#do NOT look too closely at the texts. please

[hannieween]

gambler | heartbreaker series | c.sc

Plans do not always come to fruition. That was one of the hardest truths that Seungcheol had to come to grips with.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, fluff, smut (MDNI) ✧ aus: established relationship, boss seungcheol, gambler cheol, bartender reader ✧ word count: 14.9k

✧ warnings: descriptions of depression. cheol is possessive, mentions of therapy, alcohol consumption, smut with plot, daddy kink, dom seungcheol, sub reader, reader is on birth control, big dick seungcheol, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, jealousy, exhibitionism: sex in the workspace, they have a voyeur. dirty talk. pet names: love, pretty, baby, angel (hers) babe, boss, daddy (his)

���🎧: ghost – baekhyun | amnesia – kai | losing game – leo | love is banned – gemini | can we talk again – purple kiss | i'm fine – d.o | night view – monsta x | mood – dpr ian | rainy days – v | last night – jxw | sapphire blue – jiwoo

✧ thank you to @hhaechansmoless and @coupsiedaisee for proofreading this for me ♡

› series masterlist – general masterlist – taglist

✧ author's note: i cannot for the life of me not insert myself into my fics. some of the story beats in this one are too close to my heart. might be the most personal one so far so pardon the angst ? this chapter is an emotional roller coaster if i do say so myself

✧ author's note pt. 2: this chapter is told in a non-linear way. so it has a lot of time skips. you're warned. bye ✌🏻

✧ disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

part v

Two years ago 

Plans do not always come to fruition. That was one of the hardest truths that Seungcheol had to come to grips with. No matter how much effort or heart he put into something, sometimes it still wouldn’t be enough. 

But what he could never reconcile, was that he had lost you. 

Even though, deep down, he knew that he wasn’t entirely to blame for the breakup, the thought haunted him. He could’ve done more. He should’ve fought harder. He had always feared he would lose you someday, as if something so good was never meant to belong to him.  

Still, the day you left felt wrong. He replayed it in his mind ten times, twenty, a hundred. Every word you said, every change on your face, everything leading up to the end. He should’ve done this, he thought, his stomach twisted painfully. He should’ve said that. He fell into an endless spiral of what ifs, mourning the version of his life where you were still in it. 

He missed you.

Turning over in bed, he wrapped an arm around a pillow and sighed. He couldn’t even cry anymore.  

It was four in the morning. He knew before he even checked his phone. He had become an expert in tracking the time spent in silence, in ignoring the missing calls, and unread texts from friends trying to reach him. None of it mattered. 

His eyelids felt heavy, but sleep was no escape. In his dreams, he always found you. Flashes of secret glances across the library tables, the way you’d lift your head just to peek at him—smiling shyly because he always caught you looking. Other times, the dreams turned into nightmares, reliving the abrupt ending of what you had together, the last moments before you walked away. 

The pad of his finger hovered over the shared folder on his phone. He swallowed hard, the familiar knot twisting in his stomach. 

Apparently, you had forgotten about the folder. The folder where your photos were automatically backed up. Seungcheol never moved a single thing, as though keeping it untouched might preserve his last connection to you just a little longer. Before you noticed and end that too. 

One week after the breakup, you erased all the photos of you together. Every trace you had together was erased on social media. But somehow, you had forgotten about the shared folder. Or maybe you missed him too. Maybe you wanted to hold on a little longer.  

At first, he avoided his phone entirely, pretending his phone didn’t exist. But then—something happened. 

One night, the folder updated.

Seungcheol felt a pain so sharp, he was sure it would kill him. Seeing your name on his screen made the pain in his chest tighter. He stopped dead in his tracks, bringing a finger to press on your name, he held his breath.

Updated a minute ago

His heart had pounded in his ears. He braced himself to see you to be wrecked all over by the sight of your face. 

But no. The photos weren’t of you. They were of the sky. A sunset, painted in soft pinks and burning oranges.

That was the first night of his downward spiral.

He almost felt embarrassed by what came next. He didn’t fall to his knees. He didn’t scream or break down sobbing. 

Instead, he checked the folder every single night. Waiting. Hoping. Not for the sky. Not for another sunset or sunrise. 

For you. 

It soon became his addiction, this quiet, but self-inflicted torment. The nights without an update were the worst. Just like this one. The thought of you realizing he still had access to the folder made him sick to his stomach. Maybe you had figured it out, maybe that’s why the updates had stopped. 

Seungcheol locked his phone and tossed it somewhere in the tangled sheets. 

Were you as lonely as he was?

Staring at the ceiling, he let the memories play again in his head. It was a dangerous game, replaying his own heartbreak like a song stuck on repeat. 

Why did he like hurting so much?

If he could only hear your voice again. But he made a promise to himself: no matter how bad it got, no matter how much it tore him apart, he wouldn’t reach out to you. He wouldn’t do that to you. 

His hand groped blindly for the whisky bottle on his nightstand, but he met nothing but the empty glass. 

The phone buzzed somewhere in the sheets. He went rigid. The vibrations drummed against his ear. He ignored it at first. 

But what if it was you?

The knot in his stomach tightened unbearably as he reached for his phone, his heart slamming against his ribs. His fingers fumbled through the sheets, desperate searching. 

The aching feeling inside him was soothed at the moment he saw your name on the screen. Relief flooded his chest—you were still there. He even felt rewarded, in some twisted way. You always updated him around this time. 

But the relief was fleeting. 

The pain returned a thousand times worse. 

He shot up too fast, dizziness crashing over him, not just from the alcohol, but from the sheer force of you. Blood rushed to his head, leaving him unsteady. 

There you were. Your eyes. 

He could read it in them instantly—you were sad. That was undeniable. But there was something else too, something softer. A glint. Catching in the pale morning light that bathed your face. Maybe it was hope. 

Seeing your face for the first time in what felt like a lifetime was brutal. The image blurred. His vision swam. The phone slipped from his fingers, landing somewhere on the bed as he pressed his hands to his face. Don’t cry, don’t cry, he repeated, a strangled sound muffled against his palms. 

He should have stopped you from leaving.

It was seven in the morning when he finally surfaced from the spiral. 

Sunlight leaked through the cracks in the curtains, stabbing at his tired eyes. The bedsheets were tangled around him. Clothes were scattered across the floor—abandoned, forgotten. The whole room was a mess, but none of it compared to the mess inside his heart, his head. 

Still, he sat there. A near catatonic state. Eyes open but seeing nothing. 

He could not keep living like this. 

His chest felt heavy as he reached for his phone. Seungcheol scrolled through a hundred and fifty-seven texts from Jeonghan before typing two words. 

I’m fine.

His fingers hovered over the screen. Switching tabs to see your face one more time. And with a pause of hesitation, he opened his phone settings, hitting the hard reset button. 

He had to let you go. 

It was nine in the morning when he heard an urgent knock at the front door. He had gotten good at ignoring that too. But this time, he went to get it. He already knew it would be. 

The door creaked open. “Hi,” Seungcheol croaked, realizing he had not spoken to a living being in days.

Jeonghan’s head snapped up from where he had been staring at the ground. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. The way his shoulders tensed, the caution in his every movement, it told Seungcheol everything. 

Jeonghan entered the apartment, gaze flitting over the place—the place Seungcheol once shared with you. Your things were packed into moving boxes, stacked in the corner, waiting to be sent back to your parents’ house. 

His stuff was in moving boxes too.

Because there wasn’t a single corner of this place that wasn’t haunted by you. So, he had to let go of that, too. 

Seungcheol had to take life’s lessons the hard way. Plans do not always come to fruition, yes. But that could also mean that he had the chance to make new plans. Or at least, that is what the therapist told him.

Breakups are hard. 

After moving to a different neighbourhood, Seungcheol quit his office job. Then, in what everyone around him thought it was a fit of madness, he purged his entire life of you. He got new clothes. He died his hair, he let it grow. He re-did the piercings in his earlobes. He got a new phone. 

If burying his past self meant forgetting you, he’d dig that grave himself.

“Are you sure about this?” 

Changkyun leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the money stacked neatly between them. 

“I’m sure,” Seungcheol replied, tone flat.

Changkyun clicked his tongue, tilting his head. “It’s a big investment.” 

“One I’m willing to make.”

The money had been purposed for something else once. Something permanent. Something that, at one point, had been his future. 

It was the money he had saved to start a life with you. Now, it lay before him in neat stacks, repurposed for something else entirely.  

“I’ll tell my guy,” Changkyun shrugged, unconvinced. Then, a pause, a frown. “What exactly are you planning to do with the place?” 

Seungcheol knew it was a gamble. This plan might fail. This plan might succeed. He did not know for certain. But he wanted to say that at least say he tried it. 

With every fiber of his being, he wanted this.

“I’m turning it into a bar.”

Starting a new chapter in his life felt odd sometimes. Even if he had made it forbidden to think of you, he would wonder if you felt the same too.

Breakups are odd.

This new chapter of his life had him rewriting bits of himself that once included you in some way. It was seeing things with brand new eyes.

As the plan of opening a bar was in the works, new opportunities were falling to his lap. Jeonghan decided to take the offer of co-owning the bar, thus absorbing part of the investments too and making it a little bit easier to open it sooner.

Also, it was gaining some traction. People would stop and ask what the old pizza place would turn into.

“I have a friend that might be a good addition to your bar. He’s clever, and made for this, he’s kind of a night owl,” Changkyun mentioned one night in passing, looking around the place with an impressed look on his face.

“Bring him in,” Seungcheol nodded. He had been thinking of putting up hiring ads somewhere, but he kept pushing the task out of procrastination.

However, Changkyun’s friend was a true blessing in disguise. The guy turned up the following day as Seungcheol was putting up the shelves where he meant to display bottles of whisky and rum.

Crossing the doorway with a curious look on his face, he knocked on the countertop to draw Seungcheol’s attention over the loud hammering.

Upon looking at him, he knew it was Changkyun’s friend.

“You are?” Seungcheol pushed his eyebrows up.

The guy was about to utter something, but after hearing Seungcheol’s dry words, he just stammered: “Jeon Wonwoo.”

Seungcheol made no follow-up comment whatsoever, the moment dragged on silently, he arched his eyebrows higher this time.

“I-I’m here for the job offer. I’m a friend of Changkyun’s,” he explained, pushing the rim of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Have you ever managed a bar before?”

Jeon Wonwoo nodded his head once. “Yes.”

“Right. Come here tomorrow at five. We can cover all of the details then.”

Seungcheol felt glad he took that leap of faith. Most nights, he would walk around his bar feeling proud to have come this far and have a successful business all by his own. 

He felt glad that the pain in his heart was starting to heal. 

Breakups are funny. Because sometimes—though not often—he would wonder what you would think of him now. And when he did, he surprised himself. The thought of you didn’t hurt anymore. Seungcheol had nearly forgotten the sound of your voice, the way you used to say his name. 

Two years had passed since that night. Two years of nothing but himself. The bar had become his whole world—the buzzing sounds of conversations over loud music, clinking noises, people laughing filling the silence where your voice used to be. The people he met now became small anchors to keep himself afloat and not think of the ghost of you. 

He had built something from the ground up, he found something that was entirely for his own. 

Even if he dared to think of you, it no longer felt like a punch to the gut. The weight of missing you, the constant need to look for you everywhere he looked was no more. The pain had grown dull, the memory of you something distant. Seungcheol had, at last, moved on. 

Or he thought he had. 

The busier he kept, the better. That had been his mindset for the past two years, and time had passed in a blur. And if he let himself be honest, he’d have to admit that he was content with his life. 

Seungcheol sank into the lounge chair in the living room, a heavy sigh slipping past his lips as he reclined against the soft leather. A glass of whiskey rested on his thigh, his fingers loosely curled around it.

Silence reigned in his apartment, a stark contrast to the loud buzzing noise from the bar, it almost left him feeling overwhelmed. It was three in the morning—the usual time he got home after another long night at the bar. By now, it was routine. Second nature. 

He licked his lips, shutting his eyes for a moment. It was one of those rare nights when his mind drifted where he didn’t want it to, wandering down a path that always led to you. Were you alright? If so, were you loved?

In the darkness behind his closed eyelids, he saw you. He saw you sitting across the uni library, smiling because he caught you looking at him. His grip tightened around the cold glass, a flicker of something sharp twisting in his chest. 

Seungcheol exhaled slowly, opening his eyes to take one generous gulp from his glass. The whiskey burned deeply, it was sharp and smoky, lingering in the back of his throat. He looked at the bottom of his glass, thinking of pouring another to quiet down his thoughts before going to bed. 

After all this time, he shouldn’t be thinking about you. 

But it was impossible to stop now. He tilted the glass on his fingers very slightly, his gaze unfocused. He remembered the way your fingers used to trace shapeless patterns on his skin, the quiet hum of your voice in the mornings, the way you would giggle in between morning kisses. Seungcheol wondered if you still did that, if someone else was on the receiving end now. 

His chest tightened, the pain so hard that he had to take another large gulp of whiskey, deciding to pour another one. He had convinced himself he’d moved on. But nights like this, when the world seemed to stop and his thoughts were so loud they buzzed in his ears, he wasn’t so sure. 

Because even after all this time, even after building himself a life in opulence and arduous work, he still thought of you. 

He leaned over the coffee table, pouring more whiskey into the glass and the half-melted ice spheres. The apartment was too quiet, too still, so much so that he felt a prisoner to it. Like somehow the stillness was to blame that he was thinking of you. 

Seungcheol tilted his head back against the chair, swallowing hard to try to dissolve the feeling coiling around his throat. Staring at the ceiling, the grip around the glass of whiskey loosened, right before he allowed himself to remember. 

It was a late night. You were curled up on his couch back at his old, tiny apartment. You were currently fighting sleep while waiting for him to finish looking over something. Seungcheol was working late, going over some accounts from his old office job. He didn’t remember what had him so busy, but it didn’t matter now. What he remembered about that night was that you refused to go to bed without him. 

You were staying over at his apartment, he doesn’t remember the reason why. But you were slightly irritated that you were staying over, and he was working on some accounts. 

“Just a few more minutes,” he had told you, glancing over the stack of papers. 

You had hummed something in response, your eyes already slipping shut. 

When he finally had set the papers down, you were already deeply asleep on the couch. Seungcheol sat down beside you, and you had barely stirred, except that some seconds later, you had leaned into him, your body instinctively seeking out for him even in sleep. 

Seungcheol had smiled to himself, welcoming you in a careful, but loving embrace. The seconds passed, but he made no move to carry you to bed yet, he enjoyed the peace and quiet moment with you. 

It was nothing special. It was just a regular night. And yet somehow, it was everything he ever wanted. 

And now, he was sitting alone and in silence. 

Seungcheol let out a quiet scoff in amusement, and regret. 

Funny, the things you miss.  

The next morning, he woke with a sharp inhale. His neck felt stiff from the awkward angle against the headrest of the couch. A deep groan left him as he blinked lazily, the morning light spilling through the window made him grimace a bit. 

Running a hand down his face, he groan, his brain feeling sluggish and struggling to catch up with the fact that he had fallen asleep thinking about you. 

Seungcheol hated falling asleep on the couch. It always left him feeling unrested, and disorientated, like he’d lost track of something. 

The now empty whiskey glass sat in front of him on the coffee table. He wanted to lay the blame on the alcohol, but deep down he knew that he had just gone through a moment of weakness. 

The memory of you still clung to him, like an echo refusing to leave his mind. Even out of his life and far away from him, you were still stubborn. Still refusing to leave, branding a mark within him deeply. Irritation flared beneath his skin, making his blood boil. He didn’t have time for this, not today, not ever again. 

He pushed himself up, his steps taking him straight to the bathroom to have a shower. Even as the scalding hot water hit his back, the weight in his body refused to leave.  

It didn’t matter. He had a job, he had a bar to run. And if there was one thing that he’d learned in the past two years since that, it was that staying busy kept the ghosts at bay. 

For now. 

The bar was barely active with the first tasks of the day. The kitchen was getting ready, the noise from the staff moving around, the clatter of glassware carried all the way to the front of the bar.

The tables were vacant, everything was tidied and ready for the day ahead. Wonwoo, who was sitting on one of the booths was already active and sorting out what tasks needed to be done before the first costumers showed up. 

The bar had a unique smell every morning before opening hours. The low humming noises from the staff gearing up for the day, everything around him felt like home to Seungcheol. Work, it was what grounded him. At least it usually did. 

But today, the weight of the restless night clung to him, the ghost of you still following him wherever he turned to. 

“Rough morning?” 

Seungcheol glanced to the booth that was pushed all the way back. “Didn’t sleep well,” he replied to Wonwoo. 

“Yeah, well,” Wonwoo sucked in a breath slowly. “That makes two of us,” he exhaled. 

Seungcheol sat down on the booth too, crossing his arms on the table. He rolled his shoulders before sitting back on the seat, brush those thoughts away, he told himself. 

“What do we have today?” Seungcheol nodded to the notes sitting beneath Wonwoo’s hands. 

“Let’s see,” Wonwoo began, skimming through his notes. “We have suppliers coming in two hours. I have a newbie to show the ropes to. And we haven’t paid the Haze boys yet,” he mentioned aloofly.

“I already did last night,” Seungcheol replied quickly. 

“Got it,” Wonwoo said as he checked the reminder off. He lifted his head, looking at Seungcheol, but then something else caught his attention. “Oh, the newbie is here.”

“Hi,” a tiny voice replied in the background.

He should have listened to the alarm bells in the back of his head, the ones screaming at him to pay attention to that voice. But Wonwoo was already moving, an eager smile on his face, Seungcheol, and he should’ve noticed that too.

Seungcheol may have forgotten the sound of your voice. But he would never, never forget your face.

And in that moment, he wished he was seeing a stranger. 

Because the way your expression froze, the way the light in your eyes dimmed, told him everything he needed to know.

He was seeing a ghost. 

It couldn’t be you. You were on the other side of the planet. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

The shock hit him so hard, it left an echoing pain in his chest, so deep he nearly dropped to his knees. His breath turned shallow. The floor beneath him suddenly felt unsteady, he almost began to think that the entire place around him had turned against him, showing him a mirage of you. 

The following moments were a blur. He made up some dumb excuse—he didn’t even remember what he had said—and ran away from the bar, barely registering Wonwoo’s confused look as Seungcheol made his exit to the nearest bathroom. 

There, leaning face-first against the door, his hands braced against the cool surface, he had to make a choice.

He could pretend to not know you at all. Accept you in his bar, his safe haven and keep his distance like a stranger. 

Or he could refuse. Tell you to look for a job elsewhere. 

The first choice meant keeping you close while never going near you. 

The second meant losing you all over again. 

It was another gamble.

But there was one thought he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried. Why on earth were you looking for a job? His mind reeled uncontrollably, he lost track of his surroundings, his body. Months before you broke up with him, you had taken on a part-time job—but that was different. That had been your choice, something temporary. 

This? This felt like something else entirely. 

Seungcheol had cut off all contact with you, so he had no idea about your family either. He never imagined that you had been cut off, this time completely. 

Even after years of not seeing your face, he could still read you perfectly. One glimpse, and he noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the slight off-color on your cheeks and lips. You were tired. Worried.

When he finally mustered the strength to move, he went back to the bar. And there you were—sitting in the same spot he had occupied moments before. 

Something happened. Something baffling. 

He felt his heart and mind split between the person he used to be and the person he was now. 

For a moment, it was as if time had folded in on itself, pulling him back to the first time he saw you sitting in the library all those years ago. He remembered the way he felt then—the quiet pull of intrigue and fascination, the way he used to watch you from a distance before he ever worked up the nerve to ask you out. 

You were the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on. 

And God, he had missed you.

Every cell in his body screamed at him to move, to go near you. His fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out, to touch you, to prove that you were real and indeed not a ghost. It was almost funny—how the world stopped the moment he saw you, yet in his mind, everything was happening at light speed. 

He felt angry at you for showing up in his life like nothing happened. He felt angry that with one look at you, his life came apart. 

And then, realization settled deep in his chest. 

If he let you walk away now, he would wonder about you every day. Again. And he refused to go through that a second time. 

So he took another leap of faith.

Present time 

“So?” 

“So, what?” you asked slowly as you tied the apron behind your back. 

Jeon Wonwoo was leaning on the countertop, elbows planted, phone in hand. “You spent weeks playing me for a fool,” he said with a sheepish smile—one that he didn’t quite hide all the way as he stood upright, rubbing the tip of his nose with his knuckle.

“Listen,” you begun with a light chuckle, eyes flickering around the room in case Seungcheol was nearby. “I was just curious, and-,” 

“I get why you did it,” he said, lifting a palm and shaking it dismissively. 

“Oh. Then why—”

“I think I am owed an apology,” Wonwoo muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

“I am sorry,” you said dumbly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. And that I… took advantage of that and snooped a bit.”

Wonwoo tilted his head back slightly, the grin growing on his face. “I don’t want a verbal apology.” 

You gaped at him. “Why do I feel like I’m not going to like where this is going?” 

He pursed his lips—the same look he always had when he was toying with a cheeky idea. “One day I’m going to ask a favor from you. And that is how you’ll repent.” 

“That’s blackmail,” you pointed, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“No different from you playing dumb and ask me questions about your ex for weeks,” he rolled his eyes. “So?” 

“Are you being serious, Wonwoo?” 

“Dead serious.” 

You sighed, looking around one more time. The bar was already in open hours, but it was still early to have a lot of customers, to the exception of the ones who regularly showed up within the hour of opening. 

“Fine,” you gritted. 

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle, returning to his task behind the bar. “I do forgive you,” he said. “But I will ask a favor from you. Soon.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, throwing your arms in the air. “I’m at your disposal, I guess.”

“It’s just something I need help with, no big deal,” he shrugged.

“Is it about… work?” You grabbed a dishcloth, pretending to clean the nearest cup.

Wonwoo tilted his head, considering his words. “Yes and no.” He chuckled lightly, but his gaze lingered a beat too long.

“I hate the suspense,” you said, trying to keep your voice flat.

“And I hate being lied to,” he shot back, though his smile was small, almost amused. “I’m keeping the suspense until I claim that favor.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, knowing full well you were pressing his buttons.

“So you’re not even going to deny it?” Wonwoo’s smirk stretched as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Would it make a difference?” You sighed, already regretting every choice that had led to this moment.

“Not really,” he admitted, tilting his head. “But I figured I’d give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Is it going to be like this now?”

“Blackmail is suddenly very acceptable now that I found you out,” he said sweetly, but the glint in his eyes told you he was enjoying this way too much.

“Wonwoo.” You shot him a warning look.

“Fine, fine.” He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “But you have to admit, this is a fascinating situation. The two of you, playing strangers while making eyes at each other when you think no one’s looking—”

“We are not making eyes at each other,” you snapped, a little too fast.

“Oh?” His grin widened. “Must I remind you how I found you two out?”

Your stomach twisted. You sent a quick glance around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear. “Look, you wouldn’t understand—”

“Exactly why wouldn’t I understand?” His smirk faded, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the checkered floor. The real reason felt too raw to say aloud. You had spent weeks toeing around Seungcheol’s life without stepping directly into it, and Wonwoo—whether he realized it or not—had been your connection to the pieces of him you hadn’t been brave enough to face. You needed to know how broken he had been before you could allow yourself to be closer again.

“Because I hurt him too much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I was scared to come back into his life. I was ashamed.”

Wonwoo studied you for a long moment before exhaling, his teasing demeanor softening. “Why did you come back?” he asked, like he was peeling away the last layer of the truth.

Your throat tightened. The answer had always been simple, but saying it out loud made it feel so much heavier. You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I never wanted to leave.”

His expression shifted completely, the guarded amusement replaced by something much quieter. “I get it,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand landed on your shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. “Hey. Don’t worry,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “This doesn’t make me think badly of you.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding. “Thank you,” you muttered, offering a small smile.

Wonwoo winked before stepping away, getting back to his task before opening hours. But something in the way he left made you uneasy. He wasn’t entirely done with this conversation.

And worse—something told you that whatever Wonwoo was holding back also had to do with Seungcheol. 

It was a slow day that day, only a handful of customers walked through the door, and the hours dragged on. But with the end of your shift approaching, you found yourself more relaxed than eager to leave. 

For once, the guys had behaved. No teasing, no snooping, almost like some rule had been put in place to avoid the subject. You suspected that Seungcheol had something to do with that.

Not that he had much time to show for it. He’d been busy—placing orders, making phone calls, handling payments, coordinating deliveries for the kitchen, and making sure the bar was stocked with everything it needed. And, most importantly, he had taken on the task of training the new hire, Chan.

Chan was in his first week. He was younger than you, bubbly, and had a good attitude. But he’d made one mistake on his very first day. Wonwoo, as a way to get his payback, had decided that Chan would shadow you in some of the complicated tasks, like how to operate the system, or the terminals. 

Having him as a shadow was fine. Except for one thing. 

“You’ll be shadowing her,” Wonwoo motioned to your direction. 

“Hi, there,” you said, offering a quick wave. Then you turned around, resuming to tending your tables. 

Chan barely hesitated before muttering under his breath, “Jesus. She’s fucking hot.” 

Wonwoo tensed up, coughing lightly. “Shut up,” he muttered, throwing a look over his shoulder. 

You thought of turning around and just shut the guy down. But unaware of the silent warning, Chan remained completely oblivious. Especially to the fact that his new boss, Seungcheol, was standing right behind him. 

Seungcheol’s jaw was tightly clasped, deciding to say nothing and looking away instead. Chan unfortunately, remained oblivious and exceptionally bad at hiding his attraction to you. 

And this shift was no different. Chan remained completely unbeknownst to the fact that he had walked straight into dangerous territory, and even more surprising still, he didn’t realize that Seungcheol had him in his sight.

The moment Chan started following you around the bar, Seungcheol just happened to stick around more. At first it wasn’t as evident, since he was normally in the bar doing inventory, paperwork, making calls, he practically lived here. But today, he was suddenly very hands-on. 

“Here, let me show you,” Seungcheol said, stepping in just as Chan was having a hard time learning how to use the shaker. Seungcheol took the shaker from his hands with a practiced ease, his presence instantly noticeable. “Watch carefully. You want to get the grip right, or you’ll make a mess.”

Chan nodded eagerly, completely missing the way Seungcheol’s gaze flickered toward you for a fraction of a second. You did not miss it.

Your stomach tightened, breath hitching slightly. You were sure you saw Wonwoo’s lips curve slightly, what solidified your shame was the gentle nudging of his elbow as you passed beside him. 

This battle continued throughout the shift. Whenever you were nearby, Seungcheol was there too—adjusting bottles, correcting a pour, explaining to Chan how things were done. At one point, you reached for a glass at the same time as Seungcheol, your fingers barely brushing his. A brief, fleeting contact, but enough for you to catch the smug look on his face. He didn’t smile, but there was something flashing across his features. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He just raised a brow in silent amusement, using his tongue to brush the smile that was beginning to form on his lips. 

And Chan? Completely unaware. It was almost as though he felt proud that it was the boss who was showing him the ropes. 

However the most perplexing thing was that Seungcheol made no obvious move to show Chan that you were his girlfriend. Years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to use a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. Or he wouldn’t have hesitated to call you love or angel in front of everyone.

Seungcheol loved claiming what was his. So the fact that he was not doing so openly made you feel obfuscated. 

“He’s making a point,” Wonwoo said as he walked past you at the bar, muttering just loud enough for you to hear. 

You raised your gaze to meet his. “A point?” you asked dumbly. 

Wonwoo grinned, motioning with the tip of his nose at situation happening across the bar—Seungcheol was talking with Chan. The conversation happening so far away that it was very difficult for you to hear. 

“Oh, this is nothing,” you said, sighing heavily. 

Seungcheol spent the rest of the shift hovering. And it became almost funny to you. It wasn’t that obvious, but every time Chan made a move to get close to you, somehow Seungcheol found a way to intervene. 

Whenever you bent over to pull out something from the fridges, Seungcheol intercepted Chan’s line of sight smoothly. Or whenever you stood on your tiptoes to grab a bottle from the shelf, Seungcheol would call for Chan, asking a dumb favor like passing him a lime, or changing the song playing on the speakers. 

You were turning toward the liquor shelf, reaching for a bottle on the top rack when—

“Careful.” 

Seungcheol’s voice came from just behind you, making you freeze instantly in place. His arm was already extending past you, fingers curling around the bottle with ease. His chest pressed against your back and as he retrieved it, you swallowed hard, heart racing at the way his warmth wrapped around you. 

“I had it,” you muttered, turning around on your feet. 

Seungcheol had a smirk planted on his face. “Sure you did,” he said smoothly, his eyebrow quirking up slightly. “Just wanted to help.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your bottom lip to keep you from smiling at him. “Uh-huh.”

Seungcheol leaned towards you, and you instantly sucked in a breath. “What, you don’t believe me?” 

“Is that what you’re doing with Chan?” you countered, unable to step away, his whole frame was caging you in. 

Seungcheol tilted his head, arching his eyebrow. “I’m doing my job.” 

You had nothing to reply to that. Despite Seungcheol engaging in a petty rivalry against Chan, he was doing his job. 

Seungcheol noticed, a sly grin appearing on his face as he sent a glance across the bar. Chan was looking your way, dropping his gaze as soon as you locked eyes with him. “This guy,” Seungcheol hissed. 

Your face started to heat up. “Seungcheol,” you muttered as he motioned towards Chan. 

He turned back, an innocent look on his face. “What?” 

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked, blinking innocently at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, just don’t.”

He grinned, slow and knowing. “I’m just implementing a strict focus during training,” he shrugged with ease. “Can’t have the new hire looking at my girlfriend on his first few days when he should be learning the ropes, right?” 

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Seungcheol.”

“Relax,” he chuckled, pushing off the counter. Then, with an absolutely infuriating wink, he added, “Just having some fun, baby,” he said quietly. And just like that, he strolled off, leaving you to wrestle with the fact that he was definitely enjoying this. 

And worse? So were you.

The usual end-of-shift routine was unfolding. Seungcheol had actually finished his tasks more than an hour ago, and he could’ve gone home already—if he wasn’t your boyfriend. And your ride home.

Somehow, nobody had thought to tell Chan that you were with the boss. And it was too embarrassing for you to just come out and say it. Besides, a small part of you enjoyed the primal reaction Seungcheol had every time Chan so much as looked your way.

So, instead of leaving, Seungcheol kept himself entertained at the pool table, practicing his shots while sipping a beer. Every now and then, he sent glances around the bar. Casual glances, but noticeable—making sure Chan was keeping his comments about you to himself and his eyes on the task at hand.

You were rinsing out a glass when Wonwoo returned from taking out the trash. “Alright, boss,” Wonwoo called. “We’re clocking out!”

Seungcheol was bent over the pool table, eyes locked on the white cue ball just ahead of his stick. He nodded once before executing a smooth shot. “Alright. See you tomorrow, guys. Thanks.”

The door swung shut behind them, leaving just the two of you in the bar. You set down the last piece of glassware to dry on the rack. Washing your hands, you sneaked a glance at Seungcheol, who was biting his bottom lip as he lined up another shot.

“What?” he asked, sensing your scrutiny.

“Nothing,” you huffed, smirking as he looked far too smug about it.

Seungcheol laughed under breath. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you’re busy when you don’t want to answer me.”

You exhaled, rolling your eyes before walking around the bar and grabbing a cue stick from the rack on the wall.

Seungcheol arched an eyebrow. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, gathering the pool balls inside the triangle again.

“No,” you replied simply. “But why didn’t you tell Chan about us?”

Seungcheol shrugged. “The topic never came up.”

“You could’ve told him instead of stalking him like he was about to steal your food,” you teased, cackling at your own description.

“It was better this way,” he said easily. “Doesn’t mess with the workflow, and he keeps his cheerful attitude.” He paused, his gaze narrowing just a little. “He didn’t make you uncomfortable, did he?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Please. He barely even spoke two words to me. He’s harmless. While you on the other hand?” you huffed, leaning over the table to line up the first shot. “You glared at him all night.” 

Seungcheol smirked, leaning against his cue stick. “I don’t glare.” 

You made your shot, sinking a striped ball into the corner pocket. “Oh, you definitely do.” 

He hummed, pursing his lips. Then he step closer as you moved to take your next shot. “I was just making sure my bartender didn’t get distracted.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “By what?”

“By some new guy staring at her.” 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “That is a non-issue,” you pointed, refocusing on your shot. “I could’ve told him I’m with someone, call it a day.” 

Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached out, he ran his fingers down the line of your back just as you were bending down, and placed his palm firmly on the small of your back. 

You hit the cue ball a little too hard, sending it bouncing off the rails without hitting anything else. 

Seungcheol chuckled. “Someone?” he inquired, arching one perfect eyebrow. “Not me?” 

You deadpanned at him. “You know what I mean,” you huffed. 

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “And what do you mean?” he pursed his lips. “Would you have told Chan that you’re with someone instead of just telling him you’re with me?”

Your brows furrowed, straightening up. “What kind of question is that?” 

“A valid one,” he smirked, taking his shot, sinking two balls in quick succession. “You know what, maybe telling him your boyfriend is also his boss would destroy that confidence he has.”

You laughed at him with reluctance. “You’re being kind of a prick.”

Seungcheol didn’t deny it, laughing with you. “Maybe.” He circled the table, standing just behind you now. His voice dipped lower, teasing. “But I think you like it.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back slightly to look at him. “Like what?”

He leaned in just a fraction, enough for his breath to brush your ear. “That you drive me crazy.”

Your throat went dry, breath hitching almost audibly. 

Seungcheol pulled back, his smirk lazy and triumphant. “Your turn.”

You exhaled, gripping your cue stick a little tighter. “Take it back. You’re being a huge prick.”

Seungcheol smirked, stepping back just enough to let you focus, but you could still feel his presence lingering close. Dangerously close. “You haven’t denied it.” 

Rolling your eyes, you lined up your shot, determined not to let him win. You hit the cue ball, this time sinking a solid with a satisfying thump. You straightened and turned to him smugly. “The answer is no. I don’t like that my boyfriend gets all jealous and possessive as soon as he sees other men glance my way.” 

Seungcheol hummed, nodding slowly. “Maybe I should try a little harder, then.” 

You shot him a look. “You should try harder… at the actual game.”

He laughed under his breath. “Alright. Let’s make it interesting, then.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Interesting how?”

“A bet.” He leaned on his cue stick, watching you closely. “If I win, you owe me something.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds like trouble.”

Seungcheol grinned, his heart palpitating with eagerness. “Absolutely.”

You considered for a moment. Winning against Seungcheol was always satisfying, but the path to losing against him… well, that was dangerous territory. “Fine,” you conceded. “But if I win, you owe me something.”

Seungcheol’s eyes glinted with interest. “Deal. What do you want?”

You pretended to think. “An entire week without you messing with me at work.”

He gaped at you for a second. “A whole week?” he huffed, running a hand through his blond hair. “That’s nearly impossible.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. And if I win…” He took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You have to go on a real date with me.”

You blinked, thrown off. “A… real date?” you asked dumbly. 

He shrugged. “You know. Something other than stolen moments between shifts or late-night car rides home.”

“That’s...” you arched one eyebrow. 

Seungcheol smirked. “What? Afraid you’ll lose to me?” he challenged. 

You huffed. “No. Afraid you’ll cheat.”

“I would never,” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Babe, we live together,” you emphasized. 

“And? We haven’t gone out on a date in…” he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Two years and a half,” he said.  

Your heart clenched, realizing he was right. “Fine. Let’s play.”

Seungcheol stepped aside, motioning toward the table. “Ladies first.”

You lined up your shot, focusing harder than before. If you were going to beat Seungcheol, you needed to be unstoppable. 

But just as you were about to strike, Seungcheol muttered, “You know, I really should’ve told Chan.”

You hesitated, glancing up. “And what exactly would you have told him?” 

“That you’re already spoken for.”

Your grip on the cue stick tightened. “Spoken for? That’s one way to put it.”

He nodded, looking way too pleased with himself. “Now I’m beginning to think it would’ve saved us all a lot of trouble.”

You rolled your eyes, returning your attention to your shot. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are. With me. Playing pool. After hours.”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at his words and finally took the shot. The ball sank into the pocket, and you straightened, feigning confidence. “And?” 

Seungcheol chuckled, moving to take his turn. “Oh, baby.” He leaned over the table, eyes locking onto yours just before he took his shot. “You’re terrible at hiding your emotions from your face.”

“I’m not,” you rolled your eyes, again.

“You have a tell,” he said smugly. “You always have.”

You hated that he was right. 

And you really hated that you were probably about to lose this game. And not because of a lack of skill, but because Seungcheol was too distracting for you. 

The way his sleek black T-shirt clung to his body, the posture he adopted as he leaned on his cue, the way his dark jeans hugged his ass. Not only that, but his fucking attitude was driving you crazy. 

“So what?” You placed a hand on the table before leaning over. “It’s not like we’re playing poker.” 

“If you’re keeping us a secret, you might want to work on that poker face,” he mused, tone smug. It was then when you should’ve realized his game. 

You scoffed. “I’m not hiding anything, Seungcheol,” you said, not fully thinking through how that might sound. Your tone resounded across the table, high and swollen in condescension. 

Seungcheol’s smirk deepened, just as you took your shot, only to miss horribly. “Not just bad at hiding your emotions, but bad at pool too.” 

He didn’t even give you time to recover. Seungcheol stepped up, leaning over the table to take the final shot, sinking the last ball into the bag. Game over. 

Seungcheol straightened, casually planting the cue stick in front of him, both hands gripping the top as he leaned on it slightly. You tossed the cue stick on the table while he just cocked his head to one side, then he smirked. 

“Prick,” you gritted, trying not to smile as his smirk widened on his perfect face. You crossed your arms over your chest, going around the table to meet up with him. “You know I wouldn’t hide our relationship.”

Seungcheol turned around, putting the cue stick away back on the rack. “What made you hesitate, then?” 

You gaped at him, having nothing to say. You thought about what you told Wonwoo. About feeling ashamed, where did that shame extend to? Did it go so far as to make you feel unworthy of Seungcheol’s forgiveness? 

“Mmn?” he hummed, taking one slow step towards you, effectively eliminating the space between you. 

“Cheol,” you breathed, bringing a hand on his chest to stop him from pinning your body back against the table behind you. 

“What’s happening, baby?” he cooed softly. 

You blinked. He wasn’t smirking anymore—just watching you carefully, waiting. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I didn’t think telling Chan about us would matter. So I didn’t do it.” 

Seungcheol’s lips twitched into something small and satisfied as he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, helping you sit on the rim of the pool table. You were now face to face with him, his eyes scanning the features of your face. 

“I think you enjoy it,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy. 

“Enjoy what?” you asked meekly, feeling small as his body practically still towered over yours. 

Seungcheol dipped his head to meet your lips, except that he didn’t kiss you right away. “Seeing me get jealous,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours in the process. 

“Yeah. A little,” you replied in the same manner, a light smirk spreading across your lips. 

“You know, that’s a dangerous thing to admit.”

Your smirk deepened. “Why? Gonna punish me for it?”

He smiled, finally pressing his lips against your own. The kiss was quiet, quick, but you could feel the immediate need for more. You hummed into the kiss, slipping a hand on his nape to pull him closer—to feel the warmth radiating from him, the mixture of his jealousy and the playfulness of it all. 

The world outside was quiet. And something about this moment felt different, but also so familiar. It was as though you both were young again—sharing rushed kisses in the quiet of the library, or making out in secret places. 

But the difference was that you didn’t have the need to hide anymore, at least not entirely. Despite you and him being back together fully, there was no fear of you getting caught or not. 

Seungcheol pulled back, but just slightly. His breath fanned gently over your lips as he smiled. “You didn’t tell Chan we’re together because you knew it would make me jealous?” he asked, the tone sounded genuine, but tiny. 

You made a motion to shake your head. “I don’t know,” you replied, your tone low, almost like a breath. “I just didn’t.” 

“Mmn,” he nodded, pressing his lips to yours. Then with a triumphant air, he whispered. “I win.”

You had forgotten that you were playing pool—that you were playing a game at all. You succumbed to the delicious taste of his kisses, pressing his lips to yours lightly at first. Then his full lips slowly locked with yours, creating a wet smacking sound as he pulled back. 

“You might’ve won, but I—” you touched the tip of his nose with your fingertip. “—never lose,” you cooed, smiling sweetly at him.

Seungcheol pulled back, biting his lip as he looked at you like he wanted to say some quippy retort. But instead, he switched his hands from your waist to your thighs, pushing them apart and grabbing them so he could scoot you closer to the edge of the pool table.

“You know what?” he sighed with a smile, an eyebrow quirking up. “Maybe you do need a little punishment.”

You smiled, humming in delight. Seungcheol slipped his fingers beneath your chin, holding you gently before giving you a featherlight kiss. “But I really want to fuck you right now.”

Your skin came alight with excitement, making you shudder slightly. A sigh slipped past your lips involuntarily. “What’s stopping you?” you whispered, almost afraid you would break the quiet ambience of the bar—the low humming of the fridges, the buzzing of the neon lights that you’d said you would turn off, but forgot.

His hand left your chin, moving to thread your hair through his fingers. “You tell me, angel,” he replied in kind, an amused grin on his face, he enjoyed toying with you.

He softly pulled on your hair, leaning your head back as his lips trailed down your jawline. Your mouth parted, silently moaning as his lips touched the spot below your earlobe. “Cheol,” you muttered.

“Mmn?” he hummed at the sound of his name leaving your lips. “Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his low and raspy tone pouring into your ears.

You wanted to answer, but words just ceased to exist. All you wanted—all you needed—was his hands on you. And Seungcheol knew it all too well.

His hands travelled from your parted thighs to your butt, squeezing lightly as he sighed through his nose. As he did this, his lips kept trailing down your neck with light kisses, each one more delicious than the last. You felt his smile as he reached the dip of your clavicle, knowing that it would elicit a louder moan from you.

“Here?” you squeaked. You grabbed onto his shirt, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he started to push you back onto the table.

“Yes, here,” he answered, the upper half of his body hovering over you as you lay back on the table. Seungcheol smiled, “Unless you want to wait until we get home.”

“Uuuh,” you closed your eyes. Seungcheol slipped a hand beneath your white tank-top, his touch warm and confident as he hiked the fabric up your tummy. His fingers grazed the line of your bra, making you swallow hard.

“Maybe I should make you wait,” he whispered, close to your lips so you felt his breath on you. “That’s the punishment you deserve.”

“No, please,” you whined, linking your arms around his shoulders. Pulling him closer, he crashed his lips with your own, kissing you harder, fervently. Seungcheol chuckled into the kiss, sending a shiver that nearly vibrated in your bones.

“I need to hear it, baby,” he murmured, creating smacking noises with each ardent kiss he propped on your lips.

His hand moved from the center of your belly to the underside of your torso, and slid under your back to command it to arch for him. You deepened the kiss, outlining his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue before pulling back. “Take me here,” you whispered sultrily, a rush of adrenaline going through you.

Seungcheol paused for a brief moment, making you think that he would follow his plan of punishing you, to make you wait. But he pulled back, a sweet grin painting his beautiful face as he looked at you. Then it hit you—all of the moments shared in the past with him, moments like this, moments that felt like breaking the rules, crossing the line.

But you felt safe, all the times he touched you, or kissed you, you felt like it just made sense.

“Are you ready?” he asked playfully, the corner of his lip curving up slightly when all you could muster was a nod. After getting your silent permission, his hand inched upwards on your back, unclasping your bra with efficiency.

The next moments happened hurriedly. Seungcheol started discarding the pieces of your clothing one by one, kissing your lips like a hungry man, barely stopping for air. You mumbled out some incoherencies about wanting him right then and there, but you were too caught up to actually make sense of your own words.

Seungcheol giggled into your lips, the sound only making your blood dance beneath your skin. He was getting rid of your bra, after he had gotten your tank-top out of the way. The bite of the cool surface beneath you made your skin prickle.

But he just sighed at the sight of you, dipping his head to kiss your collarbones again. His wet lips made a trail of light kisses, from the nook of your collarbones down your chest. He kissed your breasts gently, getting soft moans out of you as each kiss felt even sweeter.

You grabbed his blond hair with one hand, keeping your other hand flatly on his lean back. “Cheol,” you sighed.

Your eyes fell out of focus. The sight directly in front of you was stark compared to the stars and colors you saw every time you closed your eyes. Hanging from the ceiling was a lamp, forming a warm yellow pool around you. It hurt to stare at, but Seungcheol was a far better sight.

He pulled back, standing up right. A sigh escaped him as he started taking your sneakers off without looking away from you. You were half naked, torso bare, your hair forming a halo around your head.

Your sneakers fell on the floor, one after the other and you got ready to push your hips up for him just as his hands approached the waistband of your jeans. “Hurry up,” you mumbled, a playful giggle bubbling in your mouth.

Seungcheol clicked his tongue, slapping a hand down your hip before continuing to undo the button and zipper of your jeans. “Patience, baby.”

Then painfully slow, he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your jeans, grabbing your panties too and then started pulling them both down. You planted your feet on the edge of the table just to push your hips up for him to slide down your jeans and panties altogether, letting them drop to the white and black checkered floor.

You sat up on the table, going to grab for the black t-shirt he wore to tear it off him. But Seungcheol caught both of your hands linking his fingers with yours to keep you from undressing him.

You whined pathetically, to which Seungcheol only replied with a joyful giggle. He closed the gap between his lips and yours, kissing you swiftly.

“Behave.” He said, the word coming out of him raspy. “Behave or this ends now.”

A whiny exhale escaped your lips—a complaint that you couldn’t form properly in time. You knew that Seungcheol was a man that loved doting on you, but you also knew that he could keep his word, specially if it meant to punish you.

He loved it—seeing you all whiny, pouty, and pathetic for him. He loved knowing everything that made you subdue to him, every caress, every kiss, and where to place them.

Without any other word, Seungcheol sank down to his knees, his hands leaving yours to grope around the inside of your thighs, pushing them gently. You leaned back on your hands, parting your legs for him.

Your heart palpitated frantically at the sight of him, his hands keeping your thighs spread for him to bury his face between them. He started slowly, making his way with gentle kisses that he littered all over your inner thighs.

“Easy,” he reminded you, a twinge of playfulness in his eyes as he blinked up to your face. His eyebrow twitched up slightly before he dipped his head to run his tongue on your skin.

The feeling of his tongue so close to your pussy sent you in a frenzy, quickly making you forget where you were. You moaned loudly—lewdly, gearing up for the sweet pleasure that would ensue.

You heard a soft gasp—a smile that painted his lips, right before he licked a fat stripe between your folds. The moment you felt his tongue slide on your wet pussy, you instantly dissolved into pleasure. He started teasing you, licking you up and down, drinking you in, lapping at your wetness eagerly.

Slipping a hand on the back of his head, you tangled your fingers around the soft strands of his blond hair. His tongue reached the top of your mound, stopping before trapping your clit between his soft lips. You moaned louder, indicating to him to continue, but soon the bar filled with the sound of your moans.

Seungcheol sucked lightly at your clit, pressing his tongue on the swollen bud before he started moving it from side to side, very softly, gently, as though he were fearful he might overstim you quickly. But it only made your pleasure higher, making the rest of your body go numb, leaving your mind blank.

You nearly froze in place—sitting down at the edge of the pool table, one hand steading you, the other holding his hair. You tried to hold the angle of your hips for him, for his mouth pleasuring your pussy. His tongue kept the side to side motion on your clit, only picking up the pace but slowly, taking his time with you.

Your moans were soft, airy, and he responded in low hums as though telling you how much he loved your taste, the way you sounded. You imagined then how the scene would look from afar—Seungcheol on his knees, pleasuring you as you sat wholly naked on the pool table of his bar.

“Fuck,” you gritted, closing your eyes as you tilted your head back in utter, sweet pleasure. “Cheol, don’t stop. Please, daddy,” you mewled, not caring how pathetic you sounded—because you were close.

And he knew, he knew that you were toying on the line of your release. But he didn’t switch the pace of his tongue, he didn’t stop sucking lightly at your clit. He only kept going, and going, and going.

It was the steadiness of his tongue on you that finally pushed you to the edge. Your orgasm was sweet, like gentle waves washing over you. And your moans were just as sweet, crying out his name as you came apart on the table, taking deep breaths as your climax reached higher, and you couldn’t breathe anymore.

You relished the waves of pleasure consuming you, the way they gently subsided, leaving your body languid. You thread back his blond hair with your fingers, just as he gave your pussy a couple of kisses, giggling playfully as you twitched at the feeling.

The next moments happened in silence, fluidly. Seungcheol slipped a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back to plant a kiss on your lips. You parted your mouth for him, just as he deepened the kiss, moving on your lips expertly. He hummed as your fingers searched at his belt blindly, unfastening with one swift move.

Just as you were undoing his pants, Seungcheol broke the kiss, crossing his arms down his belly to grab at the hem of his t-shirt, taking it off in one motion. He kissed you again, as if he would die if one more second passed without his lips on yours.

His breath hitched audibly when your hand reached beneath his boxers, your fingers circling around his girthy cock. You shuddered in anticipation when you felt how hard he was for you, humming into his lips as your hand rolled over the tip of his cock, feeling the wetness of the precum gathering in his slit.

“Hurry,” he echoed, making you giggle lightly.

 You pushed his boxers down, getting his cock out. Seungcheol leaned forward, his forehead bumping with yours lightly as you started rolling your hand on his hard cock. He swallowed hard, grunting a little as you scooted closer to him, guiding him to your pussy.

“Baby,” he whispered, a twinge of desperation echoing in his voice.

You whimpered slightly at the feeling of his cockhead nudging in your entrance as you pushed him with your fingers, every inch stretching your walls deliciously. “Seungcheol,” you mewled.

He placed his hands on your ass, holding you in place as he sank inside your walls, exhaling deeply. “I love you,” he mumbled. It sounded as though he’d been dying to tell you those words, as though he’d been dying to feel your warmth.

“I love you,” you replied, your tone merely above a whisper. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of having him inside you, stuffing you full. 

His hand found your cheek, the pad of his thumb slipping beneath your jawline to steal a kiss from your lips. Seungcheol started moving his hips with shallow thrusts, as though he wanted to pair his thrusts with the slow movement of his lips on yours.

But then it soon changed—with a raspy groan, the pacing of his hips took a greedy speed. His hand left your cheek, quickly returning to your ass, where he held you as his hips started snapping against you faster.

You gasped, a hand found his shoulder while the other was flatly planted behind you on the table. You parted your legs more for him, leaning back slightly so he could take all of you—take whatever he wanted. You loved seeing him like this—the carnal desire overpowering him, making him nearly feral.

His jaw was tightly clasped, his eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head back slightly. “Fuck,” he gritted.

You knew something had shifted in the air. What was once flooded with just your moans alone was now accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin, low quiet groans from Seungcheol, and the squelching sounds of your dripping pussy.

The calculated rutting of his hips quickly took over you, and for a moment, you wanted to get lost in him. Seungcheol was utterly glorious, covered in a sheen layer of sweat from his forehead to his collarbones, a lazy smile spreading on his lips as he noticed the glazed look in your eyes.

You slowly lay back on the table, until your back was pressed on the cold surface. Seungcheol quickly grabbed your thighs, hooking them over his shoulders without slowing down the careless rutting of his hips.

The feeling became addictive, Seungcheol knew exactly what to do to bring you closer to the edge. He placed his hands on the table, at the height of your waist, pressing your thighs to your chest as he bent over. The rutting of his hips became deeper, making you feel the length of his cock, the tip hitting one spot that made you crazy. Quickly your moans became airy, until they were mere gasps.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “I need you to come, baby,” he urged with a low tone.

“I’m there,” you sighed. “Fuck, daddy. Please come with me,” you said with an embarrassingly honeyed tone.

Seungcheol gritted his teeth, a low grunt coming from him that told you just how close he was too. “Want me to cum inside you, baby?” he asked with fitful breaths.

You let out a whiny sound through your lips. “Yes, yes, please,” you gasped, succumbing to another sweet wave of pleasure. And then, before you could even think your words through— “Put a baby in me, Cheol.”

He gasped, his gaze snapping to your face. “You want that?” he asked breathlessly, his hips buckling against you. “Want me to make you a mommy?” 

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so sweet that you could barely talk. You nodded, blinking the tears away from your eyes to see his face.

His mouth parted, a silent moan escaping before the thrusts of his hips went languid. “God, angel,” he groaned helplessly. “I'm cumming,” he whispered, right before the features of his face relaxed, his eyelids fluttered shut, a vein on his forehead popping out as he came with you.  

Seungcheol groaned loudly, and you could tell by the depth of his thrust that he was cumming a lot inside you, filling you up. The thought drove you crazy, it nearly made you ask him to go again—to stop only when you were indeed pregnant. A shudder invaded you, making you whimper slightly.

He gave you a couple of sloppy thrusts, easing your legs gently from his shoulders to let you rest. You were both breathing hard, your ears buzzing as you tried to steady yourself. But the realization of what you said started sinking in. Seungcheol sighed, an eyebrow twitching up as he gave you an inquisitive look.

“What?” you whispered innocently, biting your bottom lip to avoid smiling.

“You’re cruel,” he pouted, standing up right so he could pull out of you, placing a hand on your belly as he pulled his hips from yours.

You shuddered at the loss. “Why?” you blinked up at him.

“Because—,” he giggled meekly, avoiding your eyes. “—you know what saying that does to me.”

You responded with a giggle of your own. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, sitting up on the table as he handed you your panties. 

But then—a loud, metallic snap. The shutting of the back door resounded from the back to where you and Seungcheol were. You winced in alarm, a hand quickly going to grab your tank-top.

Seungcheol quickly backed away, his hands steading you before you could make another move. “Stay there,” he cautioned, tucking himself back in his pants. His demeanor was so final that you had no choice but to ground yourself there.

He hurried to the hall that led to the back door, not bothering to put his t-shirt on. You sat on the edge of the table, with nothing to hear but the loud drumming of your heart. But he came back just as quickly, hand ruffling his hair, and a confused look on his face.

“It was Chan. Apparently he forgot his keys,” Seungcheol explained, walking up to where you sat still.

“Oh,” you uttered, frowning in confusion. “Did he…”

“Hear us? See us?” Seungcheol sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “Probably,” he cocked his head to one side then the other. “Most definitely.”

Your gaze fell out of focus. “How long had he been here?” You asked dumbly, but then, realization hit. You narrowed your eyes at him. “You knew he was here.”

Seungcheol’s gaze met yours. “I didn’t know for sure,” he shrugged, hands still parked on his hips. “I heard noises. Only a few of us have the key to get in and I know Wonwoo closed the door on his way out.”

Your mouth fell open. “So he never left?”

He nodded, blinking slowly. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he said, placing himself between your legs again, hands finding the border of the table.

You gave him an incredulous look. “You wanted him to watch,” you said, wanting to muster up the slightest bit of annoyance at him. But his grin made it difficult for you to make any more accusatory remarks at him.

“I didn’t expect him to stay for so long,” he said, starting to chuckle at your expression in utter disbelief. “I thought he would just walk out but eventually I forgot,” he said, his eyes turning into half moons as he continued laughing.

You pushed one of his shoulders. “You forgot?!” you exclaimed, aghast.

“Baby, I don’t think you know,” he said, his tone rising as though he had discovered something.

You rolled your eyes. “Know what, exactly?”

He inched closer to you, taking advantage of your perplexion to grab your face with his hands. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he muttered, his tone gruff and low. “You don’t know how good you sound, how good you feel,” he sighed, his eyes coasting over the features of your face. “All I could focus on was you.”

“So you’re telling me that you just forgot that Chan was just down the hall?” you asked in utter confusion.

“Eh—,” he laughed airily, “kinda?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Choi Seungcheol,” you accused.

Seungcheol smiled at you giddily, bringing a hand to the back of your head to prop a light kiss on your lips. He let out a light sigh, giving you another small kiss. “Let’s go home.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of those words, a swarm of butterflies dancing crazily inside your stomach. “Okay,” you whispered.

Instead of moving, Seungcheol stayed there, with his forehead pressed against yours. “You owe me a date,” he muttered.

“I do,” you replied in kind, pressing your lips slowly against his.

“How about tomorrow morning?” he asked, laughing lightly at his own urgency.

“You got it, boss,” you said, pulling back to see that smile painting his face. 

And for a moment, it was as though you had never left. Or at least that was how that fleeting moment felt.

The next day, morning light filtered through the curtains, painting soft, pale lines across the floor. The faint scent of Seungcheol’s deodorant lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of your shared bedroom. He had just finished showering after a workout at the gym downstairs, just as he always did every morning.

You were getting ready for your date—a quiet breakfast at a place of his choosing. He’d assured you that you’d like it. There was still some time before you had to leave, so you busied yourself with organizing your stuff—the small collection of your belongings you had brought into his apartment.

Right now, you were meant to be figuring out where to put your socks. You’d forgotten about them, still tucked away in your suitcase. After a moment of procrastination, you picked one of the drawers and started placing them inside, separated from Seungcheol’s.

“Baby,” he called from down the hallway. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“Mm, yeah. Okay,” you agreed shortly.

It was impossible to ignore the looming feeling that it was odd to be living with Seungcheol. After so many times of wishing to go back to him, you were finally cementing something together.

You opened the first drawer, making space to transfer the clothes from your assigned drawer, carefully arranging his in the process. 

That was until your knuckles brushed against—a velvet, square box buried beneath a apile of socks and underwear. At first, you thought to move it aside, to tuck it into a more secure corner of the drawer. But as your fingers curled around the soft fabric, you didn’t really think about what you were holding. Instinctively, you lifted the box, intending to open it. 

Then, realization hit. 

A sharp breath lodged into your throat, and your hand snapped away from the lid, flying instead to your mouth to stifle an abrupt, overwhelming rush of emotion. A cold shudder ran through your body, weakening your knees, forcing you to stumble back and drop on the edge of the bed. 

“Baby?” Seungcheol’s voice drifted down the hall. “What’s wro–,”

But he stopped. Standing in the doorway, his eyes locked onto the small box in your hand. His expression didn’t shift, but the air in the bedroom grew thick and impossibly heavy. 

Without a word, he took three steps forward, sinking to his knees in front of you. 

“What’s this?” you asked, swallowing your fear, forcing yourself to meet his face.

Seungcheol didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes flickered between your face and the box, reading every emotion weighing down across your features. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper. 

“Did you open it?” 

You shook your head. But the weight of the moment pressed down on you, crushing, suffocating. His reaction alone told you everything you needed to know. You knew this box. It resembled the ones he had given you before on anniversary dates or on your birthday. This one was slightly different. The ones before were small, elegant, wrapped in significance. This one was more deliberate. More final. 

“Baby, look at me,” he murmured. A warm hand cupped your face, and you choked on a sob at both the tenderness of his touch and the slow, painful realization of what lay inside that box. 

For the first time, Seungcheol seemed at a loss for words. You could see the war harboring inside him, the regret, the hesitation, the fear. But his first instinct wasn’t to come up with explanations. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, his hands cupping your face again to ground you, steadying you. 

You sucked in a shaky breath. “Seungcheol, what’s inside it?” 

Seungcheol’s expression softened, his head tilting to one side when he saw your eyes begin to brim with big tears. “I need you to know something first,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “When I bought this… I never imagined we wouldn’t be together.”

His fingers curled around the box, as though he could somehow protect you both from the truth inside it. As though he wanted to protect you from the pain he went through. 

“What is inside it?” you pressed again, unable to bring your voice any higher. 

He exhaled sharply, resigned. He locked his gaze to yours, and you slowly got to see how in your eyes he found strength, his breath steadying. His lips parted, but he didn’t need to speak. The answer was already hanging in the air between you. 

“Is it a ring?” Your body trembled as a sob tore through you, pain uncoiling in your chest, sharp and almost unbearable. “Please, Seungcheol, if it’s a ring—,”

“Yes,” he replied with a gentle tone, but you could feel the weight of the grief that he tried to keep away. “It’s a ring,” he admitted, watching you, reading every flinch, every breath. He took in all the pain that you showed. “It was meant to be yours.”

Your throat tightened painfully. “When?” the question left your lips before you could stop it, as though knowing the exact moment would somehow soften the burden. 

Seungcheol let out a tiny, soft breath through his nose, as though composing himself too before facing the shock that his next words would bring you: “For your twenty fourth birthday.”

Your face twisted as you brought a hand to cover your mouth again, a painful sob tearing through you, ripping through the quiet grief looming in the room. Just days before your twenty-fourth birthday, you had left him. That night, you spent your birthday in a different country, alone.  

“Baby, please, listen to me,” he muttered in a raw voice. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he reached to grab your hands. “Everything happened the way it did for a reason. It took me a long time to accept that.”

You could barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. The ache in your chest spread through your entire body, making your head pulse. Tears burned as they slipped down your cheeks. 

“But we’re here now,” he continued, his voice steadying even as his hand left yours and found your cheek again. “And we’re moving on. I wish things had been different for us, but we weren’t ready.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked in a tiny tone. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, you knew that if you did, the expression on his face would only shatter you completely. 

His breath hitched as he suppressed a sob. “Because I couldn’t let that be the reason you stayed. I couldn’t do that to you,” his tone was shaky, and by the sound of it you knew that he was crying.

His words landed like a punch to the gut. You turned to him then, and the sight nearly broke you. His dark eyes were glassy, fearful. But even through his own pain, his first instinct was to comfort you—to hold you together. That was Seungcheol. Always looking out for everybody else before tending to his own wounds. 

“All the time we lost….” You whispered, your throat tightening. “I could’ve stayed. We could’ve—,”

The words caught, breaking apart before you could even finish. Your mind spun, flashing through every possibility. Every what if. If he had proposed, you would’ve said yes. No hesitation. No doubt. Right now, you would be married. Living a different life. No sleepless nights. No endless aching. No running away, no trying—and failing—to forget him. 

His fingers curled around yours and the velvet box, gripping it like it was the last piece of a life you had both left behind. 

“But we weren’t ready,” he said, his voice was quiet, but firm, steady even as his own emotions still warred inside him. “I didn’t want to keep you here. I wanted you to keep going. To chase your dreams.”

“And what about what I wanted?” Your voice cracked as the question left you. Your mind was fogged under the pain you were carrying for years. It reverted you back to all of the times you said this to him, but now—now it felt like the first time you truly wanted an answer from him. 

His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a hard line. He was hurting, too. You could see it in the way he kept his breathing controlled, but deep, like that would dissolve the pain you were also feeling inside your chest. 

“Baby,” he whispered, the word soft in his lips, pleading. “We can’t keep letting this be a problem.” 

He was right. You knew he was right. But you were stubborn.

“I can’t be here right now–,” you mumbled, wiping your tears with the back of your hand quite harshly. You pushed yourself up from the bed, making him stand abruptly too, his eyes widening. You knew that look. “I need to think. I need some fresh air.”

His stomach twisted painfully when you motioned to the door. “Wait–,”

“I’ll be back, I just...” Your lip quivered, and your tone thickened as the tears kept coming: “This is too much for me. I just need to be alone for a moment.”

Seungcheol stood rigid, watching as you hurried out. The sound of the front door snapping shut sent a shudder through him. And then—everything came flooding back. The feeling that had wrecked him when you left years ago. The pain. The abandonment. The heartbreak. He had sworn he would never feel that again. 

But there he was. Breathing hard because the pain made him incapable of doing anything else.

You walked out. You left again.

“Wait,” he muttered, his instincts taking over. In a second, he was making his way towards the front door, and then the elevator, pulse hammering in his ears as he hit the button once, then twice— 

“Come on,” he gritted through his teeth. “Come on!” His palm slammed against the button until the doors finally parted to him. 

The moment he stepped outside of the building, his world spun wildly. The air felt think, suffocating. His heart stuttering like crazy, he felt dizzy. 

Where did you go?

His hand snapped to his pockets, no phone. His stomach dropping when he realized that you hadn’t taken yours either. “Fuck. Fuck!” the words escaped him in a frantic breath as he shoved his hands through his hair. Think, Seungcheol. Calm down.

You could’ve gone to the park, he reasoned. Without another thought, he hurried off, crossing the street without a care. His feet pounded against the pavement as he sprinted in direction to the park, cutting through the people strolling down the sidewalk. His chest burned, his mind raced. 

Frantically, he scanned the park, weaving through the crowd, searching through the sea of faces. 

And then, his heart clenched. A weight lifted from his heart so abruptly it almost made his mind spin again. 

There you were. 

Sitting on a swing, head leaned to the side, staring at the ground. Your fingers brushed under your eyes, wiping away your tears swiftly. The slight sway of the swing, the way your shoulders curled inward—it was all so painfully familiar. 

For years, Seungcheol had believed that he had taken the hardest blow. He was the one who stayed. He had to rebuild on the ashes of what he had lost when you left him. While you—you walked away. He had convinced himself that you had suffered less. 

But now, he saw it. 

The weight of your dreams slipping through your fingers. You raised your gaze when a small child ran across the sandbox, releasing a cry of joy as his mom chased after him. You let your gaze fall to your lap again. 

Guilt churned inside him. 

Slowly, Seungcheol approached, each step forcing him to steady his heart. When your eyes finally found him, they softened at the sight of him as he finished approaching you and sat on the swing next to yours.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol muttered, swallowing a lump of anxiety in his throat. “I know you said you just needed air but... I had to make sure.”

You nodded, sniffing. “I get it,” you whispered shakily. “That’s okay, I was heading back anyways.” You shrugged, it was a small gesture. A tell.

And Seungcheol caught that. “Do you need more time?” he asked, releasing a sigh, as if the weight of all his past fears had made a fool of him again. “I can go back inside. I’ll be waiting for you there.”

“Okay,” you murmured, rubbing the back of your hand to wipe your tears, still looking at your shoes. “I’ll be there in a moment.” 

“Okay,” he echoed softly, slowly rising from the swing. But just as his fingers slipped from the cold metal chain, yours caught his hand—your soft smaller fingers curling around his, stopping him in his tracks. 

He turned back, encountering the sight of your teary eyes again. His gut twisted. 

“Wait,” you whispered. “Stay. Please?” Your gaze dropped for a moment. “I’m sorry. I panicked,” you released a shaky breath, searching for words. “Can we… talk about this?” 

The knot in his throat loosened, relief rushing through him. “Of course.”

You were still sitting on the swing, so he knelt in the sand before you, leveling himself with your gaze. His heart clenched at the sight of you—rosy cheeks, swollen lips, dark lashes clumped together from the tears you have shed. 

Seungcheol didn’t know where to start. This was a mess, and deep down, he had known something like this would happen the moment you walked back into his life. 

“Seungcheol,” you finally started, your voice quiet, but fragile, “why didn’t you tell me you had a ring?” 

The question was one that you had asked before. But it still made his chest tighten. 

“When I broke up with you, you could’ve told me,” you took in a big breath, trying to steady yourself.

Your hand was still gripping his, so he simply shifted, threading his fingers with yours. “I didn’t want to hold you back,” he admitted. “If I had told you I had was planning to propose, you would’ve stayed. And your plans, your dreams… I wanted you to have the chance to fulfill them.”

Your face crumpled. Eyebrows knitted, lower lip trembling. “I was miserable, Seungcheol,” you whispered, your eyes brimming with sorrowful tears. “I had to give you up to go after those dreams. But what I wanted—what I really wanted—was to start a life with you. I wanted kids, I wanted… everything.” 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, lowering his gaze, feeling ashamed. “I wasn’t ready. You were right about that. I let myself get caught up in dumb things—I thought I wouldn’t be enough for you. That I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.” 

Seungcheol used to think that his mistakes were what led him to losing you. Slowly those mistakes turned into regrets. But when he looked at you now, he didn’t see mistakes. 

He saw the love of his life. The girl who had stolen his heart upon first sight. The one who made him feel alive, who made him feel like he was himself again. 

Reaching into the pocket of his sweats, he pulled out the small velvet box. His fingers trembled as he placed it in your hands again, wrapping your fingers around it. 

“You have always been the one I wanted,” he whispered, voice shaking, tears slipping freely now. “From the moment we met, I knew it was you. It’s always been you.”

You curled your fingers around the small box he placed in your hands, you looked at it for a second before lifting your gaze to meet his. 

He held on tighter, his eyes wide—fear flickering in them. “This is how sure I am,” he whispered. But if you decided to open that box right now, he wouldn’t hesitate. He was ready now.  

You raised the box in your hand, outlining the sides of the lid with the tip of your trembling fingers. The knot in your stomach tightened. “Not like this,” you whispered, lowering the box to your lap. “I don’t want you to propose to me like this,” you could barely bring yourself to mutter those words. 

The summer night breeze brushed the nape of your neck, cool against your heated skin. A slight shiver ran through you. And Seungcheol noticed. He always noticed. He looked at you longingly, as though seeing you in the back of his head too, a distant memory reverting him back to those uni days. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet somehow, his love for you hadn’t faded. 

Slowly, you reached out, cupping his cheek. Your cold thumb brushed away the tear that had slipped down his face. His breath hitched slightly at your touch, but he welcomed it. 

“I love you, Seungcheol,” you said, your voice barely holding back emotion. “But I want us to do it right. We still need to rebuild some things in our relationship before we take the next steps. Maybe… maybe we should wait a little.”

Seungcheol caught your wrist, pressing a long kiss to the center of your palm. “I want that too, baby.” He murmured, pressing another kiss there. “I want us to be stronger than we were before. Let’s wait, then.” 

“But only a little,” you added with a sweet, tearful giggle.  

His chest swelled at the sound. “You’re the boss,” he smiled, and it was that smile, soft at the corners, making his dark eyes gleam. It reminded you of every reason you had ever loved him. 

“Come on,” he said, standing up and slipping the box back into his pocket. “Let’s go home.” 

Home. 

For so long after you left him, that word had lost its meaning. You thought that you’d never get that feeling again with anyone else—the safety, the familiarity. There is no one you trusted more than him.

But you did now, you felt it again. 

You took his outstretched hand, rising to your feet too. Walking side by side through the park with him toward the apartment where you were building something new with him. Something stronger. 

You were home again. 

✧ author's note: life is funny because i started this draft on nov 9 2023 and so much has happened ever since. i thought i'd never understand what going through a painful breakup would feel like. but now i do. and i also know what moving on feels like. funny, huh?

this chapter was shorter than i initially planned though, i hope you guys enjoyed it (?) haha idk, it was really heavy on the angst and i let this draft sit for months and months i feel guilty about that

also, an addendum: in the previous chapter, jeonghan makes a reference to the fic city lights chapter 9 and lights out chapter 1 for those that may not know. for those who do know, i kind of skipped the timeline by a looooong mile haha. but idc, i just wanted the angst and to torture hannie w some heartache

anyway,

✧ STAY TUNED FOR PART SIX !! ✧

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME A COFFEE? (●'◡'●)

© TO HANNIEWEEN — I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[dollbrbie]

♡ ⸝⸝ NEVER GETTING RID OF HIM

cw. ex!kaiser & bratz!reader , mentions of alcohol use , make up sex , rough sex , possessiveness

kaiser (do not reply) :

who’s that guy ur talking to??

1:02 am

kaiser (do not reply) :

don’t play w me yk i’ll come over and kick his ass

1:03 am

you roll your eyes at the texts that light up your phone screen. how unbelievably childish. kaiser has always been the type of guy that seems to believe you’re still his when you’re most definitely not. besides, you had been broken up for two months now, it was about time for the both of you to start moving on.

that’s why you found yourself talking to some guy at the club, drunk out of your mind, the one kaiser was conveniently also at. you wouldn’t even put it past him if he came only because he found out you were. he was a little crazy like that.

“yeah, but anyways as i was saying..”, you say, putting your phone on silent and back in your bag, smiling back up at the stranger.

you suddenly feel an arm snake around your waist, the hold way too familiar, “hey, baby.”, your ex boyfriend smiles, a hint of irritation in his eyes.

you scoff with an eye roll, “what do you want?”

“just wondering why this guy is talking to my girl is all.”, he shrugs nonchalantly, like he was really still your man.

“i’m not your fucking girl, kaiser.”

“uhh.. yeah i think i’ll head off.”, the guy you had previously been talking to says awkwardly, pulling a straight smile before wandering off into the crowd.

“what the fuck do you think you’re doing? i was talking to him! you can’t just show up whenever you feel like.”, you yell against the loud music echoing through your ears.

“y’still my girl whether you like it or not. you think i’m gonna let these loser guys think they have a chance with you?”

“i’m not your girl for fuck sake!”, you yell in frustration, “we broke up, don’t you get it? we’re done.”

you sigh in pure frustration before attempting to storm off, kaiser’s hand quick to grab your wrist to prevent that, “alright, hold on, please. just hear me out.”

you turn around, looking at his defeated face, causing your heart to thump, “why should i, though? it’s not like you deserve it.”

“i know, baby. i know.”, he admits, pulling you closer, “but can’t we just talk?”, he adds, “cmon?”

“fine. where?”

“oh- fuck.”, you whimper out as you feel kaiser bottom out inside you, “baby, please.”

“yeah? what is it, beautiful? use your words.”

you knew this would happen. it always does whenever you and kaiser go to ‘talk things out’. you always end up underneath him, fucking you like he’s never fucked you before. i guess that was one good thing about this.

“too much-”

“nah.. you can take it baby, cmon.”, he coaxes, seeing the way your body squirmed, knowing you were close to reaching your peak.

kaiser knew you and your body too well. the way your legs would squirm and your back would arch when that knot of pleasure would build up in your stomach. the way your nails would claw his back and your legs refused to stay still when it was getting too much.

he knew you like the back of his hand and he knew exactly how to tip you over the edge.

and just like his predictions, you arch your back as you mewl out, “m’gonna cum..”

“already, baby?”, he asks through a breathy laugh to which you nod frantically, your legs wrapping around kaiser’s waist, your pleasure so close to tipping over.

“go on then, cum for me, pretty.”, he coaxes once more, your orgasm spilling over the edge and shooting down your body, your head thrown back against the pillow as your eyes screw shut and your legs tighten around your ex’s waist.

kaiser continues fucking you through your orgasm, your beautiful whines sending him over the edge as he overstimulates your pretty pussy, “what? y’think i’m done? i’ve not even come yet.”, he adds, “and we have a lot of making up to do, don’t we?”

he kisses away your tears of pleasure, smiling to himself as he has you exactly where he wants you. he let you have your time believing you were standing on business. but you had always been his and he certainly won’t be letting you escape from his grasp again.

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[lila-lou]

✨The smarter choice - 8/8✨

Summary: The pull was undeniable—every glance, every touch, a spark. Dean was everything you shouldn’t want, yet resistance was futile.

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 9482

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The door creaked open, and there you were, standing in the doorway in tiny shorts that left little to the imagination and a snug little top that clung to your figure. True to form, you weren’t wearing a bra, and the sight of you standing there, looking so effortlessly gorgeous, sent a bolt of heat through Dean’s already frayed nerves.

You crossed your arms over your chest, an unintentional motion that only emphasized the curves beneath your snug top. Dean’s resolve to keep his eyes on your face faltered, and for a brief moment, his gaze dropped before snapping back up. But the damage was done. His cheeks flushed faintly, and the confident words he’d rehearsed in the Impala dissolved like smoke.

His mouth opened, then closed, his usual charm and swagger completely failing him. For a man who faced monsters without flinching, standing in front of you, looking as effortlessly stunning as you did, left him utterly speechless.

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes despite the uncertainty still lingering there. “Dean?”, you prompted, your voice tinged with curiosity and a touch of impatience. “You planning on saying something, or are you just going to stare all night?”.

Dean blinked, snapping out of his daze, though his tongue felt tied in knots. “Uh—yeah, I…”. He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a shaky breath. “I had this whole speech planned. You know, something smooth. But now…”.

“Now?”, you pressed, your tone softening just slightly.

Dean sighed, his green eyes locking onto yours, and for once, there was no smirk, no teasing grin. Just raw honesty. “Now I’m standing here like an idiot because everything I wanted to say feels like it’s not enough”.

"You’re balls grew too heavy, huh?”, you grumbled, your voice sharp with hurt as you crossed your arms even tighter over your chest. “I mean, you ghosted me for what? A week? After leaving right after you fucked me, not responding to my text? Even if it’s just something casual, Dean, a little heads up wouldn’t have killed you”.

Dean flinched at your words, his green eyes darting away briefly as guilt washed over his face. He shifted his weight, looking like he’d rather be facing down a pack of vampires than having this conversation. “I didn’t mean to—”, he started, but his voice faltered when he saw the look on your face.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to try to explain himself. He sighed heavily, awkwardly gesturing with his broken arm with a slight wince. “I had a case”, he mumbled, his voice strained. “Things… got messy”.

“Oh, really?”, you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you gestured at his arm. “And I guess the case also broke your ability to send a single text, huh? Something like, ‘Hey, I’m alive, but busy?’ Would that have been so hard?”.

Dean winced again, this time not just from the pain in his arm. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I screwed up”, he admitted finally, his voice low and rough. “I thought I was doing the right thing, giving you space”.

“Space?”, you repeated, incredulous. “Dean, I didn’t ask for space. I asked for some goddamn respect. You don’t just vanish on someone you’re… whatever this is with”.

“I know”, he said, his voice softening as he took a tentative step closer to you. “You’re right. I screwed up. And I’m sorry”.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you looked away from him. “You can’t just waltz in here, say sorry, and expect everything to be okay”.

Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked at you, clearly at a loss for words. His hand moved instinctively, gently sliding around your waist. His touch was tentative, almost hesitant, but the size of his hand against you made you feel smaller, softer, despite the fire still burning in your chest.

“C´mon, sweetheart”, he mumbled, his voice low and coaxing as his thumb brushed against your side. “Don’t be like this”.

You glared up at him, your lips parting to snap back, but the vulnerability in his green eyes gave you pause. He wasn’t just trying to smooth things over—he was trying to save something he thought he’d already lost.

Dean pulled you a little closer, his grip still gentle, as if giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted to. His face was inches from yours now, and the warmth of him, the familiar scent of leather and aftershave, was intoxicating. “I missed you”, he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in it hit you like a punch to the chest.

Your breath hitched, your resolve wavering as his words lingered in the air. You wanted to hold onto your anger, to make him understand how much he’d hurt you, but the way he looked at you—with a mix of guilt, longing, and something deeper—made it so damn hard.

“Dean…”, you started, your voice trembling, but he cut you off, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

“I mean it”, he said, his tone firm but soft. His thumb brushed against your skin, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I screwed up. I know I did. But don’t think for a second that I didn’t miss you. Every damn day”.

Your chest tightened, your anger melting under the weight of his confession. You searched his face, looking for any hint of dishonesty, but all you saw was raw, unfiltered emotion. It made your heart ache, even as a small part of you tried to resist.

“Then why didn’t you just say something?”, you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, his forehead leaning closer to yours, as if the weight of his own thoughts was too much to bear. He took a shaky breath, his hand still cradling your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I’m just an idiot”, he whispered, his voice low and rough. “An idiot that can’t get you out of his head".

The rawness in his words struck something deep inside you, unraveling the anger you’d held onto like a shield. You could see the conflict in his green eyes when they finally opened again—the struggle between wanting to tell you everything and the fear that it wouldn’t be enough.

You sighed deeply, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. The vulnerability in his voice, the way his green eyes searched yours for any sign of forgiveness—it all made your chest ache. But you couldn’t keep standing there, tangled in emotions without an outlet.

You took a small step back, gently pulling away from his touch. His hand lingered in the air for a moment before dropping to his side, his expression shifting to something unreadable. Without saying a word, you turned and pulled the door open wide, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“You’re paying for pizza”, you grumbled, your tone half-annoyed, half-teasing.

Dean blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion before a small, relieved smile crept onto his lips. He let out a soft chuckle, scratching the back of his neck as he stepped inside. “Yeah, alright”, he said, his voice lighter than it had been all night. “Fair enough”.

You closed the door behind him, shaking your head as you tried to ignore the flutter in your chest. It wasn’t forgiveness—not entirely—but it was something. A start. And right now, that was enough.

Dean glanced around your apartment, his hands in his pockets as he tried to act casual, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “You want the usual?”, he asked, shooting you a sideways look.

“Extra cheese”, you replied, heading toward the kitchen to grab a couple of beers. You didn’t look back at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, warm and steady.

When you returned with the beers, Dean had already grabbed his phone, dialing the number for your favorite pizza place. As he placed the order, you sat down on the couch, pulling your legs up and wrapping your arms around your knees. You weren’t sure what the rest of the night would bring, but for now, you’d take this small, fragile peace.

The pizza barely had time to cool down before the inevitable happened.

What started as a playful exchange—a teasing comment here, a sly look there—quickly spiraled into something far more intense. Dean’s hands, calloused but oh-so-gentle, found their way to your waist as you passed him a beer. A smirk tugged at his lips, his green eyes darkening as he leaned closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. That was all it took.

Moments later, you found yourself pressed against the wall, Dean’s lips devouring yours with a hunger that sent a thrill racing down your spine. His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch as if memorizing the way you felt beneath him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as a soft moan escaped your lips, spurring him on.

The next thing you knew, he had you on the couch, your back arching as he kissed his way down your neck, his name tumbling from your lips. Every touch, every kiss, every rough and whispered "Fuck, I missed you", set your skin on fire.

When he flipped you onto your stomach, his body pressing into yours as he trailed kisses along your shoulder, you felt yourself trembling beneath him. "You drive me crazy," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with need. And as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against him, you gasped his name again, breathless.

But Dean wasn’t done. The living room was just the beginning.

By the time you made it to the bedroom, your body was spent, yet every touch reignited that burning desire. He had you on top of him, his hands guiding your movements, his low groans of pleasure mixing with your breathless cries. "That’s it, sweetheart", he rasped, his voice strained but full of praise. "Just like that".

Every position, every moment, was a dance of passion and desperation, neither of you able to get enough. By the time you were lying in front of him on your knees, his hands on your waist as he pulled you back into him with each thrust, your legs were trembling, and your voice was hoarse from crying out his name.

"Dean", you moaned, your head falling back as you gave yourself completely to him, every nerve alight and every ounce of tension replaced by pure, unfiltered pleasure. He groaned in response, his grip tightening as his pace quickened, chasing both of you toward the edge.

When you finally collapsed onto the bed, your chest heaving and your body trembling in the aftermath, Dean fell beside you, his own breathing ragged. His hand reached for yours, lacing your fingers together as the quiet settled around you.

"Still mad at me?", he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

You laughed softly, too spent to argue. "Ask me tomorrow".

Dean smirked at your breathless response, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Well”, he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, “that means I didn’t do my job good enough”.

Before you could process his words, Dean was already shifting, trailing kisses down your stomach as he moved lower. His strong hands gently nudged your thighs apart, spreading them wide despite your soft whine of protest.

“Dean”, you whimpered, your voice tinged with exhaustion and the dull ache of overstimulation. “I’m so—”.

“Shh”, he cut you off, his hands gripping your thighs firmly but tenderly. “I’ll be gentle. Promise”. His voice was a soothing rasp, but the hungry look in his eyes betrayed his restraint. “Just let me take care of you, sweetheart”.

His lips pressed soft kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you shiver despite the soreness radiating through your body. He didn’t rush, didn’t push you too far, instead letting his tongue and lips work their magic with slow, deliberate care. The heat of his mouth, combined with the pressure of his hands keeping you steady, made your head spin.

“Dean…”, you gasped, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he pressed a kiss right where you were most sensitive. The tenderness in his movements made you ache in a different way—not just physically but emotionally, as if he were pouring everything he couldn’t say into every touch.

“You’re so damn perfect”, he muttered against your skin, his voice reverent as he buried his face between your thighs. His tongue moved languidly, teasing you with soft, featherlight strokes before he pressed a little harder, making you whimper as the tension built again, slow and steady.

Despite your soreness, your body responded to him almost instantly, your hips twitching involuntarily as his mouth worked wonders. He hummed softly, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “Let me hear you, sweetheart”, he murmured, his words muffled against you.

You couldn’t stop the moans slipping from your lips, your hands gripping the sheets tighter as he coaxed you closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering. Every stroke of his tongue, every gentle squeeze of his hands, was designed to drive you wild, to show you just how much he cared without needing words.

When your body finally gave in, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave, Dean didn’t stop. He stayed with you, his lips and tongue working you through every last tremor, his hands holding you steady as you fell apart beneath him.

As your breathing slowed and the haze of pleasure began to clear, Dean pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening and his green eyes full of satisfaction. “Better?”, he asked, his smirk softening into a tender smile.

You could only nod, too spent to speak, but the look in your eyes said it all. Dean leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before collapsing beside you on the bed.

Dean pulled you close, his arm wrapping securely around you while you instinctively shifted, careful not to press against his broken arm. He winced slightly as he adjusted, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head, and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions he’d been holding back all week.

You nestled against him, your fingers brushing lightly over the uninjured side of his chest, the quiet between you soothing. But as you tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes flicked to his bruised and bandaged arm. Concern clouded your expression, and you whispered softly, “You should go to the hospital with that, Dean”.

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on you slightly. “I’ll be fine”, he muttered, his voice warm but dismissive. “Just need a little time, that’s all”.

You frowned, your hand resting gently on his chest. “Dean, a broken arm isn’t something you just shake off”.

He tilted his head down to meet your gaze, his green eyes filled with affection and a hint of amusement. “You worried about me, sweetheart?”, he teased, though his voice carried more tenderness than usual.

You rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look as your fingers traced lightly over his uninjured chest. “Of course I’m worried about you”, you said, your tone a mix of exasperation and genuine concern. “Do you have any idea how stubborn you are?”.

Dean smirked, his green eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’ve heard rumors”, he quipped, though the slight wince that followed gave away the pain he was trying to downplay.

You huffed, shaking your head as you pushed yourself up slightly, your gaze flicking back to his bandaged arm. “This isn’t funny, Dean. You need to take care of yourself. What happens if it gets worse?”.

Dean reached up with his good hand, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek as his smirk softened into something more affectionate. “Then I’ll have you to yell at me some more”, he said, his voice low and teasing. “Pretty good deal, if you ask me”.

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible”.

“And yet, here you are”, Dean shot back, his grin widening as he tugged you back down against his chest. “Guess I’m doing something right”.

You sighed, resting your head against him again, though the worry in your chest didn’t ease. “Fine”, you muttered, your voice muffled against his skin. “But if I have to drag your ass to the hospital myself, I will”.

Dean chuckled, the sound rumbling beneath your ear. “Noted”, he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “But for now, can we just stay like this? Just for a little while?”.

You smiled softly, letting yourself relax into his warmth despite the lingering worry. “Alright”, you whispered. “Just for a little while”.

And as you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you felt the weight of the world slip away, if only for a moment.

For the next two weeks, Dean stayed every night, a constant presence that both surprised and comforted you. He didn’t vanish in the morning anymore, didn’t leave you guessing or questioning what you were to him. Instead, he was there when you woke up, holding you close, his warmth and touch a quiet reassurance of something unspoken between you.

This morning was no different—except it was Dean who woke first.

It was just after eight, though you were still deeply asleep after he’d worn you out completely until four in the morning. Dean, however, was wide awake, his green eyes watching you with a mixture of affection and desire. He couldn’t help himself as he leaned in, his lips finding the soft skin of your neck, pressing open-mouthed, lingering kisses along the curve. His tongue flicked out gently, tasting your skin, his stubble adding a delicious roughness that had you stirring beneath him.

He didn’t stop there. His kisses trailed lower, down to your shoulder, his hands already moving to cup your bare breasts. His palms were warm and firm, his thumbs brushing over your nipples with just enough pressure to draw a soft, sleepy moan from your lips.

You stirred, your breath hitching as you slowly woke to the heat of his mouth and the teasing movements of his hands. “Dean…”, you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep, your body instinctively arching toward his touch.

“Morning, sweetheart”, he rumbled against your skin, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver through you. His lips continued their journey, trailing lower as his hands kneaded gently, coaxing you further out of your sleepy haze.

You let out a breathy laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair as you shifted beneath him. “Didn’t we just…?”, you whispered, your words trailing off into a soft gasp as his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone.

Dean chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Guess I didn’t wear you out enough”, he teased, his hands sliding lower, over the curve of your waist and hips. “But don’t worry—I plan on fixing that”.

Before you could respond, he shifted, his body pressing closer to yours as his lips captured yours in a heated kiss. His touch was unrelenting, his movements deliberate, and any lingering traces of sleep quickly dissolved under the intensity of his attention.

“Dean”, you breathed again, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and surrender as his hand slid between your thighs, already coaxing you back to the edge of bliss.

“Yeah, sweetheart”, he murmured against your lips, his green eyes dark with desire as he grinned down at you. “I’m not done with you yet”.

After the shower, you sat cross-legged on your bed, a towel wrapped around you as you texted your best friend. She’d been your confidant through everything, from the day you met Dean to the rollercoaster of emotions that followed. You blushed softly as you typed, recounting the past two weeks—the way Dean had been staying, holding you, and how different it felt compared to anything you’d experienced before.

A soft smirk crossed your lips as you sent the message, but you quickly dropped your phone when Dean emerged from the bathroom. His towel hung low on his hips, the droplets of water trailing down his chest making your blush deepen.

“Who you texting that’s got you all flustered like that?”, Dean asked, his voice low and teasing as he ran a hand through his damp hair. His green eyes sparkled with curiosity, and his smirk hinted at just how much he enjoyed catching you off guard.

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly flipped your phone face-down on the bed. “No one”, you mumbled, your voice a little too quick, betraying your attempt to sound casual. Before he could press further, you stood and stepped closer, pressing a kiss to his lips to distract him. “I’m making coffee”, you whispered against his mouth before slipping out of his grasp and heading toward the door.

Dean stayed back, shaking his head slightly as he watched you go, a grin playing on his lips. He moved to grab his clothes, pulling on his boxers and jeans. As he reached for his shirt, though, the soft ping of your phone caught his attention.

He hesitated, glancing at the door to make sure you weren’t about to walk back in. Curiosity got the better of him, and he picked up your phone, the screen lighting up to show the notification.

A text from your best friend: “Yeah, the dumb ones always fucking you raw“.

Dean stared at your phone, the words on the screen glaring back at him like a slap to the face. The phrase “the dumb ones always fucking you raw” played over and over in his mind, and for a moment, he just stood there, his jaw tightening as he processed it.

Dumb.

Was that really how you saw him? The word felt heavier than it should, loaded with every insecurity he’d buried deep down for weeks now. Sure, you’d said it before…Sam being the smarter one, and yeah, he wasn’t exactly a walking encyclopedia like his brother, but dumb? That stung. Badly.

Dean set the phone back on the bed with an almost deliberate care, his mind spinning. He wasn’t a genius, sure. But he wasn’t stupid either. He could piece together cases, track supernatural threats, keep himself and Sam alive through sheer grit and experience. Hell, he’d practically raised his brother while hunting monsters. But this? This made him feel like all of that didn’t matter.

He ran a hand down his face, muttering under his breath as he tried to shake off the feeling. “It’s just a joke”, he said to himself, though the words felt hollow. But no matter how much he tried to brush it off, the weight of the word lingered.

When you came back into the room with two steaming mugs of coffee, your smile faltered slightly as you saw the tightness in his jaw and the way his shoulders were squared, like he was bracing himself for something.

“You okay?”, you asked, setting the mugs down on the nightstand and moving closer to him.

Dean glanced at you, his green eyes dark and unreadable, before forcing a faint smirk onto his lips. “Yeah, peachy”, he said, though his tone didn’t carry its usual charm.

You frowned, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?”, you pressed, your voice soft. "Something happend?".

Dean watched you for a long second, his green eyes searching your face as if trying to decide whether to say something or let it go. Finally, he shook his head, forcing a faint smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nah”, he mumbled, his voice gruff. “Everything’s fine”.

Before you could press him further, he leaned down and kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for just a moment too long. Then he straightened up, grabbing his shirt from the back of the chair and tugging it over his head. He reached for one of the mugs of coffee you’d set down, wrapping his hands around it like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You frowned, watching him carefully. Something was off—you could feel it in the tension radiating from him—but Dean had always been good at deflecting, at hiding what was really going on beneath the surface. You wanted to push, but you also didn’t want to risk making things worse.

“I’ll see you tonight?”, you asked softly, searching his face for any sign of what was bothering him.

Dean nodded, his smirk softening just slightly. “Yeah”, he said, his voice quieter now. “I’ll be around”.

You hesitated, but eventually nodded, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before grabbing your bag and heading out the door for work. The sound of the door closing echoed through the quiet apartment, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts.

He sat there for a moment, staring into the black surface of the coffee in his mug. The words from your phone flashed in his mind again, and the knot in his chest tightened. Letting out a sharp breath, he set the mug down on the counter and grabbed his jacket.

Dean didn’t waste any time as he left your apartment, heading straight for the Impala. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, the leather creaking under his fingers. He didn’t know exactly what he was feeling—hurt, anger, frustration.

With a quick glance in the rearview mirror, he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, heading back to the bunker. The drive was quiet, the rumble of Baby’s engine the only sound as Dean tried to push the thoughts out of his head.

But they wouldn’t go away. Not this time. Not when it felt like all those old insecurities he’d buried over the last few weeks were bubbling back to the surface.

By the time he reached the bunker, his jaw was tight and his hands ached from gripping the wheel. He parked Baby in the garage and sat there for a moment, his heart pounding as he tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next.

He didn’t have an answer. But he knew he couldn’t face you until he did.

As the evening settled in, you found yourself in the kitchen, carefully stirring the pot of pasta sauce you’d decided to make. Cooking wasn’t usually your thing, but tonight, you wanted to do something special—something Dean might appreciate. The idea of him walking through your door, teasing you about your newfound domestic streak before digging into a meal you’d actually made, brought a small smile to your face.

But as the minutes ticked by, your smile faded. The clock on the wall showed that Dean was already running late. He’d never been the punctual type, but he was consistent—always showing up within a certain window. You tried not to let the unease creeping into your chest take hold. Maybe he was just stuck on something or running errands.

Finally, you grabbed your phone and sent a quick text: “Hey, when are you coming over? Food’s ready”.

You set the phone down on the counter, your heart sinking as the seconds stretched into minutes with no reply. You busied yourself with the finishing touches on the meal, checking your phone every few moments until, finally, it pinged with a response.

Dean’s message was short and to the point: “Can’t make it tonight. Got an important case in Texas”.

Your stomach sank as you stared at the screen, reading and rereading the message. It was so unlike him, so abrupt. He hadn’t even mentioned he was leaving town, let alone for a case.

You typed back, trying to keep your tone light despite the growing weight in your chest: “Texas? Since when? Thought you’d give me a heads-up”.

A few minutes passed before his reply came in: “Sorry. Came up last minute. I’ll call you when I can”.

The disappointment hit you hard, though you told yourself it shouldn’t. You weren’t his girlfriend, not officially. Dean wasn’t the kind of guy who made promises or stuck to plans. But after the last two weeks, after how he’d been showing up for you—staying the night, holding you close—it felt like you’d turned a corner. Like maybe this was something more.

You set your phone down and sighed, staring at the meal you’d prepared with care. The table was set, candles lit, everything perfect. But now, the apartment felt achingly empty.

“It’s fine”, you muttered to yourself, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “It’s not like you had expectations”.

Still, the sting of his absence lingered, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the unsettling ache of being alone.

The evening dragged on as you sat in your quiet kitchen, the food on the table growing cold. You picked at your plate, but every bite felt heavy, tasteless. The glow of the candles, which had once seemed warm and inviting, now felt hollow and out of place.

Your phone sat beside you, screen dark and unyielding. Dean hadn’t texted again, and the last message—“I’ll call you when I can”—played in your mind like a cruel echo. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal. He’d been clear from the beginning that this thing between you was casual, undefined. But the way he’d held you, kissed you, whispered how much he missed you—it felt like so much more. And now? Now it felt like he’d pulled back again, retreating into the walls he’d always kept so tightly around himself.

After an hour of sitting in silence, you blew out the candles and cleared the table, shoving the untouched leftovers into the fridge. The apartment felt stifling, so you grabbed your jacket and went for a walk, hoping the cool night air would clear your head. But even as you wandered the quiet streets, your thoughts kept circling back to Dean.

Why had he been so short, so abrupt? Something didn’t sit right, but you didn’t know if it was your insecurities talking or if there really was something he wasn’t telling you.

By the time you got home, the ache in your chest had dulled into a numb kind of sadness. You showered, got into bed, and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, replaying every moment of the past two weeks in your mind.

Meanwhile, Dean sat in the bunker’s library, nursing a glass of whiskey as he stared at his phone. The screen was dark, but your name sat at the top of his messages, the text you’d sent still unanswered. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting as the silence stretched on.

“Texas”, he muttered to himself, the lie tasting bitter even now. He wasn’t in Texas. There was no case. But what was he supposed to do? Tell you the truth? That he’d read the text from your friend, let his insecurities spiral, and now didn’t know how to face you without feeling like an idiot?

He took another sip of whiskey, the burn doing little to chase away the hollow feeling in his chest. He wanted to see you, wanted to tell you that he missed you more than he could put into words, but the fear of not being enough—of screwing this up—kept him rooted to the spot.

Sam walked into the room, glancing at Dean with a raised eyebrow. “Still drinking?”, he asked, his tone light but curious. “Thought you’d be halfway to her place by now”.

Dean shot him a look, his green eyes sharp. “Not in the mood, Sammy”.

Sam didn’t press, but the knowing glance he gave Dean said enough. “Whatever you’re running from, you’re only making it worse… Again”, he said before walking off, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts.

Dean sighed, setting the glass down and rubbing a hand over his face. He hated this—hated the distance he was putting between you, hated the way his own doubts were winning. But for now, he couldn’t seem to find a way out of his own head.

And so the night passed, both of you lying in your separate beds, each feeling the absence of the other in a way that was impossible to ignore.

The fifth night of silence was the breaking point.

You sat on your couch, staring at your phone, the cursor blinking at the edge of the text you’d typed and erased a dozen times. The past few days had been unbearable—Dean’s responses had been short, almost dismissive, and he hadn’t shown up once. Whatever spark had been keeping the two of you connected now felt like a dying ember, and you couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore.

You took a deep breath, your fingers trembling as you typed the words you’d been too afraid to admit, even to yourself, until now.

I think I fell in love with you.

You stared at the message, your heart pounding in your chest as you hovered over the send button.

What was the worst that could happen? He didn’t feel the same? He was already pulling away, so what did you really have to lose?

Before you could second-guess yourself, you hit send, the message disappearing into the ether. The instant it was gone, panic set in. You stared at your phone, the silence in the room amplifying your racing thoughts.

Seconds passed. Then a minute. Then five. No reply.

The knot in your stomach tightened, and you set your phone down, trying to convince yourself you’d done the right thing. At least now, you knew you’d said what you needed to. The ball was in his court.

Dean’s phone buzzed on the workbench in the bunker’s garage, where he’d been elbow-deep in tinkering with the Impala’s engine. He wiped his hands on a rag, grabbing the phone with a sigh. Another text, probably from Sam reminding him about some supply run, or maybe Jodie—

The message stopped him cold.

I think I fell in love with you.

Dean stared at the words, his heart slamming against his ribs as if the engine in front of him had roared to life. His hand tightened around the phone, and for a moment, he just stood there, the world narrowing to that single line of text.

You’d fallen for him. Him. Dean Winchester.

His first instinct was disbelief—how could you, of all people, feel that way about him?

Dean stared at the message, his mind racing in a million different directions, each one darker than the last. For a moment, the sheer disbelief was almost comforting—how could someone like you, with your spark, your kindness, fall for someone like him? But as the seconds ticked by, a gnawing doubt crept in, whispering insidious thoughts he couldn’t shake.

What if this wasn’t real?

His second guess was like a punch to the gut. What if you were messing with him? Hell, what if this was just a game, something to laugh about later with your friend? He could practically hear it now: “Guess what I told Dean Winchester? Yeah, that dumb guy”.

The thought twisted in his chest, sharp and painful, leaving him paralyzed. It was stupid, he knew that. You weren’t cruel. You weren’t that kind of person. But the voice in his head didn’t care about logic—it was the same voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he never would be.

Dean leaned against the Impala, the cool metal grounding him as he clenched his phone in his hand. The words on the screen felt heavier now, suffocating. He wanted to believe you meant it, wanted it more than he’d let himself admit. But trusting that—trusting anyone—had never come easy to him.

He typed out a response, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard before deleting it. Then he tried again, this time settling on something simple, something that wouldn’t give too much away.

"Why?".

It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t clever. But it was the only thing he could manage without letting his doubts spill out completely. He hit send, his heart pounding as the message disappeared, and he tossed the phone onto the bench like it had burned him.

Now all he could do was wait.

You stared at Dean’s reply on your phone: “Why?”.

Your brow furrowed, a mix of confusion and anxiety tightening your chest. Why? What was that supposed to mean? Why did you feel this way? Why were you telling him? Why… what?

Fingers trembling, you typed back quickly, the raw emotion behind your words bleeding through: “Why? What do you mean why?”.

You hit send, staring at the screen as your heart raced, every second feeling like an eternity.

Meanwhile, Dean sat on the bench in the garage, your message lighting up his screen. He stared at it, his jaw tightening as the doubts that had consumed him for days came roaring back to life. It wasn’t just the distance he’d put between the two of you—it was the text. That damn text from your friend: “Yeah, the dumb ones always fucking you raw”.

The words had seared themselves into his brain, gnawing at every insecurity he’d ever had. He could almost hear the implied laughter behind it, like he was some sort of joke. Like all he was good for was the physical—like he wasn’t worth anything more.

Dean leaned forward, rubbing his hand over his face as he tried to push the thoughts away. He didn’t want to believe you saw him that way. Hell, he knew you weren’t the type to mock someone behind their back. But the fear lingered. Maybe it wasn’t about you being cruel—maybe it was just the truth. Maybe he really was the dumb one in your eyes, good enough for a roll in the sheets but not enough to be the kind of man you’d fall for.

The buzzing of his phone jolted him from his thoughts. He picked it up reluctantly, your message staring back at him: “Why? What do you mean why?”.

Dean clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the phone. He could imagine you, sitting there, confused and probably hurt, wondering why the hell he couldn’t just give you a straight answer. He hated this. Hated himself for dragging it out instead of facing it head-on.

Dean hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as a thousand thoughts warred in his mind. He wanted to be honest, but the weight of his insecurities pressed down on him, making it nearly impossible to put what he felt into words.

Finally, he started typing, his thumbs moving slowly, each word feeling like a gamble:

“I mean, why would you fall for someone like me?”.

He stared at the message for a long moment before hitting send, the knot in his stomach tightening even further. Dean knew he sounded pathetic, but the words felt real—raw and unfiltered. It was the best he could manage, even if it left him exposed.

Back at your apartment, your phone buzzed, and your breath hitched as you read his response. Your brow furrowed in confusion and disbelief. Why would you fall for him? What kind of question was that? Did he really not see how much he meant to you?

You typed back almost immediately, your heart pounding as the words spilled out:

“Dean, are you seriously asking that?”.

Dean leaned back against the Impala, his broken arm resting gingerly in his lap as his phone buzzed with your response. He stared at it for a moment, then sighed heavily, his thumbs moving across the keyboard with the weight of every doubt and insecurity that had been eating at him for days.

“Sure do”, he typed back, the words bitter even in text. “Since when are you falling for the dumb ones? Thought I´m only good for a nice fuck”.

He hit send before he could overthink it, his heart sinking as he stared at the screen. He hated himself for saying it, but the words reflected every fear he couldn’t shake.

Back at your apartment, you read his reply, and the meaning behind it hit you like a bolt of lightning. It clicked. The text from your friend—the one Dean must’ve seen. Your heart sank, your fingers trembling as you thought about how that stupid comment might have twisted everything.

You quickly opened the chat with your friend, scrolling back to the message that started it all. You’d replied to her then, hadn’t you? Something about how wrong she was, about how Dean wasn’t dumb, not even close. You found your response, your words glaring back at you:

“Dean’s not dumb. Sure, he’s not into books like I am, but he’s life smart. He’s caring, passionate, funny, and real. He makes me laugh when I need it, makes me feel safe, makes me feel… loved. Even without saying it. He makes me happy. And I think I´m in love with him”.

The memory of typing those words made your chest ache, and now, you realized just how much they still rang true. You’d seen the best of Dean Winchester, the man who could brighten your darkest days and make you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered. He wasn’t dumb—he was everything.

Without wasting another second, you grabbed your keys and slipped on your shoes, your mind racing as you headed to your car.

The drive to the bunker felt like an eternity, every second weighed down by the things you needed to say, the things you hoped Dean would finally hear.

When you pulled into the familiar driveway, you barely registered the rumble of your engine shutting off. You hurried to the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you knocked with more urgency than you intended.

A few moments later, the door swung open, and it wasn’t Dean who stood there—it was Sam. His expression shifted from mild curiosity to surprise when he saw you, his brows raising slightly. “Y/N”, he said, stepping aside to let you in. “Wasn’t expecting you”.

“Is Dean here?”, you asked, your voice breathless but determined.

Sam studied you for a moment, his sharp eyes catching the tension in your posture, the flush in your cheeks. He nodded, tilting his head toward the garage. “Yeah, he’s working on Baby. Again”.

You murmured a quick thanks, brushing past him as you made your way through the bunker, your footsteps echoing against the walls. The sound of tools clinking and the low hum of music reached you as you approached the garage, your heart racing faster with every step.

When you reached the doorway, you saw him. Dean was bent over the Impala, his focus on whatever part of her he was tinkering with. His bandaged arm rested at his side, a clear sign he wasn’t pushing it too hard, though the tension in his shoulders was impossible to miss.

“Dean”, you said softly, your voice cutting through the quiet like a knife.

He froze, his hand tightening on the wrench before he slowly straightened up and turned to face you. His green eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of everything unspoken between you hung heavy in the air.

“You shouldn’t be here”, he said finally, his voice rough and guarded. “I thought I made that clear”.

You took a deep breath, stepping closer, your voice soft but steady. “So that’s what you’ve been doing?”, you asked quietly, meeting his green eyes. “Being all distant and cold to… what? End things?”.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he set the wrench down with more force than necessary. “There’s nothing to end”, he grumbled, his voice low and defensive, but the flicker of hurt in his eyes betrayed him. “Not if there wasn’t anything there to begin with”.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you refused to back down. “Don’t do that”, you said, your tone firmer now. “Don’t stand there and act like none of this mattered. Like I didn’t matter”.

Dean let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair as he turned away, his back to you. “You don’t get it”, he muttered, shaking his head. “You think you know me, but you don’t”.

“Then tell me”, you pressed, stepping closer to him. “Tell me what I don’t know, Dean”.

He turned back to you abruptly, his green eyes blazing with frustration and something deeper—something raw. “You think you fell for me, huh?”, he snapped, his voice laced with bitterness. “What happens when the shiny, exciting part of this wears off? When you wake up one day and realize I’m not the guy you want?”.

You stared at him, taken aback by the vulnerability bleeding through his words. “Dean…”.

“No, let me finish”, he interrupted, his voice rough. “You think I don’t know how this ends? I’m the dumb one, remember? I’m good for a good time, maybe a distraction, but that’s it. That’s all I’ve ever been to anyone”.

You hesitated, your chest tightening at the pain behind Dean’s words. His self-doubt was laid bare, raw and vulnerable, and you couldn’t let him believe that about himself—not when you’d seen the truth. You stepped closer, your voice soft but steady as you spoke.

“Dean”, you said, your hands reaching out to gently touch his arms, “I won’t lie. I had my reservations at first. I mean, you came across like… like someone who’d promise a good time and then leave before sunrise”.

He flinched slightly, the truth of your words cutting deeper than you intended. But before he could pull away, you tightened your grip, grounding him.

“But you’re not just that”, you continued, your voice firmer now. “You’re so much more. You care so deeply about the people around you—even when you try to hide it. You’re the guy who fights for people, who carries more weight on his shoulders than anyone should have to. You make me feel safe. You make me laugh when I need it the most. And you… you make me feel seen, Dean. Like I’m not just someone passing through your life”.

Dean kept looking away, his jaw tightening and loosening as if he was trying to process what you were saying but didn’t quite believe it. The tension in his shoulders was palpable, and you could see the war in his mind playing out in the way his hands flexed at his sides.

You sighed softly, stepping closer, your voice quieter but firm. “And you’re absolutely not dumb, Dean”, you said, the words carrying a weight you hoped he’d feel. “Yeah, you’re a fucking dork sometimes. You say ridiculous stuff, make more jokes than anything, but that doesn’t make you dumb”.

He flinched again, his eyes still not meeting yours. You hesitated for a moment, then reached up, your hand brushing against his scruffy jaw. It took effort, especially given how much taller he was, but you gently guided his face to look at you, searching his eyes for some sign that he was listening.

“Look at you”, you murmured, your thumb grazing his cheek, the rough texture grounding you. “You’re the guy who figures out how to save people when no one else can. You can walk into a room and know exactly what’s wrong, who’s hiding what, and how to fix it. You think that’s not smart?”.

Dean’s green eyes flicked to yours, uncertain and guarded, but you could tell he was listening now. You smiled softly, your heart aching as you continued. “I don’t care if you don’t know useless stuff like advanced math or politics or whatever other crap people think makes someone smart. That stuff doesn’t matter to me”.

You stepped even closer, your other hand resting lightly on his chest. “What matters to me is that you know how to keep people safe. That you know how to make me laugh when I feel like the world’s falling apart. That you care more than you let anyone see, even when it’s eating you alive. That’s where you’re smart, Dean. And that’s what makes you… you”.

Dean’s gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing as your words reached him. His hands, which had been hanging tensely at his sides, slowly moved, one brushing against your waist as though he needed to anchor himself. You stepped even closer, your voice dropping to a whisper, your heart pounding as you laid everything bare.

“You’re passionate”, you murmured, your fingers gently brushing his cheek. “About everything you love. Baby, the job, the people you care about—you throw yourself into all of it, even when it costs you”.

Dean swallowed hard, his green eyes locked onto yours, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as you continued.

“And that’s why I fell for you”, you admitted, the words trembling slightly as they left your lips. “You’re not like everyone else, Dean. You’re not just some guy who passes through someone’s life. You make people feel safe, feel seen. You make me feel seen”.

His hand tightened slightly on your waist, his jaw working as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You smiled faintly, your cheeks flushing as you added, “And yeah, sure, you’ve given me the most and best orgasms I’ve ever had in my life”. That earned a faint, shaky laugh from him, his lips twitching upward despite the storm in his eyes.

“But that’s not why I fell for you”, you said, your tone softening again. “It’s the quiet moments, Dean. The way you handle me when it’s just us. The way you hold me like I’m the only thing keeping you grounded. The way you look at me like I matter”.

His breath hitched, and he looked away for a moment, his fingers flexing on your waist before his green eyes flicked back to yours. “You do matter”, he said, his voice low and rough, thick with emotion he could barely contain. “More than I can even—”.

He cut himself off, his free hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world. “You deserve better than me”, he whispered, but his voice wavered, and you could see the fear and doubt warring with the undeniable truth of his feelings.

“Let me decide that”, you whispered back, leaning into his touch. “You’ve already shown me everything I need to know”.

Dean stared at you for a long moment, his emotions laid bare in a way you’d never seen before. Then, without another word, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow, deep, and filled with all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say. It wasn’t about passion or heat—it was about connection, about finally letting himself believe he was worthy of what you were offering.

And in that moment, you knew he was.

Dean’s hands slid to your hips, his grip firm but gentle as he lifted you effortlessly onto the workbench. You let out a small gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders as he stepped between your legs.

The move wasn’t rushed or hungry—it was deliberate, practical. You tilted your head, confusion flashing in your eyes, and he smirked faintly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Relax”, he murmured, his green eyes warm as they met yours. “I’m not trying to jump you right now”.

Your brow furrowed, a blush creeping up your neck. “Then… what are you doing?”.

Dean let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand. “You’re so damn small, sweetheart”, he muttered, his voice filled with a mix of exasperation and affection. “My back’s been killing me for weeks ‘cause I’m always leaning down to talk to you, kiss you, or just—”. He paused, giving you a meaningful look, “—exist in your general vicinity”.

You blinked, and then a laugh bubbled up, soft and genuine. “Seriously?”.

“Dead serious”, he said with a playful scoff. “You’re tiny. Adorable, but tiny. You should come with a warning label: May cause chronic back pain”.

Your laughter softened into a smile, and you reached up, your fingers tracing the edges of his stubbled jaw. “You could’ve just said something, you know”.

Dean smirked, his hands settling on your thighs, the warmth of his touch grounding you. “Yeah, well”, he said, leaning in slightly so his forehead brushed yours, “figured it was worth the pain. Still is”.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your head, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”.

Dean’s hands tightened on your thighs as he pulled you closer, the movement effortless yet deliberate. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and before you could say another word, his lips were on yours. This kiss was different—not rushed or rough, but deep and unhurried, his passion tempered by a surprising tenderness.

His stubble brushed against your skin, grounding you as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours, pouring everything he couldn’t say out loud into the kiss. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, an apology, a promise.

Dean’s hands slid from your thighs to your waist, his thumbs brushing over your sides in slow, soothing circles as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling you beneath his hands. You melted into him, the soft pressure of his lips and the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss making your heart race.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his green eyes meeting yours with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. “I’m impossible, huh?”, he murmured, his voice low and warm, his breath mingling with yours.

You smiled, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest. “Completely”, you teased softly, though your tone was laced with affection. “But I guess I can live with it”.

Dean chuckled, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “You’d better”, he said, brushing his nose against yours. “’Cause I don’t think I’m letting you go anytime soon”.

-The End-

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @stellamagicmoon @lunaleah @deansimpalababy @livingdeadblondequeen @sehyojae @magnificientgirl  @ladykitana90 @ladysparkles78

[insomniac4000]

I love ur Chris fics!!

Pretty please can I have one of him being all nervous on a first date and trying to impress her and he thinks its gone badly but she texts him the next day and hes like all surprised? Thx

Thank you so much! :)

Here we go

Chris would be the first person to tell you he was no good at dating, he knew deep down that he was the main reason why a lot of his dates failed, he wanted to find love so badly but he was just… bad at it. Still he was a romantic at heart so he persisted with the apps, he had to believe the right person was still out there. He stared at his phone screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard as he reread the last message from Y/N. They had been exchanging texts for days, a steady back-and-forth of witty banter and playful teasing. She was funny, quick with her comebacks, and surprisingly unimpressed by his YouTube career, which he found both refreshing and terrifying.

His stomach twisted with nerves as he typed, "How about drinks tomorrow? 7 PM?" and hit send before he could talk himself out of it.

Seconds later, the three little dots appeared. "Sounds good! See you then :)"

Chris exhaled. He was actually doing this.

The next evening, he arrived at the bar five minutes early, bouncing on the balls of his feet outside before forcing himself in. The low hum of conversation and clinking of glasses filled the space as he took a deep breath, scanning the room. Then he saw her.

Y/N was already at a table, scrolling on her phone. She looked up, met his gaze, and smiled. Chris felt his pulse speed up.

"Hey!" he greeted, perhaps a little too enthusiastically as he slid into the seat opposite her.

"Hey yourself," she replied with an amused smirk. "Early bird?"

"Oh, you know, just being punctual. Super responsible and all that," he said, reaching for the drink menu to hide his nerves.

They ordered their drinks, and as soon as they arrived, Chris took a deep breath. He wanted to be charming. He wanted to be cool. Instead, his mouth ran away from him, she asked him about his job and his mouth just went to overdrive,

"So, uh, yeah, football. It’s kind of my thing. I mean, not like pro-level, but I’m not bad. Actually, I’ve not long played at Wembley and honestly, it was insane. Scoring in front of 90,000 people in the UK’s most iconic pitch I mean come on. People were saying I could’ve gone pro if I hadn’t done YouTube. Well, maybe not pro, but, you know, pretty close…"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sipping her drink. Chris caught himself rambling but couldn't seem to stop. "And, oh! There was this challenge video where I hit the crossbar from, like, halfway down the pitch. First try. Not saying I’m a genius, but…"

He trailed off, feeling the heat creeping up his neck. Y/N was still watching him, her expression unreadable. Was she bored? Annoyed? He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I—uh—I talk a lot when I'm nervous."

Y/N tilted her head. "You nervous?" she teased. "I never would've guessed."

Chris laughed, a little too loudly, and went to take a sip of his drink. Except his grip fumbled, and suddenly, the glass wobbled precariously. He lunged to steady it, knocking against the table in the process. A bit of liquid sloshed over the rim.

"Smooth," Y/N said, her lips twitching.

"I swear, I’m not usually this much of a mess," Chris groaned, setting the glass down carefully.

"You sure? Because I feel like you might have a whole highlight reel of awkward moments."

Chris buried his face in his hands. "You have no idea."

Surprisingly, Y/N just laughed. Not in a mocking way, but in a genuinely entertained way. He peered at her from behind his fingers.

"So, you’re saying if I Google 'ChrisMD awkward moments,' I’m in for a treat?"

Chris groaned. "Please don’t. The internet never forgets."

Y/N grinned. "Noted."

Trying to steer the conversation somewhere else, Chris found himself talking about the footballers he’d met and worked with. "It’s mad, really. I’ve played in videos with some proper legends—like I once did a challenge with Eden Hazard. Absolute wizard with the ball. And then there was Bukayo Saka—genuinely one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet."

"That’s cool," Y/N said, seeming actually interested. "Do they ever give you tips?"

"Oh yeah. Some of them take it really seriously. I’ve filmed with Ronaldo too.

Y/N laughed. “Did you stumble this much with him too?” She asked, Chris laughed.

"Harsh but fair."

Chris could tell she was genuinely enjoying the stories, which made him feel slightly less like an idiot. The rest of the night went… not terribly. He still overtalked a little, still tripped over a few words, but somewhere in the midst of it, the nerves settled. Y/N was easy to talk to. She had stories of her own—about her terrible first job, the time she accidentally walked into a glass door in front of a packed restaurant, and her unexpected obsession with obscure trivia. Chris found himself genuinely laughing, which was a relief.

By the end of the night, they walked out together. "Well, thanks for, uh, tolerating my Ted Talk on my football greatness," Chris joked, scratching the back of his neck.

Y/N smirked. "I’ll be honest, I was expecting more of a sales pitch. 'Date me, and you get exclusive football lessons from a YouTube icon.'"

Chris groaned. "Great, next time I’ll bring a PowerPoint."

She chuckled. "Next time, huh?"

His heart stuttered. "I mean—if you want?"

Y/N just smiled. "Goodnight, Chris."

As she walked away, Chris started heading home, shoving his hands into his pockets. He replayed the night in his head and immediately winced. "Idiot. Absolute idiot. Why did I have to go on about Hazard and Saka? She probably thinks I’m a name-dropper. And the drink? Nearly spilling it like some nervous schoolboy? Brilliant, Chris. Just brilliant."

He kicked a stray stone down the pavement. "You had one job—be normal. And what did you do? Talk about your football achievements like you were on a press tour. I sounded like an overexcited fanboy listing my favourite players."

He groaned, tilting his head back to look up at the night sky. "She’s never texting me again. No chance. She probably thinks I talk about myself too much, and to be fair, she’d be right."

By the time he got home, he had convinced himself she wasn’t going to text him again. He flopped onto his bed with a groan, already bracing for the ghosting.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Y/N: Last night was fun. You free this weekend?

Chris blinked at the screen. He hadn’t ruined it? A grin stretched across his face as he quickly typed back.

Chris: Definitely. Let me know when.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad at this dating thing as he thought.

[sramoonlight]

What do you fight for?

What if the batfam had their own spidey?

Content you’ll see here: Batfam, neutral!reader, subtle crossover, weird romcom.

English it’s not my first language so please be patient.

The night felt weird as you looked at the street on an unknown roof, Tim puts down a bag of hamburgers next to you

Everything happened so fast, you had to find a new hide spot and now you’re just there trying to find an answer, multiverse and time travel, you didn’t think it could be together maybe in a sci-fiction novel but never in the reality.

You see how he starts eating as you took your cup of soda lifting your mask to take a sip of it, and you sighed

— Are you still thinking about it? — He asked chewing his food as he looked at you

— It’s just… I can’t seem to understand it — you said, looking at the streets

Everyone look so small below you, and you still can’t find comfort on being in the top of the world, it feels like thinking about what happens after death but without the existential crisis

Tim looked at you before handing your hamburger, you took it taking a bite of it

You’ve known him as the work addict, the one who choose to not sleep until he gets the answer he wants but now he’s inviting you to take a break

— If you keep thinking about it you’re not going to find anything —

You hummed in response, chewing the hamburger as you thought about it, probably you’re going to find an answer once your mind colds down

Still, why someone like Kingpin would want something from the crime lord Black mask? Maybe about a doctor, he usually looks for scientist to do what he pleases but this is certainly something else.

— Ugh, motherfucker — You looked how Tim mumbled something taking his phone to type something, you moved falling into his shoulder peeking out at his phone

“Kon”

— Who’s that? — You asked, Tim turned off his phone before you could see their text, probably he’s too shy to even admit it — A comrade of mine —

Weirdly, his phone started to blow with new texts that you couldn’t see because he moved his phone away so you couldn’t see it

Like the person he was talking to could hear him.

You bite your cheek thinking about it, well, probably it wasn’t nothing and just a hero comrade who likes to talk, oh you really want to know more heroes

— Go back to the manor, I’ll be patrolling — He said and you didn’t notice when he had finished his dinner, he eats so quick that makes you wonder if it’s because you have a small mouth

Whatever, you smiled getting up as you did your best to finish the hamburger in one bite

Wow, you don’t have what it takes to devour it without feeling full

— Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow Tim McGraw —

— Tim what? —

Before he could protest you shot your web leaving the roof

He had to google that name after that, but doesn’t matter.

After a few swings you made it back home entering through the window of your room, it’s past 1 am and you still wonder how could Tim find a fast food restaurant open, probably because he is a rich boy, probably not

You looked at your reflection on the mirror, the cut on your arm is only visible through the little lump on your suit, the bandages are sure a problem but you’re happy that you don’t look as a broke plushie

Speaking of which, you’re surprised that Tim fixed your suit, it doesn’t look like it was ripped just hours ago

— He sure did that thing were you can’t see the seams —

You remember the way your mother used to do it, you sitting on the floor as she sat on the couch sewing your suit hearing how you punched some bad person on the face

The memory makes you look at your hands, a clumsy seam where your mother first fixed it, she didn’t know how to do it properly but she tried anyway

She was the first person you told about the spidey thing, the first second you receive your powers you were yapping about it

You miss her so much

You close your hand sitting on the floor, that hand moved close to your chest like it could make you feel her arms around you again

What should I do?

A silent whisper, only the walls could hear you talking to yourself, or maybe to someone who you can’t longer see

— We’ll be fine, mom —

The day you didn’t wanted to happen is today, you looked at the mirror not liking the way your body feels at the color black, you never thought about using this type of clothes just to visit your mom

But you had to do it, your father did his best to bring your mother’s body so you could do a funeral for her

You took a deep breath, fixing your hair you walked to the living room where your father was waiting for you, your other siblings chose to not go with you or maybe they were too busy to attend, still, they send you all their support

Except Damian, he just looked at you.

Your father walked with you to the car where you sat on the passenger seat, he sure looks good on a suit, the press is going to talk about how stunning he looked even at a funeral

You can see how he’s holding the steering wheel tightly, not because he’s heartbroken for loosing his lover of course not, he and your mother were just a one-night thing

He doesn’t know what to say, you understand it, nothing prepares you to go with your own blood to see a woman you just met once

— She.. was someone very smart — he said after a seconds, you looked at his eyes and he was looking at yours — I know she’ll be happy to see the person you’ll become —

You looked down, where your hands were and you caressed your wrist feeling the web shooters behind your sleeves

Now that she’s gone, the pressure about being the best version of you feels bigger

— I just want to be what she wanted me to be — you whispered and then he held your hand making you look up at him

He smiled, that smile was the one of someone who lost his parents too

It’s weird knowing that in some way he understands you, maybe at a way no one else could but that’s because he’s your dad, you have to be alike in a thing right?

— Dad.. — It doesn’t feel weird to say it

You held back his hand, smiling softly

Your mother send you with him, she knows you’ll be just fine by his side

You arrived at the building, your father left the car opening the door for you and he offered his arm to you

That was his way to show you that you won’t be alone, without second thought you took it

Flash

All the cameras where pointing at you, making you blind for a few seconds before you could walk properly

Your dad didn’t looked like he bothered, like he’s used to feeling that kind of attention

Slow walk as you approached the coffin, it is closed and you had to guess that it was because of how bad her body looked

How were her last moments? What did she felt? Was she scared?

You let go your father’s hand touching the coffin, the feeling of knowing that your mom is behind all that wood is killing you

You can’t see her, you know that if you do you’ll be crying in seconds wishing that this is a joke

— Hi mom — You whispered, kneeling in front of the coffin, your forehead moved to press against it like you used to do with her whenever you faced a tough villain

The feeling that you made it back home safely, but now the one who didnt was your mother

— Im home, mom — that words burned your heart, already feeling that you were about to cry you moved standing up to see your father

He looked at the coffin, a blank expression on his face not knowing what to do

— I never thought of seeing you like this again, Catherine — you heard him mumbling but you didn’t cared

Taking a deep breath you wiped the stray tears on your eyes, you can’t cry in front of her or she’ll feel bad for leaving you behind

Your father and you moved away from the coffin, like a puppy you followed him as he greeted the guests

You recognize them as you mother’s co-workers, you still wonder how they managed to made it to Gotham, if you were them you wouldn’t do that much of a trip

Then, your eyes spotted someone

Kingpin, he approached you, not your father

— Im very sorry — He said, you looked at how his wife stands by his side holding his arm

— There’s no need, sir — you said lifting your head to see him, that man had the most sad eyes like he understands your pain

But he doesn’t.

— Your mother was a very loyal employee, we’ll miss her presence — your body tensed as he moved his hand to cup your face, since you were little you’re used to see him

If you didn’t knew how bad he could be, you would relax against his palm like you used to do when you were six, you know this man has a thing for kids and knowing that he saw you grow up just makes this conversation even worse

— If you ever need anything, I’ll be just a call away, I’m sure I can make it up for you — once he moved away you could feel how your whole body relaxed

He walks away, talking to the other guest and you touched your cheek

Before this incident, seeing him felt weird because he beats you whenever you step against him, but you managed to not show it

But this is too much, knowing that whatever he did this time took your mother away from you

— You don’t seem happy to see him — your father said looking at you with a little smile

Did he notice you were uncomfortable? Wow, you’re sure you hide it pretty well

— It just doesn’t feel good knowing my mom died on his building — you chuckled trying to move the pressure on your hand to the side

Bruce didn’t looked convince but he hugged you by your shoulders pushing you close

— you don’t need to see him again if you don’t want — that words only makes you lay your head on his shoulder mumbling a quick thank you

You don’t think this day could get worse.

You were back at the manor scrolling through your phone, Bruce went back to his job before dropping you at home

The pics of you at the funeral are filling the internet, everyone wondering about where you were all this time just makes you wonder even more what life does your siblings have

Being this publicly, not even being Spidey makes you feel this.. abused? No one cares about what you’re feeling, they care about what happened seventeen years ago when your parents meet, you thought about it before but you just washed it away thinking that it didn’t matter

That was your parents private life after all, you sighed before feeling someone knocking at your head

Wait what?

— I have a clue — Tim relays on the couch looking at you with wide eyes, you know he wouldn’t bother you today if it wasn’t something useful — The thing is.. that happened at metropolis and I just know someone who could help us get information —

You raised and eyebrow turning to see him, you can see how he looks irritated to the thought of saying this to you

— I need you at our spot at eleven o’clock —

With that you knew he wants to meet at the place you met the night before, you see how he leaves with an apple on his hand probably to his room

But you don’t remember him having a room on the first floor, whatever

You need to get ready for that.

Back on your spider suit you waited for Tim at your spot, the moon is up and you can feel how the cold breeze is getting on your nerves

You need to add a coat to your suit or you’ll freeze, how could Gotham nights be this cold?

— You arrived first, what a surprise — Tim appears from an alley on his Red Robin suit, he does feels like he’s been on a rush

Where his duties as a vigilante? You don’t understand how can they be this busy even if they’re almost five at this city

Before you could think more, someone floats down

Floats?

You see how a man, one with a jacket and a very punk style looks at you through his black glasses

On the night? Geez he’s sure something else, your mother would say he’s a spoiled brat who only thinks about looking good

— He’s.. —

— Superboy but you sweetie? You can call me whatever you want — he winked at you causing you to chuckle

You can see how Tim looked pissed at this, Superboy moved to hold your hand moving it to his lips

Before he could do that, Tim stepped holding you by your shoulders and moving you away from the teenager

— He.. is someone from metropolis, he heard Kingpin on the city — You looked confused at his words now facing the man

You crossed your arms facing him with a smile even if it was hiding behind your mask

— May I know how you heard him? — you tilted your head in a defying voice

He chuckled moving to be close to your face, was he floating to be taller than you? You had to bite your cheek to keep you from bursting on laughs

— Well, I have a big good ear and I know when someone isn’t from my city —

He faced you, his glasses are even more down that you saw before and you can tell that he putted them down to see your face better

Even if it was behind a mask, he seemed curious to see you

— May I know your name now, hun? — that’s it, you laughed

Your arms more to your back approaching him with joy, he jumped back not expecting you to fight back

— Does the suit gave you a hint? —

— Only that you need to be- —

You heard Tim shout as he stepped between you, him hugging you by your shoulders with a flustered face and even if he had his domino mask on you could see how furious he was

Was this.. that thing about jealous brothers? You suppress a chuckle before going on work now

— Okay, jokes aside, what did you find? — You asked, now fully interested in whatever is going on

Superboy gets on the ground looking at you with a bore face, probably he didn’t like being pushed away without ending his game

Anyways, Tim clears his throat letting you go as he takes a more relaxed pose

— He seemed to look for Lex Luthor help but he denied to do anything like that, I mean, he was about to convince him but he didn’t give him what he wanted — he explained now his hands on his pockets

You analyze his words, of course King ping wouldn’t want to give something very fancy just in exchange of a favor, and that makes you wonder even more

Does the project need that much of people to be done? What is he planning?

You thought multiverse and time travel was enough to trap someone on King ping’s hands, but you had to admit, he doesn’t own nothing Lex Luthor would want.

— My theory is, whatever Kingpin is doing isn’t something safe — Tim said expressing your words

But can’t be, you pressed your hand on your chin

— That can’t be, King ping would never do something so risky he could loose his life or his family — you said, knowing what is in King ping’s heart

He would fight gods if he had to, only to keep his family safe

You opened your eyes as wide as you could

— Woah! Their mask moves too — you didn’t quite heard what Superboy said.

— He does this for his family — looking at Tim he seemed to think about it he looks confused to even admit it

For him, it looks like a weird thing, why would you build a time Machine so you could do something for your family? Nothing bad happened

— I don’t see your point — He mumbled, of course he doesn’t understand

Because he doesn’t see what you see

— there’s two things that makes me think this, first he’s a person who doesn’t do things without a plan B and… he talked to me at my mother’s funeral — You mumbled the last part

It was weird to tell them about the “im a call away” situation but now that you think about it, Fisk isn’t the type of man who would give you empty promises, not knowing that no amount of money could make it up for you, he knows what you might crave

— He.. saw something, something he needs to know to avoid — you said and Tim snapped his fingers

How could he with gloves?

— that’s why they called it time travel and not something else, they’ll just see not anything else — with Tim’s words you heard how Superboy groaned a “Huh?” Not quite understanding what you’re talking about

Let’s organize this

Kingpin isn’t building something that could make him go to another universe and take things, he wants to see what could happen and use that information for a plan B, like if in one universe he gets a divorce, he could see every universe until he founds the reason and how to act against it

That’s why Lex Luthor didn’t liked his idea, is interesting but not for someone who wants to have control but for Black mask? He can keep his crime empire

— But he won’t give up, an alliance with Lex could help him more than with Black mask — Superboy said, after understanding what you two meant, well.. actually Tim explained it to him while you organized your ideas but that doesn’t matter

Now the three knows what is happening

You sighed, he was right and that just pisses you off

— We can’t see what he’s doing at Metropolis and still managed to stop their actions at Gotham —

— And you’re still not counting New York —

The three of you hummed trying to find an answer, the only one that comes to your mind is stopping him from doing an alliance with Lex Luthor and then stopping his alliance with Black mask

— We can’t leave Gotham, I can’t just put my life aside — Tim said with a tired face, for a person who also goes some work at Wayne enterprises it’s too much

And you can’t risk leaving your life aside, Bruce would notice you skipping classes and if he does he would ask about it and you’re terrible at lying, he could discover your secret identity

— Ugh, if I could only travel to metropolis in seconds, I could just disappear for a few minutes — you thought out loud and Superboy smirked

A thing Tim hates him too do

— I can help you with that! I fly so quick that you won’t see me coming, just ring me and I’ll be there — he hugs you by your shoulders pulling you closer

You had to see Tim who looked even more pissed off than before, he’s clearly not enjoying this

— I can do that —

— No you can’t! And if we are going to be a team I need to know my little bug more, don’t I? —

Little bug? Your eyes made a confusion look, one eye bigger than the other you don’t seem to understand the new nickname, you’re not a bug.

Still, you looked at Tim who ruffled his own hair in desperation

— Okay! Okay! But I swear to god Superboy, if you do something to them I’ll put so much kryptonite in your underwear you’ll be puking your organs out — you bite your cheek holding out a laugh

Superboy groaned laying on your shoulder in a dramatic way, something Tim didn’t liked at all

— You care too much, you can’t tell me you’re keeping this cutie for yourself — he shakes your body as he tried to make a point

The only thought about it makes you smile behind your mask, oh if he knew

— Ew! Don’t ever think about it, they’re my sibling —

You three froze, you blinked moving to see Superboy who had a blank expression

All the color on his face just disappeared and you had to look at Tim who looked even more pale than Superboy, that assures you that he does know Red Robin’s secret identity and knowing that

He knows yours.

Superboy turned to see you, in a moment he holds your cheeks coming closer to your face

— Are you (Reader) Wayne?! — he shouted with a surprised face, you didn’t think he could do such an expression like that.

He held you even closer trying to see through your mask eyes but before he continued Tim got him by the collar pulling him away

— Don’t act too surprised, I know you were thinking about it already —

You could see how they started an argument, they sure are like cats and dogs but that just makes it cute

You looked at your hand, the bad seam felt like it was speaking to you

How could Kingpin would “make it up” for you? He can’t bring your mother back, what sort of information can make you feel better? The question keeps haunting you before you saw how Tim pressed the comm on his ear moving a steps away

A minute later he comes back

— I need to go, would you go back home? —

— I can take them to Metropolis! They need to know where they’re patrolling the next days —

Tim looked at him ready to start another fight but you moved to face Superboy, a determinate expression on your face

— Can we go now? — You asked, Superboy looked at Tim before lifting you on his arm

You can already hear Tim asking Superboy to put you down, but he didn’t, instead he starts floating ready to go

— I’ll be back before the sun goes up, don’t worry —

And with that, both of you disappeared from the place, Tim is looking where you both were just a second ago

He sure is going to kill Conner.

You two arrived at a roof where he let’s you down, your intuition tells you you’re in front of one of Lex Luthor’s buildings

Maybe that was the place where Kingpin and him met, a good place to start actually, Superboy wasn’t actually a dumb person

— So, I have a question to ask you —

— No, I don’t shoot webs from my butt — You responded in automatic holding your chin like it would make you adjust your eyes to see even more.

Superboy laughed like he didn’t want to hide it, and that makes you wonder if it wasn’t his question

— Good to know but really — he moved closer to you, now both of you looking at the building

When did he take off his glasses? Weird

— What do you fight for? — and the question makes you lost interest on the building, now you saw him with wide eyes

You’re not sure about the answer, no one ever asked you that, I mean, Tim asked you why are you doing this but not what do you fight for

It sounds similar, but for you it is completely different

You looked down, trying to find an answer, but your brain can’t come with one, you do know that is something you need to do because no one at New York had the power to do it

But that was what your mother told you, kinda dumb, you feel like a kid on a medical appointment asking your mother to tell the doctor where it hurts but seriously

— I don’t know — You whispered, maybe you could say that it was the right thing to do but that doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer

And you can’t just say that your mother told you to do it because it doesn’t feel like a right reason to fight for.

Superboy hummed, making sure you knew he heard you

— Well, let’s find out — he hugged you by the shoulders, god what does everyone has with hugging you like that?

You don’t mind, it actually makes you feel warm enough to not shiver

— What? — You asked turning to see him, he smiled at you before moving away to poke your nose

Did he floated to do it? Not like he needed it anyways

— A reason to fight for — and it only makes you smile

Your heart feels too warm and you can tell it is because you’re happy

Though, it didn’t last long because you shivered because of the cold, before you could complain Superboy puts his jacket on your shoulders

You looked at him asking silently but he isn’t looking at you anymore, his attention now centered on the building in front of him

Without saying a word, you put it on and a smell of wood makes you wonder if he leaves in a farm

But just like he filled your heart with warmth, he made sure your body was warm too, what a gentleman.

— By the way, the name is Conner — Oh my god, how could you forget about asking him that?

[rylem33]

Making the most of it

Jason heard the door open and close. His girlfriend, Katie, had been gone for five days on a girl’s trip with her friends.  Five days of barely any calls and only a couple of texts.  He was really excited to see her.

“Honey, I’m home!” Katie called.

Jason stepped into the living room and was greeted by an unexpected sight.

Katie was standing by the door, adjusting the hem of a tiny white mini dress that barely covered her toned hips. The one-shoulder cut showed off her tanned skin, and the curve of her stomach was visible beneath the thin fabric. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, silky and straight.

She looked… hot.

“Jesus, Katie…” Jason exasperated. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Katie smiled and ran her hand through her hair, arching her back slightly so the dress lifted higher on her thighs. “What, this?” She did a playful spin, flashing him a glimpse of toned thigh and the curve of her ass. “Just something I picked up on the trip.”

“You went to the airport dressed like that?”

Katie giggled and bit her lip. “Relax, babe. I threw on a hoodie over it. I’m not a complete exhibitionist.”

“Katie… what the hell happened on that trip?”

She shrugged, stepping toward him, the sound of her gold heels clicking on the floor. “It was just a little girl’s trip. Nothing crazy happened.”

“Katie, do you see yourself?” He gestured toward her outfit. “This isn’t you.”

Katie rolled her eyes and brushed past him, tossing her white designer purse onto the counter. “Stop being so dramatic.”

Jason’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm gently but firmly. “Katie… did you catch something?”

“What are you talking about?”

Jason looked at his girlfriend, sighed and stated. “The slut flu.”

Katie froze for half a second before she laughed. “Oh my God. Are you serious?”

Jason didn’t smile. “Katie…”

She pulled her arm away and turned toward him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Jason stepped in front of her. “Then tell me what happened.”

Katie sighed, stepping even closer so her chest was nearly touching his. Her nails trailed lightly down his chest. “Okay, fine. If it’ll make you feel better…”

Jason nodded. “It will. Please start from the beginning.”

Katie flashed a bright smile at her boyfriend. “Alright…we flew into Miami last Wednesday. Me, Kelly, Amber, and Jess. Got checked into the resort, unpacked, and then hit the pool for some cocktails.”

“And?”

Katie leaned against the counter, adjusting the hem of her dress higher up her thigh. “Totally innocent. Just hanging out, lounging in the sun. A couple of guys started chatting us up. College guys, I think.”

Jason nodded. “What kind of chatting?”

Katie continued. “Just talking, babe. We brushed them off. Nothing happened. Then we had a couple of drinks, took some selfies, and went to bed early.”

“Okay… that doesn’t sound too bad. What happened next?”

Katie giggled and stretched her arms over her head, the motion lifting her dress even higher. “The next day we hit the pool again. The same guys from the day before were there. Kelly started flirting with one of them.”

He stared intently. “Define ‘flirting.’”

Katie smirked. “She was letting him rub sunscreen on her back. Then she took off her bikini top and had him ‘help’ apply it.”

“That’s more than flirting, Katie.”

Katie giggled and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Relax. It was harmless.”

“Did you do anything?”

Katie smiled innocently. “No.”

She traced the edge of her upper lip with her tongue. “Day three is when things started to get interesting.”

“How interesting?”

Katie rubbed her hand over her right breast and gave a soft moan. “Kelly was basically hanging off that guy’s lap by the pool. She let him take her into the hot tub.”

“And you?” Jason pressed.

“Well, they asked if I wanted to join them in the hot tub…” Katie stated.

“And did you?”

Katie giggled and tilted her head. “I mean, I couldn’t just let Kelly have all the fun.”

Jason looked horrified. “Katie…”

“Relax, babe. I kept my bikini on.”

Jason continued to look at his girlfriend incredulously. “But they were touching you?”

Katie closed her eyes as if remembering the moment. “Mmm-hmm. His hands were big. Strong.”

Jason’s voice became more serious. “Did it… go further?”

Katie snapped out of her reverie. “No, not that night.”

Jason swallowed hard. “Jesus.”

Katie leaned closer, her lips grazing his ear. “But by day four…”

Jason’s heart was hammering now. “Katie…”

Katie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Amber was making out with two guys at once in the hot tub. Jess was already half-naked. Kelly disappeared with the guy she’d been with since day one.”

“And you?”

Katie smiled. “Well…I was really horny and you were so far away.  So, I figured, why fight it?”

Jason stammered. “You… you hooked up with him?”

Katie nodded. “Yeah.”

Jason’s face twisted. “Oh my God.”

Katie closed her eyes again and licked her lips. “He took me back to his room. Kissed me up against the wall. Tore my bikini off.”

Katie’s voice dropped lower, her hands sliding down her hips, caressing her own body as she stepped toward him. “Then his friend showed up.”

Jason went pale.

Katie’s hand trailed down Jason’s chest, her nails grazing lightly through his shirt. “And then the other girls showed up.”

Jason went wide eyed. “You… you had an orgy?”

Katie’s smile widened. “Uh-huh.” Katie giggled and stepped toward him, pressing her body against his chest. Her lips brushed his ear. “We all had some fun.”

Jason took a deep breath, steeling himself.. “Katie… you caught the slut flu. Again.”

Katie’s hand slipped lower, her palm flattening against his chest. “Mmm, yeah… I think I did.”

Katie’s tongue traced the edge of her upper lip. “Want details?”

 “Katie…”

She smiled and slid her hand lower, fingers curling at the waistband of his jeans. “Let’s see… Kelly was the first one to really go for it.” Her nails dragged along his stomach. “She pulled off that guy’s swim trunks right there in the hot tub.”

Jason’s cock grew hard.. “Wha..”

Katie pressed her finger to his lips, cutting him off. “Shhh… I’m not done.”

Her eyes darkened as she leaned closer, her breath hot against his neck. “Kelly started stroking him. Right in front of everyone. His friend was sitting next to me, and he leaned over and whispered in my ear…he asked if I wanted to taste him.”

Jason whispered. “And you…?”

Katie smiled and nodded. “I got down on my knees right there on the edge of the hot tub.”

Katie’s hand slipped under his shirt, nails trailing over his stomach. “Kelly was already sucking one of the guys. Jess was next to me, rubbing herself while she watched us.”

Jason closed his eyes.

Katie slid her hand lower, grasping his dick. “Mmm, it gets better.”

Katie slowly stroked up and down. Her breath was hot against his ear. “Amber climbed onto one of the guys and started riding him. No shame. Moaning loud enough for the whole pool deck to hear.”

Katie’s lips brushed against his ear. “Then Jess started kissing me. Her hands were all over my body. Her mouth was so soft…”

Jason opened his eyes, giving Katie an odd look. “You kissed Jess?”

Katie giggled. “A lot more than that.”

“You’re joking.”

Katie shook her head, her smile dripping with sin. “We were making out. Grinding against each other while the guys watched. Kelly was right next to us, sitting on a guy’s face.”

Katie removed her hand from his cock and leaned back, her hands sliding down her own body. “Then Kelly reached over and started touching me too.” She closed her eyes as her hand slipped beneath her skirt. “I spread my legs and let her.”

Katie gasped as she rubbed herself. “She slid her fingers inside me while Jess was kissing my neck.”

Her words became staggered as she worked her fingers in and out. “Amber was screaming while one of the guys was fucking her from behind. Jess started going down on me while Kelly held my legs open.”

Jason gently grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him.

Katie laughed and followed him, pressing her body against his. “Mmm, I wasn’t the only one getting off. Jess got down between Kelly’s legs next, and I helped hold her open.”

Jason kissed her, brief but passionate. “You… you were holding her while Jess…?”

Katie’s lips curled. “Mmm-hmm. Then one of the guys bent me over the edge of the bed.”

Katie crouched down and started pulled down Jason’s pants. “And he fucked me while Jess was licking me.”

She released his cock and licked her lips. Then Katie giggled. “Kelly was next to me, getting fucked by two of the guys at once. Jess was moaning into me while her tongue was working me over.”

She started removing her top. “You wanted to know what happened, babe.”

Jason stared at his girlfriend’s body. “And… and you all just…”

“Yeah. We all took turns. Kelly rode one of them while I was bent over the side of the bed. Jess was so into it. She came while I was grinding against her face.”

She removed her skirt. “And you know what the best part was?”

“What?”

Katie leaned in close, her lips brushing his ear. “I’ve never come that hard in my life.”

Katie pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor.. “And now… I’m kind of worked up again.”

She removed the rest of her clothes and took a couple of steps back, letting him stare at her. “Come on, babe. Don’t be shy.”

Jason smiled. “I love it when you catch the slut flu.”

She nodded and  purred. “Might as well make the most of it.”

Jason smiled as she pulled him towards the bedroom.

[joaosnovia]

OMG we need a part 3 of the Gavi x tennis reader fic

❦ - love && war 3.

summary:: winning isn’t everything. whether it’s on or off the pitch and that’s something you’ve realised.

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: guys i wanna sob this is really basic, repetitive and idk what to do for the plot but if yg want a part 4 i can do one where he ACTUALLY attends a match bc bros suffering by hearing the match from pedris pov 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @nngkay @cherryloveshs

the first thing you did after leaving the court was check your phone. sweat still clung to your skin, muscles aching from the three set battle you had just fought, but none of that mattered as much as the missed notifications lighting up your screen.

pablo: been refreshing the score like crazy, how did it go?
pablo: mi amor?
pablo: please tell me you won
pablo: shit, did you lose?
pablo: call me as soon as you can, okay?

your heart sank a little as you read his texts. you hated how badly he wanted to be there, how helpless he felt watching the live score update from miles away.

you sighed, quickly typing back.

you: lost in three. close, but not enough.

he read the message almost instantly. the typing bubbles appeared, then stopped. then appeared again.

your phone rang.

you stepped away from the locker room, walking into a quieter hallway before answering.

‘cariño,’ gavi’s voice was soft, but you could hear the frustration underneath. ‘tell me what happened.’

you leaned against the wall, exhaling. ‘she just played better. i had chances, but i didn’t take them. that’s it.’

‘that’s not it,’ he muttered. ‘i know you. i know you’re beating yourself up over every point.’

you closed your eyes for a moment. he wasn’t wrong.

‘i just, i really wanted this one, pablo. and i know i played well, but at the end of the day, i lost. and that’s all anyone will remember.’

‘that’s not true,’ he said instantly. ‘you were amazing. i didn’t even have to watch the match to know that. but it pisses me off that i couldn’t watch. i should’ve been there.’

‘pablo—’

‘i mean it,’ he cut you off, frustration creeping into his voice. ‘pedri was literally sitting on his ass watching the whole thing while i was stuck playing a match i barely cared about because all i wanted to do was check my phone for updates.’

you let out a small laugh despite yourself. ‘you barely cared about a la liga match?’

‘yes,’ he huffed. ‘well, okay, maybe not barely. but you get what i mean.’

you did. you really did.

‘you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you,’ he continued. ‘at halftime, i grabbed my phone the second i got to the locker room. hansi was giving a whole speech and i wasn’t even listening, i just kept refreshing the score.’

‘pablo, oh my god.’

‘no, listen to this,’ he went on. ‘i had to hide my phone under my shirt when he started walking around because i refused to put it down. i literally thought i was gonna get subbed off for being distracted.’

you bit your lip, torn between being exasperated and incredibly touched.

‘you’re crazy.’

‘for you? yeah, i am,’ he admitted without hesitation. ‘i hate missing your matches. and i swear i’ll be at the next one, even if i have to fight hansi for it.’

you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. ‘i appreciate the commitment, but i don’t think hansi would take too kindly to that.’

‘too bad. he’ll have to deal with it,’ gavi muttered.

there was a beat of silence before he spoke again, softer this time.

‘you know how proud i am of you, right?’

you swallowed.

‘even if you didn’t win, even if you think it wasn’t enough, you’re incredible. i hope you know that.’

your throat tightened slightly. he always knew exactly what to say.

‘thank you,’ you murmured. ‘really. that means a lot.’

‘i mean it,’ he said. ‘and when i see you, i’m gonna hug you so tight you’ll forget all about today.’

you laughed lightly. ‘looking forward to it.’

‘good. now go rest, okay? we’ll talk later.’

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. ‘okay. love you.’

‘love you more, mi amor.’

and just like that, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

[violettwritess]

Lie to girls c.s

Summary: When Chris starts to change drastically, would you keep lying to yourself or would you finally let go?

Warnings: none, I think

Wc: 1.4k

English is not my first language

The phone rang once, twice, and still, no answer.

Y/n stared at the screen, her grip tightening as worry starter to creep into her chest, Chris always texted when he was running late. Even if he was out with the guys, he’d send a quick “be home soon” or “love you”. But tonight? Nothing. Her stomach twisted, he wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who disappeared without a word, not until now.

She called again.

Voicemail.

Something wasn’t right.

Her mind raced with possibilities. Maybe his phone had died. Maybe he lost track of time. Maybe-

Her heart dropped.

Matt’s story.

She didn’t even think twice before clicking on it. The screen lit up with flashing lights, music, and people pressed together in a blur of movement.

And then she saw him.

Chris. Drink in hand, laughing, leaning just a little too close to her.

Her stomach churned.

So that’s why he didn’t pick up.

The way he was looking at the girl, it was the way he used to look at Y/n. It was that easy charm, the kind of glance that said I could have you if I wanted to.

And maybe he did.

Without another thought, she grabbed her keys.

~

The party was loud, packed, suffocating. She pushed past strangers, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t even know what she was going to say when she found him, she just knew she had to.

And then, there he was.

Chris.

He was close to the girl, closer than he should be, talking low into her ear. The girl laughed, tilting her head back, her fingers grazing his arm.

Y/n felt like she was going to be sick.

It wasn’t just harmless flirting. It was the kind of moment that would’ve made her sick if she were on the outside looking in. And now, she was.

His gaze finally landed on her, and for a second, just a second, his face fell. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by something calm, unreadable.

“Hey, babe, what are you doing here?”

Too casual. Too smooth. Like nothing was wrong. She almost laughed. It came out hollow.

“Funny that you ask that, what are you doing here,didn’t think you were coming out tonight”

Chris sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It was last minute. The guys dragged me out”

Lie.

“Right. And her?”

Y/n nodded toward the girl, who suddenly wouldn’t meet her eyes, Chris frowned.

“She’s just a friend”

“Don’t lie to me, I saw the way you were touching her”

His jaw clenched.

“Y/n, don’t do this here”

“Do what?” Her voice wavered, but she didn’t back down.

“How do you h expect me to be calm when I just saw you all over another girl”

“I told you, there’s nothing going on I swear on my mother”

“Don’t, don’t you dare, Chris” She met his gaze, and this time, he looked away first. “You don’t have to lie to me, do you think I’m stupid?”

Silence.

It was deafening.

Chris didn’t speak, he didn’t because he knew what was really going on, and he didn’t know how to face it. He just stared at her, lips parted like maybe he wanted to fix this, like maybe he could, but she already knew he wouldn’t.

“Whatever”

She turns on her heels and walks away, until he grabs her arm.

“Please, let’s talk about it, let’s go home”

And maybe, just maybe, she was stupid, but Not for suspecting him, not for seeing the truth. But for trusting him.

~

The drive home was suffocating.

“You’re overreacting, we were just talking” Chris muttered, gripping the steering wheel.

“Am I?” Y/N’s voice was quieter now, the anger fading into something worse, defeat. “Oh, I didn’t know friends grabbed each other like that”

He scoffed. “That’s not fair”

“Neither is making me feel like I’m crazy when I know I’m not”

He didn’t respond.

She stared out the window, watching streetlights blur past, blinking hard against the sting behind her eyes.

“You used to make me feel so special” she whispered. “Now I just feel stupid”

Chris exhaled sharply, his hands tightening on the wheel.

“You’re not stupid, I swear it was just an accident, it won’t happen again”

She looked at him, silently doubting if she should believe him

“Promise?”

“I promise, I love you”

It was that easy, she fell for it and forgave him.

And the worst part?

She didn’t know it was only the first sign.

~

As the days passed, Chris became more distant, he was barely paying attention to her, he was more frequently staying out late without telling her, and his only excuse was that he forgot and it won’t happen again.

But it did happen, many times again.

The cold facts were obvious, but she didn’t want to believe them.

But the truth had a way of making itself known, no matter how tightly she tried to shut her eyes.

~

One night, she woke up to an empty bed. The sheets beside her were cold, untouched. She stared at the ceiling, willing herself not to check her phone. If she checked and there was nothing, no text, no missed call, it would only make it worse.

Seconds passed. Minutes.

Nothing.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and sat up. Maybe he was just out with Matt. Maybe he lost track of time again. But she didn’t believe that anymore.

She opened Instagram before she could stop herself. Matt’s stories were blank, but another name caught her eye, one she never would’ve noticed before.

The girl from the party.

Her pulse hammered as she clicked on it.

A dimly lit room. Laughter in the background. The sound of a deep voice, his voice. The camera panned, shaky and unsteady, but she saw enough.

Chris.

Sitting next to her.

Too close.

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She forced herself to breathe, to think. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was reading too much into it.

But deep down, she knew better.

She gripped her phone so tightly her fingers ached, she tried to stop them but the tears just started rolling down her cheeks before she could even register what was happening. She curled up in the bed, trying to think of something else, but she couldn’t, the only image in her mind was him, with her, and that was making her lose her mind.

~

Hours later, she was on the couch watching a movie, trying to distract her mind out of things when Chris finally came home, he barely looked at her as he kicked off his shoes, but when he turned, he looked at her confused.

“You’re up late” he mumbled.

She stared at him, waiting. Waiting for the lie.

Waiting for him to prove, once and for all, that she wasn’t crazy.

“You didn’t answer my calls”

Her voice was steady, even though everything inside her was unraveling.

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My phone died”

Lie.

Her fingers curled into fists. “Where were you?”

“Out with Matt”

Lie.

She let out a slow breath, nodding. “Right. And her?”

He froze for a second. It was quick, but she caught it. Then, he shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw the video, Chris.” Her voice cracked, but she held firm. “Yes you don’t have to lie to me, I try to believe you but… it hurts me even more”

Silence.

“Now I’m just lying to myself, you make me sad, Chris, you make me sad and you make me cry”

And there it was, the moment of truth.

She saw it in his face. The flicker of panic, the way his lips parted like he wanted to say something, to fix this.

But he didn’t.

Because he couldn’t.

Y/N stood up, her heart pounding. “I can’t do this anymore”

Chris stepped forward, reaching for her. “Babe, please, I-”

She stepped back.

“No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to lie to my face and expect me to be okay with it, I don’t want this”

“Y/n-”

“I wanted to believe you” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I wanted to trust you. But you’ve been making me feel crazy for weeks when I wasn’t. I saw the signs. I just didn’t want to admit it, so yeah, I’m stupid, but I’m clever enough to know that I don’t belong here anymore”

She stood up, putting on her shoes.

“Where are you going” he asks, panic now obvious in his tone

“Out with Matt, it’s your decision whether you believe me, or not”

Before he could even answer, she left slamming the door shut, and the worst part? Chris didn’t even bother to follow her, turns out he didn’t care, and she really was stupid after all.

[applecour]

Drain You ✩ 秦且歌 / xavier…

18+ / suggestive content. office au, boss!reader, bratty sub reader, petnames (Boss, Master, Sir, good boy / girl); mentions of fingering & brat taming, no intercourse

“Hm, okay, this manuscript passes. Send this, along with my notes, to the printing department by when it finishes photocopying.”

You hand the thick text back without glancing away from your computer screen to Xavier who sighs in relief, “Thank you so much, Miss, I will.”

“Thank the fucking gods, we can finally go home,” Rafayel whines to you, his body slumping against the back of your chair and draping over your figure, “If you rejected that damn manuscript one more time, I was going to kill you and then myself.”

“Well, then why don’t I make it up to everyone?” You smiled, pulling the company black card out from your purse, “Free drinks for everyone’s hard work!”

“Boss…” Rafayel tears up, “I’ll never curse you out behind your back again.”

At only age 26, you’ve made quite the name for yourself— the Cruel Master of Infold Manhua House who turned your unruly department from a lost cause to one of the top 3 in the entire company. And that’s saying a lot, considering that the department you oversee produces content of a very niche and controversial genre…

Said genre being erotica.

From ecchi one-shots, to softcore short stories, to full on nasty and sinful visual novellas— not a single project starts or finishes without being approved by you. And you didn’t get the moniker Cruel Master by being easy to please and work with.

“Xavier,” you call sternly as you see him return to his cubicle, “We’re all going out to drink— you’re coming, too, right?”

He doesn’t really drink and you know that. He would rather go home and you know that. But you would rather have him come anyways. He softly rubs his nape as he contemplates his options: say no and get immediately persuaded by your pretty words, or say yes and just get on with it. “Uh, yes, of course, Miss,”

You smile, standing up from your chair and brush your hand against his shoulder as you walk pass him, “Good boy.”

✩ !

“God-damn it, Boss, how can yuh hold yur liquor so wehll?” Rafayel slurs as picks his head up from the table to give you a vicious glare.

“‘m just better than you,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at the drunken man who gives you a lovely gesture in return (it’s his middle finger).

Your eyes shift to your left to look at Xavier sitting at another table, solemnly sipping on his borderline empty soda bottle, and he looks as out of place as you’re sure he feels right now. As the newbie on the team, Xavier’s still so unsure of what he can and what he should do. It doesn’t help that he can always feel your eyes burning into his skull and watching his every move, judging and scrutinizing every single detail about him and his existence.

Well, that’s what he thinks, anyways— the reality is you like him much more than he thinks… like a lot more. And it’s definitely not the type of ‘like’ that is in a work appropriate way.

No, in fact, you want to fuck his brains out. That’s why you can’t help but tease and test him so much.

“Ahh, Xavi,” you croon softly as you sit dangerously close to him on the bench, giggling as you see a blush blooms across his ears as you rub your cheek against his shoulder, “‘m soo drunk.”

“Shall I take you home, then, Miss?”

You nod, handing him your keys, your hand touching his for much longer than necessary. “You remember my address, right?”

Of course he does. There have been countless nights in the past eight months where he has to call for a taxi at 2 am to rush to your apartment because, as the newbie, he’s been tasked to deliver a last minute manuscript change for your approval or the like. This isn’t even the first time he’s driven you home from a work event like this.

The ride is silent but not awkward. You’re not really drunk, maybe the tiniest bit tipsy, but you pretend to fall asleep anyways to spare Xavier’s social battery. You try not to ruin the facade as you feel the car stop but you definitely let out a squeak of surprise after you hear Xavier open your side’s door and feel his arm wrap around your waist and upper thighs.

He’s so strong— shockingly strong— and he carries you as if you weigh nothing. After typing in the passcode to your apartment, he softly sets you down against your fluffy duvet and gently slips your heels off your feet.

You expect him to turn to leave but he surprises you again by caressing your cheek with the tips of his fingers, “Boss, you look so sweet and defenseless when you sleep,” he mumbles as his fingers move lower to rub against your plump lips, “You have no idea just what I want to do to—”

That’s when you decide you’re done with this lame ruse and your tongue darts from your mouth to lick the pads of his finger which causes him to abruptly pull back his hand in shock but you grab his arm and bring his hand back to your mouth to softly bite the side of his palm.

“So, what exactly do you want to do?” You laugh, sucking seductively on his index finger, “Do you want to kiss me? Touch me? Maybe—”

Your words are cut short as his opposite hand pulls roughly on your hair, forcing you to bear your throat and look him in the eyes, “No, I want to do much worse than that. I want to ruin you. I want to punish you and put you in your place. I want to make you beg for mercy. And I know that’s what you want, too.”

He leans down, licking the shell of your left ear, “Boss, I’ve seen the books you keep in your office; the ones where brats like you get fucked into submissive. I’ve seen the way you can barely control your facial expressions when you proofread an issue of manhua where the protagonist gets tied up and is left to the mercy of their lover.”

Your brows furrow, “That’s—”

“What? That’s not what I think it is? Then what about what I saw when you were ‘editing’ the Eve manuscript in your office last week?”

Fuck. Your face begins to heat up at the mention of that incident. It’s not your fault, really, that you get pent up sometimes (between work and everyday survival, how can you make time to get laid?!) and that manuscript really made you feel something— between your legs, that is.

How could you not get hot and bothered when that chapter was a visualization of your deepest fantasies? A scenario where the head-strong main lead was mind-fucked by her highschool crush who had also been in love with her for years after he finds her stash of depraved manga; to be exposed at your most vulnerable and imperfect form and still be desired, let alone adored by someone you love deeply back, was all you’ve ever wanted.

It’s not even like you anything crazy in the office either— fingering yourself a little bit in the privacy of your office isn’t that crazy… you didn’t even get to cum regardless because Xavier happen to barge into your office with a stack of paper that needed your signature or something else.

He had been standing at your door for about five minutes before he decided to actually open it because he couldn’t take his eyes off of you and your reactions. He couldn’t see exactly what your hand was doing underneath your desk, but with the way you couldn’t stop biting your lip and squirming in your chair, he can make an assumption. He would’ve let you finish— there’s nothing more he wanted to see in the world— but lunch was almost over and the thought of anyone else seeing you in that state made his blood boil.

“That’s right, Boss, I know what someone like you needs, so why don’t you be a good girl and let me take care of you, hm?” He utters against the column of your neck as he presses kisses against your skin which have you whimpering in response.

He takes your hand in his and guides it to the growing bulge in his trousers, forcing your hand to squeeze and rub against his erection. Fuck, he’s huge. You pull you hand back and try to lean back away from his body, “S-stop it, I’m drunk—”

“No, you’re not.” He declares, pushing you back softly to lie flat on the mattress. Xavier’s hands stroke your legs up and down before he tugs on your tights making a small run in the fabric near your upper thigh. “You have better alcohol tolerance than anyone I know, so stop making excuses. Do you want me to fuck you as much I want to fuck you? If you say no, I’ll leave and we can pretend this never happened; I can go back to playing as your obedient subordinate and you can be my domineering master. But, if you say yes…”

His hand slips under your pencil skirt, the heel of his palm stopping right above your clit, the pressure and weight so light it almost feels like nothing but it makes your leg twitch nonetheless, “I can show good it’ll feel to be mine.”

“Sir, p-please,” you whisper, lifting your hips to rub your clit against his palm harder, “make me yours— I want to be yours.”

“See? You do know how to be a good girl.”

star banner by @/enchanthings … i lost inspo on dis 💔💔

[flys-writing-drabbles]

“Some call it stalking, I say walking just extremely close behind.” /lyr

(mentions of stalking/being watched, blood, slight violence/jon gets punched, and angst. tim cries near the end.)

He could feel the eyes that watched him from just beyond his line of sight. He could sense them lying in the shadows, burrowing into his skin much like the worms that had done the same just a few months ago.

Not a very fun memory to relive.

He huffed out a breath, fumbling to pull out the cash he had brought with him from his pocket.

“Just a latte, please. Nothing special.”

The cashier seemed thankful for his simple order, slipping out an overly cheery “Right away, sir!” in that tell-tale voice of someone who’s been in customer service for too long.

He just needed the caffeine. He’d forgotten to take his Adderall this morning and he was hoping he could blame the sensation of being watched on that.

As if being off his meds made any difference in that regard.

He knew it didn’t. He knew the eyes were actually there, hidden in some back alley or shop across the street. Monitoring him.

A shiver wracked through his body just as the cashier called out his order, earning him a concerned look from the poor woman.

“Are you alright, sir?” She sounded sweet, around his age. He could weasel out of this if he turned up the charm enough.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. I’m doing dandy, really, work’s just been hectic.” He spared a glance at her name tag before speaking up again.

Y’know what? He’s earned some small talk with a normal, sane person.

“Allison, is it? Lovely name.” It was nice, honestly, being able to watch her flush at such a simple compliment. Something real and human.

So mundane.

“Ah— Thank you, sir! I’m glad you’re doing alright. Believe I haven’t caught your name?”

“Timothy. Though, you can call me Tim.” He fell into a lean against the counter in one swift movement, adding a wink for extra flavor.

A laugh. God, it was nice to hear a genuine laugh again.

“Wonderful to meet you, Tim. Hey, how ‘bout this-” Allison produced a pen from her pocket, picked up the latte that lay between the two, and scribbled something on the label.

It was a number. Her number. Cool.

“Keep in touch, yeah? Maybe we can get together outside of work at some point.”

He allowed himself a smirk and a chuckle as he picked up the coffee, taking a sip. It was pretty good for a random café.

“If this-” He held the cup up for emphasis. “Is only the start of what you have to offer? I’ll hold you to that.”

That got her to laugh again as she crossed her arms to prop herself against the counter.

“I’ll text you later then. Have a good day, Tim.” Her smile was warm and bright, though, he couldn’t help but note what seemed to be dirt smuged along her cheek. Had that been there the whole time?

He blinked rapidly, shifting his focus to her eyes instead. Hazel with flecks of gold shimmering here and there. Beautiful.

“You too, Allie.” Maybe using a nickname on a girl he just met wasn’t the best decision, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Turning his attention away from that conversation brought back the feeling of being watched almost immediately. It was sudden. Fast and a little overwhelming.

It made his skin crawl, made his head swim, prickled just underneath the surface of his very being like a hornet’s nest had replaced his soul.

In short, it pissed him off.

It was a sharp, unbridled anger that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with aside from find the source of it.

Thankfully, he knew just where to search.

Pushing past the entrance of the café was, as expected, easy, it wasn’t like someone was standing guard. He did pause halfway when he heard something, however.

A bell. The kind usually placed above doors to signal when someone was entering or exiting and this particular one sounded from across the street. From the shop that sat opposite the cafe, much to Tim’s convenience.

His gaze fell upon who had left, sifting through the crowd to locate salt-and-pepper locks cascading down bony shoulders.

What he didn’t expect was Jon looking right back at him, staring at him with those brown eyes of his. Trying oh-so hard to be mysterious.

Then he was gone, weaving through people, clearly trying to get away from Tim as fast as he could physically manage. Which was much faster than he gave the man credit for.

He stormed after him, elbowing people out of the way without so much as a ‘sorry.’ A part of his mind hoped Allison wasn’t watching so she didn’t see him as a jerk.

He shocked himself with how well he was staying on Jon’s trail, never more than a few feet behind the man. Always keeping him in his line of sight.

It didn’t take too long to have Jon cornered. Apparently, amidst all his stalking escapades, he’d forgotten to plan an escape route in case he was caught.

It was such a painfully Jon thing to do, getting cocky and refusing to plan for vey real risks.

Nevertheless, it landed him backed into an alleyway, bag clutched close like it was viable as a shield.

He was breathing fast. Tim could see that much, the man’s chest rising and falling in rapid succession. His eyes even darted around fearfully as Tim closed in on him.

It was oddly thrilling. A strange sort of pleasure coming from having his boss in this situation, cowering in fear because of him.

He could unpack that later. At the moment—

He moved before he had a chance to think it through, grabbing onto Jon’s collar and hoisting him into the air a few inches. This left him roughly eye-level with Tim.

“Hey, boss. Having fun people-watching?”

Jon stuttered for a second, struggling to find his words, scrambling to fit them together into some believable excuse.

“Tim, this is— Purely a coincidence. How was I to know you were in that café?” Tim hated that. He hated how even now Jon was trying so hard to sound professional.

It was bullshit.

“Oh, ‘coincidence,’ is that you’re calling this now? Some bizzare fucking accident?”

“Well—” He cut him off before he could get a word in, tightening his grip on the other’s shirt collar. Jon gave a sharp gasp in reply.

“Right, it just so happened that you were in the shop across the street at the very same time I was in that café. It just so happened that you left at the exact same time I did and it just so happened that you booked it the moment I saw you. Crazy how that works out!”

“Tim, please—” God, was that annoying to hear. Begging for him to listen like he hasn’t already. He knows. He fucking knows and he doesn’t need Jon to spout about it again.

He clamps a hand over Jon’s mouth, pressing down and earning a muffled sound of distress in response. But it finally shut him up.

He finally quit talking.

“Shut it. Okay? I know. ‘I can’t trust you Tim. I can’t trust anyone.’ Sure, fine, I don’t need your trust. But continuing to stalk me?”

That same anger spewed forward once more, tugging on his mind, bubbling forth with a million words he couldn’t say.

He just needed to get them out somehow. They poked at him, sharp, oh-so sharp, sending his thoughts racing. A pop here, a snap there, a crackle right behind his eye—

Then he found his hand retreating from Jon’s mouth, the indent of canines and molars right in the center of his palm, his fingers curling inward, his arm pulling back and the blathering of the man he held falling upon deaf ears.

Crack.

Such a simple, powerful sound. It reverberated around the alleyway, accompanied by a thud as Jon was dropped to the floor.

His knuckles felt warm. He knew why, he just didn’t bother to check. He chose to stare down at the other instead.

Crumpled up against the back wall sat Jon, holding his bleeding nose which dripped onto his hands and down his wrists, whimpering. Another dangerous smile crossed Tim’s face.

It felt good for a few seconds, just like he had expected it too. Freeing him of those pinpricks of rage that had nowhere else to go, giving them a purpose.

Then it twisted into guilt as clarity struck him. He’d just punched Jon, his boss and former friend, likely breaking his nose in the process.

He wiped the back of his hand on his cheek, smearing blood on his face in the process, but whatever. He can always clean up later.

Kneeling down in front of Jon felt wrong. Of course it felt wrong, but it was necessary.

At least, he thought it was.

“Got anything to say, boss?” His words were harsh. Grating and attempting to stab through the tension that hung thick in the air.

Jon swallowed, audibly gulping, still holding his broken nose and trying to ease the bleeding. He shook his head twice.

Then his hand was underneath Jon’s chin, prying fingers out of his way and tilting it upwards. He made sure to angle it just so. Made sure to keep the other staring at him.

“This look suits you, y’know? Really fits that ‘poor tortured soul’ act you keep up.”

“It’s— It’s not an act,” A sharp intake of breath cut through the middle of that sentence. “I’m scared, Tim.”

“Oh? Scared, are you? That all? Couldn’t sleep well at night knowing I was living happily until you started—” His free hand gestured at the entirety of Jon as the other tightened it’s grip on his chin. “Doing this?”

“I’m making sure I— I’m making sure, Tim.”

All he got in reply was a scoff.

“How much longer then?” Tim wasn’t looking him in the eyes anymore, staring at the ground with a different kind of intensity he was trying to shield from Jon.

“Wh— What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. How much longer? How long before you finally call all of this off? Admit your faults and, I don’t know, actually do your job?”

A breath left him, quiet and unsteady.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, breaking the momentary silence like a pebble breaks the surface of a lake. “I don’t know.”

His chin was released, it was allowed to lull down to his chest, he was allowed to let his bleeding nose stain everything it could reach.

“Right. Of course. You—” Tim was still taking a knee, arms crossed over his chest idly. He spoke with a slight strain in his voice.

“You piss me off, y’know that, boss?”

Jon sighed, fisting a hand into his hair and tugging. He was already in pain, why not add some more into the mix?

The sharp pressure on his scalp paired with the dull, but ever insistent, ache from his broken nose was enough to make him cry. His vision blurred with tears.

“I know.” His voice cracked.

Why was he acting like this? It’s not like he actually cared. It’s not like he was particularly occupied with his emotions at the moment.

So why was he sitting there crying in front of Tim of all people?

A huff of a laugh came from Tim, nearly silent in the alleyway. Hardly audible if not for the close distance between the two.

“For fucksake— Leave, Jon. I’m giving you a chance to scram. Figured I was being obvious, but, no, for all your fucking knowledge you seem to really struggle with basic hints.”

There was a hand in front of his face, he realized. It was covered in his own blood, smudged and red, but it held steady.

He grabbed onto it, choosing to ignore the sick feeling of dread twisting in his chest for once. He needed to focus on what he had with him for once. Not what might happen.

“Why are you letting me go, Tim?” His tongue felt heavy as he spoke, thick and ladden with something beyond his comprehension. He swallowed with the effort.

Tim fought for a second, struggling to just keep the words in his fucking mouth.

“I still care— About you. In spite of all this bullshit, you still— You still matter and it’s not fair. Why can’t I just—” He growled in frustration, mad at himself for letting that go.

“I hate that a part of me still worries over you just as much as Martin does. A part of me still sees you as a friend. A part of me is dedicated to caring and looking after my stalker boss.”

And with that? Tim shut up, biting his lip.

To be fair, it left Jon stunned as well, standing there wringing his hands together. His eyes were wide and— Wait, were they green?

They were. Just for a split second before flashing back to that brown that seemed near golden in the single stream of lamp light that fell into the alleyway.

Beautiful, a part of his brain supplied. A confession he would take to his grave.

“Tim, I—”

“Save it.” He hissed more than said, laced with venom and traces of despair.

Jon simply sputtered for a moment. Confused, dazed, losing a lot of blood, and, above all, curious. He was fucking curious.

“Tim?” He was quiet. He knew that the moment the name left his mouth, hesitant and hushed.

The other didn’t reply if he heard him. He didn’t want to and he sure as hell didn’t need his mouth to betray him again.

“Thank you for— Just thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Leave.” There was more force behind it this time. Not a suggestion anymore, simply a command that Jon was expected to follow.

With a nod Jon grabbed his stuff, swallowing the spit that had collected in his throat. He used his free hand to wipe his nose of the blood that had dried by now.

Tim had moved off to the side, leaning against the wall of the alley, looking at the ground like it would swallow him if he just stared hard enough.

Jon decided it was best to stay as far away from him as he could as he took his leave. So he did just that. Carefully sliding past him, keeping his head ducked.

“Ah, wait, Jon?” He froze, glancing over his shoulder with fear written all of his face.

“Can you toss me the tape recorder from that bag of yours?” Tape— He hadn’t brought a tape recorder with him. Not this time at least.

He checked his backpack regardless and, sure enough, there sat that ominous little device. It whirred proudly, listening to everything.

“I didn’t— I didn’t bring this.”

“Mhm. Sure. Hand it here then. I’ll take it.” Who was he to argue with Tim anymore? The man had already proved his point. Either he gives him the tape or he gets hurt.

Another sigh.

He lifted the recorder out of his bag, handing it to Tim from where he stood. He didn’t step any closer and didn’t move any further away. He moved slow like one would when approaching a stray animal.

“Thanks.” Was all that Tim said as he snapped the device from Jon’s hand, turning it over in his own before shutting it off.

“I’ll— I’ll see you later, Tim. At work. Just at work from now on, I— I promise.”

He got yet another scoff in reply. Almost like that was the only response Tim could physically muster up, not even gracing that man with his words anymore.

Jon understood why. He wasn’t about to press any further on Tim. He knew the man wasn’t out for him. At least, not in the way he had originally thought.

His curiosity just got the best of him sometimes. An urge to know more by whatever means possible.

Then he left. After standing there, gazing at Tim for what felt like forever, he finally zipped up his backpack and left. Hardly looking back at all.

“Finally.” Was all Tim found himself saying under his breath, nearly as quiet as Jon had been.

Then tears began to fall, streaming down his cheeks all to suddenly. And it burned.

For some reason, they hurt.

It’s not like it was Jon he was crying over, God, no, if he ever went that far he might just lose any respect he had left for himself.

No, it was a combination of things. Jon just happened to be the tipping point.

He always was nowadays.

He let himself slump back against the wall, let his body wrack out awful sobs and wails like he was nothing more than a teenager again. Crying over the newest thing that had overwhelmed him.

He wasn’t sad nor upset. In fact, he was pissed.

The hornet’s nest brought back, buzzing with life and thrumming behind his ribcage. The fireworks fizzed and popped, hissed and cracked. While all his body could do was choke and sniffle and scream.

It hurt.

It felt like he was housing a livewire just underneath his shirt, sparking against his flesh and branding him.

He tugged at his hair, trying to exert that energy anywhere he could reach. Anywhere that wasn’t inside of him.

He tugged and tugged and pulled and yanked, grasping strands and hurting his scalp.

Then his eyes fell on the tape recorder, noting how it was very much running now. He hadn’t turned it on. He hadn’t touched it since he had taken it from Jon.

“What do you want from me, huh?” He sounded insane. He probably looked insane to anyone walking by that just so happened to look into this alley.

“If it’s a statement or some other fucking— I’m not giving you anything.” His voice was far less confident than usual, rough around the edges and raw from tears.

“I’m not giving Jon anything. He doesn’t get anything from me anymore, alright? He made his choice and I’ve made mine.” It whirred on, insistent and noisy and bothersome.

He pushed himself up, walking over to where the device lay stationary. It was just a recorder, nothing special.

It didn’t take much thought for him to decide on stomping it into the curb, delighting in the crunch of plastic beneath his heel and grinning when the hum stopped.

Then he was alone.

No more observers, nothing else listening from nowhere. And it almost felt wrong.

It almost felt like he should call Jon back. Start up a conversation with an “Uhm, yeah, actually, please keep watching my house and me at all times, it feels wrong without it now. You know how it is.”

He shook that thought from his head rather quickly. He did not need Jon looming over him for the rest of his life nor did he want that.

What he needed was sleep. And he was bound to get that if Jon stuck to his ‘promise.’

He sweeped the scraps of the recorder off to the side with his foot, savoring the little feeling of victory he still had from destroying it. Then he turned heel and walked. Not quite sure where to, just letting his feet carry him.

Only one way to find out.

[lbhslefttiddie]

Luo Binghe leaned over the desk, examining the mess of ink and papers, scrolls from the library rolled out haphazardly across the edges of the desk, stacks of prose and poetry copied in Shen Yuan’s shaky handwriting. The topmost stacks were already a bit neater, with Shen Yuan staring with single-minded focus as he moved the brush, trying to imitate the graceful strokes of the original texts. His own work was a mess of ink, not even bothering to let the ink dry properly before he would throw new pages on top. He gripped the bowl of ink in his right hand, held close to his work, both hands stained with the stuff, and Luo Binghe could see smudged black hand prints on the sleeves of his dark robes, a smear of ink across one cheek.

He took a moment to marvel at the fact that, despite the mess on himself and his work, Shen Yuan somehow managed to keep the scrolls he was copying from getting dirty. The amazement was short-lived, though, quickly overtaken by notice of just how tired he looked.

[thatone-churro]

y’know just as soon as i start getting comfortable with the idea of being open/relying on my dad and him being more comfortable with my choices than i feared, i can essentially throw all that out the window with how vehemently he yelled at me at the thought of my getting my septum pierced (even though i never said i was yet. i said my side before i decide anything else). also making underhanded remarks of me never getting tattoos other than the one for my mom. like okay don’t ask me why i don’t tell you about anything or talk to you or anything. what the fuck.

[ofdustandashes]

Have to get this off my chest.

[sukunasweetheart]

Being the bane of sukunas existence as you're his girlfriend because you act like a perverted old man around him... he kinda digs it tho, its mildly hilarious and he doesn't dislike the unhinged attention (he tries to be so lowkey about it)

Every once in a while, you'll caress his behind or fondle his big boobily man breasts, the same way he does to you. he was only stunned at first - now he is completely unphased by your sneaky little hands.

he texts you, asking you what you want for dinner, and he's not surprised when the answer is "i want you oiled up and naked in bed by the time i get home". then he just replies with "making pasta"

Big obnoxious smacking noises when you kiss him all over, and sukuna just lets you be, he'll be sitting on the couch turning the tv on and here you come, smooching his cheek. sometimes, its the top of his head, other times, its his forehead or neck. if you do it too much though, you'll get covered with his bite marks in return.

when sukuna gets up to go to the toilet, you ask him if you can hold his peepee while he takes a piss, bc you saw a funny tiktok talking about it... he gives you a silent judgmental stare as he closes the door on your face. but behind it, he lets out the tiniest snort and shakes his head bc the idea of it is so ridiculous.

one time when you go outdoor camping with him you genuinely accidentally stumble close to sukuna who is taking a leak in the forest bush area and he catches you staring from behind as he's buttoning himself back up. and then he's chasing you down while you're screaming that it was an accident and that you only heard him peeing and didn't actually see anything. (not that you don't know what it looks like, anyway.)

when he's sweaty after a workout or some physical exertion, you'll definitely be approaching him deviously, talking about some "covered in flavour" type of bullshit... he'll push your face away and head into the shower but his ears are flushed with red.

just... sukuna who will let u mack on him endlessly bc he secretly doesn't hate the doting 🥹🥹🥹 and if you're not being obnoxiously lewd or affectionate?? thats when he knows something's up...

and obviously, every now and then you'll say something that makes him know that you're not just lusting over his body.

during a walk back home on a summer afternoon, you point upwards while holding his hand and looking up.

"sukuna, look. you're in the sky."

he reluctantly looks up, expecting some sort of dick shaped cloud or something like that. but there are no clouds in sight.

"what is there to look at?" he asks, quizzically.

"the colour, silly. when the sun's still setting, the sky always gets like this, around the same time everyday. the pretty pinkish colour, like your hair."

he turns silent and observes the sky for a minute. you call him silly, as if it's an everyday thing that you compare a person with the literal sky.

"it's my favourite time of the day..." you mumble, just barely audible to his ears. and something about the way you stand there, and speak so softly, makes you look so pretty to him. "i'll always think of you when the sun is setting."

"oh- but i think of you everyday regardless, i suppose."

he already knows that. he already knows you love him. why does he feel so flushed right now?

"alright, i get it. enough. let's continue home," he urges you, holding your hand tighter. you follow him down the street, like a puppy.

life couldn't feel more at peace right now, with your fingers interlocked with his, listening to you hum your favourite song on the way home, the street now covered with the orange light of the sunset.

"any ideas for dinner?" he asks, a few minutes after some silence.

"mmm..."

oh, he regrets asking the question now, fully knowing what's coming.

"i want your tatas in my mouth, please."

"tatas?" sukuna's asks with furrowed brows.

after bursting into laughter at the way he said it, you attempt to think up an actual food you want for dinner.

"...just for tonight." sukuna mutters.

"huh?"

"don't ask me again, i might change my mind."

"wait- really?"

let's just say, your mouth had a taste of heaven for the first time that night.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Giving the nerd a chance

tags: nerd!nanami/fem!reader, college!au, stsg, nsfw, dirty talk, asphyxiation, size kink, mdni!!

a/n: this one’s a long one :) pace yourself and enjoy!

Kento Nanami is a social enigma. He is a total outlier but in the weirdest way possible.

This man is conventionally attractive. Some would even go as far to say Nanami’s handsome, almost in a filthy way. His looks are sneaky too. He’s not someone you’d immediately notice in a room, but once you did…

You would notice his sculpted jaw line first. Then, his naturally high cheekbones that gave way to his soft hazel eyes. He had a serious look on his face always, but his eyes told a different story. Maybe you’d notice his blonde hair that sat neatly on his head, styled with an undercut. Yeah, Nanami was fucking hot.

But that’s not the weird part. No, you haven’t heard him utter a single word except to answer the professor’s unanswered questions once the silence was unbearable.

That’s not exactly weird either. There are tons of people who go through college without the intention of making friends… but Nanami has friends. He doesn’t just have like one friend. No, he’s apart of a friend group.

The weirdest part was he seemed to be close with the most popular guy in your university, star quarterback Satoru Gojo. Gojo was seemingly every college girl’s wet dream. He’s the type to stand out in a room. His looks and personality demand attention.

He’s the complete opposite from Nanami.

Then, there was Suguru Geto… Geto was also a strange friend for Nanami to have. Geto was smart, funny, and well-mannered… when he was in class. But you’ve seen how Geto acts at parties. He smokes cigarettes, shotguns whiskey, and keeps up with all of Gojo’s antics. Shoko was the exact same way, except she didn’t care enough to keep up with Gojo’s buffoonery.

They were the complete opposite from Nanami as well.

Yu Haibara was a cutie patootie. He’s also a sweet social butterfly. Another one of Nanami’s friends that just didn’t seem to be his type.

You caught yourself staring at the friend group as you’re sitting on a couch at a frat house. Your college team just won the game, so Satoru had invited a whole slew of people over. You somehow made it on that list. Your friend, Utahime, is begging you to leave, but something is telling you to stay.

“Go on without me, Uta. I’ll be fine, promise.” You say over the music as you flash her a small smile to assure her.

“I really, really, really don’t want to leave you here alone, yn. I don’t want you to end up on the front page of the news.”

“Don’t wish that shit upon me.” You laugh as you gently nudge her arm, urging her towards the door.

“I’m serious, yn. Please text me. If you’re not back in the dorm by midnight, I’m calling the cops.” She says as she grabs your shoulders, forcing you to face her directly.

You admire your friend’s caring demeanor, but she was being a total cock block for you right now.

“I will text you. I promise.” You assure her once again. “Go back to the dorm. Love you.”

She sighs deeply as she lets you go. She’s still not comfortable with the idea of leaving you here, but she can’t force you to leave. “Love you too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Oh, that’s all I’m gonna do.” You smirk as she flips you off and leaves the frat house.

You take a drink from your red solo cup to gather your nerves. Nanami has been sitting in the corner of the kitchen all night. He’s alone, but he doesn’t look lonely. Sometimes, Satoru will drunkenly slouch his weight onto the blonde and slur something inaudible to him. From what you can see, Nanami just rolls his eyes and shrugs his friend off his shoulders.

You want to approach him, but you’re still too afraid he won’t talk to you. As you sit down your cup, an intoxicated Satoru is standing over you.

“I’m sorry- I don’t remember your name.” He gives you a slanted smile as he crouches down a bit so you two are face-to-face.

“That’s okay. I don’t remember yours either.” You snip back with a small grin. Something sparkles in his eyes as you give him a little bit of a challenge. He finds it to be endearing.

“Cheeky. Give me your number.” He demands, keeping his smirk on his face.

“Why should I give it to you?”

“Because it’s not for me.” He slurs as he leans in close to you. He nods his head towards the kitchen. “I’m doing this for my pussy friend over there.”

Your eyes dart towards Nanami. His eyes are glaring holes into Satoru with more anger and emotion than you’ve ever seen from him. Your stomach swirls with butterflies.

“That is a really good reason.” You murmur as you quickly type your number into Satoru’s phone.

*** *** ***

It had been days since the frat party and not a single word from Nanami. Your excitement had honestly fizzled out into sulking. Were you not good enough for him? Did Satoru lie? Was it all a sick prank?

Not even Utahime could get you in a good mood.

“Yn. This is so ridiculous. If you like him that much, just go up and talk to him.” She chides

“Noooo.” You groan into your pillow as you turn onto your stomach in your bed. “He’s too cool. Out of my league.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Kento Nanami? The nerd who barely ever talks? The know-it-all in class?”

“Utahimeee.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Let me wallow in my self pity.” You gripe before you hear your phone buzz. The sound of your phone notifying you doesn’t even excite you anymore. It’s always some lame ass notification.

Unknown Number: Is this yn?

Your eyes widen as you stare at your phone in disbelief. Your body involuntarily sits up in bed, startling Utahime.

“Jesus Christ. What? What happened?”

“He texted me!” You beam proudly. You are embarrassing. Utahime scoffs and walks away from you, unable to take the second-hand embarrassment.

Yn: Yeah, that’s me :)

Unknown Number: This is Kento Nanami. I’m sorry Gojo felt the need to disturb you at the party. 

Yn: No need! He didn’t disturb me too much.

Nanami: That’s good to hear.

God. Now, what do you say? Of course Nanami is a dry texter. You stare at the text conversation for a while, trying to think of something.. anything to break the ice.

Yn: Did you ask him to get my number, or did he do that on his own volition?

Nanami: Gojo does things on his own volition.

Yn: Ah.. I see.

He left you on read.

Goddammit.

You had your chance, and now, you blew it. Sighing, you lock your phone and try to forget he even ever texted you in the first place.

*** *** ***

I mean, who even needs Nanami? He’s really not even that handsome or mysterious. You keep telling yourself as you get ready to go to another party Gojo invited you too.

Oh, also, Gojo kept your number for himself as well. He mostly asked to copy your notes when Nanami refused to let him copy his notes. He would also send the occasional invitation to one of his signature parties.

This one was apparently labeled as “exclusive”. You had no idea what that meant, but you weren’t allowed to bring a plus-one this time.

Luckily for you, Utahime was visiting back home for the weekend, so she couldn’t scold you for going out to another party this weekend.

Black eyeliner was smeared across your waterline, and you puckered your lips as you carefully applied some sheer gloss. You decided to be casual with your outfit, wearing a basic off-shoulder black top with some jeans.

As soon as you got to the frat house, you quickly understood what “exclusive” meant. It was only their closest friends in the house. Satoru and Haibara were on the couch, lounging. Suguru and Shoko were sitting by the window, sharing a cigarette. Nanami was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking as stoic as ever. Immediately, you were grateful for going with a more casual look.

“Yn! So glad you made it!” Satoru grinned in a more sober voice than the last time you spoke with him.

“Am I imposing on something?” You ask as you close the door.

“Of course not, silly. I sent you an invite for a reason.” Satoru says casually as he pats the spot between him and Haibara on the couch. “Come have a seat. Get comfortable. We’re just hanging out tonight.”

You stare at the seat between Gojo and Haibara, and you decide to sit in the open chair next to them instead.

“Afraid that we might bite?” Gojo grins as he leans over the arm of the chair towards you.

“Stop it, Satoru. You’re going to scare her away.” Shoko scolds before taking a drag off her cigarette.

Your phone gently buzzes in your pocket as Satoru and Shoko begin to bicker about his social skills. You sneakily check your phone.

Nanami: You look pretty tonight.

OH. We are so back, baby.

Yn: Thank you :) You look as handsome as ever.

Nanami: Oh yeah?

It is so small and insignificant, but that little “oh yeah?” makes your stomach flutter with excitement.

“Yn?” You snap your attention up to Shoko and realize she has been trying to talk to you.

“Shit- sorry. What’s up?”

Your phone lightly buzzes again, and you quickly glance down to check.

Nanami: You’re blushing.

“I was asking what your major is.” Shoko smiles calmly as she’s sat upon the windowsill. She flicks her cigarette outside before blowing out a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore how your heart is skipping beats right now.

“Oh, I’m just in general studies right now. I’m kind of indecisive. What about you?”

“I’m pre-med right now.” Shoko answers.

“I thought you swapped to nursing.” Haibara asks as he shifts his body to face her. The two start conversing together, giving you a chance to check your phone.

Nanami: Are you ill, or do my words just affect you that much?

Yn: I’m actually ill.

Nanami: You’re also apparently a liar, sweetheart.

How the fuck was this man so bold over text, but wouldn’t speak to hardly anyone in person?

Yn: Sweetheart? I didn’t know we were on that sort of level yet.

Nanami: Does that make you uncomfortable?

Yn: No

Nanami: Good. Then don’t complain.

The throb your cunt just did should’ve been illegal. There was no reason for you to be so turned on by that, but you were.

Yn: What would you have done had I said that it did make me uncomfortable?

Nanami: I would’ve found you a nickname you were more comfortable with.

He was being sweet, and you were over there clenching around nothing like a whore.

You had been so caught up in your phone that you didn’t realize Yu had went and gotten everyone a beer out of the fridge. You decide to risk a glance at Nanami. He looked calm and composed. You wondered if he even knew the effect he had on you truly.

“Shoko, when are you finally going to get some bitches?” Satoru asks with a laugh. Your eyes widen as you notice Suguru is on his lap now. You had really been so distracted by your phone…

“At this rate, I think Nanami will beat me.” Shoko laughed as she took a drink of her beer. You shift slightly in your seat as Shoko cuts her eyes towards you with a small grin.

Nanami: I will

Yn: Will what?

Nanami: I will beat her.

Yn: Confident or competitive?

Nanami: Both.

Yn: You didn’t strike me as the type.

Nanami: You don’t think I can do it?

Yn: I never said that.

Nanami lays his phone on his lap, and you can feel his eyes trailing up and down your body. Feeling your heart skip a beat, you decide to look up at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you glance over him. He looks relaxed. His head is propped up in his hand, and he’s almost giving you a lazy smile.

Knowing more about Nanami, you recognize it as a cocky smile now.

The rest of the “party” goes without a hitch. You decided it was time to leave once Suguru and Satoru were obnoxiously making out, Shoko was asleep on the floor, and Haibara wouldn’t shut the fuck up about the intricacies of anime.

“I’m gonna head back to my dorm now. Thanks for inviting me.” You say quickly as you stand from your seat.

“Hey yn-!” Satoru says as he tugs from Suguru’s lips. The dark-haired male made quick work of moving down to his neck. “Thanks for coming. You should come out here more often.”

“Oh um, I’ll think about it.” You smile politely as you head out the front door. The cold night air nips at your skin. The only light was from the moon high up in the sky. The dorms were a few blocks away.

You never like walking alone at night, but you try to remember that college campuses have security patrolling at all times. Taking a deep shaky breath, you step off the porch.

The sound of the door closing again immediately startles you. You quickly flinch and look towards the frat house. Nanami was calming walking up to you.

“Let me walk you back.” His voice was calm and steady, just like his presence. He really wasn’t phased at all by your subtle flirting earlier?

“Thanks.. I was actually kinda scared.” You mumble as you two walk side by side on the pavement. Your arms hug your body, trying to hide from the snippy air.

“Why didn’t you ask one of us to walk you home then?” Nanami asks as he slips his coat off from his shoulders. He then loosely drapes it over your shoulders. You feel your heart skip a beat as you mumble a quick thanks. Your body snuggled into his coat as it swallowed your frame whole. It was the first time you realized… Nanami is a big man. He’s not just some scrawny nerd. He’s actually pretty well built.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” You answer quietly, noticing how Nanami shoves his hands into his pockets while you two walk.

“That’s foolish. We invited you. The least we could do is make sure you make it home safely.”

“We?”

Nanami goes silent, and he looks away from your shorter self. The wind blows harshly, making the leaves crinkle and hiss on the trees.

“Yes, we.” He finally answers your question. You smile softly as you look down towards the ground. It seems like Satoru wasn’t the only one who wanted you around.

Standing in front of your dorm door, you slowly slip the coat off from around your shoulders and try to hand it back to him. “I don’t want it.” He answers calmly, making no effort to take the jacket back from you.

“It’s yours, silly.”

“And?”

“Take it.” You gestured the coat to him once more

“No, I want you to have it.” He says as he towers over you. You subconsciously take a step back to create space, and your back hits the door. He leans over you, having to angle his back to see eye-to-eye with you. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your cheek as he cocks his head towards your ear and neck. “Text me.” He murmurs lowly before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You were left against your door blushing madly as he casually sauntered away.

*** *** ***

You almost think you dreamt that kiss up come Monday morning. You hadn’t texted him all weekend, not even knowing what to say. You felt scared about messing things up and taking his advances the wrong way. He hadn’t reached out to you either.

You were sitting in Neurology, half-ass paying attention as the professor lectured about neuron pruning. Nanami sat a few rows over. He always appeared to he intently listening when you glance over at him. You perk up as you feel your phone buzz on your thigh.

Nanami: You’re not going to do well if you don’t pay attention.

Yn: I could say the same for you.

Nanami: Could you?

Yn: …. point taken

Nanami: You know, you could’ve at least texted me if you didn’t like the kiss.

Yn: Who said I didn’t?

Nanami: So, you disobey my request for fun?

Yn: Disobey is such a strong word. You told me to text you, and I just.. haven’t yet.

Nanami: We’ll come back to the disobedience topic. Why haven’t you texted me “yet”?

Yn: Nervous.

Nanami: You’re adorable. What’s there to be nervous about?

“Can anyone name an example of synaptic pruning?” The professor’s sudden loud voice catches you off guard. You hadn’t been paying attention at all, and you feel your heart start to race at the thought of being randomly called upon.

“Anyone?” The professor asks once again. “Yn-“ She almost says your first name before Nanami interrupts.

“Crown thinning.” He answers the question, saving you from total embarrassment.

“Very good. Thank you, Kento.” The professor praises as she turns back around to start lecturing from the powerpoint again.

Yn: You totally just saved me.

Nanami: Pay better attention.

Yn: Then stop texting me.

Nanami: No.

Nanami: Answer my question. Why were you nervous?

Yn: I just didn’t want to say the wrong things.

Nanami: You’re hopeless.

Yn: You’re starting to sound like Utahime :(

Nanami: Will you coo to me that you love me if I act like her?

You feel your heart start to race as you read his text over and over. He was way more observant than you gave him credit for. You couldn’t even think of a time where you told Uta that you loved her in front of him.

Yn: Is that what you want?

Nanami: That does sound nice. Though, I think I’d rather hear you breathlessly professing your love to me.

oh…

oh.

You sat your phone down. No way were you going to let some simple words over a screen let you get horny in class. You didn’t dare to glance in his direction as you suddenly decided to start paying attention and taking detailed notes on Neurology.

Nanami: You’re blushing again.

Damn him and his observant personality. Damn him and his filthy words that make you squeeze your thighs together to soothe the ache.

Yn: I’m well aware.

Nanami: It’s cute. Makes me want to say more things just to get a reaction out of you.

Yn: Please don’t

Nanami: Why? Scared you might like it?

Nanami: Scared you might like the thought of being beneath me, begging for more?

Jesus. There was no misinterpreting that. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you stared down at your phone, rereading his message over and over. It painted a picture in your brain.

Yn: As if you could make me do that.

Nanami: I can, and I will. Come over tonight.

Yn: To the frat house?

Nanami: No, to my room. I’ll tell Haibara to not come back until late.

Yn: That seems rather rude.

Nanami: It’s far better than the treatment you’ll be receiving later.

Your head feels like it’s spinning as the professor dismisses class. The rest of the day drags by painfully slow as you feel every little heartbeat and flutter in your chest. Nanami talked big game for someone who seemed too shy to really speak to you. It made you feel intrigued. How could he be so confident in his ability to make you beg?

You took your time once you were back at your dorm: going through your everything-shower routine. You wanted to make sure that every inch of you was soft and smooth just in case! It’s not like he’s actually going to make you do anything.

Knocking on his door, you feel your stomach churn with anxiety. You two seemed to be doing better at keeping up a conversation, but you were still deathly afraid of that awkward silence sinking in.

The click of the lock gains your attention, and Nanami opens the door for you. “Come in.” He says flatly, moving out of the way of the door so you can squeeze past him. He’s wearing his usual button-up shirt with black slacks on. How does this man even relax?

Of course his room is completely clean. His bed was even made military style for crying out loud. What the fuck does this man know about making women beg?

“Your room is nice.” You compliment, trying not to sound too awkward.

“It’s a room.” He shrugs nonchalantly before his eyes travel your body.

“How did you tell Haibara not to come home?” You ask, and he gives you a slightly puzzled look.

“I told him the truth.” He says as he loosens his tie from around his neck.

You swallow harshly as you watch his slender fingers pull at the fabric. His jaw is perfectly sculpted along with his neck, and his adams apple bobs as he steps towards you.

“Which is?” You reluctantly ask.

“I told him not to come home unless he planned on watching me fuck a pretty girl to tears.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you stare up at him with almost a frightened gaze. His movement feels much more predatory now as if he’s been watching you for a while, sizing you up. He had observed and stood by, waiting for the prime opportunity to pounce.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Nanami asks as he steps forward again. The back of your knees hits his bed, and his smile shifts to a lopsided grin.

“No. I just…” You had no idea what to even say to that! You weren’t use to a man so confidently bolstering about his skills without sounding like a total idiot. Nanami was a rarity. He could talk the talk and walk the walk.

“No. I just..” He mocks you. “You’re awfully nervous for someone I haven’t even touched yet.” His fingers gently caress over your collarbone, before he carefully nudged you back. You tipped over and found yourself sitting on his bed, looking up at him with big round eyes.

“Christ. Have you ever even done this before?” He asks as he leans over you. His hand press down on the mattress at both of your sides, effectively trapping you beneath him.

“Yes!” You exclaim with a huffy attitude that makes him chuckle. “Have you?” You ask, trying to even the score.

“No.” He responds before closing the distance between you two. His lips press against yours and move delicately. Your eyes widen before you realize what was going on, and you slowly melt into the kiss.

Lips smack together as he takes the lead on the kiss. His hands gently cup and caress their way down your body before resting upon your hips. His knee finds it’s way between your thighs, and he applies pressure to your core.

Stifling a small whine, you entangle your fingers through his blonde hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be. His kisses are growing more and more demanding as he’s pushing you back onto the bed more and more.

He gently bites at your lip, and he applies more pressure with his knee. As soon as you let another another small whimper, he slips his tongue into your mouth.

He’s taking complete and utter advantage over your body while you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact he said “no”. He’s claiming to have never done this before.

His thumbs dig into your hipbones before he makes you grind against his knee.

“That’s right. Use me.” He purrs lowly, encouraging for you to keep rolling your hips. Once you found a steady rhythm, rubbing yourself against his knee like a desperate slut, he releases your hips and grabs your wrists, pinning you down to the bed.

“Ken..” You gasp out lowly, and he immediately eats up your words, forcing his lips right back upon yours.

The grinding was slowly making you feel all dizzy in the head as you slowly start to mess up your rhythm. He immediately notices your messy state. His hands leave your wrists to grab back ahold of your thighs to make sure you don’t stop. If his slacks weren’t black, he was sure there would be a small damp spot on his leg from your delicious juices.

“Hah~” You gasp as you lean your head back.

“Does that feel good?” He questions lowly before carefully nipping at your neck.

“Yes… Yes, Kento.. more..”

“Oh, what was that, darling? I didn’t hear you.” He taunts as he bites his way down your neck.

“M-more!” You whimper out as you grow impatient.

“So greedy…” He murmurs before his sucks a small hickey on your neck all while he’s still making you grind your pitiful pussy against his thigh. “Beg.”

You feel that defiant nature wanting to kick in. You were needy for him, but you weren’t to the point of begging yet.

“Did you hear me? I said beg.” He demands as he forces you down on his leg harder. Your legs tremble around him as he’s making you rock hack and forth.

“Please-“ You finally choke out against your defiant nature. “I-I.. want more, please… I need you to.. to ruin me.”

“Ruin you, hm?” He asks as his hand carefully trails upwards to your neck. He applies just a bit of pressure. “A pretty girl like you asking for me to ruin her… How could I say no?”

He removes his leg from between your leg, and he quickly replaces it with his hand. His fingers rub firm circles around your clit through the cloth of your leggings. You immediately shudder from the new stimulation. You hold his gaze as he lightly chokes you.

“I think I want to see you come on my fingers first.” He says as he’s quick to shove your leggings and panties down. You gasp quietly as you look down at him. He shuffles himself down between your legs, and he has a determined look on his face. He was set on making you come with his hand.

You push your thighs together with a small whine as he gives your glistening cunt an amorous gaze. Nanami places his hands on both of your knees as he forces your legs back apart. “Now, you know why you came here. What are you running from?”

“I- … You’re looking at me like…” the words ‘like you want to eat me’ die upon your tongue. His aura is just so.. almost intimidating. Not in a scary way, just in a he’s-not-here-to-play way.

��You’re so pretty, but gods, you’re so confusing.” He shakes his head as he carefully drags his tongue up your slippery folds. “Just sit still and let me take care of you, darling.” He mumbles before he laps at your cunt again. He purses his lips and gently sucks on your clit. It almost feels like he’s making out with your pussy.

“Oh.. f-fuck..” You gasp as you lean your head back into his mattress. Your hands fist at the blanket beneath you, ruining his perfectly made bed.

Nanami continues to lick and suck. The sounds in the room were nothing short of erotic. The wet sounds of his lips and tongue smack and almost slurp at you. His hands hold your thighs up, practically wearing them as earmuffs as he eats you like a starved man.

His fingertip gently traced over your opening before he carefully slipped a finger in. He continued to lap at your cunt as his finger pumped in and out and prodded around.

“Oh my-! .. N-Nanami.. ah~” You pant out. In his eyes, your entire body was flushed. You were so subtly grinding yourself against his tongue. In his eyes, you were a goddess in touch with her sexuality and femininity. You just needed a small nudge to get there.

He adds a second finger, and he so carefully curls them upwards to gently press right on the spot that made you see stars.

Your hands abandoned the bed, and you grabbed onto his hair. His hazel eyes flutter up at you, and his glasses were pushed up onto his head.

Your orgasm was building quicker than it ever had before. “Nanami-! fuck, I’m gonna..” You try to warn, but he’s already a step ahead of you. His fingers start pumping a big more aggressively, and he’s pointed with his tongue, focusing all his attention on your clit. His tongue swirls in tight circles around the small bundle of nerves.

Your orgasm washes over you as you clench around his fingers, spasming on his face. He continues to thrust his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm on his face and hand. Pressing a few more small kisses to your overly sensitive cunt, he slowly pulls away. “Good girl.” He praises lowly.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you recover from the best orgasm you’ve ever received. Your eyes flutter open weakly to see Nanami ditch his glasses. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and chin dry.

He then places the fingers he so deliciously used to fuck you into his mouth, and he sucks them clean with a satisfied groan.

“You taste so sweet.” He mumbles as he slowly unbuttons his shirt. It falls to the floor as he starts to unbuckle his belt. You can already feel your arousal building up again as you see the absolute tent in his slacks. Of course the nerd was absolutely hung.

Without another word, his pants and boxers are on the ground. His dick stood hard at attention. It was too heavy to press all the way up towards his stomach. Speaking of stomach, he was absolutely fucking built. He had well-defined solid abs and a broad chest.

You watch carefully as he fists his length a few times. You admire the way the veins bulge from his hands and arms. He wastes no more time: climbing up on top of you. He guides your legs up onto his shoulders, and he leans forward, putting you in a mating press.

His hand suddenly covers your mouth. “Spit.” He orders bluntly.

“W-what-?”

“I didn’t stutter. Spit. Unless you want me to go in dry.”

The thought of that sounded like a nightmare, so you gathered as much saliva into your mouth as you could, and you spat into his hand.

He doesn’t look phased in the slightest as he lubes himself up with your spit. He lets out a soft breath as the wet sounds of him gliding his hand up and down his cock fill the room. He then wipes his hand off on the bed, and he covers your mouth tightly with his hand. “Try not to be too loud, darling. I don’t want anyone to come and bother us.”

He was so fucking confident that he was going to make you noisy. It almost pissed you off, but Nanami was a man of his word.

He aligned himself up with your entrance, and with one deep motion, he buried himself all the way to the hilt. You let out a silent scream into his hand, and your back arches up off the bed. His eyes darken as he lets out a guttural growl.

Your cunt was just too precious to him, squeezing him so perfectly. You were absolutely sopping wet and so goddamn warm. He actually had to bite his tongue to not come prematurely. Once he tasted the hint of metal in his mouth, the urge to finish subsided.

“Shhh, shh. Be a good girl. The pain will subside soon.” He assures you quietly as his hips gently rock back and forth shallowly.

“Mmmnnf~ K-kento!” You moan into his hand. He hates having to muffle your pretty noises, but he really can’t risk getting a noise complaint right now.

“That’s right, darling.. Take it..” His hips start to roll with a bit more conviction. His thrusts are slow but powerful. Each time he buried himself deep in you, you went all dizzy in the head.

“Oh fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” He praises as his other hand holds one of your thighs up for you. Your body is almost slack from how harsh his hips are snapping into you. His leaking tip was bruising your cervix with each brutal thrust.

Nanami wishes he could take a picture right now. Your eyes are all glossed over. Your face is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, and your lips are all puffy and slightly parted. Your babbling utter nonsense as your greedy pussy takes him in with each thrust.

“F-fuck..! So big.. can feel you right here~” You moan as you point towards your lower stomach.

Nanami looks to where you’re pointing, and as if this man needed anymore courage, he begins to fuck you harder.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Yeah? Y’feel me in your womb, darling?” He groans. Noise complaint can be damned. He lets your mouth go and grabs your hips as he continues to pound your pretty pussy.

Tears involuntarily spring into your eyes from the sheer intensity. When Nanami said he was going to fuck you to tears, you thought it was just a figure of speech. Nah, you were lying in his bed, crying because the dick was so good.

“Look at me.” He demands as he grabs your blushed cheek and forces you to look up at him. “This pussy’s mine from now on, understand me?”

“Y-yes!” You cry out to him. Your stomach starts to coil with white hot pleasure as your orgasm builds up again.

“Tell me you love me when you cum on my cock.” He demands lowly. You’re too fucked stupid to argue.

The bed squeaks and wails in agony as he his thrusts are growing more erratic and sloppy. You could feel him getting closer and closer to his release as he gets more vocal and noisier too.

Your eyes cross as you feel your body gyrate on him. Your second orgasm crashes over you so suddenly you didn’t even have time to warn him. Your soul nearly floats away from you as you feel warm juices flood out from you. “Fuck~.. I-.. I love you, Nanami!” You whimper out. In the heat of the moment, it does feel like love.

Such pure pretty words being uttered during such a lewd time. Nanami is instantly emptying himself into you. His dick throbs as he shoots ribbon after ribbon of cum inside of you. His hands are shaking as they hold onto your hips. “Ngh.. I love you, darling. Take it.. All of it. Don’t waste a drop.” He lowly growls.

The room is quiet as both of you pant softly. After a few moments, you realize you had professed a love to him that you weren’t even sure about. Yes, Nanami was attractive physically and mentally. Sure, he was apparently a god in bed, but love???

What if he wasn’t even being serious when he told you to say that? He probably didn’t even mean it when he said it back. What if you made things weird? Is that why he’s being so silent?

Nanami leans down and presses a small kiss to your forehead. “That was intense. Are you alright, darling?” He asks affectionately.

You nod weakly, not wanting to frustrate him with your insecure thinking style.

“Are you sure? I’m not only talking about physically.” He murmurs softly as he slowly allows for your thighs to slip down to around his hips. His hand carefully strokes your cheek.

“I told you I love you..” You murmur out quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He exhales softly in amusement. “You did do that. It was very sexy. Do you regret saying it?”

“I.. I don’t know.” You confess quietly. “You said it back too…”

“I did. Seeing your body in such a vulnerable state as you were trusting me with your very essence made me feel full with love.”

You look up at him as he just said the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t think I regret it.”

“I’m glad. I don’t regret it either.” He smiles and presses another small kiss to your temple.

*** *** ***

“Was that really your first time?” You giggle as the hot water coats your body. Nanami’s fingers are attentively massaging shampoo into your scalp.

“It really was.” He laughs quietly. “Why is it so hard to believe.”

“You were too good for a virgin.”

“I’m glad my darling thinks so.” He smiles and carefully leans your head back, so the water can rinse the shampoo from your hair.

“Where did you even learn that stuff from?” You ask curiously, wondering if Nanami just had a secret raging porn addiction.

“I have the horniest friend group. They don’t understand the concept of too much information.”

Ah. That makes sense.

tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog

[crossbackpoke-check]

Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)

art kid luke hughes