towards the pool as you walk past and mumble, “Shut up.”

He grips at your shoulder as he flails, pulling you in with him, your double splash drowning out your shriek and the beginning of Madonna’s Open Your Heart booming out of the stereo.

When you resurface, swiping water from your eyes and laughing, you turn to find Steve again and aren’t surprised when he’s already looking at you. Your arms rest on the ledge when you swim up to the side and mock his voice, calling up to him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

He sticks his tongue out at you as you laugh and swim away, but he can’t help but wonder where he packed his Polaroid, and if he can get you alone long enough to snap several his eyes only photos.

He’s still thinking it, later, as the sun inches closer to the other side of the sky, and you’re relaxed on a lounger next to Robin.

Eyes hidden from him behind sunglasses, hands resting on your stomach, brushing back and forth over your skin as you roll your neck.

Prince’s U Got The Look fills the now much quieter backyard, the kids all having disappeared under the excuse of getting movie snacks and a video rental from Keith an hour ago. Robin’s voice interrupts the lyrics with, “How much you wanna bet they’re at the arcade and they aren’t coming back with the snacks?”

You groan and sit up, “No more bets. But,” a sigh leaves you, “Yeah. I’ll go order a pizza? Steve’s got a billion contraband rental’s downstairs too. I’m sure there’s something halfway decent in there.”

“Ha-ha,” he says dryly, watching you stretch has him sinking lower in the pool so only his eyes show. He squeezes them shut when your top slips just a smidge higher as your arms raise, the curve of each breast peeking out from the bottom and giving him a heart attack.

He’s certain that’s exactly what’s happening when he opens them to find you slipping your white shirt on. Only it’s not your white shirt.

It’s his.

Steve watches the collar linger on your nose, then slip over your chin as you smile at him and hook your thumb over your shoulder, “I’m - phone…pizza.” Stumbling over your words and shuffling towards the house quickly.

He waits exactly sixty seconds before he’s swimming towards the ladder and climbing out. Eddie’s voice taunts from the tube he’s floating in, with his arms behind his head, even with closed eyes he looks smug, “And where are you going?”

“To…help. With the calling for pizza.” He towels off quickly, Robin snorts and Eddie makes a booing sound.

Robin calls from her lounger, “Don’t say we never did anything for you, Dingus!”

Steve slides the glass door on their snickering, the house quiet and much cooler than the Summer outside. He glances in the kitchen, the hallway, searching for you, when he hears a creak upstairs.

He finds you in his room, in his shirt still, sunglasses pushed onto the top of your head as you sift through a bag and pull out a pair of denim shorts.

“Hi,” he whispers, when you look up at him.

“Hey,” you smile, voice quiet too, “Why are we whispering?”

“I-“ he starts quiet and clears his throat, returning to a normal volume, “I don’t know. Guess I thought if I spoke too loud I might wake up from this great dream.”

The grin spreads on your lips and you shake your head, “Wow. That’s bad, even for you, Steve.”

He takes a few steps towards you as you continue to shake your head with a smile, only stopping when he asks, “Say my name again? Please?”

Steve takes the shorts from your hands, dropping them on the ground as you murmur, gently, “Steve.”

His tongue darts over his bottom lip before he says, “Can I tell you what I want for a prize now?”

You’re only able to manage a small, “Mhm,” between pressed together lips as your hands sweat and your stomach burns, and your chest constricts while his fingers toy with the strings of your swimsuit bottoms.

He kisses you, slowly, licking out over the seam of your lips until you open for him. His hands guide you backwards gently until he’s climbing over your body on his bed and Prince’s voice fades into Chris de Burgh’s.

His body presses against yours, weight heavy and making your eyelids flutter as his hand cups your cheek, then traces your shoulder, the curve of your breast down to your hip. Your stomach burns with want, fingers dig into his hair as he releases your lips and kisses your chin, your chest through his shirt. He only travels lower, pushing it up and kissing your stomach, along the seam of your suit. Your legs rise on either side of his head, fingers leaving his hair to curl into his sheets that surround you and fill the space with a cedar and mint haze.

“St-steve,” you hiccup as he nips at the inside of your thigh.

He moans, palms pressing you open wider, mouth leaving a wet and hot trail of kisses and breaths up each leg. This wasn’t the plan, he wanted to take it slow, but he can’t help it anymore. He speaks into your stomach, kissing your skin between every few words.

“Baby, please, can I taste you?” His fingers tug on the strings of your suit and his vision blurs when you make a sound that sounds like a whine and roll your hips, searching. He’s gone fully blind as you tug on his hair again, drunk off of you without a single taste.

“Yeah? Gonna let me put my mouth on you?” He noses at your cunt through the suit, dragging it up against the fabric, babbling anything that comes to his mind without a filter. “That what you want, honey? To come all over my tongue?”

Your palms press to the bed as you sit up, fingers tugging at the mess of brown waves between your thighs when his tongue licks over your suit.

Your mouth parts in a gasp, eyes fluttering from the barely there friction, the minimal release of the tension you’ve felt since the kitchen downstairs hours ago.

Steve looks up at the sound and nearly comes in his shorts, the image of your dazed eyes and pouting lips, the heave of your chest under his shirt having him really thinking about where his camera is again.

“Oh,” his voice falls into a teasing lilt, playing with his food before he eats it, “Look at you. You’re already fucked dumb and I haven’t done a thing.”

Your body is engulfed in flames at the taunting words, somehow turned on and irritated in the same sentence.

A Steve Harrington special skill, you think.

He curses the words almost immediately after they leave him, thinking he’s pushed it too far too fast but then you’re saying his name like that again, saying the word please so softly, so sincerely, his vision goes white and scratchy like the tape of all of his abilities to think clearly was just ejected from his brain.

Steve sits up with a groan, backing away from the bed with the shake of his head.

“You’re trouble,” he rasps, breathing heavily from across the room, back against his dresser.

“What’s wrong?” The mood shift jarring and making your legs close, your arms cross over your chest in a hug, wondering what you did.

“This,” he says then immediately waves his hands, “No, not like that! I-“ he cuts himself off with another groan, a hand swipes through his hair only making it messier. You clench around nothing at the wild hair, the pink cheeks, the dark chest hair and tan skin as he paces.

“I wanna-“ he starts.

“Harrington! Quit making out up there and bring down some of what I gave you! I’m tapped and the pizza guy’s here.”

Steve curses and he spins on his dresser, grabbing his wallet.

His wallet.

Bring down some of what I gave you.

His shoulders hunch as he swears again, “Those…brats. I swear to god I’m gonna kill them.”

He spins to find you yanking your shorts on, muttering, “I cannot believe I fucking fell for this.”

“Fell for…what are you talking about?” Steve steps closer and you back up quickly, waving your hand at him.

“Save it.”

He watches you storm out of the room, confused, and then looks down at the wallet and quickly rushes out after you, “No, no, no, honey it’s not-“

“Don’t,” you spin on the stairs, voice icy, “Call me honey.”

Steve takes another step down, pleading with his eyes as Eddie, Robin, and a stranger stand in the foyer, blinking up at the two of you. “Eddie didn’t give me money for that. He…” his hand swipes through his hair again, tongue over his lip as he lowers his voice, “Can we please go somewhere else to talk about this?”

Your arms cross and Steve sighs.

“He gave me money…for a different bet. Sort of bet. Bet is a bad word for it.”

Something rumbles in your chest once more, though no storm was forecasted, you should have known there was bound to be more.

Steve’s lips pout as he waves his hand while explaining in a ramble, “After the bet started, I told them how much I actually liked you. And they agreed to help me. And if I got you to actually give me a chance, with their help of course, Eddie’d pay for a real date and Robin would cover our shifts when we went.”

The explanation should be sweet, but all you can focus on is that Steve didn’t just have the guts to tell you right away. That your friends all helped manipulate you and lied. You start to wonder if the power even went out, if Eddie knew Steve would be at that party, if Robin put In Your Eyes on on purpose, the diner, your car being busted - all of it.

What was real between you and Steve, and what was made with movie magic?

The storm cracks in your chest, letting the first drops fall down your cheeks.

“I have to get out of here.”

The calls of your name and his steps behind you on the stairs ignored as your vision blurs.

Leaving a boy standing in a yard on Cornwallis street while you disappear without your shoes again.

BICFTF TAGLIST: don'thatemedon'thatemedon'thateme there's still two chapters left! As always, thank you for your support!

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf @khena @ytgus @starryeyedpoet17

@halfburntout @belle101200

#superbly subpar's writing #BICFTF #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #cw injury mention

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mrs-hatake · 2 months ago

Text

Jealous, jealous, jealous girl!

pairing: sylus x afab!reader

Surveying the N109 Zone is not a regular occurrence in your agenda…is what You told Yourself at first. In the beginning, You’d just patrol around Sylus’ neighborhood, ensuring that that sneaky little fox isn’t up to no good. Somehow, as the days turned into weeks, watching over the N109 Zone has become a habit that you can’t seem to break free from.

But Your endeavor isn’t fruitless. Though You have yet to witness Sylus competing any sort of felonies, You have stopped petty criminals from harassing the few innocent civilians living in the zone. At the mere sight of crime, You’ll wear a porcelain maroon mask (one that You’ve purchased so that Sylus won’t recognize you), jump out of Your car and head straight into battle.

The crimes aren’t much to begin with but the more You get involved, the lesser they’ve been committed. Your assistance even made news into their shoddy newspapers. Masked hero saves The Zone! Is how most of the headlines are read.

Tonight has been a quiet night. There are not bored looking children roaming the streets for some highly inappropriate prank that’ll cost the city quite a few millions in damages —not that the city council will do anything about it. You don’t spot shady looking people who are breaking and entering. It’s a silent night. Still, You wait out a few minutes, just to make sure that everything’s good before You leave.

Just as You’re about to press the grey button to start the engine, a familiar tuft of hair catches Your eyes.

Sylus, in his glorious height and broad shoulders, leisurely walks from around the block. A hand casually slipped into the pocket of his dark jeans pants. Though the man is giving the aura of friendliness, You can tell that Onychinus’ leader is on high alert. His shoulders being slightly elevated is a dead give away.

You observe the man, following his every move, ready to strike when needed. Despite the fact that the two of you have gotten closer in recent months, You still can’t fully trust Sylus. How can You when he’s a crime lord?

As You continue to watch, Your tense muscles relax. It truly does seem that Sylus is simply out for a walk. In the back of Your mind, You vaguely remember Sylus informing You that he has trouble sleeping at night. Maybe tonight is one of those nights and he thought that strolling through the city might tire him enough until he sleeps.

Just like earlier, You’re about to start Your car when a figure appears from the shadows.

High heels step into the street lights, black leather gleaming under the artificial lights. They’re adorned on feet that carry long and smooth pairs of legs. Supple thighs are barely hidden by a blood dress, too short and revealing to be worn in the dangerous streets of N109.

Sylus is a crime lord, that much is true, but You don’t believe he’d do something to an innocent woman but You can never be too sure.

With a bated breath, You watch as the two about to cross paths. They’ll pass each other and You’ll be reassured, once again, that Sylus isn’t all that bad.

However, the mysterious woman stopping directly in front of Sylus catches you off guard. Her boldness as she runs her finger down Syulus chest, the very same one that’s been haunting You in Your dreams, has You gawking in disbelief.

Her flirtatious demeanor that is eagerly reciprocated by Sylus has You double taking at the exchange. Yeah, Onychinus’ leader can come off as flirty with You at times but it’s never anything serious. Yet, seeing Sylus’ lips curly lazily as his eyes appreciatively roam over the woman’s figure has Your chest feeling hollow.

Without a thought, You shove Your car door open and march to where the two are.

Thoughts of Sylus’ teasing remarks, him relentlessly calling You kitten, sweetie and other frivolous pet names, the nonstop skinship, all of those seemingly insignificant moments has Your footsteps thundering down the chewing gum covered pavement.

Once they’re within reach, You impulsively yank Sylus away from the woman and step between the two of them.

Purple eyes that can be mistaken for sugilite blink with incredulity. The woman’s—whom Your brain tauntingly marvels at her beauty—pouty lips part ways, as if to defend herself but You don’t let her.

“Sorry.” You press Yourself closer to a stupor caught Sylus. Glaring at the woman, You continue, “He already has someone to warm his bed at night.”

“What?” Both Sylus and the woman ask, as if they haven’t heard what You had said.

You don’t repeat Yourself but the fire burning in Your gaze is warning enough for the woman to back off.

Suddenly, a quick bark of laughter cuts through the night air.

The nerve of the woman to laugh at You!

Behind You, a voice sighs, “Y/N.”

The heated glare is now directed at Sylus who has his face hidden behind his large hand.

“And you!” You shove Your finger into his rock solid abs, “How dare you seduce me and flirt with another woman?” You spit out the words in his face.

“I-” Sylus tries to explain but You cut him off.

“I took You for many things, Sylus, but a womanizer wasn’t one of them!” Your tone is cold and disapproving.

Sylus, despite being on the receiving end of Your venomous words and harsh glare, stares down at You in amusement. This only adds fire to the fuel.

“What’s so funny?!” Your gaze shifts between the giggling woman and the amused looking Sylus, nausea churning Your stomach. You need to leave before You continue making a fool out of Yourself. Screw Sylus for his flirtatious nature. And screw him for playing with Your heart.

“Relax Y/N.” A familiar voice stops You from running away in embarrassment and driving all the way home with Your vision filled with tears.

“Kieran?” You blink in astonishment at the…woman? “What?”

Kieran chuckles, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I’m not stealing your man, don’t worry.”

When You’re still staring at him with shocked confusion, Kieran explains, “Boss and I are luring out a rival kingpin who has been relentlessly targeting our organization.”

“But,” You tilt Your head, still trying to process what has been said to You, “why are you dressed as a woman?”

Vibrant red colors Kieran’s cheeks, amplifying his beauty. He avoids meeting Your eyes as he explains, “The dirtbag has a specific type of woman and I’m the only one who matches the description. Luke’s sick so…” he rubs the back of his neck.

An awkward silence envelopes around the both of you. It is only interrupted by Sylus’ chuckle.

As if remembering his existence, Your entire body flushes in embarrassment as Your behavior from earlier caught up to You.

“So you’ve been warming up my bed?” His eyebrow rises when You turn to face him, “I’ve been wondering why I’ve been sleeping so restfully the past few days.”

Mortified, Your hands shoot out to push Sylus away but he catches Your wrists in a strong grip, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Sylus leans forward, his lips a hair's breadth away from yours, “Never.”

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #sylus x mc #love and deepspace fic

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keehomania · 28 days ago

Text

dark side — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ angst, smut, the story of anakin and padmé re-told, murder, genocide, swearing, reader is older than rafe here, death, the phantom menace, attack of the clones, revenge of the sith, emotional manipulation, fuck the jedis all my homies hate the jedis, unprotected sex, pregnancy

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a galaxy far, far away was an arras of countless worlds, woven together by the invisible threads of trade routes, alliances, and ancient rivalries. at its heart stood the core worlds, dazzling centers of power and wealth, where spires of glittering cities pierced the heavens. beyond them stretched the mid rim, a crossroads of commerce, where prosperous planets bustled with life. and further still lay the outer rim—a lawless expanse of stars and shadows, where danger thrived in the absence of order.

in this vast universe, power was a currency, exchanged between those bold enough to seize it and those desperate enough to relinquish it. the galactic federation had long served as the fragile scaffolding of peace, uniting distant systems under a single banner. but peace, like the stars themselves, was fleeting. greed gnawed at its edges, and whispers of rebellion echoed through the void.

the skies above ilthara, a desert moon on the outer rim, burned with twin suns. beneath their relentless gaze sprawled a bustling spaceport, its air thick with the acrid scent of fuel and spice. traders bartered with shrill voices, hawking wares that glittered like starlight or reeked of danger. starships of every make and model hovered in dock, their hulls scarred from journeys across the galaxy’s treacherous veins.

rafe cameron was a child of this chaos. born into the cameron syndicate, whose name was spoken with a mixture of awe and disdain, his life had been one of no privilege painted in shades of grit. the syndicate thrived on control—of cargo lanes, planetary exports, and the illicit trade that oiled the galaxy's endless machinery. rafe, though only nine years old, bore the weight of this legacy like a mantle too large for his narrow shoulders, as a slave.

his mother had vanished years ago, swept away by the same treacheries that had made his father rich. his father, ward cameron, ruled their holdings with an iron fist, and though rafe was young, he had already learned that strength was not a choice—it was survival. he walked the crowded streets of ilthara’s markets with a practiced air of confidence, sharp blue eyes scanning every face, every deal, every hidden blade.

he was clever, too clever for his own good, many would say. where other children played, he schemed. where others begged for scraps, he found ways to barter, to manipulate. he was small for his age, wiry, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to see too much and a mouth prone to smirking as if he already knew the punchline of a joke you hadn’t yet told.

that day, he sat atop a rusting cargo container, legs swinging idly, watching the chaos unfold below him. he liked to think of himself as a king surveying his kingdom, though in truth, his “kingdom” was little more than the market district where his father’s reach was strongest. still, he had learned that appearances mattered, and sitting up high gave him the advantage of looking down on everyone else.

“rafe!” a gruff voice cut through the clamor, and rafe turned to see garro, one of his father’s enforcers, lumbering toward him. “what do you think you’re doing up there? your old man’ll skin me alive if i lose track of you.”

rafe rolled his eyes but slid down from his perch, landing in a puff of dust. “relax, garro. you worry too much.”

“it’s my job to worry,” the man grunted, his scarred face contorting into something that might have been a frown. “your father doesn’t want you wandering off.”

“i’m not wandering,” he retorted, brushing the sand off his trousers. “i’m observing. there’s a difference.”

garro muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. he knew better than to try reasoning with the boy. rafe had his father’s stubborn streak, though he wielded it with a charm that could be disarming—when he chose to use it.

the market was alive with noise and color, from the sizzling of food stalls to the sharp calls of traders hawking everything from exotic spices to battered starship parts. rafe wove through the crowd with ease, his small frame slipping between larger bodies like a shadow. he listened, always listened. every whispered deal, every raised voice, every nervous glance—it all painted a picture of the galaxy’s ceaseless dance of power and survival.

he stopped in front of a stall where a twi’lek merchant was haggling with a rodian over the price of a damaged hyperdrive coil. rafe didn’t need to hear the details to know the coil was stolen—it was written in the way the twi’lek’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter.

“three hundred credits,” the rodian barked, waving his blaster for emphasis.

“five hundred,” the twi’lek shot back, though his voice wavered.

“four,” rafe interjected boldly, stepping between them. both aliens turned to him, startled, but rafe only smiled. “and you’ll throw in that fuel regulator,” he added, nodding toward a piece of equipment half-hidden under the counter.

“who do you think you are, kid?” the rodian growled, his green skin darkening with irritation.

“someone who knows a good deal when he sees one,” rafe replied, unfazed. he turned to the twi’lek. “four hundred credits and the regulator. take it or leave it.”

the twi’lek hesitated, then nodded quickly. “fine. take it.”

the rodian grumbled but handed over the credits, snatching up the hyperdrive coil and the regulator before stomping off. rafe grinned, satisfied. he hadn’t earned anything from the deal, but he didn’t need to. influence was its own reward. but as the day wore on, the usual rhythm of the market began to shift. whispers spread like wildfire, voices hushed yet urgent. a ship had landed at the spaceport—not just any ship, but a royal cruiser, its polished hull gleaming even under ilthara’s harsh suns.

rafe felt the change before he saw it, the way the crowd grew uneasy, their movements jittery. he followed the murmurs, weaving through the throng until he reached the edge of the landing platform. and there it was—a sleek vessel, unlike anything he’d ever seen. Its ramp lowered with a hiss of hydraulics, and figures began to descend. first came the guards, their blasters held with military precision. then came two men in brown robes, their hoods pulled low but their presence undeniable. jedi.

rafe’s heart skipped. he’d heard the stories, of course—who hadn’t? but seeing them in the flesh was something else entirely. they moved with a calm purpose, their hands resting lightly on the hilts of their lightsabers. and then you appeared. your dress was simple yet elegant, your posture regal. even from a distance, rafe could see the weight you carried, the responsibility etched into your features. you were older than him—fourteen, maybe fifteen—but there was something about you that made you seem untouchable.

“who is she?” he asked aloud, though no one answered. it didn’t matter. rafe didn’t need to know your name to feel the pull of destiny.

rafe couldn’t take his eyes off you. you were unlike anyone he’d ever seen, your very presence radiating authority and elegance, yet there was something in your eyes—something fragile, as if the weight of the galaxy rested on your shoulders. the crowd parted instinctively as you moved, flanked by the two jedi. whispers rippled through the market like a gust of wind.

“that’s the queen of naboo,” someone murmured.

“the jedi are protecting her.”

“why is she here? what does naboo want with ilthara?”

rafe absorbed the words without reacting, his sharp mind piecing together the puzzle. naboo was a distant world, far removed from the outer rim. its queen’s presence here was no coincidence. whatever your reasons, they were tied to the unrest gripping the galaxy.

you had stopped at a stall, her delicate fingers brushing over a display of woven fabrics. the merchant stammered nervously under your gaze, bowing repeatedly. rafe edged closer, his curiosity getting the better of him.

he was so focused on you that he didn’t notice the jedi until he nearly walked into one. the taller of the two—broad-shouldered, with piercing blue eyes—glanced down at him. rafe froze, suddenly aware of how small he was in the presence of someone so commanding.

“careful, young one,” the jedi said, his voice calm but firm.

rafe blinked, recovering quickly. “i wasn’t doing anything,” he replied, feigning innocence.

the jedi didn’t respond, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to you.

rafe’s attention shifted back to the you. you were closer now, inspecting a piece of jewelry the merchant had presented. your guards stood rigid, their eyes scanning the crowd for threats. it was then that your gaze lifted and met his. for a heartbeat, time seemed to still. you eyes were a rich color, deep and full of questions. rafe felt as if you could see straight through him, past his confident smile and into the boy beneath.

“who are you?” you asked, your voice soft but commanding.

rafe hesitated, caught off guard. “rafe,” he said finally. “rafe cameron.”

you tilted your head, studying him. “you’re not from naboo.”

he laughed, a sound that came out sharper than he intended. “no, i’m not. and you’re not from around here.”

you didn’t smile, but there was a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “no. i’m not.”

the older jedi stepped forward, a subtle but clear gesture of protection. “your majesty,” he said gently, “we should move on.” your gaze lingered on the young boy for a moment longer before she nodded. “of course, master qui-gon.”

rafe watched as you turned and walked away, the jedi and your guards forming a protective circle around you. he felt a strange pang in his chest, a sense of loss he couldn’t explain. but he wasn’t ready to let you go.

as you and your entourage made your way through the market, rafe followed at a distance, keeping to the shadows. he wasn’t sure why—something about you drew him in, a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. you were out of place here, just like him, and he wanted to understand why. he wasn’t the only one watching you, though. across the market, a group of rough-looking men had begun to move, their eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam. rafe recognized them immediately—slavers, the kind who preyed on the weak and desperate.

his jaw tightened. slavers were common on Ilthara, and while the cameron syndicate didn’t deal in flesh, his father often turned a blind eye to their operations. But this was different. you didn’t belong here, and you didn’t deserve to fall into their hands. without thinking, rafe quickened his pace, slipping through the crowd until he was just behind the slavers. they were murmuring to each other, their intentions clear.

“she’ll fetch a high price,” one of them muttered.

“keep your voice down,” another snapped. “wait for the right moment.”

rafe’s hands clenched into fists. he didn’t know what he could do against men twice his size, but he couldn’t just stand by. before he could act, though, the jedi moved. qui-gon and the younger man—obi-wan, rafe overheard someone say—turned as one, their movements fluid and precise. In the blink of an eye, their lightsabers ignited, blue and green blades humming with an otherworldly energy.

the crowd scattered, gasps and screams filling the air as the jedi advanced on the slavers. the men hesitated for a moment, clearly realizing they were outmatched, before fleeing into the shadows. rafe stood frozen, his heart pounding. he’d never seen a lightsaber in action before, and the sight of it left him awestruck.

you turned, your expression calm but your eyes wary. “is everything all right, master qui-gon?”

he deactivated his saber, nodding. “for now. but we should hurry. this place is dangerous.”

as the group began to move again, rafe found himself stepping forward. “wait!” he called, surprising even himself. you had turned around, your brow furrowing slightly.

“you’re not safe here,” rafe said, his voice steadier than he felt. “i can help you.”

qui-gon regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “and why would you help us?”

rafe hesitated, his gaze shifting to you. “because i can,” he said finally. “and because i want to.” for a moment, no one spoke. then, you nodded. “very well. lead the way, rafe cameron.”

the air in the dimly lit chamber buzzed with tension as the group huddled around the holographic map of the galaxy. you, with your regal poise unwavering even under dire circumstances—listened intently to qui-gon and obi-wan discuss their next move.

“our best course of action is to reach coruscant,” qui-gon said, his deep voice steady. “the galactic senate must be informed of the trade federation’s blockade and the invasion of naboo. they may not act swiftly, but they need to know.”

you nodded, your expression unreadable. “and how do we get there with a damaged hyperdrive? we’re stranded unless we make repairs.”

obi-wan leaned over the console, his brow furrowed. “there’s a remote desert planet nearby—tatooine. its location on the outer rim keeps it out of the trade federation’s reach. we might find the parts we need there.”

“you’re suggesting we gamble on the resources of a planet run by gangsters and criminals?” captain panaka interjected, his voice tight with concern.

qui-gon’s expression softened but remained resolute. “it’s a risk, but one we must take. staying here is not an option.”

in the corner of the room, rafe stood quietly, listening but not fully understanding the weight of their decision. his sharp blue eyes darted between the speakers, lingering on you—now disguised as a handmaiden. you had shed the heavy robes and ornate headdress of naboo royalty, blending into the background with the other attendants.

rafe’s gaze lingered as you adjusted the folds of your cloak, your every movement drawing his attention like a magnet. he had never seen anyone so poised, so out of reach yet entirely captivating. the sleek silver starship descended onto the golden sands of tatooine, its engines whining as the ship struggled to land smoothly. the harsh desert sun blazed overhead, reflecting off the endless dunes and casting long shadows.

the group disembarked cautiously, the arid heat hitting them like a physical force. rafe shielded his eyes from the glare, taking in the sprawling spaceport of mos espa—a chaotic mix of ramshackle buildings, alien vendors, and dust-choked streets.

“i don’t like this place,” rafe muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

qui-gon, accompanied by jar jar binks and r2-d2, turned to face you and your disguised attendants. “stay with the ship. i’ll find the parts we need.”

you stepped forward, determined despite the jedi’s warning look. “master jinn, perhaps i can assist. i’ve learned to barter and negotiate during my time in service.”

qui-gon hesitated, then nodded. “stay close.”

rafe immediately perked up. “can i come too?”

obi-wan stepped in, his voice firm. “you’ll remain here, rafe. it’s safer.” the boy frowned but didn’t argue. instead, he watched as you and the others disappeared into the labyrinth of the marketplace.

rafe spent the better part of the day wandering near the ship, restless and bored. when you finally returned, dusty and weary from the search, he rushed to meet you. there wasn’t a chance in the world of him taking his eyes off you, not when you looked so beautiful, so etherreal—unlike anything he had ever seen.

“are you an angel?” he blurted out, his cheeks flushing the moment the words left his mouth.

you paused, taken aback by the question. “excuse me?”

“an angel,” he repeated, his voice more confident this time. “i heard some pilots talking about them. they’re the most beautiful creatures in the galaxy, and they live on the moons of Iego. are you from there?”

a smile tugged at your lips, despite yourself. “no, i’m afraid not.”

“well, you look like one,” rafe said earnestly.

the sincerity in his eyes caught you off guard. for all his young swagger and bravado, there was still a boyish innocence to him—a flicker of hope in an otherwise hardened exterior. you crouched to his level, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?” rafe grinned, the kind of grin that hinted at the man he would someday become.

that evening, as you sat with obi-wan outside the ship, he explained the harsh realities of tatooine. “slavery is rampant here,” obi-wan said, his voice low. “the hutts control most of the planet, and anyone who crosses them doesn’t last long.”

“and rafe?” you asked, your heart sinking. “he’s a slave too, isn’t he?”

obi-wan nodded. “he belongs to the cameron family—a notorious group of slavers who’ve operated here for decades. his father is ruthless, but the boy—he’s different. there’s something about him.” your chest tightened. you had sensed it too—a spark in rafe that defied his circumstances, a potential for something greater.

when qui-gon proposed entering rafe in the boonta eve classic podrace to win the parts they needed, the boy’s face lit up with excitement. “i can do it,” he insisted. “i’ve built my own podracer. it’s fast—really fast.” you weren’t too thrilled with the idea of sending someone so young off, knowing the damage that it could do, but he persisted, nonetheless.

your worries failed to falter, even as the race started. it all seemed like a blur of adrenaline and danger, the roar of engines echoing across the desert. you watched from the stands, your heart in your throat as rafe maneuvered his podracer with skill and precision far beyond his years. your worries were cut short when he crossed the finish line, the sound of the crowd erupting in cheers drowning out your fear.

while preparing to leave tatooine, a conspicuous shadow fell over the dunes. to the others, he needed no introduction, but the look of fear in rafe’s eyes made it evident that he bad no idea what he was really getting into. when darth maul appeared, his crimson double-bladed lightsaber ignited with a menacing hum.

qui-gon faced him head-on, his green blade contradicting the sith’s fiery red. “go!” he had shouted over his shoulder. “get to the ship!” rafe clutched your hand as you ran, his small fingers trembling. the clash of sabers rang in your ears, the stakes suddenly feeling far too real for him to handle.

the hangar bay of the naboo palace was silent save for the hum of the force field gates and the ominous footsteps of darth maul. his black robes swept the floor as he stepped forward, his tattooed face a mask of focus and malevolence. qui-gon jinn and obi-wan kenobi ignited their lightsabers, the green and blue blades illuminating their determined faces. maul, in response, revealed his double-bladed crimson weapon, both ends sparking to life with a snap-hiss. the sith’s grin widened. he prowled like a predator sizing up its prey.

the first clash of sabers echoed across the chamber, a flurry of sparks flying as the jedi and the sith locked into combat. qui-gon moved with deliberate precision, his strikes steady and purposeful. obi-wan, younger and more agile, darted around maul with quick, fluid movements, searching for an opening. maul, however, held the advantage. his acrobatics were dazzling, his twin blades a blur of lethal light.

from the shadows, you watched with bated breath. the duel was unlike anything you had ever seen—elegant yet brutal, a deadly dance of light and shadow. rafe stood beside you, his small hands gripping the railing tightly. his wide eyes reflected the glow of the sabers, a mix of awe and fear etched into his face.

“they can win, right?” he asked quietly.

you glanced at him, unsure of how to respond. “they have to.”

the duel moved out of the hangar and into a long, narrow corridor lined with energy barriers that activated and deactivated in rhythmic intervals. the combatants were forced to adapt to the environment, their battle pausing and resuming as the barriers shifted. obi-wan, momentarily separated from qui-gon, stood helplessly behind one of the fields, his face tense with worry. qui-gon faced maul alone, his strikes still strong but beginning to slow. the sith pressed the advantage, his movements relentless and precise. with a sudden, ferocious lunge, he struck qui-gon in the chest.

“no!” obi-wan’s shout echoed down the corridor as qui-gon staggered backward, his lightsaber slipping from his grasp. he collapsed to the floor, clutching his wound, his breath ragged.

in the hangar, rafe turned to you, his expression panicked. “we have to help them!”

“stay here,” you said firmly, grabbing his arm before he could dart off. “you’ll only put yourself in danger.”

“i can’t just stand here!” he insisted, his voice cracking.

“listen to me,” you said, crouching to meet his eye level. “sometimes, the best thing we can do is trust them to do what they’ve trained for.” rafe hesitated, tears pooling in his eyes, but he nodded reluctantly.

when the energy barrier deactivated, obi-wan surged forward, his lightsaber a blur of blue light as he unleashed a flurry of attacks on maul. his strikes were fueled by rage and grief, each swing more aggressive than the last. maul, however, was ready. he deflected obi-wan’s blows with ease, his smug grin only stoking the jedi’s fury. the fight moved to a deep reactor shaft, its narrow walkways suspended over a seemingly endless drop.

maul’s taunts were silent but evident, his predatory gaze daring obi-wan to make a mistake. and he did. with a precise kick, maul sent the jedi tumbling over the edge. obi-wan managed to grab hold of a protruding ledge, his lightsaber falling into the abyss below. hanging precariously, he looked up to see maul looming above him, his red blade poised for the killing blow.

in the hangar, rafe’s restless energy reached a boiling point. “i have to do something,” he muttered, his voice trembling. before you could stop him, he darted toward the starship he had piloted earlier. Yyu called after him, but he was already climbing into the cockpit.

“what are you doing?” you shouted.

“helping!” he called back, his voice muffled by the canopy.

rafe powered up the starfighter, its engines roaring to life. he maneuvered it with surprising skill, guiding it toward the palace’s main control tower. in the reactor shaft, obi-wan closed his eyes, drawing on the force to calm his racing heart. he reached out with his mind, summoning qui-gon’s fallen lightsaber.

the green blade flew into his outstretched hand, igniting just as maul prepared to strike. with a powerful leap, obi-wan launched himself back onto the walkway, catching the sith off guard. in a final, decisive move, he sliced through maul’s midsection. the sith’s body fell into the abyss, his expression of shock frozen in time. obi-wan deactivated the lightsaber, quick to rush to qui-gon’s side.

the jedi master’s face was pale, his breaths shallow. “obi-wan, promise me something,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“anything, master,” he said, tears streaming down his face.

“train the boy,” qui-gon said, his gaze shifting to rafe, who had just entered the room. “he—he is the chosen one.” and just like that, his eyes closed, his head tilting to the side as he breathed his last.

in the skies above naboo, rafe found himself in the middle of the battle. his small hands gripped the controls tightly as he weaved through enemy fire, his instincts guiding him. he accidentally entered the droid control ship’s hangar, where his starfighter’s torpedoes misfired, hitting the reactor core. a chain reaction of explosions began to tear the ship apart.

“oops,” he muttered, his face pale as he scrambled to escape. he barely made it out as the control ship exploded in a brilliant flash of light. the droid army on the surface shut down, collapsing mid-attack.

the people of naboo and the gungans united in celebration. the streets of theed were filled with music and cheers as you and your allies marched in triumph.

rafe stood beside you, his face a mix of pride and uncertainty. “i didn’t mean to blow it up,” he said sheepishly.

you laughed, ruffling his hair. “you saved the day, rafe. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

the galaxy had grown restless in the years since the boy named rafe won his freedom and began training under obi-wan kenobi. the republic, once a beacon of peace and stability, was now a fractured entity, its senate riddled with corruption and inefficiency. systems began seceding, joining the separatists under the enigmatic count dooku, a former jedi turned political leader. whispers of war rippled through the galaxy, and the jedi order found itself stretched thin, forced to serve as both peacekeepers and soldiers in a galaxy teetering on the edge of chaos.

rafe had changed in the years since he was freed. the child who once wore a lopsided grin and looked at the stars with wonder had grown into a man. his presence was commanding, his voice steady, his features refined and sharp. the dark curls of his hair framed his face, and his eyes, once bright with innocence, now carried the weight of someone who had seen far too much in far too little time. he stood taller now, his shoulders broad, his movements deliberate. his strength in the force had blossomed, but his emotions—intense and untamed—remained a challenge for him, often clashing with the rigid codes of the jedi order.

it was during this period of uncertainty that your paths crossed again. you had grown too, rising to prominence as a senator, your voice a steady force of reason in the republic’s senate. it had been years since you’d seen rafe, but his memory lingered in the back of your mind like a distant star, faint but unwavering. your days were consumed by the demands of politics, and your nights offered little solace as the threats against your life increased. the stakes of the galaxy's future weighed heavily on you, and danger had become a constant companion.

the jedi council assigned obi-wan kenobi and his padawan, rafe, to your protection after the first assassination attempt nearly claimed your life. the moment you saw him again, your breath caught in your throat. he was no longer the boy you remembered but a man who carried himself with a quiet confidence that was almost disarming. his robes flowed elegantly around him, and his gaze, once warm and open, now held an intensity that both unnerved and captivated you.

“senator,” he greeted with a formal bow, his voice deep and steady.

you met his gaze, your own faltering for a moment. “rafe. it’s been a long time.”

his lips twitched as though he wanted to smile, but the weight of his role kept his expression neutral. “too long,” he replied, his tone betraying the slightest hint of warmth. for a time, it seemed his mentor, obi-wan, was the only one who noticed the flicker of something unspoken between you.

the night of the second assassination attempt was chaotic. you awoke to the faint hum of servos as a sleek droid slipped into your quarters, its metallic limbs moving with eerie precision. before you could cry out, the door burst open, and rafe was there, his lightsaber blazing. the blue glow of his weapon illuminated the room as he moved with the grace and precision of a trained warrior, slicing the droid in two before it could harm you.

he turned to you immediately, his breathing slightly labored. “are you hurt?”

you shook your head, still shaken but unharmed. “no. i’m fine, thanks to you.”

obi-wan arrived shortly after, assessing the scene with his sharp eyes. “this attack was no coincidence. they’ll try again. we need to get the senator off-world.”

rafe nodded, his jaw tightening. “i’ll go with her.”

obi-wan hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and rafe. “are you sure that’s wise?”

“i’ll keep her safe,” rafe said with a conviction that left no room for argument.

the journey to naboo was quiet. the lush, rolling hills and tranquil lakes of your home planet offered a stark contrast to the chaos you had left behind on coruscant. for the first time in what felt like years, you could breathe. yet, even amidst the serenity of naboo, there was an unspoken tension between you and rafe, a tension that grew with each passing day.

one evening, the two of you sat by the water’s edge, the setting sun casting golden hues over the lake. rafe broke the silence, his voice softer than usual. “i used to dream about this place. when i was a boy, on tatooine, i used to imagine what it would be like to see naboo with my own eyes.”

you glanced at him, your heart aching at the memory of the boy he had been. “and now that you’re here?”

“it’s more beautiful than i could have imagined,” he said, his gaze lingering on you as he spoke.

his words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. you turned away, your mind racing. “rafe, we can’t. you know what the jedi code says.”

“i don’t care about the code,” he said, his voice suddenly fierce. “not when it comes to you.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tentative but full of emotion. for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, in him, before pulling away, your heart pounding.

“rafe, this isn’t right,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction. you couldn’t focus on what your heart asked for, you needed to focus on what mattered—your people.

“i know,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “but it doesn’t change how i feel.”

the days that followed were as tense as ever, both of you teetering on the edge of something forbidden yet irresistible. but rafe’s peace was short-lived. his dreams began to haunt him, vivid and terrifying visions of his mother in pain, crying out for help. he woke one night drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged.

“i need to go to tatooine,” he told you the next morning, his expression grim.

you didn’t hesitate. “i’ll go with you.”

the journey to tatooine was somber, and the planet greeted you with its unforgiving heat and endless dunes. at the lars homestead, rafe learned the devastating truth: his mother had been taken by tusken raiders weeks ago. without hesitation, he mounted a speeder and sped off into the desert, his jaw set with determination.

you followed, arriving at the camp just in time to witness the aftermath. the ground was littered with the bodies of tusken raiders, and rafe stood amidst the carnage, his lightsaber still ignited. his chest heaved with exertion, his face a mask of anguish and fury. later, back at the ship, he confessed everything to you, his voice trembling with shame and anger.

“i killed them,” he said, his gaze fixed on the floor. “every last one of them. and not just the men, but the women, and the children. they were animals, and i slaughtered them like animals.”

you reached for him, but he pulled away, his shoulders shaking. “i couldn’t save her. i couldn’t do anything.”

you sat beside him in silence, your heart breaking for the man who was clearly at war with himself.

the galaxy had shifted once again, and as the republic scrambled to understand the scope of the growing separatist threat, rafe’s anguish over his mother’s death weighed heavily on him. the dark seed planted in his heart during that moment of rage on tatooine had begun to take root. you could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the faraway look that occasionally clouded his otherwise piercing eyes. his internal struggle was palpable, and it pained you to see the boy you once knew so tormented by emotions he couldn’t control.

you left tatooine quickly, both of you seeking distance from the horrors that had transpired. rafe was quieter now, his usual confidence replaced by a brooding intensity. even as you tried to comfort him, offering words of solace and gentle touches on his arm, you could feel the wall he had built around himself growing thicker.

your brief respite was interrupted when rafe received word from obi-wan. his mentor had tracked the bounty hunter responsible for the attempts on your life to the planet kamino. there, obi-wan had discovered a massive army of clones commissioned in secret years ago, supposedly at the request of a long-dead jedi named sifo-dyas. the clones were based on the genetic template of the very bounty hunter who had tried to kill you.

rafe listened to the transmission in silence, his expression unreadable. when obi-wan informed him that he was pursuing the bounty hunter to geonosis, rafe turned to you. “i have to help him,” he said simply, his voice steady but heavy with determination.

“and what about me?” you asked, your heart sinking at the thought of him leaving.

his gaze softened, the conflict in his eyes breaking through his stoic demeanor. “i need you to stay safe. but if you insist on coming with me, i won’t stop you. i can’t bear to leave you behind.”

you chose to go with him. the two of you traveled to geonosis, where the tension between you only deepened. the unspoken feelings, the stolen moments, the lingering glances—they all weighed heavily on both of you. upon arriving on the barren, rocky world, it didn’t take long to locate obi-wan. unfortunately, you were quickly captured by separatist forces and thrown into a holding cell alongside him. rafe’s frustration was evident as he paced the confines of your prison, his fists clenched and his mind racing for a way to escape.

“rafe, calm down,” obi-wan urged, his voice steady. “losing control won’t help us here.”

rafe shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “i won’t let them hurt her,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

before either of you could respond, you were dragged from your cell and taken to the geonosian arena. the heat of the midday sun was oppressive as you were chained to one of three stone pillars. across the sand, monstrous creatures were released, their snarls and roars filling the air.

the fight that ensued was desperate. rafe moved like a whirlwind, using his lightsaber and the force to keep the creatures at bay. obi-wan fought alongside him, their movements fluid and precise despite the dire circumstances. you did your best to fend off the beast that lunged toward you, using the resources around you to stay alive until rafe reached your side.

“i’ve got you,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos. his words were both a promise and a comfort, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that everything would be okay.

relief came in the form of mace windu and a battalion of jedi, their lightsabers igniting in unison as they stormed the arena. the sight was awe-inspiring, and for a moment, it seemed as though victory was within reach. but the separatists refused to surrender, and the battle quickly escalated into an all-out war as droids poured into the arena.

in the midst of it, you were separated from rafe. he fought valiantly alongside obi-wan, his determination unwavering despite the odds. when the bounty hunter jango fett was killed in the melee, rafe barely spared him a glance, his focus fixed on the larger threat looming over the galaxy.

the battle raged on, culminating in a chase as count dooku attempted to flee the planet. rafe and obi-wan pursued him, their dropship racing across the barren landscape. you had managed to rejoin them, but the pursuit took a devastating turn when you were thrown from the ship during a violent maneuver.

“turn back!” rafe shouted, his voice filled with panic.

obi-wan grabbed his arm, his tone firm. “we can’t. if we lose dooku now, everything we’ve fought for will be in vain.” rafe hesitated, his eyes darting between you and the fading trail of dooku’s ship. finally, he made the painful decision to continue the chase, his jaw tightening as he turned away from the sight of you lying unconscious on the ground below.

the confrontation with dooku was brutal. the sith lord was a formidable opponent, his skill with a lightsaber far surpassing what either rafe or obi-wan had anticipated. rafe fought with everything he had, his emotions driving him as much as his training. but it wasn’t enough. dooku struck him down, severing his arm and leaving him writhing in pain on the ground.

obi-wan fared no better, and it wasn’t until yoda arrived that dooku’s escape was delayed. the diminutive jedi master fought valiantly, but dooku ultimately escaped, taking with him plans for a devastating weapon—the death star.

when you finally reunited with rafe, his injuries were severe, but his spirit remained unbroken. you stayed by his side as he recovered, your feelings for him growing stronger with each passing day. the war had only just begun, and the galaxy was in chaos, but for a brief moment, there was peace in the small, secret world you shared with him.

it was on naboo, under the soft light of the moon, that you and rafe made a choice that would forever alter the course of your lives. despite the jedi code, despite the war, despite everything, you pledged yourselves to each other in a quiet ceremony. it was a forbidden union, but in that moment, it felt like the only thing that truly mattered.

the soft hum of naboo's evening air filled the quiet, secluded garden where your forbidden ceremony was to take place. the lush greenery was dappled with the golden light of fireflies, their glow dancing along the delicate petals of exotic flowers that framed the scene. a serene lake stretched into the horizon, its waters mirroring the full moon and the endless stars above. everything felt alive and magical, as though the galaxy itself was holding its breath for this moment.

rafe stood beneath a canopy of wisteria, his tall figure framed by the delicate purple blooms. he was clad in simple jedi robes, but the way they draped over his broad shoulders made him look regal, commanding. his golden hair caught the moonlight, and his face held a mixture of determination and vulnerability. his eyes, deep and filled with unspoken emotion, never left yours as you approached him.

you wore a gown of soft ivory, simple yet elegant. it flowed like water, trailing behind you as you walked barefoot through the grass. your hair was adorned with small blossoms that rafe had picked himself earlier that day, each one a symbol of the beauty he saw in you.

the only witness to your union was the droid, r2-d2, who had faithfully followed rafe throughout his journey. his small, chirping beeps provided an oddly comforting backdrop, a reminder of the innocence and wonder that still existed despite the turmoil of the galaxy.

rafe reached for your hands the moment you were close enough, his touch warm and grounding. his thumb brushed over your knuckles as he took a steadying breath, his voice soft but firm when he spoke.

“i know this is forbidden,” he began, his words heavy with the weight of his choice. “but i also know that my love for you is stronger than anything I’ve ever been taught to fear. the code, it’s meant to protect us, but it can’t define what’s in my heart. and my heart belongs to you.”

you felt a lump form in your throat, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. you squeezed his hands, your voice trembling as you replied.

“rafe, i’ve spent so long trying to suppress how i feel, trying to convince myself that this—this isn’t real. but it is. and i can’t imagine a future without you in it. if loving you is wrong, then i’ll break every rule a thousand times over, just to be by your side.”

he smiled, a rare, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “you’ve always been braver than me,” he murmured, his voice tinged with admiration.

you both turned toward the small hologram projector that r2-d2 had activated, its flickering light casting an ethereal glow over the scene. the image of a naboo holy figure appeared, his serene expression a contrast to the quiet defiance in your hearts.

“do you, rafe cameron, take this woman to be your partner, to love her and stand by her, no matter what trials the galaxy may bring?”

rafe’s gaze never wavered from yours. “i do,” he said, his voice steady, filled with unwavering conviction.

“and do you, senator (y/n) (l/n),” the figure turned to you, “take this man to be your partner, to love him and remain by his side, through light and shadow?”

your lips trembled as you whispered, “i do.”

rafe reached into his pocket, pulling out a simple ring he had crafted himself. it wasn’t made of expensive materials, but the smooth, polished band reflected the care and effort he had put into it. he slid it onto your finger, his hands trembling slightly.

“i give you this ring,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion, “as a symbol of my promise to you. no matter where the galaxy takes us, no matter what challenges we face, i will always find my way back to you.”

you blinked back tears, pulling a similar band from your pocket. it was simple, but etched along its surface were faint patterns you had carved—a representation of the stars and the bond you shared. you placed it on his finger, your hands steady despite the flood of emotion. “and i give you this ring,” you said, your voice strong, “to remind you that you are my home. wherever you are, rafe, that’s where i’ll always belong.”

he stepped closer, his hands cradling your face as he leaned in. “i love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. as his lips met yours, the world around you seemed to fade away. the fireflies paused their dance, the gentle rustle of the trees grew still, and for a moment, it was as though time itself held its breath.

rafe hadn’t returned to the jedi temple that night. the weight of his choices, the life he was trying to lead, and the love he could no longer deny had driven him straight to you. like a moth drawn to a flame, he was helpless against the pull you had over him, as though you had tethered him with an invisible string that always brought him back. every thought of you consumed him, every beat of his heart ached for the solace only you could provide.

the quiet hum of the naboo night greeted him as he slipped into your quarters, his presence nearly undetectable. his robes swished softly against the floor as he moved through the darkened space, the moonlight streaming through the curtains casting silver trails across the bed where you waited for him. his breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of you.

you were lying there, your body delicate on top of the thin sheets, wearing only a white lace tank top and the soft fabric of your panties. your hair cascaded over the pillow, catching the moonlight like strands of spun gold. the soft rise and fall of your chest matched the calm serenity of the room, but the look in your eyes—half-lidded, smoldering, filled with unspoken yearning—held an intensity that set his heart ablaze.

rafe’s steps slowed as he approached the foot of your bed. his jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides as though he were trying to anchor himself, to restrain the wild tide of emotions surging within him. but the moment you reached out for him, all of his resolve crumbled.

“you’re here,” you whispered softly, your voice like a melody that seemed to soothe every wound he carried.

“i couldn’t stay away,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion as he sank onto the edge of the bed. he reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “you’re the most beautiful flower i’ve ever picked,” he murmured, his words carrying the weight of his reverence for you.

a soft blush bloomed across your cheeks, but you didn’t shy away from his touch. Instead, you reached for his hands, guiding them with deliberate slowness to the thin straps of your tank top. your eyes held his, unwavering and filled with trust, as you slid the straps down past your shoulders. the fabric fell just enough to reveal the delicate curve of your collarbone, and his breath hitched at the sight.

“i love you, rafe,” you whispered, the words barely audible but carrying the depth of your feelings. it was enough to unravel him completely.

his lips descended on yours with a softness that surprised you. there was no rush, no desperation—just the slow, deliberate melding of his mouth with yours. his hands cradled your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a passion that left you breathless, and yet it was tender, reverent, as though he were afraid of breaking you.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. his hands slipped down to your shoulders, tracing the bare skin there as though memorizing every curve and line.

“i’ve never felt anything like this before,” he admitted, his voice a soft murmur against your lips. “you’ve changed everything for me, you’re my light.”

you reached up to cup his face, your fingers threading through his golden hair. his lips found yours again, with more urgency, more need. his hands trailed down your arms, brushing over the straps of your tank top until they slipped further down, baring more of your skin to the cool night air. you shivered beneath his touch, but it wasn’t from the cold—it was the warmth of his hands, the way they ignited a fire within you that only he could soothe.

his kiss grew deeper, more possessive, as his hands found the straps of your tank top once more. with a gentle tug, he pulled it down, watching the way the silk slipped down your body, revealing your breasts to the moonlit room. rafe’s eyes darkened, and he took a moment to drink in the sight of you, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “my beautiful wife,” was all he could manage to utter.

you watched him, your eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and love. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, echoing the rhythm of the night outside. rafe’s hand slid up, cupping one of your breasts, his thumb flicking over the sensitive nipple. a soft moan escaped your lips, and he took that as his cue to lean down, capturing the peak in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tightened bud.

your hands found his robes, pulling at the material. the fabric was thick, but yielded easily to your insistent touch. rafe helped you, his own hands trembling with desire. you watch the robes slide off, revealing his bare chest, his muscles taut and warm. you ran your hands over his skin, feeling his heart pound in sync with yours, the heat of his body against your palms.

his kisses grew more frantic as he moved down your body, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbone. his hands found the waistband of your panties, and with a gentle tug, he pulled them down. you lifted your hips to assist, eager to feel the fullness of his touch. his kisses traveled lower, along your torso, until his mouth reached the juncture of your thighs. your breath caught as he kissed along the inner length of your thighs, teasing you, driving you wild with anticipation. finally, his mouth found the center of your desire, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that made your toes curl.

“rafe,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. “feels so good, ’s too much.”

when you thought you had reached the final state of nirvana too high to manage, rafe pressed a finger into you, curling it upwards and gently pumping in and out. “have to get you ready for me, yeah?” he murmured between pumping and licking. after a few pumps, he added another finger, keeping a steady rhythm with his tongue against your clit, his long fingers hitting the exact right spot again, and again, and again. your breath began hitching and the edges of an orgasm neared. rafe continued pumping into you, pushing her closer toward the edge, his tongue a warm, wet pressure guiding you through your first time.

finally, you felt yourself crest over the edge, your body spasming and shaking with pleasure. “oh, rafe,” you whispered, your eyes squeezed shut. when you opened them, you swore you could finally see your husband in his glory. he looked at you as if you were all that mattered, as if he would do anything—cross anyone—just for your sake. he looked at you, and only you, because you were all he could see.

his mouth pulled away from your center, and he looked up at you with a proud, smug smile. “good?”

you nodded, unable to form coherent words. “so good.”

his smile grew wider, and he sat back, pulling his fingers from you. he stood up and pulled his robes the rest of the way off, revealing just how much he really needed you, standing proud and ready. you couldn’t help but look away, despite it was being everything you dreamed of, in a terrifyingly intimidating way. just a few days ago, you were the senator, your priority was your people. now, you were about to make love in secret, with the man you had married in secret.

rafe frowned at the look on your face. “it’ll be okay,” he assured, his voice soothing. “i promise, it’ll be okay.” you nodded, still trying to catch your breath. he took your hand, rubbing reassuring circles into your skin with a warm smile. it was his way of telling you that everything was going to be okay, reminding you of the reason you’d married him in the first place. he leaned over and kissed you, deep and passionate. once again, his hands found yours and he interlocked your fingers, squeezing them tight as he positioned himself between your legs.

his cock hovered above your entrance, the tip glistening with precum. you could feel the warmth of him, the heat of his desire. “are you ready?” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

you nodded, your heart racing. “yes,” you breathed. “i’m ready.”

his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. finding none, he began to press himself into you, inch by agonizing inch. you bit your bottom lip to stifle a gasp as you felt yourself stretch around him. the pain was intense, but it was mixed with something else—a feeling of completeness, of finally being where you belonged. rafe’s eyes never left yours, his expression a mix of pleasure and pain, his teeth gritted as he pushed through the resistance of your virginity.

once he was fully sheathed, he stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation. “are you okay?” he couldn’t help but ask again, his voice strained with effort.

you nodded, feeling the tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. “yes,” you whispered. “don’t stop.”

he began to move, his hips rolling into you in a slow, steady rhythm that seemed to echo the heartbeat of the entire galaxy. you felt your body responding to him, tightening around him, drawing him in deeper with every stroke. the pain began to recede, replaced by something much more powerful—desire. being this close to you, this intimate—it was intoxicating.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him closer. rafe’s eyes closed, his head dropping to your shoulder as he began to thrust into you with more force. your moans grew louder, your body moving in perfect sync with his. it was as though you had been made for this, as though every cell in your body had been waiting for this moment. the room grew warmer, the air thick with passion and need. the smell of your arousal filled the air, mingling with the scent of his sweat, creating a heady aroma that only served to drive him wilder. he could feel himself getting closer to the edge, but he didn’t want it to end. not yet.

rafe’s hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit again. he began to rub in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his hips. your muscles tightened around him, your nails digging into his skin as you climbed closer to your peak. “rafe, rafe, rafe,” you chanted, your voice breathy and desperate, as if his name was the only thing on your mind. that was exactly how he wanted it to be.

his strokes grew quicker, more urgent, as he felt his own climax approaching. “i’m so close,” he murmured into your ear, his voice ragged with desire. he contemplated his choices, his eyes hazy with an unspoken wish that needed no words, you could see it in the way he looked at you. “can i—”

you nodded, your eyes squeezed shut, your body taut with anticipation. “yes, rafe. please.”

he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he felt his release building, the tension coiling in his belly as he held you close, almost as if he was afraid of losing you. he held you, his hips snapping against your flesh as he pumped in and out of you. finally, with a guttural groan, he came, his warmth filling you. he held still for a moment, his breaths hot against your neck as he enjoyed the feeling of your body clenching around him. you felt a strange sense of pride, knowing that you had brought this powerful man to such a vulnerable state.

you both laid there, panting, your bodies entwined as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you. his weight was comforting, grounding. you felt a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in a long time. the room was silent except for the sound of your hearts beating in unison. slowly, rafe pulled out of you, the stickiness of your combined releases a stark reminder of the intimate act you had just shared. he leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before rolling off the bed to grab a towel. he cleaned you up gently, wiping away any trace of himself from your body, treating you with a tenderness that was almost unbearable.

the galaxy stood on the precipice of change, the once-stalwart republic teetering under the weight of war. the clone wars raged on, leaving scars on planets and people alike. rafe, now a celebrated jedi knight, had become a war hero, hailed for his bravery and skill in battle. yet, beneath his stoic exterior, a storm brewed. the weight of his love for you, his clandestine wife, and the growing disillusionment with the jedi order were forces he could no longer ignore.

the council chambers of the jedi temple felt colder each day. rafe’s faith in the order had wavered. where once he had found guidance and purpose, he now encountered doubt and dismissal. his master, obi-wan, once a source of wisdom, now seemed more like an obstacle, a reminder of the life rafe could never fully embrace. in contrast, supreme chancellor palpatine had become a source of reassurance. his subtle praise and unyielding support had planted seeds of trust—and something darker—in rafe’s heart.

on a fateful mission, rafe infiltrated general rievous’s flagship to rescue chancellor palpatine, who had been “kidnapped” by the separatists. the mission was perilous, but rafe’s unparalleled determination saw them through. in the throne room of the ship, the two jedi confronted count dooku, the sith lord who had orchestrated much of the war.

lightsabers clashed in a symphony of sparks and fury, leaving rafe to face dooku alone. the duel was a blur of motion, rafe’s anger fueling his every strike. with a deft maneuver, he disarmed dooku, leaving the sith lord kneeling before him, defenseless.

“good, rafe,” palpatine said, his voice smooth and serpentine. “kill him. do it.”

he had hesitated, his lightsaber trembling in his grip. “he should stand trial,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

“trial?” palpatine scoffed. “he’s too dangerous to be kept alive. he’s the reason for this war, rafe. end it.”

dooku’s eyes widened, and for the first time, fear crossed his face. rafe looked into those eyes and saw not just an enemy, but a representation of every failure, every loss, every injustice he had endured. with a surge of anger, he ignited his blade, slashing it through dooku’s neck. the sith lord’s head fell to the floor, and with it, a piece of rafe’s soul.

the ship landed safely, and the republic hailed rafe as a hero. but his heart felt heavier than ever. he returned to you, seeking solace in the one person who could still bring him peace. you were waiting on the balcony of your apartment, the coruscant skyline glittering in the distance. the soft breeze carried the scent of the city, but it was the sight of you that arrested him. standing there, illuminated by the warm glow of the city lights, you were his sanctuary.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he approached, his voice heavy with emotion.

you turned, smiling softly. “it’s only because i’m so in love.”

he chuckled, his hands cupping your face. “no, it’s because i’m so in love with you.”

you kissed him, slow and tender, the world falling away. as you pulled back, you placed his hand gently on your abdomen. “rafe,” you began, your voice trembling with both excitement and fear, “i’m pregnant.”

his eyes widened, and for a moment, he was silent, his breath stolen by the enormity of your words. then, a brilliant smile spread across his face. “we’re going to have a child?” you nodded, tears welling in your eyes. he pulled you into his arms, holding you as though he could shield you from the galaxy itself. but as joy filled his heart, so too did a seed of fear.

the dreams began soon after. dark, haunting visions of you in pain, of your life slipping away as you brought their child into the world. each night, he woke in a cold sweat, the image of your lifeless body seared into his mind. the fear of losing you consumed him, driving him to the brink of obsession.

palpatine had noticed his turmoil and offered him a glimmer of hope. he spoke of darth plagueis, a sith lord who had unlocked the secrets of life and death. “there are ways to save those you love,” palpatine hinted, his words weaving a web around rafe’s fragile resolve. but the jedi council grew wary of palpatine’s influence. they tasked rafe with spying on the chancellor, a mission that stoked the fires of his anger. how could they ask him to betray the one man who had shown him unwavering support?

when rafe discovered that palpatine was darth sidious, the sith lord orchestrating the war, his world crumbled. he reported the revelation to the jedi council but found himself at a crossroads. could he truly turn his back on the man who held the key to saving you?

master mace windu confronted palpatine, seeking to end the sith threat once and for all. but as the battle unfolded, rafe’s desperation overtook him. he intervened, aiding palpatine in the fatal blow that ended windu’s life. it was anything but a rash decision—it was crucial. as a jedi, there was nothing he could do to fight fate, nothing he could say to stop you from falling into danger. it was going to be different, now. it was going to be different, because he had found a way to keep you safe.

“you have done well, my apprentice,” palpatine said, his voice a mixture of triumph and menace. “now, take your place at my side.”

broken and consumed by his fears, rafe knelt. “what is thy bidding, my master?”

sidious’s smile was cruel. “rise, darth vader.”

the galaxy descended into darkness as order 66 was executed. the jedi were hunted and slaughtered, their light extinguished in an instant. rafe, now darth vader, led the assault on the jedi temple, his heart hardened by the promises of power and salvation sidious had whispered to him. and yet, through it all, the memory of you lingered, a fragile thread of humanity he couldn’t sever. it was that thread that brought you to mustafar, tired, weak, and helplessly in love.

it had fallen into chaos. the republic, under a beacon of hope, was now crumbling under the weight of the newly declared galactic empire. you stood in the quiet of the imperial palace, trying to come to terms with the atrocities of the past days. the news had spread quickly, but still, your mind refused to accept what it meant. the jedi were dead—or so it seemed. yet, one name haunted you more than any other.

it was then that obi-wan arrived at your side. his expression was grave, eyes filled with the weight of countless losses.

“he’s gone,” obi-wan said, his voice low and steady, tinged with sorrow. “he’s strayed from the path of righteousness. he’s fallen.”

the words struck you like a blow to the chest. you had heard rumors, whispers among the few remaining jedi, but you refused to believe them. the man you loved, who had once vowed to fight for justice, could not have fallen to the darkness. he couldn’t have turned his back on everything he believed in, on you.

“you’re wrong, obi-wan,” you said, shaking your head, refusing to accept his words. “he would never do that.”

his face hardened, a shadow of regret crossing his features. “i wish i were wrong more than anything, but the truth is undeniable. the jedi are gone. you’ve seen the clones. the children. it’s all over.”

your heart pounded in your chest as his words settled in. the republic had fallen. the jedi had been exterminated. rafe—your rafe—was lost to the darkness, and the galaxy had been consumed by the rise of the sith. yet, even as the tears welled in your eyes, there was only one thought that consumed you.

“i have to find him,” you said urgently, as if somehow your voice alone could reverse everything that had happened. “he’s not lost. i know him, i can bring him back.”

obi-wan stepped forward, his gaze softening, but there was an air of helplessness in his eyes. “it’s too late. he has already pledged himself to sidious. there’s nothing you can do.”

“no,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i refuse to believe that.”

a long silence followed before obi-wan spoke again, his voice laced with pain. "he’s on mustafar. that’s where he’s been sent. i can’t—"

"you’ll come with me?" you asked, the words more of a plea than a request.

he hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “i will go, but not as a friend. i will go to stop him. to kill him, if necessary.”

you were already making your way to the transport shuttle before obi-wan could speak again. there was no time for hesitation now. you didn’t look back as the shuttle’s doors closed. you didn’t need to. your mind was set. you would find rafe, even if you had to tear the galaxy apart to do it.

meanwhile, obi-wan, understanding your determination, had no choice but to agree to travel with you. his reasons were not for your safety or your peace of mind, but for his own sense of duty. he knew the dangers that awaited them on mustafar, and that if rafe had truly turned, he would be forced to make an impossible decision. but that was a burden he had come to terms with long ago.

the stars flew by in a blur of lights as you descended into mustafar's fiery atmosphere. the molten rivers below flickered with a sinister glow, reflecting the burning hatred you felt rising in your chest. you had already promised yourself that no matter what, you would save him.

on coruscant, deep within the confines of the senate chambers, sidious had finally achieved his ultimate goal. the galactic republic, in an instant, had been transformed into an empire. the senate, once a symbol of the people's will, now bent the knee to its new emperor. the once-liberating democracy had been replaced by an authoritarian regime. the galaxy, torn by war, now had only one ruler—the sith lord, darth sidious.

the jedi’s greatest enemy, the embodiment of their worst fears, had taken full control of the galaxy. and yet, the fight was far from over. the jedi had not given up. yoda remained, standing alone in his defiance. his presence in the senate was a signal of the final struggle. sidious’s dark eyes met yoda’s as the two old foes stood across from one another, poised for their ultimate confrontation.

“you have lost, yoda,” sidious taunted, his voice cold, laced with a sadistic satisfaction. “the republic is mine, and you are but a relic of the past. it is time for you to join your fallen brethren.”

yoda, frail but resolute, held his lightsaber in a firm grip. “too late, it is. a new order, this galaxy shall know. dark your vision, sidious. the light, it will endure.”

the two charged, clashing with an intensity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the senate. sidious’s power was unparalleled, his dark side knowledge vast. yoda, despite his age, matched him strike for strike, his wisdom and mastery of the force making him a formidable opponent. but as the battle raged on, it became clear that sidious’s hold on the galaxy had become too strong.

the clash continued, the power of the dark side and the light intertwined in a desperate struggle. sidious fought with every ounce of energy he had, but yoda’s ancient strength was waning. his spirit, though unwavering, could not match the overwhelming force that sidious had unleashed.

in the end, yoda was defeated. but not before he had forced sidious to acknowledge the true strength of the jedi—resilience, hope, and belief in the light. as sidious declared his victory, yoda, with the last of his strength, slipped away into exile. his failure was painful, but not absolute. the fire of the Jedi had been dimmed, but it had not been extinguished. the last remaining hope had fled. the galaxy was now fully under sidious’s control. and the road to mustafar, to rafe, was one you would have to walk alone.

you found him standing at the edge of a molten river, his figure silhouetted against the hellish glow of mustafar’s fiery landscape. the harsh winds blew his dark hair back, and for a moment, he looked like a vision from a nightmare, the red light casting an almost otherworldly aura around him. rafe. your rafe. but so different now.

a surge of emotions flooded your chest as you ran toward him, your heart racing, hands trembling. you couldn’t help it. you needed him. you had to make him see the light, to make him remember the man he once was. you reached him, throwing your arms around him, the warmth of his body so much like the comfort you remembered. “what are you doing out here?” he whispered, his voice shaking with fear and longing. “i was so worried about you,” you admitted.

he didn’t return the embrace, standing stiff in your arms. his cold gaze met yours as he stepped back slightly, his expression unreadable. “obi-wan told me terrible things,” you continued, your voice trembling as you held onto the last thread of hope.

“what things?” his voice was flat, emotionless, but the flicker in his eyes told you that he already knew what was coming.

you swallowed hard, unable to contain the hurt. “he said you’ve turned to the dark side. that you—killed younglings.”

for a moment, there was silence. rafe's eyes darkened, the flicker of something dangerous stirring within him. he slowly shook his head, his lips curling into a sneer. “obi-wan is trying to turn you against me,” he said, the words thick with venom. the coldness in his voice cut deeper than anything you had ever felt from him.

you shook your head, stepping closer, desperate to bridge the gap between you. “he cares about us,” you said softly, your voice cracking with emotion. “he wants to help, rafe.”

he looked at you with something unreadable in his eyes. then, his gaze hardened. “us?” he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief, as if the very idea of it was foreign to him now. “you don’t understand. you don’t know what i’ve become.”

the cold, calculating stare he gave you made your heart twist with pain. this wasn’t the man you married. you could still see glimpses of him in the shadows of his expression, but it was slowly being drowned out by the dark power he had embraced. “rafe, please,” you begged. “all i want is your love.”

“love won’t save you,” he continued, his tone unwavering, “only my new powers can do that.”

you shook your head violently, a sob catching in your throat. “at what cost?” you asked, the words thick with desperation. “you’re a good person, rafe. don’t do this. please.” you took a step forward, reaching for him, but he stepped back, avoiding your touch.

“i won’t lose you the way i lost my mother,” he said, his voice hardening with a rawness that almost sounded like grief. “i’m becoming more powerful than any jedi has ever dreamed of, and i’m doing it for you. to protect you.”

tears welled in your eyes, your heart aching as you tried to make him understand. “rafe, please,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper. “come away with me. help me raise our child. leave everything behind while we still can.” you could feel the weight of the galaxy pressing down on you, the unbearable knowledge that if you didn’t make him listen now, you might lose him forever.

his eyes hardened, the flicker of humanity in his gaze extinguished by the cold darkness that had taken root. “we don’t have to run anymore,” he said, his voice low and full of conviction. “i have brought peace to the republic. i am more powerful than the chancellor, i can overthrow him. and together, you and i can rule the galaxy.”

you stared at him, disbelief coursing through your veins. “i can’t believe this,” you whispered. “obi-wan was right.”

your words hung in the air between you, a brutal truth neither of you could escape. his anger was evident, running down the river of change that flooded his body. “i don’t want to hear any more about obi-wan,” he practically hissed. “the jedi turned against me—don’t you turn against me.”

“you’re breaking my heart, rafe,” you whispered, choking on the pain. “you’re going down a path i can’t follow.”

“because of obi-wan?”

“because of what you’ve done, what you plan to do.”

he stood there, the cruel shadows of his new self tainting the once warm look he had given you. “i love you,” you whispered through your tears, but it was hollow. the words no longer held the weight they once did, no matter how much you meant it.

rafe shook his head, his empty gaze holding onto tears that threatened to spill over. “liar!” he shouted, the anguish in his voice more than you could bear.

his face twisted into something darker, more feral. before you could even react, his hand shot out, his powers grabbing you by the throat, the force of them tightening with unnatural strength. your breath caught in your chest as the world seemed to spin around you. his eyes burned with an intensity that terrified you.

“you’re with him!” he continued, his voice colder than the darkest of nights. “you brought him here to kill me.”

your vision blurred, stars flickering at the edges of your sight as you struggled to breathe, struggling to break free from his grip. his power, his rage—it overwhelmed you. your limbs went limp, and the last thing you remembered before darkness swallowed you was the cruel look in his eyes, the man you loved no longer in control of the body he had once inhabited.

obi-wan’s voice was steady, but it trembled with the weight of years of love and friendship—of a bond that was being shattered before his very eyes. he stepped forward, his lightsaber igniting with a soft hum as it bathed the surrounding darkness in its blue glow. “let her go, rafe,” he said, his voice soft but firm, like a plea and a command all at once. “let her go.”

rafe froze for a moment, his powers tightening around your throat. his eyes flickered from you to obi-wan, the anger swirling in his gaze turning into something colder, something more dangerous. “you turned her against me!” his voice cracked, desperation slipping through his words like poison.

obi-wan’s expression hardened, but there was an undeniable sorrow in his eyes. “you have done that yourself,” he said, his words cutting deeper than any blade. he took a step closer, his lightsaber held steady, but his demeanor was not one of attack—it was one of heartbreaking disappointment.

rafe staggered back, his chest heaving as if struggling to comprehend the enormity of obi-wan’s words. “you will not take her from me,” he spat, the words thick with rage, his grip on your throat tightening further.

“you’ve already lost her,” obi-wan replied, his voice heavy with sorrow. “your anger and your lust for power have already done that.”

the words hung between them, thick and suffocating. rafe’s hands twitched, and his eyes narrowed in disbelief, as if he couldn’t fathom what he was hearing. obi-wan’s expression softened, but the sadness in his eyes deepened. “you’ve allowed this dark lord to twist your mind,” he said, his voice quiet, almost mournful. “until now. until now, you’ve become the very thing you swore to destroy.”

rafe’s face twisted in fury. his grip on your neck tightened, and you gasped for air, vision flickering. he looked at obi-wan as though seeing his former master for the first time—disillusionment and rage warring in his eyes. “i am becoming more powerful than you could ever understand,” he snarled. “this is the future. this is the only way.”

obi-wan took a deep breath, but the heartbreak was evident in the lines of his face. his lightsaber remained steady in his grip, though he hesitated. the moment stretched between them like a chasm that neither could bridge, the final threads of their bond fraying. his voice came again, quieter now, almost a whisper. “you were the chosen one,” he murmured, his eyes clouded with unspeakable grief. “you were supposed to bring balance to the force, not leave it in darkness.”

rafe’s expression flickered, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though something—some shred of the man he used to be—flickered behind his eyes. but then, the darkness overtook it, and with a growl of fury, he ignited his own lightsaber. the clash of their weapons was deafening, a blinding flash of light that reflected the violence inside them both.

rafe moved with a speed and power his master had never seen in him before—his strikes were wild, full of rage and desperate need to prove something. obi-wan’s movements, however, were measured, controlled—though each strike, each parry was laced with the sorrow of knowing what was slipping away.

“rafe,” obi-wan whispered, narrowly dodging a strike aimed at his head. “please, listen to me.”

but rafe only grew more erratic, more dangerous. each attack was fueled by his anger, his pain—the feeling of losing you, of losing himself. obi-wan's heart broke with each swing of his saber, each dodge, each moment that he tried to reason with the man who had once been his apprentice.

the lava pit raged behind them, bubbling and churning as if in anticipation of what was to come. obi-wan fought desperately to keep his former apprentice from falling into that abyss—not just physically, but spiritually.

but the anger in rafe’s eyes was beyond reason, beyond compassion. it was a wild thing, uncontrollable and destructive, and it fed into everything he did. with a final, powerful swing, rafe sent him tumbling backwards, his lightsaber flashing, and obi-wan, with a grace borne of years of painful experience, parried the strike.

“rafe,” obi-wan whispered, his voice filled with grief, a lump in his throat. “i loved you.”

the battle was a blur of light and movement, the two combatants circling each other, their sabers flashing in the intense heat of mustafar’s volcanoes. but it was clear that obi-wan was tiring, and rafe was only becoming more vicious, more relentless.

then, with one final strike, obi-wan moved with precision. he ducked under rafe’s wild blow and, with one swift motion, sent him tumbling toward the edge of the molten pit. time seemed to slow as rafe fell, his body twisting in midair, his scream echoing in the cavernous silence before he was consumed by the flames. obi-wan’s heart shattered in that moment. he had lost his brother. he had lost the one he had once hoped would bring balance to the force. he had failed.

“you were the chosen one,” he whispered again, the tears slipping down his face despite himself.

the hum of the ship was the only sound that filled the air as obi-wan piloted through the blackness of space, the stars too distant to offer any comfort. the journey back to the medical center felt endless. his mind raced with the weight of what had just transpired—rafe, gone. the bond he’d once shared with him severed, leaving nothing but pain and an unforgiving silence in its wake. he glanced over at you, still unconscious, your face pale and drawn, your breath shallow as if it were an effort to even draw air into your lungs.

his heart ached, a new, deeper kind of grief taking root within him. he had failed you, failed rafe, and failed himself. there was nothing left but this mission—this final task—to get you to safety. the fate of the galaxy weighed heavily on his shoulders, but in this moment, all that mattered was you.

as they neared the medical center, obi-wan’s grip tightened on the ship’s controls. he landed with a jolt, immediately springing into action as he rushed to carry you inside. the doors slid open, revealing the medical droids awaiting your arrival. they took you from his arms, quickly transferring you to a bed where they began monitoring your vitals. the air was thick with the metallic hum of their mechanical voices.

“medically, she’s completely healthy,” one of the droids reported, its mechanical voice eerily detached. “but we are losing her for reasons we can’t explain.”

obi-wan froze, his chest tightening. “losing her?” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, strained with disbelief.

“she has lost the will to live,” the droid replied, its tone clinical. “it is remarkable. her body functions, but mentally, emotionally, she has abandoned everything.”

obi-wan’s heart stuttered, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “she’s dying?” he asked, the words escaping him in a rush.

“she has given up, master jedi. she seeks peace, and her soul has begun to depart.”

obi-wan stared at you, his eyes wide and filled with unspeakable grief. he had seen death in all its forms before, but this—this was something different. you were alive, but you were gone. you had chosen to retreat from the world, to leave everything behind. his throat tightened, and he had to look away, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

somewhere, deep within you, in the fragile place between life and death, your mind reached for something, a warmth that beckoned you. you could still think, your blood could still flow, your lungs still moved—yet there was nothing left. your heart had stopped long before your body did. it had broken.

what was the point of continuing when the very core of you had shattered? there was no peace in this world anymore, no reason to go on when everything you had fought for felt so fleeting. so, you reached for the light—the peace that called to you, beckoning you like a familiar voice. your body might have stayed behind, but your soul had made its decision.

the sharp, sudden pain broke through your thoughts, making you gasp. you could feel it, sharp and intense—the pull of life, the unbearable weight of it. and then the scream tore from your throat, raw and desperate, as the first of your children entered the world.

obi-wan’s hands shook as he held your son. the small, fragile form, covered in fluid, squirmed in his arms, its cries piercing the sterile air. he looked down at the child with a look of overwhelming sadness and tenderness, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. he thought of rafe, of everything that had been lost, of the galaxy that had slipped into darkness—and now, this child, a new life, a new hope in a world drowning in despair.

he stood there, trembling, as the second child was born—a girl. he took her in his arms as well, gazing down at her with the same awe and sorrow, knowing the weight they would one day bear. you lay there, exhausted, broken, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

through the haze of pain, through the darkness that seemed to be pulling you under, you whispered. “there’s good in him,” it was barely audible. “i know there is—still—”

obi-wan’s heart clenched at the words, his chest tightening with the love you had for the man who had fallen. he looked down at the twins, the hope in your voice echoing in his heart, though it was bittersweet. he believed it, too. somewhere within rafe, there had still been light, still been love. and maybe, just maybe, it would survive within these children.

the monitors beside you beeped erratically, the sound cutting through the quiet. obi-wan turned his gaze to the screen, his heart sinking as he saw the monitor flicker and die. he didn’t need to look again to know. you had passed. but before the life left your body entirely, you bore the gift of new life. the crying of the twins filled the room, and obi-wan stood motionless, cradling them, his eyes full of tears as he watched you—his heart torn between mourning your loss and marveling at the life you had given.

the quiet finality of it settled over him like a heavy weight. the galaxy was no longer the same. the battle for it was far from over, but in that moment, in the silence that followed, he felt the heavy burden of a different kind of loss—the loss of you, the woman he had come to see as a light in a dying world. and as your soul reached for peace, the children you had given birth to would carry on the hope you had always believed in. the cycle would continue, even if the galaxy seemed lost.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: writing this like the ending was gonna change or sum 😭😭😭 gtfo

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