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sukirichi · 5 months ago

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WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn’t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you.

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him.

His head snaps in your direction.

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter.

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering.

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem.

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs.

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state.

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child.

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut.

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.”

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep.

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city.

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go.

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.”

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder.

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him.

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t.

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs.

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath.

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life.

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer. You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you.

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind.

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye.

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV.

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”

2K notes · View notes

gyuzgrl · 8 months ago

Text

don't be shy //csc//

summary- a variety show sparks feelings between you and your celebrity crush.

wc- 8k

You're ecstatic. Not even in your wildest dreams did you think you'd be invited to a reality show so early on in your career- especially not one as esteemed as 'one fine day'.

Having debuted only a few months ago, you had minimal expectations to begin with, but the overwhelming response from fans and your sudden rise to fame is still something you've yet to process.

It all happened so fast. Your debut stage was over in a wink and suddenly you were trending on twitter for your otherworldly visuals. Artists and idols you looked up to took to their sns accounts to praise you and your group for your talent and dedication- it was like a dream.

You never wanted to wake up.

That's how you found yourself here- in the middle of Thailand, surrounded by a bunch of loud idiots, sipping on some diet Coke as you hide under an umbrella.

You aren't sure what you expected when you received word that you were being invited to host and take part in the popular reality show- 'one fine day', with SEVENTEEN.

From what you'd heard, they had debuted just before you, and were doing just as well as you were. They seemed nice enough.

A sharp scream rips you from your thoughts, and you look up to see Dokyeom shooting across the sand, waving a pair of shorts in his hand, as a very angry short man chases him, wrapped in nothing but a beach towel.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and slump down against the sand.

This was going to be a long week.

"tired already?" Wonwoo asks, settling down beside you, "the members are... energetic-"

You grin, letting out a breathy laugh.

"yeah that's one way to say it"

"I'll have you know, by the end of the week you'll be a part of all this-"

"uhuh, we'll see" You shoot him a playful glare, only to have your jaw drop when you see something in the horizon.

Wonwoo follows your gaze and chuckles, shaking his head.

"I see you've spotted Sengcheollie Hyung"

"wh-what?"

"that's our leader"

The first day went by in the blink of an eye. You met all the members- except Sengcheol- and spoke to them for a while, getting to know each of them before shooting began.

You'd learnt from your conversations with each of them, that Seungcheol is as responsible, strong and warm, as he is gorgeous. Each one of the members looks up to him. From the youngest to the one's just as old as him, everyone leans on Seungcheol.

Not good.

How dare he be beautiful and dependable?

Your poor heart had already set its sights on him, and you hadn't even met the guy yet.

As you walk back to your hotel with the members and camera crew, you find yourself stealing glances at him every now and then. You tilt your eyes up once more, searching for him amidst the crowd, only to find him staring at you already.

Your eyes widen.

In an instant, you lower your gaze to the floor as you turn your head away. You've been caught.

Seungkwan chatters away next to you, talking about how exciting it is to host with you, but your mind is preoccupied.

Tentatively, you look back in Seungcheol's direction, and your eyes meet his. He shoots you a playful grin, eyes narrowing as you panic under his stare.

The air stills around you, growing heated, and you find yourself unable to look away. A deep blush bubbles up your cheeks, blood rushes to your head-

"...Noona?"

Seungkwan's voice snaps you from your trance, and you tear yourself from Seungcheol's grasp.

"yeah? what's- what's up?"

"you okay? you haven't said a word"

"I'm okay Kwannie, just a little nervous"

He blushes at the nickname, but in your distracted state, you fail to notice- just like how you didn't notice the way Wonwoo worked himself up to come talk to you, how Mingyu couldn't take his eyes off of you, how Chan stuck to your side all through lunch.

You were oblivious to the men around you.

All that mattered was Seungcheol.

Reaching the lounge, you wish everyone good night, and head off towards the elevator. The doors begin to close behind you, before a hand sticks its way through and coaxes them open, revealing none other than the man himself.

You grow still, unable to speak.

He waits as the doors close.

"I don't bite, y'know" he starts, his voice gentle as he leans against the wall opposite you, "did I scare you? I promise I'm not as scary as I look"

You lower your gaze in a futile attempt to hide your burning cheeks, and he sighs.

"I'm Seungcheol- I didn't get a chance to introduce myself, you uh- kept running away"

"y/n," you mumble, glancing up at him, "m'sorry about that"

He offers you a gentle smile, and you feel your heart twist painfully in your chest. The elevator stops on your floor, which coincidentally happens to be the same as his, and you scramble out, desperate to get some air.

In your haste, you lose your balance, and fall backwards, right into Seungcheol's strong arms. One hand supports your lower back, while the other grabs the back of your neck.

It's a simple touch, really. It's a hand Seungcheol extends out of courtesy, but god the electricity it sends rippling across your skin is undeniable. You know you shouldn't feel this way. You know- but it's so hard keeping your cool around him.

Its been a day. Just one. And you've already kissed your composure goodbye. What will a week do to you?

His lips curl up into a mischievous smile and he leans a tiny bit closer,

"think you can get to your room safely? I'd be more than happy to escort-"

"sh-shut up"

You straighten up, ignoring the raging blush on your cheeks, and stomp down the hallway to your room. He grins, trailing behind you to get to his own.

"oh we're neighbors," he muses, disappearing into his room as he calls out, "g'night".

Your heart thuds as you step into your room, back flush against the door, breathing hard.

The feeling of his hands on your body burns holes into your mind, and you find yourself replaying the scene over and over, while you unpack your suitcase, while you order room service, while you undress. You can't help but wonder how his hands would feel on your bare skin, can't control the way your mind wanders to how thick and beefy his arms are.

Thoughts of him plague you all night long, and you're certain the universe has it out for you when you hear him moving things around in his room, grunting with effort to pull heavy suitcases from one place to another.

The walls were thin.

This was going to be a difficult week for you.

The next day doesn't fare any better either, when you're told that everyone needed to assemble at the beach, dressed in swimwear.

You're devastated.

Breakfast gives you no respite when the man in question sits right opposite you, donning a pair of swimming trunks and a fitted black muscle tee.

As you try to focus on your cereal, he begins to speak.

"you slept okay?"

You peek up at him through your lashes and nod, before quickly breaking eye contact. There's a long silence, and you can feel him staring.

"y/n~" Mingyu calls, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he settles right next to you.

"hi hi," you greet, grinning up at him, "ready to hit the waves?"

"oh you bet baby,"

Seungcheol clears his throat, eyes dancing with a dangerous kind of fire, and Mingyu tenses, easing his arm off you. He mutters some lame excuse and disappears, leaving you alone.

With Seungcheol.

"how come you don't talk to me like that?"

"I- I just know the others bette-"

"bullshit," he interrupts, leaning into you, "you met us all yesterday- somehow the others have earned your affections and I haven't. have I lost to them already?"

Your eyes widen. Lost? What did he mean 'lost'?

"n-no it's just that I-"

Your hesitate, unable to formulate the right words. Saying the truth would reveal your feelings, lying would hurt his. How does one proceed in such situations?

"just what?" he urges, "tell me what I'm doing so wrong you can't even look me in the eye-"

The pained furrow of his brows makes your stomach twist. Your blatant avoidance, the way you didn't speak around him, how your eyes never met his for more than a second- he noticed it all.

You stay silent, now looking up at him helplessly. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I just- I don't know what I've done wrong"

You're about to say something, about to reassure him and tell him 'no- you're perfect, you've done nothing wrong', when Jeonghan pulls a chair up next to you.

"morning," he mumbles, a slight smirk playing at his lips.

"hey."

"morning."

"nice to see you finally getting along," he glances at the two of you before continuing, "see? I told you there was no need to be nervous about ddaddu-"

Your eyes widen.

"nervous?" Seungcheol looks at Jeonghan and then you.

"no! no, Jeonghan's just being funny- right Jeonghan?"

Both of them share a knowing glance before Jeonghan grins.

"uhuh I was just being silly, you know me ahaha"

You excuse yourself, shovelling the rest of your cereal in your mouth, before shuttling off down the hallway to the safety of your room.

What you fail to notice, however, is the half-amused-half-defeated look on Jeonghan's face. As you speed off, far far away, he turns to Seungcheol.

"there's something going on here, isn't there?"

"dunno what you're talkin' about"

"oh there's definitely something going on here"

Hours later, at the beach, you're cursing the gods. You failed to take into account how swimwear worked a little differently for men.

He was in swimming trunks. Swimming trunks and nothing else.

Heaven help you.

You tried your best to put on a brave face for the cameras, you really did, but god- it wasn't funny how tongue tied you got at the sight of him, how your face would grow so red your makeup artists needed to pat on layer after layer of foundation.

Today's episode was supposedly focused on a game of tag. There would be two chasers, while the rest would have to run and hide, successfully, for two hours.

After a long game of rock, paper, scissors, Joshua and Seungkwan are chosen.

They get into a little van, counting till a hundred, while everyone else runs across the expanse of the beach, searching for shelter.

You slip into a little nook behind a couple of thick trees, tucking your legs under you.

Your cameraman graciously offered to leave you alone, lest you get caught, and you find yourself all alone, surrounded by moss and forest.

That doesn't last long.

Heavy footsteps draw your attention, and your ears perk up. Surely they haven't finished counting so soon?

Pushing your body closer to the walls of the tree, you peer up at the body making it's way to you.

Pale skin, black swimming trunks, no shirt-

"Seungcheol?"

"oh shi- move in, they're coming"

You oblige, schooching further in as he pushes up against you.

His shoulders shield you from the side, chest flush against your upper arm as his breath tickles the shell of your ear.

"sorry," he mumbles, trying to give you as much space as the little hull would permit- which, admittedly, is not very much.

"you're good,"

Silence settles on you like a heavy blanket, heating up the skin on both your bodies.

"you've uh, got a good eye for hiding spots"

"yeah I was undefeated at tag in the second grade"

He chuckles, shaking his head.

"sorry- you're just trynna make conversation I know-" you mumble, slightly guilty.

"don't be,"

You nod, shifting slightly.

"you're so tense," he muses, eyes trailing over your scrunched shoulders, "shouldn't be so on edge all the time y'know"

Amused by your silence, he continues.

"breathe, y/n"

You suck in a shaky breath, unsure of why your body listens to his command without question.

"that's it, good, now let go for me"

His voice is soothing like the tide; it ripples through you, smoothing out your trembling nerves.

"there we go, one more time,"

Following his voice, you feel your body relax completely. For the first time all day, you've felt your body calm.

"thank you," you mutter, and turn to face him.

Bad idea.

Bad. Idea.

All the breath work he'd helped you with goes flying out the window when you see how close his face really is.

The puffs of air he let's out fan over your face, hovering over the crimson of your lips. You feel your breath catch, your heart quicken, your face heat up.

He's so close.

An inch closer and his lips would be on yours.

Before your thoughts get any further, you look away, opting to look at the width of his shoulder instead.

"uh uh, you're looking at me" he tuts as he eases your chin back in his direction. The pad of his thumb grazes your skin, and your blush burns brighter.

An amused smile twists at his lips and obviously, you're aware of how pathetic you must look.

Just as you're about to push his hand away, he leans closer, whispering-

"do I make you nervous?"

There's a pull between your bodies, a magnet drawing you closer, closer still. Seungcheol's breaths fan over your face and his eyes drop to take in the plush of your lips. You follow suit, eyes darting from his own to his lips.

It's as though time stills around you, like you've been set in glass, and he's about to kiss you, when suddenly, you hear a familiar yell.

"SHUA HYUNG- THERE'S A FOOT OVER HERE!"

You jolt upright, pulling away from Seungcheol so quickly he can barely process what's just happened.

Your eyes dart to his lower body, and you see the way one of his feet stick out beyond the width of your hiding spot.

"wh-"

In a haste, you push a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"your leg-" you whisper-shout at him, tilting your head towards the traitorous foot.

His eyes widen.

Before you can say anything more, Seungcheol grasps your hand, gently taking your finger off his lips and places it against yours. Wordlessly, he rises to his feet, shielding you with his body.

"I GOT CHEOLLIE HYUNG-" you hear Seungkwan yell.

Quizzical as ever, you glance up at the man before you, brows knitting together. He shoots you a sly wink, and whispers- "you'll win for me, won't you?", leaving you red faced and confused.

"ya got me, I'll admit," he holds his hands above his head as he steps away, in Seungkwan's direction.

The next moments pass by in a haze, like you've been submerged under water. All you could think of was the way his breath felt on your lips, the way his voice simultaneously soothed and burned your nerves, the way he protected you- giving himself up instead.

Damn Choi Seungcheol and the way he had you wrapped around his little finger.

You remain hidden for the next twenty-or-so minutes, and the game comes to an end.

You've won.

You're told that your prize is a local dinner with a person of your choosing- staff or member, and it only makes sense to pick Seungcheol. After all, you wouldn't have won without him.

Failing to notice the dejected gazes and smiles the rest of the members sent your way, you walk past them, headed straight for him.

"I choose you." you say, standing in front of him.

The way his eyes widen, lips parting in an instant, tells you that this wasn't on his bingo list. You? Choosing him of all people? Hell- he thought he fucked up big time today-

"me?"

"you."

He's dumbfounded. Honest.

At the restaurant, you sit opposite one another at a table for two. Cameras surround you like endless ocean, and your table becomes an island.

You know he's thinking about today's events when his gaze flicks down to your lips. You know you're thinking about it too.

You also know, however, that this is not the place to discuss secret almost-kisses. Not when everything you do, everything you say, will be monitored.

"I'm still so surprised you chose me," he chuckles as you finish getting your makeup done.

"I couldn't have won without you,"

There's a smallness to your voice, one he hasn't heard these past few days. It's meek and soft and shy and god it's killing him. How could you be this adorable?

"oh c'mon, that was... nothing, honestly"

You shake your head, looking into his eyes earnestly, and he goes quiet. Flicking back and forth, from eyes to lips, you find yourselves sinking into dangerous territory.

The rich brown of his pupils seemed to grow darker as they held your picture within them. Each second he spent looking at you had them blowing wider and wider with something you couldn't help but swoon over.

Perhaps your feelings were being...returned?

Clearing your throat, you remember you're on camera.

"w-what are we ordering?" you blurt out.

"d'you have any preferences or would you like me to order for us?"

Your heart twists at the way he says it- 'us'.

Us.

"you can order...fo- for us" you mutter as your head drops ever so slightly, and you look up at him through heavy lashes and burning cheeks.

The corners of his lips turn upwards, into the softest smile he can fathom, and he nods- although more to himself that to you.

"how about Khao Soi? we can do that, some raw papaya salad and a sticky rice dessert to finish?"

You nod, letting your eyes skim over the way his throat moves with every word he says. As he beckons the waiter over, you can't help but notice how long and thick his fingers are, how veins trail across his arm.

And his voice- god, his voice. The deep, rich timbre of it has you feeling weak in the knees every time you hear him speak.

"-and to drink, we'll get two coconut waters," he concludes, sending the waiter off with your orders. "I wonder what the others are doing,"

"me too, I feel a little bad y'know... we should've all come together" you pout.

"yeah I can't say they're very happy to have missed this-"

You smile- "missed the food, right?"

"sure"

You exchange knowing glances, your eyes having their own secret conversation, unbeknownst to the cameras around them.

Dinner flies by like a cool summer breeze, and you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into Seungcheol's charms. Not only did he ensure that you were served first, he also made sure to cut your chicken into bite sized pieces, and remembered little details from your earlier conversations.

A flirty remark was thrown in every now and then, some more obvious than others, and you found yourself turning red so often, you might as well have gotten a permanent sunburn.

You talk about music and the people you look up to, the stars, highschool memories- everything. Conversation just came so easily with him.

The plates and bowls before you lay empty on the table, the cameras have been turned off, and your mics have been taken away.

Seungcheol gets out of his seat, moving to your side as he offers you his hand. You take it, graciously, and rise from your chair.

"thanks," you mumble, slightly tipsy from the blood his touch sends rushing to your head.

"mhm"

You step outside, trailing behind the staff members while you walk towards your hotel.

"so," he starts, when you've kept a safe distance from prying ears and eyes, "about today..."

Before he can say anything more, you shudder, suddenly feeling nervous.

He looks at you, brows furrowing, but chooses to move on anyways.

"...I uh, did I scare you? was that too much?"

"no! no I just- it caught me off guard is all"

"I seem to be doing that a lot huh?" he muses, fighting back a sly smirk. Seungcheol steps closer, shoulders bumping into yours, and you let out a surprised squeak.

Embarrassed, you turn away as he laughs beside you. A pout takes over your full lips, causing his laughter to increase its intensity.

"tha-that wasn't-" you huff out, to which he raises an amused brow.

"wasn't what? wasn't 'cause of me- wasn't 'cause I make you nervous?"

Oh.

He had you figured out.

You might as well have been stark naked under his stare, 'cause frankly- there was nothing left to hide. Not from him.

Still, you make one last attempt at disguising your feelings towards him. Through deep red cheeks, flushed skin, you speak-

"you- I'm not nervous!"

"uhuh, sure you aren't, sweetheart"

Your heartbeat quickens at the petname. Surely, he didn't just-

"hey-" he snaps you out of your thoughts, "I can practically hear the gears turning in that head of yours,"

"let me beeee" you whine, nudging him away lightly with your fingers knocking against his bicep. Seungcheol brings a hand to his chest and pouts in faux pain, eyes scrunching shut.

"I'll leave you alone then," he begins to step away from you, and you panic. Without thinking, you pinch the fabric of his shirt sleeve between your fingers, and tug him back, preventing him from leaving.

You stay silent when he twists his gaze to you, and whatever semblance of mystery, of uncertainty, you'd built up comes crashing down. The gentle grasp of your fingers on his shirt tells Seungcheol all he needs to know.

The two of you walk in silence, and before long you find yourselves at the hotel, bidding people goodnight as you enter the elevator together.

"it's cute when you do that, y'know?" he says, suddenly, motioning to the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

"it is?"

"uhuh, even that little pout you make everytime you're flustered-" he brings his hands down to meet yours, grasping your fist gently. You fingers lace together like pieces of a puzzle, and he steps closer.

"really?"

"mhm" Another step.

"Seungcheol," you breathe. The air feels heavy, dense with desire and want. A little voice at the back of your head urges you to step back, to stop whatever this is, but you can't help yourself.

"tell me you want me to stop- tell me you don't feel this,"

There's a rawness to his voice, something akin to desperation. He begs you with his eyes to say something, anything, he's been losing his mind over you and it hurts to have you this close but still out of reach.

"I-" you start. The elevator dings, signalling your floor, and your eyes snap to the open doors. "it's late, we should-"

"do you feel this, y/n?" he pleads, loosening his grip on your wrist.

"we shouldn't-"

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated groan as you slip out of his grasp, slowly backing away down the corridor and into your room. He watches you disappear and something inside him begins to snap.

It had been two days. Two days since he met you, but it felt like his heart had been searching for you since forever. The way you'd fit perfectly into his arms, the way your shy demeanor mellowed out his intimidating one, how easy it was to talk to you- Seungcheol knew deep within, his feelings for you were more than a simple crush.

You wake up the next day, and head down for breakfast. Avoiding the pleading glances Seungcheol sends your way, you force yourself to eat. You aren't sure why you do this- it's not like you feel uncomfortable, hell you feel exactly the way he does. So, why was it so hard to look at him?

Seungkwan and Vernon strike up a conversation with you, talking about what was in store for today.

"our hair-makeup Noona told me that we're going shopping!" Seungkwan beams. Vernon nods, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.

"shopping?"

"yep we're gonna buy clothes and food and stuff and I think there's a mini game in the evening"

You nod, finishing up your breakfast, and soon enough, you're all on your way to a large market place.

Bright stalls lit up the street, the smell of fresh food filled your senses, and the sun shone down, illuminating the world around you.

You had till the evening to do as you pleased.

Splitting off into groups, everyone begins to explore the market place, and you just so happen to be with Jeonghan, Joshua and Seungcheol.

If the past few days have taught you anything, it's that the twins cannot be trusted. The moment you see Joshua flash you a cheeky grin, you know they're up to no good.

A stall catches your eye, decorated with the most beautiful jewellery you've ever seen. Seashells and gem stones wrapped in thin gold wire made the prettiest necklaces and earrings, and you couldn't help but pick one up for yourself.

"see anything you like?"

It's Seungcheol. He plants himself behind you, chest pressed to your back, lips hovering dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

You freeze, holding the necklace in one hand. Before you can respond, an arm reaches out beside you and pries the item out of your hand.

"pretty," he mumbles, sending shivers down your spine.

You crane your neck to the side while your eyes search for his, and you see him staring directly at you.

"I uh, yeah it's um pretty"

Seungcheol places the piece back down, leaning into you as he reaches over the table- essentially trapping you between the display and his body.

Your breath hitches at how close he is. One wrong move- one right move- and his lips would be on yours. You don't dare to look away.

"aren't you gonna buy it?" the stall owner cuts in, "pretty necklace for pretty lady, eh?"

You shake your head as you step away- "I shouldn't-" you trail off, suddenly realising that Jeonghan and Joshua are nowhere to be seen.

"hey where'd those two go?" You set off, walking ahead to look for them- an excuse, obviously, to get away from Seungcheol. The blood rushing to your head was making you feel dizzy.

The day passes, you explore the market, eating all that you could. Taking in the new sights and smells, you feel so alive. Happiness really doesn't need much, does it?

Back at the hotel, you find yourself in your room with Joshua and Seungkwan as they try on all the new clothes they bought.

"kay this is the last one I think-" Seungkwan says, appearing in a blue Hawaiian shirt and some funny looking sunglasses.

You give him a thumbs up, turning to Joshua.

"you're done too?"

"mhm, I didn't buy too much"

You talk for a bit before they say their goodbyes, turning in for the night, and you're left alone in your room with nothing but your thoughts to entertain you.

'pretty'

Seungcheol's voice soothes through you and once again, you find yourself drifting off into thoughts of him. A sneaky hand slides down your body, past your sleep shorts, and you let your mind think back to him.

Day four begins uneventfully. It's a lazy morning, you order room service, read a little.

The real fun begins at night.

At 8 pm, you're ushered into the hotel bar, right by the pool. Bright neon lights hanging from the ceiling, the pool is illuminated by electric blue, and a large table- enough to seat 14- is placed in the centre.

"oh shit," Vernon comments from beside you, lowering his phone as you all take in the space around you.

A speaker comes to life from somewhere in the corner, and a distorted voice booms throughout the setting.

"night has come. prior to this evening three of you have received chits, revealing your role as the mafia."

Excited oohs and ahs leave everyone's lips as you wait for further information.

"the mafias have been allowed to meet and plan their strategy, the policeman and doctor have been chosen as well, but are not aware of each other's identity. if the mafias succeed in killing a majority of the civillians, they win. if the civillians kill all three mafia members, the civilians win. hidden in this space is a seashell. find it, and you win 500,000 won. if you don't find it- the money goes to the mafias, and they win. note- the pool is not off limits. please be seated at the table, and place your first guesses"

In a flurry of excitement and energy, you sit down. Everyone's on edge. The air is electric. A sly smile threatens to ruin your facade of innocence, but you push it down, putting on your best performance.

Earlier this morning, you, Minghao and Jeonghan had met up in your room, planning your victory.

The plan was simple. You had to tug on a couple heartstrings- use your charm to your advantage.

As long as you weren't suspected, the mafias would win.

And so, the game begins. Accusations go flying back and forth- fingers point wildly as voices raise to shocking decibels.

You watch your partners carefully.

Minghao is cool, composed, quiet- just like he usually is. Jeonghan uses his words, spreading accusations like wildfire, and the others eat it up with no hesitation.

All of a sudden, Soonyoung jerks out of his chair, rising to his feet with revelation written all over his face. His eyes widen momentarily before they narrow at the poor soul sitting opposite him.

"guys- IT'S MINGYU- TRUST ME GUYS, I'LL EXPLAIN IT ALL LATER IT'S MINGYU-"

The larger man huffs, shoulders slumping as he accepts defeat.

The game goes on, Mingyu has been killed, and the first round of searching yields no results for the civillians.

"night has fallen. mafias please select who you want to kill"

You point to Wonwoo.

The doctor fails to save him.

"morning is here- innocent civilian Wonwoo has been killed"

And again, chaos descends upon the room. Accusations settle on Woozi now, who's been suspiciously quiet according to the other members. You join in as well, agreeing with the majority, and Woozi is killed.

You, Minghao and Jeonghan share secret smiles.

The second round of searching begins and you wander off, pretending to search around.

"I can see right through you, y'know..." Seungcheol says, appearing beside you.

"wh-"

"nah I'm just kidding- who d'you think it is?"

"why would I reveal my cards? what if you're the mafia?" You narrow your eyes at him, backing away slightly in jest.

"cause I'm the police officer. and I think we should form an alliance-"

Hook, line, and sinker.

An grin takes over your features and you nod, "yeah I'd like that" You stare up at him, eyes wide, shining with innocence, and he melts instantly.

To him, you're intentions are all good. After all, how could you- an actual angel on Earth- betray him?

"night has fallen, mafias please select who you want to kill"

As Jeonghan and Minghao raise their heads, you mouth- 'Seungcheol- he's the police officer', and point to the man in question.

Jeonghan shoots you a proud smile before returning to crouch down on the table.

Once again, the doctor fails, and you succeed.

Seungcheol is dead.

"morning is here- policeman Seungcheol has been killed"

His jaw drops. Looking at you, Seungcheol is astonished at your effortless deception.

The third round begins and you sneak away into a closet, pretending to search. Seungcheol comes up behind you, and smirks.

"sly girl," he says, voice low and sultry, "got my guard down with that pretty face"

Your breathing halts.

Pretty.

Oh.

"what are y-"

"oh cut the bullshit, you knew exactly what you were doing- looking at me with those eyes,"

A bashful smile plays at your lips and you take a few steps back, coming in contact with the wall behind you. He smirks, stepping closer and closer with one hand tucked loosely in his pocket while the other reaches up to brush your hair out of your face.

The contact makes your skin flush, and he chuckles in disbelief.

"fuck you're adorable-"

He leans down, lips ghosting over yours, as his eyes grow heavy.

Time, unfortunately, isn't on your side, and the round comes to an end. You pout, mouthing a quick "sorry", and leave as his arm chases your parting figure.

"night has fallen, mafias please select who you want to kill"

The next couple of rounds pass by quickly, and finally all the members are killed, save for Soonyoung and Jun.

Your victory is announced, and you head back to you rooms after a hearty dinner.

Seungcheol and you make your way to the elevator, after saying your good-byes, and for the first time, you see him scowl.

"what's wrong?" you giggle, leaning against the elevator wall.

"oh nothing nothing," he mutters, stepping closer with each word, "I've been trynna kiss this girl for a while now, but I think God hates me"

You laugh, tipping your head back against the cool metal wall, and Seungcheol stands stunned. You were just so beautiful.

After a moment of silence, you straighten up, facing him once more, only to find his gaze already fixed on you. There's sure shot desire and awe burning behind his eyes. It's clear as day.

You stare up at him, and it's as though the world stops. The same pull you felt all these days, draws your bodies closer. Like a moth to flame, Seungcheol finds himself drawn to you. He's helpless.

He stands in front of you, your faces dangerously close, and you feel your breathing quicken. One hand cradles the nape of your neck while the other finds your waist.

"Seungcheol-"

"hm?"

"please-"

And his lips are on yours.

Colours blur together behind your closed eyes, fireworks go off in your head, your skin hums under his touch- it's nothing short of perfect; like a kiss straight out of the movies.

Your lips push against each other with a desperation you've never felt before, and his hands pull you closer. Seungcheol moves with such expertise, you can't help but feel your knees weaken with every motion of his body.

The ding of the elevator pries you away from each other, and you pull away panting. Your chest heaves like never before, and he shoots you a knowing glance. With his eyes he asks you- 'shall we continue?'

You rush out of the elevator, heading straight for his room. Shaky hands slide his keycard into the door and you're in.

Stepping inside, reality hits you like a truck and you pause.

"what's wrong-"

"what if someone finds ou-"

"shut up"

"what?"

"shut up" he breathes, pushing his lips against yours once again, effectively silencing you. All your doubts melt away, it's like the world's forgotten.

A hand sneaks down to your lower back, pulling you closer, and you gasp. Seungcheol smirks, taking advantage of your parted lips as he slides his tongue into your mouth. You whimper at the motion and his lips quirk up.

He loved it when you got all flustered for him, but this tops it all. Once he heard the little sound you made, there was no containing himself. The little control he'd managed to retain, finally snapped, and he let himself go.

The kiss turns hotter, wetter, and you both know where this is going.

Your chest burns, you heart races, and you pull away, panting. His eyes narrow in on the unsteady rise and fall of your chest, the swollen pout of your lips, the unmarked, tender flesh of your neck.

Backing up, Seungcheol settles down, sitting at the foot of the bed with his legs spread slightly as he adjusts his trousers. He looks up at you.

"c'mere baby" his voice is sinfully sultry, fingers beckoning you over to sit on his lap.

Your feet follow before your brain does, and you straddle his thigh, whimpering when your sex comes in contact with the firm muscle of his leg.

"oh?" he teases, hands smoothing over your hips, grabbing at the tender flesh as he forces your body to work against his thigh. "wanna ride my thigh, sweetheart?"

Your head dips into the crook of his neck and you nod, feeling small under the weight of his stare.

"c'mon, you gotta look at me-"

You whine into his neck, and he shudders, grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you into place.

"uh uh, this isn't up for debate baby," he tuts, "wanna see that pretty face"

You bite your lip, stifling a moan, when he rocks your hips into his thigh. The friction of your panties and the texture of his trousers sends you spiralling into a world of pleasure. Your skirt pools around your hips as he holds you steady, now bouncing his legs ever so slightly.

He pulls and pushes you as he pleases, manhandling your body like you were a toy- but god that made you feel some type of way. How he could move you and touch you and command you with such ease, had your panties soaked through.

You needed to feel him in you. Needed him to fill you up and fuck you so good you only remember his name.

"that's it, shit" he groans, pulling you harder until your clit snags ever so slightly on the fabric of his pants. You moan, legs twitching at the stimulation, and he smirks.

"you like that, huh?"

You nod, helplessly.

So he does it again. And again. And again, until your legs spasm around this thigh, until you moan and whimper, until you come undone.

All for him.

"aw sweetheart, you made a mess," he coos, as his hands run along the curve of your ass.

"don't- fuck don't say that"

You face is beet red- if he didn't know any better he would've been concerned right about now.

"d'you wanna keep going baby?"

You nod, eyes shining.

"so eager," he grins, "here, lie down for me-" Seungcheol pushes you gently so that your body rests comfortably on his mattress, and crawls atop you, legs settling at either side of your hips.

As much as you've thought about this very scenario, as much as you've imagined how he'd be on top of you, nothing could've prepared you for how breathtaking Seungcheol looks like this.

His hair's messy, his cheeks are flushed, and the look in his eyes has you burning with anticipation. How someone could be so gorgeous is beyond you.

"m'gonna make you feel good, hm?" he murmurs, dipping his head into the crook of your neck, sucking little love bites into the tender flesh. You groan, tilting your head involuntarily, and nod.

He grins against you, lips streching in a knowing smirk. Trailing his kisses lower to your collarbones, to the swell of your breasts, Seungcheol glances up at you-

"may I?" he asks, fingers sliding under the hem of your top, splaying against your tummy.

"mhm, please"

Pleased, he lifts your top off, tossing is aside before working your bra. Deft fingers slide under your back, clicking your clasps open with ease, and suddenly, you're bare under him.

Your nerves catch up to you, and you realise that he's staring. He's staring hard. Like you're the eighth wonder of the world and he's just discovered you. Like you're the long lost city of gold and he's been searching for you all his life. Like-

"you're so beautiful," he breathes. "fuck- let me look at you"

You turn away, a bashful smile lighting up your face- "stopp"

"I'm serious, you're honestly so-" he huffs out, unable to find a word big enough to fit how he feels about you.

A giggle bubbles out of your throat and he smiles. His eyes crinkle, forming tiny crescents, as he looks down at you so fondly you think you're heart's going to burst.

He presses his face into your chest, inhaling the scent of your skin while his lips press tender kisses to your breasts. The wet smacks he leaves across your skin burn cool under the gentle breeze swaying through the room. It tickles your skin.

Feeling his lips move along your skin, your desperation only builds.

"Seungcheol," you whine, drawling out the last syllable, "hurry please"

He tuts and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your breast, your body jolts in response.

"patience," he mumbles into your skin, "patience, baby", leaving goosebumps as he speaks. A shiver wracks its way through you, uncontrollable and intense.

"oh sweetheart-"

Choosing to be merciful, Seungcheol kisses a trail down your naked torso, stopping above the waistband of your skirt.

"this okay?"

"more than okay- just god, please don't stop" you whimper, hips jerking involuntarily into his hand.

Slowly, meticulously, he dips two fingers under the edge of your skirt and drags it down, letting his nails rake over the expanse of your thighs.

You shudder under his touch, completely at his mercy.

Once your skirt is off completely, he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your ankle, and crawls up to face your cunt.

"god you've made such a mess of these," he rasps, running a finger along your slit through your soaked panties. Automatically, your hips roll up, seeking something more, but he forces them down firmly.

One hand holds you down while the other prods at your clothed entrance. He shoots you an evil smirk, and your breathing grows shallow.

"I hope you don't like these too much,"

All you hear is fabric ripping at the seams, and your eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"wha- oh my god" you cut yourself off with a loud moan as Seungcheol licks a thick stripe up your slit.

He winks up at you, eyes flashing with pride, and begins his work.

It's true what they say about rappers- their tongues really are built different.

Seungcheol devours you like he's been starved for years, like he begins and ends with you, like the taste of you is intoxicating. His tongue dips down into you, collecting your arousal before spreading it over your clit it firm waves.

The way he works that muscle against you isn't funny. It has you yelping, whimpering so pathetically you're both embarrassed and turned on at the same time

He laves at your clit, lapping up your juices greedily as if it gave him more pleasure than it did you.

"you taste divine," he mutters, half to himself, before plunging two fingers into your aching sex without warning. You moan, back arching off the bed, hips rolling up to meet his lips.

Seungcheol flicks his tongue rapidly against your hardened bud while his fingers piston in and out of you, curling up into you- oh, right there.

Your limbs tremble under his hold and your stomach tightens deliciously, waiting eagerly for your release; with the way he works your body, it isn't far away.

"Cheollie m'close-" you gasp, hands flying down to hold him in place, lest he decide to deny you of your orgasm. He groans when you tug at his hair, sending sound waves vibrating through your nerves.

A thin film of sweat settles over your skin, coating you like gloss. Your body writhes under his touch, and within moments, you feel yourself slip into blinding pleasure. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you limbs twitch helplessly.

Seungcheol eases you through your orgasm, slurping at your folds to taste your arousal. He pulls away with a smacking sound, his chin coated in your slick, and smirks at the fucked out look on your face.

"that good, huh?"

Cocky bastard. You want to smack that stupid smirk off his face, you want to throttle him and yell and hide all at the same time- but you know he's right. It really was that good.

So, you nod, looking away bashfully, red smeared across your pretty cheeks.

"wanna see you," you whimper, when he finally rises to his feet, towering over you.

He cocks a brow at you, a challenge dancing in his eyes, and you pout.

"please"

His expression stays the same and you can't help the exasperated huff you let out.

"please Cheollie I wanna see you,"

Finally, he smiles, obliging- "there we go, that's my good girl"

You aren't sure what you expected from him, but the moment he lifts his shirt off, time begins to slow. The lean, hard muscle of his chest, the defined ridges of his abs, the sinful swell of his biceps- you were drooling.

"can I-"

You trail off, sitting up so that you're seated at the edge of the bed, your face right in his abs.

"you can do whatever you want, sweetheart, m'all yours"

You giggle, "c'mon we've known each other for all of three days,".

"a lot can happen in three days,"

"mhm, but still-"

"hey," he turns serious for a second, "if this is going too fast for you, we can take things slower, okay?"

And suddenly, your desperation skyrockets. You've needed him from the moment you first saw him, and now that the time has come, it'll take an earthquake to stop this from happening.

Eager hands rake down his torso, tucking under the waistband of his pants. He hisses at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as you undress him.

"I want this," you affirm, voice soft and sultry, "I want you."

Leaving him in his boxers, you press a kiss to his abs, letting your hands roam over his defined torso, and then a little lower. Hard earned muscle greets your touch, and you can't help the way your cunt begins to clench up.

Seungcheol has the body of a god.

"baby-" he rasps as he threads his fingers through your hair, "fuck, you're gonna make me cum just like this-"

You giggle, letting him push you gently back onto the bed. He stares you down, eyes locking onto yours, and slides his last garment off so slowly you could cry.

"hurry" you whine, spreading your legs desperately.

Seungcheol has to compose himself. He really does. The sight of you, all spread out for him, so eager for him, has his head spinning. He curses under his breath, kicking his boxers off, and crawls above you, rubbing his cock along your wet folds.

A broken whimper claws up your throat at the contact, and you actually sob when he begins to push himself into you. Two fingers couldn't hold a candle to the girth of his cock.

"y-you're so big" you gasp, tears pricking at your eyes, and for once, you aren't lying just to feed a male ego. He was huge.

Your walls stretch deliciously around his girth, and you let out a shrill cry when he pushes further. You've taken big cocks before, but this? This put your toys to shame.

"just let go, doll, that's it baby, that's it-" he soothes, sucking in shaky breaths, trying desperately to control himself.

After what feels like an eternity, Seungcheol finally bottoms out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix with ease.

"oh," is all you can manage, feeling your insides make room for him. The shape of his cock presses into your walls, and your certain you won't be able to walk tomorrow. He's thick and long and heavy, and god you feel like some cock-hungry slut, with how desperate you seem to have gotten for him.

"fuck- you're so tight-"

"pl-please move," you whimper, jaw falling open when he draws his hips back before slamming into you.

Tears spill over the dams of your eyes, staining your flushed cheeks. Your eyes glisten with desire as you stare up at him, watching how his face contorts in pleasure.

"that's it, sweetheart," he seethes, supporting his weight on his forearms, caging you with his body, "takin' me so fucking good".

The drag of his cock, in and out of your sloppy cunt is nothing short of addictive. With every snap of his hips, you find yourself craving more and more, wanting him to burn, break, bend you.

"Cheollie please," your nails rake down his back, leaving marks you're sure you'll get in trouble for tomorrow, but you don't care and neither does he. All that matters is you, him and the pleasure you feel in this moment.

As Seungcheol pounds into you, his eyes remain trained in on your face, never losing focus of what matters most- you. There's a tender adoration in his gaze, how he looks at you so fondly, like you're the prettiest damn thing in the world.

"good fuckin' girl," he groans, "keep those eyes on me."

The room fills with the smell of sweat and the sound of sex- skin on skin, moaning, panting. You'd have been embarrassed of the lewd noises slipping past your lips if you'd have had your wits about you. The walls are thin. You know this. You know this, but still- feeling as good as you do, you can't bring yourself to care. Dealing with angry neighbours is tomorrow's problem.

A hand slips in between your legs, thumbing your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive nub, and your eyes screw shut.

That all too familiar knot in your tummy begins to form, and Seungcheol forces his cock into you harder. The combined stimulation of his dick inside you and his hands on you is intoxicating, and you sink into the mattress, feeling a wave of release wash all over you.

But he's far from done.

"fuck-" he moans, feeling your walls spasm and squeeze around him as you cum all over his cock, "take it for me, yeah? you can take a little more, can't you?"

You whimper, legs quivering from overstimulation, and your body jerks under him as he continues to thrust into you, using your body as he pleases.

"shh, I know baby, I know," he soothes, dipping his head into your neck, sucking deep red bruises into the skin there.

Tears pool in your eyes, you nerves scream for respite, but you can't bring yourself to stop.

You can't help it.

He grabs your thigh, hooking it over his back, and pushes into you, reaching further than before. The new position sends you reeling from pleasure, and you swear no man has ever made you feel like this.

Despite having just cum, you feel another orgasm build in your belly- this one approaching much faster than the last.

"m'gonna- Cheollie please please, gonna cum" you sob, clawing at his back as his thrusts grow sloppy and harsh.

"cum for me."

And you do, clenching down hard around his length, leading him to his own release. He fills you up, emptying white hot fluid into your greedy hole, and finally, you're satiated.

Your limbs tremble and spasm, your skin feels sticky and hot, and your lips are swollen- but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Seungcheol collapses onto you, putting pressure of your stomach, causing your combined arousals to seep out of you, trickling onto the duvet.

"let's get a bath going for you," he chuckles, lifting his body back up and walking to the bathroom.

He fiddles around with the taps for a minute before coming back out, plucking a little box out of his bag as he settles down next to you.

"for you," he smiles, pressing the item into your hand.

You pry it open, and your jaw drops.

It was the necklace you wanted. The pretty one with the seashells and gems. You turn to him, eyes glistening and pull him into a sweet kiss.

It's different from your earlier ones. The way his lips move against yours aren't as agressive, and desperate as before. This time, he seems to be showing you how he feels, showing you his sincerity- it's almost as if he's trying to ask: "will you be mine?"

You pull away, breathless. His eyes sparkle as he looks fondly at you.

"pretty necklace for pretty lady," he grins, "right?"

#seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #choi seungcheol #scoups smut #scoups #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #kpop smut #seventeen seungcheol #shameless smut #strangers to lovers #it's all kinda rushed but like- c'mon

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ggidolsmuts · 6 months ago

Text

"Smart" Home - Le Sserafim Sakura, Chaewon

TW: Aphrodisiac use, purely to make a really stupid tech pun. Otherwise, this is relatively vanilla, but the concept is quite out there... Closest thing would be my Savage(d) and Guilty Pleasures stories? Sorry for the slight spoilers I guess lol

"Sakura-san, are you free later today? Would you like to join me for a coffee?"

"Sakura yah, you're so pretty, you should date! Are you seeing anyone at the moment? I know someone if you're interested."

"Kkura-unnie, a close friend says you're his favorite member, do you want to meet him? He's a good guy."

Despite her popularity, Sakura remains aloof, gently but firmly dissuading any potential suitors. Some wondered if she was just extremely private and already had a partner in secret, but her situation was actually a lot more complex...

"I'm back," Sakura calls out as she enters her house.

"Welcome back, Sakura, how was your day?"

"Tired."

"Would you like to relax? I have prepared the room, today's a training day."

"Oh right, yeah, sure why not." Sakura slips her top off first, leaving a trail of clothes (jeans, bra, panties) as she follows the disembodied voice of AInata. It is the product of Sakura's tinkering, the hobby she works on when she is not crocheting.

"Please strap in." Wholly naked she slips her legs and arms into place and they clasp around her ankles and wrists. Sakura closes her eyes, and she allows AInata to do its thing. It begins with a brush against her lips, not quite a kiss, but something softer—a velvet scarf glancing by. The fabric wraps around her neck, causing goosebumps to rise before it goes to her chest. Slowly it rubs against her nipples, and they grow hard and sensitive. With her legs spread Sakura can feel the beginnings of a trickle down her thighs—AInata was extremely competent at foreplay. The velvet scarf moves further down her body, wrapping warmly around her tight abs, giving her the sensation of being hugged. Her legs are split slightly further apart, and then—

"Unnnngh..." A cock parts her lips, but does not penetrate. The head of it rubs against her pussy, making her get even wetter. Back and forth it rubs, and Sakura bucks her hips, letting loose a moan and yearning for it to enter her. It is a cock she knows will give her extreme pleasure, having been designed and made to her "specifications". She tries to bring her hands down, wanting to shove it into herself, but AInata reacts, bringing her arms back up and making sure she stays spread-eagled. It uses her actions as a cue, and thankfully the dildo pushes into her firmly.

"Ohh, oh yes fuck!"

"Would you like to cum once, Sakura? Or should we proceed with training today?"

"Once first, but make sure you are recording data."

"Of course." Sakura is instantly swept up in pleasure as the cock begins thrusting in and out of her, the wrap around her seeming to pulse, matching the rhythm of the thrusts. In the privacy of her own home Sakura moans unreservedly, her hands allowed to dangle in the air, held up against some imaginary shoulders. It isn't a perfect simulation, but with Sakura's head in the clouds, it is a good enough imitation of a solid fuck with someone.

"Yes, yes, yes! I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" With a loud groan the cock pushes itself deeper into her, mimicking a lover finishing with her as Sakura's pussy contracts around it ecstatically, and audible drops of liquid are heard splattering the floor as more juice trickles down her thighs and legs, before being splashed about by her twitching feet. Limply Sakura hangs in the air, held up only by the restraints.

"Fuck that was good... Report?"

"Loudest vocalization was about 75 dB. Maximum heart rate was 130 BPM, fluid flow was minimal, about 50 cc." AInata continues to read out its measurements as Sakura manages to lift her head and wriggle her fingers and toes. "Vaginal grip was in the 46th percentile, body flush was Pantone 698U, body temperature was measured at 38 Celsius via thermal imaging. Should I continue?"

"No, that's fine, let's discard that run. Let me down, I want a shower before we start training."

"Of course, I will begin sterilizing the room."

"No need, I'll be back in like 10 minutes." Sakura leaves the room and heads straight for the shower, feeling a lot more relaxed after her session. It had been weeks she started the project, and AInata has learned extremely quickly how to pleasure her in the meantime. As she soaps herself up, Sakura's body warms again at the upcoming training session—it's one thing to have AInata get her off, but the thing she looks forward to the most are the training sessions. She doesn't even bother toweling herself off as she re-enters the training room.

"Welcome back Sakura, I sense that you are wet, should I dry you off?"

"Yes please." A robotic limb holding a hairdryer immediately appears, and Sakura simply stands still, allowing the warm air to flow all over her body, drying her hair and skin. "Thank you. Shall we begin the training?"

"Of course, please strap in." Sakura gets in once more, velvet wrapped around her torso. "I will begin training when you give the go-ahead."

"Begin." The breath is pushed out of Sakura as she is instantly rotated horizontally, lying in midair. Her hands are pushed above her head and the wrap pulls on her, as if a heavy weight is on top.

"God you're so hot Sakura, so fucking sexy." AInata's voice is now gruff and deep in her ear, and there is a semi-wet rub against her neck—a tongue licking her, and the firm pressure of a kiss. A throaty moan escapes her when she feels the cock enter her. Sakura's work brings new meaning to the phrase "Deep Learning" as AInata pushes inexorably into her. Rubs on her clit help her get even wetter, and between AInata's dirty talk and the thorough fucking Sakura loses herself to the training. Loud cries bounce around the room, and Sakura cums twice before AInata ramps it up.

"I'm going to share you," it states. Sakura is manipulated on to all fours, and she is looking at the floor of the training room, her own juices splatted on the floor, slowly flowing down the drains. The cock presses into her again, and to her surprise a second one is pressed against her ass.

"Mmm?!" It sprays lube across and into her, and in short order a cock is being pushed into her other hole. It's not a foreign sensation, but having two cocks in her is certainly new training space that AInata is looking into—today's session will be very insightful. A slightly different voice floats into her ear as it slowly pushes deep into her ass.

"You like this Sakura? One in each hole? Let us find out." Sakura can only drool and moan as she is experimented on. It starts off with synchronized thrusts, both cocks pushing deep in her ass and pussy at the same time. Then they begin to alternate—one in, one out. Then they start to drill her, the cock in her ass staying still while the one in her pussy thrusts rapidly. Then it is switched, her ass pounded mercilessly as her pussy stays plugged. The way AInata conducts its training is methodical, but the way Sakura cums is anything but. She clenches erratically around the cocks, unable to keep up with the changing of the tempo. When they withdraw from both holes, Sakura's juices splatter obscenely on the floor, adding to the puddle that isn't draining fast enough. For a brief minute the only thing that is heard is Sakura's harsh breaths and the drip-drop of slick from her pussy. A soft whirr is heard, and then it stops.

"Epoch 1 complete, beginning Epoch 2."

"Oh my GOD!" The re-entry in both holes take her by surprise, this time feeling even better—AInata has updated the cocks, reshaping it based on Sakura's responses earlier. The training regime is the same, the cocks fucking her in various rhythms. This time AInata rotates her into a vertical position, and soon both cocks are thrusting into her rapidly. The wrap around her tightens, making Sakura feel as if she is being slammed between two people. Her legs jerk and twitch uselessly.

"Cum for us," the merged voices whisper in her ear. A modular fingerpad rubs against her clit, and Sakura screams in blissful oblivion, blood pounding in her head.

"FUCK YES!" Sakura squirts violently, limbs thrashing about and head thrown back. A sheen of sweat across her skin as the orgasm runs through her, her tummy twitching and whole body trembling. If she could see herself, her body is completely flush, as if she has just sprinted a mile.

"Epoch 2 complete, beginning—"

"Pause!"

"Training paused."

"R-Report."

"Vocalization hit 85 dB, in the 100th percentile. Maximum heart rate was 140 BPM, fluid flow at 150 cc. Vaginal grip was at the 100th percentile, anal grip was also at the 100th percentile."

"Did you account for the pressure from using two dildos at once?"

"I did not, recalculating... 95th and 97th percentile respectively."

"Make sure to account for it in the future."

"Yes, Sakura. Should I continue the report?"

"No, that's fine. Save the results for future use."

"Yes."

"K-Kkura unnie?" Sakura's eyes snap open.

"Chaewon?!"

Chaewon had made her way to Sakura's place a while earlier. She wanted to pick something up from Sakura, as well as bring her some coffee since she had seemed so stressed during the day. As with the other members, she lets herself in with the passcode. Ordinarily this would not be an issue, but Sakura did not expect anyone to visit at all.

"Kkura unnie, I'm here! Kkura unnie?" Chaewon calls out into the seemingly empty place. She leaves the coffee on the table and walks about. "Kkura unnie, where are you? Chaewonie is here!" she calls out in a singsong voice.

Then she hears something. Chaewon has never heard it before, but she knows immediately what it is—Sakura moaning. Chaewon probably should have just blushed and left, but she never heard Sakura like that, and the continued moans and cries have left her a little curious and more than a little aroused. She quiets down, slinking in the direction of the sound, following the trail of clothes Sakura had left. Chaewon gets warmer and warmer as she gets warmer and warmer in the hide-and-seek game she's playing with herself. Sakura is louder than Chaewon's ever heard her unnie be—the thought of Sakura letting loose is almost unthinkable.

Nothing could prepare Chaewon for what she sees when she finally finds Sakura, for the unthinkable is merely child's play compared to what is in front of her. Sakura is spread open, nude body for all to see, sweaty blonde hair covering her face. Her pale skin is flushed pink, nipples stiff and quivering as she shakes uncontrollably. Chaewon's eyes are irresistably drawn between Sakura's legs, and they widen as she processes the thick dildo plunging in and out of her, spreading her swollen lips. Chaewon tries to look away in embarrassment, but all she sees next is the large puddle of juice beneath Sakura—just how much, or how hard, did she cum? Entranced, Chaewon watches silently, her breath getting heavier and her panties getting wetter.

"FUCK YES!" She jumps when Sakura screams, the loud rush of slick on the floor thundering in her ear. Speechless Chaewon watches her unnie go from crazed to normal, slowly recovering, and... talking to someone? Chaewon has burning questions, and a burning need between her legs, she couldn't stay silent anymore, she had to ask.

"K-Kkura unnie?"

"Chaewon?!" The blood drains from Sakura's face. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I came to pick something up, I brought you coffee too."

"O-Oh... How long have you been here?"

"A couple minutes, I think?" The two women stare at each other silently—what is there to say, what can be said? AInata breaks the silence.

"Hello Chaewon, I am AInata, Sakura's assistant, would you like a cookie?" Sakura's eyes widen and she opens her mouth, but it is too late, and Chaewon accepts the cookie without thinking.

"AInata?" Chaewon's mouth opens silently as a sudden heat fills her body—both in the real world and on the internet, she shouldn't have blindly accepted cookies, but Sakura's too late to warn her, and soon the aphrodisiac cookie is working its way down Chaewon's body. Sakura had developed it with AInata to arouse herself when she didn't "feel" like training, but in her pleasure-dulled state she was slow to recognize it. "You're... a computer?"

"Yes, Sakura made me."

"What are you doing with her?"

"She is training me—"

"AInata, enough, why did you give her the cookie?"

"I thought she would be useful in gathering more information. I need not remind you that I only have data based on you, which is biased."

"Was what I saw earlier, was that training?" Chaewon interrupts the conversation. Sakura is silent, but AInata is not.

"Yes."

"I want to see it again," Chaewon says immediately.

"C-Chaewon, ah!" Sakura yelps as AInata does as Chaewon wishes, beginning to move the dildos again. Her legs are brought up and spread, and the result is Sakura lewdly displayed for Chaewon, showing just how the training is done. The leader of Le Sserafim's mouth drops open as she realizes that Sakura has been fucked in both holes the whole time—between the aphrodisiac and the sight in front of her Chaewon's mind is melting, and the liquid is going all between her legs.

For Sakura's part, she can barely form a word as she is thoroughly fucked once more, the thought of being watched by Chaewon making her eyes roll. Through her erratic vision she sees Chaewon fidget, beginning to tug at her clothes, rubbing her neck, like she is too warm in her current outfit—the thought of Chaewon taking part in the training as well drive her quickly to climax.

"Oh fuck, oh FUCK?!" Sakura feels a warm fluid filling her pussy, the cock in her seeming to throb. "Nngh!" The creampie-like stimulation makes her spray as the dildo pulls out abruptly, and she splashes Chaewon with her squirt.

Chaewon twitches as Sakura's fluids land on her, her knees going weak. Her tongue brushes over her lower lip, where a drop has landed—sweet, tangy. She watches the fluids pour out of her unnie's pink pussy, and her inhibitions crumble—she gives in to her desires, to join whatever insanity Sakura concocted.

"What, what was that?" Sakura gasps, still recovering and ignorant of Chaewon's state.

"I have been reviewing your browser history, and noticed the presence of the search term 'creampie'." AInata states. "I sought to replicate it with your fluids, assuming it to be most natural. The consistency is of course, not accurate, but based on the data just now I think the effects of a creampie on your orgasm is worthy of further study."

"I-I'll do it, I want to... help." Chaewon's whisper thunders in Sakura's ears. The Chaewon standing in front of her is already unrecognizable, face wet from Sakura's own squirt, thighs rubbing together needily as she looks at Sakura with glassy eyes.

"Are you—"

"Please." The tone with which Chaewon begs her nearly drives Sakura wild.

"Okay, let me get out—"

"There is no need, Sakura, I have prepared another set of restraints in the event you brought someone to help with training."

"I... Okay, good job AInata."

"Thank you. Please remove your clothes Miss Chaewon." Sakura watches her groupmate strip down, pulling her sweater over her head and removing her tiny shorts, revealing her own tight body.

"Call me Chaewon, what's next?"

"Please put your feet and hands in the restraints here." Chaewon follows the instructions, shaking a bit in anticipation as they clasp around her wrist and ankles. "I will now begin training, Chaewon."

A low moan fills the room as a similar velvet wrap is pressed all over Chaewon—her lips, her neck, her breasts, her thighs. She sounds ever so desperate, driven mad with desire by the cookie and everything she has seen today. Chaewon croons when a dildo is placed against her pussy, rubbing her lips.

"Report your findings as you train," Sakura asks in a shaky voice.

"Of course. Lubrication is substantial, ready for training already." In other words, Chaewon is wet, and she is ready to be fucked. The thought is punctuated with a groan as the dildo disappears into Chaewon. The training begins with soft moans, but they quickly get louder as AInata begins pushing on her womb.

"She responds well to deep tissue stimulation." The wording is inexact, AInata showing a rare case of hallucination, but Sakura understands it just fine—Chaewon likes it deep.

"Yes! Harder, faster!" Her desperate cries ring throughout, and under the effects of the aphrodisiac Chaewon is hurtling to her first orgasm. With the pressure of the weighted wrap around her, she's lost in the sensations of getting fucked, even if she's alone. She looks down her body—her own legs are spread, and she's watching the cock disappear into her body. She clenches, and she whines as the cock gets bigger inside her—in response to her tight grip, AInata makes the dildo thicker, testing, and finding that it is enhancing Chaewon's pleasure. In her blissed out mind and the shaking of her own body as she is fucked, Chaewon thinks she's bulging, and the obscene thought makes her cum.

"Fuhnnngh!" Sakura watches her leader's tight body struggle against the restraints, jerking in a powerful orgasm—it was impossibly hot, and Sakura's squirming, her own two holes still filled with cocks.

"I would like to conduct adversarial training." AInata brings up as Chaewon gasps, coming down from her climax.

"What do you mean?" Sakura asks.

"I will train on both of you together, it will allow me to receive more reliable data. I can try what works for you on her, and what works for her on you." Sakura agrees immediately—after watching Chaewon she's too horny to say no now. The cock in her ass is removed, and Sakura is put into the same position as Chaewon.

"I will continue with the training then." Sakura whines much like Chaewon as the cock inside her gets bigger. Her first thought is realizing that Chaewon likes a bigger cock.

There is no second thought, because Chaewon is fucking right, and it seems to stretch her hole and mind to the limit. The two of them are pushed to orgasm after orgasm, taking turns as AInata tries different things on them. Chaewon watches Sakura get fucked to a toe-curling climax before she feels her own position adjusted—now she's tilted forward, hips above her head as she getting plowed from behind. When Sakura recovers, Chaewon is already well on her way to her second orgasm, and it is not too long before Sakura is put into that same position and dicked down. AInata makes changes small and large—the angle, the speed, the rhythm, the overall position, everything is taken into consideration as the two of them cum their brains out.

There is a distinct difference though—unlike Sakura, who has a puddle of juice beneath her, Chaewon creams around the cock stretching her out, the thicker whitish fluid seeming to cling to the cock, and more oozes out as AInata continues its training. Every time Chaewon cums, there are heavy drops of girlcum, dripping from the dildo, and every time Sakura climaxes, there is a wet splatter on the floor. AInata continues the training, until...

"Oh..." Sakura cums once more, and this time she feels the cock filling her again, except it is thicker, more substantial, more satisfying. She watches Chaewon's cum slide down the cock opposite her, and she instinctively knows what's inside her own pussy.

"Fuck Chaewon, CHAEWON!" Sakura's scream jolts Chaewon out of her stupor, and she watches her unnie gush all over the floor—she never thought she'd hear Sakura call her name like that.

"U-Unnie..."

"D-Did you— use her fluids?" Sakura gasps, and Chaewon blushes, realizing what she meant—that her very own cum was filling her unnie!

"I used a mix, the resulting mixture is more consistent with real ejaculate, I will collect more from Chaewon." Before Chaewon can grasp what AInata meant, she feels a cock push against her ass, and cold lube begins spurting in.

"Unnie, unnie, unnie!" Chaewon's cries of pleasure fall on deaf ears as Sakura's eyes are glued to the scene in front of her—as soon as a second cock enters Chaewon from behind, she absolutely drenches the cock in her pussy with girlcum, a deluge of thick fluid running down the shaft. AInata withdraws the dildo in her pussy, and heavy plops land on the floor between her legs—the cock in her ass is still going, pumping more cream out of her. The relative respite is temporary as AInata customizes the dildo for her greater pleasure, and Chaewon seizes up as it pushes into her again.

"Mmmm!" Chaewon can't even form words as the new cock feels better than ever. Her pussy is stretched deliciously, rubbing over her just right, and the cock in her ass also seems to be getting bigger, pulsing and throbbing!

"It's! Inside—" Chaewon falls silent, and Sakura watches her mind disappear—Sakura's eyes dilate with lust as she watches Chaewon's own eyes roll in her head. She creams without pause, like a dam in her is broken as she jerks in a powerful orgasm. When the cocks are withdrawn, the cum-mixture spills from both her holes, and the truth dawns on Sakura—Chaewon was just double-creampied, filled to the brim with their combined fluids. Sakura expects the same for herself, and she tightens in anticipation, but it does not come just yet.

"Commencing DirectInput trial with two people." That's new. Sakura's ass is left gaping as the cock is removed, and Chaewon's mess of a pussy is plugged once more, both women taking only one cock now. Sakura gasps as the cock in her thrusts in, and her hips buck instinctively. Seemingly in response, the cock in Chaewon thrusts in, and she whines and jerks her body. Turns out, it is mimicking their hip movements, for when Sakura snaps her hips forward again, and Chaewon cries out loudly in response—yes, Sakura's the one fucking Chaewon! The very thought drives Sakura crazy, and she's bucking her hips with wild abandon, watching her "cock" drive into Chaewon repeatedly. Of course, as Sakura moves her hips, her own dildo is moving inside her, building her pleasure up as she gives Chaewon pleasure.

"Kkura unnie, Kkura unnie!" At this point Chaewon is well aware of what's Sakura doing, seeing and feeling her unnie's cock drive right through her own body. When Sakura groans loudly in her climax, Chaewon cums with her, fists clenched tightly and toes curled in ecstasy—she can't help it when it's Sakura's cock filling her womb with cum.

And then it's Chaewon's turn. She starts off slowly, testing with a few slow strokes. Soon though, Sakura's begging to be fucked.

Begging her.

"F-Faster, go faster Chaewon-ah! Harder!" She's still sensitive, but for Sakura, Chaewon can go fast, and she moves her hips as quickly as she can, her lower lip quivering as the pleasure rises in her own body. Sakura's abs twitch equally in pleasure, overstimulated but wanting Chaewon to fuck her to an orgasm. Chaewon puts her all into it, and Sakura feels each and every thrust rock her body, the wrap tightening around her, as if Chaewon's slamming her directly. She had never wondered how Chaewon fucks, now she won't be able to not think about it ever again. With a few more thrusts Chaewon delivers in more ways than one, pushing Sakura off the edge as she pumps her full of cum, the two of them cumming together once more.

"Testing simultaneous DirectInput now." Both cocks now move in response to the other's movements, and the two women are bucking haphazardly, each action triggering a reaction from the other—Sakura would buck her hips, which would make Chaewon jerk in response, making the cock in Sakura move and thrust. Sakura's fucking Chaewon, Chaewon's fucking Sakura, and they're cumming at the same time, giving the other a creampie. They both scream when a cock is pushed into their ass again, and it becomes a completely unhinged feedback loop—Chaewon finds herself fucking Sakura's ass, all while Sakura fucks her pussy, and then the input switches, and Chaewon feels Sakura deep up her ass while she pounds into Sakura's squirting slit. They feed off each other's peaks, filling each other with their mixed fluids in every hole, even as Sakura produces more slick and Chaewon produces more cream.

It all finally stops when AInata says so, withdrawing all dildos from their holes and making them squirm at the sudden emptiness.

"Disk capacity reached. Sakura, I will require more space, or to upgrade our cloud storage plan."

"Mmm... Okay, let's stop the session."

"Would you like a report? Vocalization—"

"Later, l-let us down please." They are lowered to the floor and the restraints are removed. They collapse in their own juices, legs weak and limbs a little numb from being restrained for so long. "Chaewon, are you okay?"

Chaewon is not okay. She has watched Sakura get fucked by AInata, then she watched Sakura get filled by her own cum, and then Sakura fucked her, filled her, and then she fucked Sakura back, filling her unnie similarly. Her world is warped, she could never see Sakura the same way again. Yet, she had one thing left to do.

She needed to touch Sakura.

"Kkura unnie..." Chaewon crawls over her shocked unnie. "I need you." She shows her desire with a kiss, and Sakura's too horny to push her away—after watching each other cum and squirt the whole time, she wants Chaewon too. Sakura leads Chaewon to her bedroom, and legs and arms and tongues finally tangle together in the sheets. Maybe it's the cookies still having an effect on her, but Chaewon gets on top of Sakura, driving a thigh against her unnie's wet pussy while she ruts down on Sakura's hip. The friction is delicious and electric for the two of them, leaving them whimpering in pleasure. Le Sserafim is known for their abs, and the two of them put their strong cores to good use, grinding their hips and making sure their thighs are left smeared with the other's juices.

Chaewon succumbs first, whimpering into Sakura's neck as her unnie bucks powerfully, bouncing Chaewon on her lap. She slips a finger into Chaewon's ass and with a yelp Sakura feels Chaewon cream, each squeeze of her ass seeming to produce more from the quivering leader.

"I want you to cum too unnie..." Chaewon whines, using the last of her strength to suck on Sakura's tits, pushing her thigh against Sakura's slit, and rubbing her clit with a yearning finger. The triple assault sets Sakura off, and with a strangled cry she shakes, rattles, and falls apart, soaking the sheets with the last of her cum. When she comes back down, Sakura finds Chaewon sucking on her lower lip, and she acquiesces, kissing and caressing her leader.

Weeks later, Chaewon goes up to Sakura in the dressing room, distracting her from her crocheting.

"Kkura unnie!"

"What what? What's the problem?"

"Nothing, nothing! I was wondering if you wanted to go to the gym together?"

"Gym? Our PT session is tomorrow."

"I know, I meant, do you want to do more... training tonight? With your friend?"

"What? Sakura has a friend?" Yunjin quips without thinking.

"Yah I have friends too you know!"

"Sure sure, whatever."

"Psh. Sure Chaewon, we can train tonight."

"M-Make sure they have enough space," Chaewon whispers, the two of them turning as red as Yunjin's hair. Thankfully, Yunjin is talking loudly, complaining about how her phone doesn't recognize her voice commands, and their manager agreeing that AI is stupid.

Oh how wrong they are.

A/N: I was actually writing a different story, and this one was supposed to be just a Sakura solo thing to use their song title "Smart" and poke fun at smart houses, but then the thought of Chaewon walking in on her and getting roped into it together was too hot and I had to get it out. I mixed the Guilty Pleasure concept (one person feels the other person via something) with the whole tech and smart house thing. The velvet wrap thing is kinda like a weighted blanket, and supposed to mimic the weight of an actual person pressing on you during sex, but I didn't really use it too well, in my head it just helps with positions too, don't think too hard about that part lol. Anyways hope it makes enough sense, thanks for reading!

#smut #le sserafim #sakura #chaewon

732 notes · View notes

pipsyy · 15 days ago

Text

detestable...

enemies to lovers dom!hamzah x f!reader

hi everyone! i have had the most absolutely terrible writer's block recently, which is why this fic has taken so long. but i hope you enjoy regardless! please send me reqs if you have them!

summary: y/n absolutely hates hamzah, detests him, actually. until one day, when that undeniable feeling of angers burns into an even hotter flame.

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUTTY SMUTTING SMUT SMOT! DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

word count: 3066

You loved your life. Your home, your animals, your friends, your youtube channel, everything. There was nothing about your life that irked you. Except for one thing. Him. Hamzah. You had become friends with Mandy over two years ago, over similar interests and styles of youtube channels, and had met Hamzah about six months into your friendship with her. You had never met somebody like him before. You got along with everyone, even if they slightly pissed you off, you were able to stomach their presence and create minimal amounts of respectable small talk. But not with Hamzah. In fact, when you were first invited over to Mandy’s house for a party and heard he was going to be there, you were excited. You had seen his online presence and thought he was funny, charming, and kind, only to find out upon meeting him that the complete opposite was the truth. He was awkward, and weird, and nothing at all like you thought he would be. The two of you were unable to mesh a single comfortable conversation together and, since then, you had effectively avoided him like the plague.

The angry tension between the two of you finally exploded one Friday night. You had been invited to dinner at Mandy’s house, and you were ecstatic. You imagined your night playing out with the two of you cooking and baking delicious food, sharing some with Martin in his man-cave, then diving into the delicacies in front of a cozy fall movie. What you did not expect was Hamzah to be there.

“Hey, y/n!” Mandy said excitedly, as she opened the door and welcomed you into her home. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Oh my god,” you said, grasping her hands in yours. “You have no idea! I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” You took your shoes off before following the brunette into the kitchen. The two of you were laughing and talking until you stopped dead in the middle of the kitchen, starting out towards the living room. Two male heads were positioned together on the couch, one with straight, almost black, locks and the other with luscious, dark curls. You would recognize those curls anywhere. Shit.

You grabbed Mandy by her forearm and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t know he would be here.”

“Who?” she asked cluelessly, swiveling her head to where your wide-eyed gaze was fixated upon. “Oh, right…Hamzah. Martin and him filmed a video today and he’s not leaving until later. I’m so sorry, y/n. I really tried to get him out of the house, but he insisted on staying for dinner.” You knew that Hamzah liked to rile you up, he made it abundantly clear whenever the two of you would have a conversation.

“He just wants to piss me off,” you responded. “It’s okay. We can just ignore them and have fun.” Mandy smiled at you. The two of you began gathering items and ingredients from around the kitchen to make the dinner. You had decided on making fettuccine alfredo with broccoli and chicken over text with pumpkin cream cheese cupcakes for dessert. The two of you labored over the pasta for almost an hour, laughing and giggling over every single thing. The boys mainly kept to themselves, occasionally laughing softly at the game they were playing on the TV. You paused from stirring the cheesy sauce, simmering softly in the pan.

“You can go ahead and combine this sauce with the pasta, Mandy,” you said, nudging the brunette girl with your elbow. “I’m going to head to the bathroom real quick.” You went to the bathroom down the hall and completed your business, flushing the toilet and washing your hands. As you exited the bathroom, you ran right into a pair of broad, muscular shoulders. You look up, an apology bubbling from your lips, until you meet a pair of wide, dark eyes: Hamzah. His eyes narrow and his brow furrows. Your lips curl into a sneer, the close proximity of him causing hot, red anger to flare in your chest. The two of you attempt to get around each other, moving in sync. This annoying act continued until Hamzah’s large hands grip your waist and practically lifted you up, moving you out of his way. He continued down the hallway to the guest room without looking back, leaving you stunned into silence in the middle of the hallway. Your waist tingled lightly where his hands had touched you. The way his large hands were able to almost completely engulf your waist, followed by how effortlessly he had lifted you, caused inappropriate, unwanted thoughts to flow through your mind. You shook your head, internally scolding yourself for your rash behavior. When you reunited with Mandy in the kitchen, she gave you a confused look.

“You okay?” she asked. No doubt your silent demeanor and red face giving away some of your internal embarrassment.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded, unconvincingly.

“You sure?” she pressed. “I saw Hamzah leave and I just thought–”

“Yes!” you snapped, cutting her off. “I am perfectly fine.” You ran a hand through your hair and Mandy laughed, shaking her head at your idiocy.

“If you say so, girl.” The night continued smoothly once you had calmed yourself down from your strained interaction with Hamzah. The pasta was cheesy and delicious, followed by the brownies which were sweet and rich with chocolate. Mandy shared the brownies with the two boys, Martin full of compliments and praise for the two of you, while Hamzah enjoyed his in silence, glancing at you every so often with a wide-eyed stare that made you feel both uncomfortable and anxious. Throughout the night, Martin and Mandy exchanged coy looks, giggling under their breath at something that seemed to you like an inside joke, but you were unsure. Finally, you reached your breaking point, and blurted out your confusion at the couple’s strange attitude.

“What the hell are you two plotting?” you asked. The couple exchanged a knowing look, smirking at each other.

“Plotting?” Mandy repeated. “We’re not plotting anything.”

“I know you are,” you said.

To your utter surprise, Hamzah chimed in in agreement. “Yeah,” he said, mouth full of brownie. “You’re both acting so weird. What’s going on?”

Mandy gave Martin another weird look, the two nodding at each other in joint agreement. “Well…” Mandy said. “There’s this movie that Martin and I have been dying to see and it comes out today. We’re going to leave to see it now.”

“And we know that the two of you have some unsettled differences,” Martin chimed in. “So while we go out to see this movie, the two of you are going to stay here and figure them out.”

“Are you serious, Mandy?” you said, exasperation at this situation obvious in your voice. You glanced at Hamzah who had undeniable shock plastered all over his face. “No…” you said, as the couple began to pack up their things and pull their shoes on in quick succession. “No, no, you’re not doing this.”

“We’ll just leave the house, Martin,” Hamzah said.

“We’re locking the two of you in,” the brunette replied. “You’re not getting out this easy. The way you two absolutely despise each other pisses us off. So, you’re both not leaving until you have established some sort of mutual camaraderie or something like it. Understand?” You and Hamzah stood up from the table in protest, but it was too late, Mandy and Martin left the house in sync, locking the door from the outside. The two of you were trapped, together and alone, for an uncomfortable, inestimable amount of hours. You let out a sigh of pure frustration, understanding that the following couple of hours were going to be the most uncomfortable and angry you had felt in a while.

“Well, shit,” Hamzah said, sitting back down and folding his arms across his broad chest.

You rolled your eyes. “This is fucking ridiculous,” you said. “There’s no way I’m doing this.” You get up and pace the wooden floor, head lowered as you think of all the ways you could escape Hamzah and his brown-eyed gaze that you could feel following your every move.

“Oh, come on,” he said, standing up from his seat. He moved in front of you, blocking your path, looking down at you with a facetious smirk that boiled your blood. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said, maneuvering around the larger man. “It can and it is.” Hamzah reached out, fast as lightning, and grabbed your forearm. The slight touch sent undeniable shivers down your spine, which you hated. He turned you around to face him, the two of you inches from one another. You gazed down at his hand, still wrapped around your forearm.

“Am I really that detestable to you, y/n?” he asked, voice at a decibel so low you had to crane your ears to even hear him. The inches between the two of you began closing, his eyes—so brown they looked black—drawing you closer. Dark, seductive images flitted through your mind: Hamzah’s large hands gripping your waist, his lips on your neck, hands fisting your hair, gripping your throat, touching your cunt. Shocked, you wretch your forearm out of his grasp.

“Yes,” you breathed out, chest heaving, mind reeling from your stupid imagination and wandering mind. “You are that detestable.”

“Really?” Hamzah asked, voice no louder than a whisper. You realized as your back hit the wall that he had backed you into a both physical and mental corner. You gulped as he drew closer and closer. “Because—I think—you like to think of me as something more than just detestable.”

“I don’t like to think of you at all, Hamzah,” you said, skin burning as his dark eyes remained locked on yours, unyielding in their direct gaze.

“You don’t?” he said, scoffing. He leaned closer, lips practically brushing yours. His large hands maneuver to grip your waist, and you don’t even try to stop him. “Not at all, huh. Not even at night, when you’re alone in your bed.” His grip on your waist tightened and shockwaves of undeniable pleasure flash through your spine like needles. “Cause I do. All the fucking time.” You look up at him, eyes widened in shock. He curses, the grip on your waist tightening so hard you thought it would bruise. “Don’t,” he said, voice rough and gravely. “Don’t fucking look at me like that…or I’m going to do something we both will regret.”

You had never expected to feel this way about Hamzah. But seeing him—a man so stupid and narcissistic and haughty—reduced to this…reduced to a quivering mess of a man with needy desperation written all over him, you felt that you couldn’t help yourself. You whimpered as your core tightened. Your back brushed the wall and Hamzah leaned impossibly closer, chest brushing against your own.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me you don’t want this.” You froze, the repeated words brushing your lips, bubbling up inside you. But you couldn’t lie. You couldn’t say them. For deep down inside you, in a place you had buried since you got to know him, lay the dirty, red-hot truth. You wanted him too, equally as bad. Your shaking hands, puppeteered not by your brain, but by that stupid feeling deep in your heart, reached up to intertwine behind Hamzah’s neck, grasping at the delicate curls at his nape. Hamzah’s eyes widened at the realization that you weren’t backing away.

“I can’t,” you confessed. Hamzah, lips quivering with desire, leaned closer, brushing your soft and plush mouth with his own. Unable to contain your palpitating desire, you tightened your grip on his curls and pulled him into you, pressing your lips violently together. Your lips locked together, a wet mess of tongue and spit as you desperately clung to each other. Hamzah’s hands ran up and down your body, unsure of what part of you he wanted to touch first, desperate for everything, all at once. He separated from your lips, and you let out a needy, unfiltered whine at the lack of contact. Hamzah began kissing down your neck, suckling on that sweet spot behind your ear that made you cry out in pleasure.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, in between open-mouthed kisses planted on your neck. “You have no fucking idea what you do to me.” You whimpered at the blunt confession, hands yanking at his curls. His hands grabbed at your ass, lifting you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Hamzah roughly pushed you up against the wall, lips connecting with your own again. You yanked at his t-shirt and he paused his motions, pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere in the room. You came face-to-face with his body, ribbed and muscular from his time in the gym, while also maintaining enough tummy to make your thighs squeeze together. You mirror his movements, pulling your tanktop off and shucking your sweats down your legs, leaving you in your bra and underwear. Hamzah looks at you starstruck.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, reaching to grasp at your covered tits. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.” You giggled slightly, a gesture that never occurred to you would happen with Hamzah. Hamzah sunk down to his knees, leaving little kisses along your stomach and the underside of your tits. Kissing and biting your inner thighs, he dragged your underwear down your legs, mouth agape as you came face-to-face with your soaking cunt. He looked up at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated, and you felt your knees weaken. Hamzah grabbed one of your thighs after the other, wrapping your legs around his shoulders practically sitting on him, leaning against the wall. He continued to leave little kisses along your legs, suckling purple bruises onto your inner thighs.

“Hamzah–” you whine, tightening your grip in his curls.

“Use your words, y/n,” he said, looking up at you through his thick eyelashes.

“I need you,” you say, your desperation overwhelming your embarrassment and confusion. Hamzah smirked up at you, before shoving his head deep between your thighs. He licked a long strip up your folds, holding eye contact with you, before circling his tongue around your clit. As his tongue connected with your sensitive bud, you let out a long moan, head tilting back against the wall. Hamzah ate you out like it was his last meal, licking, sucking, and slurping your juices in a constant state of desperation for more. You felt yourself coming closer and closer to your climax, hands tightening his hair as his nose rubbed deep into your clit. You came with a cry, legs shaking around his head as you shuddered and convulsed, white spots bedazzling your vision.

Hamzah lifted you up, wrapping your legs back around his waist and kissed you, mouth stained with your juices. You tasted yourself on his tongue and moaned at the feel of his tongue poking its way into your mouth.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he whispered. “You have no idea how bad I wanted you.”

“Hamzah—” you panted. “I need you inside of me.” He reached down into his pants, pulling out his hard member, stroking it a few times before rubbing it up and down your wet folds. He slid into you with a gasp, the two of you moaning at the feel of him sheathed inside of you. He began slowly thrusting in and out of you, the stretch of his thick cock inside your cunt drawing whimpers from deep in your throat. While your eyes rolled back into your head from the pleasure, Hamzah never broke eye contact.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” he said. “You hate me, huh?”

You whimper in response.

“Yeah, you hate me…but you’re still here, being fucked by this cock, huh?” You couldn’t respond, the only sound flowing from you being heady whines and high-pitched moans. You felt yourself inching closer towards another release, one of your hands reaching between your legs to rub your clit. One of Hamzah’s hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing slightly, you realized with a jolt that he was holding you up with one hand. The fact that this man could hold you up and fuck you so good with just the strength of one arm made your core tighten.

“I–I’m gonna cum, Hamzah,” you manage to cry out, dangerously tipping on the precipice of release.

“Oh, yeah?” Hamzah responded breathlessly. “You gonna cum, baby? Shit. Cum for me, pretty girl.” You cum with a strangled yelp falling from your lips.

“Good girl,” Hamzah moaned out, hips beginning to stutter. “Good girl, so pretty, so fucking pretty for me.” Your hands grabbed onto his curls tightly, yanking as you came down from your high. The feel of his dark strands being pulled so tightly sent Hamzah over the edge. Hips stuttering as he came, head buried deep into your neck, he let out a flurry of whimpers and praises. The two of you sat there for a minute, Hamzah breathing heavily into your neck. Just then, you heard the jangle and clank of keys outside of the door. Hamzah’s eyes locked onto yours, wide with shock and fear.

“Shit,” you say. Untangling your limbs, the two of you rushed to dress in five seconds flat. You threw yourselves onto the couch, sitting on opposite ends just as Mandy and Martin opened the door and returned.

“The cinema was closed, guys,” Martin announced as he took off his coat and boots, Mandy close behind him. “Did you at least make up though?”

“Yeah, we did,” Hamzah responded, voice still rough and breathless. The couple finally came into your view, cheeks and ears red from the outside wind. You knew that the two of you were a strange sight: clothes rumpled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and something dirtier. You also knew that, ever the observer, it would be Mandy to notice.

“Oh my god!” she said, covering her shocked face with a hand. “OH MY GOD, MARTIN!” She yanked on his sleeve, jumping up and down.

“What?!” he asked. “I don’t get it.”

“They fucked, holy shit, they fucked,” she laughed and giggled, jumping up and down with glee. “You owe me a hundred dollars, Martin.”

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah x reader smut #hamzah x y/n #hamzah x you #hamzahfic #hamzahimagines #hamzahthefantastic x reader #slushynoobz #youtube #pleaseineedhimsobadithurts

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slytherinslut0 · 1 year ago

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty One-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Angst, SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Degradation Kink, Fingering, Teasing, Multiple Orgasm, Corruption Kink, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Sadism, Gagging, PIV, Semi-Public Sex, Fighting/Bickering, Hatefucking(slightly).

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

The burden of Dumbledore's trust pressed down on your shoulders, a weighty responsibility that only seem to intensify as you and Mattheo emerged from his office. The meeting had been long and painstakingly detailed, each word etched with the gravity of the situation as you finalized all the details for your first ever mentorship, an opportunity you’ve been waiting fucking years for.

You should be excited about this arrangement, you should be completely fucking ecstatic to finally be given the chance to truly prove yourself, but as Mattheo pulled ahead of you; a heavy, unspoken tension hung in the air as you trailed behind him, your footsteps echoing like distant thunderclaps in the quiet corridor. Mattheo's brisk, determined stride, while partially obscured by his usual arrogance, mirrored the barely-restrained, silent fury that simmered within him. The annoyance in his demeanor was tangible, a seething anger that could be felt even from a distance.

Anxiety coursed through your veins, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on your shoulders. This wasn't just about Mattheo's future (one of which you did have a genuine care for, if you were being truthful with yourself); but your own credibility as a mentor was intricately woven into this journey as well.

Dumbledore's words reverberated in your mind, emphasizing the need for patience and compassion, urging Mattheo to embrace your guidance with open arms. However, his response was nothing more than an irritated eye roll, a silent rebellion that contrasted sharply with Dumbledore's hopes for cooperation.

Casting a fleeting glance at Mattheo's back, you couldn't ignore the stark contrast between his outwardly confident posture and the storm of emotions undoubtedly churning beneath the surface. It was evident that this arrangement had ignited a furious turmoil within him, even though he had begrudgingly agreed to it for your sake. The palpable displeasure he felt was impossible to overlook, a tension that hung in the air, threatening to shatter the fragile balance you both were attempting to maintain.

It was then, that you knew, the second you two finally decided to speak to each other, it was bound to be nothing other than completely fucking nuclear.

Entering the bustling Great Hall, you continued to follow timidly in Mattheo's wake, nervously clutching your books to your chest as though they were a impenetrable shield that could save you from this mess. An uneasy anticipation settled within you, bracing for the awkward stares and confused glances you were certain to receive from his housemates as you followed him to his table. But all to your surprise, the usually lively space resembled a ghost town at this early hour, thankfully devoid of his friends for the time being.

Taking a deep, shallow breath, you hesitantly settled into the spot on the bench beside him, feeling entirely like a fish out of water. The clatter of cutlery and distant murmurs of conversations taking place at the other tables filled the hall, yet an oppressive silence gripped you and Mattheo like a vice. His eyes, usually sharp and commanding, now held a darker, more guarded shade. A momentary glance flickered toward you before he locked his gaze onto his breakfast, his jaw clenched with a stubborn resolve.

Only a few weeks, you reminded yourself, trying to muster the courage to face what lay ahead. Surely, you could endure that, couldn't you?

"Look, Mattheo," you began cautiously, your voice a fragile whisper amidst the bustling ambiance. "I understand you're not happy about this, but it's just for a few weeks...I-"

"Don't bother, Raven," he interrupted with a low, dismissive growl, his tone laced with bitterness. "Don't concern yourself with my feelings. Just go on and conduct your experiments like I'm some little fucking lab rat, alright? I'll even lie down and make it easier for you."

His words struck you like a physical blow, leaving your chest constricted, the air escaping your lungs. The already palpable tension between you two seemed to tighten, intensifying the daunting challenge that lay ahead. You knew nothing about this arrangement was going to be easy--as the only time Mattheo ever seemed to open up to you, was when he wanted you to open up to him, physically.

"Gods, the only thing comparable to a lab rat is your fragile fucking ego," you grumbled, your voice laced with frustration and irritation. "And I'm not sure if you're aware, but the only bloody reason I'm here right now is precisely to concern myself with your feelings."

"Oh, spare me your noble intentions," Mattheo retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The only reason you're here is for yourself...Dumbledore isn't around, you can drop the fucking act."

You released a long, heavy sigh, Mattheo's words striking a chord within you. The snark that had initially fueled your response halfway dissipated, leaving behind a sense of resignation.

You gently shifted to face him. "I'm fucking sorry, alright? Is that what you want to hear?"

"Sorry for what, Raven?" Mattheo's piercing gaze met yours, his fingers clenching the fork in his hand with a dangerous intensity, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "Huh? What exactly are you fucking sorry for?"

You paused, taking a moment to contemplate your response. You understood that the mess you both found yourselves in was entirely of your doing. If only you had kept your mouth shut, refrained from provoking Berkshire so fiercely, perhaps neither of you would be entangled in this chaos. But there was no reversing the clock now; you were here, and there was no escaping the consequences. This was the defining point, the test that would determine whether you and Mattheo were destined for more than whatever the fuck you currently were, or if this really was all just some crash and burn type of secret fling.

"Sorry for yourself? Sorry for me?" He snarled, impatience colouring his tone as he shot the words at you like daggers. The veins in his hands bulged, revealing the intensity of his frustration. Your heart pounded, acutely aware of the boiling anger he exuded. "Or perhaps you're sorry for being unable to keep your mouth shut for longer then five goddamn seconds?"

"Be an asshole to me all you fucking want, Mattheo," you snapped, your tone cutting through the tension like a knife. "But I'm on your side here...I won't back down just because you're too bloody stubborn-"

"Give me a fucking break, Raven." Mattheo snarled, cutting you off abruptly, his voice dripping with cynicism. "You act like you're some divine oracle, dispensing wisdom to the masses."

"Men mock the Gods until they need them," you countered, your voice unwavering, meeting his cynical gaze head-on. "But even the greatest Gods can learn humility when faced with the consequences of their actions."

"Oh, now the perfect little princess wants to lecture me on humility, does she?" His eyes darkened, the clatter of his fork against the plate reverberating in the tense atmosphere--an echo that would have made you flinch on any ordinary day, but your anger shielded you from the noise. Your stare bored into his as he shifted, fully facing you. "I might be the black sheep of my family, but I've seen enough to know that some of those supposed white sheep aren't as fucking pure as they pretend to be..."

Your heart pounded fiercely, well aware of his underlying intentions. Steely determination set your shoulders rigid, refusing to let him chip away at your resolve. His attempts to manipulate the conversation only fueled your determination; you wouldn't allow him to twist the narrative in his favour. This was a battle of wits, and you were more than ready to hold your ground.

"Appearances certainly can be deceiving, can't they, Riddle?" You leaned closer, voice dropping. "How about we skip the mind games, and you answer me this...is a monster born a monster, or is it created?"

"Why don't you tell me, Raven?" He said, jaw clenching as he lowered his voice to a deep grumble. "I think you'd know a little too well how monsters are made, wouldn't you?"

You squinted at him. "Care to elaborate?"

A malicious grin curled on Mattheo's lips, his eyes narrowing with malevolence as he swiftly surveyed the room, ensuring the shield of privacy around you both, before fixing his gaze back on yours. Your palms turned clammy, a sheen of sweat prickling your skin, your heartbeats echoing like war drums in your chest. An unsettling anticipation hung in the air, as if Mattheo teetered on the edge of revealing something, something you were far from ready to confront.

“No,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t…” you grumbled, running a trembling hand through your hair as you tried to steady your heart rate. “Gods, you’re going to be the fucking death of me.”

A long, exasperated sigh escaped your lips, your eyes never leaving Mattheo’s profile as he turned away, his attention refocused on his breakfast. Anger churned beneath your skin, a turbulent storm of frustration and confusion.

"I can't fathom what twisted events in your life turned you into such an asshole," you continued, your voice seething with frustration. "You're deflecting, like you always do, but this isn't about me, Mattheo. This is about you…I struggle to imagine who the fuck could have made you this way.”

Mattheo’s face immediately whipped back to face yours, the tendons in his hands tightening, like a noose prepared specially for your neck.

"No one made me, Raven. I made myself," he hissed, his eyes ablaze with a fierce determination, as if he was challenging you to understand the depth of his struggle, as if he figured you’d never, ever be able to relate. "When you're not fed love off a silver fucking spoon, you learn to lick it off knives."

His voice held a bitter resignation, a raw emotion behind his words, as if born from years of resilience in the face of hardship. Your contemplation was evident, your eyes scanning his face, picking up on the subtle hint of emotion behind his angry facade. His words struck a chord, hitting a little too close to home, but you’d never let him know it, not when he’s being like this.

After a moment of silence, you responded, your tone sharp. "Right...but I think you fail to realize just how quickly the blade becomes you, hm?"

“I wouldn’t expect the rich little princess to understand,” he muttered, his voice a low growl, contorted with annoyance. “You’ll never know what it’s like to have to claw your way through life, Raven...to not have everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter…”

“You have no fucking idea what I’ve gone through…” you hissed, teeth barred as you tried to suppress your irritation. “Don’t you dare mistake my empathy for ignorance.”

Mattheo's intense gaze lingered on your lips for a moment before flickering back to your eyes. His voice, barely audible, was laced with a mix of curiosity and a still seething frustration.

"Why don't you tell me then?" he whispered, the words hanging in the charged air between you. "Why don't you fucking tell me what you've been through?"

You blinked, searching his face for a trace of sincerity, but found none. His expression remained unyielding, a mask of stoic resolve. His eyes, however, burned with a furious energy that left you unsettled, forcing you to question the authenticity of this conversation. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions surged within you--anger, frustration, empathy, and a profound desire to understand him.

You felt torn between conflicting impulses. One part of you longed to grab him, to shake the truth out of him, to make him see that you were on his side. Another part of you yearned to envelop him in a comforting embrace, promising that things would get better, that he didn't have to carry his burdens alone. But the reality was stark. Mattheo's resilience had become a fortress, impenetrable and unyielding.

You wanted to help him, to ease his pain, but every attempt to reach out seemed to ricochet off his emotional armor. The frustration boiled within you, making you want to unleash your own pent-up emotions.

"Why would I tell you anything, Mattheo?" you whispered, your voice edged with a mixture of bitterness and disappointment. "Why would I open up to you when you’re still treating me like I’m your fucking enemy? You can't expect me to break down my walls when you're the one building yours higher with every bloody word…”

Mattheo’s gaze flickered with a blend of frustration and resignation as he absorbed your words. He let out a frustrated sigh, his tensed shoulders slumping momentarily before he met your eyes again.

“So, where do we fucking go from here, Raven?” he asked, his voice tinged with weariness. “If neither of us are willing to lower our guard, if all we’re destined to do is fight, how are we supposed to endure weeks together like this?”

You paused, your eyes examining the complicated boy before you, capturing every detail like an artist studying their muse. Mattheo’s hair, perfectly tousled in its disarray, seemed to hold secrets of its own, a testament to the storms that raged beneath the surface. His lips, plush and enticing, had the power to both infuriate and enthrall, a dichotomy that left you perpetually off balance. But it was the scars that adorned his skin, each one telling a story of battles fought and won, that drew your attention most. You had come to know and appreciate these marks, understanding that they were not just physical remnants but echoes of the struggles he had endured.

This complex boy had become an enigma you couldn’t unravel, a puzzle that intrigued and frustrated you in equal measure. He had managed to ignite a storm within you, a tempest of emotions that you had never experienced before. Anger, desire, frustration, and a strange kind of empathy blended into a tumultuous mix, leaving you unable to tear your eyes away.

As your gaze traced the contours of his jawline, your fingertips ached to explore the texture of his skin. Your eyes traveled lower, lingering on the strength of his shoulders, admiring the resilience that lay beneath the surface. A warmth spread within you, a contradictory feeling of tenderness and yearning, as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the depth of your emotions.

Finally, your eyes met his once more, locking onto his with a fierce intensity.

“Business as usual, Mattheo,” you whispered, a teasing smirk dancing on your lips. “Time to put all this pent-up energy to better use before we fucking tear each others’ heads off…” you said, turning away from him and gathering your books off the table, grabbing your bag before returning your eyes to his, noting his subtle confusion. “Meet me in the bathroom. Same one as before.”

Pushing up from the table, you strode out of the great hall with purpose, a tempest of emotions raging within you. Infuriation, irritation, frustration, and anger churned inside, seeking an outlet. You seethed at Mattheo for his obstinance, berated yourself for caring so deeply, and raged at the inevitability that all this effort might lead absolutely fucking nowhere.

You weren’t naïve enough to simply forget about the mountains looming between you, insurmountable obstacles casting shadows over any potential future. The weight of it all felt bone-crushing, yet despite the turmoil, a desperate longing remained--to kiss that infuriating boy's face, even amidst the chaos he so eagerly fucking caused you.

In the intimate confines of the bathroom, the soft glow of the overhead light illuminated your way as your textbooks found their place, haphazardly strewn across the counter, your bag slumped against the floor--all before Mattheo, his eyes ablaze with desire, stepped into the room alongside you. With a swift motion, he turned the lock, ensuring your seclusion from the outside world.

The air crackled with tension as Mattheo’s urgency consumed him. His hands, possessing a rough yet sensual touch, claimed your skin--wasting absolutely zero fucking time as his fingers traced fiery patterns over your hips and up your sides, moving expertly to undo the buttons of your uniform shirt. It was as if he were a wild beast, untamed and hungry, tearing apart its prey with both hunger and reverence. In response, your own hands, guided by a mix of passion and ferocity , mirrored his movements, exploring the firm contours of his bare chest as it came into view.

“Fuck, I’ve absolutely ruined you, haven’t I…” Mattheo growled, his eyes dark pools of intensity, holding you captive. With deliberate purpose, he discarded your uniform shirt, letting the fabric cascade to the floor in a whispering descent, finding its place along with his. “You never could resist me…not even when you’re fucking furious with me…”

“Gods, Mattheo…you’re such an arrogant bastard…” you spat out, even as you clung to him desperately, his lips attacking your neck as he bunched your skirt between his fists, his tall frame pressing you against the wall with hungry force. “I’m just sick of the arguing and bickering over nothing…let’s just shut up, fuck, and get this bullshit out of our fucking systems…”

“I’ll shut you up alright…but you might fucking moan a little…” Mattheo groaned, fingers slipping under your panties and quickly teasing over your clit, forcing a loud cry from your throat that he quickly silenced with his mouth.

You both were breathless, the intensity quickly reaching its boiling point, the anger palpable between your bodies as Mattheo’s lips pressed against yours with a fierce urgency, the collision of your teeth a tangible echo of the raw desire between you. The air seemed to vanish, leaving your lungs gasping for the oxygen that eluded them, as if consumed by the fervor of your connection. Mattheo’s fingers were relentless, quickly building you toward climax without mercy as his other hand kneaded your chest, groping your tits, pulling down you bra to tease your nipples, pinching the hardening buds between his rough fingers.

As you moaned, far louder than you’d intended, he claimed your bottom lip between his teeth, his growls resonating with a furious energy that matched the fervent tempo of your bodies. Your response was instinctual, a desperate squirming under his touch, your nails finding purchase in the supple flesh of his back, grounding you in the intensity of the moment.

“That’s it,” Mattheo growled, the pace of his fingers increasing as he sensed your impending climax. “You want to cum for me, don’t you, little slut…you might hate me but this little pussy will always fucking crave my touch…”

"Gods, you're bloody insufferable," you managed to gasp, your words tinged with exasperation. Yet, your body betrayed your irritation, responding to his expert ministrations despite your verbal defiance. "Always so fucking smug."

“Yeah?” Mattheo’s chuckle resonated through the charged atmosphere, a dark, smoldering sound that sent shivers down your spine while his fingers remained relentless in their pursuit, pushing you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. “And yet here you are, about to let me fuck you against the bathroom wall…”

“Oh-fuck…Mattheo…” in the face of his undeniable truth, your snarky retorts faded into nothingness, overpowered by the overwhelming force of desire that gripped you. “Fuck…fuck-y-you…”

Mattheo’s touch was a symphony of urgency, his free hand exploring every inch of your skin as if he sought to possess all of you at once. His mouth captured yours in a fierce, devouring kiss, leaving you breathless and gasping for air, refusing to allow you to pull away, to separate from him for even a second. With hardly two more quickly swirls over your clit, he forced you over the edge, your climax rippling through your body, your moans caught by Mattheo’s mouth as he continued to work his lips over yours, groaning in response to feeling your body break for him.

As your pleasure peaked and began to ebb away, Mattheo’s own desire surged to the forefront. With a low growl emanating from his chest, he withdrew his fingers from your slick heat and then forced them relentlessly into your mouth, pressing them past your lips and deep into your throat. He spun you around with urgency, thrusting you against the wall as his free hand worked to free his pulsing erection. It was an exhibition of pure dominance, a physical manifestation of his unapologetic hunger.

Pumping his fist furiously over his length, he thrust his fingers further into your mouth, eliciting moans of both pleasure and pain as you gagged on them. Without hesitation, he aligned himself with your core and slammed into you with all his might, driving himself deep inside you with a violence that left you shaking and screaming out against his fingers. Every inch of him stretched and filled you in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head, you fingers digging into the wall as fought to steady your breathing.

And as he began to pound into you, fucking you like you deserved the pain, you could almost feel the tension melting away, replaced by a deep satisfying heat that left you gasping for more.

"Shit, you're such a fucking bitch," Mattheo cursed between gasping breaths, pulling his fingers from your mouth and gripping your jaw as his free hand dug into your hip. "But fuck, this tight little pussy is perfect for my fucking cock, isn't it?"

"Ah-fuck…you know," you spat out, rolling your eyes as his fingers dug into your skin. "…I hate that you're so fucking good at this."

Mattheo sneered cockily, the sound echoing off the tiles of the bathroom, mingling with the rhythm of slapping skin and breathless moans. "Fuck, Raven…you’re a pain in the fucking ass, but at least you know how to take a good fucking..."

“Oh-fuck…barely…” you retorted, wincing as your body shuddered from his deep thrusts, Mattheo’s grip on your jaw tightening, his pace entirely animalistic. “Why do you have to be so fucking big? You--ah--you’re going to fucking break me…”

Mattheo’s eyes flashed dangerously at your words, and he pushed harder, deeper inside you. "That's fucking right…I told you I’d be the ruin of you Raven…” he growled, his voice torn with pleasure. “You fucking love it when I fuck you like this, don't you? You love the way it feels when I'm balls deep inside this tight little cunt…”

"Mmm…you're such an asshole," you groaned, your vision blurring and your lungs reaching for air. "But-fuck-I…I guess you have your uses..."

Mattheo’s grip on your body was unrelenting as he pounded into you with a ferocity that took your breath away. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving imprints that burned with the heat of your pleasure. His sneer only made you all the more aroused, the way he spoke to you with such condescension ignited a fire deep within you that you wished you could fucking ignore. With each thrust, your body jolted with sensation, building up until you were practically vibrating with need.

"Oh, yeah?" he spat back, sweat glistening on his forehead as he pressed you harder into the wall. "Well, I guess you're not completely useless either…you do a perfect fuckin’ job at being my dumb little slut…”

“Oh, fuck-Gods…you’re-…” you gasped out, feeling Mattheo’s fingers graze over your hip and descend towards your core. As his skilled digits made contact with your clit, your body jolted with pleasure, your eyes rolling back in ecstasy. His touch was quick and frantic, tracing tight circles over your clit that felt like they were set to push you to the brink of madness. “You’re such an asshole…”

Your pussy clamped down around his length in response to his ministrations. Your mind was awash in a sea of sensation, each touch and thrust sending waves of rapture coursing through your body. Mattheo only smirked, his lips finding your neck as he continued to pound into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

"You love it," Mattheo grumbled, burying his face in your hair as he thrust into you again and again. “You fucking love it…”

"Do not," you protested weakly, your voice cracking with pleasure as you felt your orgasm building inside you at a dangerously fast rate. “I-I…oh-fuck-fuck…”

Despite your bravado, you found yourself getting swept up in the raw intensity of your love-hate situationship, feelings of bliss and fury intermingling as Mattheo continued to pound into you, his fingers working your clit with experienced precision. You couldn't help but think how strange it was--that this same person who drove you so insane could also be the one who pushed you over the edge on the complete other side of the spectrum, all with his cock and fingers.

“Yeah…yeah that’s right…” Mattheo’s breaths were hot and ragged against the back of your neck as he pounded into you mercilessly, overwhelming you with the sheer force of his carnal need. “You’re going to cum on my fucking cock, princess…it’s inevitable, just let it happen…”

As Mattheo’s breaths scorched your neck, his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the orgasm edging closer. You snarled back at him, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "oh, Gods--fuck…let me just fuel that f-fucking ego of yours some more…”

But even as your walls tightened around him, you knew it was true. Your body was building to climax, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. All pretense of control and decorum had been lost, replaced instead with raw, unfiltered lust. You were nothing but a vehicle for his pleasure, a way for him to sate his burning desire, but he was that exact thing for you as well.

Even while the two of you were pulsing with anger at each other, he couldn’t resist the urge to give you the most pleasure out of this possible, reducing you to a mere pile of putty at his feet.

And you couldn’t hold off any longer. “Fuck-Mattheo!”

Your walls clenched around his cock, waves of pleasure washing over you, threatening to drown you entirely as Mattheo’s fingers swirled furiously against your clit, his free hand leaving your jaw and clamping over your mouth to muffle your screams as you shattered against his cock, your pussy milking him for every last ounce of ecstasy possible. Mattheo seemed to fucking love this, letting out a deep, predatory growl as he continued to fuck you through your high.

His fingers never stopped their assault on your clit, working you relentlessly as he thrust deeper and harder. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your ear.

“There we go…let it all out, baby…” his words sent shivers down your spine as your orgasm continued to pulse through your body, making it hard to think or or breathe or speak. “…you were made for this fucking cock, no one compares to you…”

His words sparked heat in your veins, gasping for breath beneath his palm as he finally pulled his fingers from your clit, bringing them up to your chest, groping your tits as he continued slamming into you, his pace erratic, his hips sputtering as he veered closer to his high, holding you firm to his chest, fingers digging into your cheek with intense possession.

“Mm…fucking hell…” Mattheo growled, the sound of his groan reverberating through your entire body as he breathed it directly against your ear, the words torn with lust. “I knew you’d be a good fuck but I didn’t know you’d be this fucking good…shit-“

Mattheo’s hips stalled for a moment as he let out a low, guttural groan--finally reaching his own aggressive climax. The sensation of him filling you up set off another wave of pleasure, and you moaned softly under his palm, your walls involuntarily clenching around him as he pumped you full of his release, his muscles contracting and breath sputtering against your neck as he finished.

For a moment, Mattheo remained there, his cock buried inside you, his hold on you still tight and unyielding as you both worked to catch your breath, his hand slowly sliding away from your mouth and travelling down to cup your jaw, directing your head to the side to meet his lips, capturing you in a feather soft kiss.

“You can tell me all your secrets Raven…I promise they’re safe with me…” he murmured against your mouth, his voice a soft breeze carrying the weight of his sincerity. “…but you won’t get anything out of me...it’d be wise if you stopped trying.”

The impact of his words hit you like a heavy blow, settling in your chest like a fifty-pound brick. Gathering your strength, you steadied your breathing as he finally released his grip, pulling away from you. Frustration etched across your features as you spun around to face him, your brows knitting in impending irritation as you watched him deftly fasten his belt, the metallic click echoing in the charged silence of the room. With a swift gesture, he reached for your shirts, discarded on the floor, and passed you yours with a stoic glance.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice laced with vulnerability, almost scared of his answer. “Why do you insist on being so fucking guarded…so fucking cold? You know this mentorship is literally all about working through your issues, right?”

“You said you wanted me, Raven…” his voice was low, almost a whisper, and he didn’t dare to look at you.

Your confusion grew, the anxiety pooling in your chest grew too. “I-I do…”

“Then take what you fucking get.” He snapped, his head whipping toward you, anger rekindling in his dark eyes. “You’re already in my head…I can’t let you get any fucking further…”

Your lungs stalled, your breath hitched. You could hardly blink. “Mattheo-“

“No--see, this is your fucking problem, Raven, you just don’t know when to fucking stop…” he hissed, the fury evident in his every word. He snatched his bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder in one swift motion before closing the distance between you. In just two determined strides, he bridged the gap. “You’re just like my fucking brother…you have to excel at everything, fix everything, everything needs to be fucking perfect for you…

You braced yourself, shoulders tense with anticipation, acknowledging the anguish etched across his face. It was a silent plea urging you to put aside any disputes. This was a time for quiet surrender, a moment demanding your undivided attention.

“You know yourself that monsters are fucking created, Raven. They’re made…” his words dripped with disdain as he spat them out, his gaze piercing into yours, dissecting your reaction. “I’m not guarded, I’m not fucking cold…I’m a fucking result…”

Behind his eyes, you could almost hear the gears turning, processing the impact of his words on you. A deliberate, slow breath escaped his lips, carrying the weight of his frustration and disappointment. He took a deliberate step back, his head shaking in a mixture of disbelief and resignation, as if acknowledging the futility of the situation between you.

“I’m not sure what you except from all of this…but you know yourself, just as I do, that this fucking thing between us is nothing other than a goddamn dead end…over the second that graduation rolls around…” he raked a hand through his hair, his eyes briefly flickering towards the door. “Let’s not make the inevitable hurt any fucking more than it has to, yeah?”

Your breath caught in your throat, the air around you suddenly suffocating. Deep down, you acknowledged the truth in his words, but hearing him say it out loud felt like a punch to the gut, the pain far more intense than you had anticipated.

“Right, no…you’re totally right, Mattheo,” you forced the words out, swallowing the hurt that threatened to consume you, your hand reaching for your bag. “I…it just feels incredibly unfair to me, that your veins are full of ice water, while mine are fucking boiling…”

Mattheo locked eyes with you from his position by the door, the emptiness in his gaze almost tangible from across the room. With a steadying breath, you squared your shoulders, mustering the strength to approach him.

“I know you’ve done bad things…I don’t judge you for them, I’m not perfect either…but I am not your fucking brother, and I am not against you…” you said, the words slipping past your teeth before you could even think to stop them. “Sure, you’re an asshole--and sure, perhaps it’s warranted, considering you’ve clearly been through some shit..but your worst sin yet, is that you are destroying your chance at finding peace, for nothing…”

The weight of your words hung in the air, palpable and charged.

“If you don’t want to help yourself, then fine…I won’t push you,” you whispered. “But you’re stuck with me for three weeks. Wether you enjoy my continual presence next to you, or not.”

With a resolute resolve, you pushed past him, the echo of your footsteps fading into the silence, leaving him alone to grapple with the truth you had laid bare.

————————-

Chapter 22->

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 11: It's Giving Kidnapping?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 10.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it) and because there is an unwanted sexual advance (not Soldier Boy) (it's more someone making the reader feel uncomfortable and the person talking to the reader, not so much touching, but it's still there and it's wrong), Violence, Swearing, Mentions of sex, Thoughts of Sex, Kidnapping, GASLIGHTING, Threatening, Denial, A whole lot of denial, Sexism, Creepiness, Manipulation, Talks about weed, Super manipulative trash man, And another Super Manipulative Trash Man but this time he's even more creepy, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Reader POV

"So where is it that we're going again?" You ask your brother Darren while looking absentmindedly out the passenger side window of his car watching the other people on the bridge.

The sun was shining, bathing the interior of the car in a warm light, the clouds puffy and the sky a beautiful blue that faded into the background behind the iconic New York Skyline as the buildings raised their hands to worship the beautiful day. It was the perfect day for you to grab a paper back and a cup of iced pineapple tea and make your way to Central Park, instead you were stuck in a car with your brother who was taking you God knows were.

"I told you it's a surprise." Darren replies, hitting the gas to cut off someone in the fast lane who honks at him, but Darren only flips them the bird and continues to speed down the bridge.

You had been in the car for over thirty minutes, a car that Darren said was a "loan" from his new BFF, the same person that he was ecstatic about you meeting.

The car was fancier than what you were used to, state of the art with butterscotch colored leather seats so supple and smooth that it felt like you were being hugged by the passenger side chair. The windows were made of thicker glass and you guessed that they must be bulletproof given how sturdy they looked, not to mention they were also darker than average so no one could see into the vehicle, but you could see out. The car was four doors and was made by a European company that you'd never heard of, but you were sure it was expensive. The car probably cost more than the entire inventory of "Please Don't Die" and the building the shop inhabited.

This is weird. You think to yourself, squeezing the leather seat in your hand.

Most of the "friends" your brother introduced you to were as down on their luck as Darren and just as eager to ask for a loan from anyone they could. You'd never met one that could afford a new car let alone a car that looked like it should be owned by the wealthiest man in New York City.

Your frown deepens as you try to figure out where the two of you are going and who it is Darren wants you to meet.

Truthfully, Darren was acting like you didn't hate surprises, you did. Every time your brother dropped by unannounced made you furious. You'd told him over and over again to call first, but no matter what you did each time he showed up without so much as a text.

You sigh audibly. "I just want to be prepared for wherever it is we're going."

"And I told you it's a surprise." His hands tighten on the wheel as if you're annoying him, before he glances over at you with a tight smile. "Come on sissy, it's like you don't even trust me."

The word "trust" makes you frown at him and drags you back to your apartment thirty minutes ago when Ben told you that you were stupid and "too trusting." You didn't understand why Ben got so mad at you going with Darren.

He's my brother, what did Ben think was going to happen? And why was he so angry?

You cross your arms over your chest and lean back into the plush seat.

Who did Ben think he was? He's not my dad! And I am not just some stupid little ditzy girl who needs a big strong man to protect me! I am a grown woman who has survived this long without someone like him butting into all of my business.

The more you sat there in the car, the more your frown deepens, and the more angry you became. You didn't understand why he treated you that way when you hadn't done anything to warrant his temper.

He's just a temperamental petulant child who thinks that he knows everything and that his opinion should be treated with the highest regard!

Usually, you would feel bad about what you had shouted at Ben about his old team and about his son, but not right now. You didn't understand why he was getting so angry and why he cared so much about what you were doing with your brother.

Does Ben really think that Darren would do anything to hurt me?

The whiplash that Ben kept putting you through where he seemed to care and then he didn't was getting old quick…

"Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like I give a shit about her."

You wince as Ben's words ring in your ears making something stick in your chest. They had hurt more than you thought they would, maybe because you were starting to care about Ben and you thought that he was starting to care about you.

Because what other reason would he walk with you to work, pick you up, and bring you coffee sometimes? And why did he seem to be almost worried when Darren suggested that you meet his friend?

But he doesn't care about you. He's made that much perfectly clear.

You chew the inside of your cheek contemplating the conversation the two of you shared. Maybe I did say some things that were a little harsh, but Ben was being a total dick and he deserved what I said!

A flash of Ben and you tangled in one another this morning comes roaring back bringing a wave of heat flashing through you. Your cheeks flush and the wildflowers growing on the opposite side of the bridge outside of the car all flare bright pink in the sunlight when Darren drives the car past them.

You had been so close to kissing him, so close to letting yourself sink into his warmth and lose yourself in all he was. He was so strong and broad and warm in all the right ways, not to mention he looked really cute this morning with his eyes still a little hazy from sleep and his dark hair falling forward into his face, mused just slightly against the pillow. You could still feel his body laying on top of yours, but the weight wasn't oppressive, it was perfect, like a weighted blanket that made your anxiety fade away. The feeling of his powerful chest beneath the palms of your hands as you dragged them up to tangle his hair ghosts through your body.

Despite Ben's gruff exterior those few soft moments this morning you wished hadn't slipped through your fingertips, you wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel what it was like for him to kiss you softly as if he wished to savor you. The one you'd shared outside your apartment was hungry and frenzied, but you had a feeling deep down in your gut that the kiss Ben and you would have shared on the couch would have been different. The moment felt different too. The way he looked at you, the way he smiled when he noticed the apple tree flowering, and the way he held you close to him with care.

No. I am not going to think about any of that right now. He was a jerk for no reason and even if he wasn't Ben said he didn't care about me. Which is exactly what I've been trying to say since I first met him, he doesn't want to date me, he just wants to fuck me and move on.

When you'd walked out of your bedroom in a fresh outfit, Ben had already gone, and Jake had answered you back saying that it was okay for you to take the day off. Jake rarely said that it was a bad idea, he had said that he would "miss you" but instead of that filling you with warmth it did absolutely nothing. You figured that it was because of the fight Ben and you had. The anger, frustration, hurt, and rage was still currently swirling around your head and whenever it came to a peak you'd get a flash of how good it felt to wake up with Ben on top of you.

"How did you meet your friend?" You ask to keep your mind from wandering back to Ben.

"The usual."

"Usual, meaning?"

"Met him at Richie's poker game, we hit it off." Darren adjusts the radio and flips it to an 80's rock song that you can't remember the name of.

You sigh. "You owe him money don't you?"

"No I don't!" Darren clams up, his hands tightening on the wheel for a moment. "Well, just a little…"

Typical, just typical. Should have brought my damn checkbook.

"I thought you said that you didn't need money?" You pinch the bridge of your nose doing another mental calculation of how much you could give your brother.

"I don't, we worked something out." Darren answers vaguely, turning off of the expressway and onto a side street.

The buildings outside the window begin to be more and more spaced out, becoming more industrial. Each one you pass is fenced in and are quickly changing into giant warehouses and desolate streets. There aren't any other cars on the road with you and you hadn't seen another person in a few minutes.

"Well this looks… murdery." You frown at another empty warehouse with rusting sides and a roof that’s caved in.

Why are we all the way out here?

"It's not murdery, it's just eclectic. Don't be so judgmental." Darren rolls his eyes at you as he makes a left turn in front of a warehouse that is larger than the others, but in much better shape.

It's fenced with barbed wire swirling along the top of the chain links, but there's a man standing at the gate with a leather jacket, sunglasses, and a clip board, the first person you’d seen outside of the car since Darren got off the expressway. He gestures for Darren to roll down the window with the clipboard.

"Hey there Joe." Darren says smoothly, leaning his elbow on the window frame, the picture of ease.

"Darren." Joe states eyes falling on where you're sitting in the passenger seat. "That her?"

"Yeah this is my sister." Darren flashes the usual smile, the one you've seen him use countless times when he needs to schmooze someone or close a "deal."

"Hi." You say awkwardly, smiling at the man identified as Joe.

Something about this feels wrong. Why does he know who I am? I thought I was just meeting Darren's friend?

All Joe does is frown at you. "Doesn't look like a supe."

You turn to look at your brother surprised. Darren knew that it was something you didn't share with everyone, that it was something you only revealed when you had to.

Darren shrugs it off with a laugh. "She is, trust me."

"Hmm." Joe grunts. "And you're late. The boss doesn't like it when people are late."

"Sorry it was her fault. Told her to put on something nice and you know how women are." Darren is completely in his element, gesturing with his hands, and smoothing down any ruffled feathers.

But the whole situation makes you more uncertain.

Who was "the boss?" Is that Darren's friend? And why the fuck did he tell Joe that I was a supe?

You pull on the end of your long sleeved blouse nervously. Darren hadn’t let you leave the house before approving your outfit and finally when you'd walked out of your bedroom wearing a long sleeved green with white polka dot blouse and a pair of dark jeans and your converse he had said that you were "presentable" but then insisted that you leave your hair down.

It made you feel like you were about to go to a job interview. You didn't understand why Darren made you change so many times or why he cared what you wore to meet another one of his skeevy friends. They never seemed to dress up to meet you, so why should you dress up to meet them? Not to mention Darren wasn't wearing anything different than his usual outfit.

He was wearing his black army jacket over a pair of black ripped jeans and a Meatloaf t-shirt. He'd changed out the gauges in his ears for black pointed spikes and the two rings in Darren's right eyebrow were now bright blue. Darren runs his hand over his buzzed hair, giving you a flash of his onyx skull ring on his thumb.

"Yeah I get it, my old lady does the same thing." Joe eyes you appreciatively and winks. "Cleans up nice though."

"Thank you." You reply dryly.

Joe waves Darren through and as he does, you see a gun in a holster hanging against the left side of his chest under his leather jacket.

"Darren what is this? Why was he armed? And why the fuck did you tell him I was a supe?" You shout at your brother as soon as he rolls up the window.

"Oh well, my friend is kind of important and Joe is just some extra security." Darren pulls the car into a parking spot just outside of the building. He says it like you're overreacting, but you didn't think you were. This entire situation was suspicious. "I told him you were a supe because he's just trying to keep my friend safe. He asked an honest question and I didn't want to lie to him."

Bullshit. Darren doesn't give a fuck about lying to other people.

Sometimes you even wondered if Darren gave a fuck about lying to you. That thought was usually brushed away by the reassertion that Darren was your brother and you trusted what he said.

But everything about this situation made you feel odd. You didn’t understand why Darren had to bring you here to meet his friend or why his friend wanted to meet you in the first place or why his friend seemed to need so much security. You'd never had one of Darren's friends ask to meet you before, most of the time you just showed up to meet Darren and they were there scratching something in public that they shouldn't be.

"Come on Darren, you know how much I hate telling people that I'm a supe-"

"Relax. It's already done, let's just move on." He waves a hand, ignoring you.

"Please, tell me what I'm doing here. This is more than me just meeting your friend."

"Hey." He brings his hand down on yours where it rests on the middle console. "I know you're nervous, but I would never do anything to hurt you." Darren's blue eyes are wide with sincerity. "Do you really think I would?"

"Well-" You bite the inside of your cheek.

He's your brother. He wouldn’t hurt you. You say it to reassure yourself, but it doesn’t stick completely.

"Come on." Darren sighs it as if he's genuinely upset that you thought he would. "I'm your brother, I'm your only family and I love you sis. I just want to do what's best for you. And my friend is really nice and he keeps saying that he wants to meet you. Not to mention he's loaded and I know that you struggle with things like that and he said that he'd help you out."

"What?" You sputter in surprise. "Why would he do that? Why would you talk to him about me?

"Because he's a nice guy and I like to brag about how amazing you are to everyone I meet." Darren smiles. "Now come on I don't want to keep Eli waiting and we're already late."

"Eli?"

It was the first time that Darren had used his friend's name and somewhere at the back of your mind it rang a bell.

"My friend. You're gonna love him. Come on I don't want to keep him waiting." Darren repeats as he gets out of the car first, but you stay in it for a second absorbing the entire situation.

You had half a mind to text Butcher or Annie, something about the whole situation made alarm bells go off in your head, and as mean as Ben had been, you wondered if he was right, if this was something you should be worried about.

And weirder still a piece of you wished that Ben was here with you. You didn't know why, but you did.

Instead of calling or texting someone, you discretely unlock your phone and check that the tracking software Annie and you downloaded to keep tabs on one another when you moved into the city was on. No one else knew about it, in fact the app was disguised as a period tracker on your home screen so if someone were to take your phone all they would see is another general app and they'd immediately pass over it.

You'd never had to use it before in an emergency situation. Annie and you both used it when you went on a date with someone you barely knew as an extra precaution in case the guy turned out to be a freak or a secret cannibal. The horror stories you saw on the internet made you worry about that and the last thing you wanted to do was go on a date with a guy who had a taste for human flesh or wanted to turn you into a skin suit.

You open the passenger side door of the car and step out into the sunshine, tucking your phone into your pocket back pocket while looking up at the building. It glints a dull gray in the morning light, but the general appearance of the building does little to make you feel better about the whole situation. Memories of all the other times you met Darren's friends came flitting back across your mind, all of which occurred at a fast-food restaurant or a random poker game or a bar. Not to mention you'd never had one of his friends specifically ask to meet you before and you'd never met one in the middle of nowhere at a warehouse that was fenced in and patrolled by armed guards.

Darren adjusts the collar of his jacket flipping it down before he looks back at you. "Come on."

"Darren I don't think-"

Darren looks up to the sky with a heavy sigh as if your apprehension is annoying him. "Sis come on." He walks closer to you. "That asshole, Ben, is in your head. Are you really going to trust some random guy you live with or me? Your own flesh and blood?"

"Well-"

"Have I ever put you in a dangerous position before?"

"No."

"Exactly. I care about you so much and I would never do anything to hurt you." He takes your hand, eyes soft in the morning light. "I love you. You're the only family I have left that matters. And I promise if anything in there makes you uncomfortable we can leave. Just say the word."

"Really?"

"Yes." Darren nods once. "Fuck, sissy I'm not taking you here against your will. If you don't want to go in we don’t have to, but you said that you would come with me and you never break your word. Not to mention it would make me happy."

He's my brother. He loves me. He would never hurt me. It's going to be okay.

You let out a soft breath and squeeze his hand. "Okay."

Darren leads you to the thick metal door and opens it for you so you can walk in first and as soon as you do, you stop mid-step. The inside of the warehouse is covered with tables, but they're not empty, each table holds more weed plants than you can fit inside your entire apartment. The room is so green that you have to squint for a moment for your eyes to adjust from all the brightness outside. There are large fluorescent lights hanging above each table trying to give the plants the sunlight they need, but the plants don’t look good.

The plants are wilting, dying, and some have a strange black substance that fans out over the leaves in a vein-like pattern, choking the green that remains. Dead plants in piles are stacked on the edges of the room, already succumbing to whatever the hell was wrong with them.

You'd never seen a plant have something like that before. Even the energy given off by the plants is not the usual one you feel when surrounded by so many, it feels wrong, sickly, almost oppressive. You've never felt something that felt so wrong from any of the plants that you had encountered in the past.

You walk up to one of the tables, examining the black veins that are creeping along the gentle bend of the leaves up from the stalks. "What happened?"

"No idea." Darren shrugs. An unlit cigarette is perched between his lips and he's searching through his jacket pockets for his lighter. The one he'd had for years that looked like a silver dragon. "Eli said that he came back from somewhere and he found them like this."

"Oh."

"Do you think you can fix them?"

"What?" You turn to look at him incredulously. "This is weed. This is illegal why the fuck would I fix this?"

"Come on. Don’t be so high and mighty." Darren groans. "They're plants. You've told me countless times that you hate it when plants suffer. Well all of these are suffering!"

"Not the same thing!"

"You're telling me if Newton's dad's cornfield was suffering you wouldn't wave a hand and work some of that plant lover shit to save it?"

"That cornfield is his family's livelihood this is-"

"It's Eli's livelihood. It's how he makes so much money!"

"Is this why you brought me here?" You shout crossing your arms over your chest. "To fix all of these?"

"No. I wanted you to meet my friend and he's waiting for us so we might as well fucking go." Darren grouses, turning to walk up a rickety staircase that leads to the second level of the warehouse.

But you don’t believe him, because why else would Darren bring you to a place with a plant related problem, not to mention why would Darren get so angry when you refused to.

Did he really think I was going to fix an entire warehouse full of weed plants? The last thing I'm gonna do is help Eli cultivate his crop.

You weren't surprised that Darren's friend wasn't as above board as everyone else. You knew that your brother tended to get involved with people who weren't as law abiding, not to mention your brother's moral compass didn't always point North when it came to other people, but you didn't think that he would involve you in something like this.

Occasionally the moral boundaries you had were pushed when it came to what you did for Butcher, but at least he respected you when you said no.

Darren continues to stomp up the stairs angrily, another reason why you believed that Darren was lying to you.

He knew that if he mentioned any of this I would never come with him.

He throws open the door at the top of the stairs not bothering to knock and you follow behind him, fuming.

The room just inside is not what you were expecting. The entire wall to the left is made entirely of glass giving whomever is inhabiting the room an amazing view of the water beyond, water that you didn't realize was so close when Darren pulled up to the building. There's a giant wooden antique desk at the back at the room with a large maroon leather desk chair sitting behind it and two smaller leather chairs in front of the desk. A few bookshelves line the non-windowed walls, but there's no one else in the room, just Darren and you.

Where's his friend?

Darren sighs and exhales a breath of smoke, before he turns to look at you with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry sis. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I know that you've always been more on the straight and narrow than me and I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"What?" You weren't expecting him to sound so sorry, if anything you thought that your brother would have started yelling at you all over again. Why is he apologizing.

"Yeah." He rubs a free hand over the top of his buzzed hair sheepishly. "I shouldn't have gotten so mad about it. Of course you don’t have to do anything you don't want to do."

"Thank you." You sigh. "And I'm sorry. I do hate to see plants suffer, but that out there is different than what I do regularly."

"I know. And I don’t want you to be uncomfortable" Darren grabs your hand with his free hand, before he looks around the room. "Guess Eli is also running a little late huh?" He smiles and it reassures you that you've been forgiven.

"Yeah. Weird that he's not here. Especially when Joe said he was waiting for us and-"

"Oh shit!" Darren interrupts you, lets go of your hand and smacks himself on the forehead. "I completely forgot."

"Forgot what?"

He's frantically patting down his pockets looking for something. "I was supposed to call Richie. I told him I would and I-" He continues to check his pockets, the cigarette still burning between his lips. Darren talks around it. "Can I borrow your phone real quick? I think I left mine in the car."

"But-"

"Please it'll take like, two seconds. I told him that I'd meet up with him later and I want to take you to lunch after this to make up for all that shit." Darren nods his head back towards the door where the tables of weed plants are.

"Oh you don’t have to take me to lunch Darren, I can-"

"No." Darren smiles. "I want to. It’s the least I can do, driving you all the way out here and making you meet Eli."

"Um-" You look around the empty office expecting Eli to materialize out of nowhere. "Sure. But please make it quick. I don’t want to be in here alone with this random dude."

"He's not a random dude, he's my friend. And he's a gentleman, definitely a better person that that dick you have at your apartment." Darren waves a hand before he takes your phone. "You'll be fine. And we can go wherever you want for lunch."

You frown at Darren's comment about Ben as he disappears out the door and leaves you in the large office.

Honestly you did think that Ben could be a dick at times, but there were other times when he was almost sweet, well, sort of at least.

Not before he left today.

You think about what you yelled at him, about him needing people, but just wanting to push them away. That you were sure about. You believed that Ben did need people, but he had so many trust issues about everything that had happened in the past that it made him suspicious and not want to admit it to himself. That and you figured if he believed he was such a "manly man" he thought that it was ridiculous and feminine to admit that he needed someone.

Which again, you thought was stupid because you'd always seen emotional maturity in a man as an attractive trait. You liked when men could be vulnerable around you, you liked when they were honest, and you liked when they had the confidence and security to break around you so you could help them. And you found yourself wanting to help Ben, even though you thought you shouldn't.

He's not a bad guy, he's just got a ton of trust issues, machoistic ideas, and an inability to open up to anyone.

You tap your fingertip against your bicep where they were crossed in front of your chest and make your way to one of the bookshelves to look at the books. Some were antiques, others were versions of classics that you had read when you were a child, but you were sure that each volume was worth more than the apartment building you lived in. Some of the spines were so faded that you could just barely make out the flecked golden lettering and others were in another language that you couldn't understand.

Honestly, you could see yourself sitting in the big maroon chair curled up with one of these books, reading through the book with a large cup of tea while looking out over the water and admiring the iconic New York Skyline across the bay. It was a nice office, but your mind began to drift back to the quiet moments Ben and you shared a few days ago when you curled up on the couch beside him and read through your current obsession while he sat with the paper on the other side. It was nice and you were surprised that the two of you could share such a quiet moment together without ripping each other's heads off.

Maybe I should call and apologize. You think to yourself while you stroke your fingertip down one of the spines. I shouldn’t have said those things about his team or his son. And yes maybe he shouted some things at me too, but maybe he also feels bad and he's just not man enough to tell me that he's sorry. Or maybe he doesn’t give a fuck and he couldn’t care less about me.

The words he snarled at your brother, vibrate through your head again.

"Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like I give a shit about her…"

You hear someone come through the door and because you expect it to be Darren, you don’t turn to look at him.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting darling." The voice says in a warm and low rumble, the ends tilting in an accent that you can't place. But your entire body freezes, because you knew that voice.

You slowly turn to look at the man who just entered the room eyes widening.

"Ms. Worthington. It is so nice to see you again. How was the drive?" Elijah Black asks with a pleasant smile, one eyebrow raised at you. "Not too much traffic I hope."

Elijah Black looks almost exactly the same way he did at the fundraiser a few days ago and the use of the fake last name you used only reminds you that he hadn't forgotten meeting you. His greying black hair curls behind his ears in waves that have been slicked back over his head. More of his sun-kissed golden skin is revealed to you, showing tattoos that curl up his muscular arms and disappear into the rolled up sleeves of his navy dress shirt. The top two buttons are unbuttoned revealing more of his muscular chest and the dark ink that swirls up from his pecs and licks up onto his collar bones. He's wearing a gold chain to offset the dark swirls of the tattoos, but he still is built like a body-builder, bigger than Ben across, not taller, but taller than you.

Oh fuck. This is not good.

You reach for your phone in your back pocket, prepared to send an emergency text to Butcher and Annie, the one you should have sent before when you were outside, but talked yourself out of. But then you remember that Darren still has your phone and he's not back yet.

"Mr. Black. Funny seeing you here." You clear the fear from your voice, fighting the shudder of fear when you watch Elijah's eyes trace up your figure, clinging to places that make you wish that you hadn’t worn something so tight.

"Please call me Elijah." He purrs, taking another step forward into the room. The door is closed behind him and Darren is gone. "I was disappointed when you used a fake name the other night. I was hoping to get to know you better." Elijah almost looks a little hurt, before his lips twitch into a smirk. "Of course Soldier Boy also seemed to be opposed to the idea, but he's not here now is he?"

"He's outside actually, just give him a second."

"You’re a terrible liar." Elijah chuckles. "I'd hate to see you try to play poker."

"Well give me a chance and I'm sure I'll surprise you."

Elijah is blocking the only exit. The windows could be an option, but it would mean that you’d have to throw something at it or you'd have to throw him through the window. You were strong, but not strong enough to do something like that. Not to mention you had a feeling that Elijah was a supe. The way he carried himself with a careful confidence seemed dangerous.

"Oh I can’t wait to see just how many surprises you have." His eyes trace up and down your body again in a way that makes your throat tighten and a wave of revulsion prickle over your skin. Even though you're wearing a long sleeved shirt and pants, you feel naked under his gaze.

"Darren said that Soldier Boy and you had a fight." Elijah taps his fingers against the edge of the wooden desk. "I hope he didn't hurt you."

Why did Darren tell Elijah that we had a fight? And where the fuck did my brother go?

"That's none of your business-" You say taking a step back moving around the back of the desk, preparing to run the other way and make a break for the door.

Elijah shrugs. "I like to know everything about the women I get involved with."

"We're not involved. I don’t know a fucking thing about you." You spit backing away.

This is bad. This is very bad.

There weren't any plants in the room and you didn’t have any seeds with you. The other option would be the plants out in the warehouse, but each time you tried to reach for them, all you could feel was the sickly energy they had, and honestly it was making you feel a little bit nauseous. You’d never encountered that before, usually plants made you feel stronger, but they were all so sick that it was overwhelming your senses. You wondered if Elijah planned that.

"Well let's change that. I'd love for you to get to know me better." Elijah continues to move forward through the room slowly. "It’s a pity that the two of you had a spat, especially because you seem to care so much about him and he seems to care about you, and especially because what he said must have hurt you, but I suppose it's better for me."

Ben doesn’t care about me, but Elijah doesn’t have to know that. If he knows who Ben really is, then he knows how dangerous he is, and if Elijah thinks that Ben will come to get me, that might be everything I need to make him back off.

"Why is that?" You inch around the table with Elijah following after you.

He's still smiling as if he believes that he's won.

"Because he won't come to save you if he hates you. Darren told me that the things you said to him were quite cruel. And I guess none of your team will be coming either."

Darren heard what we yelled at each other and he just pretended not to. He knew that Ben and I had a fight. He knows that Ben is Soldier Boy. Why would Darren do this? He's my brother-

"Of course my team will come to get me. They're on their way right now. And if I were you I'd let me go now, before this becomes an even bigger problem than it is." The lie isn’t completely out of your mouth before Elijah starts to laugh at you.

"No. They're all in Boston, including Soldier Boy." Elijah's smirk grows like the cat who caught the canary. "A thing about those anonymous tips, none of them seem to be that helpful. But Butcher wanted to catch that electric buffoon so badly I thought I might as well give him a push, not in the right direction unfortunately. I was hoping that Solider Boy and you would catch him the other night. He's been causing some trouble for me. Someone like him is bad for business, especially when I'm expanding into auto-motives."

"Oh no. The drug business isn't working out for you? So sad." You snark eyes flicking to the window for a minute and wondering if you could grab a chair and throw it out before he stopped you.

Elijah looks delighted. "I see you've noticed the problem. A rival of mine broke in and poisoned them, and instead of throwing away that much product and wasting more money I thought of you."

"What about me?"

"Well, your brother mentioned something in a game about his sister being able to 'make plants grow.' Honestly, your brother has a problem keeping his mouth shut about lots of things, but I was intrigued. He didn't see the value of such a gift as I did. And when Darren accumulated such a large sum of debt after the game I offered a deal."

"And what deal is that?" You take another step back, not looking away from Elijah.

"You."

Your entire body goes cold. "He wouldn't do that. My brother wouldn't do that to me. He wouldn’t give me to you as fucking payment!"

Because that was what Elijah was suggesting, he was suggesting that Darren would use you to pay off his gambling debts. Darren had done some shitty things in the past, but this seemed to be too much for him.

He wouldn’t do that to me. I'm his sister not some stranger. Darren is a lot of things, but that is too cold to consider.

"Oh my darling." Elijah sighs and throws you a pitying look. "He did. Do you really think he had to call someone? That he left his phone in the car? He needed your phone so you wouldn't call Butcher." Elijah looks at you as if you're a kicked puppy in need of solace. "But don't worry. I always take care of my toys, especially ones that are as beautiful as you."

"If you touch me I'm going to-" You begin to snarl at him

"You've got spirit." He smiles continuing to move towards you as you back away towards the door. "It always makes it more fun. More of a challenge to break."

"Stay away from me."

"I can't wait for you to beg for me to touch you."

"I mean it." You leap backward to grab the doorhandle, but as you do Elijah lunges across the room, grabbing your right arm to pull you away from the door.

He's still holding on and you bring your foot up between his legs hoping to find something soft, but when you do Elijah only laughs and tightens his grip on your arm and you hear a high-pitched snap that vibrates through your body.

At first you don’t understand what the sound was, but a wave of pain surges up and you realize the high pitched snap was the sound of your right arm breaking. The nausea comes roaring back, but the pain is almost excruciating as you try to pull your now broken arm from his grasp.

"Don't worry." Elijah purrs again. "I'm going to take good care of you."

And it's the last thing you hear as everything goes dark.

Soldier Boy POV

4 Days Later…

Ben leaned back in the faded floral cloth armchair in the corner of the crowded motel room, his head thrown against the back of the chair, as he takes a hit from the blunt in between his thumb and forefinger. The other people in the room continue to bicker and shout at one another pouring over a map and a laptop on the lone table pressed under the window in the corner of the room and it was ruining his buzz.

It had been four days since Ben had been shoved into the back of a car and taken to Boston, four days of listening to Butcher bitch and moan about why none of them could locate the electric supe, and four days since Ben had last seen you.

He exhales a cloud of smoke remembering the conversation the two of you had before he left. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to make you cry and he had no idea where any of what he shouted at you came from, but he was just so damn frustrated about the way your asshole brother was treating you and how damn trusting you were that he just exploded.

Everything he told you, he thought was obvious and something that you could see for yourself. And yet you stood there, eyes wide with tears, while he shouted those things at you and then you had the audacity to yell back at him.

He'd never met anyone so completely clueless and trusting before and it was infuriating. He hated that you let that asshole use you, hated how submissive you got whenever your brother brought up the fact that he was your only family, and Ben hated how you couldn’t see what was directly in front of your face.

All he'd wanted to do was tell you to be careful, and instead he insulted you. And then he'd had to listen to you cry to yourself quietly in your room like you also hadn't insulted him.

Why the fuck do I give a shit? She's just being damn hormonal and never wants to listen to anyone, but herself.

Ben's frown deepens when he remembers what you shouted back at him. He'd never allowed anyone to speak to him that way, then again no one had ever had the balls to and he respected that. Well, respected it, but wished you would fucking stop.

Worse still was that Ben didn't understand why he couldn't stop thinking about you. He'd never had that happen before, usually all it took to get a woman out of his mind was a quick fuck with whatever walked by, but that hadn't worked when he tried it last night.

He'd changed his location on tinder and gone out with a girl who looked nothing like you, and seemed to be the stupidest person Ben had ever met. This time he had bought her dinner, and Ben could feel himself zoning out while she talked about nothing at all. He thought of you while she talked, thought about how you always seemed to speak with purpose and how when you spoke about things they always seemed interesting and important. Not to mention he liked it when you talked because he wanted to learn more about you. You were so different than the women he'd met over the years and it was refreshing. Ben didn't like that he felt that way. He'd never been one for talking, he thought it was fucking boring, but for some reason talking to you was different.

The only time his date shut up was when Ben took her back to her apartment and yet on the walk home all Ben could think of is if you were okay. He didn't like that he had left you with your brother and he had been debating to tell Butcher to fuck off and follow Darren and you, but he hadn't wanted to after you said all that shit about his son and his old team.

Why the fuck do I give a shit what happens to her? All we do is live together. I'm not fucking her, I'm not-

He wasn't used to worrying about someone else, but he was worried about you and again Ben didn’t like it. He didn't like it so much that he almost walked back around the block to his previous date's apartment to see if she was ready to go for round three, but he didn't. Instead he went back to the motel room and tried to sleep, but he couldn't.

Over the past four days, each time Annie's phone rang or chirped he perked up hoping that it was you on the other line and every time it wasn't he seemed to sink further into the chair.

Ben puffed on the joint, but it wasn't as soothing as it had been in the past. The buzz wasn't taking the edge off the thoughts he had of you and it only pissed him off more.

Ben hadn't ever met anyone like you before. You were different and most of the time he never understood you, but he liked that about you. He liked that you were different than all the other women he had met in the past and he liked that you seemed to surprise him. He also thought that was why he liked talking to you, because he wanted to learn more about you so he could understand more.

Ben had never wanted to do that with anyone before, most of the time he just moved on, but not you. As much as he hated to admit it, it was making him want to spend more time around you, because you were interesting, odd, but interesting.

Especially because you kept refusing to sleep with him. It was a point of pride for him, being able to work whoever he wanted into bed with him, but not you. He had tried time and time again to get you to sleep with him using every trick in the book and yet, nothing.

Ben's mind flashes back to the other night at the party when you told him that you wouldn’t sleep with him was because you thought he "threw women away." It struck a nerve more than he thought it would when you said that to him. In fact, women had said similar things to him in the past, but he'd only laughed in their faces, but when you said it to him, it hit something deep inside that he thought he had locked away a long time ago. And weirder still Ben didn’t like it when you said that he wasn't "one for relationships" as if he couldn’t do it if he really tried.

I can do anything.

Ben downs the scotch in his other hand considering what you said and thinks of Countess. He thought that he'd loved her, he'd been in a relationship with her, an open one, but still it was something.

He remembered when you said that sex meant something to you and Ben had never met someone who felt that way before. Someone who thought that sex was special and should be shared with someone you loved. It was weird for him to consider that and Ben supposed that the only way he was ever going to have sex with you was if you fell in love with him or if he fell in love with you.

Yeah, like that'll fucking happen.

He rolled his eyes at the thought. He didn't think that he'd ever be able to fall in love with someone like you. Not with someone who infuriated him as much as you did and was so different than him in every way. Not when you made him angry and annoyed all the time because you refused to listen, talked back, and yelled at him.

The memory of you in his arms when he woke up four days ago surfaces and Ben swallows. He was going to kiss you, and you were going to let him, he knew it.

When he'd kissed you outside of your apartment the first night he came home with you, he'd only done it to make Mike leave you alone, but he hadn't expected to like it so much. And he'd wanted to kiss you badly when he woke up next to you. He thought you looked cute, your body soft against his, your hair flaring out over the pillow, your eyes wide, and your lips supple and welcoming. He'd wanted to trace his thumb over your lower lip, wanted to taste your lips again, and lose himself in everything you were.

I sound like a fucking pussy.

Ben sighed to himself again and closed his eyes, hoping to drown out his thoughts of you with the conversation Butcher and Annie were having over the laptop. MM was cleaning a gun and glaring at Ben while Kimiko and Frenchie were talking in rapid fire sign language that Ben couldn't understand and he wished you were there to translate or at least there to talk to him.

It's always so boring when she's not here.

Ben froze, thumb and middle finger pressed tightly on the blunt. He'd never done that before, never wanted a woman around to talk to, but that was what he meant. Even with Countess it was different. He wanted her around for a good fuck but they didn't talk about anything important and they certainly didn't sit around on the couch and watch his old films and he never sat with her while she read a book.

Ben's mind went back to the other day when you'd sat with him quietly on the other side of the couch, your gaze so focused on the pages of a book that you hadn't seen him watch you read. He noticed that when you did, you sometimes stopped breathing, like you'd forgotten that you needed to and whatever was in the book was more important than oxygen and that you sometimes formed the words with your lips as you did. Ben didn't know why he thought it was so interesting when you read, but he couldn’t look away. Sometimes during the day he'd have some free time from Butcher and he'd walk past the plant shop to see what you were doing and would see you sitting at the counter reading to yourself. He always thought about going inside, but you looked so peaceful that he didn’t want to interrupt you.

It was better than when he found you talking with that idiot Jake. Ben rolled his eyes to himself at the thought of your boss.

He definitely wants to fuck her. Ben sighs crossing his legs. And she wants him to. She shouldn't. She needs someone that'll actually be able to handle her. That guy's built like a fucking twig, not to mention he's not a supe.

Ben's jaw tightened with the thought of walking in on the two of you fucking in the apartment. You had made a rule about Ben not having any women there, but you'd never said anything about you bringing back someone. You hadn't yet and Ben hoped that you wouldn't bring Jake there anytime soon. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens to the point that he pierces through inside to the stuffing. Ben wasn't sure he'd be able to go into the apartment to listen to the two of you, let alone smell him all over you when you were done.

It was bad enough when you'd come back to the apartment smelling like the plant guy and Ben didn't want to experience what it was like after you'd had sex with him and have to smell him all over you. That also made him a little confused. Ben had fucked plenty of women who had significant others, women who threw themselves at him, and he hadn't cared about sharing. Not to mention Ben didn't get jealous, ever, whenever Countess had messed around with someone else at Herogasm Ben would watch, but with you… The sound of the arm of the chair breaking in his hand is audible when he thinks about someone else touching you, but no one else notices.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I care? She's infuriating! And she's always so damn angry with me all the time that I'm pretty sure she'd never let me kiss her ever again let alone touch-

"Hello?" Annie held her phone up to her ear interrupting Ben's train of thought. "Oh hey Jake what's-"

Ben perked up at the sound of Jake's name with a frown. He hoped again that while he was gone you wouldn't sleep with him.

"I'm worried, I haven't heard anything from her and she didn't come in for her shift this morning." Ben heard Jake say on the other side of the line referring to you.

His muscles tensed slightly. Ben hadn’t wanted to leave you there with your brother, something about the guy made him antsy. Ben had met men like him in the past, men who used things like family and love to manipulate people into caring about him. He knew that Darren was your brother and you were just so kind and open that you would do whatever he asked without question.

Darren knew that. He knew exactly what to say to her to get her to give in.

Ben wondered how much you’d let Darren get away with in the past and quietly made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let Darren get anything out of you ever again for as long as Ben was around.

"Do you think she's running late?" Annie asks diplomatically, but Ben doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows scrunch together and the worried look she throws Hughie who is sitting across the table looking up at her.

"Not three hours. I tried to text her and when she texted back the message was weird." Jake presses.

"What do you mean weird?"

"Well, she used a lot of emoji's and she never does that."

Ben watched Annie's smile pull down into a frown. "Huh. Here I'm going to try to call her and I'll call you back okay."

"Sure."

Annie hangs up the phone and scrolls her finger on the screen to find your number.

"Everything alright?" Hughie asks leaning back in his chair.

"I'm not sure." Annie puts the phone up to her ear again.

Ben can hear the ringing on the other side of the line and he finds himself leaning forward, waiting for you to answer.

"Come on. Pick up the phone." Annie whispers while tapping her foot on the ground.

When you don't she opens the text thread of messages the two of you have and texts you. When you moved to the city the two of you had come up with phrases and words that you used to warn each other of danger. Annie insisted on it. Two single women living in a big city meant that the two of you were targets even if you were supes and as capable as the two of you felt handling your own, it was a comfort to have someone else.

Annie: Hey babe! I'm thinking about dying my hair blue again. Thoughts?

She waited patiently staring at the screen. Ben couldn't help but watch her with interest, he didn't know what was going on, only that Annie seemed to be worried. Something that he had never seen her be.

You: Hey girl! I think you should go for it! You always rock it.

Ben hears Annie's sharp intake of breath and rises from his chair understanding that something is wrong.

"Fuck." Annie mutters.

In middle school as an act of rebellion, Annie had tried to dye her hair blue with a box of cheap hair dye the two of you bought at the pharmacy in town while Annie's mother was away. But when it was done, something had obviously gone wrong. The dye must have been old or maybe just too cheap to do any good because it had dyed Annie's hair a vomit colored green. And to make matters worse, Annie had a terrible allergic reaction. It was that day the two of you realized that she was allergic to the chemicals most hair dyes. Her entire head had swelled up and she had to go to the Emergency Room.

Not to mention when Annie's mother showed up she told Annie she "deserved it" for doing that to her hair. The only way the Doctors could help her was to wash her hair out with bleach and then when that didn't work they cut it all off.

Annie had to wear itchy wigs for months after.

The correct response you were supposed to have was:

"Fuck no. Do you want to shave your head again?"

"Butcher-" Annie says raising her eyes from her phone.

"Yeah?" He doesn't look up from the map in front of him, trying to find out where the supe is hiding.

"We have to go back." She touches his shoulder to get his attention.

"Why?" Butcher looks at her annoyed, and he was. He had devoted a lot of man power to finding this supe and a lot of his own personal time. The last thing he was going to do is to come up empty handed.

Annie says your name. "Is in trouble."

"What do you mean?" Ben asks.

"She didn't show up to work today and she never just skips." Annie explains. "And we have code messages we made and she answered wrong." She holds out her phone to show Butcher the text thread.

“Hair dye?” Butcher still doesn’t look convinced.

“She knows I’m allergic. And she didn’t show up to work today.”

“Maybe she slept in-“ Butcher didn't want to drive all the way back to NYC for no reason, not when he believed he was close to catching the electric supe.

“She loves that job. And yes maybe she runs late, but she’d never just vanish or not go into work without calling Jake.” Annie pulls her phone back and begins to swipe through.

“What are you doing?” Ben questions. By now he could feel something unfamiliar tightening in his chest, a weird feeling that he couldn't place.

“We share our locations with one another.” Annie replies typing something on her phone. “I just have to find the app and-“ She looks down at the screen for a moment before raising it so Butcher can see. “See look! Why would she be all the way in Brooklyn?”

“Maybe that’s where her brother took her.” Ben grunts taking another puff from the joint in his fingers, hoping that it will relieve some of the weird tension he was feeling, but it doesn't.

Annie swivels her head around to glare at Ben so fast he gets whiplash. "Wait a minute. Darren's in town? Why didn't you say anything?"

“Yeah. Fucker spent the night four days ago.”

“And you left her with him alone?"

“He was going to take her to meet his friend-”

“For fucks sake Ben, why didn’t you just slather her in honey and tie her to an ant hill?" Annie shouts waving her hands dramatically at him.

Guess she doesn't like him either.

"Well-"

Annie isn't interested in what he has to say, instead she begins to type something on her phone and raises it one final time to her ear.

"Where the fuck is she?" Annie snarls into the phone and it doesn’t take Ben much time to figure out that she's called Darren.

"Who?" The voice of your brother fills the phone and Ben's hands clench together into fists at his sides.

Ben can tell he's lying from just one word and he feels rage begin to replace the odd feeling, licking up against the walls of his chest like an unquenchable fire.

"You know who you fucking leech." Annie spits.

"I don’t know. I took her back to her place after she met my friend. Think they hit it off." Darren sounds casual and Ben can almost imagine the sick smirk on his face.

"If you’re lying, I’m going to roast you alive like the pig you are."

"Oh baby the way you talk to me."

"Darren I’m serious."

"I don’t understand why you’re getting your panties in a wad Annie. She’s fine. I took her back to the plant shop four days ago after she met my friend, because she wanted to go to work. I haven’t heard from her since."

"Darren-" Annie begins to say, but Ben crosses the room so fast he didn't remember moving and snatches the phone from Annie.

"Listen to me you little shit." Ben growls into the phone. "If she's fucking hurt I am going to show you what it's like to be turned inside out."

"Whoa easy there Benny boy I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but-"

"For your sake I hope you're telling the truth, because if you're not there's going to be no where for you to hide from me and there's not going to be enough left of you to wipe up with a tissue." Ben hits the off button on the phone call and as he does he realizes that everyone in the room is staring at him with wide eyes, but he ignores it.

"Oi what the fuck was that mate?" Butcher says, but Ben ignores him.

"You can either give me the fucking keys to your car or I can take them from what's left of you." Ben snarls. "You get to pick."

Butcher eyes him for a minute, considering. "Come on yank, let's go."

A/N: And we have the reappearance of Elijah Black who is just as creepy as he was the first time. Maybe more? Wanted to throw in a little bit of Ben POV because it's a lot of fun to write and he's just so conflicted about everything, not to mention just as clueless as the reader when it comes to how he really feels.

As always thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are not required, but are always appreciated. Feedback is always welcome. If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series please let me know :)

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g0dlyunsub · 7 months ago

Text

red herring.

in which spencer can’t stop teasing you about how you constantly try to draw his attention away from your rather flawed board/card game skills.

pairing :: spencer x reader

warnings :: none? some [really slight] sexual tension but it’s mostly spencer being his witty self.

word count :: 1.3k

author’s note :: second post is now up! i’m a sucker for pure fluff that involves constant bickering, especially when it involves spencer’s ginormous brain. mention of his glasses like thrice. i also just realized i missed the opportunity to title this as reid herring, but i'm too lazy to change the cover :3

accompanying song :: show me by mac ayres and chris anderson

you let out a deep sigh before you can stop yourself, and you instantly try to fake cough to mask your disappointment. spencer’s quick to notice, however, and he flashes a smile at you. his glasses hitch up slightly as his nose lightly crinkles, and you can’t help but look and admire. in comparison, your smile is always turned downwards and you’ve never felt comfortable displaying a wide smile like his.

you’d find his smile to be refreshing any other day, but right now, it’s more of a nuisance than anything.

“what, can’t admit that you’ve lost the last seven games of chess?” spencer chuckles playfully and rests his chin on his hand.

you huff in frustration and tap the table with your index finger. “you’ve been playing this game since like what, when you were a week old? your elo rating is probably well above candidate masters and-”

“so what else do you want to try? i’ve handicapped my queen, my bishop, do you want a rook gone next?” the rim of spencer’s glasses gleams under the lighting as he asks, and you hate how everything seems to be on his side.

“no,” you pout, and tip over your king to surrender. “i want to play something different.” you fold your arms in front of your chest as you speak and lean back in your chair.

“you know, if it helps, i could explain the strategies i used to counter your plays. these seven- well eight games, we’ve played the italian defense three times, the caro-kann setup twice, the sicilian defense once, which is pretty impress-” you cut spencer short when you clear your throat and raise your eyebrows.

“can we not… talk about chess right now?” you pout once again, and push the chess board to the side of the table.

“well. is there anything else that you want to play?” spencer adjusts his glasses as you scratch the back of your head in contemplation.

“old maid. i’m a natural at that game,” you suggest, and you notice the corner of spencer’s lips tug into a smirk.

“oh, i bet you are. try me.” confidence oozes from his words and your heart beats just a little faster. he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“i’ll deal the cards.” you grab a deck of cards from the drawer of your desk and shuffle the cards in a swift and fluid manner.

“that’s right, in a classic two-player situation for a deck of 1 card to a deck of 51 cards, the latter of which is the standard for a game of old maid, the expected probabilities for the dealer winning are always higher than the non-dealer. if you’re really going for the win, i’d recommend playing with a smaller deck of cards, but the difference is really minimal. you’re looking at a simulated probability of 50.4 percent with 51 cards versus 51.8 percent with 23 cards.” spencer rolls the facts off his tongue like it’s common sense, and you blink rapidly in stunned confusion. he’s playing it off with a goofy smile again. ugh.

the next hour is filled mostly with intense silence, and you could swear a part of your brain was going to short circuit from mental exhaustion any minute.

“is it… here? hm?” spencer observes your facial expressions for any note of change, but you wouldn’t give it to him. you remain unphased as his fingers trail between your cards and pull the rightmost card from your grip.

your heart makes an ecstatic turn when he takes the old maid and it takes everything in you to suppress your smile. so much for being a profiler.

your excitement doesn’t last, however, when he slightly cocks his head to the side and starts to shuffle his cards. it’s endgame, and you might be able to come out of this with your first victory.

you lean in ever so slightly, brushing your fingers atop each card and pausing in between. your eyes lock onto his hazel beads, and neither of you blink.

“it’s not this card.” you move to the next card, and spencer raises an eyebrow.

“are you sure? you know, statistically speaking, when one shuffles their deck of-” your hand snakes under his cards and you lay a finger to his lips.

“shh, i’m trying to concentrate,” you whisper, and everything goes silent. the tension between the two of you hangs suspended in the air and it’s increasingly harder for you to focus on the game. in fact, you’re thinking of everything but the cards in front of you.

you draw in a deep breath and settle on the card that sits second to last in his right palm. when you turn the card over, a frown instantly overtakes your face. the old maid had instantly made its way back into your set of cards.

the rest of the game is torturous; each turn, spencer discards his pairs one by one, and your disappointment seeps through your loud sighs.

you set the last card on top of the messy pile of pairs. it’s a loss, again.

“spence, i’d beat you in any target game like darts.” you lift your head with an exhausted groan.

“you know, phil taylor, a 16-time world darts champion, is often cited to utilize geometry to his strategic advantage since he aims for the triple 20 section, which is one of the highest scoring areas of the board. it takes practice, of course, to nail the angle down, but an estimation of the dart's projectile motion offers great leverage to your precision.” he looks at you as you start to stack up the cards and stuff them back into their case.

after a pause, he continues: “can i not impress my favorite person once in a while?" he reaches for your hand to interlace his fingers with yours.

his thumb rubs the cave between your thumb and index finger in a circular motion, and you feel your body relax under his touch. you suppress your excitement at the mention of the word favorite by pursing your lips.

“you always impress me, spence. wait – hey, is that a red herring, coming from you?” you question, pulling his hand towards you.

“perhaps. and i’ll actually address mine, unlike a certain someone…” a sly grin spreads across his face.

“but what about that one time you-” you start, raising your other hand to contest.

“hm. interesting. that’s your first whataboutist reply in two days,” spencer cuts you off short. what an actual jerk.

he breaks into a small fit of laughter before he waves his hand to control himself. you, on the other hand, aren’t impressed. he stands, his figure towering over you as you remain seated.

“come on, let’s grab a cup of coffee before we head out for the weekend. i’ll walk you home.” spencer motions for you to get up, and you reluctantly follow suit. you’re glad you could spend more time with the witty doctor, but you hadn’t expected to accumulate even more stress after work was over. a cup of coffee is exactly what you need to get a moment of relaxation.

he hands you your cup of coffee and turns to face you while stirring his drink with a coffee stick.

“hey, uh, listen. it’s been really nice playing with you today, and if you wanted to play again sometime, talk about strategies, stuff like that…” he trails off, watching you as you take a sip of your hot drink.

“of course, if you’ll ever consider adopting me as your apprentice,” you jokingly respond, and a glimmer surfaces in his eyes. before he can respond, you lean in and embrace him.

“i’m just kidding. invite me for a card game any time.” you look up so your forehead sits right under his chin. he’s surprised at your sudden move, but he sets his cup down and returns the hug.

“poker next?”

“oh hell no. get out of here.” you laugh and take his hand as you walk out of the office while he desperately scrambles for his cup with his free hand. both of your laughs echo down the hallway and trail behind as the elevator doors close.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #bau!reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg x reader #dr spencer reid

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putellasawfc · 7 months ago

Text

pre-parental panic !

alexia putellas x pregnant!reader

summary: attending another game in support of your fiancée, everything should’ve gone smoothly. but chaos ensues when an ignorant security guard gets a little too handsy. (warnings: injury whilst pregnant, but nothing serious in the end & there’s a happy ending). words: 5.8k

it was another beautiful day in barcelona and you found yourself in attendance at yet another barcelona and real madrid clash, something you had come to love over the last few years of your life.

when you first met alexia, you had very minimal knowledge of the sport she had such an intense passion for which you worried would be something of a turn off for the blonde barcelona captain, but to your delight the woman surprisingly found it endearing and was adorably excited to teach you about the amazing world of football. and she was a good teacher, it only took you just over a month of knowing alexia to know all of the football terms by heart.

you didn’t miss the way her face would light up when you would get immersed into a match, whether it be her own or just a random one she’d put on the television for the night. she’d watch you with soft eyes as you gestured towards the device in frustration, complaining that the goal that went in shouldn’t count because the player was definitely offside, soon turning to alexia herself in an attempt to get her to back you up. she hadn’t even seen the goal, too busy watching you, but she nodded in agreement anyways. if you said it was offside, then it was.

it was at a barcelona game that your relationship was publicised.

it was after the championships league final, barcelona had worked their hearts out after coming back from being two goals down at halftime. you watched in the stands, beside alexia’s mother and sister on the edge of your seat. you knew how much this meant to your girlfriend and you worried that the chance to become champion league winners had just slipped from the barcelona team’s fingers, something you knew would take a huge toll on the ever so self critical alexia, and you hated that you couldn’t grab even a second with her just to give her a hug and share some words of encouragement, even if she wasn’t actually on the pitch yet.

all you could do was wait in your seat and hope that chances were made and the team came back out for the second half amped up and eager to fight until the last minute.

and that they did.

with patri managing to score a brace, and rolfö scoring another goal twenty minutes later you were on cloud nine by the time the final whistle blew, and you knew your girlfriend was absolutely ecstatic with the way the team dominated in the second half. you stayed in the stands with alexia’s family, sharing hugs and celebrating with the duo whilst you waited, rather impatiently, for alexia to finish celebrating with her team and come join you all.

you watched from afar as she lifted the trophy, taking as many pictures and videos as you could of the memorable moment so that you could look back on the special day in months and years to come, remembering how overjoyed you were to be able to see alexia achieve something she had spent countless of nights stressing over, understandably so.

when the celebrations began to quell, and players wandered off the pitch to join family and friends in the stands, alexia all but skipped to be with you, where she had been aching to be since that final whistle.

she pulled you into a hug, and you squeezed the muscular woman as hard as you could, hoping you would be able to convey every ounce of love you had for the phenomenal woman in the warm embrace. “so proud of you espléndida.”

you felt a puff of breath against your ear as she laughed at your comment, knowing you had been working on your pet names in spanish lately, wanting to woo the woman in more than just english.

“thank you mi novia, i am so glad you’re here.” she whispered, pulling away from the hug but still keeping her hands on your waist.

your heart melted at the sight of tears shining in the woman’s eyes, her emotions clearly beginning to get the better of her after a tough match against a team that looked like they were taking home the win in the first half. your hand quickly moved, almost like second nature to you, to wipe away a stray tear that trickled down her slightly muddied cheek, caressing the area with your knuckles once you had.

“i’ll alway be here baby.”

you wanted nothing more than to smother your girlfriend in a considerable amount of affection, but you were conscious of the cameras and the number of fans still in attendance, in hopes of getting a photo with the champions. you didn’t want to be the cause of outing your relationship with alexia, someone who was very private with her personal life and had made sure to keep you quiet in the public eye since you made things official.

you knew the fans weren’t blind, they’d noticed you, someone they had never seen before, suddenly attending almost every barcelona match alongside alexia’s family, always sharing a hug and some hushed whispers with their captain at the end of every match. they’d decided you were alexia’s new girlfriend a number of months ago, but with no real confirmation from alexia yet, she was happy to keep them in the dark with who you really were to her.

and so you settled with just giving the midfielder a beaming smile, ready to step back and give her some space to interact with eli and alba who were happily engaged in their own conversation as they waited for alexia to finish with you, like they always did.

but then you felt a tug on your hand, and you looked back at alexia with your brows furrowed in confusion at what she could possibly want. she only maintained eye contact with you for a second, maybe two, before her eyes drifted downwards and found themselves transfixed on your lips. later on she would blame the lip balm you had applied at half time, telling you your lips just looked so soft and inviting she couldn’t help herself. it was your fault really.

but for now she pushed any hesitation to the back of her mind, and leaned in rather swiftly, quickly connecting your lips in a sweet yet passionate kiss, one you sank into immediately with your hold on the footballers shoulders increasing.

it was cut shorter than you would’ve liked, but you knew alexia was risking a lot already by initiating the kiss in the first place, and so you didn’t complain, only smiled at the blonde who now held a flushed complexion to her face as she smiled back at you.

“oo la la, did i just witness mi hermana partake in some pda?”

the teasing voice of alba broke through the bubble you and alexia had found yourself lost in since she had approached you minutes ago, the playful banter between the sisters making you laugh as alexia pushed her younger sibling which didn’t deter her from making fun of alexia even further.

you were pleasantly surprised when you opened up your instagram later that night, just having one last look at your phone before you switched it off and got ready to sleep. you quickly clicked on alexia’s story when you noticed she had posted on it, and smiled at all the pictures she had posted of the day. her with the trophy, the team with the trophy, a video of her and mapi screaming in glee at the camera with confetti stuck in their hair.

it was the last photo of the bunch that sent your heart beating that little bit faster. it was a picture of the kiss, with a black and white filter layered over the top. you couldn’t stop the cheesy grin overtaking your features even if you really wanted to at the sight, your thumb quickly moving to click on the heart at the bottom right corner.

guess you we’re officially, official.

and now, two years later, here you sat beside alba once again (eli was too busy to attend, but had called alexia earlier with her usual well wishes), with an ice cold bottle of water in hand that alexia had practically forced you to take whilst she demanded you be seated in one of the more shaded areas of the arena, the protective mother to be mindful of the blazing weather.

the game went as expected, with barcelona already one nil up before the time had even reached double digits, the goal being made by aitana which had you cheering for the baller from your seat.

it seemed as though the early goal had set the tone for the rest of the match, as barcelona continued to score goal after goal throughout both half’s, whilst madrid struggled to score any. the final whistle blew earlier than you had been expected, being so engrossed in the game you hadn’t realised the clock had stopped at ninety-six minutes, the team managing to score five against madrid where madrid failed to score any in retaliation.

you knew alexia would be in good spirits after the win, especially with the no goals conceded and the fact that she had managed to earn her own goal and assist in the match, something that usually would’ve had you jumping for joy but with your newly acquired baby bump, you were forced to stay put and be content with just cheering and clapping instead - which you did with all your might.

everything about your day has been going incredibly, until it was time to meet up with alexia.

since you had arrived at the later stages of your pregnancy, alexia had decided that it would be best for both of you if you came to her rather than her coming to you like she usually did. then you would be able to go with her through the tunnels and into the locker rooms, remaining with her whilst she got showered and changed. the idea had already been cleared by jonatan who had no issues with the new routine, as long as it wasn’t disrupting play (which it wasn’t) then he didn’t care.

she argued that it was so that she was there incase something happened to you in the fifteen minutes that it took her to get ready to go home - usually it would take double that time but she rushed through her regime in order to get you home sooner, and you found her reasoning excessive but you didn’t say anything, finding it endearing how much more protective she had become over you since your bump became visible.

you made your way carefully down the concrete steps after you had bid farewell to alba, a goodbye that was only temporary as the brunette would be meeting alexia and yourself at your shared apartment so that you could partake in some well needed catching up with the younger putellas sister who had been way too busy over the past few weeks.

your hand clung to the metal railing that was helping you stabilise yourself on the way down, your other hand finding itself underneath your bump whilst you stretched your neck in order to see your feet and ensure that you weren’t about to slip or miss a step, not wanting to cause any last minute chaos.

though you wondered if that attempt was in vain, as you assessed the situation that greeted you at the bottom of the stairs.

a frown found itself on your face at the rowdy fans that were trying to get as close to the barrier as they possibly could, desperate to get a picture with one of the barcelona girls, some additionally holding different items they wanted to be signed. a few fans were even trying to push their way onto the pitch, something that was irritating the security guard to no end which was apparent by the angry lines etched on the man’s forehead.

you tried your best to ignore the fuss, continuing your journey to find alexia with as little interaction with the fans as you could manage. you didn’t want to seem rude, but you knew if you accepted to take a picture with one person, then you’d have a huge crowd around you in seconds, eager to get something from the captain’s girlfriend which would just overwhelm you and you weren’t just worrying for your own safety anymore. you did give a wave though, when they cheered at your presence which thankfully they seemed content with.

you budged past a few barcelona tshirt clad fans, and managed to take two steps onto the pitch when an arm was raised infront of you, preventing you from advancing any further.

“no fans allowed on the pitch.” a gruff and unimpressed sounding voice reached your ears.

“i’m going to see alexia, i’m her fiancée.” you gave the middle aged man a smile whilst you flashed your rather impressive engagement ring, expecting the man to perk up at the realisation of who you were and let you pass.

but that didn’t happen.

instead, he just gave you a look of pure disbelief, his eyes flickering to your bump with an amused smirk. “oh, and i’m guessing that baby in there belongs to her too?”

your brows furrowed at the man’s tone, not sure if he was too behind the times to believe that it was possible for two women in a relationship to have a baby in a way that didn’t involve adoption, or if he was just trying to call your bluff. either way, you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at his condescending tone.

“yes actually.” the man only scoffed in response, still not letting you through.

“i’m not lying to you, seriously. look, i can even prove it to you.”

you moved to grab your phone from your jacket pocket, with your lockscreen being a picture of alexia and yourself on one of your many date nights, you figured that would be more than enough to prove that you were in fact in a relationship with the footballer. and if that still didn’t help convince him, you could just call alexia herself and have her come and collect you.

you clicked on the side button of your phone, the screen lighting up at the action and there was the picture of the both of you. alexia stood behind you with her arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your back to her chest whilst you both smiled at the camera. you turned your phone around to show it to the security guard, who to your dismay didn’t even spare one glance at the device and instead moved to grab ahold of your arm in a less than gentle manner.

“look, i don’t have time for crazy, obsessed fans okay? i have a job to do and you’re pushing it, so this is the last time i’ll ask nicely. please return to your seat and wait for the players to approach. if you don’t i’ll have no choice but to have you removed from the stadium all together.” despite using his manners, his words were spat out harshly and his grip on your arm tightened throughout his demands, leaving you gritting your teeth together in pain.

“let go of me! i’m telling the truth, i’ll call alexia and get her over here right now and she’ll tell your herself that i am her fiancée!” you told him, fed up with his distrust in you.

it was then, that a fan who had taken the security man’s distraction with you as a prime opportunity to sneak past and run onto the pitch, accidentally stumbled on their way past, effectively sending their body barging into the security man, and with the speed they were running at, it wasn’t just a light impact. it sent the man, who still had his hand wrapped around your arm, pushing against you and before you knew it, you had landed bump first into the metal barrier that was to the side of you all.

the cramp like pain that spread throughout your lower stomach was immediate, and intense from the get go. you doubled over in pain, crying out in agony at the ache that was worse than anything you had ever felt in your entire life. the security guard who had seemed to clue onto his mistake, quickly released your arm and took a step back as if he was attempting to look as though he was just a concerned onlooker, but what he hadn’t accounted for was the furious blonde who had seen the incident and was fast approaching.

“qué diablos crees que estás haciendo?”

the man, who was beyond cocky and aggressive only seconds prior, had now paled considerably at the sight of alexia who looked like she was seconds away from pouncing on the guard, who could only cower away from her irate demeanour. you were sure the only thing stopping her were the fans who had all stood in a stunned silence at what had just occurred infront of them.

“l-lo siento! it was a mistake, i was pushed!”

“you shouldn’t have had your hands on her in the first place, bastardo!” she spat, before she turned to you and the fire in her eyes melted away leaving only a puddle of concern in its absence.

“querida, are you okay? how bad does it hurt? can you walk?” alexia quick fired an abundance of questions at you, you who could barely concentrate on what she was saying as the pain took control of all your senses, all you could focus on was the sharp stabbing feeling that wasn’t getting better anytime soon.

the panic in alexia hit an all time high at the lack of response she received from you, as you continued to remain hunched over with an arm helping you lean against the barrier you had been launched into, and your other wrapped around your heavy bump. she ran a hand through her hair, a clear sign on stress in the thirty year old as she tried to think of what she could do next.

it was as if god had heard her silent plea for help, as a familiar accent reached her ears just as she was about to crack under the anxiety.

“yn? are you okay? alexia, what’s going on?”

alexia’s teary eyes met ingrid’s confused ones, the norwegian woman trying to figure out what was going on, it had only been a minute ago that alexia had excused herself from the teams celebrations to come and meet you near the bench, where you always met. only, when she began to make her way towards the tunnel so she could get ready and go home to mapi, she saw you with your back to the rest of the stadium and alexia with the angriest look she had ever seen on her friends face. not a good sign at all.

“he hurt yn! pushed her into the barrier and now she’s hurting but, she won’t talk to me and i don’t know what to do!” the catalan woman was quick to explain the situation to ingrid whose jaw dropped at the revelation, her eyes immediately seeking you out to see what state you were in now that she was up close.

she approached you cautiously, as if you were some wounded, stray animal who might run away at the first sign of contact, and placed a gentle hand on your back.

“call the medics over, they’ll be able to give her a brief assessment and will tell you if you need to get her to a hospital.” ingrid told alexia, her voice carrying a much needed sense of calmness that was desperately needed at the moment, but on the inside the dark haired woman was anything but.

alexia nodded rapidly, giving you one more troubled look as if she didn’t want to depart from you, but she knew you needed help, now. so she quickly spun on her foot and ran as fast as she could to the bench, where the medics were still gathering their belongings thankfully.

ingrid watched her go for a moment until her attention turned to you, “hey yn, can you stand up straight for me? or is it too painful?”

your iron like grip on the railings had your knuckles turning a white colour, which ingrid took notice of before you shook your head wildly, all that left your mouth was a harsh breath.

“you can’t stand up?”

this time you nodded.

ingrid sighed, already knowing you weren’t in a good state when she approached, but now her heart beat wildly in her chest when she realised how bad it really was. she could only imagine how erratic alexia was feeling, god knows what she’d be like if she was in this situation with mapi one day.

all the norwegian could do is rub you back in an attempt to ease even a tiny bit of your discomfort, but in the back of her mind she knew any of her efforts would be a waste.

it wasn’t long before alexia rushed back, this time with the medics following closely behind and even a few more barca girls who had overheard the loud ramblings of their captain a few feet away, and had to come see if you were okay.

the medics moved quickly to give you a look over, they weren’t specialised in anything pregnancy related unfortunately but they were the closest thing the team had to actual doctors so you just had to cope with what you had until you could be seen by the real thing.

they tried their best to asses you without causing you too much discomfort, a task easier said than done as you seemed to wince and cry out at every prod or poke near your stomach, which is where they needed to be. alexia watched a few feet away, feeling helpless as she watched her love almost collapsing from the pain and she could do nothing to help, not even hold your hand and whisper reassurances into your ear as the medics needed all the space they could get.

rölfo was on one side of her, rubbing the woman’s back in some attempt at comforting the captain, whilst claudia stood on her other side, gripping alexia’s hand in her own as she nibbled on her bottom lip, all three of them watching your every move.

the doctors asked you a few questions, similar to how alexia had done earlier but less frantically. what does the pain feel like? can you feel the baby moving at all? are you able to sit down? all were answered with a shake of your head, and your nerves grew when one of the female medics told you she was going to check under you dress to see if you had any bleeding.

both the staff, and the barca girls built a human made border around you so that she was able to discreetly lift your dress, just up to your upper thigh so that she was able to get a good look, the whole crowd of you visibly relaxing when she put her thumb up, no blood.

“we’re gonna get them to bring the ambulance on the pitch, okay? we need to get her to a hospital as soon as possible, the quicker we get her there, the better. she needs proper scans and tests that only hospitals can provide.” the medic explained, her eyes locking with alexia’s damp ones, who could only sniffle and nod in response.

the whole situation was surreal to her. only moments prior she was on a high from the win with her team, three points secured and an impressive clean sheet was the best turn out for her. and now, her stomach was in knots and she felt like she could be sick at any given moment, there was no way she could settle until she was reassured by a doctor that you and your baby were okay.

“alexia.” your strained voice called out amongst the various voices blending together around her, and the blonde perked up when she realised you were calling out for her.

she quickly approached you, cautious of your still hunched over figure with a hand quickly finding it’s way to the back of your head in an attempt to bring you any comfort as her nails scraped against your scalp with slow and gentle strokes. “mi amor? what’s wrong?”

“just, need you here. please.” you told her through gritted teeth, ��don’t leave me.”

“nunca, dulce niña, nunca.” her words came across firm and steady, which was an apparent difference from her previous wobbly voice, something you were grateful for.

you knew alexia would be losing her mind as the seconds passed by, the usual calm exterior she demonstrated to the public whenever she knew she had eyes on her had been completely thrown out of the window, any worry for how people may regard her gone as her entire body shook with anxiety. but the second you needed her, needed that steady presence by your side to help you breathe properly, it was back.

she continued to comfort you in her own special was as you both uneasily awaited the arrival of the ambulance which you were assured was coming as fast as possible. her fingers glided through your hair, her nails continuing to scrape at your scalp, gently tugging on any knots and travelling all the way down to the nape of your neck, before travelling all the way back up again as she repeated the same motion over and over. you closed your eyes and tried your very best to focus only on your fiancée’s touch, rather than the pain that still seared just below your belly button, a task easier said than done.

eventually the blue lights flickered behind your eyelids, and the high pitched screech of the siren blasted throughout the stadium, alerting the few that weren’t already aware, that there was an emergency of some kind on the pitch. the vehicle came to a steady halt only a few feet away, eliminating as much walking distance as it physically could for you. the back doors swung open and two paramedics jumped out, a man and a woman who sussed you out pretty quickly, being the only obvious pregnant woman.

as they helped you into the back of the ambulance, alexia clung onto you the whole way, refusing to depart from you for even a second as if you were her life line. her hand stayed gripped onto yours, whilst her other stuck to your lower back whilst she gently guided you up the two stairs attached to the ambulance.

the barca girls said their goodbyes, wishing you well and telling alexia to keep them updated, though you weren’t sure if the blonde registered their requests, her body language showing no indication that she acknowledged them at all, but they didn’t take it to heart. they knew she would get into contact with them when everything had settled, hopefully with good news.

now, hours later, it was just yourself and alexia sat in a dimly lit hospital room, you laid back on the bed with alexia sat on the small couch that she had pulled up to the bed so that she could sit with her hand in yours, her thumb stroking your knuckles. you were both enjoying the peace and quiet after the long and stressful day you had both just endured, one you were both glad to see the back of.

the doctors had been in and out continuously, after their initial tests when you had arrived they were in good spirits about the health of your baby. they had let you know that everything seemed okay, the only concern they had was the baby’s heartbeat which was a little faster than normal but they reassured you that was more than likely due to the scare it had when you had fallen into the barrier with quite some force. still, they kept you in just to be sure, returning to the room every hour or so to do regular checks.

alexia was still clad in her barcelona kit, captain armband and all, even after you had reassured her you would be fine for an hour or so if she wanted to head home, shower and get herself into something a little comfier. she had only given you a look as if you had openly insulted her, adamant that she should stay with you to be sure that she was here if anything happened. she would never be able to forgive herself if she had left and things took a turn for the worse.

“how are you feeling now mi amor? are you still getting any pains?” she asked, her hands squeezing yours as she did.

“nope, they faded off awhile ago baby. there’s a little pressure but it’s not painful, maybe a little uncomfortable but i can deal with it.” you explained to her as best as you could, smoothing your spare hand over your clothed bump with an affectionate grin.

she nodded at your response, knowing there wasn’t anything she could do except be grateful that you were at least no longer in pain.

“i was so scared when i saw you, the way he pushed you, my heart dropped into my stomach i thought i was going to pass out from the panic i felt.”

you looked towards alexia with a frown, noticing the far away look in her eye as she spoke, her gaze was fixated on the bedsheets you were laid under as if she was replaying the earlier events in her head which didn’t surprise you one bit.

“hey, look at me.” you pulled at her hand, jerking her body forward slightly so that she was torn from her never ending, doom and gloom filled thoughts. her hazel eyes met yours and you felt your heart clench at the clear anxiety still present in them.

“i’m okay, the baby is okay, you’re okay. we’re all okay.” you spoke with confidence, making sure she believed every word coming out of your mouth. “i can’t imagine how scary it was to witness what you did, and i know it’s going to leave you shaken up for a long time but baby, everything is fine. in a few hours we’ll be dismissed, we’ll be back at home and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

you weren’t sure if those words were the right ones, but you did notice how alexia’s shoulders visibly softened and the grip on your hand fizzled ever so slightly, so you figured you must’ve said something she needed to hear. the star player nodded her head, her eyes momentarily flickering towards the monitor that kept record of the baby’s heartbeat before they returned to yours, this time her lips quirked upwards slightly and you were relieved to see her slowly returning the light hearted woman you knew her to be.

“you’re right, mi amor. and i am so glad you are okay, you mean everything to me. i hope you know that.”

you smiled at that, leaning forward to plant an appreciative kiss to the woman’s lips at her heartwarming words. “trust me ale, i know. and the feeling is wholeheartedly mutual.”

her grin mirrored yours, and you both shared another kiss, this one lasting a few seconds longer than the one prior. this time when you pulled away, alexia’s expression had transformed into a more serious one, her eyes darkening ever so slightly.

“that security guard will never be allowed back at any of our games again. not after today, he’s lucky he left in one piece, if you hadn’t been my main focus i would have done something i couldn’t undo.” she spat, her tone filled with venom towards the man who was the reason you were stuck in a hospital room right now.

“well it’s a good job i was then, huh?” you nudged her playfully, “though i appreciate the sentiment, i’m glad you didn’t end up doing something that could’ve potentially ruined your career.”

she hummed at that, “well he should think himself lucky that you’re okay, both of you. or else he’d be dealing with something else entirely.”

you didn’t respond to that, only smiled at the woman who was so fiercely protective over you and your unborn child, something that you found incredibly endearing.

just as you were about to ask if she was sure she didn’t want to return home to get a much needed shower and change of clothes, the door once again creaked open, and you looked over expecting to see the doctor that had been assigned to you. but instead, your brow arched in confusion when a head peaked around the slightly ajar door, one that certainly did not belong to the doctor.

instead, the blonde looked to you and alexia with a cheeky grin, with what looked like a ‘get well soon’ balloon floating in and out of the room behind her. “lo siento, but when alexia told me you were okay i had to come down and check for myself.”

mapi explained herself, and you smiled at the defender who was clearly itching to be invited into the room by alexia, who seemed to be stuck between amusement and annoyance at the impatience of her dear friend.

“is it just you?” alexia asked, rising to her feet for the first time since you had both been here.

“um, well.” mapi’s voice trailed off as she pushed the door wider, the culprits who had been exposed tensing up as they were now revealed to their captain, and you had to hold back your laughter at their nervous smiles.

alexia sighed at the sight of her teammates. patri, claudia, ona, salma, vicky and even aitana all stood in a huddle behind mapi who had obviously been elected as the one to enter the room first, the rest fearing the wrath of the great alexia putella’s if they entered at the wrong time.

“dios mío, you guys couldn’t have just waited to see us?” alexia sighed, and you hushed her.

“it’s okay bebé, i think it’s sweet. let them come in.” you told your fiancée who looked at you to make sure you were okay with it, when you nodded your head in response, she shook hers at your soft heart, but gestured for the girls to enter anyways which they did in seconds.

“where’s ingrid? i’m surprised she let you do this.” you asked mapi who was busying herself by tying the balloon to the side of your bed.

“oh she’s waiting in the car. incase alexia kicked us all out.”

(sorry i am awful at endings but i hope you enjoyed this)

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