#but it turned out to be a way to make steady money to support his grandpa

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[sugoroo]

TRADING CARDS!

summary: in which toji’s in need of some cash, and you’re in need of having your cherry popped! he’ll take your v card if you lend him your credit card. simple, right?

warnings: fem!reader, penetration (p in v), breast play, tummy bulge, squirting, loss of virginity (reader), fingering, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader just finished college), tojis a bit of a perv, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.2k

"hey, doll?" toji grunts as he pokes his head into your room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he shoots you a slightly apologetic grin. "i'm gonna need ya to cover my half of the rent again this month."

you look up from your phone, your lips pulling down into a small frown at his words. this isn't the first time this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last, either. "seriously, toji?"

toji simply gives you a noncommittal shrug in response, turning the pockets of his sweatpants inside out as if to further prove his point — there wasn't a single cent in sight. "i ain't got nothin', sweets. hardly been able to buy food these last few days."

you roll your eyes, letting out a soft huff at his not-so-subtle attempt to make you feel bad for him (which almost always worked, and he knew it.) "fine. but you better come through next month. i can't keep covering you."

he lets out a sigh of relief, reaching out to ruffle your hair with one his large hands. "yeah yeah, i'll pay up next time. promise." he was lying through his teeth, and you both knew it. but you chose not to comment on it — maybe a small part of you wanted to keep toji as your roommate, even if you had to pay his rent half the time.

toji heads back out into the living room to lazily slump across the couch, leaving you to your own thoughts.

it was really starting to grate on your nerves how much you had to support him. he's a fully grown man, and you're a young girl fresh out of college. and yet, somehow, you ended up being the one paying his bills with the leftover money from your summer job.

and maybe it wouldn't bother you so much, if you weren't so constantly pent up.

college was supposed to be your time to shine, where you'd attend countless parties and have meaningless hookups with guys in bathrooms, just like all the movies you watched when you were younger.

but it wasn't really like that. and as much as you loathe to admit it, you're still a virgin. with only your own feeble fingers to keep you company, you can probably count on one hand the amount of orgasms you've had in your life.

and that's when you have an idea.

it's just like trading cards — toji takes your v card, and in return, you lend him your credit card.

it's shameless, and you might've felt embarrassed with yourself for even coming up with it if you weren't in dire need of releasing some tension.

and if toji's as desperate for money as he makes out like he is, maybe he wouldn't mind agreeing to your little proposition.

the only catch in your genius idea is that you actually have to ask toji about it.

you've been lingering outside his bedroom door for what feels like hours, trying to figure out how to actually phrase your proposal without making a complete fool of yourself.

but just as you timidly raise a fist to knock, the door swings open, and toji walks right into you, causing you to collide face first with his toned chest. you barely register the two strong hands that rest over your shoulders to steady you, your mind suddenly laser focused on the way your cheek is squished between his pecs.

"oops. sorry, doll," toji chuckles heartily, moving one of his hands from your shoulder to gently grasp your hair and pull your now noticeably flushed face away from his chest. "didn't see ya there."

"n-no, it's my fault." you manage to stammer out, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain your composure. shit, you hadn't even asked him yet, and you were already a mess.

he raises a thick eyebrow at your skittish demeanour, his hand leaving your hair to teasingly poke at one of your adorably pink cheeks. "aww, what's this? you blushin'?"

you try and shoot him a glare, but it looks more like a pout than anything else as you meekly swat his hand away from your face. "shut up, toji. you're the one who walked right into me."

he lets out a deep, amused chortle at this, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at you with a lazy smirk. "right. and you're the one who was lingering outside my door like a creeper."

you let out an embarrassed huff at his rebuttal, knowing there's no way to deny it now. you take another deep breath, idly wringing your hands as you crane your neck to look up at him. "yeah. about that. i, um, i wanted to ask you something."

toji cocks his head to the side, his expression turning mildly curious. "oh? what could you possibly want to ask this old man, hm?" he grunts, your little nervous fidgets not going unnoticed by him.

"w-well, i, um..." you begin, your features twisting up into a grimace as you struggle to get the words out. damn it, you were already cursing your past self for thinking this was a good idea. "i have a proposition for you."

this seems to pique the dark-haired man's interest, and he straightens his back slightly, reaching up with a large hand to scratch his chin. "what kind of proposition are we talkin', sweets?"

you swallow thickly at the way he puts such emphasis on the word proposition, as if he already knows exactly what you're thinking. but of course he doesn't — how could he?

"the kind of proposition where i lend you my credit card to help with your little... money problem," you begin, fighting to keep your voice as steady as possible. "and in return, you..."

toji's eyebrows raise even higher at your words, and he lets out a grunt of irritation when you trail off at the end of your sentence. "in return i what? use your words, doll."

"and in return, you..." you repeat quietly, your voice becoming consistently quieter until the last few words come out as a mere whisper. "help me lose my virginity."

the silence that follows your words is absolutely deafening, the only noise being the faint sounds of cars passing by the road outside the apartment.

you immediately start thinking of ways to salvage the situation, maybe just laugh it off and say it was a prank or something. it's a flimsy excuse, but it's better than this painful silence.

just as you open your mouth in an attempt to backtrack, toji grasps your chin in one large hand, effectively shutting you up with the movement. "you're a damn virgin?" he rasps out, turning your flushed face from side to side as if examining it would help him find the answer.

"u-uh, yeah," you mutter sheepishly, shrinking in on yourself slightly under the sudden intensity of his gaze. "why do you sound so surprised?"

toji barks out an almost incredulous laugh, as if you were utterly ridiculous for even asking such a thing. "seriously?" he huffs, shaking his head. "you're a fine little thing. figured ya would've had guys linin' up around the block for ya at college."

your eyes widen almost comically at his words, your mouth opening and closing a few times as you try to form a coherent response. you never expected your considerably older, rough around the edges roommate to actually find you attractive. "i-is that a yes, then?"

he scoffs loudly at this, repeating your words back to you in a mocking tone. "how the hell do ya expect me to say no to that?" he mutters, the pad of his thumb skimming across your jaw. "i've done worse deals for a whole lot less."

you let out a long sigh of relief, some of the tension leaving your shoulders at his agreement. the hardest part was out the way — you'd managed to get him on board.

"hey." toji grunts, his hand on your chin squeezing hard enough to get your attention as he angles it higher, tearing you from your thoughts. "look at me when we're talkin', girl."

your eyes widen even further at his sudden commanding tone, your thighs instinctively pressing together slightly beneath your skirt. the reaction doesn't go unnoticed by toji, but he doesn't comment on it, simply filing the information away for later.

"ya sure this is what y'want, sweets?" toji asks, his voice barely above a low mutter as he leans his head down closer to your level, his hot breaths just barely puffing across your face as he seemingly searches for any signs of hesitance. "once it's done there ain't no goin' back."

"i... i know." you gulp, vaguely aware of the way his dark eyes follow the gentle bobbing of your throat. "i wouldn't have asked if i didn't want this."

he hums, appearing satisfied with your answer. his thumb moves from your jaw to the plump skin of your lower lip, pulling it down slightly before letting it snap back into place. "how long do i get ya credit card for?"

"how long?" you repeat, blinking a few times. you hadn't even thought about that. and it was becoming quite hard to focus with the way he was toying with your lip. "um... twenty four hours."

toji grunts in acknowledgement, but his lips start to spread into a mischievous grin, and you can tell he's not going to make this easy for you. "nah. forty eight."

you let out an indignant huff, your eyes narrowing at the audacity of this man. two whole days? he was probably planning on bankrupting you at this rate. "thirty six." you counter.

he lets out a hearty laugh, his chest visibly rumbling with amusement at your haggling. his thumb traces over your lip again, causing you to let out a shuddering breath. "mm. ya got y'erself a deal there, dollface."

"good." you mutter, reaching out a hand towards him in a gesture of sealing the deal. toji takes it, his large hand entirely enveloping yours as he gives it a brisk shake.

before you can even think of saying anything else, toji uses his grip on your hand to tug you closer to his chest, your face almost colliding with his torso again.

"i'm assumin' you've atleast kissed before?" toji muses, this thumb still tracing the contour of your lips as if that would answer his question.

you let out a small, embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of your neck as you find yourself avoiding his gaze again. "yeah, i have."

toji tuts, yanking your chin back up again, more forcibly this time. "jesus, girl. what did i say about keeping your eyes on me?" he grumbles. "and whatcha laughin' for? i say somethin' funny?"

"sorry." you huff, your lips pushing out into an involuntary pout. "i'm not laughing because of you. it was just a really... bad kiss."

he hums in response, tilting his head to the side as his grin morphs into a small smirk. "damn. a virgin and you've never even had a good kiss. i got my work cut out for me here."

you try and shoot him another glare, a huff of exasperation leaving your lips. "no need to rub it in, toji. i'm paying you for this, remember?"

toji barks out an amused chuckle, shaking his head at your little attempts to try and look stern. cute. "yeah yeah, i know ya are. and don't worry, ya won't regret it."

you're about to open your mouth to retort, but before a single syllable can leave your mouth, toji's lips are on yours. they're rough and slightly chapped as they brush over your own, just the texture you would've expected them to be if you had to guess.

it's not a rough kiss, but it's not exactly gentle either. it's somewhere in the middle, somewhere that makes you think even the way toji kisses is just so... toji.

he pulls away after a few moments, letting out a soft huff of laughter at your dazed expression. "you still in there, sweets?" he hums, flicking his thumb against your forehead.

you can feel the way your cheeks flush darker at his taunting words, silently cursing yourself for getting so worked up over a simple kiss. damn it, it was so obvious just how touch starved you were. how were you going to make it through this?

"i'm still here." you grumble under your breath, causing toji to chuckle even harder. "and if you're just gonna keep laughing at me, maybe i'll go ask someone else to help me."

toji's chuckle turns into a bark of laughter, and his lips curve up into a smug grin as he flicks your forehead again. "no can do. we already shook on it. handshake's sacred, dollface. dontcha know?"

"ugh. you just made that—" you attempt to argue, but he shuts you up by pressing his lips back onto yours again, slightly rougher this time. you let out a sound of surprise against his mouth when his scar brushes against your skin, but slowly, you start to reciprocate the gesture.

he lets out a satisfied hum, starting to take a few steps backwards through the doorway of his room, his lips still moving against yours all the way.

you angle your face up to unknowingly chase after his lips when he pulls away, and you have to swallow down the embarrassing sound that threatens to escape you when you realize what you're doing.

toji snorts, shutting the door behind the two of you with a stupidly self-satisfied smirk stretching across his lips. "that attached to me already, huh? we only just started."

"i'm not attached." you scoff meekly, though your actions severely contradict your words as you lean up on your tiptoes in the search of another kiss.

"mhm. whatever y'say, girl." he mutters amusedly, his hand snaking under your chin again to help you reach his mouth. he meets you halfway, his kisses growing slowly more insistent as his tongue flickers out to swipe over your lower lip.

a soft gasp escapes your lips at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle asking for entrance into your mouth, but you comply, parting your lips to allow the intrusion.

he lets out a satisfied grunt, his tongue darting every which way as it expertly explores the warm cavern of your mouth. you just stand there, completely stock still, for a long few seconds before your own tongue starts to meekly lick against his.

"yeah, there we go," toji mutters into your mouth, his thick tongue easily enveloping yours as he rolls them together. he's so effortless with it, like this is second nature for him — you suppose it probably is. you're not oblivious to the amount of hookups he brings back to the apartment when he thinks you're asleep.

toji pulls back from your mouth with a lewd pop! once he registers that you need some air, observing the way your chest rapidly rises and falls like you can't get enough oxygen with silent amusement.

he's going to have such fun pulling more of these pretty reactions from you.

while you're still desperately trying to catch your breath, he slides both of his rough, calloused palms under the fabric of your shirt, his hands leaving a tingling trail of heat across your skin.

"wait—" you begin to protest, but whatever you were going to say trails off once you feel his fingers brush against the underside of your breasts.

he lets out a grunt of surprise, raising his bushy eyebrows. "no bra, doll?" toji scoffs, shaking his head. "you were ready for this, weren't ya?

your cheeks flood with embarrassment for the nth time this evening, and you feel the sudden urge to just shove his hands away and go back to your room to get yourself off with your feeble fingers. but you don't.

toji lets out yet another snort of laughter at your reaction, rolling his eyes. "i ain't sayin' it's a bad thing, girl," he mumbles, moving his hands to cup each of your breasts in his wide palms. "makes things easier for me. i like it."

you let out a small huff of relief at his sort-of-creepy reassurance, unable to fight the way your body instinctively leans into his touch, pressing your chest into his hands slightly.

he hums, removing his hands only to push your shirt up to get a look at your bare breasts, the fabric bunching up around your collarbone as he leans in closer to inspect your assets.

"toji!" you gasp in complaint, trying to push down the instinct to cover yourself up from your roommate's intense gaze. but when your hands fly up to guard your chest, he instantly grabs your wrists, making you freeze.

"ah ah," he chides with a smug smirk, easily moving both of your wrists into one hand while the other reaches out to fondle your breasts. "no need to be shy. ya got a nice pair of juicy tits right here."

his compliment is so lewd, and even with the way you attempt to wriggle your wrists free from his grip, he effortlessly keeps them trapped with one strong hand.

toji squeezes and kneads the supple flesh of your breasts, laving both with equal attention as he feels up every inch of skin available to him. he can't believe his little roommate has been hiding these pretty tits from him all this time.

when he leans down to pop one into his mouth, you let out a strangled gasp which quickly morphs into an almost pornographic moan when he starts to gently suckle at your highly sensitive nipple.

"shit." you manage to push out, your breaths becoming increasingly more erratic as he starts to flick his rough tongue over your perked bud. you can feel rather than hear the raspy chuckle he lets out at your reaction.

"so damn sensitive," toji rumbles as he pulls back from your breast, which is now shiny and slick with his salvia, before moving to the other. "y'like that, huh?"

it takes you a few moments to form a coherent response, your mind suddenly feeling unable to focus on anything other than the way he's practically making out with your chest. "y-yeah."

toji's smirk widens in a grin at your stammered words, clearly finding enjoyment in the way your body is reacting to his every touch. "bet ya do. poor thing, graduated college and still never been properly touched."

you let out an indignant huff, annoyance momentarily taking over your pleasure. damn it, why did he always have to mock you at any given opportunity? you're starting to wish you never told him about your virginity.

he snorts again at your huff, removing his mouth from your breast with a long, stringy trail of salvia connecting his lips to your chest. "whatcha huffin' for, girl? thought ya wanted this."

you shoot him another one of your trying-to-be-stern-but-really-just-pouting glares. "i do want this. but i also want you to stop laughing at me the entire time."

he rolls his eyes dramatically, acting as if not laughing at your expense was the most difficult thing he'd been asked to do today. "i'm not laughin' at you, dollface. i'm laughin' at those stupid ass college boys who missed out on having you like this."

before you can even begin to process his words, toji crowds you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you instinctively plop down onto the mattress, looking up at him with wide eyes.

he snickers at your shocked expression, moving forward to stand between your legs. from this position, he towers over you even more than usual, and you have to crane your neck practically all the way back to meet his eyes.

"why so surprised, hmm?" toji drawls, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear in an uncharacteristically gentle touch. "y'think i didn't notice how pretty ya were the first damn day ya moved in?"

you open and close your mouth a few times before managing to pull yourself together enough to speak. "honestly? i kinda figured you didn't pay me much attention — considering how many hookups you bring around here."

he hums in response, moving his hand to grasp your chin and force you to maintain eye contact with him. "so you noticed that, huh?" he grunts, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "they're just distractions, really. i've wanted you for a while, but i assumed ya wouldn't be interested in and old man like me."

you can only raise an eyebrow incredulously at his words, as if he'd just said something ridiculous. "toji, you're so dramatic. you're not that old."

he barks out a loud laugh at this, slowly lowering himself to his knees between your legs. the audible sound of his muscles protesting the movement seems to disprove your words, making you wince. "no need to flatter me, sweets. i know 'm old." he mutters, his smirk still firmly in place.

you open your mouth to argue, but quickly forget whatever you were about to say when toji's large palms start to trail up your thighs, stopping just below the edge of your skirt.

"ya got no panties on too?" he asks teasingly, although you can hear the faint sense of actual curiosity in his tone. however, when his fingers graze against the edge of your lace panties, he huffs. "hmph. you disappoint me."

you roll your eyes at his words. you would've gone pantyless too, but unfortunately the prospect of finally losing your virginity made you so wet that you had to wear them to prevent yourself from dripping on the floor of the apartment.

"you've touched yourself before, i take it?" toji grunts as his hand moves to easily cup your clothed pussy in his palm, his smirk becoming a grin again when he feels how damp the material is.

you suck in a sharp breath, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at the feel of someone else's hand except your own touching your most sensitive area. "y-yeah, i have. but it's..."

toji seems to understand why you trailed off, letting out a hum of acknowledgement as his fingers start to rub little circles against your panties. "but your little fingers can't make you cum right, yeah?"

you can only manage a feeble nod, fighting the urge to start grinding yourself into his hand. he chuckles amusedly at your reaction, his fingers just dipping under the edge of your panties but not quite.

if you were one of his usual hookups, he'd probably be balls deep inside you by now. but you're not — you're his pretty little roommate he's had his eye on for a while, and on top of that, you're a virgin.

he's going to take his sweet time with you.

toji spends what feels like an eternity teasing you through your underwear until you're squirming restless on the edge of his bed before he finally, finally makes direct contact with your pussy.

"shit," he grunts as he swipes his finger through your sopping folds, the digit practically slipping across your slick skin. "you're so damn wet, baby. i've hardly even touched you yet."

you can't stop the pathetic whine that escapes your throat, your cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink and your eyes half-lidded with need as you look down at him. "please, toji."

fucking hell. he actually has to restrain himself from just pouncing on you right there and then when you beg him so sweetly. instead, he lets out a raspy chuckle, his finger moving down to lazily circle your dripping entrance. "please what, girl? use your words."

"please..." you say again, your voice breathless as you wriggle your hips slightly underneath his hand. "touch me properly."

toji snorts at your phrasing, shaking his head. but before another retort can leave his lips, he's rendered speechless for a moment when he slides a finger into your entrance, your gummy walls instantly sucking him in.

"jesus," he mutters hoarsely, yanking your panties to the side with his other hand to get an unobstructed view of the way your little pussy flutters around his finger. "what a pretty fuckin' cunt."

you let out what can only be described as a mewl at his words, and the noise sounds foreign to your own ears. god, what is he doing to you?

he groans low in his throat at the sound you make, moving his finger around inside of you as gently as he can and brushing the thick digit against your spongy walls.

it should be illegal, really, how quickly toji manages to find your sweet spot. he's had a single finger inside your pussy for just under a minute, and the calloused pad of his digit is already grazing your sensitive g spot.

"ah!" you practically sob, your thighs instinctively clenching around his beefy arm. you've never felt such an intense spark of pleasure before — it's obvious you never managed to find that spot before when you attempted to get yourself off.

he grins smugly, brushing his finger over the spot again, almost touching it but not quite enough to properly stimulate you. "that's the spot, ain't it, dollface?" the question is rhetorical. you both know that's the spot.

but before you can start grinding yourself down onto his finger, he abruptly pulls it out, admiring the way the digit is now coated in your shiny slick.

you open your mouth to protest, or beg for more, or something, but all rational thoughts leave your mind when you see toji slip his finger into his mouth, sucking your juices from it with a low grunt.

"damn, that's good," he mutters gruffly, almost to himself, as he slides it out of his mouth with a lewd pop! — his eyes then fall back on your glistening pussy, his pupils dilated considerably more than before.

in a matter of moments, toji's slid your ruined panties down your legs, admiring the sticky mess soiled there before shamelessly shoving them in his pocket of his sweatpants.

"hey!—" you huff half-heartedly, but before you can even think of finishing the sentence, toji's chapped lips are placing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses up your thighs.

"mmph," you moan softly, not bothering to protest as he slides your thighs further apart with his palms, his lips nibbling against the supple skin of your inner thighs, undoubtably leaving small marks that will bloom tomorrow.

"wanna eat you," toji murmurs once he's face to face with your pussy, his hot breaths puffing across your sensitive skin and visibly making your little clit twitch impatiently. "can i eat you, dollface?"

you crease your eyebrows a little in confusion at his request. from what you'd heard from your college friends, guys hated performing oral for girls. but the way toji was staring hungrily at your cunt, his tongue swiping across his dry lips, made you think he would simply laugh at you again if you told him that.

"o-okay," you mutter sheepishly. and the second the agreement leaves your lips, toji's burying his entire face against your heat, groaning into your pussy as he rubs his sharp nose up and down your sopping folds.

when he first slides his rough tongue across your sensitive skin, you swear you go cross-eyed for a full moment before regaining control of yourself. it's like nothing you've ever felt before, wet and warm and so deliciously lewd.

"fuckin' sweeter than candy," toji grunts against your skin, the vibrations causing your body to instinctively attempt to wriggle away. but he's not having it, his beefy arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you in place. "ah ah, no runnin', baby."

while before you might've tried to argue a little in protest, your brain has already turned to mush from just his finger and his tongue, so you can only let out a few unintelligible murmurs.

"yeahhh," he snorts as he continues to sloppily lap at your folds, gathering as much of your syrupy slick on his tastebuds as possible. "don't hear none of that backtalk now."

god, he's so messy with it. you can hardly manage to keep your eyes open to gaze at him, but when you do, it only makes your pleasure heighten to new levels.

you've never seen your roommate so focused on anything before — not even those storage wars shows he likes to shout at on the tv. his eyes are half-lidded, his thick fingers are digging into your thighs so hard you can visibly see the marks forming, and his tongue is ruthless as it delves in and out of your dripping hole.

"t-toji, shit. feels so good," you manage to stammer out, your head thrown back and your hands traveling up to tangle in his messy dark hair without thinking, tugging on it gently.

your action draws a raspy chuckle from low in toji's throat, and his sloppy, shameless tongue seems to speed up even more in response. you vaguely register a glob of saliva landing on your pussy, but just as quick as it falls there, he's already licking it back up. "c'mon, girl, i know you can pull harder than that."

you attempt to tug his dishevelled strands harder, but your hands feel weak, and your thighs are starting to shake slightly around his head. you notice a familiar spring coiling in the depths of your stomach, but it feels more intense than any build-up to an orgasm you've given yourself before.

"t-think i'm close." you gasp out, your mouth hanging open as you try and keep your body from collapsing back against the mattress. he's quick to help, his hands sliding up the back of your skirt to support your back.

toji hums in satisfaction, a shit-eating (or, in this case, a pussy-eating) grin spreading across his lips as he continues to devour you, his tongue repeatedly massaging your g spot.

it feels like he's trying to eat you whole, and it's completely overwhelming in the best way possible.

"yeah?" he mutters against your cunt, wrapping his lips around your puffy, swollen clit and sucking the sensitive bud harshly. "go on then, baby. cum for me."

it feels like a part of you was instinctively waiting for his permission, because the second those words leave his mouth, your entire body starts convulsing in his strong arms, a strangled cry leaving your open mouth as you orgasm.

your earlier suspicion was right, because this is the hardest you've ever cum before in your entire life. (not that there's really much competition). your limbs feel all tingly and airy, and there aren't really many thoughts left in your mind except from toji, toji, toji.

"hmmph," toji grumbles, pulling back from your cunt after he's sure every bit of your sweet release is down his throat. he looks up at you, snickering gruffly at the utterly dumb look across your features.

you look completely fucked out already, and he hasn't even fucked you yet. that's what happens when you make a deal with a virgin, he assumes.

while you attempt to come down from your high, toji shifts slightly, his knees aching slightly from spending so long on the floor. but even worse than that, is the raging erection he has straining against the material of his sweatpants.

it's been there since he started kissing you, and it's only gotten progressively worse as the time stretched on. he's so hard now that it actually hurts, and the small stain of pre-cum darkening the front makes him feel like a damn teenager again.

toji gets to his feet, ignoring the way his stiff muscles protest, and sheds his sweats and his boxers in one swift movement, kicking them somewhere across the room. he makes his way between your legs, spreading them even further apart to make room for his body.

"wait..." you mumble dazedly, your words adorably slurred as you blink lazily up at him, reaching out a hand as if silently asking for something. "don't y'want me to return the favour first?"

he snorts, although it makes something inside him warm the slightest bit at your consideration. "nah, dollface. you're paying me, not the other way 'round, yeah?"

your pouty expression from earlier returns, but before you can argue further, your eyes fall on his cock, which you only just notice is free from his sweatpants. it's bigger than any you've seen videos of online before, with a prominent vein running down the length and pearly rivulets of pre-cum leaking from the pudgy tip.

your mouth falls into a small 'o' shape, a sudden sense of dread filling you at the mere thought of trying to take that inside of you. why did you have to make this deal with someone who has such an unnecessarily large dick?

toji chuckles deeply at your reaction, cocking his head to the side with a smug smirk. "what? don't tell me you're g'nna chicken out on me now, sweets?"

you could just smooth down your skirt, hand him your credit card as payment for what he's done for you already, and walk right out of his room the way you came in.

but you don't. you've come too far already to back out now — you're this close to finally losing your virginity.

"no," you murmur meekly, swallowing thickly and tearing your eyes away from his cock and meeting his eyes again. "i don't wanna stop. it's just... is that thing really gonna fit in me?"

he barks out an amused laugh at this, his rough palms on your thighs squeezing in what's probably his way of giving you a reassuring gesture. "it'll fit, baby. i loosened you up a little already, so that'll help."

"okay," you mutter, your eyes flickering back down as he wraps a large hand around the meaty base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance and rubbing it along your puffy folds, gathering some of your creamy slick on the head. "is it gonna hurt? it's gonna hurt, isn't it?"

toji huffs at your hurried rambling, leaning his head down to shut you up with a quick kiss to your lips. "it'll only hurt at the start," he grunts in as soothing a tone as he can muster, bracing a hand against the headboard above you.

this seems to ease your nerves, if only a little, and you nod in a sign of silent permission. but he doesn't appear satisfied with this, and he grasps your chin with his free hand. "that ain't good enough, dollface. use your words f'me."

"y-you can start now." you murmur in response, your eyes glued to the way the muscles in his arm flex above you as he begins to slowly push himself in.

"fuckin' shit," he groans, the sound more guttural than anything he's let out so far as his cock breaches the first ring of muscle inside of you, his beefy arm visibly shaking as he tries to hold himself back from just plunging all the way in. "so damn tight in here."

your face contorts into a grimace as a rush of pain pangs through your body, your hands clutching at the sheets for purchase. you'd heard about it hurting online, but then again, most people didn't take a cock as big as toji's for their first time.

"sorry, babydoll." he mutters hoarsely, his gruff tone holding an underlying tone of genuine sympathy instead of the amusement he's shown so far — he's clearly aware of the strain he's having on your body.

he gives you a few moments to adjust to the intrusion, gritting his teeth to hold back any sounds that threaten to spill out of his mouth when he feels your cunt clenching and unclenching around him.

"you can keep going now," you manage to say, your eyes screwed shut and your hands fisted in the bedcovers as you try to deal with the pain. "i'm okay."

he grunts in response, the hand that was around your chin moving to grasp one of your balled up hands as he continues to sink himself inside inch by inch. he can feel how hard you squeeze his hand the entire time, probably cutting off the circulation to his arm in the process.

but he couldn't care less about that. not when he so close to finally being balls deep inside of his pretty little roommate.

"biiiig stretch." toji hums, a low, drawn out sound, when he finally feels himself bottom out, your spongy walls contracting and fluttering around him as if they can't decide whether to push the intrusion out or pull it in deeper. "there we go."

you, on the other hand, couldn't manage to string together a single syllable. it feels like toji has buried himself into your guts, like he's physically rearranging your anatomy right before your eyes.

toji lets his own eyes flutter shut for a moment, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. he knows you need a while to adjust to taking all of him, but damn if he doesn't want to pound you into the mattress right now.

you let out a strangled groan, wriggling around against the covers as your body stretches to accommodate his sheer size. it feels like he could split you in half without much effort. "p-please... start moving, toji."

"you sure?" he rasps gruffly, his hand gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles have gone completely white. "once i start i prolly won't be able to stop."

"i-i don't care. just..." you begin, unable to even finish the thought when he shifts slightly, unintentionally pushing into you even deeper. "move."

he snorts at your desperation, but the sound turns into something akin to a growl when he pulls out slightly, before shoving himself right back in all the way.

"ah!" you sob pathetically, clinging onto his hand even tighter as he starts to shallowly thrust into you. shit, you're pretty sure you just felt something inside of you snap.

you're officially no longer a virgin.

"yeahhh." toji grunts above you, his lips spreading into a pussydrunk grin as he moves he moves his hips leisurely but expertly. you're starting to understand why his hookups always cry his name so loud through the thin walls separating your rooms.

the initial pain slowly starts to fade, being replaced by an overwhelming sense of pleasure and fullness. you bring your shaky legs up to wrap around his beefy back, your ankles locking against his skin.

"jesus, girl," he groans, his hips subtly stuttering in their pace in response to your actions. "y'er pullin' me in even deeper."

you open your mouth to apologize, or retort, or something, but it comes out as a slurred garble when you feel toji's fat cockhead brush against your cervix.

"uh huhh." he grins smugly, his hand that was interlaced with yours moving down to grip your hip and keep you in place as he quickens his pace slightly. he's being a little gentler than he usually would be just for you, but this is still toji here.

"t-too much!" you cry out, reaching up to grasp onto his bicep above you for some sort of support. your entire body is jolting against the covers in response to his increasingly hard thrusts, your mouth hanging open dumbly.

"nah, dollface," he grunts in protest, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip as if to ground you. "i know y'can take it. doing so damn well f'me."

toji brings his palm up from your hip to slide under your previously bunched up shirt, fondling your breasts and rolling one of your hardened nipples between his fingers.

this makes a loud mewl escape from your throat, your cunt clenching around him in response to the dual sensations. if you thought his tongue made you reach new heights of pleasure, his cock is a completely different beast.

you can already feel something strange stirring in the depths of your stomach. it's not like your previous orgasm, it's unfamiliar — it almost feels like you're about to pee.

"t-toji, feels weird," you slur out, squirming against the covers as you try to hold the rising sensation at bay. "like i'm gonna pee or something. m-maybe y'should pull out."

he barks out a laugh at this, as if he knows something you don't. his hand moves down to pat your stomach, right where the prominent bulge of his cock is moving in and out.

"that means you're gonna squirt, baby." he utters simply, making your eyes widen in surprise. now that's something you've definitely never managed to make yourself do before.

looks like you're gonna be ticking off more than one first from the list today.

"makin' ya squirt for y'er first time," he proclaims cockily, smirking to himself as he effortlessly keeps up the languid rolls of his hips. "i'm damn good, ain't i?"

"i haven't even squirted yet." you grumble, heat flooding to your cheeks in response to his teasing. he's still your annoyingly smug roommate, even when he's fucking you into his mattress.

"key word — yet." toji shrugs in response, his lethal thrusts quickening in pace. his rough palm pushes down right above your bulging tummy, causing you to let out a strangled gasp.

your cunt clenches impossibly tighter around him, your ankles digging into the skin of his back as you feel your second orgasm of the night start to wash over you. "fuck. g-gonna..."

"yeah? c'mon, baby, make a mess all on me." he grunts gruffly, his hand moving down to rub lazy, sloppy circles against your puffy clit, the nub pulsing under his touch.

"tojiiii!" you practically sob, the added stimulation sending you hurling over the edge before you can process it. your vision goes completely white with the intensity of your high, your breaths coming in heavy gasps.

"oh, thattt's it," he hums in satisfaction, lightly patting your pussy as he watches the gushes of clear liquid squirt out, lewdly coating the base of his cock and balls in your essence. "fuckin' good girl."

it only takes him a couple more strokes for toji to know he's close too, and he quickly pulls out, slapping his thick cock against the flushed skin of your tummy and giving it a few final jerks.

as much as he'd love to fill you up, he figures that since you're a virgin, you probably wouldn't be on birth control.

and he's not about take that risk.

toji lets out a low, raspy grunt as he spills his creamy, pearlescent cum all over your stomach, tainting the supple skin with his sticky, oozy mess.

he lazily tugs his boxers and sweatpants back up, wiping some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before leaning down and giving your cheek a quick, wet kiss.

then he saunters out of the room, leaving you panting and limp on his bed while he rifles through your purse on the living room table.

"i would've done that for free, by the way." toji mutters amusedly as he pulls out your credit card, waving it tauntingly in front of his face with the smuggest grin yet stretching at his lips. "see ya in thirty six hours, dollface."

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

i’d like to dedicate my first proper fic to @screampied because her works inspired me to begin writing my own! <3

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[doveywovy]

au in which shen yuan got transmigrated as a kid, a few years before binghe's on the peak, and shen jiu sees this little guy who looks exactly like him, sharing a name with him, digging a hole desperate to get in- and is filled with incandescent rage.

just like with binghe, for shen jiu seeing a parallel of himself at his weakest makes him furious. he wants to smoosh this creature like a bug. he resolves to do the mature thing and ignore it and hope it will die of starvation when it fails to get into a sect; but then the worst imaginable thing happens.

Yue qingyuan tries to save it. Unacceptable. Yue qingyuan abandoned him as a child, and is now trying to rescue this creature? What's so special about Shen Yuan that he's earned the rescue Shen Jiu never received himself? What's so good about it? Shen Jiu can already tell that Yue Qingyuan will spoil it rotten on his peak, give him exactly the life of safety and support that Shen Jiu always secretly wanted and never got. So he claims the beast first.

In five years, when Lou Binghe arrives on the peak and is begrudingly accepted as Ning Yingying's newest shidi, Shen Jiu barely pays him any mind. He already has a little beast that he despises and takes out his frustrations on. Binghe's similarities to himself (And his perceived blessings that young Shen Jiu never got) pale in comparison to Shen Yuan's, and thus go entirely unnoticed.

Shen Yuan feels- complex, about it, because truthfully he's been holding out hope for Binghe to save him. If not in a protagonist's manner, then in the age-old method of a bully choosing a new target. instead...nothing changes.

Binghe doesn't interfere. He's a scared child who's just secure the better future he promised his mother he'd aim for before she died. He's got steady access to food and shelter, and he doesn't want to risk that. Shen Yuan can't blame him. But ah, as the years pass.... Binghe starts to rise in the peak. Without Jiu targeting him, his natural talents allow him many successes. More important, his skill at manipulation develops at a younger age- he knows how to win over his peers, how to appeal to the peak lord. He quickly becomes head disciple, respected and somewhat trusted.

He still doesn't save Shen Yuan. It's not that he joins in bullying him; that would be too OOC! Even Yuan would protest if something like that occurred! But he turns a blind eye to it all. When the other disciples steal his food, Binghe doesn't ensure he gets to eat. When the other disciples run him out to the woodshed, Binghe never demands they give him back his bed. He doesn't even bring Shen Yuan a blanket. To Binghe, it's like Shen Yuan doesn't exist at all. It's the only way Binghe can feel secure that it won't be him in such a position if he speaks up.

It's hard for Shen Yuan to not get a little resentful. Not just because- because of all his hopes he'd pinned, maybe, on the protagonist he'd admired so much saving him. Not just because it feels like he's taken on Binghe's suffering for him and an unwitting Binghe is ungrateful. (he knows this is a foolish thing to think, but it's how he feels regardless.) Not even just because Binghe is *head disciple* and that makes it literally his job to fix this sort of thing. But specifically, because if Binghe was the one suffering, there's a guarantee that at the end of this it would end. He'd get out from under Shen Qinqqiu's thumb and he'd go on to get his revenge and become a powerful and respected cultivator, and have lots of wives and lots of money and lots of food and a safe place to sleep... Shen Yuan is background fodder. He'll never amount to anything.

But he doesn't hate Binghe. He could never! He knows, deep down, that Binghe's just scared and he's adapted to survive this way and besides, Binghe is still really really cool. Shen Yuan likes getting to see how cool Binghe is up close, with his growth so unhampered. Binghe is amazing at fight, so clever in classes, an excellent musician already, a detective as clever as sherlock holmes on missions, a warrior without equal on monsterhunts. When he gets to see Binghe in action, as opposed to Binghe on the peak failing to save him- he can forgive anything, really.

Eventually Shen Yuan decides he's got to get out. He'll do the conference, try really hard, and see if he can transfer to another sect. Probably not, because his skills are awful; but even so he'll leave and become a rogue cultivator. It'll be hard, and he might starve, but anything is better than staying on the peak forever.

He assumed that Binghe, with all this unhindered skills-leveling, wouldn't get caught as a half-demon. Or that if he was, perhaps his relationship was close enough with the peak lord that it would spare him his fate from the novel. Instead- instead he sees exactly how it plays out. Binghe's control slips at the edge of the abyss, and the truth is revealed to the small group of disciples he was protecting (including shen yuan, for once!) and to a furious Shen Qingqiu.

The Peak Lord forced his head disciple to the edge of the cliff and goes to stab him through the heart.

Shen Yuan does something he'll regret, entirely on instinct: He tries to interfere. He tries to call out and save him. isn't this your respected head disciple? isn't binghe only here because he was trying to protect the disciples in his care?

It's pointless. Binghe still falls into the abyss. But it leaves shen yuan behind- already hated, already mistrusted, and now he's just defended a demonic spy who'd been hidden in their sect. His chances of living to see Binghe claw his way back out of the abyss are extremely low- at best, he'll see it through the bars of a cell at the water prison.

-------

au discussed with @slurmdog :)

[ja3yun]

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer | CH.2: Saturn and Uranus

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (m.rec), slight throat fucking, whiney heeseung, strip club and dances, mentions of alcohol and anxiety, anything else lmk! wc: 18.8k ch.2 synopsis: with you and heeseung fleeing the scene of your accidental crime, you weave through the trials of finding safety and making some cash, leading you straight to saturn strip club. a/n: hi! thank you so so much for the love and support on the first chapter <3 i'm sorry if it seems slow but it picks up the pace in the following chapters so please stick with it! i love this series sm and i am so appreciative of each and every one of you! as always, reblogs, likes, comments, and feedback are all welcome

chapter 1 | masterlist | chapter 3

Your precious car begins to slow down despite your foot firmly pressed on the pedal, causing you to glance at the dashboard quizzically. The needle on the fuel gauge hovers perilously close to empty, a sight that sends a jolt of anxiety through you. 

There’s no way it has already run out of petrol, you only filled it up two days ago; then again, you have been driving for the better part of six hours down winding roads. You start to wonder if perhaps you were overly optimistic about that refuelling. There also might be a small, tiny chance that you only filled it up halfway because you ran out of money for an entire tank.

As these thoughts race through your mind, the car gives a tired shudder. The engine's steady hum falters, replaced by a series of splutters. The tail of your vehicle emits a loud, desperate noise, gasping for something to quench its thirst. You turn just in time to see a thin, ominous layer of black smoke drifting from the exhaust pipe.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles turn white as you scan the deserted road ahead for any sign of a petrol station. The vast, empty stretch of asphalt seems to mock your predicament. Panic sets in as you realise the gravity of the situation. The distant horizon offers no solace, just an unending ribbon of road under the setting sun.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, slamming your palm harshly on the steering wheel as the car comes to a halt.

Heeseung twists his head to look at your disgruntled expression before noticing the puff of smoke in his peripheral vision, his eyes widening in fear. The only time he had seen a car fog up like this was when Jongseong decided to do skids in the Tesco car park at 3am after too many Red Bulls and exam stress. The next day, his friend had to replace every tyre and pay a fine after being caught on CCTV.

This consequence might be drastically worse.

“We could phone AA. They can pick us up or fill the tank,” he suggests, as if he can magically conjure a phone booth in front of you.

Huffing, you suppress the silent rage coursing through you due to the recent life events. You sit back, gripping the wheel tightly. “Heeseung,” you begin, keeping your voice slow and steady, “you do realise there is a dead body in the hotel room that has probably been found by now, and they will be looking for us!”

You don’t mean to get agitated with the timid boy, but the gravity of the situation is pushing you to the edge. You don’t even want to think about the scene back at the hotel or who the poor person that found your attacker would be. If it was Kat at reception, she definitely would have already called the police, given a character description, and probably found a way to help them locate your National Insurance number. She always did hate your guts, and it would be a joyous occasion for her to watch your demise unfold with her playing a key part in it.

You grab a bobble from the glove compartment and pull your hair back into a ponytail, closing your eyes briefly as you try to devise a plan. The tension in the car is palpable, a mix of fear and frustration hanging in the air. "I'll walk and see if there's a petrol station nearby," you say, flicking two framing pieces of hair out and holding your hands out to Heeseung. "Can I get some of the money you brought?"

Heeseung looks at you with arched brows. "You don’t have any?" he asks incredulously. It’s not like he expected you to be a billionaire, but with thousands of horny men and a girl as gorgeous as you, he figured you had more than enough cash.

If only he knew you were eating out-of-date beans two weeks ago and that your water was shut off because you couldn’t pay the bill. The reality of your life is far removed from the glamorous facade you sometimes project.

"I only carry £20 with me in case a client tries to rob me. I can't ever be too careful," you explain, understanding the irony in your attempt at safety when you were two seconds away from meeting the man in white at the pearly gates not too long ago.

Heeseung doesn’t fully grasp your logic, but he also isn’t a sex worker, so he trusts your judgement. "Okay, let me grab my..." he begins to say, nodding in agreement and patting his chest in search of his jacket pocket. His eyes bulge, and his heart sinks like a stone in water.

Frantically, he searches his body, as if this would magically make his brown jacket appear. Sweat from his terror seeps from his pores as he chants a few tiny 'fucks', looking around your car with panicked eyes. His breaths become shallow, and you can see the fear creeping into his features.

"What’s wrong?" you ask calmly, not matching his urgent state. Your voice is steady, a stark contrast to the chaos bubbling beneath the surface.

He turns to you slowly, swallowing thickly. He doesn’t know how to tell you the unfortunate information he has just realised, so he stays silent for a moment, leaving you to wonder in the tension-filled car.

“What is it? Just tell me.”

"I...I left my jacket in the hotel room."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Heeseung!" you shout, throwing your hands up in the air to punctuate your disappointment in his forgetfulness. You can’t believe how stupid he is considering you told him to grab his things. When you said that, you meant everything.

Heeseung shoulders the blame but gets defensive at your attitude towards his blunder. "I’m sorry! It’s not every day I kill a man and have to flee with a prostitute, okay? I wasn’t thinking," he exclaims, his voice cracking with stress. He can feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, making his hands tremble slightly.

"Oh, you think I go around whacking my clients on the regular?" you argue back, eyes burning with a dangerous fury. The absurdity of the situation, coupled with your rising panic, makes your temper flare. 

"Well-" he starts but cuts himself off because he doesn’t know how to argue with you. His eyes drop, and he lets out a deep sigh, running his hands through his hair in frustration.“My ID is in the pocket, Y/N. They’ll find me for sure…”

Looking at him, you suddenly wince in sympathy. If the cameras and Kat didn’t rat him out to the authorities, his ID certainly would. The sheer panic on his face is a reminder of how dire your situation truly is. 

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "We need a plan," you say, your voice steadier now. “We need to walk, it's nearly 9pm and we can’t be out here like sitting ducks.”

“We’ll be walking all night, Y/N. I can’t do this, I can’t…I have an exam on Monday,” he whines, chest heaving up and down as he puts himself in a state of panic by thinking about the final assignments of his academic career - much to your dismay. His eyes dart around frantically as if looking for an escape route that isn’t there.

Out of all the things for him to worry about, his exam should not be taking priority. “Heeseung, that is the least of your concern. We killed a man, me and you - we can’t go back. What part of that do you not fucking understand? Do you seriously think I would be sitting in a dead car with you in the middle of fuck knows where if I could just go back to my flat and move on with my life?”

Your anger is flaring through your nostrils, each breath you take feeling like it’s stoking a fire inside you. The reality of the consequences to your predicament crashes over you in waves.

Heeseung’s face pales, and you can see him physically shrink back, his shoulders hunching as he tries to make himself smaller. He looks at you with wide, scared eyes, clearly cowed by your outburst. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, almost inaudibly, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear and guilt.

You take a moment to look at him and your heart breaks. He never asked for this, the same as you didn’t, so you shouldn’t be yelling at him as if this is all his fault, or that his feelings and worries are any less valid than your own, even if they are misplaced. He came to you looking to lose his virginity, not gain trauma and a criminal record - and that’s exactly what he got all because he saved you.

Closing your eyes, you rub your temples, trying to gather your thoughts. The night is closing in around you, the impending darkness feeling suffocating. The horizon is a blur of shadows, with the last traces of daylight fading into an oppressive twilight. You can’t afford to waste time arguing. You need to move, and you need to move now.

Pondering for a while, you realise your current state of dress isn’t helping the situation. Sitting in nothing but a robe with no bra and only lace panties underneath isn’t practical for a night trek, let alone safe. The robe, which barely provides any warmth or coverage, feels utterly inadequate against the encroaching chill. You glance at Heeseung, who’s still looking down, avoiding your gaze, biting the skin from his lip in anxiety.

“Heeseung,” you say more gently, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice. “Can I borrow your shirt?”

He looks up, confusion clouding his eyes for a moment before he registers your request. “Yeah, sure, anything,” he says, his voice tinged with desperation and a need to atone for his earlier mistake. He hurriedly rids himself of his plaid shirt, almost fumbling in his haste, and hands it over to you. His movements are frantic, a physical manifestation of his internal turmoil.

Even the way he says "anything" makes the guilt suppress the anger towards him. The boy is so sweet and gentle, you never knew someone like him could ever exist, not in this grotty city anyway. 

You take your robe off, revealing your erect nipples to him once again, this time in a much less sexually charged atmosphere. The night air feels like icy fingers brushing against your skin, making you shiver involuntarily. With the sun disappearing to let the moon say hello, you rush to get the shirt on, shielding yourself from the settling cold. The plaid shirt, still warm from Heeseung's body heat, provides a semblance of comfort and much needed warmth amidst the chaos.

As you’re getting dressed in Heeseung’s shirt, he tries his best not to look at you and give you even a shred of privacy. He might have seen them earlier but that does not mean you consent to him catching a swatch right now. His gaze remains fixed on the ceiling of the car, his hands clenching and unclenching as he battles with his own thoughts.

But god, he can imagine them now, how perfect and delicious they looked, like something out of his wildest fantasies, the feeling of them cupped in his hands and how squishy they felt. Despite his efforts to maintain some decorum, the images linger in his mind, a thought he desperately tries to push aside. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and shuffling in his seat to adjust the twitch in his balls, he tries to focus on anything else, the guilt gnawing at him.

Once dressed, you notice how Heeseung’s shirt, though oversized, fits snugly enough to offer some semblance of modesty. The fabric, soft and slightly worn, smells faintly of him - a mix of soap and something uniquely his. 

“Heeseung, we need to keep moving,” you say, your voice firm but gentle. He nods, swallowing hard but still avoiding your gaze. You can see him fidgeting in his seat, his hand tugging at the zipper of his jeans, seeking relief from the friction.

Stifling a laugh, grateful for the distraction, you snap your fingers playfully. “I know you have a bad case of blue balls, but we need to focus.”

Heeseung’s face turns a vivid shade of red as his eyes widen in shock, his mouth opening and closing without a sound. He can’t believe you noticed him fiddling with his trousers to alleviate the discomfort. Yet, just like you, he welcomes the distraction, though he would have preferred it to come from something less embarrassing.

“We need to ditch this car and find a motel or something,” you suggest determinedly, scanning the deserted road for any signs of life or guidance but there’s nothing but darkness.

You swing open the driver’s door and step onto the slightly damp grass, cringing internally at the cold, wet sensation between your bare toes as you circle around to the boot to rummage through your belongings. You always keep a bag of spare work clothes and some makeup in there for emergencies. In hindsight, you really should have packed proper clothes and not a tiny set of lingerie, but for now, Heeseung’s shirt paired with your six-inch heels will have to do.

As you slam the boot shut, you take a moment to look at your car, preparing yourself to say goodbye. This trusty vehicle has taken you across the country, creating memories filled with both joy and sorrow, all of which have shaped who you are today. This is just another memory to add to the collection, no matter how unpleasant.

You glance at your gleaming custom registration plate, panic rising within you. It’s a beacon, a glaring signal that could lead anyone straight to you. If they’re searching for you, it won’t take them long to find you with a plate like that. Stroking the hood of the car, you pout. “I’m so sorry for this, baby,” you whisper lovingly to the motor before bringing your stiletto down with a harsh crash against the metal. The pain shoots up your leg, but it’s the crack in your heart that hurts the most. You never imagined you’d have to hurt your precious car, let alone abandon it.

Heeseung hears the commotion and scrambles out, his eyes wide with alarm. He sees you attacking the back of the car, unaware of your intentions. Your face is flushed with exertion as you put all your might into battering the plate off its screws. Strands of hair fall out of your ponytail, which you angrily huff away. Despite himself, Heeseung finds this display of dominance strangely attractive. The way you assert control over the metal makes him wonder how you would have treated him if things had gone to plan.

The sight of your heels jamming into the rear only fuels his thoughts further. His mind races with images of you dominating a man, your heel tearing into his flesh like extinguishing a cigarette. The picture causes an ache in Heeseung’s groyne, making him shuffle uncomfortably. This feeling is something he’ll have to explore; perhaps once he gets past his virginity, he can figure out his kinks.

If he ever does lose it, that is.

“W-what are you doing?” he asks shyly, scared to break your concentration.

Huffing, you look up at him, seeing the bewilderment in his eyes. You can’t blame him, you must look deranged like a bull charging at a red flag. “I’m breaking these off so it buys us some time, just in case a cop car comes by,” you explain, wiping sweat from your brow. If you were cold before, you certainly aren’t now.

He watches you soothe your aching leg, his concern genuine and heartfelt. “You need to be careful, Y/N. You could hurt your ankle,” he states, his voice filled with worry.

You’re about to snap at him, but his soft expression and worried eyes make you relent. Taking a deep breath, you calm yourself before replying. “Can you get the one at the front, please?” Your voice is steady, though the aggression of your kick shows you’re not in the mood for further discussion. Heeseung nods and heads to the front of the car, obediently following your instructions.

Heeseung, slightly shaky but determined, crouches down to work on the front plate. You watch him, grateful for his cooperation despite the circumstances. The dim light from the casting moon creates long shadows, and the quiet night amplifies every sound: the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl, the metallic clinks as Heeseung fumbles with the screws. The whole scene feels surreal, as if you're in a suspenseful film.

Returning to the back of the car, you take a deep breath and assess the damage. The number plate is now hanging by one screw, bent and battered but still attached. You give it another firm kick, wincing as the stiletto heel digs into the metal. With a final tug, the plate comes off, and you toss it into the nearby bushes, hoping it will be concealed well enough to buy you some time.

“Heeseung, how’s it going up there?” you call out, trying to mask the urgency in your voice.

“Almost done,” he replies, his voice strained. A few moments later, he triumphantly holds up the front plate, looking to you for approval. You nod, giving him a small, encouraging smile. He seems so happy, like he just won a month of free rental at BlockBuster. 

This is the first time you’ve seen him smile and it melts your heart, his toothy grin and smile lines accentuating the sun that seems to radiate from his face. He probably smiled like that all the time before all of this, you think to yourself with a pang of remorse.

Following your lead, he tosses it into the high bushes, listening to the rustling leaves as the metal cascades down the intertwined branches. He wipes the fallen paint and dust from his hands on his dark jeans and moves to the back of the car to reach you, his happiness dims a little as he sees you hobble slightly.

Before you can place the coveted bag on your shoulder, Heeseung clasps his big hand around the strap and steals it from you, wrapping it around his neck and shoulder so it can swing idly under his arm. You don’t get to protest at his snatching because he’s already walking forward, stirring up his energy for the long walk ahead.

_____

You haven’t seen a single inch of light or hope in the past two hours of walking along the countryside. The skies, once adorned with a pale twilight, have now succumbed to the inky darkness of night. The narrow dirt path stretches endlessly before you, flanked by skeletal trees and picked-apart bushes. The cold, relentless and unforgiving, seeps into your bones, making each step more laborious than the last. The only sound accompanying your journey is the rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

Your soles are burning, a searing pain that intensifies with each agonising step. The God-forsaken heels feel like instruments of torture, biting into your feet and reducing your stride to a painful shuffle. Every uneven stone and hidden root sends jolts of agony through your body, making you wince involuntarily. The cold, having long breached the feeble barriers of Heeseung’s shirt, wraps around you like a cruel, invisible shroud.

Hunger gnaws at your insides, a relentless beast that roars louder with each passing minute. Your stomach grumbles an angry, persistent sound that echoes through the stillness. You're convinced Heeseung can hear it.

And he does. 

Heeseung, walking beside you, casts worried glances in your direction. The concern in his eyes is unmistakable, a silent testament to his awareness of your suffering. He can see the pain etched across your face, the way your lips are pressed into a thin line of determination despite the evident exhaustion.

His gaze drops to your feet, noticing how you wince with every step. Your once resolute stride is now reduced to a limping hobble, the back of your shoes digging mercilessly into your sore, blistered skin. Your feet, barely able to withstand the pressure, threaten to give out beneath you. The muscles in your legs tremble with fatigue, each step a monumental effort that pushes you closer to your breaking point.

Heeseung's concern manifests in his actions; he slows his pace to match your faltering steps, offering a steadying hand when you stumble over an unseen obstacle. His presence is a small comfort, a reminder that you are not alone in this desolate landscape. His words, though few, are gentle and encouraging, urging you to hold on just a little longer.

Hating the sight of you in pain, Heeseung places a timid hand on your shoulder, causing you to pause in your steps. “Maybe you should take those off?” he suggests, eyes pointed down to your bruised feet.

“And walk along the British countryside that has needles and shit lying around?” you ask rhetorically, a bite in your voice due to the irritation you’re being overstimulated by, “Unless you want to swap, these heels are staying on.”

Despite only knowing you a few hours, he has grasped that you are a stubborn and independent woman who seldom takes help from those around her. You can hold your own against the world, not a single crutch to lean on; when Heeseung had offered you a piggyback a few miles back, you snapped at him, telling him that as much as you appreciate the gesture, you are not a child in need of comfort.

He never offered again.

That’s why even as he suggests a solution to your problem, he does it with a shaky voice. He has always been scared of women in general, so having to navigate around an angry and short-tempered one who is also hungry is something he is having a problem with.

“Look, I’m fine, Heeseung. Really, just st-”

Your sentence is interrupted by the distant sound of an engine. Both your and Heeseung’s eyes expand at the beautiful noise, each of you having similar thoughts that this could be your get out of jail free card. The sound grows louder, cutting through the oppressive silence of the night like a beacon of hope. Your heart leaps, adrenaline surging through your veins as the possibility of escape becomes tantalisingly real.

Quickly thinking, you unbutton the shirt that covers your most valuable assets in a situation like this and scoop your tits up slightly, to give you a more voluptuous look. You whip the bobble out from your hair and ruffle it to a bouncy state. The cold air hits your exposed skin, sending a shiver down your spine, but you ignore the discomfort, focusing instead on the potential saviour approaching.

Heeseung watches you, his eyes wide with a mixture of astonishment and anxiety. His mouth opens as if to protest, but no words come out. He’s torn between his instinct to protect and his hope that your plan might actually work. But you’re putting yourself in more danger by trying to lure the driver in with your body, and he can’t face whacking another person to ensure your safety.

“Y/N, what are you doing? People don’t do this anymore, not since the 70s,” he argues softly, trying to stand in your way as the headlights illuminate the dark road you walk on.

Pushing him to the side, you shake your head, plastering on a smile and sticking your thumb out. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Heeseung. We need a lift and I’m making sure we get it,” you retort.

Granted, you have never hitchhiked in your life and the only reason you have an inch of knowledge on how to do this is through movies, some of which end up as well as Heeseung is imagining, but there are two of you and if today has taught you anything, you make a great team when it comes to defending yourself.

The vehicle comes into view, an old pickup truck, its paint chipped and weathered. It slows as it approaches, and for a brief moment, you hold your breath, praying that the driver will stop. With one final push attempt, you jump slightly, flailing your arms around as your bare breasts bounce freely under the shirt. If it doesn’t catch the driver's attention, it quickly catches Heeseung’s, who diverts his eyes up to the starry sky.

Luckily, your tits seem to work and the car pulls up beside you both, the engine purring softly and the exhaust pipe offering you a tiny blanket of warmth. The window rolls down to reveal a man, roughly your age or possibly younger, licking his lips and eyeing you up and down.

“Need a lift?” he asks casually, not bothering to even look at your face.

And Heeseung said it wouldn’t work.

“Yes, please!” you giggle, shifting into one of your many work personas, hiding the irritation and pain that you are in. 

Stepping forward, Heeseung attempts to place a hand on your back to urge you to reconsider, perhaps ask the boy for directions and keep trudging forward on your own, but before he can, you are already clambering into the passenger seat, sinking into the comfort and taking the weight of your distressed feet.

Following your lead, even if it’s apprehensively, Heeseung climbs into the back, setting your bag on one of the seats as though it were a passenger itself. Although alarm bells are ringing in his mind, he appreciates the instant envelopment of contentment as his legs relax, the tingles from hours of walking and anxiety slowly leaving his limbs.

The warmth of the truck's interior is a stark contrast to the cold night outside, and you let out a sigh of relief as the heater's warm air washes over you. The driver puts the truck in gear and pulls back onto the road, the engine's hum vibrating around you as you slip into a relaxed state. 

The driver glances at Heeseung in the rearview mirror, a curious look in his eyes. “Where are you two headed?” he asks.

“Is there a motel nearby?” Heeseung inquires, buckling his seatbelt with a mix of hope and caution.

Nodding, the man smiles. “There is one about 30 minutes away, just beside the memorial hall.”

The confirmation of a place to rest being within reaching distance makes Heeseung’s heart patter with relief. As you settle into your seat, you can’t help but notice the driver’s striking appearance. He is incredibly handsome, with jet-black hair that catches the faint glow of the dashboard lights, thick, dark eyebrows that frame his intense eyes, and a few beauty freckles scattered across his face that add to his rugged charm. His strong but gentle manner is magnetic, and you find yourself drawn to his presence.

You didn’t know people so gorgeous existed in this country, having thought Heeseung might have been the only exception. Yet, here you are, in a four-wheeler with probably two of the fittest men you’ve ever seen. You glance back at Heeseung, his sharp features softened by the warm glow of the truck’s interior lights. Despite the exhaustion etched on his face, there’s a calmness in his expression that wasn’t there before, a quiet acceptance of the situation.

The driver’s gaze flickers to you occasionally, a hint of curiosity mixed with lust. “You don’t look like you belong here, baby girl,” he says, his voice low and smooth, carrying an undercurrent of intrigue.

Twirling your hair with your pointer finger, you bat your eyelashes and smile sheepishly, becoming the woman most men want you to be, and for him, you just might submit to the role. “Is it that obvious?” you say, giggling softly and biting your lip seductively. “I could say the same to you…” Trailing off, you subtly ask for his name, your voice dripping with playful curiosity.

“Sunghoon,” he replies, his name rolling off his tongue with a confident ease. He extends a hand, which you happily take, intending to shake it, but instead, he lifts the back of your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. The unexpected gesture sends a shiver through you, making butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The warmth of his touch lingers long after he releases your hand. Sunghoon’s eyes hold yours for a moment longer, a silent exchange of mutual attraction that leaves you feeling both exhilarated and slightly off-balance.

“I’m Y/N, and this is Heeseung,” you offer your names casually, still swimming in his allure. You had set off with the intention that he would fall for you and give you the lift, but now that you’re here, you feel like a bunny trapped by the bear.

Heeseung shifts slightly in the back seat, his eyes flicking between you and Sunghoon. The moment is not lost on him, but he says nothing, simply watching with a guarded expression. He isn’t jealous of your interaction with Sunghoon per se; it’s more that he is envious of how easily the driver has put you under a spell. The boy’s charm even captivates him a little bit, watching as Sunghoon’s eyes return to the road with not an ounce of trepidation or fear of you. 

That is who he wants to be, everything that Sunghoon is. He probably has girlfriends and lovers coming out of his ears, all probably just as equally as beautiful as you. It makes Heeseung recoil a little in the seat because the only reason he has been able to talk to you so freely is because of your trauma-bonding experience and the fact he has been stuck with you in the same car for hours.

You and Sunghoon continue to converse for the whole journey, flirting so blatantly that Heeseung starts taking mental notes on how to talk to women just to pass the time; he wishes he had brought his notebook with him. Sunghoon’s easy laughter and smooth compliments weave a web of enchantment, and you find yourself responding with a level of flirtation that surprises even you.

In the distance, you start to see lights shining and you instinctively lean forward, your body craving the need of a grungy motel and some much-needed rest, even if it is only for a few hours. The neon sign flickers invitingly, casting a welcoming glow over the worn facade of the building. 

Sunghoon notices your movement and smiles. “We’re almost there,” he says, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

The truck slows as it approaches the motel, and Sunghoon skillfully navigates into the parking lot. He parks and turns to you with a warm, lingering gaze. “Here we are. I hope this place meets your needs.” His tone is sultry, his eyes hooded as they drop to your cleavage.

You lean over, placing a hand on his chest, your fingers crawling their way along his left pec as you move in closer. Your lips are now so close to his that you can feel his warm breath fanning over your face. “Thank you, Sunghoon. You’re the best,” you murmur, your voice low and seductive. You close the distance and press your lips to his and he eagerly responds, his large hand cupping your face and pulling you closer to deepen the kiss.

Sunghoon's tongue swiftly makes its way to play with yours, licking into your mouth with measured ease. The kiss is hot and intense, and if you weren’t on the run for murder and a certain virgin wasn’t in the backseat, you might have taken things further right there in the truck.

But that wasn’t your plan. You had something else in mind.

Heeseung watches with his jaw slack and mouth open. He knows how good your lips feel and how skilful you are with your tongue, having experienced it firsthand. His eyes widen with a mix of awe and something else - perhaps envy or longing - as he observes the passionate exchange between you and Sunghoon.

After what feels like both an eternity and a heartbeat, you pull back, your lips tingling from the kiss. “We should get inside, get some rest,” you whisper, your voice breathy. Sunghoon nods, his eyes still locked on yours. “Thanks for everything, Hoonie,” you say, the nickname rolling off your tongue and making Sunghoon close his eyes in want.

“If I didn’t have to keep driving, I would be coming with you, fucking you so good,” he admits, his voice low and husky. The rawness of his words shocks Heeseung, but you seem unfazed by the idea; rather, you look a little disappointed.

Despite your feelings, you smile and place one more kiss on his lips before waving him goodbye in some sort of hurry. You step out of the car and slam the door behind you with ease. The sound and vibration jolt Heeseung out of his horny trance before he quickly thanks Sunghoon, picking up your bag and following suit, albeit a lot more clumsily than you.

You send him off one final time as his truck pulls out of the motel parking lot. You grin widely and hide the shooting pain that has found its way back to the sole of your feet. God, you cannot wait to get into a room and take the heels of death off. 

Turning to Heeseung, you see him looking at the poster underneath the illuminated ‘open’ sign. His face is contorted in a mix of horror and dread, his tongue coming out of his mouth to wet his parched lips as he begins to overheat with worry. “What is it?” you ask, puzzled.

“The motel,” he starts, pointing to the board before him, “It’s £40 a night and we only have £20.”

Smirking, you look up at him innocently before rustling something in your hand, bringing it up to his face as a badge of honour. “No, we don’t.”

Heeseung’s eyes leave the board to meet yours but are quickly pulled astray by the notes that sit snugly between two of your fingers. He has to blink a few times before he truly accepts what he is seeing - at least £80 in tens and twenties invades his vision. “When did you…” he trails off, examining the money closely.

“Sunghoon owed me for the kiss,” you shrug, placing the money in your breast pocket while making your way to the entrance of the motel.

Stuttering, Heeseung carefully grabs your arm and pulls you back before you can enter the building. “Y/N, you stole from him, that’s not okay. He helped us out and you robbed him.” His voice is stern but lacks the confidence to back it up, so it comes across as a little pathetic. Although his conviction is feeble, his morals have always taken precedence over anything else, even in moments like this, he cannot sit by and watch you do this so casually.

“Heeseung,” you shove his hand off your arm, “It’s not like I wanted to steal it, okay? But we are desperate and need it way more than he does. We can’t be law-abiding citizens when we literally murdered a man,” you whisper, eyes pleading with him to see your side of the tracks.

And he does somewhat; he agrees that you guys are in a tough situation and resources won’t come easily to you, but he also thinks there have to be better ways to go about this. Relenting, Heeseung nods. “Okay, this one is fine because we need it, but we have to remember that just because that happened in the hotel room doesn’t mean we need to start acting like we’re criminals. We should still keep our values, Y/N.”

You see the worry etched on his face, his eyes pleading for you to agree. “I know, Heeseung. I promise I’ll try to find better ways,” you say, your voice softer, trying to convey your understanding. 

Heeseung exhales deeply, tension easing slightly from his shoulders. “Alright, let’s just get inside and get a room. We can figure things out tomorrow.”

Stepping into the motel foyer instantly blasts you with warmth and the smell of mould, the interior is shabby and the once-white walls are stained yellow with what you can only presume is cigarette smoke. The carpet is damp and you can hear it squelch underneath your heel, the light above the reception desk flickers. Despite all this, it feels like you’re at the Ritz right now due to the exhaustion flowing through your body.

The reception desk is manned by an older man reading the paper, his hair white thinning atop his scalp, his beard in desperate need of a wash, and the remnants of his midnight snack splattered on his light blue shirt. 

He doesn’t notice you at first, his nose too far pressed into yesterday’s edition of the Daily Mail to pay attention. Gingerly, you knock on the desk in an attempt to draw his focus to you and Heeseung, but to no avail. Too tired to start a fight about respect, you decide to speak politely.

“Um, can we have a room, please?” you ask, pushing down the disgust you feel towards the man.

Grunting, he reaches for a key with a brown, leather tag on it before throwing it to Heeseung, who scrambles to catch it. The key jumps from one hand to another as though it was hot as lava, eliciting a panicked state within him.

The man points down a dark hallway. “Condoms are in the vending machine at the end. Use one or I’ll charge you for the sheets,” his hoarse voice instructs, clearly assuming you are both there for something other than sleep. To be fair, it is almost 1am, you’re dressed provocatively, and Heeseung is carrying a tiny travel bag. Although you hate the assumption because it is literally none of his business, you bite your tongue and go with it.

Snapping his fingers, he holds his hand out, eyes glued to an article about how the internet is the first step to alien abduction. Heeseung looks at the man with cruel intent, wishing he were stronger and more confident to cuss the receptionist out for treating you with zero regard.

You throw the two £20 notes at him with the same lack of enthusiasm he gave you and walk towards the room that you know is ridiculously overpriced for what you’ll be given.

And unfortunately for you, it is.

As you open the door and switch on the light, your eyes come across a room so bad that you wouldn’t even let your worst enemy spend a night there. Stains cover the walls, a mixture of blood and piss, though you aren’t quite sure which is which. The ceiling light is half hanging down and flickering rapidly, making it hard for your eyes to focus. The bed sheets are an ugly geometric pattern, clearly chosen to hide whatever atrocities have been conceived within these four walls.

A sour, musty smell permeates the air, a blend of mildew and neglect. The carpet looks damp, suggesting that it’s soaked up more than just water over the years. You gingerly make your way to the bed, pulling back the covers to reveal dingy, threadbare sheets that have seen far better days.

Heeseung stands awkwardly in the doorway, looking around the room with wide eyes. “This place is... something else,” he mutters, the understatement of the century.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to keep your voice light despite the overwhelming urge to retch. “But at least we have a roof over our heads for the night.”

Heeseung nods, though his expression remains dubious. He drops the bag near the foot of the bed and wanders around the room, looking for any cameras of rats hiding in plain sight. “We’ll make do,” he says, more to reassure himself than you. He has been in far too many dodgy hotels in the last 24 hours.

You sit on the end of the bed, groaning as you take off your heels, your toes happily wiggling with freedom as they thump in agonising pain. Now that you have a moment to relax, your feet are developijg their own heartbeat, banging against your nerves as they scream in pain. 

Heeseung notices the blisters, some just forming and some already burst. There are dark purple bruises on the base of your foot which has now turned bright crimson. He knew the heels were damaging your feet but he never expected it to look like a massacre - it looks like your feet have been put in a shredder during a workplace accident and he’s ready to call on your behalf for some compensation.

“Are you okay?” he asks, knowing the answer already.

“I’m okay, I just need to let them breathe for a minute,” you reply, massaging your feet before they begin to swell any further.

Finding the bathroom, he rummages around for something while you ease your pain. You accidentally run your thumbs too harshly over one of the forming blisters and yelp out, tears pricking your eyes. 

Heeseung comes out from the bathroom, sees a tear slip past your cheek, and instantly shifts into caring mode. He kneels before you, taking the foot that you are grasping and gently lifting it up, pressing a cold compress to your wounds. While he was in the bathroom, he found a face cloth and dampened it, hoping the cooling sensation will somehow ease the pain you’re feeling.

He washes your feet with so much care that it makes your heart do a front flip, the feeling of someone looking after you is almost so foreign that your body doesn’t know how to take it. You could have guessed Heeseung was the caring type, what with how he offered to carry you until you found a place to rest or how he took your bag from your grasp so you had one less thing to worry about. He was so gentle that you mourn all the women who missed out on him because he was too shy.

After a few minutes of silence, Heeseung speaks up. “It’s impressive,” he states simply, keeping his eyes and hands on the task of easing your pain.

Tilting your head, you look at him quizically, “What is?”

“Being able to walk in heels. Particularly ones like those.” His head points to the devil shoes beside him, shuddering at even the thought of you having to put them back on at some point.

“I think you would look good in them, or maybe a pair of Mary Janes is more your style?” you laugh, albeit followed by a suppressed wince as he tries to press out a knot in the arch of your sole.

Heeseung cocks an eyebrow and scoffs. “You might as well give me a pair of stilts, I’d do a better job with them.”

The casual conversation is desperately needed, the tension in your bones slowly fading as you relax. There hasn’t been time to breathe or process anything that has happened, or even share a normal conversation with Heeseung, your minds too busy focusing on getting away with murder, so you welcome the moment to breathe.

Your feet are beginning to feel better, his magical touch is bringing the nerves in your feet back to a normal state. “You’re good at this,” you say fondly, admiring his work.

“One of my friends is a football player, he asks me to do this all the time for him,” he says, sharing a piece of his life with you.

“Was that the one on the phone when you called me?” 

“No, that was Jongseong. He would rather play guitar than play football,” he smiles, thinking of his friend. But that gleeful smile quickly fades into a sorrowful one as he remembers there is a high possibility that he will never see his best friend again.

The boy he has grown up with, the one he used to play basketball with at the park just by the rundown council estate, the scheme he used to call home. He won’t ever get to taste his cooking again or wear matching pyjamas on sleepover nights that they host because ‘it looks so much fun when girls do it’, and he certainly won’t get to hug him again when he needs someone to lean on; the boy is his saving grace and he can’t even speak to him about all of this. 

Heeseung’s breath shakes as he thinks about the implications of his actions. What if Jongseong sees him differently after all of this? Will he believe that it was all in self-defence? Surely after knowing one another for nearly 20 years would warrant some understanding or rationalising.

Quickly, Heeseung clears his throat and shakes his head, blinking back his tears as he stands up and avoids your eyes. You’re confused for a moment but then you observe the upset features and understand. You don’t have friends or family so talking about them would have little to no effect on you or your mind, but Heeseung must have had a bustling friend group and a supportive family, talking about Jongseong must have triggered something inside him, an awakening to the situation that you both find yourselves in.

Reaching out, you try to take his hand but he moves away before you can offer him any solace, heading towards the bathroom. “I’m…going to shower,” he informs you, already making his way to the mould and limescale-filled bathroom.

Unfortunately, the silence he has left in his wake now allows you to dwell in your own dark thoughts. Rather than what Heeseung is feeling regarding friends and family, you’re having to process the fact that while he will have people searching for him, clearing his name because he is ‘too sweet’ and ‘gentle’ to do such a thing, no one will bat an eyelid at you or your character.

You’re a sex worker with no real goals or aspirations, just trying your hardest to get by. No family because they’re either dead or won’t speak to you, the only friends you have are those in the brothel but they quietly distanced themselves once you left, envious of the independent life you chose while they work for half their earnings and have no such thing as flexibility to pick and choose.

When the news eventually breaks out, what will they say? ‘Prostitute Turned a Good Boy Bad in Sexual Murder Fantasy’? You’ll be pinned for all the blame but not for the right reason. Heeseung protected you by murdering that man, he has run away for you so you don’t get caught and charged. He could have gotten away with this, pleaded self-defence just like he said yet you’re the one that forced him to run with you for your selfish reasons.

This is all your fault.

As the weight of your situation crashes down on you, a tear escapes your glossy eyes. You catch it quickly, composing yourself before Heeseung returns. You are determined not to show your weak side too much in front of him; you have to be strong for both of you. God knows his kind and wholesome nature isn’t up for carrying the burdens that this journey will entail.

Hearing the water turn off, you quickly wipe your eyes and sit up straighter, putting on a brave face. It’s difficult to be tough in these situations but for your sanity and hit, you will have to.

Emerging from the shower, Heeseung is draped in a low-hanging towel, his toned tummy now fully visible to you for the first time. His skin is a delicious shade of honey and whiskey and the water droplets running from his chest to his pubic area make it look sweet and inviting. His muscles aren’t overly prominent but just enough to flex and reveal some veins, and his stature somehow looks longer, taller than when he is clothed.

You can’t help but admire the sight before you, feeling an involuntary tug of desire. The damp hair clings to his forehead, and the fresh scent of soap mingles with the steam still lingering from the shower. He looks almost ethereal in the dim light, a contrast to the grimy room surrounding you both.

Your mind drifts to a tantalising fantasy - crawling towards him, begging him to let you take his virginity right here on the filthy, stained bed. The thought sends a shiver down your spine but you know there is a time and a place for such thoughts, and now isn’t ideal. 

He pats some of the water from his left ear before shaking his hair like a dog coming in from the rain. Pushing his hair back, he catches you staring at him and immediately blushes, a tint of rose travelling from his neck to his cheeks.

“Sorry, I should have put my clothes back on,” he says bashfully, quickly retreating to the bathroom to grab his boxers. 

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and respond to his statement. “No, no. We only have one set of clothes each, so it’s best we don’t sleep in them for now,” you say, offering a pragmatic approach to the sleepwear arrangement. 

Taking off his shirt from your body, you stand up and hand it to him. “Thank you for letting me borrow this. I might need it again tomorrow though.” You walk over to him, handing the material back.

His eyes hover on your chest for a second before quickly looking away, careful not to meet your gaze or make eye contact with your erect nipples. Inside, his internal monologue is screaming at even the prospect of seeing your boobs again, but just like in the car, he wants to remain respectful.

You cock your head in surprise at his reaction, not understanding why he won’t even spare you a glance. Looking down at your bare chest, you inhale in understanding and let out a small, huffed laugh. “Heeseung, you were holding my tits not even 14 hours ago, you can look at them.”

“I know, but I still need to be respectful,” he replies, his eyes still not daring to look at any part of your body. It’s not that he doesn’t want to; it’s simply the fact that he wants you to feel comfortable. And how comfortable can a woman be with a man’s prying eyes all over her?

Heeseung might be the most considerate man you have ever met, so hearing him say even the word respect in your presence fills your heart with warmth.

“Do you want me to put it back on?” you ask, waving the shirt in his face. You also have to respect him, and if he’s uncomfortable with you being topless, you need to honour his wishes.

Those Bambi eyes come out once again as he shakes his head. “No, if you’re comfortable, then so am I.”

You smile at his genuine concern. The room’s dim light casts soft shadows on his face, accentuating his gentle features. “You really are something else, Heeseung. You’re so sweet,” you say softly, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence.

Heeseung’s blush deepens, and he shifts slightly, clearly not used to receiving compliments. “I just want you to feel safe,” he mumbles, his eyes still focused on anything but you.

“Thank you,” you reply sincerely. Reaching up to his cheek, you gently pull him to look at you. “I haven’t felt this safe in a long time.”

It’s true. Sure, you might have the police on your trail by now and there is no working lock on the motel room door, but with Heeseung, you feel protected, even if just emotionally. And as Heeseung leans into your touch, you know he feels the same.

If there was anyone to be in this nightmare with, you’re glad it’s him.

“Why don’t we go to bed?” you suggest, pinching his cheek ever so slightly before removing your hand from his face. His cheek wishes to follow you, to keep the heat and easement of its touch, the cold air from the draught now washing over him uncomfortably but that could be due to the fact that he is still only in a towel.

“You don’t want to shower? It might help your feet,” the boy suggests.

“No, I just…I need to rest right now.” The thought of going in for a shower and spending any more time on your feet makes your skin crawl. You’ll shower in the morning but right now, you need to lie down and drift out of this nightmare, even if only for a couple of hours.

Heeseung nods, trying to muster a smile despite the obvious discomfort from the chill and the situation. He stands, turning away slightly to hide his lingering embarrassment as he slips into his boxers, leaving his upper body bare. He twists to turn the overhead light off and makes his way to the uncomfortable bed.

You, meanwhile, pull the blanket up and over your shoulders, creating a small cocoon of warmth and a barrier between your tits and his eyes, just in case he overheats at the sight of them in his face. As you settle in, you can’t help but glance at Heeseung, his body now framed by the dim light of the moonlight and his ass is just peachy enough to make you want to grab it. He slips under the blanket beside you before your mind can wander away once again, careful to maintain a respectful distance.

The bed is small, forcing you both closer than you might have intended but the shared warmth is a welcome relief from the chill. You can hear the steady rhythm of Heeseung’s breathing, a sound that somehow manages to soothe your frayed nerves. He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours and you offer him a reassuring smile.

Heeseung can’t help but admire your beauty, your eyes that speak of the strong woman you are, how you have handled yourself so well throughout all of this, and yet he can still see the vulnerability in your pupils. He believes that there isn’t a woman as beautiful as you in this entire world and he wishes under different circumstances things could be different for both of you.

With a trembling hand, he reaches to push the strayed hairs from your face, a caring gesture that your heart isn’t acquainted with. His fingertips ghost your forehead so lightly that a butterfly could do more damage. You smile and find your body melting, even if only slightly, caving into the comfort.

He smiles back at you, a little more confident in his touch once he sees you visibly at ease. He won’t let you know how much his heart is racing or how the water from his back is out of nervous sweating and not the lukewarm shower he just took. He is nervous to even be in this bed with you, yet he knows you don’t need to hear about that right now, you just need someone to lean on and Heeseung will make damn sure to be that person for you.

“Heeseung?” 

“Hmm?”

“I’m really sorry,” you begin, voice breaking a tiny bit as you apologise to him. “This is all my fault and I dragged you into this mess. You should be sitting that exam on Monday and you sure as fuck shouldn’t be with me in this shithole of a motel, god knows how far away from home.”

Your words make Heeseung’s heart break, the cracks allowing his empathy to seep through into his touch. His hand cups your face, his thumb gently stroking the apples of your cheeks, each caress a silent kiss of reassurance.

“Y/N, you couldn’t have known all of this was going to happen,” he says softly, his voice laced with sympathy. He knows you’ll shoulder the blame, even though you never asked for the brute of a man to almost murder you.

Your hand covers his, and you clasp it, bringing it to rest between you both. “I think I did, in some way. He didn’t take it very well when I told him to shove his money and never come back.” The memory of the man’s red-clad face and angry words winces in your chest as you speak.

“What did he do? Did he…hurt you?” Heeseung swallows the last part of the sentence, already aware of the horrors that can happen in your line of work. His heart sinks into his stomach as you sit in silence, contemplating what to tell him. Part of him wishes he hadn’t asked, fearing the confirmation that the man’s earlier attack wasn’t his first attempt to harm you. Heeseung might have approached this life with pure intentions, but he knows other men certainly do not.

You look down at your interlocked hands and squeeze his fingers tightly. “He was a nice guy at first, paid well and always respected my boundaries. Then one day, he asked me to do something I wasn’t comfortable with, almost forcing me to,” you choke back the tear-filled lump in your throat and close your eyes, the memory overwhelming you. You haven’t spoken out loud about what happened, making it difficult to process emotionally.

Seeing you struggle internally, Heeseung brings your hand to his mouth and kisses it softly, taking a leaf from Sunghoon’s book in an attempt to console you. The meaning behind his gesture compared to the drivers is vastly different and you can even feel it in how tenderly his lips press on your knuckles. 

There is a rumble in your chest as you look at Heeseung who is staring back at you with a shy grin, hoping that his attempt to comfort you has worked. Somehow, it has, and the tears that threatened to spill now make their way back to the ducts as you blink them away. It’s amazing how quickly a simple comforting touch can change the direction of your emotions. As quickly as you want to break down and succumb to the negative emotions, Heeseung has turned the plane around into overwhelming thankfulness. 

Breathing in, you compose yourself again and return his smile. “Thank you. I’m really okay,” liar, “I’m just…sorry I got you into this mess and took you away from your friends and family.”

"Hey, stop apologising. This is no one’s fault but that scum of a dickhead,” Heeseung replies almost instantly, not giving you a chance to take the blame any longer.

You unclasp your hand from his and tuck his long hair behind his ear. His face instantly reddens at the intimate action, the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks. How he swallows dryly and closes his eyes to calm himself down makes you giggle. “You really haven’t been around girls, have you?” you ask with one eyebrow raised, genuinely curious. You believe him, but you also don’t understand how someone so attractive and kind-hearted has gone 22 years without catching the interest of even one girl.

“No, I haven’t,” he admits, his voice matter-of-fact. But as he sees your eyes urging him to elaborate, he continues, “You’re all just so amazing and beautiful that even thinking about you all puts me in a cold sweat. Every time I talk to a girl, I stutter.”

“Well, with how sweet you are and how big your cock is, you’re doing my kind a disservice here,” you chuckle and he soon follows, although his titter is one filled with nerves due to you mentioning his cock, never mind complimenting it. 

Even this subtle moment of laughter eases the sadness that engulfs the small, suffocating room. Your body relaxes instantly as you share the tender moment, the worries subsiding if only for a few seconds. You truly believe that with Heeseung here with you, there might be a white light at the end of the tunnel.

“We will get through this, yeah?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly, betraying the nerves beneath your bravado.

Heeseung, lying beside you, feels an overwhelming rush of emotion at your words. The term ‘we’ makes his knees buckle and his body melt, even in his reclined position. The idea that you are now a ‘we’ fills him with a strange pride; it feels right. In the midst of the chaos and uncertainty, this newly formed bond with you is the one thing that makes sense.

Taking your hand gently, he brings it up from under the covers, the warmth of your touch grounding him. He holds out his pinky, a simple yet powerful gesture of solidarity, and intertwines it with yours. “Together,” he murmurs, his voice steady and filled with conviction for the first time since you met.

You squeeze his pinky, conveying a depth of emotion that words cannot. The weight of the world still presses down on you both but in this moment you feel a sense of unity and strength that gives you hope.

Heeseung's gaze softens as he looks at you, his eyes reflecting the unspoken promises and shared resolve between you. “We’ll face whatever comes,” he continues, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. We’ll find a way through this.”

A lump forms in your throat, deeply moved by his sincerity. “Thank you, Heeseung,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For everything.”

You lean forward and press a tender kiss to his lips, shocking him still before he responds. His lips are soft and warm against yours, and you can feel the initial surprise melt into a gentle acceptance. He moves his lips timidly against your gentle motions, embracing your bottom lip between his. When you pull back, your foreheads rest against each other, and you can feel his breath, a soft, comforting rhythm against your skin.

Heeseung's eyes flutter open, filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness. “Y/N,” he breathes, his voice low. “I... I don’t....”

“I won’t charge you for that one, don’t worry,” you joke, eyes shrinking in size as you smile at him with adoration. 

“You can add it to my bill,” he jabs back, the ease between you both settling softly in his heart. He’s in this with you for however long you can both keep running; he’ll never run out of breath with you by his side.

You both settle back down, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with you. As you lie there, facing one another, the connection between you creates a sanctuary, a haven amid the storm..

“Goodnight, Heeseung,” you murmur, your eyes closing as sleep begins to pull you under.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replies softly, pressing another nervous gentle kiss to your forehead, hoping you don’t mind it. “Sweet dreams.”

_____

It has been three days since you and Heeseung embarked on this desperate journey. The days blur together into a surreal montage of fleeting rides in strangers’ cars, restless nights spent in makeshift shelters, and scavenging through lost and found bins for essentials. The denim booty shorts were a tight fit, the crop top strained against your curves, and the trainers were a comically mismatched pair that made walking more of a challenge than usual. But they were clothes and that counted for something; you’re just thankful to keep your heels firmly off your feet.

On the plus side, the witch hunt hasn’t caught up with you yet. There have been no news articles or TV broadcasts with your faces plastered on them, which means the authorities are probably still focusing their search on your home city. Maybe they think you’re hiding out somewhere familiar, not realising you’ve already slipped away. There’s also a slight comfort in knowing you’re not their top priority, what with a lunatic serial killer on the loose taking up most of their attention. The murder of a local cheater seems low on their list, giving you a small, but temporary, reprieve.

But you can’t afford to get too comfortable. It’s only a matter of time before they widen their search and your faces become recognisable as wanted criminals. Every day, you wake up with a jolt, wondering if today will be the day they catch up to you. Fear is a constant companion.

You’ve settled into a rough routine. By day, you move from place to place, never staying too long in one spot. By night, you find whatever shelter you can and try to get some rest. Sleep doesn’t come easy, not with the constant worry of being found, but having Heeseung beside you helps. You take turns keeping watch and your trust in each other grows stronger with each passing day.

There’s an unspoken bond between you now, forged by the hardships you’ve faced together. You’ve seen each other at your lowest, your most vulnerable, and yet there’s a strength in that vulnerability. You’ve learned to rely on each other in ways you never thought possible, and it’s this reliance that keeps you going, even when everything else seems bleak.

Heeseung has also gotten over the virgin nerves and talks to you casually, the stuttering and awkward glances to you now significantly less.However, his newfound ease doesn’t extend to other girls. One driver you hitched a ride from was a beautiful brunette with tanned skin and tattoos along her neck. At first, you thought he might have been nervous due to her rugged appearance, but that was quickly debunked when you caught him fumbling over his sentences, even when she asked for something as simple as his name. He was clearly taken aback by her beauty. You can't help but slightly miss how he used to be like that around you, though you have more pressing concerns at the moment.

As you both approach a convenience store, you turn to Heeseung. "Do we have enough money to buy ciggies?"

Heeseung sighs, shaking his head. "No, we don’t. We used the last £2 we had on the bottles of water and that pack of Opal Fruits," he replies, the defeat in his voice palpable. The thought of no more delicious fruit-flavoured cubed treats to munch on for a burst of energy or to get the taste of dehydration from his mouth makes him want to whine out like a displeased child.

The convenience store is a small, rundown building with flickering lights. As you step inside, the smell of stale bread and cleaning detergent hits you. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare on the faded linoleum floor. You glance around, hoping to find something cheap enough to stave off your hunger, but your pockets are painfully empty.

Heeseung starts browsing the shelves, his eyes lingering on the snacks and drinks you can't afford. You both know stealing isn’t an option - not between Heeseung’s morals and the possibility that getting caught could mean the end of your freedom. Still, the gnawing hunger and the need for a smoke make it hard to ignore the tempting sight of cigarettes behind the counter.

You notice Heeseung's gaze fixed on a pack of Hobnob biscuits, his expression is a mix of longing and resignation. “Maybe we can find some loose change outside,” he suggests half-heartedly, already knowing it’s a long shot. None of you have found even 20p in all the time you’ve been walking.

The shopkeeper, a grumpy-looking old man with glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, eyes you both suspiciously, your raggy clothes and dishevelled appearance enough to put any shop owner on high alert. You try to ignore the weight of his stare, feeling more like fugitives with each passing second.

"Let's just go," you mutter, pulling Heeseung towards the door. "We'll figure something out."

Outside, the scorching sun beats down relentlessly, turning the air into a furnace that makes your skin tingle and your clothes cling uncomfortably. There’s not much around besides the convenience store, a few gas pumps, and an old, forgotten bus stop that provides a meagre shelter from the blistering heat. Exhausted and desperate, you flop down onto the narrow seat of the bus stop, letting out a sigh of relief tinged with despair.

Resting your head against the plastic shelter, you shield your eyes from the glaring sun with your hand. In a swift move, Heeseung positions himself in front of you, casting a cool shadow that eases the strain on your eyes. The reprieve is brief but welcome in this sweltering heat.

While taking a moment to catch your breath, something catches your eye - a flyer hanging askew on the bus stop wall. It flutters in the hot breeze, its edges worn and corners curling from exposure to the elements. You reach out and grab it, fingers brushing against the weathered paper. Despite its faded appearance, the bold, colourful graphics are still discernible, and your heart skips a beat as you read the headline:

“Saturn Club: Where the Stars Align for a Stellar Time.”

Your eyes widen as you scan the flyer. It's an advertisement for a local strip club, promising quick cash for performers. The advert is as though it was made for you, what with all the countless times you’ve had to do strip teases for clients.

"Heeseung, look at this," you say, handing him the flyer with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "There is a strip club not far from here!” you exclaim. Never in your life did you think you would be so happy to see a strip club in rundown Britain, yet, it might as well be a casino in Vegas for you both right now. 

Taking the poster from your hand, Heeseung inspects it carefully and his brows furrow in contemplation between concern and pragmatic consideration. “Y/N, this…are you sure? The men at these places can get pretty handsy.”

“I’m a sex worker, Heeseung, all I know is handsy,” you laugh, still elated by the idea of earning enough money to survive even just a little longer. “It’s only one night and the least I ever made was £300.”

Heeseung sighs, torn between his protective instincts and the harsh reality of your current situation. The thought of you subjected to the leering eyes and groping hands of strangers doesn't sit well with him, but he knows you both need the money urgently, and he can’t exactly argue that £300, or even £50, wouldn’t do you both the world of good.

"We need the money," you add softly, seeing the turmoil in his eyes. "And right now, this might be our best shot. Let me do this."

Heeseung nods reluctantly, handing the flyer back to you. "Okay, if this is what we have to do," his voice is tinged with resignation. Deep down, he wishes there were another way, a safer way for you to earn the cash you need.

“You need to sell me though,” you say, already trying to fix your hair in the reflection of the shelter window panes.

Tilting his head, he looks at you quizzically. “What the hell do you mean ‘sell’ you.”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before explaining. "I mean, I have to look appealing, desirable. These places thrive on attraction, Heeseung. Men only want what they think is in high demand," you say earnestly, meeting his concerned gaze. "So I need you to present me to the owner, assuming it's a man. Tell him that I'm highly wanted all over South London. That should seal the deal."

Wanted was not an intentional word choice but technically then, Heeseung wasn’t lying. You technically are wanted.

“You mean you want me to pimp you out?” he gasps, clutching onto your bag with might as he fathoms the idea. He doesn’t want to ‘sell’ you, he wants you to go in there, sit on a few laps and then dip.

But when he looks into your pleading eyes, he knows there is no point in arguing with you. You’re going to that club whether he likes it or not, he might as well support you, protect you. Although he doesn’t know if he’ll be any use, you do a damn good job at that all on your own.

Heeseung takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Alright," he says, his voice more resolute. "Let's do this. But I'll be right there with you, okay? I'm not leaving your side for a second."

“Good, you can watch me in action,” you smile, winking as you begin the walk to the sleazy club.

_____

After a twenty-minute walk and Heeseung running his fingers through your hair to make it look presentable, you both stand outside Saturn strip club. The sign above the entrance flickers with an image of a planet and rings, casting an ethereal blue and orange glow that adds to the futuristic atmosphere. Despite it being only late afternoon, the music is already blaring, and the car park is packed with vehicles, a testament to the club's popularity; which means more money for you and Heeseung.

Grabbing your hand, Heeseung pulls you back before you head to the bouncer, causing you to whip around. His iris’ gleam with apprehension as he eyes you one last time. “If anyone touches you or does something you don’t like, give me a signal and I’ll be the first one there,” he says calmly, though his voice box shakes slightly. It’s one thing to imagine you in an uncomfortable predicament, but somehow knowing he is benefiting from this too makes him feel queasy.

You squeeze his hand reassuringly, the warmth of his touch grounding you. “I promise, you’ll be the first I run to,” you say, offering him a wide grin to ease his nerves. You want him to know that you’re ready for whatever lies behind those black double doors.

Heeseung nods, taking a deep breath as he lets you go. The bouncer gives you a brief nod and opens the door, letting you both step inside the entrance area of the club. The interior is even more dazzling than you anticipated, with laser lights cutting through artificial smoke, creating an atmosphere that feels otherworldly. You wouldn’t think it was broad daylight outside, so much so you have to adjust your eyes.

An eager host comes up to greet you, her eyes already trained on Heeseung only. She is gorgeous, more beautiful than you could ever imagine being which makes you wonder how on earth she ended up in a place like this. 

You take her in, unable to resist admiring her curves in the skimpy outfit she clearly chose to maximise tips. She is adorned in white leather, her bra providing minimal coverage and accentuating her cleavage. Pastel pink buckles run along the seams of the cups, matching the pretty pink buckled collar around her neck. The bottom half of her outfit is equally provocative: a white leather thong, complemented by pink straps on either side of her hips. Her thighs are wrapped in matching buckled straps that draw your gaze directly to the intricate cherry blossom tattoo on her thigh. The overall effect is mesmerising, her outfit both alluring and carefully crafted to captivate attention.

And attention she has gained, particularly from your tall companion, whose mouth hangs open as he twists his neck, a telltale sign of his overstimulation. The girl places her hands on his chest, rubbing his pecs slightly, her touch both confident and teasing. Heeseung's eyes widen, his breath hitching as he tries to process the sudden intimacy. The girl smirks, clearly enjoying the effect she has on him, her fingers tracing gentle patterns over his shirt.

"What's your name, handsome?" she purrs, her voice low and sultry.

Heeseung stammers, trying to find his voice. "H-Heeseung," he finally manages to say, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. He thinks you’re beautiful - no, he knows you’re beautiful. But this girl is like something off the VHS tapes he keeps under his bed. Her full lips and honey-toned skin are enough to send him into overdrive, never mind how good her touch feels.

“Pretty name, I’m Mars,” she whispers, looking up at him with innocent yet deadly eyes.

“Like the p-planet?” he stutters. He had thought he got over this - speaking with you so freely, seeing your body more times than he could have ever imagined. It was easy with you. But now this girl, Mars, had booked him a ticket right back into Loserville.

Giggling, she pushes her chest into his, bringing her lips to his ear. “Yeah, like the planet. Do you want to explore it, baby?” Her teeth nibble slightly at his lobe and he swears he starts to hear colours as his cock leaps for joy.

The sultry invitation has Heeseung frozen in place, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and sensations. He's completely out of his depth, his body betraying him as he tries to maintain some semblance of composure. His breath comes in shallow gasps, and he struggles to form coherent words.

You watch as Mars absolutely devours Heeseung’s ability to do anything, and jealousy spikes inside you. Are you envious of the way she makes him feel? Absolutely, and you’re doing a poor job of hiding it. Your face twists in disgust as you glare at the girl, feeling a pang of possessiveness.

“Mars? Hi,” you say, tapping her shoulder with exaggerated politeness. “We’re actually here to see your manager. I need a job.” Your tone is sharp and direct, devoid of any negative emotions toward the hardworking girl. It’s not her fault she’s pining over Heeseung - who wouldn’t? But it doesn’t make it sting any less just because you understand she has a job to do and that your partner in crime is insanely attractive and innocent.

Mars blinks, momentarily taken aback by your interruption. She recovers quickly, though, flashing you a fake professional smile. “Of course, babe. Follow me,” she says, stepping away from Heeseung and giving you a small nod of acknowledgment.

You follow Mars through the club, feeling Heeseung's presence close behind you, his hand constantly on your back for assurance, for him more so than you. The music grows louder as you weave through the throng of patrons, the air thick with the scent of perfume and sweat. Neon lights cast an otherworldly glow on the scene, dancers moving with hypnotic grace under the cosmic-themed decorations.

Reaching a door marked "Manager," Mars knocks lightly before pushing it open. “Boss, I’ve got someone here who’s interested in a job,” she announces, stepping aside to let you and Heeseung enter. 

Before Mars shuts the door behind her, she lets her hand trail down Heeseung’s arm, creating a fleeting contact that sends a shiver over his body. “Come find me when you’re done here, hmm? I’ll take you to the stars,” she whispers with a sultry smile, her words hanging in the air like a promise.

Heeseung audibly gulps, caught off guard by Mars’s bold flirtation. His cheeks flush pink as he nods in response, his movements almost automatic under her gaze. Mars gives him a knowing smile before finally closing the door, leaving you and Heeseung alone with the club manager.

The manager, a stern-looking man with a grizzled beard and piercing eyes, studies you both intently. He gestures for you to take a seat opposite his desk, the room lit dimly by a solitary desk lamp that casts deep shadows across his face.

“So, you’re looking for a job as a dancer?” he asks, his voice gruff yet measured.

“Yes, just for tonight,” you reply, in hopes that it sweetens the deal. “Heeseung will tell you, I’ve done this gig before, tell him.” You pinch Heeseung’s elbow to get him out of his Mars-like trance and he stands to attention, nodding eagerly.

The manager sits forward, waiting to hear Heeseung’s pitch, stroking his beard as he assesses the nervous boy in front of him. Nudging him forward, you look at Heeseung with desperation. It’s humiliating, having to rely on a man to get you work but that’s the business in this day in age. Perhaps one day, women will be able to take the reigns of sex work and enjoy the industry freely without judgment or men involved.

Heeseung shifts nervously, feeling the weight of his words as he describes you to the manager. "Y/N, she is uh…" He pauses, searching for the right thing to say that will convey admiration without making you uncomfortable. "She’s gorgeous, more beautiful than any of the women you have here already," he continues earnestly, his cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "Her body is to die for, seriously. She’s got curves in all the right places, and there’s this cute little freckle on her ass, like a beauty mark. And her smile…she can pull you in so easily with it."

The honesty in his voice shocks you a little and melts your heart all the same. He’s talking about your body but not once did he make you feel like a piece of meat, his words oddly sending a fleet of butterflies to your stomach. His cheeks tinted rosé only add to the sincerity of his words, showing that he's not accustomed to vocalising such thoughts openly. It's clear he's navigating unfamiliar territory, trying his best to convey his admiration without crossing any boundaries.

“Okay, enough lovey-dovey shit. Turn around for me, Princess,” the manager's gruff directive breaks the tender moment, pulling you sharply back into the stark reality of the strip club's business. His blunt manner contrasts sharply with Heeseung's earlier sincerity, reminding you of the transactional nature of this environment. Swallowing your discomfort, you comply with his request, turning slowly as instructed.

"I have my own lingerie and I can dance to any music," you assert, trying to negotiate terms that will give you some control over the situation. Your eyes plead with him, hoping to strike a balance between earning your keep and maintaining a semblance of autonomy. “I’ll give you 10% of my tips, directly to you, not including the commission from private dances.”

Now that makes the man's ears perk up. Clasping his hands and rubbing them together, the sound mimicking that of two sandpapers, he nods. “Start now. 10% fees and your boyfriend stays away from you.”

"Deal!" you exclaim, relief flooding through you at the prospect of securing work for the night. The excitement in your voice is genuine, tempered by the grim reality of your circumstances. You know there are far better things to be enthusiastic about than exposing yourself for money, but the promise of earning enough for basic needs like a hot meal and a decent bed feels like a small victory in this moment of desperation.

You grasp Heeseung's hand firmly as you exit the manager's office, eager to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere and find some privacy to prepare for your unexpected performance. The hallway is dimly lit, the walls adorned with faded posters advertising past events at the club, their colours muted under the flickering red lights.

"Heeseung, come on," you urge, your voice a hushed whisper tinged with urgency. You guide him down the narrow corridor, following the manager's directions to the dressing room where you can change into the lingerie you brought along. “Can you pass me my bag?” you ask, already shedding the clothes that have clung to you for far too long.

You don’t miss the thongs or the bra, but god did you hate the clothes you were stuck with.

Heeseung nods, silently searching in the bag. His brow furrows slightly as he retrieves your heels, recalling the pain you endured on your first night on the run. Next, he carefully pulls out the baby blue lingerie, decorated with delicate lace details and dainty white bows. Fortunately, you had packed a garter belt and matching fishnet stockings, adding a touch of allure to the ensemble. This was the outfit meant for your most generous client, designed to be slowly peeled away piece by piece to maximise his enjoyment.

Turning to Heeseung, you take the outfit and begin to dress yourself. He feels a pang of discomfort on your behalf, averting his eyes as you start to remove your denim shorts and underwear. He catches himself thinking about how much he’s seen of you and vice versa, how much you’ve shared on this chaotic journey together. Perhaps you are closer than he initially realised, having been through so much in such a short period. Yet, he respects your privacy and understands there are parts of you that should remain yours alone.

As you adjust the lingerie, ensuring everything fits just right, you steal a glance at Heeseung. His cheeks are flushed, and he shifts awkwardly, clearly grappling with conflicting emotions. “Heeseung, how do I look?”

His heart skips a beat at your question, grateful for the permission to openly admire you. You look even more beautiful than the day he first met you, the soft blue hue of the lingerie complementing your skin perfectly. The garters and fishnet stockings add an allure that both excites and unsettles him, stirring desires he’s tried to suppress amidst the chaos of your circumstances.

“Well?” you prompt, twirling gracefully, a playful smile dancing on your lips. His breath catches as he watches you spin, a sight that simultaneously ignites a fierce longing and a protective instinct.

“You look… stunning,” he manages, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity. “Ready.”

He tacks on the last word to offer you more than a mere compliment; it’s a declaration of ability, a reassurance that you’re prepared for whatever lies ahead. Despite the ache in his chest and the turmoil in his mind, Heeseung’s smile remains steadfast.

You meet his gaze, gratitude reflected in your features. His encouragement steadies you, reminding you that despite the circumstances, you are more than capable of taking control of your destiny tonight. You are Y/N L/N, and you can do this.

“Thank you, Heeseung,” you say softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. His touch grounds you, a tangible anchor in the stormy sea of uncertainties that surrounds you both. “I’ll try and make as much money as I can.”

“And if anyone makes you uncomfortable—”

“Call to you, I know,” you finish his sentence with a sheepish smile, not accustomed to being under someone’s protective watch but grateful for it nonetheless. You lean in and place a gentle kiss on his cheek, feeling a sense of ease knowing he’s there for you.

With a final nod and a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you turn towards the door leading back into the club. The music pulses louder now, beckoning you into the atmosphere of flashing lights and swirling bodies. Adjusting your mindset and your bra strap, you step forward, ready to face the night.

_____

Four hours later, Heeseung remains firmly planted in the same velvet-covered seat, his nerves fraying with each passing minute. The club is now teeming with activity, a veritable circus of swirling bodies, flashing lights, and pounding music. Businessmen in expensive suits mingle with scantily-clad dancers, the scent of perfume and cologne blending into a heady cocktail that fills the air.

Heeseung's leg bounces incessantly, a physical manifestation of his anxiety. He's on edge, eyes darting around the room, trying to avoid making eye contact with the dancers who occasionally drift his way. Each time, he mumbles a polite yet firm, "Not here for that," and though some of the girls give him puzzled or slightly annoyed looks, they leave him alone, recognising a dry well when they see one.

His mind keeps drifting back to you, wondering how you're holding up. The thought of you out there, flaunting your body for money, makes his stomach churn, but he knows there's no other choice. You need this, and he has to be strong for you. He can’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, each tick of the second hand stretching his patience thinner.

Despite his tension, each time you return from a private dance, your presence alone is enough to soothe his tempered nerves momentarily. Your face is a beacon in the dim, neon-lit haze, glowing with a mixture of triumph and exhaustion. You shoot him a gleeful smile and a thumbs up, your eyes sparkling with excitement and relief, signalling that you're making a decent amount of money.

Heeseung feels a mixture of pride and concern. Pride because you're handling this so well, dancing with grace and charm, turning a dire situation into an opportunity. Concern because he knows the toll this must be taking on you, physically and emotionally. Each time you disappear into the back rooms, he holds his breath, praying silently for your safety.

His focus is jarred back to the present as a particularly loud group of businessmen settles into the seats next to him. Their raucous laughter and crude jokes only amplify his discomfort. He shifts in his seat, trying to block out their conversation, but their words seep through, unfortunately. This is just one of the times he wishes that he had a backbone and could tell them to stop being derogatory but he’s already on a boat without a paddle in this place and if he gets kicked out then he can’t be here for you, so he sits quietly and focuses on your upcoming performance.

You’ve done so well over the past couple of hours that the manager has given you the go-ahead for a special 'one night only' stage performance. This is where the punters can throw as much or as little money as they want, as long as the club gets half of your earnings. In Heeseung’s mind, it’s not worth the effort, but you know even with the cut, you could easily make at least £200 from this one dance alone.

Heeseung’s anxiety spikes as the announcement is made, attention from everyone in Saturn is now glued to the stage. However, just as he is about to get comfy, he’s barely settled back into his velvet seat when suddenly, there’s a weight on his lap - unfamiliar but not unpleasant. His heart skips a beat and he tenses.

Looking down, he finds Mars, the sultry hostess from earlier, perched comfortably on his thighs. Her perfume envelops him, a heady mix of vanilla and spice that adds to his already heightened senses. She smiles seductively, her eyes glinting with mischief as she twirls a lock of her hair around her finger.

“You looked a little lonely,” she observes, her eyes trailing up and down his body. She brings a shot glass to his face. “Here, have a drink on me, you seem a bit dehydrated.”

“I-I don’t drink, sorry,” Heeseung stammers awkwardly, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the stage as he waits for you to appear. He isn’t exactly uncomfortable in her presence, but he doesn’t know what to do. Talking to women is still an issue for him, so what is he to do now that Aphrodite’s daughter is on his lap and showing him interest?

Mars giggles and shoots the shot of tequila back herself, shrugging as she places the glass on the table in front of them. “You’re a good boy, huh?”

Heeseung shifts nervously, his hands resting awkwardly on the sides of the chair in a desperate attempt not to touch her. "I just...don't really drink," he explains, his voice barely audible over the swell of the music.

Mars leans in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "That's okay," she whispers, her tone playful yet reassuring. "I like good boys."

Heeseung's cheeks flush even deeper, his mind a chaotic whirl of emotions. He's trying to focus on the stage, waiting for your performance to start, but Mars's proximity and the beautiful tone of her voice are incredibly distracting. He wishes he had the confidence to brush her off more assertively, but he's too polite and too nervous to do anything but sit there, stiff as a board.

The first few notes of ‘I Touch Myself’ by Divinyls send a shiver down his spine, and his attention is immediately captured. The stage lights dim, creating an atmosphere of anticipation. Then, you step into the spotlight. The transformation is immediate; you move with confidence and grace that mesmerises everyone in the room, including Heeseung.

The baby blue lingerie hugs your curves perfectly, the lace and bows adding an innocent allure to your otherwise sultry appearance. The garter and fishnets complete the look, drawing appreciative murmurs and wolf whistles from the crowd.

Mars shifts slightly, pressing closer to Heeseung in an attempt to lure his attention away from you, but he’s too engrossed in your performance to pay her much attention. You meet his gaze briefly, and the connection is electric. Your smile, despite the suggestive dance, is warm and genuine, a silent reassurance that you’re okay, in fact, you’re enjoying yourself.

You didn’t get the chance to perform like this much at your old job, in front of a crowd and void of clammy hands roaming all over your body. It was a nice change to just perform and feel comfortable. The clients here are actually quite respectful, each of the men you’ve taken for a private dance has only asked for what’s on the menu and nothing more. They’ve respected your boundaries, which is more than you can say for the men you usually encounter in your line of work.

This dance wasn’t even necessary in terms of making money; you have made more than enough for you and Heeseung to get by for at least a week. But as you look at Heeseung, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you despite the eager house girl doing everything in her power to grab his attention, you feel even happier you decided to do this.

There is no denying in your mind that you’ve grown fond of Heeseung, maybe you like him even a little bit, so to have him captivated like this is boosting your ego and putting an extra beat in your step. He isn’t your boyfriend or lover but he makes you feel content like one should.

That probably explains the jealousy creeping up in you. Despite his avoidance of the girl touching his chest and arms, you can’t help but feel like that should be you, that you should be the one to have him squirming and swallowing thickly as you whisper sensual words in his ear.

Why do you feel like this all of a sudden? Maybe due to the fact that it’s the first time you’ve seen him with a girl since you’ve known him and it’s bringing a protective instinct out in you, maybe it’s because you see him as more than the partner in crime you keep painting him to be.

Whatever the reason, you can’t stand by and watch it happen any longer.

Despite the manager's warning for Heeseung to stay away, you can't help but devise a plan to draw him away from Mars while also delivering an unforgettable performance for the eager men ready to spend their money. Determined to keep Heeseung's attentiveness and secure a hefty tip from the men beside hin, you approach the pole with calculated confidence.

Gripping the cool, polished metal, you begin your routine with a graceful twist, your body moving fluidly. As you spin, your leg wraps around the pole, securing you in a seamless motion. Your movements are deliberate and skilled, every turn and twirl executed with precision. The pole becomes an extension of your body, allowing you to showcase your strength and agility.

Using the momentum, you propel yourself into a daring inversion, your legs splitting elegantly as you hold yourself upside down. The crowd's cheers and whistles grow louder, their excitement palpable. The money flows your way with ease, but your focus is on a bigger prize.

You glance over at Heeseung, seeing him mesmerised, his eyes locked on you. The sight spurs you on, and you walk to the edge of the stage, elongating your legs and exaggerating each movement, your gaze never leaving his. You bend down slowly, getting on your hands and knees, crawling across the stage with the slow, sleek grace of a lioness stalking her prey. Tonight, your prey is Lee Heeseung.

And fuck, does he know it.

Heeseung sits up straight, his eyes glued to yours as you draw him in, smiling at him half innocently, half predatorily. His reaction causes Mars to stumble off his lap, forcing her to catch herself on the arm of the chair. He doesn’t mean to cause the disruption and should rightfully apologise, but all he sees is you. It's as if you're casting a spell on him, and as you beckon him forward with the curl of your finger, he stands up like a mindless zombie, following your request without hesitation.

Your seductive crawl leaves the audience in awe and the anticipation in the room heightens, you can feel the collective breaths being held. As Heeseung approaches the stage, the connection between you two becomes electric, a tangible force that captivates everyone watching.

You reach out, taking his hand and guiding him up onto the stage. The crowd's whistles and catcalls reach a fever pitch, but all that matters is the look in Heeseung's eyes, a mixture of awe, desire, and something deeper. This is your moment, and you savour every second of it, knowing that you've not only captivated the audience but also claimed Heeseung's undivided attention.

Pushing him gently so his back is against the stripper pole, you smile at him softly. “Just enjoy it, yeah?” you murmur, your voice a seductive purr that sends goosebumps all over his skin. He nods quickly, trying to ignore the sweat trickling down his forehead as he attempts to relax, however, the strain of his cock tingling in his boxers is proving it rather difficult.

You begin to sway in front of him, your hands splayed across his chest, moving them slowly downward past his stomach and hips. Hooking your fingers into his belt loops, you sit back on your heels, looking up at him through your long lashes. The crowd is mesmerised, their attention entirely on you, wondering what you plan to do next and wishing it was going to happen to them.

With a fluid motion, you rise and turn your back to Heeseung, pressing yourself against him as you grind slowly. The sensation of your body moving against his is almost too much for him to handle, and he clenches his fists to maintain some semblance of control. If he pops a boner in front of at least 30 grown men and the dancers, he might just die on the spot. You glance over your shoulder, catching his gaze and giving him a playful wink. 

Heeseung’s eyes widen as you slink your hands down your body and to your thigh, slipping off one of your garters, the lacy fabric sliding down your leg with ease. You twirl it in your fingers, dangling it in front of the shocked boy’s face before wrapping it around his wrists. He watches, transfixed, as you skillfully tie his hands behind the pole, effectively rendering him unable to touch you. The act is both tantalising and torturous for him, his desire evident in the way his body tenses and legs shuffle to find any sort of distraction from his throbbing cock.

Addressing the audience, you wag your finger playfully, utilising your drama skills from the youth centre to emphasise that the bound man can't lay a finger on you, much to the delight of the eager crowd.

You continue your dance with hypnotic grace, the fabric keeping Heeseung firmly restrained. Your hands explore your curves, accentuating every movement, while the lyrics echo the theme of self-indulgence, allowing you to lose yourself in the performance.

Turning away from the audience, you unclasp your bra, your back now fully exposed. The crowd's eegerness grows as you slowly let the straps slide off your shoulders. With a flick of your wrist, you toss the bra aside, eliciting cheers and whistles from the captivated onlookers.

Your eyes are fixed on Heeseung as you approach the finale of the routine, striding towards him with confident allure. “You’re doing so good for me, baby,” you purr, the affectionate nickname slipping out so naturally that it momentarily stuns him. Yet, the look in his eyes tells you he’s far from displeased. 

With a few grinds and touches to Heeseung, the routine comes to an end and you face your adoring fans, the money showering onto the stage in notes of £10s and £20s. You smile and blow kisses to some of the men, bouncing slightly to make your tits clap, earning you a few more whistles and cheers. 

Striding back to Heeseung, you untie the garter from his wrists and pull him to the back, both of your chests heaving in exhilaration. 

“Oh my god, Heeseung! I couldn’t even see the floor for money,” you exclaim, clapping in excitement. With the private dances and your most recent performance, you’ve easily earned over £500, enough for a warm meal and then some.

Heeseung looks at you, smiling shyly, hoping you don’t notice the bulge forming in his trousers. He’s never encountered anyone like you before and can hardly believe he had the privilege of you grinding on him for a good two minutes. The dryness in his mouth is a testament to how long he stood there, mouth agape, watching you perform. If this was his first and last strip show, he’s glad it was yours.

“You did amazing, Y/N,” he says sincerely, causing you to turn your head to face him. His eyes are filled with adoration, but you can see the lust ghosting over them. “I almost busted in my pants out there,” he adds, attempting to joke, but you know he isn’t lying.

Smiling, you step forward, gently pushing him to sit on one of the white tables behind him. The shock is evident on his face. “How about…you bust somewhere else?”

“W-what?” His eyes widen as your fingers begin to fiddle with the button of his trousers.

“Well, you did so well, and I do owe you, considering we got interrupted last time.” Heeseung shakes his head, mouth moving but no words coming out. You laugh softly, finally unbuttoning his jeans. “I’m not taking your virginity in a sleazy strip club,” you assure him in a teasing tone, “But how about I give you some relief?”

His breath hitches as your hand slips beneath the fabric, his body reacting instantly to your touch. Heeseung’s eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back as he surrenders to the sensation. Your fingers wrap around his shaft loosely, to the point you might as well not even be touching it, only driving him further to need.

You kneel in front of him and Heeseung’s breath quickens, your fingers deftly working to free him from his trousers, and his erection springs forth, eager and ready, his tip already on the edge of exploding. You glance up at him, your eyes locking onto his, and the anticipation in the air is suffocating. He can’t believe this is happening and he is just praying to whatever higher power will listen that you won’t get stopped by a maniac trying to kill you.

Slowly, you lean forward, your lips parting as you take him into your mouth. Heeseung lets out a choked gasp, his hands instinctively reaching for the edge of the table to steady himself. The warmth and wetness of your mouth envelop him, and he can hardly believe the pleasure that courses through his body. Somehow, this feels so much better than it did the first time, perhaps because he didn’t spend hours worrying over it and instead, the spontaneity of it all is only adding to his arousal - the less time he has to think, the easier it is to let himself go.

Your tongue swirls around the tip, teasing him with delicate flicks and licks. Heeseung’s eyes roll back, and his grip on the table tightens. Every movement of your mouth sends waves of ecstasy through him, and he’s powerless to do anything but feel.

And what a sensational feeling it is.

You hollow your cheeks, creating a delicious suction as you take him deeper, your tongue pressing and swirling against the underside of his shaft. Heeseung’s breathing becomes ragged, each exhale a desperate moan. You can sense his restraint, the tension in his muscles as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth. It’s cute how wriggly he is, how even just your mouth is enough to get him fumbling beneath you.

“Oh, shit,” he hisses out, biting his bottom lip just harsh enough to break skin. “This is what heaven feels like, I know it.” He speaks his inner dialogue, the words slipping out by accident as he loses all sense of control to your skilled mouth.

Your hands gently massage his thighs, adding to the sensory overload. You glance up, watching his expressions shift between pleasure and awe, his face red in embarrassment as he whimpers a succession of tiny pleads, willing you to go faster.

The sight of him unravelling heightens your own arousal, spurring you to intensify your efforts. As you bob your head, your right hand wraps around the base, stroking in tandem with your mouth. Heeseung’s body begins to tremble, his legs shaking as he edges closer to release. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close,” You quicken your pace, the sounds of your movements filling the room.

Grabbing his hand, you guide it to hold your head, puppeting his fingers to grasp at your head. The silent instruction computes itself to Heeseung’s dazed self and he wraps your hair around his hand, gripping onto you for dear life as you quicken your pace.

You squeeze the bottom of his shaft and thigh in sync, causing the boy to jerk his hips up and his cock to hit the back of your throat. “Fuck!” he yelps out, his length throbbing in your mouth at the action so much that you can feel it on your tongue. You hum around him which only adds to his pleasure.

“Y/N, please, I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming,” he whines as his voice hits a higher octave. His hips shallowly jitter, forcing his cock deep into your mouth, taking away half the work as you let him control the situation. For the first time in his life, he is free of embarrassment and nerves, the only feeling he has now is pure need and desire, and it’s all thanks to your mouth.

With a final, deep thrust, Heeseung lets out a guttural moan, his release hitting hard and fast as his balls tighten and the vein that lays underside of his cock protrudes. You feel the warm spurt of his climax run down your throat and fill your mouth, which you swallow eagerly, your tongue continuing to caress him as he rides out his orgasm. The overflow of his cum drips down your chin and onto your bare breasts. The whole scene would turn anyone on and you hope you can get a copy of the CCTV when you’re done.

When he finally begins to relax, you pull back slowly, giving him one last long, teasing lick up his shaft, swirling it around his bell to collect the rest of his glaze before releasing him completely. You look up with a satisfied smile, your lips glistening with the remnants of his seed. Personally, you think it’s the nicest lip gloss you could ever wear, and Heeseung agrees.

Heeseung’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, his eyes wide with a mixture of wonderment and gratitude. He can’t ever repay you for helping him out like this, for giving him his first ever orgasm that was at the hands of someone else.

“Feel better?” you ask playfully, already knowing the answer.

Heeseung nods, a dazed smile spreading across his face, his eyes glazing over with satisfaction. “Much better,” he murmurs, his voice filled with thanks and amazement. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know but you helped me out and I couldn’t have you going out there with a raging hard on, not with Mars about. She’d bounce on it all night and we’d never get out of here,” you jokingly explain.

Heeseung tucks his cock back in his trousers and zips it up, eyes staring at you the whole time. “You think she would have?” His question doesn’t come from bewilderment but rather curiosity, causing you to roll your eyes and walk away.

“Come on, let's get our money.”

_____

Counting the £565 you made from the club, you smile wide, the ends of your mouth splitting your cheeks. The night has been exhilarating, and the weight of the money in your hand feels like a victory. You and Heeseung are making your way back to the convenience store to buy supplies, the thrill of the night still buzzing in your veins.

Heeseung walks beside you, his steps a bit unsteady, still reeling from the intensity of the experience of being in a strip club for half of his day and then getting the best head he thinks he will ever get in his life. He steals glances at you, his expression a mix of admiration and bashfulness. “I still can’t believe how incredible you were,” he says, his voice tinged with awe.

You chuckle, the sound light and happy. “Thanks, Heeseung. I couldn’t have done it without you. You were amazing too. Y’know, you looked really good tied up.” The playful compliment brings a blush to his cheeks, and you can’t help but find his shyness endearing.

As you approach the convenience store, the lights casting a soft glow on the pavement, you feel a sense of contentment when suddenly, someone stops you in your tracks, hand in front of you pointing accusatorily. The gesture makes you feel uneasy, and you grasp Heeseung’s hand with your left and hold onto the money tightly with your right.

“Hey, do I know you two from somewhere?” the man asks in a rugged voice and thick Liverpudlian accent. His eyes are sharp, scrutinising, and it sends a chill down your spine.

Heeseung sees your nervousness and steps forward protectively. “I don’t think so, mate. Sorry,” he says, his voice firm but polite. He gently pulls you out of the man’s way, his grip reassuring on your hand. The words Heeseung spoke are enough to have the man leave you alone, but the encounter leaves you both on edge.

Quickly, you pocket the money in your daisy dukes’ front pocket, keeping your eye on the man as he fades into the night. You have grown accustomed to shady men at night, what with being on the run for nearly four days, but never has one spoken to you so blatantly, especially to ask you a question like that. Unless he was at Saturn earlier, you don’t know how he could know you.

Unfortunately, Heeseung does. Detaching his hand from yours, he looks through the store window to stare at the TV, arms hanging loosely by his side as though he could no longer feel them. In fact, he couldn’t feel any part of his body.

Sensing his tension, you look up at him. “What’s wrong? The guy is gone now,” you reassure, but that isn’t what he is worried about. You follow his gaze to the low-resolution TV perched in the top corner of the store and suddenly, you’re feeling sick and weak, the ground falling beneath you as you read the headline scrolling at the bottom of the screen, pictures plastered as clear as day to complement the words.

BREAKING NEWS: Search begins throughout the UK for suspects Y/N L/N and Lee Heeseung in a brutal passionate murder of local man, aged 56. Authorities say the two fled the scene a few days ago and urge caution to the public. If anyone knows anything please contact Scotland Yard.

Falling back a little, you shake your head in disbelief.

“They’re looking for us…

taglist (closed): @yzzyhee @intromortal @zerobaseone-zhanghao @hooniehon @deobitifull @alvojake @sageryuri @slut4hee @binniesbabe @vveebee @minniejenseo @jebetwo @seunghancore @laurradoesloveu @yongbokified @jaehoonii @jaeyunluvr @melonvrs @criminalyun @enhastolemyheart @fakeuwus @flwrhoes @rayofsunshineeee @moonlighthoon @jaehyuniewifeu @en-ternals @haechonly @got-sunghooned @brownsugarbaybee @heeseungspookie @sunpov @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan

[fuctacles]

Remember late bloomers ?

Love popping into my wips and finding finished stuff I should have posted ages ago

Jeff gently informs him that getting running gear for the first date is a bit of an overkill.

“There is so much wrong with that idea. First of all, you hate running. Exercising, in general. And second, this is kinda pathetic.”

Eddie gasps.

“How dare you!”

“Dude, you just officially met today. Why would you waste money on something you might use once and then never again?”

Jeff was, of course, none the wiser that Eddie was about to enter his fit era. He’s going to jog every morning from now on, he’ll get cute matching sets with Miss Stephanie, drink smoothies, and get a gym pass. He’s going to turn his life around, lose the tummy fat he’s been harboring all winter, and turn it into a sixpack. Their fans are going to love it. Stephanie, too. They’ll run off into the sunset—or sunrise—together, they’ll make and raise the healthiest little babies—

“Are you planning your wedding or something?” Jeff interrupts his daydreams with a scoff.

Eddie bristles.

“I’ll be planning your funeral if you don’t start supporting your perpetually single friend,” he bites back.

Jeff raises his eyebrows.

“You sure that’s what you should be saying to the only friend who can lend you some jogging clothes?”

“Uh…”

“Thought so.” And Eddie hates his satisfied smirk but he’s desperate so he bites his tongue. “So, what you really need are good running shoes…”

He feels all kinds of stupid in his sporty get-up. He’s wearing his old Reeboks he wears only when his shitkickers are in repair (he will wear them to his grave), Jeff’s tracksuit pants, and his lucky Ozzy t-shirt. He woke up extra early today and his mug of coffee was almost empty by the point she, Stephanie, rounded the corner.

His mind goes blank when he recognizes his hoodie.

Maybe he hasn't woken up yet. What other explanation was there for this beautiful creature, backlit by the rising sun, to be walking up to him, decked in bright-colored leggings, and tank top and his hoodie, clashing unforgivingly with its blackness?  How else would he get a date with her if it wasn't a dream?

"You're actually dressed for running," she observes. No 'hello', no 'good morning', just her eyes roaming over his body from above. He quickly jumps up from the porch steps.

"Yeah! Lemme just..." He motions to the door with the mug, then quickly gulps down the last mouthful. "Want some water?" he asks, hand on the door. 

Stephanie's eyes snap up to his face.

"Yes."

It's weird, the way she says it, the way her eyes wander over his body. There's no way he's looking that good in borrowed sweats. They have some ugly gym logo on the side too.

"I don't really own gym clothes, but my friend was nice enough to share his," he explains, letting her in. She hums absentmindedly and follows him into the kitchen. He puts the mug in the sink and grabs a glass to fill it with freshly filtered water. When he turns around she's right there, now without the hoodie which she hung over on one of the chairs. Her tits are right there, but he holds her gaze, like a gentleman.

"Thanks." She takes the glass from him and takes a tiny sip, not breaking eye contact. Then puts it aside, on the counter behind him. "What's your stance on making out on the first date?"

Eddie's brain starts screaming.

"Not opposed to it," he answers and is immensely proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.

"Great," she says, almost relieved, as if he could give any other answer than an enthusiastic "ravish me, lady," and gently grabs his face, thumbs rubbing on the stubble along his jaw. She gives him a second to back away before leaning in.

She kisses his lips, just a little peck, a gentle caress. Dives in for another, and one more. Eddie reaches up to run his hands from her elbows up to her shoulders and feels little tremors running through her body. He frowns.

"Steph...?"

She groans instead of answering and her little kisses turn to kitten licks. When he parts his mouth for her, she licks across it, tongue pulling on his upper lip. He yelps in a pleasant surprise.

"I come here with innocent intentions," she says, her voice a bit strained, dipping into lower registers. "And you sit here, with your scrawny little ass in gym sweats." She lets go of his face so her hands can squeeze his waist minutely, before hauling him up onto the counter behind him. He squeaks, less dignified than the sounds he made before, holding onto her. Stephanie presses in and he opens his legs for her without hesitation. "And your dirty old sneakers, ready to jog with me. Eager like a puppy."

Eddie whines at the comparison.

"I'm not," he protests. He's just an adult man confronted with a beautiful woman out of his league.

"You're not?" she asks condescendingly against his ear. She's been rubbing her cheek against his stubble, nosing along the bones like she's the dog, trying to rub her scent all over him. Now she leans back to pout at him. Her lips are plush and pink and they haven't been kissed enough yet. "But I like strays."

Eddie's brain short-circuits.

"Uh... bark?"

She laughs and grips his thighs before capturing his mouth. She dominates the kiss without struggle and Eddie lets her use his mouth to her heart's content. He just wraps his arms around her neck and takes it, moves his tongue where she guides him. He can feel her hands on his thigh itching to touch more, but he doesn't want to part long enough to let her know she can, that she can take whatever she wants.

Eventually, she slides her hands up, thumbs digging into the crease of his thighs, and he mewls. His face immediately goes red at the sound that just left him.

"Well, that's something I'm not gonna un-hear."

Stephanie freezes and moves to pull away, but he traps her with his legs around her waist and presses his face against her shoulder, to hide his shame. Of course this is when Jeff decided to get up and walk into the kitchen.

"Uh, I'm sorry? And, good morning," Stephanie offers, seeing as her actual host won't be of any help. He makes a little wounded sound against her shoulder and she swats his thigh. 

"Good morning," Jeff offers back. "Stephanie, right?"

"Yeah."

"Jeff. I live here too, unfortunately. I was under the impression you were going out for a run, though?" He raises his eyebrows. "Did I lend him my exclusive membership sweats for nothing?"

"They're yours? Can we keep them?" she asks immediately. Eddie presses his nails into her skin not to make a sound at how she said 'we'. "He almost has an ass in them."

"Hey!" It's the first thing he says since Jeff walked in and the first time he moves away from the safety of Stevie-shield. Thankfully, his friend looks mostly amused, not angry or disgusted.

"Please," he makes a face. "I don't want them anymore."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Eddie's eyes narrow, the familiar back and forth giving him enough courage to release Stephanie from the clutch of his legs. She doesn't move far, just enough so the three of them can look at each other and chat comfortably. Well, considering the situation.

"I just saw you dry humping in them and you dare ask me?" Jeff scoffs.

The two culprits start protesting over each other with "We weren't dry humping!" and "We were just kissing?!" but he stops them, raising both his hands.

"I don't care! Just take them and leave the kitchen! I need some caffeine before work and the only bodily fluid I want in it comes from cow tits."

"Ew, dude," Eddie groans, but Stephanie lets out a surprised snort. 

"We're leaving!" she promises, pulling Eddie down from the counter. He scrambles to find balance but she grabs his hand to steady him. Despite them just making out, that's what makes his heart skip a beat. "it was nice to meet you, Jeff!" she offers, waving on her way out of the kitchen.

"Likewise. Good luck on your run!" he calls after them.

"Thanks!" 

Through the windows, he can still see them, Stephanie fixing Eddie's rumpled t-shirt while he's staring up at her with the dumbest expression he's ever seen. And he's seen a lot of them from his friend. 

"Good for him," he mutters to himself with a fond smile. 

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part twelve

summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i can't believe we made it to the end of s1! i am so, so excited to move on to the next era of this story! this is a reminder if you love this series and you haven't already please reblog this or the masterlist! it makes such a big big difference for me and my fellow writers know it all too well lol.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coriolanus wakes up, head on the open pages of Romeo and Juliet as people start to flood in, everyone anxious about what would happen to you.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, quickly casting his view to the screen ahead, camera view still locked on you. There was no one else for it to be tracking, after all. Except now, you were on Lamina's beam, lying down with your eyes closed. He wasn't sure if you were awake, or when you had even made your way down into the clearing, but you don't move. He can see the steady rise and fall of your chest as you lay with his scarf bunched up behind your head. Tigris was right, you had survived, but you wouldn't have without him. You looked peaceful- not at all like the girl he had seen crumbling apart on the same screen just a few hours prior.

"I feel as though I should inform you, they'll be going in very soon." Highbottom says, grabbing the boy's attention. "But I'd put my money on those boys being dead in there. Congratulations, Coriolanus. This means almost nothing for you."

He walks away before Coryo is even done processing what he had said. He wouldn't get the prize, most likely, but he would still have you.

You don't stir until you hear the peacekeepers entering the arena, sitting up and seeing them with guns pointed in your direction. "Don't move." One of them spits at you and you nod, eyes wide as you raise your hands. You watch as a designated team in different uniforms make their way up to enter the vents, and others spray something over the piles of snakes, stilling those that were still showing any signs of life.

"Is it over?" You ask, confused.

"Not until we can confirm you are the only remaining tribute." One of them answers and you nod, chewing on your lip as you watch the men disappear into the vents.

"Okay... Thank you."

You know what they would find in there, the bodies of the two boys trapped behind your salt line. You could tell them where the boys would be found, but then you'd be outing yourself. You had only confessed to Coryo. Only he could know. Last night, you didn't care. You have to assume he was the only one who witnessed your breakdown, your confession, because if anyone else had, you'd likely be dead by now. You have to hope your secret is safe with him if you want to go home.

The morning drags on forever as you sit there with guns pointed at you from the ground, and Coryo is pacing in the hall. There were many people around, excited to see if you would be crowned as the victor. People were rooting for you, and he was proud of that, but support didn't mean that you were promised a win.

Vipsania and Domitia were the only other two remaining mentors, whispering to each other across the room after they came back. It was eerily silent.

Then, one of the men emerges from the vent, turning all heads including yours as he just nods toward the peacekeepers watching you.

"Alright. Come on down." The same peacekeeper addresses you and you nod, a tear falling down your cheek.

"She did it." Coryo whispers to himself, realization forcing a grin onto his face.

Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "She's won! Y/N Y/L/N from District Twelve!" He calls out, making his way over to Coriolanus. "Coriolanus Snow is the Victor of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games!"

Coryo laughs in shock, smiling as the man pats his shoulder. He catches in the corner of his eye as his two classmates storm out, and he's quickly crowded with congratulations and praise.

"I won?" You ask quietly, feet landing on the ground again.

"Yes, they were found." He nods, and quickly your arms are being grabbed as you're led out of the arena.

"Do you know, did Coriolanus get his prize?" You ask them, but your question is ignored as you walk down the hall toward the exit, looking back over your shoulder as the gate is closed behind you.

Just outside the gates, you don't get much of a taste of freedom before you're being pushed into the back of the same truck. Empty. Bigger. Lonely.

"Empty your pockets." The peacekeeper tells you, standing at the entrance.

You do so hesitantly, holding up the compact on a shaky palm. "I'm sorry to ask, but can I have some water? Please?" You ask, once again ignored as the compact is pulled from your hand. "Please, sir, that was a gift... If you must take it can you return it to my mentor? Coriolanus Snow?"

He opens the cold metal, pulling out the piece of paper and unfolds it, quickly scanning it's contents. "That is for him, too. Though, if I had the chance now I would change it." You explain. You knew you both would be in deep trouble if you were caught for what you convinced yourself was no more than salt, and clarity came to you enough to lie about what the compact had contained all this time.

The peacekeeper hums, closing it up again and shoving both items into his own pocket, pointing the gun at you again. "Clothes off."

"Ex-excuse me?" You reply, taken aback by the request.

"Clothes off. Now." He repeats and you nod, swallowing the lump in your dry throat as you begin to slide off your dress, letting it fall at your feet. He moves the gun again, gesturing for you to continue. With trembling hands you remove your underthings, your shoes, and the scarf, placing them on the floor in front of you. He quickly gathers them, taking a step back and nodding to someone outside.

He moves out of the way and you stand there confused, watching as he shakes out your clothes and searches them, when suddenly you're being sprayed down with a hose. You yelp from the fast contact of the cold water pelting against your skin, but it wakes you up. After the initial shock, it actually feels good to be somewhat clean again.

You pant as the water is shut off, catching your breath and rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself again. Your clothes are tossed back into the truck at you before the door is slammed, and you use the scarf to try and dry yourself off a little bit before tying it around yourself the same way Coryo had. By the time you pull the second strap of your dress back on, the truck is moving and you're lurching forward.

You're driving for a while before the door is opened again, and you're relieved to get some fresh air. It was cold in there, and you were shivering in your small dress that was now also damp from your skin.

Once the doors open you're staring down the barrels of more guns as the peacekeepers usher you out and into the train station, right where you were let off all those days ago. Days... or weeks? You don't even know anymore.

"Lay off, why don't you? She's been through enough." A man in a black suit comes into your view, and they drop their weapons and let you go.

He steps in front of you and you wrap your arms around yourself to try and warm up. "Thank you, Sir." You smile, nodding at him politely.

"Nothing to thank me for..." He sighs. "I'm Dean Highbottom from the academy, it's a pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your victory." Surprisingly to you, he doesn't seem inconvenienced. Someone other than Coryo and Sejanus seemed to be willing to talk to you, to treat you like a human again. When he congratulates you, he sounds sad.

"Thank you, Sir." You nod again. "Do I... Will I be going home now?"

"Yes. In just a few minutes." He nods, gesturing for you to follow him toward the train. "I am extremely familiar with your mentor, Coriolanus Snow." He tells you as you join his side.

"Oh, wonderful!" You force a smile. "I have some things for him, just a note and something he leant to me. I gave them to that man over there. Would you mind making sure they make it back to him?" You point out the peacekeeper as you follow him toward the train.

"I'll see to it that he gets it back, yes." Dean Highbottom nods with a slight roll of his eyes, stopping next to the stairs that would lead you onto the passenger train. "But... if I may offer you some advice?"

"Please." You nod, urging him on.

"Be grateful you survived him."

You want to ask what he means, but the anger you saw behind your friend's eyes that night in the arena would haunt you and you knew that. Surely, that's what the Dean is talking about.

"Yes." You agree, unsure what else to say when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stack of cash.

"Take this, your prize, I suppose." He hands it over to you. It must be hundreds of dollars. Maybe over a thousand. With this, you could do so much for your family. "Oh, and Miss Y/L/N... You wouldn't happen to know anything about the rat poison that was in that compact, would you?"

You tense up, tilting your head at him with a confused smile. "Poison? No... All I had put inside was salt." You reply. "Sejanus Plinth gave it to me, with food from his Ma. Salt is good for protection, you know, so I kept it for later. Keeps you safe from evil and harm." You ramble on, panic and shock in your tone. Sejanus had given you salt to put on some vegetables and sandwiches he brought you, but now that you're trying to piece the story together, you don't remember even opening the compact until you were in that vent. Coryo had told you not to open it, so you wouldn't have. Your own memory is confusing you.

"I've heard that." He nods, eyeing you skeptically.

The train horn makes you jump before you can even thank him.

"Go on, now." He urges you onto the train, deciding to let slide however you had came across the rat poison. Clearly, you didn't know what you had done. Or you were convincing yourself you didn't remember. "Enjoy your freedom."

You nod and step up onto the stairs. You were hoping you would get to see Coryo again, it disappointed you that you never would. Maybe it was a good thing you wrote your goodbye note, even if you had survived. "I give you, upon my knees, a thousand thanks." You smile to the man still standing on the ground below you who just nods in acknowledgment before you close the door behind yourself, Coryo's scarf still wrapped around your waist.

"Y/N?" Coryo calls out, walking into the high biology lab. He was told you had something for him, no doubt the scarf and the compact.

"She's gone." Dean Highbottom cuts in, just before Coryo spots him in the poorly lit room.

"I was told-"

"I know what you were told. Here." The Dean tells him, pointing to the metal compact on the table.

Coryo looks at it only briefly before returning his gaze to the man who offered it to him. "Where is she?"

"I wouldn't worry about that, Coriolanus. Your work is done." He explains vaguely. "Were you aware that she cheated?"

"Cheated?" Coryo asks. "How?" He feigns ignorance.

"The boys in the vents didn't die from snake venom, or violently, or, naturally- for that matter." The Dean tsk's. "It was rat poison. Which, before you argue with me, cannot be found inside the arena or even within reach of the monkey cage at the zoo. I checked. So be honest, you have no idea how she got her hands on such a substance?"

"No, I don't." Coryo lies. "But she did what she could to survive- don't take it out on her because she somehow cheated your games. Next year give them uniforms, or up security or something."

"Just thought I'd ask. She told me she got it from Plinth." He waves him off, and Coryo ticks his head in slight confusion.

"Sejanus? No, he-"

"She really... declined, in there." Highbottom cuts him off, making it evident that he at least believed that Sejanus wouldn't do such a thing. "Told me it was only salt. Genuinely, it seemed like she didn't know. Or, she forced herself to forget. A sweet girl like that, it doesn't surprise me that that's how she would rationalize her actions."

"Is she alive? Because if you killed her for that I-"

"You'll what, Mister Snow? I thought you said you just wanted the prize."

"She deserved better." He states simply, swallowing the anxiety building in his throat.

"She does. I agree." Highbottom nods. "Which is why you won't see her again."

Coryo furrows his brow. "I... I don't understand how that could be relevant."

"Oh, I know you do, Mister Snow." His superior replies, a condescending edge to his words.

Coryo snatches the compact off of the table and quickly pockets it, storming out of the room. At least he hadn't been caught for helping you cheat, though he was sure Highbottom knew better. Now, he didn't have the Plinth Prize, and he didn't have you.

When he finally got home, he couldn't help but slam the door behind himself.

"Coryo?" Tigris calls out, excited as she puts down the project she was working on and rushes to the entranceway to meet him. "I didn't expect you home so soon! Did you get to see Y/N?" Her smile fades when she sees his expression. "What's wrong?"

"They wouldn't let me see her. She's already gone." He explains, pulling off his blazer.

"Oh..." Tigris frowns, taking the blazer from him to hang it up. "I know you really wanted to say goodbye. I'm so sorry."

"She'll never forgive me." He shakes his head slightly. "If she's even still alive! I doubt they would tell me!" He laughs, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes with his palms.

"They wouldn't kill her, Coryo. People loved her too much." She is quickly reassuring, reaching out to rub his shoulders. "You did nothing wrong... You did all you could for her. She'll forgive you."

"Not that." He mutters. "It's what I told you. You didn't see the way she looked at me, Tigris. Like... Like I was a monster."

"She was already scared. She was way out of her element. I think now, that she's safe, she'll find the space to see it reasonably." She tries to soothe his worries as best she can. "You're a good friend to her, and she's a kind person. She'll understand."

"But I'll never know for sure that she does."

"You might one day... Don't beat yourself up about it, and don't give up on her."

After a long, two-day journey curled up on a bench on the train, you recognize the building the train is stopping at. Suddenly, all your energy is returned to you as it slows to a stop, and you're already waiting at the door. You hear the latch unlock and you couldn't get off fast enough.

No one you knew were there, not that you expected any kind of greeting party. You inhale the fresh air, once again surrounded by the trees and your own people. You walk out of the train station and down the street, in the general direction of your home. You tried waving at a few folks you knew on the way, but people just stared, for the most part, jaws slack with surprise. They had already grieved your death. Sometimes you were met with a sad smile, but no one wanted to speak to you. You understood. You were used to that after your time in the Capitol.

"Y/N Y/L/N, is that you?" An excited voice called after you resigned yourself to a quiet walk home, twenty minutes from the bustle of the train station. You turn your head to look up at the back entrance to the Hob, a wide smile taking over your face when you see the speaker.

Your friend is already barrelling toward you, throwing her arms around you as your eyes fill with happy tears. It was refreshing. "I never thought I'd see you again..." You sniff, resting your chin on her shoulder as you hug her back.

Rhythmically, your best friend sways you back and forth. "Oh, I know, I know, sweetheart..." She hums, rubbing your back reassuringly. You can hear her voice crack too. "But you're home now. You're okay..."

She lets you break down as she practically holds you up as you cry in each other's arms. From happiness or trauma, you're not sure. "I did some awful things, I regret it all..."

"Don't regret a thing." She shushes you. "You did what you had to."

"No, no... You don't know... You didn't see..."

"I watched, Hun. When I could." She pulls away, placing her hands on your cheeks to wipe your tears. "You did nothing wrong. All that matters is that you're home now."

You sniff again with a slight nod. "I fear too early, for my mind misgives; Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin."

"No... Y/N/N. You're safe here. You are forgiven." She assures you, rubbing your arms. "Now, let's get you home. A good rest will do you well, your parents have been waitin' on you." She waits for you to nod before stepping to your side, guiding you in the right direction with an arm around your waist.

"Thank you, Lucy Gray." You mumble, allowing yourself to lean into her hold.

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okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[neotrances]

hi my names tyler, im a autistic black trans guy escaping an abusive household, im remaking this post bc it’s gotten long and donations have mostly stoped

TLDR: my homophobic mother who is verbally physically and financially abusive kicked me out of the house, i cannot go “home” ever as i’m in the process of cutting ties entirely, she has attempted to kill me multiple times and has threatened to kill my pets, something she has done in the past, as of may 15th she’s called all of my family members and have gotten them to turn on me bc of not wishing her a happy mother’s day, the last time we spoke in person threw my belongings (as well as my cats) into the street and threatened to harm me if i return / call the cops, she is incredibly violent, homophobic, transphobic, and mentally unstable and i want to go no contact

i’m staying at my partners parents house but this is not permanent stable housing, i have two cats staying in the room with me and my bf, im looking to find stable housing in the bucks county, Trentons border or north east philly areas, i can afford up to 1k in rent but would prefer anything lower / roommates to split rent for a place near those areas

all money I get will go directly into my savings and will be for paying rent and application fees, i have a steady money flow but i don’t want to risk getting evicted if i find a place, if you know anyone that can spare housing or who is looking for a roommate near these areas please reach out to me i’d really appreciate it, i don’t have many options, i just want to get my life together and be free of my mom so anything at all helps, the gofundme can be spread on its own, i’ll try to update it or this post as often as i can, i just spent about $200 on a new phone today as my mothers been cutting my service on and off despite me paying my own phone bill and i’m trying to make sure her and my family can’t contact me anymore, below are other ways to donate if needed, thankyou for taking the time to read / spread this

paypal + venmo

last updated october 14th, here’s a link to my most recent dono post, i have a depop in my pinned on my blog, thankyou for any support given

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 15

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Warning: Tragedy, Angst, Manipulation, Intimidation

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Her body shivered as she heard him admit his actions without remorse. This scary man’s name is Lance. He’s dangerous and sadistic, with no moral compass.

Lance’s presence was intimidating. He was a hulking figure with a sinister smile that never quite reached his cold, calculating eyes. His hands, large and scarred, rested on the table with a casual menace. His voice was a deep, gravelly rumble that carried an unspoken threat, making it clear that he was a man who thrived on fear and chaos.

He will do anything to get what he wants. She had heard from some people that Lance had a plan to kidnap a billionaire’s kid and demand a ransom.

Genevieve didn’t want to participate and felt lucky that she had escaped that circle of hell. But right now, she was walking back into hell to stop the humiliation her family received from you.

Lance put out his cigar and leaned back, his eyes glinting with malevolence. “You’re not here for a cup of tea, right?”

Genevieve took a seat beside him, trying to steady her trembling hands. “I need your advice. I’ll give you money.”

He let out a low chuckle, sending chills down her spine. “Now we’re speaking the same language.”

👷👷👷👷

Bucky went to visit the new manufacturing company. He felt a wave of fear when he stepped into the factory. As he was receiving the tour, he passed by some workers. One particular worker, with a larger build than the others, wore a big hat that covered his upper face. Bucky shivered. It was the same feeling he had when he was kidnapped. His trauma was triggered again.

He turned to take a good look at the man again, catching only a side view. But that smirk—he knew it. He had seen it a million times in his nightmares. That man was his kidnapper.

Bucky's heart started beating fast, and he couldn't keep standing. He struggled to breathe and then collapsed. Everyone around him panicked.

"Boss!!!" His assistant and secretary quickly rushed to help Bucky, but their touch only made his symptoms more severe.

"Call an ambulance!" the assistant yelled, and others frantically tried to assist.

Except for Lance. He looked on from afar and smirked. This was exactly what Genevieve had asked Lance to do: trigger Bucky's trauma and trap him in his own nightmare.

You received a call from Juliana informing you that Bucky had been taken to the hospital. When you arrived, you found out that Bucky had lost consciousness. You felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for not being able to help him.

Juliana looked at you with concern, her eyes filled with worry. You clenched your fists, your heart aching for Bucky. "I should have been there for him."

Juliana put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "There's no way you could have known. All we can do now is be here for him when he wakes up."

You nodded, determined. "I will. I won't let him face this alone."

💍💍💍💍

While Genevieve felt great that her plan was working, she didn’t know that Jonathan had another idea: to arrange an engagement between Victoria and another successful family.

Victoria pointed at the photo of a man she knew from her social circle. "Him?" It was Ryan Henken, a rich daddy's boy.

Jonathan nodded. "You both already know each other. It will be easy to fast-track the engagement."

Victoria's face twisted in disbelief. "He’s not the right person to marry. His mind is messed up." It was true; she hung out with Ryan and others, but he was the type of man suited for parties, not family life. She knew how Ryan treated his former girlfriends. The man was crazy.

Even after listening to his daughter, he remained firm. "His parents have already agreed to this."

"You didn't even discuss this with me! Are you going to let me have a miserable marriage?" Victoria's voice was filled with desperation.

"You still live under my roof. My rule," Jonathan said coldly, leaving the room. His decision was final, and no one could change it.

Victoria clenched her fists in frustration. Her peaceful life had started crumbling after you ruined her engagement with Bucky. This was all because of you.

Upset, Victoria drove around the city aimlessly. She eventually stopped at a park and began walking, trying to clear her mind.

“Pretty lady, you dropped your keys,” she heard an elderly voice say.

Turning around, she widened her eyes. She knew this older woman—it was your grandmother, Cassandra.

Victoria clenched her fists as she approached. "Thank you," she said, leaning down to pick up the keys. She leaned closer and whispered to Cassandra, "The woman who stays with you is not Ophelia, but your granddaughter. Your daughter is dead, killed by her husband. And the granddaughter who stays with you shares the same blood as the man who killed Ophelia."

Cassandra's breath shortened, and she pulled at her hair in distress. "Ophelia… No… My baby!"

“Hey! What did you do to her?” Cassandra's caretaker pushed Victoria away from the elderly woman.

Seeing Cassandra devastated made Victoria feel a twisted sense of fulfillment. "I'm just telling the truth," she said, then left, acting as if she had nothing to do with Cassandra's agony.

Cassandra's mind was in turmoil, unable to accept that her daughter was dead.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

You rushed home immediately when you heard your grandma had fainted from a panic attack. What was happening? First Bucky, now your grandma?

As you entered her room, the first thing Cassandra said when she saw you made your heart ache. Her weak hands trembled as she tried to reach for you. "Ophelia, you're here." You went into her arms, only for her to push you away, leaving you flabbergasted.

Her frantic eyes bore into you. "No. You died!" Cassandra's voice broke with grief. "It's my fault." She kept mumbling, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry." The caretaker had to calm her down with medication.

Slowly, you walked out of her bedroom, not realizing tears had started slipping from your eyes. You were the type of person who found it difficult to cry.

The first time you fully remembered crying was when your mother got sick. The second time was at Ophelia's funeral. The third time was when Genevieve tore down the glass house your mother had built. The fourth time was when Cassandra began forgetting you because of her dementia.

You leaned your back against the wall and slowly slid down, sitting on the floor as you cried.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps and someone calling your name. You lifted your head and saw Patrick standing there.

Patrick saw you crying for the first time, and his heart ached for you. He knelt down and hugged you tightly. "It's alright, you can get through this," he whispered.

As he held you, you felt a sense of security you had longed for. It would be a lie to say you never craved affection from your father. But with Patrick, you could sense his genuine desire to protect you.

Patrick's embrace was strong and warm, his hand gently rubbing your back. "I wish I could have been here for you sooner," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "But I'm here now, and I won't let you go through this alone."

You clung to him, your tears soaking his shirt. For the first time in a long while, you felt the kind of support and love you had missed so desperately. It was a bittersweet comfort, knowing that Patrick was there for you while feeling the weight of your losses even more keenly.

Patrick gently wiped away your tears, his eyes filled with determination. "We'll get through this together," he promised, his voice steady and reassuring. "I won't let anything else happen to you or your grandma."

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

At the charity event, where many guests and influential people were gathered in the ballroom, the spokesperson said, “We’re grateful for the generous donation from our biggest benefactor, Jonathan Sinclair,” gesturing for Jonathan to stand up so the guests could see him and give him an ovation.

Jonathan stood up and smiled, but suddenly, Patrick appeared and punched him hard. Jonathan fell to the ground, and the crowd gasped in shock, some screaming.

This was Patrick’s purpose. He wanted to ruin Jonathan's good name since he had cultivated an image of a quiet yet charitable man, along with Genevieve and Victoria.

Patrick, now on top of Jonathan, continued to punch him. "This man left his wife dying for his mistress," he shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. "After his wife was buried, he brought in his mistress and daughter. A daughter he had while still married."

Patrick paused, his fist hovering in the air, his eyes red and glassy with anger and tears. "I shouldn't have left Ophelia with you. You have a good daughter and a kind mother-in-law. You don’t deserve them!"

He landed another punch so hard at Jonathan's face that someone swore they saw a tooth fly out.

“Stop! You’re going to kill him!” Genevieve screamed, running toward them as if she had arrived late.

The security finally intervened, restraining Patrick, who spat, “I should’ve done that a long time ago.”

Genevieve carefully touched Jonathan’s bloody face and glared at Patrick. “You won’t get away with this.”

Patrick smirked. “I’ll be waiting.” He walked away, satisfied after doing something he felt should have been done long ago.

Jonathan lay on the ground, coughing up blood. If he could open his eyes, he would see the judgment in everyone’s eyes as they realized he wasn’t so great after all.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[whohasthecards]

Bradley, Bob, & Jake as Brothers

Just imagining the dynamic if these three because of the Dagger Squad and Mav and Ice began started to bond.

Bradley: An only child who was suddenly given 2 baby brothers.

Goose and Carol's only son, became a Mama's boy

After Goose died, the class of '86 helped chip in to raise him, meaning before they settled in with their own families he got the attention of so many uncles.

Mav of course took the most active role, basically being the father-figure to Bradley after Goose died. Bradley sees him more as a dad than Goose, that's why it hurt so much when Mav pulled his papers.

Then suddenly, the mission happened, they turn into a permanent squadron, and wow is Mav bringing Jake and Bob around more and more.

Hmmm, so Bob's former squadron giving him some trouble? No they're not.

Goddammit, Jake, give that back, right now!

Bradley: Hangman's the worst, selfish prick (Jake ate his leftovers). Some guy: Yeah, the guy's a fucking selfish assho- Bradley: What the fuck did you just say?

Bob: The youngest child given an older brother that actually pays attention to him and a younger brother that he needs to protect.

Big age difference between him and his siblings, he's the baby, was born when his siblings were already teenagers and young adults, focused on their own lives than him.

He was spoiled and loved by his family though, but they couldn't give him a lot of time and attention. His siblings were building their own lives, his parents were getting older, and he was an "easy kid". Bob was quiet, easy to please, easy to ignore.

When he said he wanted to join the Navy, his family was not supportive and doubted his ability. Deeply hurt him.

Then Bradley came, who would actually listen to him. Ruffle his hair and offer to hang out with him. They would play instruments together and stuff. Who defended him against his former squadron when they were making fun of him.

Then there was Jake who loved poking fun at him, but never in a mean way. Who would forget to eat when he was busy or having fun, making him have to shove fruit snacks in his mouth. Who would simultaneously teach and make fun of him when playing pool.

Bob: Come on, Rooster, not the hair (Bob rolled his eyes as Bradley ruffled his hair) Bradley: Awww, you're taking after Jakey, caring about your hair so much. Bob: Well, we actually want to look presentable (scrunches his nose at Bradley's Hawaiian shirt) Bradley: How rude.

Jake: The forcibly responsible, yet ignored middle-child, being given 2 older brothers who are protective of him, and finally gives him the chance to be free.

Jake is the middle child, have two older siblings and one younger sibling. His parents were neglectful, did not care enough.

He and his siblings used to be tight, but due to circumstances falls apart.

His older brother is a Navy SEAL, but suffers from PTSD, when he's on leave, he gets into trouble and drinks too much. He has to bail his brother out a couple of times.

His older sister began to be distant, he doesn't know where she is, she sends money and calls every now and then, but she started a new life. Whenever Jake asks for help, she refuses, claiming that Jake is strong and smart enough, that he can do it. (Jake simultaneously can't blame her and is resentful of her)

His younger sister needs financial support since she's just a teenager, she's in college right now and Jake is extremely proud of her. Just lonely as well. She's doing well for herself, Jake wants to protect her innocence. He acts more like her dad than their dad ever was.

Jake always has to be the rock, steady and strong. He's just tired.

He's a twenty-something, and he wants to be a twenty-something, careless and free. Fuck up and have fun every once in a while.

Then Bradley and Bob comes in.

He can't help but allow himself to play around with them, mess with them, tease them. They make him let his guard down, it's fun being around them, he's not responsible of them outside of being their teammate.

And they actually pay attention to him, and dote over him. He grumbles about them being overprotective or being too much of a mother hen, but he's sad whenever they hesitate to ruffle his hair, wondering if they were overstepping.

Maybe one day, he'll tell them about his family.

Jake (sinks 8-ball in): HAH! I won this game Bobert, pay up Bob (rolls his eyes as he pushes the cup of peanuts towards Jake): Eat up, you mean. Bradley (Ruffles Jake's hair): You gotta let him win once in a while. Jake (pouts): But how will he learn? And plus, how else would I be able to get some peanuts?

[nerdiel-has-no-braincells]

If I Stay

ft: michael kaiser x f!reader

summary: you don’t know how you got into this predicament, taking beating after beating, insult after insult, all for what? for your daughter, who your fiancée loves more than anything. you begin to think back on how you put yourself into this position

cw: aged!up, abusive relationship (not michael & reader), angst, physical and emotional abuse (not michael & reader), please do not read if this will trigger you (for your own safety and mental well being 🫶🏻)

It’s always easy to say that we would never let a significant other treat us badly. It’s so easy to tell ourselves that we respect ourselves too much to allow someone to put us down.

When we’re on the outside, we see toxic relationships and always tell ourselves that we’ll never allow ourselves to be in one until we do become in one. How hard is it to leave when you don’t remember the reason why you originally left?

That’s what you keep asking yourself as you look at your fiancée of 5 years. Why do you stay? Why can’t you bring yourself to leave?

Is it love? Is it because you’re stuck? Is it because you want to make it work? You don’t have an answer to these questions. But when you look at your 2 year old daughter, you can’t help but wish she wouldn’t hear her father yelling at you, calling you every name that had ever existed. You prayed she wouldn’t see the bruises that covered your body, causing you to be forced to wear sweaters even during the hottest seasons because he doesn’t try to leave bruises in easily hidden places.

You prayed so hard every night that your daughter would never allow herself to be in a relationship as toxic as yours.

You shielded your daughter from seeing and hearing the fights that go on in the night. You shed silent tears in order to not wake her from her slumber as you cowered in the corner taking punch after punch.

Your fiancée was a narcissist in the worst way. Not only was everything your fault, you didn’t do anything, you paid for nothing, and you never took care of your daughter even though you were the primary caregiver, everything was in your name, you were the one who had a steady job while your fiancée was once again unable to work due to his “back injury” that he obtained while at work.

He really did though, in the beginning. He went to physical therapy and you were there for him every step of the way until it became months after he had finished his therapy and was cleared to go back to work. Instead, he used it as an excuse to not work, do chores, anything.

Your days include taking care of your daughter, going to work at one of your two jobs, going to your second job, coming home to clean, make dinner, and continue taking care of your daughter. All while your fiancée sat on the couch playing games.

While you were at work, your daughter stayed with your mother, who had been worried for your well being. You never told her what really happens at home, always playing it off as just another silly argument, saying he was going to anger management, and that things were getting better. Your mother knew better, though, but the only thing she could do was love and be there for you. She’s tried to help you; tried to get you to leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You tell yourself time and time again that you love him and that’s the reason why you stay. You chose to relish in the good times rather than the bad, even when the bad outweighed the good.

That being said, you were looking forward to the weekend. Your darling baby girl had recently turned 3 and her birthday party was on Saturday. Your best friends, who you considered as family, were coming to spend time with your daughter.

They’ve always expressed their concerns about your fiancée to you, but they choose to love and support you no matter what.

Because you’re paying for everything out of pocket, you had reached out to take a rain check on the party because you didn’t have the money to be able to afford to take everyone swimming. One of your friends, Kathrin, offered to pay for it instead just so that your daughter could spend the day having fun with her cousins and aunts. You were so thankful and had talked to your fiancée about it, to which he agreed to it.

The day of the party, however, you were in the middle of getting your daughter ready for her party by dressing her in her favorite party dress, and your husband had passed by your daughter’s room after just waking up. Stopping, he turned back around and looked at you in anger, causing the hair on your arms and nape to stand. You instinctively turned around and shielded your daughter behind you as you stared at your fiancée, waiting for him to say something as he glowered down at you.

“Tell your little friend that she’s not paying for shit.” He finally speaks. “I don’t fucking accept handouts.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“It’s not a handout. Kathrin genuinely wants Emma to have fun with her cousins and aunts.” You responded, careful to not raise your voice or change your calm tone. You didn’t want to start an argument but calmly talk it out. Sometimes he’d be in a good mood to talk things out and you were hoping, praying that today was one of those days.

“She’s not paying for anything.” He seethed. Looks like today wasn’t one of those days.

“All she’s trying to do is make me look bad. Tell her she’s not paying for shit.”

You scoffed before you glanced down at your daughter. Giving her a small smile, you tell her to go play with her toys so that she wouldn’t be in the same room as the impending argument that would shortly unfold before looking at your fiancée.

“She’s not making you look bad. Sometimes people need help and it’s ok to accept help. She just genuinely wants to make Emma happy.” You respond. When it came to your daughter’s well-being and happiness, you found your voice.

Your fiancée’s glare never wavered. He didn’t like when you talked back to him, especially when you were attempting to make him look like a fool.

“I know what your friends think about me. You think I’m fucking dumb?!” He shouted, causing you to flinch.

Wrong move.

He immediately reached out and grabbed you by your neck, lifting you up to where your feet barely touched the floor, dangling below. You grabbed onto his wrist, trying to get him to loosen his hold onto you until he threw you against the door causing you to choke in pain.

“I don’t give a fuck if your friends want to talk shit to me but the moment you open your mouth, you bet your stupid ass I’m going to shut you up myself.”

Squeezing his fingers around your throat, you feel your airwaves close and you begin to gasp for breath. Your body’s alarm bells ring and you begin to struggle and scratch at his hands and wrist, trying to loosen his grip on you.

In the corner of your tear filled eyes, you see your daughter in the hall as she sees her father choking you and begins to cry.

The one weakness your fiancée has is his daughter, so when he hears her cries, he immediately drops his guard and looks over at her. Dropping you to the floor, he runs over to her and scoops her up in his arms.

“It’s ok sweetheart, daddy’s got you now.” He soothes as he walks away, leaving you coughing on the floor trying to find your breath.

Damn him. Fucking damn him.

You reach for your phone and send a quick text to your friends that the party was cancelled. When they expressed their worries and asked what happened, you didn’t respond back.

As soon as you caught your breath, you go into the bathroom, turning on the light and looking into the mirror. Forming on your neck were bruises in the shape of your fiancée’s fingers, steadily growing darker as time passed by.

The tears that had formed in your eyes earlier fell and you felt yourself sink onto the floor. Covering your mouth with your hand, you finally let yourself cry.

That night, you gently got out of bed and dressed yourself in clothes that would hide your arms and neck. After your fiancée had calmed down, he apologized for what he did to you and cried asking for your forgiveness, which as always, you forgave him.

After putting your daughter to bed, he came up behind you and began to kiss your neck, apologizing over and over while you cleaned the dishes from dinner.

This happens every time. He would have an outburst, hit you, and then beg your forgiveness when he felt horny. So you ended up forgiving and sleeping with him. Today wasn’t any different and you wanted nothing more than to take your daughter and leave.

But you couldn’t do that to him. He loved his daughter more than anything and despite how horrible he is to you, he’s an amazing and wonderful father. Emma is his entire world and she loves her father very much.

Your friends and family have told you that it wasn’t healthy for her to be raised in an environment where you were being abused. You knew it. But you just couldn’t take her away from him so long as he never laid a hand on her. And a part of you felt like he knew that.

Leaving to go to the convenience store, you thought back on when you were laying underneath your fiancée. He kept whining about how much he wanted another child, a sibling for Emma. You weren’t ready for another child just yet. Not with him at least. So while you took birth control to prevent another pregnancy that would result in you being stuck even more than you already were. Yet another reason that would make you feel the need to stay.

As you entered the convenience store, you bought a pregnancy test and water. You couldn’t bring yourself to take it at home, so you took it in the store restroom. Even with birth control, there was always the chance that you could become pregnant still and while you didn’t experience any symptoms with your daughter, you found yourself becoming nauseated as the days went on, so you were worried. You couldn’t let your fiancée find out because then you’d end up underneath him every night to make sure you would become pregnant. You were thankful that you kept your birth control a secret from him, feigning an illness when you received the implant so you would never be worried. Unfortunate for you that you were.

As you washed your hands in the sink, you thought back to 7 years ago.

You walked along the halls of your high school after school while you waited for your brother, Alexis Ness, to finish practice. He asked for you to wait for him so that the two of you could go home together…after accompanying his friend Michael. You were supposed to stay near the field, but you got bored watching the guys kick a ball around. Or the one man who believed he was better than the rest, even your brother.

Not wanting to watch your brother subject himself to be treated like a dog, you snuck away during a play.

You love your brother, you absolutely do. He was just very protective of you. If anyone thought he was serious about Michael, it was worse with you. He wouldn’t hesitate to threaten any guy who came up to you, good intentions or bad. It made dating hard and you wanted to be able to experience your first boyfriend. Hell, you’d take a first date.

Passing by the classrooms lost in your thoughts, you felt a hand grab your arm and pull you backwards and into a hard body. Looking up behind you, you met the owner of the hand and body, who looked to be a couple of inches taller than your brother and he had an attractive smile.

Letting you go, he stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck while you turned around to face him, keeping silent. You didn’t know who he was but you guessed he had to find a workaround to talk to you since your brother scared away just about every guy in your grade.

“Sorry.” He apologized. “I saw you and didn’t know how else to get your attention without alerting your brother.”

You were right.

“It’s ok.” You responded, giving a smile. “My brother can be scary when he wants to be.”

He laughed and the sound of his laughter made your heart flutter.

“Yeah, he’s never said anything to me, but I’ve heard a lot of stories so I figured my best bet to talk to you was to wait until you were alone. N-Not that I was following you or anything, I was in the faculty office.”

Your smile widened.

“Uh huh. Sure.” You teased.

It felt nice talking to him. While your experience with talking to guys was limited to your brother, this conversation felt easy.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?” He asked.

You glanced over at where the football field was to see if practice was still ongoing. It looked like everyone was starting to disperse causing you to feel nervous. Once Alexis saw that you weren’t around, he was going to lecture you.

Looking back at the man in front of you, you nodded.

“Sure! Sounds fun!” You agreed, taking out your phone and handing it to him so that he could add his number.

As soon as he handed you your phone, it began ringing as if Alexis knew that your phone had been handed off to someone. You immediately answered and waved goodbye before you turned and walked towards the field.

“What’s up Alexi?” You greeted.

“Y/N where are you? I told you to stay near the field. What if someone kidnapped you while you weren’t around?!” Alexis lectured in a panicked voice.

Rolling your eyes, you exited the building only to find your brother running around in a panic while Michael was watching him in amusement. Laughing, you waved to get his attention. Alexis looked at you and ran as quickly as he could, enveloping you in a hug that caused you to groan when he body slammed you. Alexis leaned back and held your cheeks in his hands and it was evident he teared up from worry.

“Alexi, I'm fine. I got bored.” You explained. “So I was in the halls.”

“What if a pervert found you? Like one of the teachers?” Alexis responded with furrowed brows.

A chuckle was heard behind you as Michael appeared, which caused you to furrow your brows and glare at him.

“Let her be, Ness. You can’t ask her to sit there every day and expect her to not be bored.” Michael said, giving you one of his signature smiles, which caused you to roll your eyes.

Alexis dropped his hands and smiled at Michael, his cheeks tinted pink.

“You’re right! I can’t be overprotective all the time, especially during practice when I need to focus on giving you a great pass.”

You inwardly groan.

It was that day that brought you to your current predicament. That guy that was shy and sweet is now your abusive fiancée.

You were aware of his anger problems, especially mixed with his narcissism since back then. But he never laid a hand on you until right before you broke up.

It was a stupid argument that was so stupid you couldn’t even remember what it was about. But whatever it was about caused him to give you one good slap to your face. You held your hand to your cheek and stared at him in disbelief before you broke up with him and ran off.

You were scared Alexis would find out so you avoided going home for a while until you were sure your brother would be in his room.

What you didn’t expect was to run into Michael Kaiser. He had exited a coffee shop and you ended up walking into him because you weren’t paying attention; you just wanted to get away.

His trademark smile formed as soon as he saw you, but it faded just as quickly as it appeared. His brows furrowed and he gently placed his hand on your chin, tilting your head to the side to look at the fresh red mark on your face. Tears threatened to fall as he stayed quiet.

“Please don’t tell Alexi…” You whispered.

“Give me one reason why.” Michael answered sternly. “Or better yet, give me the name of the person who did this to you, liebling.”

Your eyes widened. You had never seen this reaction off of Michael. He had always had a carefree attitude. Looking away from him, you moved his hand away.

“I just know how protective he is of me. It was just a silly argument and even then, I broke up with him.” You bit your bottom lip as the tears formed in your eyes once again.

Michael stared at you not saying a word. It felt suffocating to you and you just wanted to run off. You didn’t even like this man but the simple action of him getting angry on your behalf caused butterflies in your stomach. It felt like an eternity passed before you heard Michael sigh as if he’d come to a conclusion in his head and didn’t like the thought.

“Alright, I won’t tell Ness.” He said.

You looked at Michael, the shock evident on your face. This was something else you didn’t know about him. You were sure he was going to tell your brother. He definitely seemed like the type who would at least hold it over your head.

“In return,” He said, gently taking some of your hair and bringing it to his lips. His usual smile on his face as he looked directly into your eyes.

Oh boy. You were tired of being right.

“Let me treat you today. You need to see how a real man treats a woman.”

Despite the disgust you felt, your cheeks were tinted pink.

Sighing, you recognized your utter defeat. If you didn’t do what he said, he would tell your brother. You would rather deal with him than the wrath of your brother.

“Fine.” You answered in a monotone.

Michael chuckled and winked before letting your hair fall.

“Braves Mädchen.”

It took everything in you to not roll your eyes at his response even when it made your chest tighten. You would never admit he had his charms. He annoyed you to no end.

Michael had successfully distracted you from that day and you were able to move on. Then 3 years ago, your ex came back into the picture.

Because you originally blocked him after that breakup, he couldn’t get in contact with you and as soon as he saw you at random, he got on his knees and apologized.

When you decided to hear him out, he told you after he hit you, he realized his anger was out of control and he went to therapy to better himself. He told you he had changed and missed you.

So you took him back.

And you saw that he did change. His anger was controlled around you and he treated you much better.

Until the day he proposed after your daughter was born.

Sighing at the memory, you picked up the pregnancy test and looked at the results: negative. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, not realizing how much tension your body was holding during those few minutes.

Throwing away the test, you exited the bathroom and rubbed the bridge of your nose before colliding into someone. You really need to pay attention.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You apologize without looking at the person.

“Liebling?” A familiar voice called out, causing you to immediately look up and find the familiar blonde in front of you.

“Michael?” You breathed.

masterlist | chapter 2 ⤠

taglist: @xamilarin @vr00m-vr00m @oshiimaiy

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Blue Lock is created and owned by Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura

Art is owned by Haru

©️nerdiel-has-no-braincells 2023 Please do not copy, translate, and post as your own. Reblogs, likes, and comments are ok with me!

[velvainee]

✦ ⎯⎯ ㅤִㅤ ୭ 𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦 ( dr.wick x reader )

ᨳ ꒰ précis ꒱. oneshot. In 2236, Dr. John Wick leads "Wick Industries" in human experiments to extend life and youthfulness. But behind the facade of progress, test subjects like you are unknowingly involved, their consent ignored.

୨ৎ warnings. manhandling, non-con, forced relationship, breeding, evil intent, large age gap, p in v, blackmailing, mentions of blood, torture, bdsm, size kink. dead dove. do not eat. 2.6k words.

𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, this is my first fic on this blog ! please excuse any mistakes and lmk if you like it, reblogs comments & likes are very appreciated! if you have any requests for another fic don’t be afraid to reach out. ( has not been proof read ) !

As you step into the sterile corridors of Wick Industries, the faint hum of machinery fills the air, a constant reminder of the scientific endeavors unfolding within. It's 2236, an era where the boundaries between progress and ethical considerations blur into a murky haze.

You find yourself here not out of choice, but out of dire necessity, your financial woes pressing upon you like a weighty burden. Volunteering as a blood donor is your ticket to survival, a means to secure the funds desperately needed to support your ailing mother and keep a roof over your head.

You needed the money, your mother's illness draining your savings faster than you could replenish them, while the relentless march of automation threatened your livelihood in the retail sector.

With each passing day, the gap between what you earned and what you needed widened, leaving you with little recourse but to turn to unconventional means to make ends meet.

A giant in the industry, Wick Industries looms large in the landscape of scientific research, its reputation as a leader in biomedical advancements drawing both admiration and scrutiny.

When news broke of their call for volunteers to participate in cutting-edge experiments aimed at extending human youth, you saw it as an opportunity—a chance to alleviate your financial woes while contributing to the greater good. Little did you know the true cost of admission into this world of scientific ambition and moral ambiguity.

Entering the facility, you're greeted by the sight of a bustling lobby, volunteers milling about in varying states of anticipation and apprehension.

The air is charged with nervous energy, a palpable undercurrent of uncertainty running through the crowd as each individual grapples with their own reasons for being there.

At the registration desk, you join the queue, your heart pounding in your chest as you inch closer to the counter.

The old woman behind the desk is brisk and efficient, her voice a steady rhythm in the cacophony of voices around you.

“Next,” she called out, an old woman behind the counter waved her hand, urging you to move forward.

“ID?” She spoke. Your hands making their way into your little pink hand bag as they shuffled to take out your wallet, waiting for the nod of approval before tucking your things back into your purse.

“Third door down the hallway to the left,” she directed.

Guided by her directions, you navigate through the maze-like corridors of the facility, the sterile environment and the click of your heels against the polished floors adding to the surreal atmosphere.

The waiting room is a sea of faces, each one bearing the weight of their own struggles and uncertainties, their eyes betraying a mixture of hope and trepidation.

As you take your seat among the other volunteers, you can't help but feel a sense of camaraderie tinged with unease. The steady stream of departures catches your attention, prompting a question to the person beside you.

“Why are people leaving?” You ask.

Their answer, though matter-of-fact, does little to assuage your growing apprehension.

“I hear the doctors are looking for a specific blood type within the volunteers,” the man next to you replied, his eyes going back to the bright screen of the phone he held.

Amidst the ebb and flow of volunteers, two figures emerge, their presence commanding attention as they make their way down the line of chairs. The older man's piercing gaze sends a shiver down your spine, while his companion's whispered exchange only serves to heighten your sense of foreboding.

When they finally reach you, the weight of their scrutiny feels suffocating.

The bearded man leans in to murmur something inaudible into his assistants ear, the man’s eyes flicker in your direction.

“Her,” he whispers slightly, their eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

As their stares bore into yours, the man’s assistant gestures for you to stand, and you comply, feeling a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. With a barely perceptible nod from the older man, they lead you away from the crowd, down a series of sterile corridors lined with gleaming metal doors.

Down the labyrinthine corridors you go, each step bringing you closer to the unknown. The air grows colder, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and trepidation. What awaits you behind those imposing doors remains a mystery, one that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness with relentless persistence.

Finally, you come to a stop before a nondescript door, its surface devoid of any indication of what lies beyond. With a silent exchange, the older man and his assistant confer, their words lost to you in the deafening silence of the corridor.

As the door slides open, revealing a sterile room bathed in harsh fluorescent light, you steel yourself for what comes next.

Alone in the room with these enigmatic figures, you can't help but feel a sense of trepidation. Their welcoming smiles offer little comfort, their words ringing hollow against the backdrop of uncertainty that looms over you like a dark cloud.

"Welcome," the man with the clipboard begins, his voice a mere whisper in the vast emptiness of the room. "My name is Dr. David. Thank you for volunteering,”

As the assistant quietly slips out of the room, leaving you alone with Dr. John Wick, a sense of unease settles over you like a heavy blanket. Yet, in his presence, there's a strange calmness that washes over you, his reassuring smile and soothing voice momentarily easing the knots of tension in your stomach.

"Please, have a seat," he gestures towards a chair, his tone gentle yet authoritative. You comply, sinking into the plush cushion as he takes a seat across from you, his piercing gaze never leaving yours.

"Let me assure you, you're in good hands here," he begins, his voice smooth as silk. "Wick Industries is at the forefront of groundbreaking research, and your participation in our experiments is invaluable."

Despite his words, a nagging feeling of apprehension lingers at the back of your mind, a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced. Yet, you push it aside, clinging to the hope that perhaps this is just the opportunity you've been waiting for.

“I’m Dr. Wick—but please, call me John,” He gives you a charming grin once more, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

As he continues to speak, his words seem to fade into the background, your focus shifting to the way the harsh fluorescent light casts shadows across his angular features.

“Tell me about yourself,” he speaks up once more, trying to strike a conversation with his patient.

There's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in despite your better judgment.

“There’s not really much to me,” you chuckle softly, a pink shade flushing against your cheeks.

“I work in retail—heard of the small cafe Allure? Im a barista,” you say bluntly, as if you were having a normal conversation with your friend.

“Ah really?” John turns to you, his brown eyes boring into yours. “I’ll have to try it sometime, I’ve never been,” he revealed.

Your conversation starts to become more intimate, sort of like you’re speaking to a therapist.

"You're special, you know," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "There's something about you that sets you apart from the others."

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. His proximity is intoxicating, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting.

“People don’t usually say that about me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, yet you felt cared for, embracing the feeling of praise.

“A shame for such a pretty girl like you,” He jokes, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

You find yourself hanging onto his every word, his charisma and intelligence captivating you in a way you never expected.

As he shares stories of his past achievements and future aspirations, you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for the man before you.

But beneath the surface, there's a tension that simmers, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air between you. You can sense the shift in his demeanor, the subtle change in the way he looks at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

As the conversation lulls, he rises from his seat, his movements fluid and purposeful. With a slight smile, he disappears into the adjacent room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Minutes pass, the silence broken only by the soft hum of machinery in the distance. And then, he reappears, a small vial in his hand.

"I've prepared something to help ease the discomfort during the blood extraction process," he explains, his tone reassuring. "It's a simple elixir, but it should make the experience more bearable."

You nod, accepting the vial with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. As you raise it to your lips, you can't help but wonder what exactly is in the concoction he's given you.

But the pain of the extraction process looms large in your mind, overshadowing any doubts or reservations you may have.

With a deep breath, you swallow the elixir in one swift motion, its taste bitter and metallic against your tongue. And then, as the liquid courses through your veins, a wave of dizziness washes over you, your vision blurring at the edges.

You reach out for support, but John is already there, his strong arms catching you before you hit the ground.

Your head throbs, the sensation reverberating through your ears as you grimace in pain, your face contorted in a grimace as you watch the overhead lights flicker rapidly.

Panic surges within you, your heart racing as you realize your arms are restrained above your head, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into your skin. Your feet barely brush against the worn tiles below.

"What the hell?!" you exclaim, your voice trembling with fear. Memories elude you, leaving you disoriented and bewildered.

Surveying your surroundings, you find yourself in a stark white room, its pristine walls offering no solace. A single door stands in the corner, ominous in its silence as you hang suspended in the center, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the sterile space.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, revealing Dr. John Wick as he steps into the room. Clad in gloves and his white coat, he exudes an unsettling air of authority as a wave of realization washes over you.

"What's happening?!" you demand, your voice trembling with uncertainty as fear grips you tightly.

"Hush now," John soothes, his voice calm and measured as he approaches you.

Despite your frantic struggles against the chains, he moves closer, his hand deftly manipulating a remote control in his grasp. With a click, the chains lower, the sound of metal clanking echoing in the sterile room as your body descends.

“I didn’t lie about how you were special,” he smiles creepily, now eye level with the man as he lifts your chin slightly.

“We just need to text you for some experiments, nothing too big,” he added, hot tears already brimming your waterline.

“P-Please get me out this isn’t what I signed up for—“ You whined, your wrists still trying to undo the chains that bound them together.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that. You’ll be my little test bunny for today, is that alright with you, love?” He chuckled softly.

You shriek, tears already streaming down your cheeks as John’s fingers stroke against your jawline.

“You wouldn’t want to let your poor mother die now, would you?” He whispered, leaning into your ears as you grit your teeth, jaw clenching.

“Your mother has been transferred to a better hospital—under my industry. Resist and you die, let me use you this once and I’ll ensure your mother’s safety,” he’d add.

Before you are able to say anything, he grabs a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around your head.

Your body stops shaking, your mother was at risk and you were unable to do anything.

He first took a knife from the steel cart that was placed against the wall across from where you were, his movements precise as you felt your clothing slither from your body, down your legs and eventually onto the ground.

Unable to resist, you stood there, crying, your makeup making marks on your cheeks as you shuddered from the embarrassment you felt as you were exposed to the older man.

“So young, so beautiful,” his voice tantalizing as he admired your curves, his hands starting to graze against your skin, the goosebumps visible from your fear.

“Don’t be afraid, it’s only procedures,” he teased, before pushing the button on his remote once more, your body lowering down as you gazed up at the man like a dog.

His fingers made their way under your chin, lifting them up slightly before he slowly undid the handkerchief.

“Please don’t scream, you’ll only make it harder for yourself,” he rambled, his lips now pressing against yours as you moaned in both surprise and disgust.

His tongue swirled with yours, the both fighting for dominance as he held your jaw in one hand, the other one starting to undo his pants.

John’s eyes glinted with a cold detachment as he advanced towards you, his movements deliberate and predatory.

“I promise, you’ll like it,” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance as he surveyed your trembling form.

You tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat as he pinned you against the wall, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed over your body.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he leaned in close.

“Resistance is futile.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the fear that gripped your soul.

“Please,” you whispered, but the desperation in your voice only seemed to amuse him.

With a smirk, he silenced you with a bruising kiss, his lips crushing yours with a ruthless intensity that left you gasping for air.

And as he claimed you as his own, you found yourself surrendering to him completely, your body a playground for his darkest desires. Each touch sent shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins, your cunt throbbing with a mixture of agony and ecstasy.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else - a twisted kind of love that dared not speak its name.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he watched you squirm beneath him.

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his touch ignited within you.

With a guttural grunt, John released his load deep inside your cunt, his cock throbbing with the force of his climax. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his pulsating shaft as he claimed you as his own.

“Take it, you filthy whore,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain as he buried himself inside you.

“You like being used, don’t you?”

You moaned in response, unable to deny the twisted pleasure that his rough treatment ignited within you.

Each thrust was a reminder of your submission, a testament to the depths of your depravity.

As he reached his peak, his grip on you tightened, leaving bruises in his wake as he marked you as his property.

“There we go little bunny,” he sneered, his words a cruel echo of the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

And as he finally pulled away, leaving you empty and spent, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. In his arms, there was no room for love or tenderness, only the raw, unbridled passion of two souls consumed by darkness.

♡ 𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑

[yuwuta]

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)

[literary-motif]

Expectations

Kayson x Reader

The meeting with your parents doesn't go well. Kayson picks up the pieces.

You were trembling, doing your utmost to blink away the tears and keep walking. The world around you felt very far away, and the pavement beneath your feet seemed less solid with every step. 

You held onto the railing to steady yourself, never stilling your steps because you knew that once you stopped walking, you would fall apart completely. 

The harsh words your parents had spit at you still echoed in your mind. 

They had discredited all the work you did, making a mockery of your struggles. It felt like a knife sheathing itself deeper and deeper into your chest, piercing your heart.

“You don’t ‘work hard,’ so stop complaining,” your mother had said, taking a sip of her tea as her judgemental gaze seemed to analyze and pluck you apart. “If you worked hard, you’d have it all figured out by now. It’s time you start concentrating on the important parts of life and stop wasting your time with frivolous things.”

She had been referring to Kayson, of course, and the thought that they still saw him as an inconvenience — the man who called you ‘perfect,’ the person who always had your back no matter what, who would pluck the pen from your hand when you worked yourself into the ground — had made your blood boil with anger and resentment. 

How dare they look down on the best thing that ever happened to you? While they put weight on your shoulders for years, crushing you slowly under all their expectations and demands, Kayson worked inexhaustibly to free you from that suffocating weight and make you feel as light as air.

You had clenched your jaw, resolved to defend him and tell them just how great of a person he was. They had had it backwards anyway. If it hadn’t been for Kayson offering his support and being your crutch when the world got too overwhelming, you would not have performed half as well as you did. 

“Actually, I am—” you had begun, only to be cut off by your father clearing his throat and setting down the essay you had given him on the kitchen table. 

“It doesn't matter,” he had said, waving a hand in the air dismissively, “everything you do right now is useless anyway.”

The argument you had been trying to make slipped from your mind as your heart dropped. You had looked down at your history essay, willing the burning feeling in your throat to disappear as waves of shame and embarrassment had washed over you. 

Why had you shown it to him in the first place? 

“The essays you write are entirely irrelevant. Your marks on midterm papers, superfluous knowledge on ancient civilizations, all completely useless,” he had said, setting his cup of tea down on the pristine white paper and leaving a stain. 

You had wondered then if the high words of praise from your professor — congratulating you on the excellent research you had done and expressing their pride at the student you had become — had been rendered illegible by your father’s carelessness. 

“Listen here. What matters is only the degree,” he had continued, raising a finger as if to lecture you, “Only the marks at the end of your academic career. That’s what’s relevant for the real world. That’s the only thing you should care about. It’s the only thing that matters in all of this.”

Your mother had agreed, adding a few biting remarks about being stuck in your ivy tower for far too long and having forgotten the importance of putting your knowledge to practical use and making money. 

You had left quickly after that, making up an excuse about having to cover a shift for your coworker. Still, you were proud that you had not allowed them to see the tears falling from your eyes as soon as your back turned and you disappeared behind the entrance door.

With stifled sobs and shaking shoulders, you had begun your way back home, but the biting words and harsh remarks had grown louder and more oppressing in your mind until all you could do was hold onto the railing and allow the tears to fall as you bit your lip and looked into the water of the Thames. 

You wanted to curl into a ball and sob, hide yourself under a sea of blankets until the world disappeared and there was nothing left of you. You wanted Kayson to wrap his arms around you and reassure you that everything would be alright. 

Retrieving the phone from your pocket, you looked at your lock screen, the two of you smiling  happily at the camera. It made the lump in your throat thicken, knowing your happiness was frivolous to your parents. 

There was a bench a few steps away. You shakily walked towards it and dialed Kayson’s number. He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, perfect,” he said cheerily, the pet name making fresh tears gather in your eyes. “What’s up?” 

Your lower lip wobbled. Curling into yourself, you could not suppress a sob. The entire situation had become too much.

“Hey, hey. Are you alright? What’s going on?” Kayson’s concerned voice came from the other end of the line. You wanted to kick yourself for making him worry. 

“Parents,” you croaked, wiping the tears from your eyes. You felt pathetic, crying on a bench in public because your parents had told you some ‘harsh truths,’ as they liked to put it. “I’m fine, I promise,” you said hoarsely.

“Where are you?” Kayson asked, his voice muffled as you heard shuffling and a closing door. “Where are you, Perfect? I’ll pick you up, yeah? I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t bother. I’m fine, really,” you lied, running a hand over your face to disperse the tears that would not stop coming. The gratitude you felt for him was quickly swallowed by guilt. He shouldn’t have to put up with this, not with you and all your fractured parts, nor with your parents and their biting remarks. He did not deserve any of this, and you certainly did not deserve him. “I’ll get home in a bit, just— don’t inconvenience yourself on my account.”

“Where are you?” he insisted, his flat but urgent tone accompanied by his steps on the sidewalk. “Tell me, please. Otherwise, you leave me no choice but to search all of London for you. I can, you know. And I will, if I have to.”

Despite the tears streaming down your face, you smiled. “Fine,” you sighed, wiping your eyes and looking around. “Uh, I’m by the Thames” — Kayson’s footsteps halted suddenly, resuming a moment later — “next to the park we kissed in after going to that restaurant you wanted to try.”

“I know where. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said. “Do you want me to stay on the line?”

You could hear the even thuds of his hurrying steps, and despite the guilt you felt at making him worry, the relief of him coming to get you was enough to put you at ease for now. 

“I—” you began, trailing off. “Would you mind?” Kayson chuckled as if the idea of him minding anything that comforted you was absurd. “It helps when I hear your voice. You make me feel safe and— and loved,” you admitted, looking out across the river and wiping the tears from your eyes. Talking to Kayson never failed to calm you down. 

“That means I’m doing everything right, then,” he said, slightly out of breath. It dawned on you then that he had been running this whole time. 

“Kayson, be mindful of the traffic,” you warned, frowning slightly, “and don’t overexert yourself. I’m fine. There’s no need to sprint to me!”

He laughed, and the warm feeling settling in your chest at hearing his amusement was enough to wipe every thought of your parents’ harsh words from your mind. “You know I’m in shape, don’t worry,” he said, before adding teasingly, “I’d fly to you if I could, like a, hm” — he thought for a moment — “like a phoenix.”

“Out of the ashes, yeah?” you quipped. “The ashes of the cigarettes you used to smoke?”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned, his steps slowing gradually. “I think I see you. Are you on the bench? I’ll be there in a heartbeat.” The line went dead just as you heard Kayson call out to you. 

Getting up, you smiled instinctively when you saw Kayson. He opened his arms to draw you into a tight hug. “There was no need to run,” you said, words muffled against his shoulder. Still, you were immensely grateful for having him with you now.

“There was every need,” he said, squeezing you tighter. “You sounded distressed. How did the meeting with your—?” his question trailed off as he saw the crinkles you had made in your essay, clutching it in bitter disappointment. 

He sighed, prying the paper from your hands gently and smoothing it out as best as he could. He paused at the stain, and you could feel the rumble of his chest as he scoffed. 

“Hey,” he said, loosening the hug as he hooked a finger under your chin to make you look at him. “They don’t deserve you,” he whispered, the sad look in his eyes at seeing your efforts dismissed so carelessly, nearly hidden by his fond expression.

Leaning forward, you met your lips to his. You tried to convey all of your emotions through it alone as words would forever fall short of expressing just how grateful you were for him. “I love you,” you said simply as you broke apart. “Thank you for coming.”

“I will always be there for you when you need me,” Kayson said, the adoration in his eyes as he looked at you stealing your breath. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand and shooting you a genuine smile. “Let’s get you home, Perfect. I made dessert.”

[winchesterwild78]

A Home and a Heart

Master List

Characters: Jack Durfy x Reader

Warnings: Language, Inappropriate propositions, angst, injury

A/N: Just a quick story, not too long. Maybe two or three chapters. I haven’t seen Buddy Games, but I did Google the character. I know he wasn’t in the movie long, but we can always use our imagination.

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life or the movie in any way. 

Please do not take my work, reblogs are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

The rain drummed against the roof, echoing through the small, cramped house. You sighed, your heart heavy with worry. You had been trying to keep your head above water, but it seemed the problems just kept piling up. The leaky roof, the faulty stove outlet, and the crumbling front steps were more than you could handle.

You were a single mother to a very active 3 year old boy, Tommy. He was the light of your life, but it was also exhausting doing everything alone. Tommy’s father ditched you the minute he found out you were pregnant, and you haven’t heard from him since. 

Your family and best friend have been an amazing support for him and you. When you had to work late at the hospital, they would watch him and help take care of him. 

Being so fiercely independent, you refused to tell them just how bad the repairs needed really were. Your best friend, Abby, knew. She offered to help you, but you refused. She had just had a baby and she and her husband were trying to build their nest egg. You couldn’t take money from them. 

Desperate, you reached out to local handymen for help. The first one showed up in a fancy new truck. He walked around your home and took notes, he went on the roof and when he came down he handed you a quote for $15,000. Your eyes almost popped out of your head. “Well, thank you so much for coming out. I’ll let you know.” He nodded and got in his truck and left. 

The other quotes were any better. None of the companies were willing to set up payments with you. Even though you had a steady job and amazing credit they said they weren’t willing to make arraignments for such a large amount. 

The last two contractors were far worse. You showed Joe in and he walked around. He started to head towards your bedroom, “Um, excuse me, there isn’t anything in there that needs repairing.” He turned and walked over to you, “Oh not yet, darlin’, but I’m sure you can’t pay so we can work something out.” His hand brushed against your breast. 

“ I think you should leave.” “Ah don’t be like that. I know you’re lonely and need more than just your house worked on.” You were fuming, “Leave, NOW!” 

He grabbed his stuff and left. You were starting to feel hopeless. You called Abby, “Hey Abbs. I don’t know what to do. I’ve called every handyman I can find and they are either too high, won’t do a payment plan, or they try to sleep with me. I need to give Tommy a safe place to live. I don’t want to walk away from this house. It’s mine and it’s something I’m proud of having.”

 Abby offered a sympathetic ear, “I know honey. Maybe you can try and call Jack Durfy. He owns Durfy Construction, he can be a bit of an ass, but I know he’s got a kind heart. When John got laid off a few years ago, Jack had him come work for him so he could make some money.” “I didn’t know that. I’ll give him a call, thanks Abbs.” 

Jack owned Durfy Construction, and though he had a reputation for being gruff, you were willing to give him a chance. You called him up and asked him to come by for a consultation. “Mr Durfy, my friend Abby Smith told me to call you. I own a small home and it’s in need of some urgent repairs. I’m going to be honest with you so I’m not wasting your time, I’m a single mom on a fixed income. I’d be willing to set up a payment plan if you were open to it.” “Well, let me come out there and take a look. I’ll let you know.”

The next morning you saw Jack driving down your driveway in his big truck. Tommy was standing at the door, jumping up and down seeing the truck. “Truck, mommy, truck!” You scooped up the toddler, “Yes baby I see it’s a truck. Mr. Durfy is here to see if he can help fix the house. 

Jack walked up the stairs and noticed how broken they were. You greeted him with a warm smile and an extended hand, “Hello Mr Durfy, thank you for coming by. I really appreciate it.” He shook your hand, “Hello Ms Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you, and who’s this little guy?” He ruffled Tommy’s hair. Your toddler squealed in delight, “I’m Tommy.” “Well, hello Tommy. Want to show me the house buddy?” Tommy nodded excitedly. You smiled softly.

As Jack inspected the house, he discovered even more problems than you had initially realized.

“So Ms, Y/L/N, besides the roof, front steps, and stove outlet, I unfortunately found some other things that need attention as soon as possible. The foundation is cracked by your bedroom, and the main bathroom has a leak into the walls. That’s going to require a complete demolition of the bathroom, so we can dry out the wall and replace everything.” 

Tears pricked your eyes. “Oh wow. I definitely got screwed over when I bought this place. I never should have bought it.” The tears started to fall. You wiped them away quickly, “I’m sorry Mr. Durfy. How much will all of this cost me? 

“Well, first, please call me Jack, and I can do it all for about $5,000.” You sat and looked at him in disbelief, “I’m sorry, what? $5,000? That’s it? Please Mr. Durfy, I mean Jack, please tell me the full price.” 

“That is the full price. I don’t take advantage of people and I own all of my own equipment and have all the material needed for the repairs already. I tell you what, if you’d agree to do something for me I’d be willing to do the repairs at no cost.”

“You know what, I’m tired of men thinking I’d spread my legs for them to get repairs done.” “Whoa! What? Y/N, I’m not asking you to sleep with me. Jesus. What kind of man do you think I am? Shit!” 

Your face turned red with embarrassment, “Jack I’m so sorry. The last guy I had here tried to get me to sleep with him to do the repairs. I am so sorry. I understand if you want to leave.”

“Let me guess, Joe Collins?” “Yes, how did you know?” “The guy is a douchebag. He tries to jack up his rates and then sleeps with women to get them lower.” “That’s disgusting.” “Yeah it really is.”

“So, like I was saying, I work really late at night, sometimes I just sleep in the office trailer. It’s been years since I’ve had a home cooked meal, and I know you can cook. Abby told me. (he smirked) So if you’d be willing to cook some meals for me, I’d be willing to do the repairs for you. Of course I might need Tommy’s assistance with tools and stuff, if that’s okay with you.”

“Wow, that’s really generous of you. I know Tommy would love to help you with tools. I doubt you’d get the right one you needed, but he’d try. Sure, I’ll cook for you. Are you allergic to anything or have any dietary restrictions?”

“Nope, I’m not a pansy. I like meat and eat junk, so I’m good for anything.” “Having allergies and dietary restrictions don’t make you a pansy.” You chuckled. 

A few days later you were woken up by the sound of walking on the roof. You looked over at the clock and it was a little after 6am. You grumbled and grabbed your robe. Walking outside you stepped into the yard, “Um, since when did we agree to you coming at the crack of dawn to start working?” 

Jack looked down at you and chuckled, “Sorry sweetheart, there is rain coming in later and we wanted to get this roof pulled off and the new one laid before it comes in.” 

“Ugh! Fine. Wait, I just needed a repair, not a whole new roof.” Jack looked down at you, “The repair area was just too big. It makes more sense to just do a new roof.” “Okay, well I’ll be in the house trying to sleep. I have a shift in a few hours.” 

“Sweet dreams” Jack chuckled. You lazily waved and climbed up the stairs and went inside. Abby had taken Tommy to her house for the night, so you grabbed your earphones, turned on some white noise and went back to sleep. 

A few hours later your alarm went off and you got out of bed. Hearing the hammering overhead you figured they were already laying the new roof. Dang they work fast. You went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Waiting for the water to heat up, you went into the kitchen and started your coffee. You made extra for Jack and the guys working with him. 

Jumping in the shower you cleaned yourself and your hair. You finished getting ready for work then went into the kitchen and started cooking something to eat. You figured Jack and the other guys were hungry, so you whipped up something filling for them too. 

You ate quickly and grabbed your cup of coffee. Grabbing your bag you went outside and got Jack’s attention. He climbed down from the roof, “Hey, I hope we were as quiet as we could be.” “Oh I put in my earbuds, I didn’t hear anything but the soothing sounds of the ocean.” Jack chuckled. 

“So I’m heading out to work, I left the front door unlocked for you. I made you guys something to eat and some coffee if you’re hungry. All I ask is you guys stay out of my underwear drawer.” Jack chuckled, “Now where’s the fun in that. You know you learn a lot about someone by the underwear in their drawer.” You looked at Jack unamused. He threw his hands up in defeat, “Sorry, I was just kidding. We don’t go through people’s things. You can trust us. Thanks for cooking, you didn’t have to.” “Yes I did, I thought that was our arrangement.” “Yes, but only for me. I can’t have you spoiling my guys.” 

You smiled and touched his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll save the good stuff for you.” Your fingers lingered on his chest for a few minutes. His chest was so toned and firm. Your breath quickened. Jack’s heart started pounding, he liked your hand on his chest. 

You cleared your throat, “Well have a good evening, Jack. I’ll see you later.” “Yeah, bye, Y/N, have a good shift, and thanks for the food.” You waved and nodded as you climbed in your car. 

Driving to work all you could think about was Jack. His piercing green eyes, his smile, his bowed legs perfectly hugged by his blue jeans, his toned chest, and his whiskey silky voice. You hadn’t realized your face had flushed or that you were biting your lip until you put your car in park at work. 

You took a deep shaky breath before getting out. This attraction to Jack came out of nowhere. You really need to get it under control since he’ll be working at your house. 

A few hours into your shift you walked into a patient's room to check on them before they were discharged. That’s when you heard a familiar voice coming from the room next door. 

“The nurse will be right with you sir. I’m just the triage nurse.” She walked out of the room and handed you the chart, “This one is a little grumpy. He keeps complaining he doesn’t have time for this shit.” 

You snorted, “Okay, thanks for the heads up.” You looked at the chart and softly gasped. Jack Durfy, Male, 46 years old. 

Of course this happens. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. “Come in” you heard his gruff voice say. 

As soon as Jack saw you his eys softened. “Well, hey sweetheart.” You smiled and blushed a little, “Jack, what happened?” 

“It was stupid, I got distracted and fell off the roof. I think I broke a rib and I sliced my hand pretty good.” 

“Oh my god, Jack! Okay let me see the hand first.” 

You removed the temporary dressing and looked at his hand. Taking his large, calloused hand in yours sent a shiver through your body and straight between your thighs. Your breath quickened. 

Swallowing hard, “You’re going to need stitches. I’m going to clean the wound and get the sutures on it.” Jack just nodded. 

As you cleaned his wound and stitched him up, he watched you, completely mesmerized by you. The way your fingers brushed over his skin, like a delicate dance, only the two of you were invited to. 

You bit your lip as you worked. Your eyes flicked up to his, God he’s got gorgeous green eyes. And his lips look so plump and soft. 

“Okay, all patched up. X-ray will be here to take you in a few minutes. Hopefully nothing is broken.” Your hand lingered on his for a few moments. “Hey, Y/N, thank you.” He touched your hand as you started to walk away. 

You smiled and nodded. A few minutes later they came to take him away to get his x-rays done. 

You sent Abby a text. 

You: Girl, Jack got injured and he’s here right now. I just finished working on him. 

Abby: Mmm is that what it’s called now. 😝 

You: Girl, stop. 😂 

Abby: He’s single, you’re single, he’s hot, you’re hot. 

You: No I’m not, girl stop. There is no way he’d be interested in me, an frompy, single mom. 

Abby: Don’t sell yourself short. You’re amazing, beautiful and a kick ass mom. Anyone would be lucky to have you. 

You: Thanks, Abbs. Well he’s back from x-ray. Gotta go. Give Tommy a kiss for me. 

Abby: Will do, go give Jack a big kiss, make his boo boos all better. 😘 

You: Yeah right. 🙄 

Your face flushed a little with Abby’s texts. You walked back into his room. “So now we wait for the doctor to read the film and he’ll tell us what to do next. Jack, I can’t believe you fell off the room. You could have been killed. I’m so glad you’re okay.” You touched his shoulder. 

His eyes sparkled under the harsh lights of the ER, “Me too, not sure what happened. I was just distracted and lost my footing. It was stupid.” 

The doctor came in a few minutes later, “Mr Durfy, I don’t see broken ribs, they are however bruised really bad. I’m going to have Ms. Y/L/N to wrap it pretty good for you. Keep it on unless you absolutely need to take it off, like to shower. Do you have someone who can help you wrap it tight again?” 

Jack looked up and was about to say no, but you nodded yes. “Um, yeah I guess I do.” “Great, then I’ll let you get wrapped up and we can discharge you. Ms. Y/L/N, wrap him tight and get him ready to go home.” You nodded, “Yes, sir. Mr. Durfy, I’ll be right back with the wrap and your discharge papers.” Jack nodded and you walked out.

Coming back in with the wrap and his papers you took a deep breath. “Okay, Jack I, um, need you to remove your shirt.” Jack took his shirt off and you let out a soft gasp. He was so toned, and being this close to him made you quiver between your thighs.

“This might hurt a bit, but let me know if it’s unbearable.” Jack nodded and you got to work. “Lift your arms slightly for me.” You started to wrap the bandage around his torso. You noticed goosebumps erupt on his skin as you wrapped his ribs. You leaned around him and your chest was flush with his as you reached around to wrap around his back. 

As you stood back up, you stopped and Jack placed his fingers lightly on your chin. “You’re incredible, you know that?” You blushed, “Thank you.” “I mean it, you are amazing at your job, you’re a kick ass mother, and you’re so beautiful.” 

“Jack, I, um, don’t know what to say.” He smiled softly at you, “You don’t have to say anything, darlin’.” Jack’s fingers brushed against your face, you leaned into his touch, instinctively. 

“What would you do if I told you I wanted to kiss you?” You softly chuckled, “I’d ask if you hit your head when you fell.” “I didn’t, and I’m serious. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I met you.” 

You bit your lip and took a deep breath, “Well, then do it.” You couldn’t believe you told him to kiss you. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you felt like you were going to pass out. 

Jack leaned in closer to you, your lips inches from each other. Your breath hitched. Jack softly pressed his lips to yours and you pressed yours to his. 

The kiss was soft and tender, not rushed or needy. As you two pulled back, his hand held onto your arm for a few minutes. 

“That was so good. I can’t wait to do it again.” He smiled at you. “Me either, Jack.” So he leaned in and placed his lips to yours, this time the kiss was deeper. He put his hand in your hair and pulled you between his legs. His tongue swiped across your lips, asking for entrance. You parted your lips and Jack deepened the kiss more. You moaned into his mouth.

The kiss was incredible, sending chills through your body. When the two of you finally pulled apart, you both smiled at each other. “Well, Mr. Durfy, you should head home to rest. I’ll see you later.” He smiled, “Yeah, I’ll see you after your shift. I need to go finish up some stuff before I call it a day. You shook your head, “Jack, please go home and rest. Whatever it is can wait.” 

Jack got off the table and grabbed his shirt, putting it on, “I’ll think about it.” He placed another soft kiss on your lips and smirked. 

“I’m never going to stop kissing you, I hope you know that.” “Good, because I don’t want you too. I’ll see you later, Jack.” “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” 

With that, Jack grabbed his things and left the ER. You were left finishing your shift, thinking about the shared kiss and what it will mean for your future. You hoped it meant the beginning of something wonderful, but you were still guarded, and not just for your sake, but for Tommy. Only time will tell for sure.

Part 2….Coming Soon

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[wroetominter]

Insecurity - Harry Lewis

It sure has been awhile, I don’t even know how to preface an imagine anymore. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Y/N X Harry

Warnings: slight angst

Smut: none

——————

It was no secret Harry had jumpstarted my career. We started YouTube around the same time, both doing our own things and genuinely having a good time. His channel had started to kick off very quickly, with him beginning to gain subscribers almost immediately. My channel? Not so much. I had a steady ten thousand subscribers well over two years into it. Where as Harry, had over three million - and had joined a YouTube group - "The Sidemen".

I had since that time decided to stream instead. It was my element. I loved it. Still love it. Harry had popped into one of my streams quickly to say hello, and ask for my Nando's order. This grasped the attention of thousands upon thousands of viewers - who were now turning up stream after stream. I thanked him endlessly, finally being able to support myself with my content career, and leaving the stuffy job I had worked to make my money.

Now, I lived in a beautiful two bedroom flat in central London. With floor to ceiling windows, I found myself often just staring out of them and wondering, "is this real life?"

Flash forward to the current moment, I opened my window and the crisp, cool air flooded into the flat. My curtains gently blew next to me as I closed my eyes and took in the smell of autumn air. I stretched and took in my surroundings. The city skyline was backlit by a gorgeous pink and orange sunrise, making it nearly impossible to stop staring.

I was pulled from my daydream by the soft buzzing of my phone on my duvet. I grabbed it to find messages from a few friends, and some twitter notifications. I opened the small blue app to see I had been tagged in tons of videos.

I opened a few, seeing that they were all the same clip from what looked to be a stream. Harry's stream. He was playing some geoguessr, and seemed to be at a lull in the game - answering questions.

"Why don't you stream with Y/n anymore?" He read as the donation popped on the screen. You could almost see the instant regret in his eyes as he read it.

"Oh erm, I guess we just sort of fell out of touch. No hard feelings or anything she's lovely, I'd love to catch up with her" I didn't even know what to think. Fell out of touch? I don't quite remember it that way.

— 10 months prior—

Harry and I had been hanging out nearly every day. We were basically joined at the hip. We were doing everything together.

Streaming, eating, going for walks. We basically merged our lives together.

"What's got you all crabby" Harry asked.

"Nothing nothing, just my silly imagination" I was truthfully imagining what would happen if I grabbed his hand as we walked through the heart of our neighborhood.

Harry and I had, what I considered to be a blossoming relationship. We were keeping it to ourselves, only to make sure this was what we wanted before effectively announcing it to the whole world.

In private, we were all over each other. Cuddling on the couch, sneaking kisses in bed as I forced Harry to watch my favorite shows. Public was an entirely different story. Even in front of his flat mates, we were just mates, even if it hurt in those moments.

It all came down to about four months into our relationship. I felt we had it figured out with us. We were at a point in our relationship where we were probably only days or weeks from the ‘I love you' talk. We had certainly sealed the deal in more ways than one, by this time.

We had many conversations about bringing our relationship to the public, not our viewers, but our close friends and family.

Harry seemed to be skeptical, questioning every word I said.

"What if it gets leaked out. Then what?" He asked. He seemed very stressed about the situation.

"Then we handle it the same way everyone else does? Just set our boundaries with what we want to say to the viewers and keep the rest private." I explained calmly.

"I don't think I can handle that." He stated.

My head turned slightly to the side at that comment. Confused by what he meant, I asked.

"I just mean, what if we break up? How will that look to the fans? Like I'm just a womanizer dropping women left and right?" He was referencing the few girls who in previous points of his career he had been seen snogging in clubs and never bringing them up again.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat, oh. So this was all about him. "That may be the most selfish thing I have ever heard." I said softly. I was heart broken that all he seemed to be thinking about was us breaking up. "I thought we were in a really good spot, Harry." His pacing stopped and he looked over at me, seeing the tears brimming my eyes.

"Y/n, no... no... I don't mean it like that." He tried to back pedal.

I was too upset to hear it at that moment, gathering my bag and standing up, wiping my tears on the hoodie of his I was wearing. "Ill make this easy for both of us. No need to go public with something that doesn't exist anymore." I said, leaving the flat.

I can't even remember if he tried to come after me at this point. All I remember is the hurt that it caused, wondering if I would ever get over it.

—present moment—

I shuddered, partially at the chill enveloping the room and partially at the memory of leaving Harry standing there. I trailed over to my closet, reaching in the back for the all too familiar fabric of Harry's hoodie I left with that day. I hadn't washed it, so it still very faintly smelled of his flat.

I decided to get myself ready for the day, dressing casually and cleaning up so I could stream. I was planning to play some dead by daylight with Talia, and then probably some solo game if I felt up to it.

Mid way through the day, as I was still streaming, a notification appeared on my phone.

Harry: can we talk?

Not wanting to lose my poker face on stream, I sat my phone down, ignoring the message for now.

Harry: I'm watching your stream, I know you're ignoring me. I don't blame you, I just want to talk.

I gave in, typing back a quick '0kay, you know where I am' and went back to my game.

Barely an hour had passed since my stream ended. I had taken a shower and just started to cook myself a meal.

A small knock at my door broke me from my trance that I was in cooking up some dinner. I shuffled to the door, opening it to find Harry standing there in a pair of Sidemen joggers and a Nike crewneck. He seemed older, or perhaps that was a trick of the eye caused by the facial hair he was now sporting.

"Come in," I stepped aside and let him in. He came silently and sat at my island, watching me finish up my food and dishing us both up a plate. It was my worst habit, eating when I was nervous. I had no idea what he was planning to say.

"I'm sorry" he said. Nothing further, just he was sorry.

"I was hurt." I blurted. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I know, and I would take it back in a second if I could. I wouldn't have said anything I did, it pained me to see your face when I said that" I tried to speak but nothing came out. "I still care for you. A lot. I have feelings for you, deep feelings that I can't shake. Not that I want to. You didn't deserve what I said to you. You deserve better than me but I selfishly still want you. I'm praying that I'm not making a fool out of myself here." A flush had overcome his face.

"You're not." His eyes lit up, head snapping up to meet my gaze. "I don't blame you for what you said. I know you were only worried what would happen to us. But you can't let that dictate your life. Yes, we could have broken up. But that's something that's always a possibility in a relationship. That doesn't mean you give up on it."

"I know," he started. "I feel like you were too good to be real. I know that sounds cliche, but truthfully you are too good for me, and always have been." I sighed,

"Harry, you know me better than this. I want you. Is that not enough?" I asked.

"Want? As in present tense?" I blushed, turning my head to the side.

"Yeah, I guess I'm not over you, like I tried to convince myself I was." I said.

He pushed his plate up, moving to my side of the table and wrapping his arms around me. I felt like we were transported to almost a year ago, when him and I were inseparable. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight. Taking in his warmth and comfort.

"I missed my best friend" he whispered in my ear. "And if that's all you want, that's fine. I just need you in my life" my heart fluttered as he said this, holding my face in his large hands.

"Don't be silly Harry," I said, leaning toward him to seal the space between our lips. The kiss was short and sweet. "I missed you too".

[milliesfishes]

pleaseeeee do billy with a reader who wants to be a writer/singer/ any type of artist (your choice!!) but her family pushes her to do something more traditional like an engineer or doctor or a lawyer

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻(𝓶𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷 𝓪𝓾)𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝓯𝓮𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓭

Your voice was unrivaled in Billy's opinion, rich as a nightingale's smooth as the glassy surface of a lake. He'd spent many an evening in the front row of your performance settings, unable to control his grin as he watched you light up the room with your talent.

It was a slice of heaven. You were radiant when you sang, decorating the space of time with whatever melody lifted your voice. Evidently clear, you were at your happiest when the stage lights were on you, ears perked to take in your song.

As your man, he had special rights when it came to shows, being ushered backstage to meet you as you walked off. You would run to him first always, jumping into his arms with the applause-driven adrenaline fresh in your body. Giggling, you would ask him if he liked it, genuinely wondering. He never lied to you- he had never seen a bad performance by you.

So great was your talent that people with important names and good connections came to scout you, determining whether or not they wanted you on their roster. The answer was nearly always yes- you had a bevy of business cards in your side drawer, just begging to be indulged in. Billy tried to push you into it- he knew it was your dream.

But the disapproving opinions of your family always put an end to any hoping. They supported your talent, recognized that you loved it. But whenever the conversation turned to making a career out of your voice, everything was shot down. The first time it had happened, you'd been starry eyed and hopeful, sure that they would be happy that you'd found the thing you wanted to do most.

Later that night you had called him crying. singing for a paycheck wasn't practical, they said. It was fine to do it for fun or in church, but otherwise you should focus on more serious pursuits. A steady career would do you good. He'd stayed on the line with you for hours, assuring you that it had nothing to do with how good you were. In a misguided way, they were trying to protect you from rejection, from the cruelties that came with being an artist.

Still, you persevered. He was proud of you and how despite objections you continued to perform, earning money in that way along with your day job. Still, you were cautious about contacting any of the agents who approached you gushing after a show.

"The thing is," you told Billy one night in bed, head in his lap after an hour-long performance, eyes closed as he ran his fingers through your hair soothingly. "The chances of me failing are a lot smaller if I use an agency. Even if I have to wait out success, that wouldn't be so bad."

Opening your eyes, you stared up at him, a new kind of determination reflected in you. "I think I'm going to call one of them, Billy. This is what I want to do."

He was quiet for a moment, fingers stilling against your scalp. You seemed to hold your breath, waiting anxiously for his response. Would he reject you like you were used to? You braced yourself for the sting of sharp words.

But instead he leaned down, brushing his lips against your head. One hand framed the side of your face, and he smiled down at you. "If it's what you want, then I'm with you."

Relief crashed over you, and you sat up, arms flying around his neck. "Thank you." He nosed a kiss into your hair, cuddling you close.

"No need to thank me. 's my job ain't it? I'll always be your biggest fan," he murmured, swaying back and forth. "Whatever's up ahead, I've gotcha baby. You're always gonna have me."