#for you: 4 o’clock

[youaremysoulmate1330]

Give us Taehyung’s SoundCloud songs on streaming platforms you cowards!!!

[crucifixionstream]

gotta watch the damn qsmp vods cause i was on the BUS

[the-multiverse-theory]

crazies in my notes now claiming that friends used to fuck each other before people got all “weirded out by intimacy” like. babygirl what does that mean. do you think the industrial revolution invented the divide between romantic sexual and platonic. do you think people didn’t have words for different types of relationships before now

[writers-potion]

Writing Character Accents in Fiction

Hey there, thanks for the question! I speak English as a second language; most English speakers I encounter aren’t native (yes, including fictional people); thus, this is a concern I’ve explored personally when I write. 

I think the core principle regarding accent writing is this: it shouldn’t be distracting. 

For the same reasons why Stephen King prescribes the basic dialogue tag “said” rather than fancier alternatives like “whispered”, “shouted” or “screeched”, dialogue must be first and foremost easy to read. It must flow like a real conversation – the pace and tone are a lot more important than how specific words are being pronounced by the character. 

Focus on what effect the accent has:

Using adjectives to describe their voice in general. Different types of English (American, British, Australian, etc.) will give off a different vibe, also partly dependent on how your character speaks in general:

Lilting: Having a smooth rise and falling quality; sing-song like. Welsh accent is often described as singing. 

Posh: from a high social class. This is the term generally used to describe the upper-class British accent.

Nasal: this happens when the sound goes through somebody’s nose when they’re speaking. North American accents are more nasal than, say, British pronunciations. 

Brash: harsh, loud, indicative of sounding a little rude. 

Slur: speaking indistinctly; words merging into one another.

Using metaphors.

Her voice was cotton and fluffy clouds. 

When he spoke, the ‘r’s scratched the insides of his throat. 

Mentioning their accent with a brief example(s). 

“Would you like to drink some wine?” she said, though her Indian accent gave extra vibration to her ‘w’s and ‘r’s, making the words sound more like ‘vould you like to drrrink some vine’.

“I want some chocolate.” His syllables were choppy and ‘l’s rather flat, saying ��cho-ko-lit’. 

Some Tips:

Don’t phonically spell out everything. Perhaps give a few examples in the beginning, but stick to standard English spellings. 

Pay attention to word choice, slang, and colloquialisms. 

An Australian person would say “tram”, not “trolley; “runners” instead of “sneakers”

A Canadian may refer to a “fire hall” – what Americans call a firehouse or fire station

If your character comes from a non-Enligsh background:

Use vocabulary from other languages. 

“What time was the exam, ah? Two o’clock? Jiayou!” → putting “ah” or “la” at the end of sentences + Jiayou means “break a leg” in Singlish. 

“I can’t believe that 4-year-olds have their own SNS accounts now.” → “SNS” is short for “social networking service”, a term used to refer to social media in Korea. This would a subtle difference – even though it isn’t technically Korean at all!

Transpose grammar from different languages. 

For example, in French, plural nouns take plural adjectives (whereas in English, you would speak of ‘white cars’, not ‘whites cars’).

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[sanguinaryrot]

anyways I an a little bit set on knocking down the library and redoing it with only one story. It will still be a little bit huge but at least it won’t be grossly oversized. this is a pain because it took me a very long time to perfect the roof and now I have to redo the whole thing 5 blocks lower and also i wasted all this time dying terracotta green but. what the fuck ever

[thebibliosphere]

Have you ever vomited so hard you not only wrecked your throat but dislocated your collarbone?

How about a migraine so bad it triggers your mast cells into a pre-anaphylactic reaction and you start breaking out in hives all over your body?

Yeah. Me neither until 4 o’clock this morning.

New level of hell unlocked.

And the migraine is still ongoing. I’m just no longer blind and dry-heaving.

I hate this.

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

❝ AND THE DANCE FLOOR IS FILLING UP WITH BLOOD, BUT OH LORD, YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE! ❞

WORD COUNT — 17k

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, unrealistic circumstances, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst, medium long hair!gyu bc self-indulgence, tsundere-ish reader again guys sorry i love her so bad, mentions of parental neglect, this ended up so long help

♪ verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex,, florence + the machine - mermaids,, zayn - bordersz,, mikky ekko - who are you, really?,, q - alone,, danna paola - tenemos que hablar,, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, summer camp - i want you

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. the music recs above are also really nice to get into the vibe! enjoyyyy :D

[ ONE ] ✧˚ · .⋆ ★ [ JUMP TO PART TWO ]

i. ASK ME THE TRUTH AND I’LL TELL YOU A LIE

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police receives a call from you, saying your father hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector — whose name you did not bother remembering — before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what exactly happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that were the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

all you can do is sigh. “i was his daughter in blood and name only. nothing more.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

leaning back in your chair, you list a few things. “he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.” you state. like always, there’s a tangible coldness to your voice, which he finds soothing, for whatever reason.

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair.

you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

ii. THE HATRED WE BEAR

you find yourself staring at your father’s tombstone with a numb face and the wind breezing through your hair. your makeup is slightly smudged under your eyes from the tears you shed just an hour before, while you were giving the public a final speech regarding his passing.

the funeral was long — too long.

at a certain point, once the whole thing was done and everyone left, you decided to take a quiet moment for yourself in the graveyard to let everything sink in.

you made the mistake of thinking you’d left alone.

a voice you’re too familiar with speaks up behind you. “i’m sorry for your loss.”

of course it’s kim mingyu out of all people who’s still here, sneaking up on you.

you don’t have the energy to make a snarky comment this time. “i’d ask why you’re still here, but it’s a question i already know the answer to.”

he still offers you his answer. “i’m here to check up on you.”

well, that takes you by surprise. “why?”

“you lost the one parent you had left. i don’t want you to be alone.”

something about that sentence fuels a sudden anger in you. he’s got some fucking nerve, saying that to you. “maybe you should’ve considered that a couple years ago. you know, before you decided to become my dad’s little protege.”

even as a little girl, your bond with your father was a shitty one. your mother passed when you were young, so you barely have any memories left of her.

in an attempt to win his love and affection, you always did everything your father asked of you, yet your efforts were hardly acknowledged. you found him to be a harsh and cruel man, but surely with you being his daughter, his only child, he must’ve cared for you. or so you always told yourself.

something about your yearning for his approval and support changed for the worse when mingyu’s mother became a prominent business partner to your father, about nine years ago. it made him spend more time with the kim family, and you have no idea how or why it happened, but mingyu became like a son for him.

you saw how well your dad treated him, and you cried for a long, long time as you compared it to his neglect towards you. for every pat on mingyu’s back, you got scolded for not being good enough. whenever he got praised, you got discarded. it’s no miracle that you came to be the way that you are. detached, perceptive, appearing to be just as unfeeling as the man who raised you.

you hated your father. with all your heart.

but you grew to hate kim mingyu more.

so to hear him say that he doesn’t want you to be alone — that takes the goddamn cake.

he lowers his head at your words. “it wasn’t like that.”

“right. of course it wasn’t.” your voice is painfully spiteful.

“i wouldn’t have done it if i knew it was at your expense. i’m sorry.”

he’s trying to be nice to you, not understanding yet that it’s actually doing more damage, making you angrier. “the last thing i want is your fucking pity.”

“then what do you want?”

“nothing you can give me.” it’s a subtle final warning coming from you, because you’re actually about to explode at him. “just leave me be.”

“please, just... i wanna help you.”

like a ticking time bomb, you suddenly hit your limit. finally, you turn around, facing him, and it’s only then that he truly sees how upset you are, like a storm suddenly changing its direction, and he’s in the way.

“help me? you’d help me by getting the fuck out of my face. you wanna know what i want, mingyu? i want to know what in god’s name everyone loves so much about you, what it is that made my father shut me out completely and replace me with you. he gave you more love than he ever gave me. just looking at you makes me sick. what the fuck did he see in you that he didn’t see in me?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from pouring your emotions out to the guy in front of you. “why did he hate me so much? even in death, he favors you over me. he left you... everything. a final ‘fuck you’ to his own child. and for what? for you?”

the fact that you got word from your father’s lawyer that your father chose to leave everything he had to mingyu instead of you was like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

throughout your life, you always did what was expected of you. you were the perfect daughter.

and for what?

the fact that your father grew to hate you and love this asshole so much that he left you not a single penny to your name — that is your tipping point.

and mingyu just wordlessly allows you to continue ranting, almost as if he deserves it.

“what the fuck is so special about you, huh? because i don’t get it. sure, you’ve got a nice face and you’re a smart guy, but i don’t believe you actually give a shit about others. i bet you came here today to rub my dad’s inheritance in my face — you fucking pretentious douchebag.”

“i’m sorry. i never meant—” he stumbles, nearly falling over as he backs away while you keep stepping forward, feeling surprisingly small in front of you, in spite of his tall frame.

“i don’t give a shit if this is what you intended to happen or not! i’m all alone.” you show your sadness right between the anger and hostility, vulnerable in front of him. “no family like everyone else, no money, no house, nothing. abandoned by the one person i had left.”

he looks at you as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. he’s never even shown you a hint of vulnerability — nor have you for that matter — so why is he showing it now?

you’re too deep into your breakdown to think rationally about it. “you took literally everything that i had. and i’ll never forgive you for that.”

“please, let me—let me fix it.” he chokes out, as overwhelmed by your strong emotions as you are yourself.

the harshness of your words makes him feel like he’s crumbling in your presence. “talk to me like you care about me one more goddamn time, and i’ll make you regret ever meeting me in the first place.”

in all the years that you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him flinch — you doubt any of your words have ever hurt him.

until this moment, it seems. but why is he even hurt? you don’t care about him and he doesn’t care about you. it’s always been that way, and you have a hard time believing it’ll ever change.

the moment you walk away from him with a sharp pain in your chest, pushing him to the side by his shoulder, he’s left behind in a shocked and bewildered state, neither of you aware that a pair of curious eyes witnessed the whole exchange.

iii. ULTERIOR MOTIVES

“the full inheritance of your father has been transferred over to you.”

the cup of tea you were raising stills with your hand. your eyes narrow at your lawyer as you’re seated in the garden of your father’s estate. “what—how? why? it wasn’t passed down to me.”

“no, but the person it was passed down to can always make the decision to pass it on. and he did — surprisingly with no strings attached,” he tells you, putting the document from the notary in front of you, “i had it all double-checked. everything’s there, the documents signed by kim mingyu himself.”

just hearing the name makes you grimace, putting you off your tea. “and there’s absolutely nothing he wants from me?”

“nothing was mentioned, no. he did, however, leave you a note.”

“what does it say?”

your lawyer raises his brow as he reads it, handing it to you instead of reading it out loud, which makes you give him a puzzled look before casting your eyes downwards to the piece of paper.

tomorrow, 4:30, my apartment. all you have to do is sign the papers. i look forward to the day you’ll make me regret meeting you.

“that asshole.” you mutter to yourself, not loud enough for your lawyer to hear it, but he’s certainly got an idea of how you feel about the whole situation.

“you do, of course, always have the option to reject the inheritance, but i would highly recommend not to. frankly, in all of my years of experience in this field, i’ve never felt a bigger need to encourage a client to take a deal.”

once you’ve picked up the documents and skimmed over the words, you look back at him. “and if i did accept it, it wouldn’t contain any possible implications for me in the long term?”

“none. it is... fairly remarkable he’s willing to give you the full inheritance for nothing in return, even if he and his family are known for their wealth. but it wouldn’t be a significant loss for him, considering the capital he already has to his name.” the man explains, not needing to spell it out for you.

you put down your cup. “knowing him, i’m not so sure he doesn’t want anything. i suppose i’ll have to talk to him about it myself, tomorrow.”

your lawyer highly encourages you to do so, leaving you to spend the rest of the day wondering what he could possibly want from you.

and so the following day, at 4:30 sharp, you step into his apartment — penthouse is the more fitting term. you’ll admit, though, that he’s got style.

it’s dead silent in his place, save for the metronome in the background and the slow brew of his coffee machine. he’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with black trousers as he approaches you. “glad you could make it. coffee?”

“why are you willing to give me the inheritance?” you ask directly, not feeling up for the unnecessary chitchat. you’ve always hated small talk. “if it was just a set-up, i’m leaving.”

he doesn’t seem to be even the slightest bit surprised by your forwardness. “i’m willing to give it to you because a) i don’t need it, and b) i don’t want it. i think it’s ridiculous your dad set up his will like this.”

“well, that makes two of us.” you fake a polite smile, clearly very sarcastically, putting your hand on your hip. “you asked me to come sign the papers, but i have yet to see them.”

mingyu smiles a little at you. of course you’d skip straight to business — you never were a girl of many words. he walks over to a cupboard and takes a sealed folder with the documents out of a drawer, handing it to you.

when you attempt to take the folder from him, he swiftly retracts his hand like the asshole he is. “it’s not completely free, though.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “of course. i should’ve known better than to believe you were willing to do something out of the kindness of your own heart.”

he just keeps going as if he didn’t hear you, very much used to the little quips you throw at him by now. “don’t worry, i think you can manage this very small task for me.”

“just tell me what you want already—”

“my family’s hosting a gala next week, on friday. i’d like you to be my date.”

you’re baffled. this is what he wants in return for the inheritance worth millions of dollars? to have you on his arm for a single night?

oh, hell no. you’re not falling for it.

“why? you wanna publicly humiliate me or something?” you question, a deep frown settled in your forehead.

he huffs, annoyed that you’d think that low of him. “i know we’ve always hated eachother, but, maybe, during a hard time… it would be nice to have one relaxed night. and yeah, i wouldn’t mind doing that with a pretty girl to keep me company. what do you say? deal?”

not once in all the years you’ve known him has he ever called you pretty.

“fine. but don’t think about pulling any stunts.”

“wouldn’t dare.” his smile sits somewhere beween teasing and serious when he finally hands you the papers.

you sit down and briefly scan the documents, not signing them right away to have them checked by your lawyer first. “if everything in this is according to the plan, you’ll have them signed by tomorrow morning.”

“okay. see you friday.” he winks at you, escorting you to his front door, a subtle grin on his face that gives off the impression he’s planning something, and you can only imagine what it might be.

there is one good thing about having to spend time in his family home, though — and that’s to search his rooms to find anything that might implicate him having something to do with your father’s murder.

since there’s still a culprit to be named.

with your own agenda in mind, you walk out of his apartment, searching for the name of your stylist in your contacts.

you’re going to need a dress, after all.

iv. A PROPOSAL

with a stern look on your face, you look at the entrance of the gala from the tinted window of your car. it’s all bright lights and colorful decorations, candles, flowers — the kim family is well known for their luxurious and memorable parties. you’ve attended plenty of them. while you and mingyu may not get along, his sister and mother are genuine sweethearts, some of the kindest and most welcoming people you know.

if only you could say the same for the asshole you’re about to spend the evening with.

after checking your makeup in the pocket-sized mirror for a final time, your driver opens your door so you can step out of the car, which leaves you on your own in front of the stairs.

mingyu originally mentioned he wanted to pick you up at your home like the gentleman he very much claims to be, but you very quickly shut the idea down and told him you’d just meet him at his family’s mansion.

so here you are.

attending a gala only a month after your father’s funeral must seem like an… interesting choice, to say the least. the people you come across express their condolences and ask if you’re doing well — you wonder if the sentiment is real or not — and you tell them you’re here because it serves well as a distraction.

you’ve become an excellent liar over the years.

as you’re standing at the top of the stairs, leaning on the railing, you observe the people on the dance floor below. those who aren’t dancing are chattering, the noises of clinking glasses and laughter filling your ears.

most of the time, you’re able to somewhat enjoy this life. but the truth is that it can be as exhausting as it is glamorous.

but with your last living parent gone, you do feel a sense of freedom, even if it is lonely at times.

not like you didn’t feel lonely when he was still alive.

you didn’t love him or care for your father. you cared for the hope that someday he would change. that he would show you he did care for you, even a little bit.

but that day never came.

he was primarily an investor, so at least you haven’t been burdened with having to take over a business or anything like it. having no siblings either, you feel like you should take this opportunity to start fresh; focus on building your own career and use your father’s money for things he’d never approve of.

suddenly, you spot your date in the midst of the crowd, breaking you out of your train of thoughts. his half-long hair looks pretty on him, you have to admit, the few strands in front of his face paired with the tailored, navy suit giving him the appearance of a model.

he’s currently talking to an older woman who clearly seems to adore him, the smile he puts up making her give him a gentle, loving squeeze on his upper arms. like always, no one is able to read the bitterness you feel as your face remains neutral.

growing up in your restricted social circle of the country’s wealthiest families, your group of peers wasn’t extremely big. you all went to the same primary school, same private high school. mingyu was always one of if not the most popular kid at school. an effortless ace at every fucking thing. everyone loved him, be it your peers or their parents.

you wouldn’t say you weren’t popular. quite the opposite, actually. your best friend was the queen bee of the school, as she was always striving to be the best in everything. top of the class, highest achievements, a true perfectionist at heart. bold, definitely a bit judgemental and classist too, but once she’s your friend, she’s the sweetest girl in the world. she did like to dabble in some drama with others if it came onto her path.

and you were the opposite. you preferred to steer clear of any drama, much preferring to watch it unfold from the sidelines — as you usually just didn’t care enough to interfere with it — and you were never quite as talkative as your best friend.

the sentences leaving your mouth are always quick, direct, sharp and without stutter. you’re masterful at small talk, even though you hate it. you know how to play people like a fiddle. your father made you use your manipulation skills to good use rather frequently.

many consider you cold and calculated.

which is true, of course. but you still have a heart, even if it barely beats.

the outburst you gave mingyu after your father’s funeral must’ve come as a shock to him. no one has ever seen you in such a vulnerable and weak state, and out of all the people who could’ve seen it, it naturally had to be him — and that makes you uncomfortable.

once he’s finished his conversation, he looks in front of him, then up at the balcony — and he locks eyes with you.

you give him a look of acknowledgment, but that’s it. he doesn’t seem to mind, though, still shining as brightly as ever, making his way up the stairs as fast as he can. “i’m sorry i wasn’t at the entrance to greet you, i didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“it’s fine.”

he glances up and down, admiring the dress you chose. “you look gorgeous.”

the deeply dark green dress with its boat neckline, long and fitted sleeves and intricate gold embroidery makes you look elegant. with the dress itself already being quite the statement piece, you chose to pair it with dainty earrings, your hair half-up and curled.

“thank you.” you don’t bother saying anything about his appearance. he must be used to it at this point.

“can i get you something to drink?”

you test the waters by throwing in a joke. “what, planning on poisoning me?”

his eyes flicker for a moment, stricken by something you can’t quite place, which makes you blink at him. his flirtatious and charming self returns within a mere second, and he proceeds to snicker at your joke. “i could, but where’d be the fun in that?”

rolling your eyes at him, you take his arm once he’s offered it, keeping in mind you’re doing this for the inheritance.

the time goes by quicker than expected. he introduces you to some of the people he’s close with, tells you stories you’ve never heard before, even asks you about yours.

a few of his friends come by as well, surprised to see you by mingyu’s side. most people your age here know that you and him have never quite gotten along, to put it lightly.

when they subtly ask about it, mingyu tells them he insisted you came to distract yourself from the death of your father, and that you could probably use a party.

it raises more question marks as to what his motive is for asking you to be here tonight. what is he gaining from this? he hasn’t humiliated you yet. if anything, he’s only spoken of you highly, save for the little snark he keeps between the two of you.

it’s strange. really strange.

after a while, once all the guests have been drinking a bit, you decide to set your own plan in motion. this might be your only chance to snoop around here, as you doubt you’ll find yourself in here again anytime soon.

you’re literally invited in his home — you’d be a fool not to check his room.

unfortunately, just as you try to disappear from the crowd, mingyu extends his hand to you. “dance with me?”

just as you’re about to refuse him, you remember that this is the one night you have to be nice to him, all so he can give you the inheritance that was meant to be yours in the first place.

with a small sigh, you slide your hand in his, at which he grins triumphantly.

before you know it, you’re in the middle of the room together, and he has his one hand on your lower back, the other hand intertwined with yours. he’s smooth with his moves, you have to admit.

the question has already left your mouth when you process it. “why am i here? i’m sure there’s a reason i needed to be your date tonight.”

mingyu cocks his head at you. “i think you’ve had to endure a lot the past couple weeks. the incident, the interrogations, the press, the shit with the inheritance — i’m impressed you haven’t lost your mind yet.”

“how do you know i haven’t?” you ask, and he twirls you around, his hands feeling like they’re burning on your skin. “wasn’t my breakdown after the funeral enough to prove you otherwise?”

“well, looking back, i should’ve probably left you alone in that moment. but i did think about what you said, and you can correct me if i’m wrong, but i feel like your father and our ties to him were what made us hate eachother so much. now that he’s gone, maybe we can… i don’t know. tolerate one another.”

you make sure to hide your confusion from him. does he really not see it? sure, the main reason you’ve always despised mingyu was because of his relationship with your father, but you weren’t exactly best friends before that either.

even putting it like that would still make it the understatement of the year.

if he actually pictures the two of you becoming friends, though, he’s lost it.

unsure of what to tell him, you give him a shitty excuse to escape the conversation. “i’m just gonna use the ladies’ room, if you don’t mind.” you let mingyu know, and he nods at you in acknowledgement, caught off guard by you leaving so suddenly.

so you walk off, the voices of the people and the music in the hall fading into the background as you trail off.

now that you’re alone, you can finally go check his room.

it’s harder to navigate the mansion than you thought. hallways that all look similar, god knows how many rooms — you hope you won’t get lost here.

one of your best friends is good friends with mingyu’s sister, and so she knows the place like the back of her hand. when you asked her for the layout of the place, she did think it strange, but you told her she had nothing to worry about.

mingyu’s bedroom and study are supposedly on the third floor of the east wing, and the party takes place in the west wing.

so that’s just fucking great.

your best friend did warn you that he most often keeps his doors locked whenever visitors are present, so to ensure you could get in, you snatched the key from his pocket when he was dancing with you earlier.

it almost makes you chuckle when you think about how easy it was.

when you’ve finally arrived at what seems to be the door to mingyu’s room, you double-check the environment around you to see whether anyone’s following you, and when it appears to be safe, you shove the key into the lock, twisting it.

you exhale when realizing it’s the right key.

entering the room, you quickly shut it behind you, taking in the sight.

it’s raining outside, which you take notice of through the large windows. several paintings adorn the walls — you didn’t know he was a lover of art — as well as some photos of him with his family.

the room is surprisingly tidy, his clothes all neatly folded on the wooden planks in his closet and the drawers underneath. the few books he has sitting on top of the cupboard are gathering dust — you suppose he doesn’t like to read all that much.

of course he doesn’t.

his king-sized bed seems soft and comfortable, and the room smells of the cologne and perfume he always wears.

you blink a few times, realizing you’re dwelling too much on details that are not a priority right now.

which is enough to snap you awake, a rush of adrenaline moving through your veins as you look for anything interesting. files, documents, notebooks — anything.

you find his agenda in a drawer of his desk. with slightly trembling fingers, you move the pages back to the date of your father’s death, as well as the days before that.

as you’re caught up with doing so, you momentarily forget the first rule of breaking into a forbidden space: never turn your back to a door when you should be watching it.

“you know, i’m starting to think you agreeing to be my date came with ulterior motives on your side.” you suddenly hear mingyu’s voice behind you, at which you turn around, looking a bit too guilty for comfort.

your voice almost gets caught up in your throat, but you keep your composure. “if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t plan this.”

“it’s alright.” he responds, closing the door behind him smoothly, as if he doesn’t want you to see it. “you still think i had something to do with your father’s death, don’t you?”

“i’m not sure. i don’t see why you would, now that you’ve given me the inheritance. what other motive could you have?”

all mingyu does is clench his jaw at the rhetorical question. then he snaps out of it, his eyes trailing to the desk you’re currently leaning on. he takes a few steps closer to you, and you raise a brow, waiting in anticipation what he’ll do.

his face is suddenly very close to yours, and you’re almost convinced he’s leaning in to touch you when he reaches for the drawer behind you instead. “well, as a matter of fact, i did have something to show you.”

that surprises you.

“your father always carried a little red notebook with him. it’s the only part of the inheritance i didn’t give you, solely because i wanted to show you myself. there’s a few strange scribblings in it, with locations and numbers, and look at this—” he opens it up in front of you, pointing at the paper with his index finger, “apparently he felt like he was being followed just days before he died. maybe the police is right and he did get murdered.”

“yeah, i already figured he probably pissed off the wrong guy.” when he looks at you hopefully, you shrug. “what?”

“we should check it out, right? find out who killed him.”

you immediately shake your head at his suggestion. “no.”

mingyu’s whole body language changes, genuine confusion overtaking his features. “what do you mean, no?”

“he was caught up in all kinds of shit, things i never wanted to be a part of. that’s no different now that he’s six feet under.”

“are you not the slightest bit curious who killed him?”

“frankly, no, i’m not. i’d say whoever is guilty did me a favor.”

despite your valid point, he persists. “okay, then how about this — what if this person would come after you for whatever reason? don’t you want to know who you’re dealing with?”

you narrow your eyes at him. “why do you care so much, mingyu? i’m sure this is something you could manage on your own.”

the sudden question surprises him, so he shrugs. “maybe i’m not sure why. but i do. and you know i did care for him.”

“why don’t you just let the police handle it?”

“because they don’t know this world — and we have access to places, people they wouldn’t even know where to find or how to deal with. have you talked to the detectives? they’re amateurs.” he answers, pausing before taking a step closer to you. “he’s dead either way, doing a small bit of research might be interesting. who knows what you might find.”

“and you wanna do this with me of all people because...?”

he rolls his eyes at the question. “you were the only other person directly affected by it. c’mon, am i really so bad that you can’t even deal with me for a little while?”

the fact that you just give him a deadpan stare tells him all he needs to know.

it makes you bite your lip. you don’t feel like doing this at all, certainly not with mingyu of all people, but he appears to be ready to do this with or without you.

besides, you do feel up for a little adventure.

“fine, i’ll bite. hypothetically, what if i were interested in finding out who killed him?”

the young man in front of you tilts his head. “then i’d suggest we work together and do some digging.”

pursing your lips, you watch his pleased expression when he notices you’re actually considering it. “why do i feel like i’m gonna regret this?”

“maybe you will. maybe you won’t. we can go right back to hating eachother after this, but for now, we’ll be partners. deal?”

your eyes linger on the hand he’s stretched out to you, and even as you’re hesitant to take it, he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

with a sigh, you shake his hand. “okay. deal.”

v. PARTNERS IN CRIME

“for someone so organized, he sure as hell has a lot of unnecessary shit lying around here.” mingyu mutters, searching through the drawers of the cupboard.

you scoff in agreement. “tell me about it.”

the two of you are rummaging through your father’s study in your home in an attempt to find anything interesting as to what he might’ve been up to the past few years.

so far, you’ve had zero luck with it.

you already figured there’d probably be nothing of interest here, but mingyu insisted, said it would be stupid not to. so here you are.

“you know, i’m pretty sure my dad wouldn’t be as stupid as to just leave traces of his criminal affiliations lying around in his study.”

mingyu shrugs while simultaneously looking into a drawer. “you never know.”

“he was an asshole, but he was a smart one.” you mumble to yourself as you go through the little notebook mingyu just handed you a few minutes ago.

he watches you with curiosity. “can i ask you something?”

without looking up at him, you give him a rather direct response. “i’m sure you’ll ask me regardless of my answer to that question.”

ever so indifferent, he thinks. if anything, one thing about you he is actually fond of is your unfiltered attitude. more people should be like that. “you said you’d never forgive me for what i did to you."

hearing those words makes you look up at him. you’re surprised he’s taking an approach this straightforward with you. “i know what i said.”

“is there nothing i can do to at least make things more civil between us?”

god, you’re sick of him already.

instead of outright telling him you hate him more than anyone else you know, you cross your arms over your chest and fire a question right back at him. “why do you want things to be different between us? don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over it, now.”

mingyu pauses a moment before he answers you. “i thought about the things you said, when you were upset with me, and i realized i’ve made your life harder without having intended to do so. and yeah, i am losing sleep over it.”

while he does appear earnest, you don’t exactly trust him, so all you do is shrug your shoulders.

he wants to say something right when his phone rings. once he picks up, you figure it must be something business-related, judging by the tone of his voice and formal language.

an apology directed at you leaves his mouth as soon as he’s hit the red button on his screen. “i’m sorry. an important business meeting was moved and i promised my mom i’d be there.”

you’ve met mingyu’s mother a few times, at events. she’s the ceo of a very prominent hotel business. many of the highest ranked hotels around the world are under her care, and she clearly knows what she’s doing, since her business has been thriving for many years at this point. you remember it was her who took over as ceo after mingyu’s father passed in a car accident when he was younger.

“then you better get going.” you tell him, your face not pulling a single muscle. you hope he didn’t think you were going to ask him to stay.

he nods at your words, taking the jacket with his initials embroidered in the tag and slinging it over his arm. “yeah. i’ll call you.” he says, going out the doorway, yet your voice makes him halt in his tracks.

“mingyu.” you say his name to him, an unfamiliar feeling on your tongue, and he turns to look back at you.

he awaits your words, catching the subtle warning in your eyes as you refer back to the question of his you had yet to answer.

“we may be working together now — call us associates, or even partners in crime — but once this is over, we’ll go right back to strangers. let’s just keep this… somewhat professional.”

you find he can be surprisingly hard to read from time to time, for a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. after blankly staring at you for a few seconds, processing the words, he just offers you a little smile and a gentle response. “okay.”

and he walks off, only leaving you more intrigued than before.

for two days, it’s complete radio silence from mingyu. all he asked you over text was if you’d been able to find anything in the study, to which you replied with a simple no. he didn’t say anything else.

you sincerely thought this whole investigation of yours wasn’t actually gonna lead to anything, that it was useless — until now.

it’s eleven o’clock, dark outside, the metronome ticking in the background of your living room as your eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop.

you just got a notification from the bank that someone made a significant withdrawal from one of your father’s bank accounts, one that still needs to be signed over to your name.

question is, who the fuck has access to your father’s bank account besides you?

no one. supposedly.

staring at mingyu’s contact in your phone, you twist your lips, unsure of whether to call him about this or not.

going against your gut, you press on his phone number and wait for him to answer the call.

nothing.

for good measure, you call him a second time. same result.

then it hits you. you spoke to wonwoo last night — he mentioned something about him and mingyu going out together this evening.

wonwoo, thankfully, does pick up his phone. “hey. what’s up?”

“hey. are you with mingyu right now?”

“yeah, why?”

“where are you?”

“uh—” he stutters out an address in the middle of the city, clearly confused by the urgency in your voice. “what’s going on? what do you need mingyu for?”

“well, it’s hard to explain. anyway, i’m coming over.”

“he’s kind of—”

you quickly interrupt him by hanging up. taking your wallet and car keys, you head out. the address wonwoo’s given you is located in the club scene downtown, and you make it there in no-time with the navigation on your phone.

parking your car across the block, you get out and check your phone, heading to wherever wonwoo and mingyu currently are. you usually tend to go for the clubs at the other side of the city, as the vibe feels a little different here, but you’ve been around the neighborhood a couple times, so it’s not entirely unfamiliar to you.

when you arrive at the club, you catch the sight of your friend leaning against the stone wall outside.

jeon wonwoo, all handsome in his expensive jacket and sleek shoes, looks surprised when he notices you of all people coming up to him, even though you told him you were coming. his voice is soft when he greets you. “hey. you gonna tell me what exactly you’re doing here?”

shrugging your shoulders, you put your hands in the pockets of your black coat. “you said you were here with mingyu. i gotta talk to him.”

“right now?”

taking note of his baffled reaction, you tilt your head to the side. “yes, right now. i don’t care if he’s occupied.”

wonwoo brings a cigarette to his lips, pushing the pair of dark-rimmed glasses higher up his nose. “what’s going on with you and him, anyway? i thought you hated each other.”

“we still do.”

“well, something’s changed.”

“believe me, wonwoo, i don’t like him any more than he likes me.”

all he does is narrow his dark eyes at you.

just when you want to open the backdoor to the club, wonwoo stops you. “you do know what kind of establishment this place is, right?”

frowning at him, you open the door just the slightest bit to check whatever he’s getting at, and once you catch sight of the pink and red lights, sensual music and metal poles attached to the ceiling, you momentarily close the door again.

right. this must be one of those clubs that are hidden from the prying eyes of non-customers, to give the illusion there’s nothing going on behind these walls, giving the rich clients some privacy in their activities.

you roll your eyes. “when you said you were going to the club, i didn’t think you meant a strip club.”

“i was about to tell you when you hung up on me.”

“so why are you out here and not in there with him?”

“because i wanted to smoke and he felt like heading into a more secluded space. with company, no doubt.”

oh, this is gonna be fun. since kim mingyu pretty much ruined your life, the very least you can do in return is ruin his night. you briefly chuckle to yourself. “alright. well, have fun smoking.”

“you’re still going in?” he calls after you, and all you can do is scoff.

“you think i care whether kim mingyu’s gonna have a good time or not?”

“forget i asked.” he responds, the hint of a smile tugging at his facial features. “i’ll wait here ‘til you get back.”

you shoot him a knowing smirk before stepping into the club. remaining in the background, you scan the area to see if there’s a glimpse of him somewhere.

at the other side of the bar, a man seems to be on watch in front of a separate hallway, so you figure that’s where the jackpot is.

not bothering to look back at the bartender, whose gaze trails after you, you head over to where you need to be, which is where you’re stopped in your path, as expected.

“these are occupied private rooms, ma’am.” a bouncer tells you.

“look, sir, i…” you begin, coming up with some bullshit excuse to get past him, “i’m pretty sure i saw my boyfriend just go in here with a dancer. all i want is a confirmation, i’m not looking to start drama.”

before the man can respond, you wordlessly hold up a small stack of hundred dollar bills between your index and middle finger, waiting for him to take the bribe.

works like a charm wherever you go.

his demeanor changes once he sees the money. “what’s he look like?”

“tall, dark medium-long hair, brown eyes, pretty handsome — though that’s probably subjective.” you shrug, adding a little fake smile to it. you can get far in life with a little charm and money.

the few generic features seem to be enough for the bouncer to know who you’re talking about. he takes the money from your hand, pointing his finger at one of the more secluded rooms in the back.

“go for room number six.” he says, stepping to the side so you can pass him.

thanking him, you head into the back, the heels of your ankle boots clicking against the floor.

the rooms have their matching numbers on neon signs above them. your eyes curiously take in everything they see, but all rooms grant the people in them privacy with the use of frosted glass.

once you’ve made it to the room with the number six on the sign, you take a breath while your hand rests on the handle.

you enter the room soundlessly. the broad space is dimly lit with its soft lights, a mixture of yellow, pink and red almost convincing you that this place is a mere fever dream.

mingyu is seated on the velvet red couch, his legs spread with a girl in skimpy lingerie dancing between them.

yet his eyes are on you.

with his head tilted down, he looks up at you from beneath his lowered brows, peering right past the bare hips of the girl as if she’s not dancing in front of him at all.

you catch a hint of intrigue in his features. he reaches inside his pocket to hand a small stack of money to the dancer in the exact same way you did with the bouncer only a minute before, and the girl leaves you to your privacy.

“hello to you, too.” he says, not bothering to move a single muscle as he remains on the soft couch.

“next time, answer your damn phone.” you scold him, staring him down with the coldest glare you can muster, and mingyu’s not sure why, but he relishes in it. it doesn’t happen often that someone treats him like this.

“i was occupied.” he casually answers, his hand running through his dark locks.

“well, not anymore.” you grin, handing him your phone to show the photo of the bank transcripts. “apparently, my dead father just took fifty grand out of his account.”

mingyu furrows his brows at the screen. “where?”

“all the way at the other side of the city. question is, who else has access to his account, aside from me?”

“we should go and check the footage.” he says, shrugging his shoulders, and he finally gets up, towering over you again. “i know someone who’s with the municipal authorities, i’ll make the call.”

“right now?” you ask, referring to how deep into the night it is, at which he raises his brow.

“yes, right now. this is the best clue we’ve come across so far. don’t you agree?”

“i do. i just thought you cared more about, y’know, being occupied.” you emphasise the last words with a waving hand, gesturing to the girl that was previously dancing on him, and his flirtatious nature comes right back to him as if it never left.

“why? wanna give me a show before we leave?” he smirks, getting closer, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you, to see what’s lurking underneath your closed-off persona.

fine. both of you can play this game, you think to yourself. “what, are the girls here not enough to get you off?”

“is that a yes?”

“why would you want a lap dance from a girl you can’t stand? i may not like you, mingyu, but i didn’t think you’d stoop so low to go after any woman with a pulse.”

“i feel flattered,” he smiles, eyes trailing down to your exposed collarbones, finding it ridiculously hot in here, “and i don’t particularly like you, either, but we both know you’re gorgeous. besides, i’ve seen you dance at chan’s club. you looked good.”

his honesty almost stuns you in your place. you didn’t think he held that kind of physical attraction towards you, yet it makes you feel good — because you think he’s fucking hot, too.

such a shame that he’s an asshole.

but still, there’s no time to dwell on his words. you have a reputation to uphold and a murder to solve, after all.

so you lean in, whispering your decision. “in your dreams.”

jesus, mingyu thinks, do you even remotely know how much sex appeal you have? it makes him beyond impulsive. “did you know studies have shown that sleeping with someone you can’t stand is arguably the best thing ever?”

you sarcastically reply to him with the exact same tone. “did you know you’d be so much more bearable if you just kept your mouth shut?”

“what? it’s part of my charm.” is all he says in return, snickering a little over your response, and you merely roll your eyes.

“we’ve got a different idea of charm, then.”

“okay, fair enough.” he shrugs, still maintaining the minimal distance between your bodies. “so what do you find charming? i’m dying to know, really.”

“i like men who don’t feel the need to pay for a woman’s touch.” the reply comes fast and sharp as a blade. “i hope you pay them generously, since they have to put up with you out of all people.”

“she didn’t touch me, though. it’s a strip club, not a brothel.”

“how noble of you.” you humorlessly chuckle at him, attitude turning more playful.

“mhm.” mingyu nods his head, the rest of his words sounding lower and suave. “tell me more. c’mon, i’m curious. i gotta know my partner’s preferences, right?”

the look you give your current partner is something. you decide to indulge him this once, face inching closer to his, just to keep things interesting. “i want someone who won’t hold me back. someone who will accept me for who i am — uninhibited.”

there’s something you can’t quite place flashing behind his eyes. it’s close to intrigue, but more intense, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen it in anyone else’s eyes before.

“good to know.” he breathes out, as if your words stole his breath, and you come to the realization that maybe, there’s more to kim mingyu than you thought.

now that he seems to be pretty much speechless, you raise your shoulders. “so, are we heading out or should i tell the dancer to come back in?”

he stutters out a reply, and you find it funny how his attitude is constantly going back and forth between a flustered mess and the most confident guy in the room.

once you’ve returned to the backdoor where you got in, you see wonwoo is still outside, his cigarette put out on the ashtray beside him.

“you leaving?” wonwoo asks, waiting for either of you to answer.

“yeah. duty calls.” mingyu replies while putting his jacket on.

for what it’s worth, wonwoo is actually a dear friend of yours, and one of the few people you show physical affection to, so you give him a kiss on the cheek before walking off. “catch you later, okay?”

he nods, catching mingyu curiously watching the exchange, and when you walk off with him, wonwoo notices him put his hand on your lower back, which you proceed to swat away.

a mere twenty minutes later, you and mingyu are seated in your car in an empty parking lot, looking at a screen displaying street security footage of the bank where the withdrawal was made earlier tonight.

mingyu’s friend seungkwan, who works for the authorities, sent you the footage, and as you’re looking it over, he’s on the phone explaining his observations. “he was wearing a mask and a cap, so we couldn’t recognize him. the car he drove has a license plate that doesn’t match, so likely stolen. he drove from a nearby parking garage to the bank, withdrew the cash, got back in the car and then parked it right here, about six blocks further, in the business district.”

the building the car is parked across is one you’d recognize any time of day. it’s where your father’s main office is — or was — one of the places he never allowed you to get into, or anyone for that matter. it was the only place where he got the peace and quiet he wanted.

you turn your head to glance at mingyu, giving him a knowing look. “that’s where my father’s main office is.”

“you think the guy’s gonna try to break in?”

“if he got his hands on the passcodes and proceeds to wait before the building he always worked in, then yeah, i do.”

you nod in agreement, because he makes a fair point. mingyu looks at the worried expression on your face and decides you’ve gathered enough information now.

he thanks seungkwan and tells him bye before hanging up, then turning his focus to you. “whoever that guy is, if he’s planning on breaking in, we gotta beat him to it.”

“you wanna break into an office on the seventh floor located in a building that neither of us are allowed into? they won’t even let us pass the front desk. i know because i’ve tried.”

he shakes his head. “trust me — we’ll find a way in. i’ve got an idea, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

vi. WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

the following days are spent analyzing and memorizing blueprints, tracking the people entering and exiting the building and checking security in the hope of finding some kind of loophole in the system.

trying to get in through the front door is too risky, so you’ve opted for the roof instead, because there’s several buildings so closeby that you can get into either of the buildings next to it and reach it from there. you’ll get in with a classic heist movie tactic you pray works in real life as well.

ventilation shafts.

so now, you’re both in dark and practical clothing to attempt breaking in. because your plan is mediocre at best.

as you watch from the rooftop of a currently unoccupied office building nearby with a binocular, you face-palm yourself the moment you notice the security set-up is different than anticipated with the blueprints, meaning the ventilation shafts are most likely not accessible. “well, fuck.”

“what’s wrong?”

you hand the binocular to mingyu, and he mimics your previous actions, huffing in annoyance when he sees it too. “shit. what do we do now?”

“nothing.”

“what?”

“our plan was already risky enough, but now that we pretty much don’t even have a way in, we’d be stupid to try. we only have a fifteen-minute window before a security guard comes up the roof again.”

“that’s plenty.”

“it would be, for like — a swat team. we’re amateurs. at this, anyway.”

“speak for yourself.”

“oh, i’m sorry, have you done anything remotely on this scale before?”

“well… no.”

pinching the bridge of your nose, you roll your eyes to yourself. “we should’ve brought wonwoo.”

mingyu is quick to respond with a sarcastic comment. “and tell him what, exactly? ‘hey, we need your help breaking into one of the best-guarded buildings in the city so we can snoop around and try to find a clue leading to a killer’?”

“well, i don’t know if you’ve noticed, gyu, but we quite literally have no other options.”

“we could always try the front door. you’re still his daughter, they might let you in.”

“i really hope that wasn’t an actual suggestion, because if it was, it would highly diminish the idea i have of your intelligence.”

“is this your way of telling me you think i’m smart?”

“well, currently, i think you’re being an idiot, so no.” you retort, stealing the binocular out of his hand again. “god, i’m starting to respect criminals. this shit is difficult to navigate around.”

mingyu chuckles as he adjusts the black baseball cap on his head. “there has to be another way. maybe we could—”

“—get in through an open window.” you interrupt, handing the device over to him. “you see the glass window in the roof of his office? it looks like it’s ajar.”

once he sees it too, he tilts his head. “it’s almost too easy. it’d have to open manually, otherwise we’re screwed.”

you can only shrug. “it’s only a modern interior on the inside, the building itself is older, so the odds might be on our side. besides, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“can’t argue with that.” he agrees, checking the other buildings around to figure out the best approach.

you watch him as he’s distracted. he’s fully going for the whole partners-in-crime thing you’ve got going on with him, yet a part of you is still unsure what his motives might be.

but for now, you’ll just focus on the task at hand.

every fifteen minutes, a security guard comes up to the roof, checks everything, stays for a minute or two and leaves again. you’ve been keeping track of it. as soon as the one currently on duty closes the door to the staircase behind him, heading back down, you both start a silent timer on your watches, getting to work.

one thing you discover doing said task is that jumping from roof to roof is really not as easy as they make it seem in the movies. if anything, it’s pretty scary, even if they are relatively close to eachother.

the jump from the last building to the one you need to be on top of has the biggest gap, and mingyu takes a solid leap, landing ever so gracefully.

you shuffle your feet for a moment, making the mistake of looking down. mingyu notices your hesitation and tries to encourage you the best he can. “it looks scary, but it’s a relatively easy jump. i swear. that’s gotta mean something coming from a person with a fear of heights.”

clenching your fists, you try to steady your breathing. “don’t you lie to me, kim.”

there’s something strangely charming about you using his last name whenever you’re scolding him. “c’mon. i’ve always thought you were fearless. you’re not gonna diminish the idea i have of you, right?”

curse him for using your words against you like that.

clenching your fists, you bite your lip, the worst case scenario going through your head over and over.

“just go back a couple steps. steady your breathing, and then you run. okay?”

you don’t respond to his words but do as he says anyways. the jump isn’t even that far, you’re just afraid of tripping.

but you won’t go out embarrassing yourself in front of kim mingyu. your pride is too strong for that.

so you take a deep breath and make a run for it, jumping over the gap and landing on top of the other roof, far away from the edge. mingyu laughs triumphantly. “good job.”

“thanks.” you smile as he helps you up to your feet, and you dust off your jacket, proud of yourself for going through with it.

the two of you walk over to the glass window, and you kneel down, inspecting the lock. thank fuck — it’s so simple that all you have to do is click it open. you’re guessing they probably thought the security walking around was enough.

with your hands covered in gloves, you wiggle them through the gap and crack it open, after which mingyu takes the lead. he lets himself drop into the office silently, looking up at you as a gesture for you to follow him.

you attempt to do the same as him, but you figure he must have strong arm muscles, because you’re barely able to hold yourself up the way he can. he notices your struggle and moves to stand underneath you.

“just let go. i’ll catch you.”

“are you sure?”

he nods, his arms up as if he’s waiting for you to jump right into them. “yeah, yeah. i got you.”

not entirely convinced, you try to drop onto the floor in a way you can still hold yourself up, but mingyu proves himself true to his word when he catches you as easily as drawing his next breath. he looks you in the eye while he has you in his arms, his senses feeling heightened as your clothed skin touches with his.

then you tap on his shoulder, and he lets go of you.

the office is bigger than anticipated. the moonlight from outside is bright enough for you to not need a flashlight, so that’s beneficial.

mingyu is awfully quick on his feet for someone as tall and bulky as him. he’s quiet in every step he takes, which is useful in a situation like this.

while he begins to look through a bunch of drawers, you open cabinet after cabinet, going through some documents that don’t really contain anything interesting.

you turn to look at the desk and the painting on the wall behind it. it’s nothing spectacular — your father never had much of an appreciation for art, so you find it strange he’d even have it up here.

out of sheer curiosity, you try to check if there’s a secret stash behind the painting like in those crime movies.

you have to refrain from laughing when your eyes fall onto the safe in the wall. “hey. gyu.”

he turns around, his entire demeanor changing when he sees what you’ve found. “you’re kidding.”

the safe has a surprisingly easy system. it has four dials, so you need a code with four numbers to get access to whatever’s inside. you change the dials to your birth year for fun, but naturally, it doesn’t work. hell, mingyu’s birth year might have a better shot.

while you try out every combination you can think of, mingyu gets the little notebook out of his pocket — the one that was part of your father’s inheritance. he flips to one of the last pages. “try 9-3-6-8.”

going with his suggestion, you rotate the dials until they have the right numbers, and you hear a click. blinking a few times, you turn the small crank wheel beside the dials and open the safe.

there’s not much inside in terms of quantity, but the things that are in there are no joke.

two gold ingots, a stack of files and a loaded handgun with a silencer attached to it.

“what the fuck was he up to?” mingyu asks rhetorically, inspecting the pistol with care, and you shrug, grabbing the files to put them into the bag you took with you.

“i don’t know, but we should hurry up. we can look at whatever all this is later. clock’s ticking.”

he figures you make a good point, so you hold out your bag, and he puts all of the safe’s contents into it.

you’re both scared to death when you suddenly hear voices coming from the other side of the door. you immediately zip up your bag and close the safe back up, putting the painting right back in front of it.

footsteps come approaching your direction, and you realize you don’t have enough time to get back out of the office without being caught red-handed, so you’ll have to find a place to hide.

just as you’re about to go sit underneath the desk, mingyu doesn’t hesitate to grab you by your hand and pull you against his body, both of you hiding in the small gap between the bookcase and the wall, which is right next to the door.

you almost jump in your place when the door is opened by a security guard, and mingyu puts his hand over your mouth to make sure the guard doesn’t hear you.

thankfully, you’re hidden right behind the door now that it’s opened, but your heart is fucking pounding as your chest is pressed against mingyu’s, and all you can focus on is him.

he’s suffocatingly close to you.

the situation forces you to look at him so closely — like never before. your attention trails down from his dark eyes to the litte mole on the bottom of his nose, the shape of his lips, and the glimpse you catch of the silver chain adorning his collarbones.

it’s the first time you see how big of a man he is. he’s been working out a lot in the past few years, with considerable results — standing this close to him highlights the contrast between his frame and yours.

the footsteps leave the office not long after, and the door closes. you’re finally able to breathe properly when he releases his palm from your mouth, and you inhale and exhale deeply.

“you alright?”

“yeah. that was just — scary.” you respond, cracking a little smile.

he nods, neither of you really moving in your places yet. “you can let go of me, y’know.” mingyu whispers, sounding entirely unconvincing, and you frown before looking to your hand that’s apparently been clutching his jacket this whole time.

“oh, yeah. sorry.”

“it’s okay.” he assures you, pointing to the ceiling. “we should probably head back.”

you agree and sling the bag over your shoulders, on your back. he gets onto the desk first so he can climb out the same window you used to get in, and once he’s gotten up the roof again, he extends his hand to you so he can pull you up.

it doesn’t go smoothly. he’s a little clumsy, but he manages, so you take a breather once you’ve made it out of the office with him. you close the window in the exact position it was before you opened it, and you make it to the safety of the rooftop where you started just twenty minutes ago.

as you quickly go down the stairs of the abandoned building to reach the ground floor, he laughs triumphantly. “holy fucking shit. i can’t believe we actually pulled that off.”

you smile at him with adrenaline still rushing through you, heart still pounding in your chest when you realize what you just did.

and honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever felt that… alive.

a mere fifteen minutes later, you’re seated in a half-empty diner with him. he’s across from you in the booth, elbows on the table as he fiddles with his fingers.

while he looks around the place, you take the files you found in the safe out of your bag so you can look them over.

as your eyes fall onto the first page, you frown.

mingyu notices your gaze. “what’s wrong?”

you switch to the other file folders before scoffing to yourself, realization hitting you. “you gotta be fucking kidding me. they’re tabs he kept on the people around him. the staff at home, his driver... even me. and you. well, looks like he didn’t trust you completely.”

before he can even reply to the subtle dig, you slide the folder with his name on it across the table, and he opens it up, noticing a huge chunk of information on him neatly stashed away in separate documents. there’s even candids there that must’ve been made by a private investigator.

“i knew he was paranoid, but this takes the cake.” you mutter, and you throw the folders back into your bag, and mingyu hands you his so you can take it as well.

“well, this sucks.” he sighs. “those files aren’t of much use, so now we’re back to square one.”

you tilt your head. “that’s not entirely true. we might be able to check where the gun came from, or whose name it’s registered under.”

mingyu hums, lifting the cup to his mouth, whispering a compliment, not really expecting for you to hear it. “smart girl.”

with your bag zipped up and everything off the table again, it’s quiet between you and mingyu for a moment.

“god, i’m starving.” he says as you wait for your food to arrive, and where he’s slightly fidgeting in his place, you sit completely still, looking at him with a frown. once he catches your gaze, he raises a brow at you. “what?”

“do you do this often?”

“eating in a cheap diner?”

“trespassing. breaking in. illegal activities. whatever you wanna call it.”

he shrugs. “occasionally. keeps life interesting, y’know?”

the casualness in his attitude makes you scoff. “sure.”

“you don’t agree?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but then again, you don’t really say much at all.” he says bluntly. he doesn’t mean it as an offensive statement in the slightest, but it would’ve probably sounded better if worded differently.

for a moment, he thinks his impulsivity must’ve upset you, seeing as you remain silent for a moment.

then you laugh at him. the sound is completely new to him, yet strangely soothing to his ears.

“you’re bold, i’ll give you that.” you snicker before taking a sip of your coke. “but i assume you don’t have an issue with people who are on the quieter side, since you’re besties with wonwoo and all.”

mingyu mimics your facial expressions. “yeah, i prefer being around quieter people more. but i didn’t—it came out wrong. i meant, you don’t really, like... show who you are. if that makes sense. even back when we were in high school, you were like a mystery. you still are, to me.”

“is this what this whole partnering-up thing is about? you wanting to unravel the mystery about me? because if it is, i’ll give you credit for the creativity.”

mingyu tilts his head. “well, it’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“if you wanted to get to know me, why didn’t you try years ago?”

“have you met you?”

you roll your eyes. he smirks at you, enjoying your company quite a lot, anticipating whatever it is you’ll say in response.

“you wanna know something, mingyu?”

“yeah.”

“you’re telling me i’m the mysterious one, but i’d say that’s you.”

his playfulness falters a bit, and he shows his confusion instead. “me?”

“mhm. you’re popular, good-looking, charming, all of that — and i think you’ve got layers to yourself that no one even knows about. characteristics no one would ever dare imagine when they think of you.”

his breath hitches in his throat. “why do you think that?”

twisting your lips into a pout, you put your drink back down on the table. “wouldn’t be any fun if i outright told you, would it?”

mingyu narrows his eyes at you. you just shrug, as if to tell him he’ll figure it out, if he’s smart enough.

and he welcomes the challenge.

“okay.” he smiles, biting his lip when he leans back in his seat. “but, hypothetically — what if you’re wrong about me? what if i don’t have those layers you’re talking about?”

you eye him up and down, remaining quiet with your arms crossed over your chest. you’ve always had that attitude. like you know more than everyone else, as if you’re the smartest person in the room. usually, you are. and yet you’re never smug about it, unless someone challenges you to be — you’re always calm, cool, collected. stoic. the fact that wonwoo of all people called you an ice princess years ago says enough.

“i’d be sorely disappointed.”

“so you have high expectations of me?”

“in a way, perhaps. though you’ll have to work a little harder to impress me.”

“tonight wasn’t enough?”

“it was a start. we still loathe eachother, remember?”

“right. i’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

sure, you and kim mingyu hate one another, but he still makes you smile the most anyone has in ages, and you make him feel more alive than anyone else has.

vii. FRIENDS CLOSE, ENEMIES CLOSER

“i’ve got bad news.” you say, tapping your nails on the coffee table in your living room as you have mingyu on speaker.

“okay. do tell.”

“the gun isn’t registered, so we pretty much only have the files as evidence.”

“yeah. i doubt your father put those files together himself, since they seem like the work of a professional. we might be smart to seek out the private investigator who gave him the intel.”

you know he hears you sigh at the other end of the line, and your response hardly sound convincing. “yeah, i guess.”

“what’s wrong?”

it’s quiet for a moment. you speak up with a tension rumbling in your chest. “maybe we should just quit, gyu. i don’t feel like what we’re doing is actually going anywhere. we still don’t have a proper lead.”

then it’s his turn to remain silent, and you swear you can hear his breath shudder. “we’ll get there. it just... takes some time.”

“you sound a little too sure of that.”

“i just think it’d be a waste to not continue after the stunt we pulled last week.”

“what’re we gonna be doing next? breaking into the national bank?”

“something tells me you’d find that exciting.”

well, shit. have you become so transparent that kim mingyu of all people can tell the truth about you?

“maybe i would.” you grumble like a child admitting defeat.

the sound of his laughter echoes through the phone. it subconsciously brings a small smile to your face.

“look, i have a meeting ‘til five. i can come by after to brainstorm about things, pick up some food on the way. are you free tonight?”

“yeah. text me when you’re on the way here.”

“yes, ma’am.” he jests, saying he’s got to go before hanging up. it leaves you to stare at your phone for a minute. a past version of yourself would never believe it if you said mingyu would ever get close to you in the way he has over the past two months. it’s been a strange time. it’s come to the point you’re pretty sure you don’t even hate him as much as you used to.

maybe you don’t even hate him at all anymore. maybe.

but something about admitting that to yourself feels scary, so you put your thoughts elsewhere while secretly looking forward to having him come over again.

it’s a quarter past five when he sends you a message, letting you know he’s picked up the food and on the way to your house, and a mere twenty minutes later, you and him are seated in the lounge on the first floor as he tells you about his day – all while shoving a dumpling into his mouth.

what interrupts you, however, is the noise of your doorbell. mingyu frowns instantly, and you mimic his expression, because you weren’t expecting any more company. “who’s that?”

“no idea.” you shrug, so you get up from your seat, jogging down the stairs with mingyu following you, simultaneously chewing the food in his mouth.

checking the screen beside the door that’s connected to the doorbell, you notice a familiar face standing outside.

“isn’t he the main detective on the investigation?” mingyu asks rhetorically, his body language changing to something more stiff. “what is he doing here?”

“good question. i certainly didn’t invite him, but the guy at the front gate probably told him i was home. fuck — you have to hide.”

“hide? why?”

because the detective thinks you still hate mingyu, so seeing him here would make your story hardly plausible. “because he can’t see you, obviously. get upstairs and stay there. i’ll distract him.” 

“are you sure?”

“yeah, so go!” you push him back with your hands on his chest, and he seems hesitant to leave you by yourself, but he eventually jogs up the stairs again to get out of sight.

the inspector smiles only as a formality. you do the same. you haven’t spoken to him since you indirectly accused him of being an asshole, a while before your father’s funeral.

“good evening. i hope i haven’t come at a bad time. may i come in?”

“i have to take a business call soon, actually, so another time would be—”

“i won’t be long. i assume you’d like to have an update on the investigation?”

well, fuck. he’s got you there, so you’re forced to let him in, but you don’t let him wonder and gesture for him to sit down in the living room, on the couch. you move to take the seat directly across from him to ensure his focus is on you, instead of on the huge staircase behind him.

“am i still at the top of your list?” you ask. when the man tries to find the right words to respond, you scoff, filling in the blanks. of course you still are. “but you have no evidence.” 

“it’s not about evidence — moreso the lack thereof. i’m stuck with two people who each have a solid motive, an alibi that’s far from foolproof, and an important tie to the victim. you cannot deny that.” 

“is this another interrogation? because this is all off-record.”

“not an interrogation. i was just wondering something – back when i spoke to you last, before your father’s funeral, i asked what you could tell me about kim mingyu, your father’s former associate.” hearing him say his name makes you anxious, yet you pull every possible muscle to hide it. “you spoke of him as if he were the devil himself. you clearly hated him, perhaps more than you hated your father.”

“and?”

he pulls something from the inside of his jacket, and you discover they’re a few candids, photos taken of you with mingyu while out in the city. well, that’s just fucking great. you’re gonna have to make use of your top-notch acting skills here.

“i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me asking why you’re suddenly seeing someone you claim to hate as much as you do.”

the blankness of your face dissolves as you adapt a more playful and sassy persona. “you came all the way to my home for this? a few photos?”

“a few photos of my two main suspects together for a reason i cannot think of, yes.”

“you can’t think of a single thing? really? no offense, but i was under the impression you were at least a little clever.”

the man stares at you as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. that can only mean one thing – he’s falling for your act.

what an idiot.

you lean forward in your place, the dry smile remaining on your face. “i fucked him. several times, actually.”

he narrows his eyes at your statement. “i thought you told me you hated him.”

“oh, i do. but a good hate-fuck is the best way to release some frustration. you should try it sometime.” the sound of your voice is monotonous as you utter the words in one go.

“i’ll keep it in mind.” he sarcastically responds with a fake smile, and you copy his body language, pleased to see you’ve made him somewhat uncomfortable.

he clearly wants to change the subject, but you don’t feel like continuing this conversation any longer. “if you’ll excuse me, i really have more pressing matters, so i trust you can see yourself out.”

the inspector huffs a bit, but he knows better than to overstay his welcome. he wordlessly allows you to let you walk him to the door before turning around. “i hope you know who you’re dealing with. not everyone is who they say they are.”

leaving you confused, he looks at you a moment, proceeding to walk out your front door, after which you close it. did he know more than he was willing to let on? what a strange visit.

when you finally decide to turn around, you see mingyu standing in the middle of the stairs, looking a little baffled, at which you roll your eyes.

“why would you tell him that?”

“would you have preferred it if i told him the truth?”

“would that be so bad?”

you scoff, passing him on the staircase. “see, this is what i mean when i say you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

mingyu follows you back up to the lounge. “i’m just saying — maybe it’d make us look less suspicious.”

“it’d do the opposite, gyu. trust me.”

“okay. fine. but out of all the things you could’ve said, why that?”

“well, it made him uncomfortable, making it easier to get him to leave early. and, well… you know what you look like.”

the last sentence really grabs his attention.

“what i look like?” he repeats, knowing damn well what you’re getting at, but he’s eager to hear you spell it out for him.

“well, you’re somewhat good-looking. it’s one of your few strong points, actually.”

“so you think i’m hot?”

“didn’t quite say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“not really. you may be conventionally handsome, gyu, but attraction is a whole different thing.”

“oh, c’mon. admit it. i’m willing to, so…”

“do i need to remind you i said we’d keep things professional? which you agreed to.”

“god, you’re so tough.”

“part of my charm. maybe that’s why you like me so much.”

“i never said i liked you.”

“no, you didn’t have to.” you scoff, laughing at him, and mingyu feels the corners of his lips curling up — because you’re right.

then, as you plop down on the seats in the lounge again, you sigh as you look at the papers scattered across the table.

“you know, it’s been weeks, and we still haven’t got the slightest clue who’s the killer,” you frown, fingers resting on your collarbone, “and if i’m being honest, i doubt we ever will.”

mingyu briefly narrows his eyes at you, proceeding to take his laptop out of his bag. you watch curiously when he silently types away at his keyboard, then turning the device around and clicking on the play button.

suddenly you hear your own voice, and the words — you said those during the interrogations. how the hell did he get his hands on those recordings?

he seems to be able to read your mind. “i’ve got a contact in the force. he sent me the sorted files of everyone who was interrogated. we should probably listen to them, right? after all, we know more about the situation than the detectives.”

blinking a few times, you shrug and nod in agreement, so he increases the volume and presses the button again.

the following two and a half hours are spent listening to the recordings and taking notes of important things. you’re only halfway through them, but doing this the whole time really sucks you dry of energy.

at a certain point, you press the pause button and get up from your seat, moving to the liquor cabinet a few meters away. “you like a good whiskey, right?”

“yeah. how’d you know?”

“i observe and listen. that, and i heard you say it to wonwoo one time.”

he chuckles at your words, watching you take the bottle with two glasses and set it down on the table.

once you’ve poured the liquid into the glass, he takes what you offer him and down it in one go, after which you give him a judgemental stare. “seriously?”

“sorry. had a rough day.”

your gaze softens, and you pour him a second glass as he holds it out. “why?”

“i just… haven’t been feeling great lately. not really sure why.”

well, that’s interesting. “your conscience eating away at you?”

his eyes widen an uncharacteristical amount, and your face is blank for a few moments until you crack a smile. he laughs it off, squeezing his hands together, which you take notice of.

“guess you could say that. no, i don’t know. my sister’s been stressed and she won’t tell me why, which is odd ‘cause she always comes to me — and my mother’s been overworking herself, and i’m worried for her.”

pursing your lips together, you cast your eyes down for a moment.

for some reason, you feel a sense of repulsiveness whenever mingyu speaks of his family like that. as if it’s a reminder of what you didn’t have.

but you don’t show it.

“sounds tough.” you reply, not intending to sound distant — you just find it difficult to know what to say.

what you fail to recognize is that mingyu sees it. he sees your struggle and the emotions you think are so deeply hidden underneath the surface. they actually are, to be honest, but he’s come to know you and with that the way you hold yourself. and he’s suddenly able to read you better.

you’re made of sharp edges only — broken glass on all sides.

he takes another sip of his drink. you down yours in one go.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

mingyu’s eyes curiously follow your every move, the alcohol in his system making him bolder. “how are you holding up?”

“me? ‘m fine. why do you ask?”

“i think mostly ‘cause i’ve asked you a lot of questions, but not that one.”

the words make you silent for a moment, and you let out a knowing sigh when you realize what he’s getting at. “i told you i was glad he died, gyu.”

“i know. but even if you are, you can still find it difficult to deal with.”

you inhale and exhale slowly, leaning back against the wall for a moment, staring into nothing. “i’m not sad that he’s gone. i never will be. but there’s things i wanted to ask him.”

when you don’t continue, he asks you to. “what things?”

“things about my youth, my mother… hell, maybe even about you.” you shrug, chuckling for a brief moment, but the sound is gone as soon as it came. “but i think, mostly, i’d ask if he saw himself in me.”

mingyu is intrigued by your answer. “why would you wanna know that?”

you shrug, your tiredness contributing to you opening up. “because maybe i’d hear the answer i want to hear, and not the one i currently have. my worst nightmare has always been to turn into him.”

“you won’t be like him.” he tries to tell you, but you shake your head.

“i already am. i hated him to the bone, and yet i act like him, sound like him, handle things like him — because he taught me everything i know. at the end of the day, i am my father’s daughter. there’s no changing that.”

“you’re not a bad person. he was.”

“how would you know? he was nice to you. stand-offish, probably, but nice.”

“you don’t think i had an idea of what kind of person he was? i cared for him, but i knew he could be harsh. i caught some bits and pieces when he… yelled at you after our high school graduation.”

you have an almost visceral reaction as he mentions the incident. your father had yelled at you after the graduation, because the best student of your class got a prize on the big podium, and it wasn’t you. and that as a result made your father angry, because being in the top five wasn’t enough — because it should’ve been you.

it was always supposed to be you.

“why did you even want to be around him at all? if you knew how much of an asshole he was all this time.”

mingyu stares at the wall for a few seconds when he thinks about it. “he came into my life when i needed it the most. but looking back, i feel guilty. i shouldn’t have cared for someone like that.”

“like what?”

“someone that cruel. he didn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, not in any way.”

“can only good people be loved?” you ask in return, and he seems positively surprised at your question.

“you’d find love for a bad person?”

“mingyu.” you say his name in a brief chuckle, and it steals his breath away. “do you think you have that much of a choice over who we love? we don’t. that’s what makes it so complicated.”

he seems to grow increasingly stressed with each thing you say, much to your surprise. “but would you want to love someone like that?”

looking away from him for a moment, you think his words over. “if that person was good to me, and had the same values… yeah, i would. trust me, the few people i care about are no saints, and yet i’d go to hell and back for them.”

“am i on that list too?”

you meet his eyes, and his expression is so beautifully genuine, full of raw emotion you’ve never seen him show before. it’s then that it finally hits you — kim mingyu actually cares about you.

the worst thing is that you just might care about him, too.

so you gently smile at him with a light shrug of your shoulders. “maybe.”

he reciprocates it, his brown eyes blown wide as he gazes at you. “i’m glad. you’re on my list too, y’know.”

“am i?” you tease, and he nods cheerfully, happy to have verbalized his appreciation for you. “well, i didn’t really see it coming, that’s for sure.”

your words bring mingyu’s thoughts back to the death of your father, the rift you accused him of causing between the two of you. a wave of guilt comes flooding in once more.

“look, i… i know you may not believe me, but i genuinely feel sorry for what happened. for taking something from you. despite the things i saw and heard, i really was too stupid to see that your dad treated you as badly as he did.”

staring him right in the eye, you don’t fail to catch the earnestness in them. “it’s alright. you’re not half as much to blame as i’ve tried to make myself believe you were.”

the words intrigue him. “how come?”

swallowing the lump in your throat, you press your lips together. “because he didn’t care about me. he never did. maybe he was different before my mother died, maybe he wasn’t. i wouldn’t know.”

mingyu tries to hold his ground as he watches you get emotional. he remains quiet in his spot next to you.

“can i tell you something?” your voice is hesitant and almost inaudible, like a child who’s trying to tell their parent they did something wrong.

when he silently nods, you continue.

“you wanted to know why i hated you, right? well, i...” you pause in an attempt to find the right words, “i felt invisible to my father. like i didn’t matter — i was treated like nothing more than a tool to improve his businesses. but you... he treated you like a son. like a person. and i spent years trying to figure out what i did wrong and you did right, and i just... i didn’t get it. i still don’t. but whatever it was, i was jealous that you had it and i didn’t. and everyone loved you and praised you, be it our friends or their parents. everyone in our social circle. from my point of view, no one had ever uttered a single bad word about you, and then when my father began to take a liking towards you as well... i just hated you. you were my perfect scapegoat.”

the guilt on his face is clear as day. when he parts his lips, you already know he wants to apologize again, but you shake your head, speaking up first.

because you don’t hate him anymore.

“mingyu, there was nothing for you to take away from me to begin with. long before you were even present in his life, he didn’t care for me either.” with the corners of your lips turned down, you continue. “i did everything he asked. perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect social life. but he didn’t care. it’s not often i say people have no heart, but he just… he just didn’t have one. for his job, perhaps, for his business partners — but not for anyone outside of his work. i just didn’t think that would go for his own child, too.”

you reach for your forehead, trying to take his attention away from your face, running your hand through your hair while blinking your tears away. why are you telling him all this?

but it just feels so good to finally get it all out.

“you did the best you could.” he tells you, and you nod with watery eyes.

“i did. and somehow, none of it mattered.”

when the first heavy sob leaves you, you try to hold it back, not wanting him to see you break down.

he doesn’t let you. he moves to sit next to you and takes you into his arms, and for the first time in however long, you let yourself break. the tears are your acknowledgement of the pain it has caused you over the years, the damage that will never quite heal and always follow you wherever you go.

you’re not sure why you’re falling apart this easily. you hardly ever cry anymore, perhaps a few times a year, and you usually feel strong enough to hold it all back when you’re in front of others, but this time — this time, you just can’t.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. it’s okay. you’re alright. he’s gone now.” he whispers into your ear as comfort. “but you’re not alone. not anymore.”

his heart shatters when he internally makes the comparison between the loving family he grew up in and the lonely, broken family you could hardly call home.

“why wasn’t i enough? why didn’t he like me?” you mutter to yourself, having lost control as you cry into mingyu’s neck, clinging onto his body as your chest aches.

“because he couldn’t. he didn’t have it in him to care for anyone. that says more about him than it does about you.” he responds, gently stroking your hair, even pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel… cared for. like you truly matter to someone.

something that feels scary, perhaps even strange, but good.

mingyu’s big arms cage you into his hold, a comforting feeling. to be honest, you wish you could stay with him like this for the whole night. maybe even longer than that.

he rubs your back, feeling the pain in your chest as if it were his own. he’d take all of it if he could. you were damaged in a way that no one deserves, and seeing how much it still affects you and most likely will in the long term, that tears him apart.

the heavy ache in your chest subsides, yet you still cling onto him. you feel the most at ease you’ve ever been with anyone.

“thank you.” you mumble, giving him a tight hug with you wrapping your arms around him ‘till he’s almost suffocating. “i needed that.”

“anytime.”

you eventually finally come down from your breakdown, body slightly twitching as the last tears silently roll down your cheeks.

with your head in his lap, you lay on your side, closing your eyes for a while as the pain in your chest slowly subsides. he’s still rubbing at your clothed skin, and you’re curious if he’s aware it does wonders for calming you down.

“i’m sorry for yelling at you, gyu. after the funeral.” you speak up, voice still raspy. “i was wrong about you.”

mingyu feels his throat tighten up. “it’s okay. i was wrong about you, too. we have more in common than i initially thought we did.”

you wipe your tears away and move to sit upright, finally feeling confident enough to look him in the eye again. “like what?”

both of you are tired. everything that’s happened the past weeks has definitely been causing some sleepless nights for both of you, and with all the alcohol and emotions running high, you’re both feeling a tad drowsy.

he runs a hand through his dark locks. “this part of society — i think it’s exhausting, a lot of the time. full of noise, small talk that’s supposed to hide how cold half these people are, social pressure, all of that. but here, at home, it’s quiet. maybe a little too quiet. the thing is, i have my friends and family that i care about more than anyone else, but i still feel… hollow. like i’m missing something.”

you nod at him. “you can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.”

“yeah.” he sighs. “do you feel it too?”

“well, i may not have a family, but i have my friends. and they mean so much to me, and i can talk to them if i need to, but… yeah. i feel it too.”

he wonders if you feel the same connection that he’s feeling right now. he’s drawn to you like a damn magnet.

mingyu already knows he’s a goner when he gently puts his hand on your cheek. he feels electrified by your presence, your voice, even the way you look at him.

he needs you.

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

his words are enough for your breath to hitch in your throat. you doubt you’ve ever wanted to have someone as much as you do now.

and so you cross a line you never thought you would and press your lips to his, desperately needing his touch.

the kiss is harsh but slow, as if you’re aching to taste eachother. his hand makes its way to the back of your head, the other on your back to pull you closer to him.

his heart might as well be lurching out of his chest. god, he feels that excitement and nervousness as if he were his teenage self sharing a first kiss with his crush — yet whatever feeling is clouding his mind is something darker and deeper, something that transcends what he can describe with words.

he kisses you like his life depends on it. once you’ve both pulled back to get some air, looking the other straight in the eye, it’s like you’re silently admitting that the relationship you share is more than just being partners.

it’s something that comes alarmingly close to love.

the moment is harshly interrupted when his phone rings. he blinks a few times before rolling his eyes at the timing, as he’s still half on top of you.

you can do nothing but wait underneath him as he takes the call, and when he closes his eyes and releases a sigh, you know it’s not positive.

“alright, thank you.” he says before hanging up, turning his focus to you. “the alarm at my apartment in the city was triggered. i gotta check it out, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you mutter out, suddenly unsure of how to talk to him now that you’ve crossed the line that you have.

but mingyu is much more straightforward. his gaze is warm and intense as it finds your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to stay here with you. so he shows you that.

just when your lips are about to touch again, he smirks, gently holding your chin. “i’ll be back for this.”

with those words, he catches his breath and gets up from the couch, after which he jogs down the stairs, and half a minute later, you hear the front doors open and close.

the sound allows you to release the breath you’ve been holding.

what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

READ PART TWO HERE

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[misaamoure]

“Zayneeee oh my god!” You cried out as his thick cock repeatedly slammed into your g spot.

The pleasure was almost incomprehensible as he fucked into you from the back, his hips colliding with the flesh of your plump ass, your glasses practically jumping up and down from the force.

What had started as an innocent trip to Zayne’s office to deliver him a dessert you picked out that you thought he’d particularly like quickly turned into something much filthier.

It was record breakingly hot outside, and you had dressed accordingly.

A powder blue, backless, spaghetti strapped mini dress. A tight one at that, that emphasized your curves.

Upon seeing you in such a garment, in his favorite color no less, Zayne had a rare moment of spontaneity.

You should’ve known something was up when he stretched your greeting kiss out longer than your usual peck.

You seem to always end up in these situations; at the mercy of the pleasure he gave.

Upon fucking your thighs and making you cum once from the delicious friction on your clit, he wasted no time bending you over the desk.

The desk creaked under the movement of both of you.

“Please you need to be… quiet…” Zayne was struggling to be quiet himself.

You were so warm and tight inside, he was losing his fucking mind.

Especially since he waited years to have you again.

Zayne stopped thrusting for a moment, making you whine at the loss of such a mind numbing feeling.

“Why’d you stop?” You peered back at him, looking over your glasses that had been knocked lower on your nose, a sight he simply adored.

He simply couldn’t help but tease you.

Zayne chuckled lightly before grabbing both your wrists and pinning them to your sides.

“Wha-” You were cut off by Zayne grinding his dick into your walls.

It felt like he was in your guts.

You practically screamed before muffling yourself by biting your bottom lip.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes, Zayne, please!” You barely managed to get out before he sped up.

“Fuck back on me. Show me how you want it, (Y/N).”

You tightened around his dick at his words. He was so filthy sometimes.

Who knew Dr. Zayne got down like this?

You whined before doing exactly as he said. You could probably fuck better than him anyways.

He kept your arms pinned at your sides, which made the position all the more tantalizing.

“Hurry,” He breathed out with a groan. “I have an, mmph, 4 o’clock soon.”

Though he smothered his own sounds and barely showed it outwardly, Zayne was feeling it as much as you.

The sight of your disheveled hair and flustered face nearly made him cum right then and there.

He was simply that attracted to you.

He was significantly louder now, enjoying the feeling of you throwing it back on him plus the visual stimulation.

“Yes, just like that,” He threw his head back, letting go of your wrists and instead opting to grab your hips. “That’s so good.”

“Fuck…” You moaned as you sped up. His praise was pushing your further to your orgasm as you angled your thrusts to hit your g spot every time.

“Zayne… gonna cum… I can’t take it anymore…” You once again barely managed to get your words out through the gasps and moans.

This pushed Zayne over the edge that he was barely holding on to.

He completely pulled out before grabbing you by the neck and pulling you upwards, making you gasp.

“I’m sorry.” He gave gave you a short kiss before letting go of your neck.

He didn’t even give you enough time to wonder what for before covering your mouth with his palm and slamming back in to you.

The force of this motion knocking your glasses off your face and onto his desk.

Your screams and moans were muffled as he pounded into you fast, hard, and deep.

He had literally never fucked you like this before, it was like he hated you.

The sheer pleasure of how good he was fucking you made tears run down your face, ruining your mascara.

Your sobs were also muffled into his palm.

Zayne was right in your ear; huffing and moaning louder than he ever has before.

“Inside,” he gasps. “You want it inside?”

You nodded frantically, shouting muffled “yes’s” into his palm.

His thrusts got sloppier as you tightened around him, both your orgasms impending.

His breathing got heavier before he reached down and pinched your clit as he came deep inside you, making you squirt all of his cock.

“Fuckkkk (Y/N).”

You had never heard him gasp and pant like this.

And you’d never felt this level of pleasure before.

You came hard as he slowly fucked into you, riding out your orgasms.

You both relaxed your tensed muscles as your orgasms ended, and Zayne took his palm off your mouth to give you a deep searing kiss.

He pulled away, wiping away some of your mascara riddled tears.

“Thank you for the dessert.”

[luvyeni]

❛NO NUT NOVEMBER❜ ( s. jake )

p. sim jaeyun x fem!reader w. 2.5k+

— 𖦹 warnings. unprotected sex, name calling, dry humping, name calling

— 𖦹 ( making jakes life a living after he challenges himself with his friends in no nut november ) !

OCTOBER 31, 2023 —  THE NIGHT BEFORE !

“What would do if you had to give up sex for a month?” Heeseung asked, “Could you do it?”  Jay scoffed at the question. “You’re asking Jake of all people.” Jake smirked shamelessly — “Me? I could definitely do it, but my girl? No she would kill me if I didn’t give her what she wants.”

And he wasn’t wrong, you and jake were known as the couple who was still in their honeymoon phase — couldn’t keep your hands off each other. “Don’t blame just yn, you both are two nymphomaniac, neither of you could do it.” Sunghoon said. “You wanna bet?”

“You guys want to make this a competition?” Heeseung said. “Who ever wins, the losers have to all pitch in and buys the winner the newest game system.” Jake eyes widened, he couldn’t past this up — but you were gonna kill him, you weren’t gonna be happy. “Fine I can’t wait to get a new game.” Heeseung said, jake scoffed. “Please you’re gonna be jerking off by 1 o’clock.” He stood up.

“Where are you going jake?” Jay said, he checked the time, 8 o’clock. “Where do you think I still have 4 hours, i’m going home to fuck my girl then beg for her not to kill me.”

“Fuck!” You screamed as jake slammed into your sopping cunt, your ankle digging into his back. “Jake i’m cumming!” You moaned, “I’m cumming!” He grunted, fucking into you, soon his warm load was spilling into your cunt. “Fuck baby you feel so good.” He sighed, slipping out of you. “Fuck baby I love your pussy so much.”

He got up to get a rag to clean you off — leaving you to ponder, this sex felt different, like it felt like the sex you’d have have when he was sorry for something. You watched him clean you up, helping you into a pair of his underwear along with his shirt. “What did you do?” Sat up.

He laid down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh. “Well you what No Nut November is right?” Of course you weren’t stupid, you just didn’t think your boyfriend was stupid enough to do something like that — but the look on his face made you think other wise.

“Jake no.” You whined, “i’m sorry baby.” He said. “Why would you even agree to do something like that?” You tried to make sense of it. “A new game system.” He said, you stared blankly at him. “I’ll go buy you the game system now, go get my computer.” You said, he laughed. “No baby, you know I can’t allow you to do that, only I spend money in this relationship.”

“It’s just a month, I swear — besides I can still make you cum in other ways.” All though you love his fingers and his plumps lips — his cock just hit different. “Whenever you need me just need to sit that pretty ass on my face and I can give you what you want.” He smirked. “Or I can use my fingers if you like.” His hands traveled up your legs.

“Let’s go again.” He said, his cock hardening all over again. “No, i’m sleepy.” He whined, knowing you were just punishing him. “Baby please, it’s still 20 minutes left.” He said, but it fell on death ears. “Go jerk off.” You heard him huff, before you heard shuffling and him getting off the bed. “Have fun.” You smirked, you were gonna make him wish he never even thought about this stupid ass challenge.

NOVEMBER — WEEK ONE !

It had been about a week since jake basically put you on a no sex band — you both had been pretty busy with your own separate lives that week, so you were too tired to even think about sex at the end of the day.

But today you both had a day off — and you were definitely feeling needy. “Hi baby.” You walked into the living-room where jake was watching tv. He smiled as you climbed into his lap, his hands resting on your lower back. “Hey princess you okay.”

You nodded, running your hands through his hair. “Just a little bored.” You said, he completely missed what you were implying. “Yeah?” He sighed as you played with his soft locks. “You want to go out and do something?” You shook your head, he closed his eyes, you smirked at how easy your boyfriend was — you don’t even know why he chose to do this.

You began to place little kisses on his jaw, down to his neck. “Baby.” He warned, his breath shaky. “Baby, let’s calm down.” But of course you didn’t listen, jake felt his cock twitching in his jeans, he couldn’t go out like this, he had something to prove, but jesus you weren’t making it easy.

“Jakey i’m just getting myself off, you said I could use you if I needed.” You smirked, grinding down on his boner. “Y-yeah baby, but -fuck- just let me eat you then.” He groaned, but you didn’t answer, too busy trying to get yourself off.

He groaned as you rocked back and forth, your moans wrapping around his brain. “Jake!” You squealed. “Jakey i’m gonna cum.” He was fighting demons right now — trying his best not to lift you up and fuck you stupid on the couch. “Fuck i’m cumming!” You yelled, legs shaking as you came.

“Baby.” He whined, his cock was hard as a fucking rock — he was scared to even think a dirty thought cause he wasn’t sure that we wasn’t going to cum untouched. “You cannot do that, i’m not gonna make it if you’re like this.” He said. You smiled, sitting up kissing his cheek. “Just cause you did this to yourself doesn’t mean I should suffer should I?” you got off the couch.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his cock still hard. “Gonna shower, i’m all sticky and sweaty.” He groaned, throwing his head back against the couch.

You were not gonna make this easy for him at all.

NOVEMBER — WEEK TWO !

“Please.” You begged, but jake wasn’t letting up. “It’s just a shower.” You pouted, he couldn’t say no to that — but he knew you weren’t gonna just shower with him in peace. “baby I know where you’re going with this.”

“Please, just a shower, I swear.” He look into your puppy like eyes, he sighed — how was he so desperately wrapped around your fingers. “Fine, just a shower.” You nodded, grabbing his hand guiding you to your shared bedroom.

You undressed yourself — jakes eyes traveled across your body, your perky boobs on display, your plump ass on display as you turned on the water. “Come on.” He waited for you to step in before he followed, standing behind you. “Jesus princess this water is hot as hell.”

You smiled, turning around facing him, reaching up wrapping your arms around his shoulders, the water running down your body, in between your boobs — you weren’t even doing anything but his cock was already hardening, twitching against your stomach. “Shit baby, I don’t think I can be in here long, your pretty body is too distracting.”

“Why wont you just quit them?” Your hand traced up and down his abs — light grazing his cock, but it was enough to have him hissing. “it’s just a stupid game system.” You said, he groaned — he knew you’d be like this, but he fell right into your trap anyway. “It’s not just the game, it’s to prove I have self control.”

“You don’t and that’s why I love you.” You kissed his chest, he sighed. “Im so horny jakey.” You whined, he closed his eyes trying to calm down. “You want me to finger you princess?” He hoped that would calm you down, but you just whined, shaking your head. “Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, I need your cock.”

You grabbed the base of his cock. “B-baby.” He stuttered. “I need you inside me.” You prayed he’d let up and fuck you — you almost had him. “Please.”

Fuck he couldn’t, he had something to prove. “Baby im sorry.” He said, you pouted. “Just a little longer I swear.” You released his cock and he let out a groan. “You’re so mean.” You pouted, he smiled. “Don’t smile at me.” You said, folding your arms.

“You almost had me baby.” He kissed your forehead. “Now im gonna get out and let you finish your shower.” He said, stepping out wrapping his towel around his waist. “What about me, im still horny.”

“you said it yourself princess, my fingers aren’t enough anymore.” He teased, leaving the bathroom. You cursed, he won this time.

But you weren’t gonna let him win that easily…

NOVEMBER — FINAL WEEK !

“Fuck.” He groaned, looking at the numerous of photos and videos you decided to grace him with — he had to stay at his dorm this week, but that didn’t stop you from torturing him via messages. His cock was desperately trying to free itself from his jeans as he looked at a video that you sent of you rutting against his pillow.

“Fuck shes trying to kill me.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The hell is wrong with you?” Jay said. “You’ve been groaning for the past hour, someone might think we’re in here doing something.” Jake couldn’t even laugh he was that turned on.

“It’s yn, she has not been easy on me these past couple weeks.” He said, jay laughed watching his friend stress out. “Yeah, haha make fun of me, how the hell are you not going through what i’m going through?” He and jay were the last ones standing with heeseung out the second week — claiming he’d just buy the game himself, and sunghoon who found himself giving up the night of jakes birthday party, with one of your friends.

“Because i’m not a sex crazed person and I can control myself.” Jay said, jake groaned once again. “I didn’t expect her to be like this.” He said looking at the the newest photo of you, your fingers stuffed in your soaking cunt. “Are you seriously looking at nudes of your girlfriend right now while i’m talking to you?” Jay said, face full of disgust, standing up. “Jesus at least wait until I leave the room.” He said.

“i’m not giving up that easy!” He yelled, grabbing a towel, cold showers were like his best friend as of lately.

He couldn’t wait until this dumb challenge was over.

NOVEMBER 30, 2023 11:57 !

‘Fuck you, you just had to go and win.’ ‘you actually beat me, you fucking asshole.’ ‘what games do you want?’

He smiled victoriously at the text messages from his friends. He checked the time, and he was just on time — he got up, going into your shared bedroom, you were so unaware, watching the tv not paying attention to the time, like he had for the entire day.

“I won.” He said, finally gaining your attention. “Huh?” You turned to him confused. “What are you talking about?” You were laughing, but the way you had teased jake almost every day this month, you soon weren’t about to be. “I won the game, jay lasted until a few minutes ago.”

You checked the time, your heart sank — it was now midnight, December 1 — you were starting to regret doin everything you did during the month. “Jake.”

Before you could say anything else his lips were crashing into yours. He messily kissed you, trying to get his shirt over his head. Once he did that, he pulled away his lips swollen and red, both of you breathless. “I was gonna be nice princess, but you haven’t been nice to me at all this months.” He rid himself of pants, climbing on the bed. “Jake I was needy and you were ignoring me.” You pouted, trying to find a way out of it.

“Yeah, so that means act like a slut?” He slapped your thigh, pushing them open. “So desperate to get off you even humped my pillow like a bitch in heat.” You moaned out, you missed this. “Couldn’t get wait, just had to cum.” He cupped your heat. “Your pussy is soaking through your panties.”

He practically ripped your panties off. “Even through all the teasing I was gonna treat my baby like this princess she use to be, but then earlier you decided to hump my thigh like a needy whore.” He manhandled you on to your stomach, lifting your hips up, putting a pillow down for comfort. “so now i’m gonna fuck you like a needy whore.”

This is all you wanted — for the entire month this is all you wanted, was for him to fuck you stupid. “Pl-please jakey.” You moaned, he slapped your ass. “Shut the fuck up.” He pumped his cock, groaning as he pressed his tip at your entrance. “Shut up and take my fucking cock.”

He slammed into you without easing in, you let out a scream of pleasure as his cock stretched out your cunt. “Fuck your pussy is so tight.” He had to calm himself down, he was so pent up he felt like he was gonna cum if he moved. “Missed it so much.”

You wiggled your hips impatiently. “J-jake please.” You whined, he slapped your ass. “Fuck.” He pulled out, slamming back in. “So fucking impatient.” He moved his hips. “Couldn’t even wait a second.” He grunted, gripping your hips as he roughly fucked into you. “Jake.”

He let out all his pent up frustrations on your poor cunt, pushing your back down into a a deeper arch — his cock hitting a new spot, you were gripping the pillows as he plowed into you. “That’s it, take my cock slut.” He grunted.

You felt yourself about to cum, your cunt tightening around his cock. “No baby, you don’t get to cum right now, fucking hold it.” He growled, you whined. “J-jake please.” You begged, tears welding in your eyes. “I said fucking hold it slut.”

He kept going, you could no longer hold it. “Jake!” You screamed, tear streaming down your eyes. “Cum, go a ahead and cum slut.” He slapped your ass once more, you screamed cumming around his cock. “That’s it cream my cock -fuck- i’m about about to cum inside your pussy.” He grunted, thrusting a few times. “Fuck!” He came with a moan, filling your cunt up with his cum.

He gave you a few second to compose yourself, before handling you back on your back. “I’m not done baby.” He grabbed the base of his cock, positioning it at your hole that was leaking with his cum, pushing himself back into your hole. “Jake, fuck!” You screamed.

“Gonna fuck you as many times as you teased me, gonna leave your pussy sore.”

©️LUVYENI

[verstappen-cult]

MAKEUP SHOPPING WITH THE BOYS | F1 GRID

INTRODUCING THE BOYS. lando norris. charles leclerc. oscar piastri. max verstappen. alex albon. daniel ricciardo. mick schumacher. logan sargeant.

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando doesn’t really like to go shopping, but for you lando would do anything. and that’s exactly why he doesn’t argue when you take him by the hand and lead him inside a makeup store. he follows you around the store after you give him a little basket where you will put all the items you’ll need, and doesn’t say a word. but once you’re checking out, lando doesn’t let you pay. he gives his card and makes sure you have everything because he really doesn’t mind paying. at home, you shyly ask him if he would like to know what are all the things you bought for, and lando is more than happy to sit by the foot of the bed and watch you do an unboxing, explaining what are all the things you bought. lando is a simple man and if you’re happy, he’s happy.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

charles is always the one asking you if you need anything when you go out shopping together, it’s usually when he sees a makeup store because he knows how important it is to you. and also because he likes to watch you do your makeup and skincare routine when you’re not looking, so, he pays extra attention. charles insists and insists and doesn’t let it go until you admit you would like to buy that pretty blush you bought on your last trip that is running out or that you actually do need your moisturizer because you used all of it that morning. charles does that ‘i told you so’ face when you lead him inside the store, but willingly follows you, asking just the right questions. he also knows a little bit about skincare thanks to you, so he ends up buying a few things for himself too.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar, well, he follows you everywhere. if you ask him to take you dumpster-hunting at three o’clock in the morning, he wouldn’t hesitate, he wouldn’t even question you. that is why he doesn’t bat an eye when you ask him to go shopping with you. oscar knows it’s gonna be a long day, but he’s a patient man. a patient man who loves you very much. he even asks if he can pay for the things you have chosen but you decline his offer, thanking him with a chaste kiss on the lips, and he doesn’t argue with you but makes sure to remember the brand of the things you bought and what they are for, so he can buy them for you.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max would give you the world if he could. max is also always telling you to ask him when you need or want something, so he can buy it for you, but you never do. even if he tries to remind you that money is and never will be a problem; and sometimes it’s a little too much and you two end up arguing (it lasts for just a couple of minutes, really, before you are apologizing to each other and making out). so max can’t help but feel surprised and excited the first time you actually ask him for something. it’s just mascara and some foaming cream because you forgot your wallet at home, but max takes it as a win anyway. while you’re in the store, max sees a couple of the things you usually carry with you, like lipgloss and that thing that makes your eyelashes all curly and pretty, so he hides all that and a few things more and buys them without you noticing. when max gives you the bag at home you’re too stunned to speak or feel angry at him for spending all that much money, but he looks so proud of himself and has that spark in his eyes that makes you jump into his arms.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

you and alex have a monthly date to go shopping, together. it’s kinda silly, really, and it’s consists on buying random things like a video game alex saw one day or a couple of face masks for your movie night on friday night. so it’s not at all surprising for alex when he finds you in the makeup corner looking at some things he really doesn’t understand. you don’t notice him, too focused reading something, so he just sits on a chair nearby and looks at you moving around and taking things while leaving others. alex doesn’t know how long it takes for you to notice him but when you do, he just shrugs and tells you to keep going while taking out his phone to pass the time doing something.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

dani’s favorite hobby is spoiling you. he likes it a lot and enjoys it even more than anything on the week leading to your birthday. you two do everything you wanna do, he feels pretty lucky to be able to give you everything. if he needs to sit down and watch you walk out of the changing room with a dozen of different clothes, he will do it with a smile on his face. and daniel knows that one of your favorite activities is to go shopping for makeup and skincare products, he’s been a subject to your skincare routine more than one time, so he expects it every year. you two go hand in hand shopping for makeup, he gives you his opinion when you’re between two different lipsticks, even if he thinks they look the same and will both definitely look good on you.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

mick likes you. and so he likes everything that involves you. he’s always asking you about your favorite movies and what makes them your favorites. mick knows everything there is to know about taylor swift not because he likes her (i mean he does like her. after you introduced her to him) but because you’re crazy about the girl. mick knows your favorite makeup brand because he always watches you and it’s not afraid to ask what are the brushes for and why do you like that primer instead of the other one you have. you find it cute, how he looks at you with his big puppy eyes all interested in anything you have to say. when he goes shopping for makeup with you, you don’t even have to ask him to bring you the highlighter that is on the top shelf because he’s already giving you the exact brand you use and like so much, along with your favorite mascara and a pretty-shy smile.

★ — LOGAN SARGEANT (2)

logan doesn’t know a thing, like really nothing, about makeup or skincare. he just knows you have a bunch of that stuff and always look pretty, with or without makeup; logan really doesn’t mind as long as you feel comfortable with yourself. but he also doesn’t hesitate to go in the store with you when you suddenly remember you ran out of a few things. he lets you go to do your thing while he wanders around, reading the label of some things and not understanding a single thing. why are there so many different steps for a simple skincare routine? and so many different shades of blush. when you have everything you need, you go looking for logan only to find him in a deep conversation with a saleslady who’s explaining all about skincare to him.

requested by @golden-flora. . . I saw that you were taking blurb requests- thoughts on makeup shopping with the boys?

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[gurugirl]

ex-boyfriend's dad!harry part 2

Summary: Harry wants to show you what you've been missing if you'll let him. OR The filthy smutty one.

A/N: This full series is already live on Patreon, with all 4 parts up! Part 3 will be posted here in one week. THIS PART HAS NEARLY 9K WORDS OF SMUT ALONE. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

Word Count: 10.8k

Series Warnings: explicit content, smut (including anal, rough blow jobs), age gap, angst, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, choking, slight degradation, use of small implements (collar and leash, anal plug)

Part 2 Warnings: smut, rough blow job training, age gap, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, use of anal plug, use of collar and leash, choking, slight degradation, spitting, size kink (as always), anal play

ex-boyfriend's dad!harry masterlist

. . .

It felt like one of your fantasies, to have Harry’s eyes on you in your bedroom, where you knew he was about to do some very unwholesome things to you. He said he was going to show you what it felt like to be eaten out by a man who enjoys it and that was... Well, that was the hottest thing you’d ever heard when it was coming from his mouth.

You sat on your bed and watched as Harry rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as if he was about to do some manual labor, “You look cute tonight, Y/n. Did you have me in mind when you picked out those shorts?”

You looked down at your lap and smiled before looking at him, “Yes.”

“Did you eat before I came over?”

Now this question caught you off guard. You shook your head, “Uh… no. I ate earlier. Like one o’clock I think?”

He tutted at you as he removed his belt, pulling the leather from the belt loops on his pants, “We’ll eat something after we’re done here. Okay?”

You nodded. In truth, you liked that he planned something after you were done. It meant that he’d be sticking around a bit longer. Maybe he’d stay all night. You didn’t want to push your luck.

This was a side of Harry you hadn’t really gotten to see before. Somehow his demeanor was filling in tiny cracks you didn’t know needed filled. It felt like things were sealing and fusing together inside of you as you watched him move about and talk to you the way he was. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your bedroom seemed so small with him standing in it, his eyes on you while you sat in wait on your bed. Waiting for him to tell you what to do next. Waiting to see what he was going to do and how he’d do it.

He took one long-legged step toward your bed and dropped the heavy black belt onto your light blue comforter before he sat next to you.

You kept your eyes on his movements as if your life depended on it. You watched his hand draw up to your chin and felt his fingers squeeze into your skin before he pulled your face in toward his and ran his smooth lips up your jaw, “I’m gonna make you feel so good Y/n.”

You closed your eyes and every part of you was open to him. Pliable and willing. Whatever he wanted. However he wanted it. You wanted it if he was going to be the one doing it.

He pressed his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks with his large palm pressing to the underside of your chin, his thumb on one side and pointer finger on the other of your face when he pressed his lips to yours. The juxtaposition of his soft lips and his harsh grip had you spinning. He was directing the entire thing and angling your face toward his the way he wanted. You sat your palm on his upper thigh to balance yourself and that’s when he pushed his tongue into your mouth. Wet and hot. You opened up for him and felt his tongue lap against yours.

The pitiful moan that fell from your chest had him smiling against your lips, “You like to be handled a little rough, Y/n?”

You nodded against his mouth before he parted from the kiss, “I can tell.” He released his grip from your face and ran his fingers along your temple, “If you want to see me again after this then we’ll get into a little more of what I think you’ll like and things I like. We’ll go over the rules. But there’s no pressure today. Okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled at him. But… See him again? Get into things he likes? That had your heart lobbing in your chest with satisfaction.

“I might hold you tight with my hands to keep you still, maybe do a few little things just to see how you like it, but nothing too rough or uncomfortable. If you don’t like something just tell me. Today we’re just gonna have some fun and get ourselves sorted out.”

You watched him shift and your hand fell away from his thigh as he gripped your sides and pushed you up to your pillows before rubbing his hands down your thighs and over your shins before pushing your legs apart, “Keep your legs open for me. I don’t want you closing them, even if you feel like you want to or it’s your natural urge. There will be consequences,” he smirked at you before continuing, “Nothing severe, though. We’re just playing right, Y/n?” He pushed his hands up the insides of your thighs as his green eyes seared into you.

You grinned and bobbed your head up and down in agreement as you looked from his eyes to where his hands were inching closer to your crotch, his fingers sneaking under the hem of your shorts (which were quite short).

He lifted your left leg first, keeping his eyes on yours as he smushed his plush lips against the inside of your thigh, “Ever since you told me that you weren’t getting the favor returned to you I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About doing this to you. To show you what you’ve been missing. Feels like I need to make up for what Tyler wouldn’t do. So you know that kind of behavior doesn’t run in the family.”

His lips trailed over your soft flesh and up to the hem of your shorts, using his thumb to push the material up so he could get his mouth as close to your core as possible without actually being close enough to your very center.

He switched to your other thigh, placing your left leg down on the bed and lifting the right one the same way he did with the other, “Knew you’d be so good for me. Didn’t want to admit it then but I certainly imagined it. Do you know what I did that night after we got out of the pool?”

You shook your head, “No. What?”

He grinned, moving his mouth further up again and to the hem of your shorts, “It’s shameful and dirty but I couldn’t help it, Y/n. Before I tell you what I did,” he pushed your shorts up and applied a wet open mouth kiss to your skin, “I have to be honest. I saw your pretty little pussy that night.”

You blinked your eyes as you listened to him. You didn’t mean to let your mouth drop open the way it did because you kind of suspected he had. But to hear him say it…

“When I pushed you out of the water you opened your legs, and I saw you. That image has been burned into my memory. Can’t stop seeing it, Y/n.”

You inhaled sharply as he dropped your right leg and began to put his hands into the band of your shorts, “Taking these off. Okay?”

You nodded, your eyes darting down to where he began to pull your stretchy shorts down your legs until you were only left in your panties (picked out just for the occasion) and t-shirt.

You watched Harry’s eyes rove over your thighs and hips, his hands smoothing over you and down the side of your thighs before he dragged his knuckles down the center of your panties to your mound.

“That night, in my room I imagined you on your hands and knees for me, this pussy here,” he pressed over your labia and smoothed his thumb against the fabric of your panties, “just on display for me, peeking out from the back of your thighs.”

He licked his lips as he continued rubbing over your panties until he found the spot your clit was in and looked up at you, “I was so hard for you. And I felt awful, I really did, but I couldn’t stop seeing it, Y/n. I tried not to touch myself. Tried not to think about your breasts and your hips and this pretty bottom,” he kneaded at your upper thighs where the plush flesh met the curve of your butt. “But I couldn’t stop the sight of you from filling my head.”

You kept bouncing your sight from his fingers to his face as he continued.

“Mind if I pull this to the side? So I can see it again?”

“Yeah. It’s okay,” you nodded and held your breath as he hooked his finger into the crotch of your panties and pulled them aside. He cooed when your pussylips came into view and immediately pressed his thumb over your labia with the softest touch, smearing your arousal gently upward to your clit.

“When I couldn’t stop the picture of you naked and wet in the pool I began to ache. I tried willing my erection away but it didn’t work. I was in bed trying to think of anything else. I attempted to close my eyes and go to sleep but that only made it worse.”

“Then I started to leak. I wasn’t wearing anything. Went to bed naked because it hurt too much to put anything over my cock. But when I felt the moisture at my tip I knew I was fucked. My body was too turned on and I was dripping precome. I had to spread it down my shaft and stroked myself a little bit for relief but it felt too good.”

He sighed and you felt his fingers push your lips apart as he focused in on your pussy and then circled over your clit, making you moan.

“So I fucked my fist and imagined you were there, pressing your wet cunt up and down my cock and getting the relief I knew you were in need of. And even now, I can tell you need relief. So wet and puffy. Your skin is so hot.”

You swallowed and nodded shallowly as you watched him circle two fingers at your entrance and gently push in just the tips, “Want my fingers inside of you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, watching closely as he plunged his long finger into his last knuckle and you felt that yummy tightness of being filled up. He softly stroked along your walls, pushing in and pulling his fingers back as he looked from your eyes to your wet pussy and the mess you were making on his fingers.

“I need to tell you something else. Something Tyler told me because I think it’s only fair you know what he said. And I want to make sure it’s true. Okay?”

You nodded as he continued the languid pressing of his fingers inside of you.

“Said you liked being choked. Is that right?”

You blinked and nodded, “Well… yeah. I mean, I haven’t ever been so I don’t know but I wanted to see if I liked it. I think I will.”

He nodded, “And you want to be spit on? In your mouth?”

You let out a shaky breath and nodded, “On my tongue. And here,” you moved your hand down to where Harry was pumping his fingers inside of you.

“Oh yeah? Like this?”

You watched as he pulled his fingers from your opening and gathered saliva on his tongue before gripping your thighs and tilting your hips up. He spat over you, the warm spray of his spit landing on your labia and the space over your entrance had you moaning and lifting so you could see it better as he smeared the liquid under his digits and then pushed it inside of you, continuing to fuck you with his fingers.

“Yes. Just like that…” You looked at his face in awe as he leaned across and grabbed the back of your neck with his free hand.

“Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out.”

He tilted your neck back and your lips drew open wide, your tongue slipping past your mouth before you felt the drizzle of his saliva coating your tongue and then he pressed his mouth over yours softly before sitting back and letting go of your neck, his fingers still fucking into you slowly.

You were already panting, frazzled, burning hot, desperate. He could see it. The change in you. The sudden shift in the way you were breathing, your eyes, your lips… everything told him you wanted more.

“Did you like that?” You could hear the wet sound of your pussy being fingered by the man who just spit in your mouth. The first man to ever do so. Your brain was turning to mush but you managed to nod your head in response.

“And you want to try anal sex too? True?”

You swallowed thickly. You wanted to be honest with him so you were, “I’ve used toys on myself so I know I like it. Just never had anyone do it to me.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at you and he licked his lips, “What kind of toys, Y/n?”

You moaned when he stroked against something that made your insides tingle, “Dildo. I also have a plug I like to wear when I… play with myself.”

“When you masturbate?”

You nodded and then he applied his thumb over your clit and you dropped your mouth wide.

“Do you use a vibrator? Dildo?”

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to keep yourself calm but his fingers were magic, “Both. I like… oh god…” you closed your eyes and breathed at the sensation he was giving you, “I use the plug and then masturbate with a dildo, push it in and I can feel the plug pressing it… ooohh mmm…” you moaned and rolled your hips up.

“That’s good, Y/n. So good for me, honey,” you could hear the change in his voice. He sounded quite ruttish himself. “I like all those things too. If you want them, I’ll give them to you. Okay? That is if you want more after today.”

You nodded and continued to gasp in between pants as he hastened his fingers, his knuckles thwacking into you harder.

Suddenly he’d pulled his fingers out of you and you felt his hands at the top of the waistband of your panties, “These are very pretty but I need them gone because I’m gonna eat your pussy now. Sound good, Y/n?”

He kept his eyes on yours as you nodded and peeped out a yes.

The silk and lacy fabric was tossed into your room faster than you could wrap your brain around when he was crawling himself down until his mouth was inches from your cunt.

You watched him carefully as he focused his gaze on yours, “This what you want, Y/n? Want your ex’s daddy? Yeah?”

The guttural moan that fell from your lips when he said it filled your bedroom, “Yes. I want it.”

Now you knew he’d said daddy to get some kind of reaction from you. You certainly always thought of him as such regardless, but with him on your bed in your bedroom with your pussy wet and on display for him it all felt so intense. So raw.

“I know you do. Who’s gonna keep you satisfied in bed, sweet girl? Tell me who you want doing this to you,” he smeared his fingers up and down your labia, pushing your slick around and painting your pussylips and clit with arousal.

“You. I want you to do it.”

His pink tongue poked out from his lips to wet his mouth, “That’s right. You want Daddy to take care of you. Yeah?” His brows raised at you.

You whimpered and tossed your neck back when he pressed his tongue over your clit and then removed it in a cruel tease, “Yes!”

“Who’s gonna take good care of you, honey? Tell me. I wanna hear you say it.”

You popped your eyes open and looked at him, hovering over your cunt with an evil grin set on his face. You knew what he wanted to hear.

“You’re gonna take care of me… Daddy. You.”

He moaned and immediately ducked down to kiss your clit into his mouth and then licked upward from your entrance, “Good girl,” he spoke as he split your labia with his tongue and found your clit, wrapping his lips around you and began to eat you alive. It felt like that. A man, starved, devouring your soft flesh and wet bits.

You could only let out breathy pants and whiny moans as he worked your pussy like no one ever had. Tongue and lips and hot breath over your core… wide open mouth sucking you in… You let out a garbled moan when he pushed two fingers back inside of you. Your arms and legs were jelly and each time he looked at you it reminded you that this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t just one of your fantasies. You were getting eaten out by your ex-boyfriend’s dad.

The sound of slippery fingers pressing wetly into your body was lined with slurps and sucks as he used his free hand to hold your right thigh in place.

“Oh my god!” You yelped and pushed yourself up by your elbows to watch as he flicked his tongue back and forth over your clit before he flattened it and carved a naughty route around your wet button. He alternated between the slow slide of his tongue around your collection of nerves and pressing over it in meaningful flicks as his fingers pumped into you and glided over your front wall, dipping into your g-spot.

The combination of his fingers and his mouth was exactly what you needed. What you’d been craving.

You laid back into the bed when it was too much to keep yourself up to watch and you heard him puff out a laughed breath against you, “Feel good? This what you wanted?”

A whimper was pushed from your lungs as you gasped, “Fuck. Yes!”

It was like your body was slowly sizzling and cooking, rendering out juices and softening, gradually becoming fork tender. You were sure that once he was done snacking on your pussy you’d be nothing but a slippery puddle on your bed.

You felt as if your body was not your own as Harry worked you with his mouth and fingers. You gave in to him completely as you slid your shaky hands down to his head and felt his hair between your fingers.

And it wasn’t just good. It didn’t just feel satisfying. It felt like something beyond what you could describe. It had your insides churning and liquifying as your brain turned to a mushy mess of need and ache.

“Oh!” You cried out as that familiar tingle spread over your core and through your tummy. The sound of your moans set Harry off as he began to press his tongue harder onto your clit, slipping his tongue back and forth and curling his fingers against your front wall.

You could feel the wetness spread to your ass which just made you feel hotter… you knew it was a mix of his spit and your own arousal dripping down to your anus and then to your comforter.

But then Harry removed his mouth and you peeked down at him as he placed the pads of his fingers over your clit and circled as he spat on you again, but this time lower, under the spot his fingers were stuffed and you felt it on your ass as you began to tremble from his fingers inside of you and the ones on your clit.

He moved his fingers from your clit and looked up at you quickly as lowered his hand to your anus and poked at your empty hole with his middle finger, “I can tell you’re about to come, Y/n. You ready for this, baby?”

You whined and nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

He grinned at you calling him Daddy and then slowly pressed his finger into your ass, his other hand still stroking his fingers inside of your pussy, lifting the slightest so he could get a good look at how he was stuffing you with his digits.

The moment he’d gotten his middle finger tucked deep into your bum you let out a strange gasp and then he brought his mouth back to your clit.

It was the perfect trifecta that had you quivering and wetly mumbling nonsense into your room. Not something you’d ever even imagined, even in your wildest dreams. To have a man fingering your ass with one hand, fucking his fingers into your pussy with his other, and slurping on your clit with his mouth.

You convulsed and your thighs shook violently as you tugged at his hair tightly. You weren’t you in that very moment. You were just some being who was at the mercy of another as he orchestrated your orgasm like he already knew how you were going to respond. Like he knew better than you did.

Having anything tucked into your ass while you were masturbating was always a guarantee for an intense orgasm. But having Harry’s finger pressing into you and his slippery mouth working over your clit like it was just did something else. Something primitive and innate.

He was going into your pussy so hard your butt was lifted off the bed and you were flopping and squirming as your release hit you like a hammer. You felt it in your jaw and your heart, your ribs were expanding and contracting as you sucked in as much air as you could before crying out loudly.

You had no control of any of your limbs or the way your pussy clenched and spasmed over his fingers. You weren’t sure what you were saying or if real words were even coming out of your mouth. Your mind was blurry and you were beholden to the way Harry was manipulating you with his fingers and his tongue.

Moments went by where you were sure you were unconscious. You’d lost yourself for a moment in blurry bliss but then you heard his deep voice cooing at you. His words weren’t registering but his voice brought you back slowly.

You threw your arm over your eyes as you panted for oxygen, chest rising and falling violently. You had no power over the way your legs were still trembling, but then you felt Harry’s big hands gently rubbing up and down your thighs.

“There we go… just relax, baby,” he spoke softly, trying to settle you and bring you back with small squeezes, fingers indenting into your skin and thumbs gliding along your muscles.

You felt him wrap a hand around your wrist and lift your arm from your face, “Let me see you. Look at me, Y/n.”

You slowly blinked your eyes opened to see him leaning over you. His hair was a mess from how you’d yanked at his roots and he was flushed with dark pupils as he grinned at you, “So pretty. Feel better now?”

You nodded and sighed as he adjusted his position and fell to the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“We’ll just lie here for a minute. Talk a bit. Okay? Want you to come down a little. Get your bearings.” His delicate touch on your temple, the pad of his thumb rubbing at your skin had you swooning. This man was too good.

“Okay,” you drew your hand up to his shoulder and smiled.

“I’ll make you something to eat after we’re done here if you don’t mind me rummaging through your kitchen. Is that okay?”

“You don’t have to do that, Harry. I can make something–“

“So does that mean you don’t want me going through your fridge?”

“No. I don’t care if you go through my fridge,” you laughed, “I just meant I can do it.”

Harry grinned at you, “Yeah but you didn’t do it before I came over and we need to make sure you eat. So it’s settled. I’ll make you something. But first,” he ran his fingers down the skin on your cheek to the edge of your mouth, “I wanted to try one more thing. Something you told me you liked when we were in the pool that night.”

You kept your eyes on his and when his lips pulled up into a devilish grin you understood what he meant before he even said it, making your own lips tug upward.

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

You nodded, still grinning back at him.

His thumb trailed over your bottom lip before pressing down on it, making you open up for him as he smushed his digit into your mouth and over your tongue where you closed your lips and sucked.

He watched you suckle at his digit and pull at it with your lips, “It’s something else I can’t stop dreaming of. Imagining you on your knees with my cock down your throat. And I have no qualms about making you gag either, honey. Make you drool and choke on it. I’ll take it easy on you tonight, though.”

You kept sucking on his thumb as you hummed and nodded, your eyes bobbing from his lips to his pretty eyes as he spoke.

He slowly slid his thumb from your lips and watched your saliva follow his digit as he pulled it away. He pushed himself to sit up and pulled you with him. His hands clutched the bottom hem of your t-shirt, “We’re gonna get you naked. Might get a little messy. Okay?”

“Okay.” You felt like your voice was small and far away as he dragged the fabric up your torso and off your head. The moment your shirt was gone his finger brushed up your skin to your bra, which matched the panties that were lying somewhere on your floor.

You watched his face as he reached around and unhooked your bra clasp, “This is pretty, Y/n. You were so sweet to think of me when you dressed before I came over,” he spoke lowly as your bra fell off your shoulders and was pushed to the side before he cupped your nude tits in his hands, “But I like this a lot better.”

He ducked down and wrapped his lips over your nipple as he kneaded and squeezed the other. You gasped at the harsh tug he gave you and you ran your fingers into his hair and arched your back into him. He continued licking and sucking until he’d gotten both sides. Pulling at your nipples and then licking the spot, the cool air drawing chills over your skin.

The attention he gave your body was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. You were floating and your heart was pounding and your body was on fire.

When he pulled away you watched him get off your bed. He kept his eyes on you and your body as he unbuttoned his shirt. Every button revealing more of his masculine build, dark tattoos, him.

And you’d seen all of him before. Not his dick, not directly, but you knew it was nice. The glimpses you caught as he was naked in the pool with you told you all you needed to know.

He shrugged his shirt off onto the floor and then you noted the bulky lump under his pants. He sighed as he unbuttoned his pants and then began to pull them down his hips and his thighs. You wouldn’t take your eyes off the spectacle. You already knew his body was insane. But knowing that you were in the midst of a sexual encounter with him and that body felt surreal.

His boxer briefs hugged tightly to his erect cock and you kept your eyes on it as he pushed those down his strong thighs. When he stood upright after getting his briefs off you slid from the bed and got to your knees, as if by some invisible force. You didn’t even make the conscious decision to kneel in front of him and sit back on your calves with your eyes dragging over the healthy cock attached to the man standing in front of you.

Healthy. Sure. You could see that much. All of him was strong and healthy. Virile. But it was big. Thick, long, pretty. You hated that a small section of your brain compared him with Tyler instantly. But you couldn’t help it. It was stunning and it was just yet another thing that Tyler lacked that his father made up for.

“Look at you. Didn’t even need to tell you what to do,” he ran a hand over the back of your head, petting you like you were a well-behaved puppy.

You looked up at him with rounded eyes and parted lips. You couldn’t wait to get him in your mouth.

Harry smiled proudly down at you as he gripped his shaft and slowly stroked himself in front of your face. He watched your eyes dart from his cock to his face as you waited for him to tell you what to do next.

“Who’s cock do you wanna suck, honey?” His deep voice penetrated your skin and you were simply vibrating from everything he did and said.

“Your cock, Daddy.” You kept your eyes connected to his as you answered him. Your mouth was already pooling with saliva at the anticipation of tasting him. Of feeling him in your mouth.

His knuckles ghosted down your cheekbone with his free hand as he continued pumping his cock with his other. His tip dangerously close to your lips.

You wiggled in your spot and swallowed as you blinked up at him and he watched you wait patiently for him to start. Because he was in charge. And you knew he was.

“Go on then. Take a little sip,” he smeared the bit of precome on his tip over your lips and you nearly fainted as you grasped around his hand over his cock and closed your eyes, parting your mouth. You stuck out your tongue, cupping the underside of his head before you wrapped your lips around his tip and it was heaven. To have your mouth and tongue on him. Knowing he was going to give you another experience you’d always longed for.

You suckled and curved your tongue under him, feeling his smooth skin in your mouth as you looked up at him before attempting to go deeper.

He was glorious standing above you with his eyes on your face as you sucked him. His abs and the dark tattoos, muscled pecs, broad shoulders… All you wanted to do was choke on him. Give him the best head he’d ever gotten, feel him pushing down your throat, and hear him groaning.

He moved his hand away from his cock as you began to use your palm as an extension of your mouth, warming yourself up to take him deeper.

“You gonna slide down further, honey? Want to know what it feels like?” He softly placed his hand at the back of your head as you bobbed over him, your saliva coating him as you spread it with your hand over his shaft.

Bringing your lips back to his tip you swirled your tongue around his frenulum and pulled back, continuing to pump him with your hand in long strokes, “I want to make you feel good. I’ve never done it like this before. I’m worried about my teeth hurting you…”

He grinned down at you and rubbed your head, “That’s a good sign that you don’t want to hurt me,” he chuckled. “We’ll take it slow. Get some practice. See how deep you can handle it, okay?”

You nodded and puckered your lips to kiss his cockhead and then pressed devoted kisses down his shaft and back up to his crown before wrapping your lips back around him and cradling the bottom of his cock with your tongue as you slid down further and back to his tip.

His gravelly sigh egged you on. It sounded like he was enjoying what you were doing and that was exactly what you wanted.

You forced your eyes to look up at him so you would watch his face and his brows were already stitched together as he watched you on his cock.

“Bring your hand down to my balls, sweetheart. Squeeze gently and then I want to feel you push your throat down further on me. Okay? Let’s see how deep you can manage.”

You moaned as you moved your hand from his shaft to his scrotum and palmed at them before pressing your hands around them with care. He moaned as his eyes stayed on you.

Sucking in a deep breath through your nose you forced your mouth down further, the thick girth filling your mouth then his tip curving against the roof of your mouth and slipping against your tonsils.

You coughed around him and felt the urge to gag as you pulled back and then repeated, trying to get lower and keep him in your throat longer.

It took a few tries. You’d get as low as possible and feel the sting of your sinuses awakening tears in your eyes as you gurgled over him and pulled back for air.

On your fourth try, lips smearing down his shaft and drool wetting your chin you heard him moan loudly, “Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good. Gonna get you used to this so I can fuck your mouth like you wanted. I think you can do better, though. Need help?”

You felt his hand grip the back of your head as he asked if you needed help and you moaned over his cock and pulled back, still kneading his balls softly in your palm.  Sucking in a deep breath of air you nodded, tears on your face already, being the amateur that you were at deep throating, “Yeah. Push me down. My natural urge is to keep backing up once I gag but I want more of you in my throat.”

Harry’s plush pink lips raised in a grin, “Okay, baby. We'll practice this. I’m gonna push you down slowly okay? Want you to close your eyes and open wide, keep your tongue out, and take in a big breath before I do it. Yeah? Then pinch my thigh if you need me to let go. But you’re gonna need to hold your breath for a little bit because I’m gonna hold you down as far as we can get you today. Ready?”

You took a deep breath and nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath at how you’d so easily fallen into calling him Daddy as he adjusted his hold on your head before helping you back onto his cock.

You opened your mouth and kept your tongue out like he told you and you felt his velvety skin slip over your tongue slowly until his tip was sliding against your tonsils and you felt that instinctive gag reflex begin to take over. But he pushed in past your tonsils and you squeezed your eyes shut as you felt him curve down your throat, inch by inch as you gulped around him automatically and gagged until you were without air. He moaned loudly as your throat constricted around his tip and he pressed your head down until your nose was against his pelvis and your lips were just grazing at the base of his shaft.

“Oh fuck… just like that baby… Daddy’s gonna teach you everything you need to know. So fucking good,” you felt him thrust shallowly, pushing his tip in and pulling back slightly as he began to gently fuck your face.

You held your breath and felt his wide cock sliding in and out of your throat as he groaned and massaged the back of your head lovingly. You wanted more. Wanted to give him whatever he wanted. Loved how he was praising you and enjoying your mouth, using it how he liked.

“Shit, Y/n… Look so pretty like this for me… Oh my god…” his voice was shaky as he grunted his words.

Suddenly he pulled back until his tip was at your lips and you coughed a gasp, inhaling air as you felt your saliva drip down your chin.

“Open up, honey, keep that mouth wide open…” Harry stood over you, his hand still at the back of your head as he began to stroke himself, his tip slipping over your tongue and his guttural moans had your heart pumping wildly as you peeked up at him through the tears in your eyes.

His face was twisted up as he panted with his arm flexing as he pumped himself against your tongue. You’d long forgotten about his balls as you gripped his sturdy thighs and blinked up at him with your tongue out.

“Oh shit… fuck…” he looked down at you and your tongue as he felt his balls squeeze against his body, “Gonna come, baby… where do you want it,” his words were rushed and breathy.

“In my mouth, Daddy. Want to taste it,” you spoke quickly before opening your mouth wide again stuck your tongue out to cradle his tip and he choked out a loud moan as he began to come on your tongue, a bit getting on your lips before you pushed in closer to keep his tip in your mouth as he fucked his cock with his big palm, his knees bent slightly to get the angle right.

His string of groans and pants had you giving him an open-mouthed grin as he drained himself into your mouth and on your tongue.

Harry’s chest heaved as he emptied every last drop and then he looked down at you again, pressing his tip against your tongue over the bit of come you still had in your mouth.

You closed your lips around his tip and sucked making him hiss. He cupped your jaw and looked down at you smugly before pulling his cock from your lips, “Swallow it all down, Y/n.”

You gulped him down and kept your eyes pinned to his.

“Let me see that tongue. Show Daddy you didn’t waste anything.”

You stuck your tongue out and angled your head back so he could see down your throat and he rubbed a thumb over your cheekbone, “Gonna be so fucking good baby. It’s only gonna feel better the more practice we get. Blew me away, Y/n,” he grinned as he helped you stand up and then pulled you into his arms, his mouth finding yours.

You could feel his chest rising and falling as he was still recovering from his orgasm. Your cheeks burned hot at all the praise and confidence he gave you.

He parted from the kiss and ran his hands up your arms, “Let’s go get cleaned up and then make something to eat.”

That was something else you’d never experienced. Having a man help you clean up and touching you after a sexual encounter. You were used to Tyler rolling over and letting you clean yourself up. Good luck ever getting him to hold you after. It was like he got his and that was all he needed.

But Harry spoke to you about what you might want to eat as he wetted a clean washcloth you pulled out from your cabinet and held you against your bathroom counter as he dabbed your thighs and sensitive skin on your pussy and then last to your backside as if it were second nature. As if he’d done it to you a million times before.

And you thought you were going to settle down and get your hormones in check after giving him that blow job (which had turned you on so much your vision was blurry). You figured the cleanup process would be the furthest thing from sexy but you’d been wrong.

Maybe it was how attentive he was with you, or the way he held you in place as he spoke so nonchalantly about what you had in your refrigerator as you both stood naked in your small bathroom. Maybe it was his gaze over your body as he made sure you were taken care of and cleaned up properly.

Whatever it was, it only made your heart wallop in your chest and your pussy stay wet despite his attempts at getting you wiped.

And he knew it too. You could see the smug smile as he kept wiping at you but part of you thought he was doing it on purpose in a way. Bumping the rag against your clit might not have been an accident. Perhaps it was to keep you wanting more of him.

He handed you your shorts and t-shirt to slip on as he pulled his boxer briefs up his legs.

Harry got to work in your kitchen. It was just a simple thing for you to eat. Eggs and toast with butter which all came together rather quickly. He made some for himself as well.

It was quite something watching a man cook in your kitchen. Especially when it was Harry. His back was clear of tattoos, but you could see them on his ribs and arms as he pushed the spatula under the eggs to flip them. His lats flexing and butt filling out his briefs in a way Tyler could only wish for.

But when he turned around with two plates and brought them to your table (where you were already seated) his front was something made of dreams. His body had you in a choke hold, even at nearly twice your age the man was more attractive than maybe anyone you’d ever laid eyes on.

Even the front of his crotch where his natural bulge sat was pretty. The way the elastic band of his underwear hugged his hips, his belly button…

“One would think you hadn’t just had an orgasm, Y/n.” He grinned. You’d been caught staring at his body. You couldn’t help it.

You laughed, “You’re just really good-looking.”

Harry sat down after placing both plates on the table, taking a big bite of toast, and chewed before responding, “And you’re just really gorgeous,” his eyes trailed down your frame and to your thighs. Even clothed you felt as if he was looking at your naked body.

You swallowed down your bite of egg and laughed through your nose, putting your hand up to cover your mouth as you shook your head.

“Why are you shaking your head no?”

“I don’t know. Feels weird to just accept a compliment like that.”

“What do you mean? Did my son never tell you how breathtaking you are?”

You looked down at your plate and shook your head, “Well… no,” before looking back into his eyes, “Not really. He seemed to be annoyed by me most of the time.”

Harry hummed as he looked you over and then patted his lap, “Come here.”

You bit your lip and pushed yourself out of your chair to sit in his lap like he wanted. Harry adjusted his thighs to accommodate you comfortably and pulled your back against his chest placing a hand on the top of your thigh, “He never treated you like you deserved.” His thumb smoothed over the skin on the outside of your thigh, “I’m glad you broke up with him. Surprised you put up with it for so long.”

You smiled to yourself quietly and felt flustered. Harry was such a change from what you’d been used to. He was sweet and it seemed so genuine. But the way he took control in bed and gave you a taste of what you really wanted… Honestly, it felt like he liked you more than his son who you dated for almost two years.

Harry pushed your legs to drape off the side of his thighs so he could look at you as he picked up his fork to take a bite and chew. You smiled at him and took another bite. You were hungrier than you thought and Harry had made the perfect over-easy eggs just like you liked.

“You believe that right? That you deserved so much better.”

You blinked your eyes as you looked at him. His face was so close to yours and his lap was warm under your bottom, “I think I knew I deserved better. It’s just easier said than done. But it’s over now. So…” you shrugged.

Harry nodded as he chewed the last bite of his toast bringing his hand up to your face. You loved that he seemed to continue giving you soft touches as if he wanted to keep letting you know, even nonverbally, that you were special. And it did make you feel special. Made you feel giddy. You were sure he could feel your heart pounding.

“Well don’t ever let anyone take you for granted like that.” You could still feel his thumb dragging over your thigh.

You finished your bite as he moved his hand from your face and asked a question you’d wanted to ask since you stepped into the kitchen, “Will you stay over?”

You didn’t know what had possessed you to ask this man to stay the night. Why you felt like you had to ask. Why you felt like you didn’t want him to just leave. Perhaps you were emboldened by the closeness of him. The way he was touching you and looking at you. You guessed it was because he made you feel a little more confident.

Harry smiled as he looked down your mouth and back to your eyes, “You want me to stay?”

You widened your eyes and let your gaze fall away from his face to the wall behind him and shrugged, “If you wanted.” Now the shame and embarrassment of rejection began to rise up your spine. Of course, he’d say no. What more would he need from you?

You heard Harry sigh and then he took your chin in his hand and moved your head to look at him, “I would love to stay the night with you. I just need to warn you,” he cleared his throat as you watched him intently, “If I’m in your bed next to you all night I’m going to have trouble keeping my hands off of you. Kind of like right now,” he smiled. “Is that going to bother you?”

You began to grin wider, “No. It won’t bother me. That’s kind of what I wanted.”

“Yeah? You wanted my hands on you?”

You nodded, keeping the smile on your face.

Both of your plates were empty as Harry put his hands on your hips and pulled your side flush to his chest, “Want me to fuck you, Y/n? Is that what you want?” His words were spoken against your ear.

You nodded and turned to look at him.

“Okay. You just need to be taken care of, don’t you?” He placed a hand on your jaw, his thumb rubbing down the side of your neck, “Poor thing was mistreated for too long. I’m gonna make sure you get everything you need, Y/n.”

You kept nodding as your brows pulled together. You didn’t realize how much you needed it. How much you’d been missing out on but Harry could see it. He recognized how unappreciated you’d been.

“I think you see it now, don’t you?”

“Yes. I think I do.”

Harry’s plush lips pressed into the space on your neck just under your jaw and you dropped your mouth open, tilting your neck back for him. You felt his arm wrap around your front as he slowly worked his mouth down your neck and then to the front.

When a moan rattled from your throat Harry placed his palm on the back of your neck and smudged his lips over yours before you opened your mouth to him.

You lifted your arm to bring it over his shoulder and twisted in to face him. You felt Harry’s fingers slip under your cotton t-shirt, fingers gliding up your skin until he found your breasts and ran his palms over your nipples.

The longer he played with your breasts, ghosting his fingers and knuckles over them, the more desperate you grew as his tongue pressed into yours. Chills rose over your skin and you shifted again, trying to get closer but it was impossible.

Harry parted from the kiss, “Let’s get you in bed under the covers. You’ve got goosebumps all over.”

You puffed out a laugh. The raised skin was definitely not from being chilled and you knew he knew it when he squeezed your tit and smirked down at you. Regardless, you wanted to get back in bed with him because after sucking him off you were quite turned on. No. You were very turned on. In fact, when you sat down in Harry’s lap you could tell your shorts were getting a little damp on the inside, and now that you’d shifted over his thigh on his boxer briefs, as you slid off his lap, you could see the small wet patch you’d made.

Harry kept his hands on your shoulders as he walked behind you to your bedroom and then he pulled your blankets back for you to climb in. You watched him get in next to you and pull the blankets over both of you before he dragged you against his chest and wrapped his arms around you.

The slow movement of his lips against yours and the dab of his tongue over your tongue felt like all you needed. The intimacy in the kiss was almost therapeutic. You’d been starved of affection, of spontaneity and Harry was just dousing you in it.

When you felt his hand travel down your backside and push underneath your shorts he palmed over your bottom softly before dragging his fingers down a little more and that’s when he felt how wet you were.

He smiled against your mouth, “Love how wet you get for me. Such a treat,” he ran his fingers through your folds and then pushed at your shorts to get them off.

You hurriedly helped him push them down your legs and then pulled your t-shirt off as Harry dragged his boxer briefs down his legs and kicked them off somewhere in your bed.

When you rolled to your side to face him you lowered your hand to his cock, already half hard as he pulled you in by the back of your neck to bring your mouth against his once again.

You stroked his shaft as he pushed his fingers through your folds, both moaning between kisses.

Shifting your hips you lifted your thigh to lay it over his and urged yourself toward him to move your cunt along his shaft. Harry hissed when he felt you wetting his skin.

Suddenly he pushed you to your back and he fit himself between your open thighs, taking your wrists and pushing them down to the mattress over your head, “You gotta be careful when you slide your wet pussy over my cock like that. Next time you do that I’m just gonna split you right open and fuck into you without asking first. But I’m trying to be gentleman tonight, Y/n.”

You screwed up your face and moaned, “That’s all I want, Daddy…”

Harry groaned dragging his shaft over you and you tilted your hips up so he could just press in and put you out of your misery.

Harry chuckled and let go of your wrists as he sat back and took his cock in his palm, painting himself up and down your drippy cunt, “You on birth control?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

“Want Daddy’s cock inside of you?”

You moaned another yes and bucked your hips toward him.

The grin on his face was almost sinister as he took your hands and pulled them down to the insides of your knees pressing your thighs back against your chest, “Hold yourself open like this for me.”

You gripped the back of your knees and kept yourself angled and spread for him, your knees pressed to either side of your tits when you felt him dragging his cock through your crease slowly, his eyes moving from your face to your pussy.

“Need some relief, Y/n?” He teasingly pressed his ruddy tip to your entrance, pushing slightly before sliding his cock upward to bump into your clit.

“Please, Daddy!”

That sinister grin widened as he lined himself back up to your hole, “Look at me. Want you to pay close attention to who’s fucking you.”

The slow press of his fat head through your slippery muscle had you both dropping your mouths open.

“Ohhh…” you gasped as you felt him sliding through your insides and then pull back to his tip. He nudged his way in again slowly, finding himself deeper every time he pushed his way in. You were wrapped around his cock tightly as he continued rearing himself back and then pushing forward, letting your body get used to his girth inch by inch.

The moment you felt him tucked in deep, pressing into your cervix you wiggled under him and whined as he stilled his hips, keeping himself lodged inside of you as his cock twitched in satisfaction.

He brought his hand up to your face and squeezed your cheeks, making your lips open wider and you automatically stuck your tongue out as he leaned over your face and spat into your mouth.

You rolled your eyes into the back of your head and moaned as you swallowed his saliva down your throat and then you felt him shift, his palms at the back of your thighs, pressing you down into the bed as he pulled out to his tip and then rutted his hips forward, burying himself into the hilt with one swift thrust. And then he did it again and again until you could hear the slap of his skin against yours as the bedsprings bounced loudly in time with his motions.

Harry watched his cock disappear into your cunt and then up to the sight of your tits bouncing every time he slammed into you.

Your moans were gurgled as you struggled to make use of your voice with how deep he was penetrating you and how hard he was going at it.

Your slick walls were so warm and inviting, so perfect for his cock to fuck into. He couldn’t believe his son wouldn’t want to give you what you wanted. Who would throw away the chance to have you the way he was getting to?

“God, look at you, baby…” Harry panted as he slowed his hips and ground into you sharply, “Perfect pussy for Daddy’s cock. Needs stuffed full like this, yeah?” He continued circling his hips against yours, his cock reaching into your guts, the wet sound lewd and dirty.

You looked at his face as he pulled back slightly and then pushed in again, pasting his hips against yours, and leaning over you.

He pulled your hands away from the backs of your knees, and urged your legs down, your feet hitting the mattress as he thrust, his thighs flexing as he worked himself in and out slowly, “How does it feel, baby?”

The new angle provided your clit with the much-needed friction you craved as his pelvis rubbed over you.

“Feels so good. You’re so deep…” you breathed your words.

Harry’s hand found your jaw and his thumb swiped over your lips as you opened and wrapped your mouth around his digit and began to suck immediately.

His deep plunges didn’t let up as he looked down at you with your lips around his thumb. He hadn’t intended for you to take it in your mouth. He just wanted to touch your pouty bottom lip as he fucked you but he loved how eager you were to suck on his thumb.

He let out a shaky breath as he pressed his balls against you and moved his hand away, “Fuck baby… Need all your holes filled don’t you?”

The squelch of his cock breaching your cunt was answer enough. You were so wet and desperate for him that he could feel it and see it in your face as you nodded with your brows scrunched.

His hand moved to your neck, fingers pressing tentatively into the sides of your throat as he rocked into you.

Your mouth parted and you let out a guttural moan at the feel of his hand on your neck. He wasn’t squeezing hard but it felt so hot knowing he could hurt you but wouldn’t.

“You do like that…” he breathed, the front of his thighs against the back of yours as he languidly plunged in deep, “Fuck, baby… you might just be perfect for me.”

Your sob came out choked as you clasped your hands around his forearm that held you down by your neck. You wanted to respond to him but all that you could manage was mangled gulps.

And your head began to spin when your body gave in to him. You handed yourself over completely to his whim as you looked into his eyes. All you wanted to do was to make him feel good, make him want more and more and more.

The gushy wetness of your pussy being fucked into gave Harry a good idea of how much you were enjoying him. How good his cock felt inside of you.

“Is that the spot, right there?” He moaned as he slid his dick through your cunt and felt the bump along your front wall, his tip pressing into it with each pass.

You gurgled as your lips gaped and he squeezed a little more, “It is, isn’t it? Daddy’s gonna learn all your yummy spots, inside and out. Yeah? You gonna let me do that, honey? Gonna let me stick my cock in every one of your little holes and find out what makes you tick?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head again as you began to shake. You’d never been choked before and even though you could tell Harry was taking it easy on you, it felt like floating in fluffy clouds and tasting rich chocolate cream on your tongue. All of your senses were heightened, your heart hammered in your chest as your pussy fluttered around him nearing your release.

“Oh that feels good, doesn’t it? Listen to how wet you are… the way your pussy sounds taking Daddy’s cock.”

He loosened his grip on your neck and you gasped before moaning loudly, “Yes… please, Daddy… you feel so good… I need you…”

Harry groaned as his thrusts grew sloppy, “Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock? Come for Daddy, baby…” His words were panted and strained as he spoke.

His hips were glued to yours as he rutted himself inward, your clit smearing against him as he kept his balls pressed against your ass and you began to unravel under him with a loud moan.

He coughed out a groan as he watched you lose it under him with a loud cry and he gently constricted his fingers around your neck as you clenched over him.

He could feel you vibrating and gushing around him and he released your neck, placing his palms on the mattress next to your shoulders, and began to pound into you, fucking you through your orgasm as he moaned and cooed at you.

Long strokes of his thick cock, as you spasmed around him, sent you into outer space. The sound of wet sex and your creaking bed frame sounded in the room as you cried out.

Harry watched your pretty face as he railed into you with sloppy thrusts. But the moment your cries turned into soft moans and your tensed muscles began to relax as you came down from your high Harry slid his length out of your cunt and pumped his cock, spurting warm come on your tummy and your tits with a deep moan.

Your chest heaved as you watched his arm flex with each stroke of his cock and his abs clenched in his orgasm. You were still floaty and buzzy but you wouldn’t miss watching his face as he milked his cock, draining himself over your skin.

“Fuck…” he breathed as he watched his come paint stripes over your breasts.

It’d been too long since he’d had sex with anyone and you were quite the special treat. Young and pretty with a kinky side he didn’t find in most people he tried dating after his ex-wife. Even she wasn’t that kinky.

But you… You were perfect. He could give you what you wanted. Could show you things most men your age wouldn’t know about.

Harry let go of his cock as he breathed heavily and cupped your face, “You okay?”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile, your eyes lulling open and shut, “Yes, Daddy…” you whispered.

Harry grinned at how cute you were and pushed himself up and off the bed, “Stay right here angel. I’ll be right back.”

The next thing you knew he was wiping you up and kissing your arm and up your neck, “Such a good girl, Y/n.”

His soft words were like a tranquilizer. You could hardly keep your eyes open as he turned off your lamp and then climbed into bed behind you, pulling your back into his chest. All you knew was how warm his skin felt and how comforting his scent was as you sighed and allowed yourself to drift off in the calm of his embrace.

You had never slept so soundly in all your life. One moment you were dozing off and the next an alarm was going off and Harry was shifting behind you to tap his phone, making the noise stop abruptly.

You felt his mouth on your neck and then his whispered words were warm at the back of your ear, “I have to go, sweetheart.”

You groaned and pouted when you remembered it was Friday and you both had to work. In an ideal world, you’d have him stay all day in your bed with you. You pulled his arms tighter around your middle so he couldn’t get up.

You felt his chuckle bounce off your neck, “You're too cute. I don’t want to leave either but I have to. And you should get up too. It’s 7.”

Letting go of his arms he slid himself away from you and you sat up, feeling the slightest ache between your legs.

Reluctantly you stepped down from your bed with a frown and Harry tugged at your hand, pulling you toward him, “Don’t pout. If you want to see me again all you have to do is give me a ring. Yeah?” He raised his brows at you as you nodded.

“See? Pretty easy huh? Said your roommate’s out all weekend?” He smoothed his hands up and down your bare arms.

“Yeah,” you nodded and kept your eyes locked on his.

“Give me a smile, Y/n,” Harry smudged his thumb at the corner of your mouth and you slowly brought the edges of your lips up in a grin.

“There we go,” he gazed at your face, “We had fun. Didn’t we?”

“Yeah. That was fun,” you laughed, suddenly feeling shy.

Harry pressed his mouth to your cheek and then let you go as he picked up the clothes on your floor to dress himself. You slid your t-shirt on and watched him before following him out of your room toward your door.

He grinned at you, his hair was a mess and he had sleep lines on his face from being smushed into the pillow. You thought he looked so soft and sweet like this.

“You know what to do if you want to see me. Yeah?”

You nodded and smiled as he gave you a quick kiss before letting himself out your door.

A quiet squeal of glee fell from your mouth as you rushed to grab your cell phone. You pulled up your messages app and texted Harry right away.

Can you come over tonight?

PART 3

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[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter three ♡

Summary: Life seems to smooth out with Travis, but an encounter with another Miller stirs your feelings again. Joel comes home at night, and a box waits for him at the kitchen. Word count: 4.8k A/N: Here is a shorter chapter (compared to the previous ones lol) while we're waiting for part 4… Can't wait for the Hoffman's barbecue. Joel isn't usually enthusiastic about it, but something tells me he's not going to miss it this time. ALSO, I have tried to tag all of you, but for some reason some tags don't work, if anyone knows how to fix it please let me know <3.

October 17th. The first thing you discovered was a black sweatshirt, crumpled and forgotten, stuffed in the back of your closet among old clothes and memories. You tossed it into the washing machine and set off to search your house for more of Joel’s things. It didn’t take long to find remnants of him: an old Pearl Jam T-shirt, a white mug bearing his initial that you’d pilfered a few months prior, a couple of CDs with his eclectic taste in music, a well-worn paperback novel, and a screwdriver—the very tool you had used to assemble the small piece of furniture for your bathroom, a testament to your attempts at domesticity.

You placed the T-shirt beside the sweatshirt in the washing machine, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash over you as the machine began to spin, the water swirling like your thoughts. The rest of his belongings you carefully set aside in a wooden box, considering when and if you would return them to him. Maybe it would be a gesture of goodwill, a way to close a chapter, but the thought of confronting him felt daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Three weeks later, the distance felt like a weight in your chest. You hadn’t spoken since that last conversation, and every accidental encounter with him had turned into a delicate dance of avoidance, your eyes darting away as if to shield yourself from the unspoken pain. You suspected he was doing the same—his awareness of your schedule precise, his movements deliberate. You didn’t blame him for it; there was a strange gratitude in the space he had created between you, a sanctuary that allowed both of you to breathe.

Sarah, on the other hand, was a constant presence in your life, her visits frequent and welcome. You couldn’t decipher what Joel had shared with her, but she was unequivocal in her understanding that something had shifted between you and her father. 

“Dad said I can come see you as long as I don’t ask too many questions and I don’t fall asleep,” she announced brightly the first afternoon she bounded into your home, just two days after your last exchange with Joel. “But I want you to know I won’t say anything if you want to tell me everything.” 

Her offer was a balm, and despite the lingering pain, you found yourself laughing, the weight lifting slightly as you embraced her. In that moment, you felt relieved to know that Joel had managed to compartmentalize, that his daughter was not to bear the burden of your heartbreak, nor was she responsible for the fallout. You wanted to continue seeing Sarah, and thankfully, she wanted to keep coming over, a small beacon of normalcy in a turbulent time. That connection remained untainted by the rift between you and Joel.

The clock ticked on, and now it was five o’clock on a crisp afternoon. You stood in your front yard, the late autumn sun warming the back of your neck as you surveyed your plants. Closing your eyes, you savored the gentle warmth, the way it wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Your lawn and those of your neighbors glowed with the fiery hues of orange and yellow, leaves fluttering like confetti in the soft breeze. It was, as always, your favorite season.

Suddenly, a voice broke through your reverie, calling your name. You turned to see Travis crossing the street, his smile brightening the drab fall afternoon. You waved back, unable to suppress a smile of your own as he approached.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked, stopping beside you, his hand settling on your waist as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“As much as I can,” you replied, a warmth spreading through you that was both comforting and surprising. Your gaze dropped momentarily to your feet before lifting back to meet his. “Going somewhere?”

“On a quest for dessert,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Care to join?”

You hesitated, considering for a moment. “I’d better stay and get some work done,” you replied, gesturing toward your front door with a tilt of your head. “But let me know when you get back; I’d love to help with dinner.”

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face before he masked it with a smile. After a brief goodbye, he left, giving your waist a gentle squeeze that sent a flutter through your stomach, leaving you feeling both elated and unsettled.

Two weeks prior, you had watched him run past your house, clad in sports gear, hair damp with sweat. There was something magnetic about him; he looked so effortlessly good that a rush of something—determination? Recklessness?—had surged through you. You couldn’t let your past with Joel hold you hostage any longer. It was absurd to keep Travis waiting, simply because you hadn’t been sure of what you felt, or how you should feel. So, you had gathered your courage and knocked on his door, your heart racing at the thought of stepping out of the shadows of your previous life.

When Travis opened the door, his surprise morphing into delight had made your resolve solidify. You’d admitted to him that you were navigating a rough patch, and to his credit, he seemed to understand without pressuring you further. That night, he whisked you away for dinner, and in the weeks that followed, the ease of your time together became a welcome reprieve. 

He was everything you needed—funny, honest, and refreshingly straightforward. He laid his feelings out without demanding anything from you, giving you space to breathe, to recalibrate. You had shared meals together, enjoying his company, indulging in laughter and sweet treats that he always brought, knowing they were your guilty pleasure. 

With him, everything felt uncomplicated, and the more time you spent together, the more you sensed your feelings beginning to shift, like the autumn leaves around you. That night, you resolved to let him make the first move, ready to embrace whatever came next.

*

“What did you think?” Travis asked, his gaze lingering on you, as if the answer might reveal something bigger.

You let out a laugh, the kind that builds in the chest and escapes before you can decide whether it’s actually funny or just absurd. “That was… utterly ridiculous,” you said, watching the movie credits roll up the screen. “Ridiculous and completely unbelievable.”

He grinned, sinking back into the couch beside you, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of shared amusement. “Right? It’s like... a marvel in chaos. Terrible, but in a way that you can’t look away.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of disbelief and fondness for his strange taste in movies. Zombeavers. He’d made you watch Zombeavers—a movie so bizarrely nonsensical that you couldn’t help but laugh half the time, its zombie-beaver puppets meant to be terrifying but only succeeding in being bizarre. He’d assured you beforehand that it was purely for fun, the kind of film that didn’t demand to be taken seriously, and you’d been dubious but willing.

As your laughter softened, you shifted just a little closer to him, that familiar but thrilling nervousness making your heart flutter. Travis had turned his attention to scrolling through movie options, his fingers lightly tapping the remote as he concentrated. For a brief moment, you hesitated, wondering if it was obvious—how close you were, how much you wanted him to notice. Gathering your courage, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting your gaze drift up to his face just as he glanced down, his eyes softening.

“Are you sleepy, pretty girl?” he murmured, and his voice had that gentle, familiar warmth that made you feel like a teenager again. Your cheeks flushed, and you wondered if he could feel your pulse quicken against him.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you smiled up at him. Tentatively, you lifted a hand to trace the line of his jaw, your fingers grazing his skin as you tilted his face closer. “I just like being with you.”

Travis’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, his hand cradling your face with such tenderness that it nearly broke something in you. His lips met yours softly, a gentle touch, unhurried and respectful, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sank into the kiss, letting it ground you, feeling cherished and safe in a way you hadn’t for a long time.

But there, at the edge of your mind, was Joel. Joel with his intense, almost possessive hunger, the way he’d kiss you as if he were afraid he’d never have the chance again. That rawness, the recklessness—it was such a stark contrast to Travis’s gentle control, his restraint. And part of you hated yourself for even thinking about it, for craving something so reckless, for missing what you knew wasn’t good for you.

You pulled back slowly, afraid that your eyes might betray the swirl of conflicting feelings inside you. Travis’s gaze lingered, his hand still on your cheek, and he seemed almost reluctant to let you go, waiting for you to guide him back in. His patience was admirable, though you felt a strange frustration at the lack of urgency, the careful distance he maintained.

“I’m actually a little tired,” you said, giving him a quick peck on the lips, hoping he wouldn’t see through the slight restlessness in your eyes. “But I’d love to see you tomorrow. How about dinner at my place?”

He nodded, his face brightening. “Sounds perfect.” He stood, reaching out a hand to help you up. “I’ll walk you to your door, and that's just an excuse for another goodnight kiss.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand and letting him pull you up, feeling the warmth of his arm around you as you leaned against him. Outside, the air was brisk, the night cool against your skin, and you wished you’d thought to bring a jacket. Not that it mattered much; Travis lived just across the block, a short walk away, but close enough to Joel’s house that the proximity always felt strange. 

Crossing the street, you noticed Joel’s truck wasn’t there, and you willed yourself not to dwell on it, tuning back in to Travis’s voice as he asked, “Are you going?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Going where?” you asked, your voice apologetic. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“To the Hoffmans’ barbecue,” he said easily, unbothered by your momentary distraction.

Ah, the Hoffmans’ annual Halloween gathering, an event known for Brenda’s culinary enthusiasm and Ian’s grill mastery. Last year, Brenda had baked an array of spooky treats—eyeball jellies, spider cupcakes, you name it. Sarah had devoured at least ten jelly eyes, and you’d indulged in an uncountable number of chocolate spiders. The evening had ended with a viewing of Nightmare on Elm Street, and everyone had left buzzing with laughter and sugar.

“Yes, of course,” you replied, nodding with more enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t miss it. Brenda is amazing at baking. Have you tried her red berry cupcakes?”

“They’re dangerous,” Travis agreed, grinning as he walked you up to your doorstep.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you glanced over to see Tommy, Joel’s brother, sitting on the front porch of Joel’s house, a cigarette hanging lazily from his fingers. He watched you with a friendly, knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, though you quickened your pace slightly as you reached your door.

“So, what time tomorrow?” Travis asked, tilting his head.

“Eight?” you suggested, feeling an odd mix of excitement and unease.

“Perfect,” he replied, and once again his hand lifted to your cheek, thumb tracing the curve softly. But as he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of invisible eyes from across the street, watching. Your mind lingered, unbidden, on Tommy’s piercing gaze.

Travis leaned down, and you met his kiss, brief, almost rushed, pulling away with a small, nervous smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered, glancing up at him before stepping back. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmured.

You stood watching him leave, distractedly thinking about the evening you'd spent. You were annoyed that you hadn't accepted his date earlier, and at the same time, you didn't blame yourself too much. 

When Travis walked into his house and closed the door, an involuntary sigh escaped your chest.

"Everything okay over there?" Tommy’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, sounding like a splash of cold water. He was sitting on the front steps, watching you with a casual curiosity that somehow felt entirely too knowing.

You approached slowly, glancing toward the empty entrance of Joel’s house.

"Hey, Tommy," you greeted, a hint of melancholy coloring your voice. It was strange, seeing him here alone—another Miller, but not the one who lingered in your mind. "How are you?"

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the step, shrugging with a small grin. "Well, currently on a break from babysitting duty," he joked. "What about you? It’s been a while—what’d Joel do now?"

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the irony of it all making your stomach tighten. He probably didn’t know anything, yet he’d been part of Joel’s carefully built wall of deception. It made you feel odd, but you brushed the feeling aside.

"I've just been busy," you said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded.

Tommy nodded, understanding the subtext without question. "Right," he said, an amused smile forming, "So, Dunn got the girl?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, though you realized too late that your openness might be ill-placed. "Yeah. He’s a good man. I really like him."

It felt surreal, sharing this with Joel’s brother, but somehow you didn’t mind.

"Sarah’s asleep?" you asked, changing the subject, hoping for some distraction.

He nodded, his smile softening. "Out like a light right after dinner. Poor kid didn’t even try the ice cream she begged me to get for movie night." He chuckled, shaking his head.

You smiled at the image, letting yourself savor the thought of Sarah, the cozy living room, the quiet warmth that had always drawn you to this house. It felt bittersweet, like glimpsing a life you no longer fit into. The last time you’d been there flickered in your mind, and any warmth vanished.

When you glanced back at Tommy, he was watching you, brow furrowed slightly, as if trying to read what you weren’t saying.

"I don’t mean to pry," he began cautiously, his tone gentle. "But Joel’s been… well, intolerable lately. Can I ask what happened?"

You raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile creeping onto your lips. "Sure, Tommy," you replied, a touch of sarcasm bleeding through. "He hasn’t told you anything?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I asked him once, a couple of days ago, and he practically bit my head off."

You let out a dry sigh, crossing your arms. "He lied to me, pretty sure you know about that," you said, feeling the weight of it again. "We argued, and… things just happened."

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly, but the look of surprise faded quickly, replaced by a knowing smile. He stood up, crossing his arms as he stepped closer, his gaze amused and unrelenting.

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "You two slept together."

Your mouth fell open, and you dropped your arms, an incredulous laugh escaping.

"Shut up," you muttered, taking a step forward, cheeks flushing.

Tommy laughed, as if this moment had been a long time coming. "I always knew it would happen," he said, his tone only half-joking. "Ever since Joel introduced you, I swear, the guy had heart eyes and all. Poor guy looked like he was about to carve your name into every tree from here to the city limits. It was almost embarrassing."

You shook your head, a pang of sadness pressing on your chest. "That’s not it, Tommy. That’s not… it’s not true."

He studied you, unconvinced, his brow furrowing slightly, though the amused glint remained in his eyes.

"Joel doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want… us," you continued, your voice quiet but certain. "And honestly, I don’t think I do either." The words tasted bitter even as you said them, yet you held his gaze, determined to mean it. "I think I might actually like Travis."

"I see." Tommy’s nod was slow, his eyes searching yours as if detecting the truth you weren’t quite hiding.

“Where is he?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you almost wished you could take it back. You shouldn’t be concerned about where Joel was spending his nights. But curiosity itched at you, demanding answers.

Tommy hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth, glancing off as if debating whether to answer. The pause made you anxious, and you shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. "He, um, he went to see—"

"Sienna," you finished, the name coming out like a blade you hadn’t prepared for. Tommy’s nod confirmed it, and you felt it cut a little deeper than you’d anticipated.

The thought of Joel being with her after being with you twisted something fierce and raw inside. Yet, a part of you was oddly grateful for the pain; it reminded you just how little he’d been affected by all of this, how seamlessly he’d returned to life as it had been. Why should he have changed anything for one night? That didn’t mean enough to make him reconsider Sienna, his plans, his life without you. It was unbearable and somehow clarifying.

With your voice steadier than you expected, you looked back at Tommy. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Come with me for a second." You spun on your heel, heading toward your house, and you heard Tommy’s footsteps fall into step behind you. Inside, you gestured for him to wait in the foyer, then climbed the stairs, your heart pounding. A rush of resentment, of something close to fury, washed over you. You had to rid yourself of everything that still held you back to him, everything he’d left behind.

When you came back down, you were carrying a box, simple and impersonal. Tommy glanced at it, lifting an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"A couple of Joel’s things. Be a dear and save me the trip of bringing them back to him." You smiled tightly, the effort to stay composed nearly exhausting you.

Tommy laughed, clearly amused by the defiance in your expression.

"Yes, ma’am," he said with a grin, giving you a small salute as he took the box. You watched him step over the threshold, the box in his hands, feeling a strange mix of relief and something hollow.

"Thank you, Tommy," you said softly, closing the door as he left. Alone in the quiet of your house, your shoulders slumped, and all the strength you’d gathered felt like it was leaking away, leaving behind the ache of realization. Joel wasn’t just far from you; he was unreachable, a memory already fading, three weeks stretching like an eternity between you and the friend he’d once been.

*

Joel opened the door slowly, shoulders slumped, his gaze dropping to the floor before he even stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet, as if it were waiting for him to finally fill it. He glanced around the empty living room, feeling the stillness of the space, then checked the time on his wristwatch: 11 p.m. It felt later than that, somehow.

“Tommy?” he called, his voice breaking the silence as he moved into the kitchen, where he found his brother, casually leaning against the counter with a bowl of ice cream, looking like he’d been waiting all night.

“How was your night?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone almost amused, as if he were privy to some unspoken secret.

Joel exhaled, the kind of tired sigh that settled deep in his chest, and dropped heavily into one of the wooden chairs at the table. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, dragging it down over his mouth before resting it on the table, the weariness of the day palpable in the lines of his face. His eyes met Tommy’s probing gaze, and he tilted his head, frowning slightly.

“Fine,” he replied, his tone clipped and a little defensive. “How was Sarah?”

“She conked out right after dinner,” Tommy replied, a smirk beginning to play at the corners of his mouth, his eyes narrowing with that look of brotherly mischief. “And how was Sienna?”

Joel rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, shaking his head as if he could shake off the whole conversation.

“Are you staying over?” he asked after a few beats, redirecting, his voice carefully casual.

Tommy chuckled. “Only if you, sir, will permit me,” he replied with a mock salute.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, getting up from his seat. “Do what you want, but don’t be a pain in my ass,” he added, half-serious, half-amused, as he walked over to the counter beside his brother.

He pulled open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. Tommy watched him, saying nothing, but his gaze lingered, curious, perceptive. Joel poured water into a glass, bringing it to his lips, pausing for a long drink before turning to face his brother. He could feel Tommy’s gaze boring into him, the silence thickening between them.

Joel looked up, his own gaze steady.

“What?” he asked, the word flat, all pretense of patience gone.

“Nothing,” Tommy said, drawing the word out, clearly testing the limits of Joel’s patience. Then, almost too casually, he tilted his chin toward a box resting by the wall across the kitchen.

Joel followed his gaze, his brow furrowing as he walked over. He lifted the box, feeling the weight of it in his hands, then set it down on the counter. With a cautious look at Tommy, he placed his hands on the lid, hesitating.

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “Good for her,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Joel’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tommy, as if by sheer force he could undo his brother’s last statement. “Wait—you asked her? Tommy, you better not be going around—” 

“Relax,” Tommy cut in, hands raised in mock surrender, though there was still a hint of smugness in his expression. “We just had a small conversation, okay? Didn’t even mention you.” 

Joel let out a sharp, bitter laugh, though his face betrayed a flicker of something raw. His fingers tapped the box, restless and resentful, as if it were the box’s fault for bringing up everything he didn’t want to admit. Then, his voice low and clipped, he gestured to the countertop. “Clean this up when you’re done,” he said, his tone rough. “And don’t piss me off.” 

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, each step heavy and quick, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. The tension in his back, the way his shoulders held too much weight, said enough. Who did Tommy think he was, coming in here with all that, telling him things he didn’t need to hear? He didn’t care about any of it. As far as he was concerned, you could date Travis, marry him if that’s what you wanted. None of it mattered to him. 

But as he climbed the stairs two at a time, his mind raced against his will. You’d been clear, hadn’t you? You didn’t want him in your life. No friendship, no connection, nothing. The words echoed, hollow and yet heavy. And as he reached the top of the stairs, he wondered how many more nights he’d have to wrestle with that idea, struggling to wrap his head around a life where you were nothing more than a memory he had to stop revisiting.

The sooner he accepted it, the easier it would be to see you with Travis, to manage the surge of irritation at the thought of his hands on you, to ignore the image of his arm slung casually around your shoulders. If he could accept it—if he did accept it—it would get easier, right? At least that’s what he told himself. He didn’t care. Obviously, he didn’t care.

He didn’t care that you’d decided to shut him out. Didn’t care that you were so resolute about it, that you barely seemed to miss him. He certainly didn’t care that he’d rearranged his mornings and evenings so he wouldn’t have to see you by accident. It wasn’t as if he still glanced at your door every time he came home, half-hoping he’d see you there, offering a smile and some easy excuse to stay. No, he wasn’t dwelling on how long it had been since he’d heard your voice or felt the comfortable warmth of your hand against his. Nearly a month now. And he was perfectly fine with it, honestly. It didn’t bother him one bit.

So fine, in fact, that he ended things with Sienna over dinner without a moment’s hesitation. Her face had gone blank with surprise, but he’d brushed it off, even throwing in some lie about being “too busy” to make it work, anything to avoid her prying questions. She’d looked at him, confused but oddly resigned, as if she’d sensed his mind had been elsewhere for a while. He didn't care, he was fine with it.

But later that night,Travis Dunn had brought you to your door—walked you up, murmured something as he leaned close, maybe kissed you goodnight. Joel didn’t know the details, but the image of it burned into his mind anyway. He sat in his room alone, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, mocking himself for how easily he’d let the thought take root. You, wrapped up with Dunn. Pf.

In the darkness of his bedroom, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the empty space beside him, the silence amplifying every unspoken word, every unfulfilled touch. He was fine with it. Of course he was. He repeated it in his mind, willing himself to believe it, even as a hollow ache throbbed in his chest.

And as if the universe were doubling down on the irony, that night he dreamed of you.

-

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame @auteurdelabre

[hookingminor]

4 times you took care of him + 1 time he took care of you - nico hischier

a/n: rewrite of an old fic of mine

cw: brief mentions of blood, stitches, alcohol

word count: 7.4k

summary: nico is the cute neighbor boy across the hall

-

1. 

Sunday nights were your nights. After a long week of studying and working crazy hours, you only had one day to yourself where you weren’t running around like a chicken with its head cut off and could take five minutes to finally breathe. 

Sundays were also the only days you actually took the time to make yourself dinner. Most of your days were either spent in class or at the hospital, so you never prepared anything that couldn’t be done in less than ten minutes. Sometimes you were so lazy that you just counted on cafeteria food and granola bars to hold you over before having cereal for dinner and crashing by eleven o’clock.

Tonight’s specialty was your own take on a carbonara with some grilled chicken on the top. It wasn’t anything fancy, but you had been working on a recipe to perfect this for nearly three months now, and you were almost satisfied with the results.

It was in the middle of adding the finishing touches by combining the pasta and the sauce when you heard a knock on your door. Setting the towel on the counter and reducing the stove heat to a low simmer, you made your way to answer the door.

“Oh, hi, Nico,” you said with surprise when you saw your neighbor on the other side. He lived across the hall from you, but you rarely saw him in the building. Still, it wasn’t hard to notice that he was incredibly attractive.

“Hi,” he greeted you. The smells of your dinner wafted over him, and he peeked over your head to catch a glimpse of what you were preparing. 

“I just stopped by to drop this off,” he said, handing you an envelope. “They keep mixing up our mailboxes.”

“Thank you,” you replied as you glanced down at the letter. “I have a few for you as well, hold on just a second.”

You turned away from the door and walked back towards the kitchen to where you kept a stash of his mail. You’d been meaning to drop it off, but your hours at home never coincided with each other. 

Granted, you could have slipped it under his door, but you really just wanted an excuse to talk to the cute neighbor boy. You were just waiting until you worked up the nerve to knock on his door.

Nico took a few steps into your apartment, not wanting to overstep but also not wanting to stand in the hall awkwardly as you rummaged through some papers. As he waited, his eyes wandered back over to the stove where you were cooking some type of pasta. 

His stomach growled lowly as the smell of seasoned chicken and sauces flooded his senses, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything in nearly five hours.

“Sorry,” he said with a blush. There was no way you hadn’t heard that grumble. “Guess I forgot to eat something after practice.”

“Did you want some?” You asked almost too eagerly. “I mean, I made quite a bit,” you backtracked quickly, “I usually survive the week on leftovers.”

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckled, but Nico wanted nothing more than to shove a forkful of whatever you had made into his mouth. “I’ll probably just order something for delivery.”

“Please, I insist,” you persisted, “I made a lot, and your food won’t be here for, like, another hour at least.” God, you were coming off as desperate, and you mentally slapped yourself for it.

He looked at you hesitantly, obviously not wanting to intrude, but damn if he wasn’t really hungry.

You didn’t wait for his reply before dropping the mail back where it was and crossing the kitchen to the stove. Pulling out an extra plate, you began piling it with pasta and chicken, and Nico figured it was too late to refuse you again.

“Take a seat,” you suggested as you plated a dish for yourself. “You’re not an intrusion, I promise. I don’t get a lot of company anyways.”

“Busy life?” Nico asked. It was then that he realized he really didn’t know much about you despite having run into you multiple times in the hallways.

“You could say that,” you chuckled humorlessly. It was a combination of being both busy and having no friends, but you weren’t about to tell him that. 

“What do you do?” He questioned as he rested his elbows on the table.

“I’m a nursing student, so I spend all my time studying or working at the hospital,” you explained as you brought the plates over to the table. He mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ when you set his food down in front of him. It looked delicious. Nico’s skills in the kitchen were subpar to say the least; he couldn’t make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or wasn’t baked chicken and vegetables. So having an actual home cooked meal was starting to feel like Christmas.

“Is that why I only ever see you coming home at midnight?” He wondered, picking up a fork to take a bite.

Nico was right, it was delicious. 

“Yeah, hours are a little crazy for me right now, but they should settle down once I graduate,” you replied as you took a bite. It was your best carbonara yet, but it wasn’t quite perfect. “What about you? Why are you always coming home at midnight?”

You’d never talked to him much after that first day when he helped you with a couple boxes as you moved in. Most of your interactions were restricted to passing each other in the halls and the polite conversation about how your day was going and the weather.

“I, uh, play hockey,” he started, “and we get back from road trips really late sometimes.”

“No shit, really?” Your eyes widened in shock, “like you play for the Devils?” You weren’t well versed in sports in general, and even less so in New Jersey sports. However, you did hear chatter around from your classmates and coworkers about various games.

Nico nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, I’m the captain.” Every revelation about him continued to shock you.

“So I’m dining with New Jersey royalty then, huh?” You teased after a moment. Even though you didn’t know much, you did know the Devils were doing exceptionally well at the moment.

He blushed at your compliment, “I’m not royalty.”

“Your team’s current record says otherwise given the team’s horrendous past ,” you commented, dropping the little bit of knowledge you knew as you overheard your lab partner go on about the Devils’ hot streak.

Nico raised his eyebrows in surprise at your statement.

“I’m not an actual fan, so don’t test me,” you chuckled at his surprise, “My lab partner is always talking about the Devils, and I may have unknowingly processed some of the information.”

“It’s not because of me. The team’s just doing well in general,” he brushed it off casually, but you knew that wasn’t totally the case. The team may be good, but good leadership can be what makes or breaks them.

“So you’re not a big cook then, I presume?” You asked instead, changing the subject to something else. Nico probably talked about hockey enough with other people, you didn’t want to bore him even more.

“You could say that,” he said, repeating your phrase from earlier. “If it’s not something a seven year old could make, it’s not something I could make.” He had barely registered that he’d finished off everything on his plate by now while you were still finishing yours.

“Did you want more?” You asked, noticing his empty plate, but Nico shook his head.

“No, thank you, this was more than enough,” Nico insisted. “I’ve bothered you enough tonight.”

“Really, I don’t mind,” you said, clearing off your plate. “It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t asking me about upcoming exams or patient reports or asking for more painkillers.”

“It’s nice not talking about hockey, too,” he agreed.

Rising from your seat, you took his plate and yours to the sink as you were both now finished.

“I got this,” Nico said quickly, following you to the sink and lightly hip checking you out the way. “I do know basic manners. You cooked, so I’ll clean.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but the look on his face said the conversation was already over, and he grabbed the sponge with one hand. Deciding to leave it alone, you held your hands up in surrender and backed away from the sink. While he was busy, you packed up the leftovers into a plastic container.

“I make dinner every Sunday,” you said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “So, if you want, you’re always free to join me.” You didn’t look at him when you said this, trying to keep it casual and so he wouldn’t see the way your face was riddled with embarrassment. You were trying to subtly ask him to come over more, and you didn’t want to be faced with his rejection.

You heard the sink shutoff and saw his body turn towards yours out of the corner of your eyes as he leaned against the counter.

“I’d really like that,” he said, “but I do have one condition though.” You looked up and met his gaze with raised brows.

“You have to teach me how to cook,” he continued with an easy grin as he dried off his hands with a towel.

“You’ve got a deal,” you agreed, matching his smile with one of your own.

You sent Nico home that night with the leftover carbonara and his mail despite his protests, but you argued that he couldn’t live off takeout forever and that you could always make more food whereas he could not.

The next Sunday he had showed up around dinner time once again, this time bringing over a plate of cookies that he most definitely bought at the store but tried to play off as baking them himself. He had said if you were going to be doing a majority of the work, the least he could do was bring you something in return.

Every Sunday after that Nico was at your place. On the off chance he was out of town, he always left you a note on your door saying he wouldn’t be making it and notifying you of when he’d see you next. You didn’t need the notes, he didn’t have to tell you whether or not he was coming, but they made your heart flutter every time you came home and saw a blue sticky note waiting for you. 

You taught him a few staple dishes, mainly how to cook pasta and rice and some salads. His capabilities weren’t all that vast, and he wanted to remain in the realm of foods that weren’t too complicated so he couldn’t fuck up.

Making dinner with Nico turned into messing around in the kitchen for a couple hours most of the time. You teased him about his chopping abilities and he teased you every time your small hands dropped something due to your lack of coordination, to which you complained how not everyone could be a professional athlete. 

And every time you two ate at your same spots at the table, sometimes splitting a bottle of wine that Nico would bring over. 

Every once in a while Nico would arrive with a bag of takeout in his hand, declaring that you needed a break from all the cooking. There was no reason to have dinner together since it wasn’t under the guise of teaching him something new, but you still welcomed him nonetheless.

Sundays were no longer your nights, but that was perfectly fine by you as long as you could keep sharing them with Nico.

-

2. 

Nico was getting a little desperate. 

Two months had passed since he started coming over for weekly dinners, and he was making no progress. It’s not like he was really trying, though. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure how to flirt with a woman without the intention of sleeping with her.

Which isn’t to say he didn’t want to sleep with you because he definitely did, it just wasn’t all that he wanted.

He hoped he conveyed interest on his part, but he wasn’t positive you were picking up on his hints. Or maybe you just weren’t into him.

So, he decided to take it one step further. He bought some plants.

Nico knew next to nothing about plants other than that they needed water, but he’d noticed you kept a few in your apartment near your large window.

Once again, he found himself knocking on your door, but this time you weren’t expecting it.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked him when you opened the door. It wasn’t like him to show up to your place out of the blue.

“I wanted to ask you a favor,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got a week long roadie and was wondering if, maybe, you’d look after my plants?”

“Oh yeah, definitely, I can do that,” you said with a smile.

“Do you have a minute right now? I can show them to you really quick,” he asked, gesturing with his arm to his door. You nodded your head in agreement, and Nico took a few steps backward to let you into his apartment.

You followed him through the entrance and paused briefly. His apartment layout was the exact same as yours only flipped. He walked until he hit the same balcony window where you kept your plants, and you saw he had about four small pots along with a large pot that sat in the corner.

“This is the gang,” he introduced, spreading his arms to show them off.

“This is so cute,” you chuckled, stepping closer to get a better look at the plants. You noticed one of them was also one you had.

“I’m going to be honest,” he started. “I only recently bought them, so I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“Well, they seem to be still living, so you haven’t done anything too bad,” you teased lightly.

“Oh, let me get the spare key for you,” he said suddenly before he turned and left you alone to fetch the key.

Nico returned less than a minute later, small black key fob in his hand. You opened your hand for him to place it in your palm.

“When will you be back?” You asked, stretching back up from your squatted position.

“Next Wednesday,” he clarified, “and I leave tomorrow.” You nodded.

There wasn’t much more to say, so you told him a brief ‘good luck’ on his roadie before leaving. Returning to your own, you made a mental note to check in on his plants tomorrow.

The following afternoon, you let yourself into Nico’s apartment with the key he’d given you. You read the sticky note he left for you on the counter, the words reading ‘in case of an emergency’ along with his phone number.

You rolled your eyes at the note, laughing lightly at his phrasing of ‘in case of an emergency.’ You hardly thought watering plants would cause a catastrophic event, but the gesture was cute.

Filling up a few cups of water, you made your way over to his plants and distributed the water throughout until you’d gone over all of them. Before you could think better of it, you snapped a picture of the plants in the window before opening a text thread to Nico.

You: First day all done! :)

He didn’t reply for a few hours, but that was okay because you hadn’t expected him to reply at all.

Nico: They’re looking better already!

Ever since that first day, you began exchanging messages. His replies were sporadic, but you didn’t mind; he was a busy guy. Still, he managed to text you whenever he could, and your conversations quickly turned away from his plants to other subjects. 

You recommended some new shows for him to watch while he was on road trips, and he told you where his favorite takeout restaurants were when you felt too lazy to cook. 

Honestly, Sundays didn’t feel the same without him, but you didn’t tell him you stopped cooking when he didn’t show up.

Even when Nico was back in town, you found yourself texting him frequently in your classes and also on your breaks, and Nico found himself waking up every morning looking forward to whatever message you’d sent after he’d fallen asleep.

-

3. 

The incessant pounding at your door woke you up from your sleep. You knew who it was immediately as there was only one person who visited you, and you were ready to yell at him after you answered the door. 

Throwing on a sweatshirt, you stomped your way to the door and shouted out, “I’m coming!” so Nico could take the hint to shut the hell up.

“Oh my god, Nico,” you groaned as you threw open the door, “It’s two in the fucking morning.” But it wasn’t Nico you were greeted with.

Or rather, he wasn’t the only one outside the door.

“Uh, hi,” a man said as Nico leaned against him, very obviously drunk.

“Hi?” You asked, your eyes flicking over to the drunken Nico.

“I think he lost his key,” the stranger said, “and then he was knocking on your door before I could take him back to my place.”

“Of course,” you sighed. “You love bothering me, don’t you, Nico?”

“Y/N,” he slurred your name when he heard your voice. “I told you she was beautiful, Hughes.” He clearly meant to whisper the last part into his friend’s ear, but his impaired state changed his whisper into a quiet shout.

“Alright, buddy, let’s keep it down,” his friend said with a chuckle as he tried to spare him from saying something else embarrassing.

“Do you still have my key? I forgot mine,” Nico asked instead, lifting his eyes to yours.

“I left it in your apartment last time I watered the plants,” you answered and Nico let out an annoyed groan.

“It’s fine, he can stay here tonight,” you said, addressing his friend this time.

“You sure? I don’t want to bother you,” his friend insisted. “I can just bring him back to my place.”

“Don’t worry about it, you already dragged him all the way here. I can handle it,” you said and opened the door further.

His friend lugged him into your apartment and led Nico to the couch, plopping him down on the cushions.

“Thanks for doing this. I’m sorry for waking you,” he apologized once Nico was settled.

“No problem, I’m used to him interrupting my nights,” you chuckled lightly, though it sounded more sexual than you intended for it to.

“Yeah, well,” the stranger said with an awkward laugh, “I’ll get out of your hair then.” And then he turned to leave. “Hischier! Text me in the morning!” He called out one last time and Nico grumbled his acknowledgement. Then his friend was gone, leaving you alone with a drunken twenty-something year old.

“Alright, Nico, let’s get you ready for bed,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. He was splayed out on his back on your couch, head lolled against a decorative pillow. If it weren’t for his indecipherable sounds, you would’ve thought he was asleep.

You left him alone for a minute as you retreated back to your room to grab a couple extra blankets and a pillow that wouldn’t end up hurting his neck.

When you returned, Nico was now on his stomach with one arm dangled off the couch.

“Feeling okay, bud?” You asked gently, brushing back a few strands of his hair to check if he was still awake. He hummed a quiet ‘yeah’ and you lifted his head to replace the throw pillow with a fluffier one from your bed.

You draped one large blanket over his body and then set another smaller one on top of that. Nico sighed in content and you made a quick trip to the kitchen to retrieve a couple Advil pills and a glass of water.

“Can you drink this before you fall asleep?” You asked when you got back to the living room. 

Despite his intoxication, Nico managed to sit up just enough to swallow the pills down with a drink of water before flopping his head back down. You set the half-full glass on the coffee table and leaned over to turn off the lamp.

“You good to sleep?” You questioned, and Nico nodded his head to the best of his ability.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” you said finally, making your way back to the hallway.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly before you were out of hearing range, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nico,” you murmured with a small smile.

-

4.

“How the hell did this even happen? Sticks are supposed to remain on the ice, you know,” you wondered with curiosity. 

Nico knocked on your door at nearly midnight, hair still damp from his shower and still in his Devils sweats. If it weren’t for the fact that you were awake and watching a movie, you wouldn’t have noticed the knocking. 

When you opened the door, you were met with split stitches and tired eyes. Ushering him into your apartment, you led him to the bathroom where you kept the first-aid. 

Nico pushed himself up so he could sit on your counter and gave you a sheepish smile.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “They stitched me up after the game, but they came out.”

“So, why didn’t you contact your trainers or something?” You inquired, opening your kit and grabbing the alcohol.

“Because I have a perfectly good nurse here at home to stitch me back up,” he answered with an easy grin. You gave him an incredulous look.

“It seems like I’m constantly getting the short end of the stick in this relationship,” you said as you stepped between his legs to inspect his face. It wasn’t anything serious, just a few stitches that broke. In all honesty, he probably could’ve survived the night without fixing it, but you weren’t going to turn down an opportunity to be this close to him.

“Close your eyes,” you ordered before he could say anything back. Nico followed your instruction obediently, fluttering his eyes shut as if he had all the time in the world.

Using a small pair of scissors, you snipped at the remaining stitches. You took the tweezers next and gently pulled at the broken strands, slowly removing them from his cheek. Nico’s eyes twitched slightly at the discomfort, but he said nothing as you reopened his wound.

“You’re really good at this,” he stated, and you noticed that he had opened one eye to watch you. You blushed at his compliment, your cheeks heating at the warm feeling you got when you looked into his eyes.

Averting his gaze, you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ before opening an alcohol pad.

“You’re going to want to really close your eyes for this, it might burn,” you recommended. The cut was along his cheekbone, stretching about three inches and oozing just a little bit of blood.

You cleaned along the cut lightly, one of your hands cupping his cheek while the other managed the wipe. After throwing the bloodied pad off to the side, you brought out the small bottle of lidocaine you had stashed away underneath all your bandaids. You squeezed a bit onto a cotton swab and dabbed the area around the cut. The lidocaine took a few minutes to kick in, so you busied yourself by preparing the thread and sanitizing the needle.

“I want you to know that I’m not actually a certified nurse yet. I’m still in training,” you explained. “So, if this hurts it’s your fault.”

“I trust you,” he said simply with a smirk.

“I would hope so,” you scoffed, “You’re letting a nursing student with a needle stitch near the eye of the New Jersey Devils Captain.”

“Besides, if you fuck up, I’ll just blame it on you when we lose after I can’t play because I’ve been blinded,” he teased.

“Don’t even joke about that, Nico. All of New Jersey would burn me alive,” you said, slugging his arm in response.

Was he about to let a beautiful, uncertified girl stitch him back together just because he wanted an excuse to spend more time with her? Absolutely.

He gave you a light chuckle as he leaned back on his hands, the fabric of his t-shirt stretching deliciously over his broad chest. It took everything in you to not linger your eyes over his arms and how large they looked right now.

“Is it numb yet?” You asked instead, refocusing your attention on threading the needle.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied, bringing a couple fingers to poke at his cheek, but you swatted his hand away before he could do more damage.

Taking the same position as before, you stood between his legs again and angled his head slightly to the side so you could examine it under better light.

“Just let me know if it hurts, okay?” You insisted, holding the needle between your tweezers. You waited for Nico’s nod of agreement before starting.

You punctured the skin with the point and crossed the wound before poking through the other side. Nico’s hands instinctively reached out to grasp at your hips as he breathed in a sharp breath of air. 

“Oh my god, is it not numb?” You panicked, pausing all your movements as you gauged his face for any signs of pain.

“It stung a little bit,” he replied, but the tightened grip on your waist said otherwise. “I was just a little shocked, is all.” He added that last part when he saw the worry spread across your face as your eyes widened in fear of hurting him. “Keep going, I’m fine.”

You gave him a hesitant look, not wanting to continue if it was going to cause him pain. This time when he squeezed your sides, it was to reassure you and encourage you to continue. 

Nico kept his hands where they were, sliding his thumbs just underneath the hem of your shirt to trace soft circles into your skin. Recommencing your movements, you repeated the same crisscrossing threads over his cut, trying to work as quickly as possible.

When you’d finished, you knotted off the ends, clipped the remaining thread, and applied a salve over the sealed wound.

“There you go,” you said as you finished touching him up.

“And my kiss to make it feel better?” He asked with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at his presumptuousness but leaned in to press a light kiss near his stitches.

“Can I trust you to not pull them out again?” You retorted, stepping out of his grip to clean up your supplies.

“I don’t know…” he trailed off as in deep contemplation, “I might need you to spend the night and keep an eye on me.”

“Nice try, bud,” you chuckled, “but it’s not going to happen.” He pouted. 

“And if you do tear them again, I’m not restitching it.”

You finished packing away your materials and walked Nico back to your front door.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said when you opened the door. 

“Anytime,” you replied, “Goodnight, Nico.”

Leaning forward, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek in appreciation before crossing the few feet to his door. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes widened in shock, but if he did see, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

-

+ 1 

For the first time since you’ve met Nico, it was finally your turn to cancel on dinner. You really didn’t want to, as the dinners with him were the highlight of your week, but you knew if you broke concentration for even a minute to entertain him, your mind would be thinking about him even after he left. And you were not going to pass the NCLEX if Nico was invading all of your thoughts. You’d been studying for this exam for months, but now it was a week out and it was crunch time.

You: Gotta cancel on dinner Sunday, sorry :(

Nico: Going out of town? Got a hot date?

You: The only dates I’ll be having for the next week is between me and my millions of notes for my board exam 

Nico: Stressed out?

You: You wouldn’t even believe, so if I’m MIA for a few days, don’t worry 

Nico: Are we still on for next Sunday?

You: Yes. We will either be celebrating or commiserating, so get your wine ready

Nico: I’ll bring over the best since we’ll be celebrating :)

You didn’t know how to reply, so you reacted to his message with a thumbs up before leaving him on read.

-

For the next few days, you studied your ass off. Sunday came, but when six o’clock rolled around, you couldn’t help your thoughts from straying from your studies and over to what you would be doing with Nico if it weren’t for this stupid exam.

And as if he had read your mind, your phone dinged with a new text message.

Nico: Open your door

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you read the text, and you were just about to tell him off for disturbing you after you already told him you didn’t have the time.

However, that wasn’t the case because when you opened your door, Nico was nowhere to be found although a paper bag rested on the ground in front of you. 

Cautiously, you picked up the bag and brought it inside, immediately smelling the tzatziki sauce from your favorite Greek restaurant.

You: What’s this?

You texted him, along with a picture of the bag.

Nico: Even if we aren’t making dinner, you should still eat, and I figured gyros were better than cereal 

He was right. You had planned on pouring yourself a bowl of cereal when the hunger became too much and forced you to take a break. And gyros definitely were better than Frosted Flakes.

You: You’re a lifesaver, truly. Thank you!

Nico opened the message and didn’t reply, even though he really wanted to, but he knew you had studying to do and the last thing he wanted was to distract you.

-

After pulling an all-nighter, Sunday slowly turned into Monday, and you had finally decided to go to bed at nine on Monday morning. The few hours of sleep you got were welcomed, but rest did little to calm yourself down. The exam was on Friday, and you still had four years worth of material to remember. 

So, you dragged yourself out of bed around three in the afternoon and plopped yourself on the ground in front of your couch where all your notes were still spread on the floor.

You’d gotten through about four chapters in your review book before you heard a knock at the door. 

Pushing yourself up by your hands, you crossed the length of the apartment to the door. If it was Nico, he was about to be really turned off by how messy you looked.

And once again, it wasn’t him. 

Just like yesterday, something awaited you in front of your door. This time, it was a four cup drink tray filled with different coffees. 

Picking them up off the ground, you walked it back into your home and set it on your kitchen counter. There was a blue sticky note attached to the top in true Nico style, and you were smiling at the familiar handwriting before you even read what it said.

Thought you could use a pick-me-up :)

PS: I didn’t know what you liked, but you’re NOT allowed to drink these all at once

You chuckled at the last sentence. Of course he would send you four different orders because he didn’t know what you wanted. In all honesty, you could survive on just plain black coffee with nothing added if needed, but the fact that he sent you options had your heart swelling. 

You scanned through each cup, reading the labels on each one as they ranged from a standard black coffee to a sweet caramel latte, all of them iced (you had mentioned once that you only drank iced coffee, even in the middle of the winter). It didn’t slip your mind that this was from that expensive shop a few blocks down, the one you could only allow yourself to go to once a month because you knew it would drain you quickly.

Deciding to tease Nico a little bit, you stuck a straw in every single lid. You connected all four straws in the middle and closed your lips over them and took a drink. The resulting taste wasn’t fantastic, but it was worth the funny selfie you took drinking them that you sent to Nico.

You: What was it that I wasn’t allowed to do? Your note wasn’t clear 

Nico: I’m never sending you coffee again

-

On Tuesday, Nico sent you a bouquet of sunflowers. They were massive and bright and you couldn’t see over them as you placed them on the table.

Hope these sunflowers brighten up your day

-

On Wednesday, Nico got back from his short roadie. Maybe it was the constant studying, or maybe it was the little gifts Nico sent you, but your stress levels seemed to calm down as the week went on. There was still the pressure to do well, but every time Nico sent something to you, it was as if everything became a little bit more manageable.

You invited him over to hang out for a little bit, just to thank him for the things he’d done for you. You expected him to stay for a few minutes, maybe a half hour at the most, and then you’d send him home with some cookies you’d baked for him. Instead, he grabbed the plate of cookies and made himself comfortable on your couch.

“You just made these?” He asked with a mouthful of cookie as he picked up a stack of flashcards. You nodded as you took a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

“What’s the therapeutic drug level for theo… theoph…” he began to say, but trailed off, “Never mind. I was trying to help, but I can’t pronounce any of these words.” He ended the sentence with a chuckle before flicking the flashcard over to you.

“The word is theophylline,” you laughed, “and the answer is 10-20 micrograms per deciliter.”

“I understand none of those words, so that probably means it’s right,” he said as he finished his second cookie.

“If you want to help me I know something you can do,” you said eagerly, “And you don’t even have to speak, just sit there and look pretty.”

“That I can do,” he agreed with a nod and sat up to place the cookies on the coffee table. “Where do you want me?”

“Right there is fine. I’m just going to do a standard routine checkup like you’d get at the doctor’s,” you explained, grabbing your small bag of medical tools.

You ran through your procedure, checking your notes periodically to make sure you asked all the questions. Nico had no problem being your puppet, even answering some questions with ridiculous answers.

“And are you sexually active?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked with an eyebrow wiggle. You gave him an unamused glare.

“It’s part of the questions, dumbass,” you rolled your eyes and Nico laughed. “Never mind, I already know the answer anyway.”

“That was one time!” He groaned as he flopped his head back against the cushion. You were obviously referring to the one time you had a run in with one of his hookups. “I haven’t had anyone here since then.”

“Thank god for that,” you muttered, “but she did seem like a nice girl.”

Nico gave you a disbelieving look. You’d ran into them as you were returning from an overnight shift at nearly seven in the morning as Nico was trying to get rid of her, but she was hoping to get another date out of him before she left.

It was an awkward interaction to say the least, and Nico immediately called over to you to get your attention. The girl was displeased because you were interrupting their conversation and also because Nico had used you as an excuse to get out of scheduling another date.

“Oh, Y/N, you still needed me to fix that thing for you, right?” He had asked when he saw you walking down the hall. It took you all of two seconds to process the situation and Nico’s panicked and pleading eyes before you were agreeing. You even threw in the fact that it was urgent and that he needed to help right now, to which the girl gave you an eye roll.

Needless to say, Nico thanked you profusely for saving his ass and never called the girl again. That was over three months ago, and you had yet to see another girl leave his apartment.

“Well, I think I’m done with all the questions,” you concluded finally. “I think it’s safe to say you are in impeccable shape, Mr. Hischier.”

“Is this your subtle way of kicking me out?” He asked.

“Technically, I never invited you to stay. You kind of just sat here and made yourself at home,” you replied.

“I’m sorry for wanting to catch up with my friend after not seeing her in a week,” he joked.

“And you’re going to have to wait another few days for that, bud,” you chuckled.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, “I’ll go, but I’m taking the cookies.”

“They were yours to begin with, idiot.”

-

On Thursday, you received one final package. It was a wrapped box, obviously done by someone who’s never wrapped a gift in their life. 

Opening it, there was Nico’s same scrawl on the familiar blue sticky note.

Something to look forward to after you ace this exam tomorrow!

Underneath the note was a ticket to a Devils game on Sunday against Vancouver, but it wasn’t the only thing in the box. You pulled out a red sweatshirt with the New Jersey Devils logo on the front. There was nothing on the back, but the number ‘13’ could be seen on both sleeves.

The thought of Nico sending you something with his number on it had your cheeks heating instantly. He’d been teasing you about coming to a game, and it seemed you finally had a reason to go now.

-

After you took your exam, it was like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your school days were behind you now, and you could now start your career. The exam results still took six weeks, but you were feeling pretty confident in yourself.

Nico had texted you instructions to wait for him after the game on Sunday. He wanted you to try and meet him somewhere, but your navigation skills were terrible and you were sure to get lost in an arena you’d never been in.

So, you met him outside his car in the parking lot where the team parked.

“There he is,” you called out, clapping, when you saw him exit the arena, “First star of the night with two goals, Captain Nico Hischier!” You gave him your best announcer voice.

“Shut up,” he replied with a chuckle, but his face was beaming with a wide smile.

“Good game tonight,” you said with a smile of your own. “Trying to impress someone?”

By this time, Nico had reached the car, and he was dropping his bag on the ground before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in a hug.

“I’m always trying to impress you,” he mumbled against your hair before he set you back down.

“Well, consider me impressed,” you gushed. 

“I was thinking...” Nico said after a moment.

“Uh oh,” you interjected with a worried look.

“Don’t be a dork,” he chuckled. “I was thinking that instead of going back home and making dinner I can take you out tonight instead.”

“Celebratory dinner for your win?” You questioned.

“And for your exam,” he added, “And also maybe as a date?” Nico said the last part quietly and quickly averted your gaze.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nico?” You asked for clarification, but the smile on your face was spreading wider as the seconds passed.

“Yes, I am,” he said with a deep swallow.

You squinted your eyes, as if in deep contemplation.

“Well, I’ve only been waiting, like, months for you to ask me,” you teased. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” He asked, eyes bright as he reached out to pull you closer to his body. You hummed in agreement and connected your hands behind his neck.

“I was starting to think you’d never get the hint,” you said quietly.

“I was just waiting for the right time,” he insisted, hands resting on your hips, “And if I’m being honest, I really want to kiss you right now.”

You didn’t answer him in words. Instead, you pushed up on your tip-toes and leaned in to connect your lips to his. The kiss was soft, neither of you wanting to push too far too fast. He moved his lips against yours gently, taking his time to convey how he felt about you.

When you finally pulled back to catch your breath, you both had stupid looks on your face as you were both giddy with joy.

“Atta boy, Cap!” A loud voice shouted across the lot along with some hoots, and you let your head fall against Nico’s chest as you chuckled to yourself.

“Fuck off, Jack!” Nico yelled back before dipping his head down to kiss the top of yours. “Ignore him, he’s annoying. Let’s get out of here before they try and come over.”

“Lead the way,” you said, breaking apart so you could climb in his car. 

-

Six weeks later, your results came in.

You let yourself into Nico’s unlocked apartment. Ever since you started dating, it just seemed a lot easier to leave your apartments unlocked during the day so you could easily bounce between places.

“Nico, it’s here!” You exclaimed, spotting him on the couch. He looked up from whatever show he was watching and paused it immediately when he saw the envelope in your hands.

You basically sprinted across the room and plopped down onto his lap before shoving it into his hands.

“You open it, I can’t do it,” you murmured against the side of his head, your arms slinging over his shoulders as one of his arms wrapped around your waist.

Nico chuckled as he ripped open the paper and pulled out the letter.

“What does it say?” You asked, your head tucked into his neck so you couldn’t read the results.

“Babe…” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You asked worriedly, peeling yourself from his neck to read the letter yourself.

Congratulations! You have passed the NCLEX exam!

You didn’t even bother to read the rest of the letter once you’d read those first two sentences.

“You asshole, that wasn’t funny!” You said, pushing his head away from you as he laughed.

“I thought it was kind of funny,” he replied, “And now my girlfriend is officially a sexy nurse.” Nico pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“You better get that idea out of your head right now,” you said warningly, already knowing where his thoughts were headed.

“All jokes aside, I’m proud of you, baby,” he said happily.

“I probably would’ve combusted from stress had it not been for your little gifts,” you admitted.

“What can I say? I was so whipped for you,” he said.

“You really were, weren’t you? The flowers and the sweatshirt with your number on it…” you teased, and he poked your side in retaliation.

“Kidding,” you giggled happily, “and I’m whipped for you, too, Nico.”

[auroreliis]

OMGGG!! Imagine platonic yandere batfam and reader on a vacation at the beach on a privat Island. Would you like to do headcanons/or a scenario (you can decide) of it. Hope you have a good day/night!!

Aaaaa anon <333 We had the same idea <3333 Thank you so much!!!

Perhaps a little late for summer, but inspiration only struck me now!!! <33

Also, I wrote this on like 4 energy drinks so forgive any spelling errors

Also it's not edited or anything...

If reception is positive on this one, I might make a part 2 with the other characters, so let me know if you'd be interested in that :)

Platonic Yandere!Batfamily

Summary: The Batfamily takes you to their private island for summer vacation.

It was just you. Just you and the gently lapping of the waves against the shore. Finally, some alone time. You had to make the most of it, since you were convinced that it wouldn’t last long.

It was about 8 o’clock in the morning. Bruce, Damian and Stephanie had left the island for whatever reason. Dick was either at home or at main beach, looking for you. You had come here about half an hour ago, surely they would’ve noticed your absence and the fact that you had left your phone at home. They were going to chip you eventually, you had come to accept that. However, you certainly enjoyed the time you had away from them whenever they couldn’t find you.

Jason was probably inside the villa. He wasn’t particularly fond of the heat outside. Either that or he’d gone swimming to cool off. Cassandra could’ve been looking for you. Maybe she had already found you.

Instinctively, you looked around. No one was in sight. Then again, she probably wouldn’t let herself be seen anyway.

The shore surrounding the island was wider at the main beach. Here, it was only a few feet wide. Behind you laid a sparse palm forest. Cassandra could certainly hide there. Whatever. You wouldn’t find her anyway. Besides, she would have probably come to talk to you. Probably.

Where would Duke and Tim be? At the villa, right? Where else would they be? Hopefully not looking for you.

Now that you had considered it, you were probably being observed by someone. And if you weren’t, then soon, you would be.

Whatever, just take your mind off it. Think of something else, like…the beautiful beach you’re at. Yes, it is much nicer to think about the gentle breeze. How wonderful. Just you, the beach and the ocean.

You hadn’t ever been at a private beach, so this was a unique experience. All of this belonged to you. Well it actually belonged to your new family, but still, it almost belonged to you.

Your soul nearly left your body at the sound of rustling coming from behind you.

“Hi”, Tim waved nervously after you had spotted him sneaking up on you.

You didn’t feel like answering, so you just turned back to the ocean. Wanting to engage with you somehow, Tim sat down on the sand next to you.

“So…what are you doing here?”, he kept looking at you, but you tried very hard to ignore his gaze.

“Just sitting.”

“Well, I can tell that, but why here? Why not on the main beach? Dick and Jason are scrambling to find you there.”

You had thought that was the case.

“I wanted to be alone.”, you emphasized every word.

He chuckles nervously. That was it. He didn’t say anything. That told you everything you needed to know: He was only here to annoy you.

“How did you even find me?”, you turned to him, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Find you? Oh, I wasn’t looking for you, I just wanted to go somewhere alone. You know, somewhere peaceful”, he turned to the ocean, as though in deep thought,”I get it, you know. You also want to be alone sometimes.”

If he “gets it”, then why is he always right behind you?

“I think you and I have a lot more in common than you think”, he said, crossing his arms on his propped up knees and turning to you.

The audacity to say something like that made you shudder.

“I think you’re full of shit”, you wouldn’t let him think that he’s getting closer to you. You could never like someone like him.

He tried to hide his frown, but you saw right through him,”That’s pretty mean, you know. I’m just trying to connect with you.”

He didn’t say it directly, but you knew his words were a warning. Bruce had talked to you about this. You were allowed to have your opinions about them, but being overly rude was a violation of the rules—rules, which he made up. In other words, if Tim thought you were being mean, then you were being mean. Against this, there would be no arguing.

Well, you know what they say: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

“Ahem, I’m trying to connect with you…”, Tim persisted. You merely pursed your lips and nodded.

Noticing the awkward silence, he spoke again, ”So, will you go swimming?”

You shook your head.

He nodded, “Yes, it isn’t that hot yet, so there’s no need to cool off, I suppose.”

“Well”, he turned to you with a smile, his determination unwavering, “What would you like for breakfast? Alfred already started preparing something. Let’s head back and let him know what you want before he finishes.” But wouldn’t Alfred already know your preference? Perhaps this was Tim’s idea of “bonding”…

Still, his offer seemed tempting, since you hadn’t eaten yet. However, you weren’t jumping at the idea of going back only to place your order with Alfred and then get dragged off to go swimming by either Jason or Dick. Or worse, Tim.

Only now that you felt the hopelessness more intensely, did you begin to question things. Why did Tim always find you first. And how? They didn’t secretly chip you, did they?

…Did they?

Asking them wouldn’t result in an honest answer, so you didn’t really see a point in it. But how else would you figure it out?

You supposed the best person to ask was Bruce—AKA. Dad. He was likely the only person who would answer truthfully…as long as you behaved properly, that is.

“Is dad home yet?”, you turned to Tim, ignoring his previous rambling.

“Oh uh, I’m not sure. Shall we go check together?”, Tim scrambled to use every opportunity he was given, despite being caught off guard.

Perhaps it won’t get any better than this: Mediocre at best.

“Fine, let’s go.”

From the corner of your eye, after Tim grabbed your hand, you saw his smile widen remarkably.

The walk was long and awkward. Your older brother was desperately trying to talk about something, anything, that would catch your interest. Meanwhile, you were silent for the most part.

You had to admit, the villa was quite nice (if only it came without the addition of desperate, touch starved reprobates). Despite having your own room, you were forced to share a room—and often even a bed—with someone, unless you gained Bruce’s special favour for the day.

Luckily, Damian, the person you had to share the room with last night, had left very early in the morning. You weren’t sure how long ago, though, since the letter he’d written to inform you of his absence was…detailed, to say the least. Surely it would’ve taken him more than an hour to even come up with it, let alone write it. What a waster of paper. He didn’t have to say anything at all…

Entering the cool living room made you relax enough to finally engage with Tim, “Um…are Jay and Dick home, or…?”

In respone, he laughed, “Oh, no. I didn’t tell them that you’re with me. They’re probably still looking for you at the main beach. Dick went on about how we shouldn’t let you go anywhere alone in case you drowned or something like that.”

“Wait, what? But I know how to swim! Please tell Bruce that Dick’s rule is unnecessary…I already have enough restrictions, don’t I?” You panicked.

“Well…” He grinned, “That depends on what you’ll do for me in exchange.”

Even sighing was tiring for you at this point, “Fine, I’ll sleep in your room tonight.”

“Until the end of the week, or no deal.”

Holding back a groan, you responded, “Fine, whatever, just…work your magic, okay?” He nodded eagerly.

“Greeting, Masters. Breakfast is almost prepared”, Alfred appeared from the kitchen.

“Hi. Alfred, did you make-”

“Your favourite? Of course I did”, Alfred interrupted.

“…Right.” You should’ve known, to be fair, “Well, when will it be done?”

“When Master Bruce and Master Damian return”

“What about Steph? Isn’t she returning?” If she didn’t return at all, your life would improve considerably.

“Oh, Steph? She wanted to stay in the city for a bit, probably to buy you gifts or something”, Tim responds in Alfred’s stead.

“Gifts…? You don’t think she’ll, you know, make me play dress-up again, right?”, the thought sent a shiver down your spine. In this heat? There was no way you’d wear layers upon layers of clothes just because she was bored. You immediately left the living room, leaving Tim and Alfred behind.

While waiting for everyone to return to eat breakfast, you went and hid somewhere in the villa to avoid social interractions. And hopefully the heat. It was very hot.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Forgotten｡⋆.

Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

To love Bruce was risky and it was exhilarating but you weren’t ready to deal with its consequences when everything suddenly changed.

Warnings: angst, amnesia, injuries, unplanned pregnancy, fluff, i couldn’t help but add bat family shenanigans, hints of smut, scarecrow fear toxin, mentions of self-harm as a result of toxin, hospital visits/health scare, happy endings baby, age difference WC: 7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You knew Bruce Wayne.

You knew the depth of blue in his eyes, the placement of every scar and mole and freckle on his body, the little cowlick at the back of his head that would only appear when he had gone too long without a haircut.

You knew he liked tea but only when he didn’t have meetings, his right shoulder locked up when it was cold and wet, he hated the beach but loved the ocean, he regularly brought home stray animals until he was 12, and he was a hopeless romantic.

And you loved each other deeply, so deeply that you felt like there was no colour in your world before him and he had no light in his before you. It had started out simply enough, you were his secretary. Fresh from your Masters program, you needed a job and he needed a new assistant after the retirement of his last one. You were hired on the spot with the promise that it would only be temporary until you got a job in your field. But that was almost 4 years ago now and you had no intention of leaving the man you had fallen so hard for, he guiltily admitted once that he did not want you to leave either.

There were countless date nights and sleepovers, weekend getaways and times where you would spend the entire day naked in bed. You saw each other almost every day and yet it ached when you were apart for even just a few minutes.

But no one else knew. 

Besides the fact that he was your boss and 10 years older than you, Bruce wanted to shield you both from his life as Batman and from the public eye. And you were terrified of the judgement of his family especially given that there was only a couple of years difference between you and his oldest kid. And it was fine, for a while at least. You got to exist in this perfect little bubble of love with the only man you could envision a future with, away from the harshness of your lives. 

As it must, the real world crashes down upon your little bubble, shattering it.

“Bruce! You have a meeting!” His teeth sunk into the column of your throat with a discontented grunt as he pressed his hips even closer to your own, his arms winding around your plush middle.

“They’re not as important as this.” The tip of his nose brushed against your pulse. You let yourself melt into his strong hold for just a moment, savouring the feel of his toned body against you like you always did when Bruce lathered you with attention. With one last squeeze around your torso, Bruce reluctantly let you go. His huge hands lingered on your wide hips as you shifted so you were now facing him.

“You’ve blown them off three times already, you have to go.” You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing along the 5 o’clock shadow that was already growing along his jaw.

“I’d rather you blow me off instead, sunny.” You smacked his chest as Bruce chuckled.

“Alright rein it in big boy, you’ll get your fill of me soon enough.” 

“I think you’ll find that it’s me that does the filling.” You glared at him and stepped away, making his hands fall from your body.

“Go, before I start to rethink about our ~plans~ for the weekend.” 

“Oh you fucking vixen. If I can sneak away from the boys tonight, you’re gonna be eating those words.” You spun on your heel, letting Bruce get a good look at your ass in the tight work skirt you knew he loved on you.

“I think you’ll find that you’ll be the one who will be eating. I’ll see you tomorrow Mr Wayne.” You cooed, not bothering to look back at him as you left Bruce standing in the middle of the hallway with a stunned expression and a straining in his pants.

——————

You were getting nervous now. You hadn’t seen Bruce in almost a week, which wasn’t unusual considering his ‘nightlife’ but to have no communication from him at all? That was completely out of the ordinary. There had been a message left on your office phone from his butler that Bruce had some business to attend to and would be unreachable for the foreseeable future but the way your stomach twisted in fear told you that something else was going on. He did not, in fact, sneak away that night to see you nor come to your apartment over the weekend as you both had planned. But there was nothing you could do without exposing your relationship.

So, you did what you could to keep WE functioning without him: misdirecting calls, charming impatient board members, even sending phoney emails from his account to placate people as with each passing day, that little spark of anxiety grew into a blazing fire. 

Then, at promptly 9 am on the sixth day of Bruce’s disappearance, your routine was disrupted once more. You were typing away at your computer, having been in the office for almost an hour already, when you heard the elevator doors slide open and the click of men’s formal shoes against the tile. You eyed the bottle of Tylenol on your desk, anticipating yet another headache from some prissy rich boy who couldn’t take no for an answer. But you froze as soon as an imposing figure turned the corner.

Your breath caught at the sight of him. Mostly unharmed, save for the wicked looking cut across his left eyebrow, he was dressed the same way he normally would, but there was something about his posture that was completely wrong.

“Bruce.” Your legs shook as you rose to your feet. His steely gaze flicked to you as he nodded politely, not even missing a beat in his stride.

“Miss Y/L/N.” His office door slammed shut behind him and you felt your heart splinter. Silence washed over the hall and for just a moment, you could almost believe that he had been a hallucination that your anxiety ridden mind had conjured up. The ping of an email notification from your computer broke you out of your desperate reasoning and suddenly you were following his steps.

Your knuckles curled over the steak knob, just as you had done so many times in the past and you pushed open the door. Bruce looked up from the pile of papers that you had left on his own desk over the past week, brandishing you with a look far more harsh than he had ever given you before.

“Bruce, what’s going on? You’ve been gone for days with no calls, no texts. I’ve been worried sick.” His jaw clenched, sending a shot of panic up your spine.

“Miss Y/L/N I don’t know where this feeling of entitlement has come from. What I do with my time is none of your business. I am your boss- not your friend and I would keep that in mind if you wish to keep your job.” He snarled. You physically recoiled as if he had struck you, unconsciously taking a step backwards. “Please refrain from using my first name, this is a place of business.”

Never, in your many years of working for this man, who was now a stranger, did he ever speak to you with such contempt, even hatred. And it broke your heart.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed down tears. “Of course Mr Wayne, I apologise for my unprofessionalism.” He grunted in acknowledgement. Your hands shook as you closed the door to his office, shutting yourself out from the man you loved with every piece of you.

——————

There was no greater torture than this, you thought, to watch as your soulmate iced you out until you couldn’t remember what his warmth had felt like. When was the last time his name slipped past your lips or when yours escaped his. You were forced to see him almost every day and yet, he was more like a ghost to you.

He wouldn’t even speak to you anymore. At first, he kept his interactions with you to a few words in the mornings when he arrived and evenings when he would leave. But as the weeks carried on, he spoke less and less until he would barely even look at you as he passed.

Your chest burned with thousands of questions, each breath laced with the poison of doubt and fear. You wished for this behaviour to be some sick dream, oftentimes you thought that this could be a result of Scarecrow’s fear drug. But when you awoke each morning, you knew, deep down, that this was very real. You could only wonder if this was an inevitable fate that you were meant to suffer for loving someone as unobtainable as Bruce was.

You had known since the very first moment that his blue eyes held something more than friendship for you, that your love for him would always be greater than he would ever hold for you. You knew this, and yet you didn’t think you would have to accept such a devastating truth so soon. You were greedy for him and perhaps, you had taken too much.

“Y/L/N.” The sudden call of your name snapped you from your spiral of self-pity. You looked up and met the bright green eyes of the youngest Wayne. The ever-frowning Damian was now glaring at you, an almost perfect replica of his father. “Where is my father?”

“He’s-“ You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly uncomfortable under the 10 year old’s scrutinising gaze. “He’s in his office. You can go right in.” Damian observed you for another moment before he turned his nose up and walked past you. You breathed a sigh of relief as the door behind you opened and closed, seemingly leaving you alone once more.

“Are you quite alright Miss Y/N?” 

“Jesus!” You yelped in surprise, clutching your chest. The ever present force of Alfred looked down at you, lips pursed in concern. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.” 

“I believe it is I who should be apologising, I didn’t mean to frighten you. But, are you very sure you’re ok? You seem to be out of sorts.” He stepped closer, placing Damian’s jacket on the coat rack just beside the office door.

You waved him off, your throat suddenly thick with emotion. Alfred had always been immensely kind to you in the fleeting encounters you’d had with the man. And for a while, you believed that he knew about you and Bruce, but since he had been acting the same way since Bruce’s unexplained absence, you were obviously wrong. 

With a glance over your shoulder, as if to double check that your boss wasn’t listening in, you grabbed your purse from the floor and quickly slung it over your shoulder. “He doesn’t have any other meetings today so I think I may leave early. It was nice to see you, Alfred.”

And before he could even get a single word of protest out, you had already dashed to the elevator and slipped inside. As the reflective doors shut, you were able to catch the way Alfred frowned, his brown eyes dark as he watched you run.

You managed to hold off your sobs until you were safely in your car. Grief wrapped around your chest like a snake, slowly crushing your ribs inwards until all you could manage was small gasps of air as you slowly drowned in it. It was all getting too much, Bruce and work and this stupid fucking nausea that kept showing up at the worst times.

The stress was going to wear you down until you were nothing and what did you get out of it? A boss that couldn’t even look you in the eye even after years of sharing your life and your bed with him. He was acting like he didn’t even know your first name. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself.

Tears still rolled down your rounded cheeks as the car’s engine turned over and you pulled out of your designated spot. The white paint that they used to write your name was chipping away, leaving a faded imprint of each letter like a child’s chalk drawing that was being washed away.

Your hiccuping sobs were slowly dying down until you pulled into your apartment complex and a notification appeared on your phone. The screen lit up the inside of your car, immediately drawing your attention to it.

‘Your period is 6 weeks late, is it stress or something more?’

——————

Silence in the office was not unusual for the top floor of Wayne Enterprises, though a complete lack of any noise was deeply concerning. Bruce once again glanced over his monitor to the open door where your vacant desk was clearly visible. His eyes flicked to the time displayed on the screen in front of him, you were over a half hour late and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

Just as Bruce was reaching over for his phone, you turned the corner. Your heels, far smaller than you normally wore he noted, clacked against the flooring as you strode towards him. Before you could spot him looking at you, he forced his gaze back down to the spreadsheets he hadn’t even bothered to read when he arrived this morning. His stomach fluttered as he heard you enter his office. Bruce tried to swallow the feeling down like he always did when you were around.

“I’m resigning.” His neck audibly popped as his head snapped up, suddenly all of his attention on you. Your hands trembled as you put a sheet of paper on his desk and quickly took a step back like a deer preparing to run. Bruce kept his eyes on you, the muscle in his jaw rolling as he bit back a thousand questions.

“I’m assuming this is effective immediately?” You nodded while he leaned back in his chair as nonchalantly as he could. “Is there any reason why? I thought you were happy working here.” 

Your left eye twitched but you steeled yourself with a deep breath. “I’m not obligated to tell you the reason why I’m leaving, just as you promised when you hired me. I have responsibilities elsewhere. I left candidates for your next secretary on my desk.” You turned on your heel, intent on leaving as quickly as you possibly could.

“Wait-“ Bruce darted out of his seat, sending it flying back as he rushed forwards. “Please I just want to know why, I think I deserve that much.” His large hand wrapped around your wrist in an iron grip, forcing you to stop your retreat.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that Bruce.” You didn’t even bother to look at him as you spoke. “I really thought you were different. But obviously, I was wrong. You’re so selfish and cruel and I made the mistake of falling in love with you.”

He stumbled back as you finally met his gaze. Your eyes were burning with a loathing that sent a chill to his bones. “So no, you don’t deserve to know why I’m leaving. Be glad I even did you the courtesy of giving you my resignation in writing.” You yanked your hand from his hold. “Goodbye Mr Wayne. Don’t contact me.”

And then you stormed out of his life, leaving the feared Bat of Gotham confused and with a massive pit in his heart.

——————

“Okay, so we agree that this isn’t an invasion of anyone’s privacy, Y/N or B’s, because it’s for the sake of the greater good.” Dick made eye contact with each of his younger siblings as if to reinforce this statement.

“Yeah cause if B doesn’t stop moping around and nagging us, I will actually kill him.” Jason quipped from where he was perched on the fire escape. Cass nodded in agreement from beside the bigger man as Steph snorted under her breath.

“I’m just here for the drama. I’ve never seen him acting like a moody teenager before. Babs wants me to keep her updated.” Dick sighed heavily, deciding to ignore her comment as he continued to address the others.

“We stay hidden and only observe. Got that Damian?” 

“Why am I being singled out when Drake was the one that hacked into her medical records?”

“For the last time, it wasn’t her medical records, it was just her employment records!” 

“Like that’s any better.” Tim glared at Duke.

“You’re the one who snitched.”

“Hey!” Dick stepped in before they could escalate their little squabble, “That doesn’t matter now. What does matter is finding out exactly what happened to make Y/N quit and B so fucking miserable.” 

“Ooo golden boy swore, guess that means it’s serious.” Jason jostled Cass with his shoulder as she giggled quietly. Dick rolled his eyes.

“If you’re not gonna take this seriously, you can just go home.” Red Hood rose to his feet, his gloved hands raised in surrender.

“I am taking this seriously, I just also enjoy annoying you. It’s called multitasking.” 

“Father is fine. I don’t understand why this is necessary.” Damian huffed from his place at Dick’s side. He had been adamant that nothing was wrong with Bruce, even after the increased number of injuries he had been receiving on a nightly basis and a general disinterest in anything besides crime fighting. All the kids knew that it was a problem but Damian got to go on more patrols so he was content.

“Because demon brat, ever since Y/N quit, he’s been in an awful-ass mood and has been making it our problem. I would rather not have the old man keep sticking his nose in my business just because he’s cranky.” 

“And-“ Duke shot Jason a look, “he’s getting extremely reckless. We’ve all seen the amount of med supplies he’s been going through. If we don’t find out what’s going on, he’s gonna end up in a body bag.” Silence fell upon the rooftop. 

We can help both of them. Cass signed. I really liked Y/N. She was nice.

Tim cleared his throat. “So, can we go now? The longer we’re not responding to Alfred, the more chance B comes after us.” Dick put his hand on Damian’s shoulder.

“Tim’s right. We stay low and we stay quiet. Duke, Jay you two go on ahead and we’ll follow behind. Do not engage and don’t be creepy.” He spoke specifically to Jason.

“This whole thing is fucking creepy but fine, I guess I won’t look in her nightstand.” And before Dick could even open his mouth to scold his younger brother, he was gone over the side of the building. Duke shrugged and followed after, his footsteps silent beneath the sounds of the city.

Damian jerked forwards but Nightwing’s grip on his shoulder kept him stuck to the spot. “You’re with Steph. You two keep an ear open for the big man but other than that, stay off the comms. Cass, Tim with me, we’ll cover the street and then come up behind.” Cass nodded and pulled her mask up higher over her nose, following after her older brothers.

“Are you sure about this Dick? If we’re wrong-“

“I know T, but what if we’re right? Something happened between those two and maybe, we can make it right. B isn’t himself and it’s affecting all of us.” Dick then released his youngest brother. “Remember, stay out of sight.” 

As soon as he disappeared into the night, Stephanie muttered. “This is bullshit.”

“I agree.”

Your apartment was easy to find— the 7th floor of a relatively upscale building, one that was suspiciously out of your price range. Jason raised an eyebrow at the double glazed window panes as well as the discreet sill reinforcements he could just make out around the edges of the glass. 

“She’s either extremely paranoid or someone else is.” Duke grunted in agreement.

“Think B is behind it?”

Jason shrugged as he lowered himself down onto the steel grate of the fire escape that snaked past the apartment’s windows. “That or she’s got a hell of a lot more secrets than we thought.” Duke dropped down beside him, the two of them moving in sync along the catwalk. 

The kitchen was dark, as was the living room. Duke’s head jerked to the right, drawing Jason’s eyes to the soft glow coming from the last window. He gently squeezed the shorter man’s shoulder as he slipped past. 

Jason pressed his bulk against the naked brick and crept his way forwards, keeping to the shadows as much as he could. Thin curtains covered the window from the inside, but it did nothing to hinder his view of the brightly lit bedroom. 

You were sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of the room, eyes locked onto a small black and white photo in your right hand. Your left gently cradled your belly, your thumb gently brushing over the soft layer of fat. Even through the haze of the sheer curtains, the sadness on your face was as clear as day.

Jason’s own eyes narrowed in on the image in your hand before he stumbled backwards, almost falling from the fire escape. His neck clicked as his eyes met Signal’s who was suddenly standing ram-rod straight.

“Holy shit she’s pregnant.” But before Duke or Jason could even begin to comprehend the magnitude of their discovery, the bedroom window slammed open and suddenly, you and the Red Hood were face-to-face.

“Do you all want to come in for tea or should I tell you to fuck off now?”

“Huh, I guess she did have some secrets.” You moved out of the way, letting Duke slip into the warm apartment and leaving Jason stunned for only a second before he clicked on his com system.

“Yo, we’ve been caught.” And then he followed behind.

The bedroom was smaller than he thought it would be, but it was cosy. A thick duvet on the bed, a candle on the vanity in the corner. It was… nice. Duke had already made himself comfortable at the kitchen counter by the time Jason stepped out of the bedroom. The thick black and yellow helmet he donned was neatly placed on the chair beside him.

“Dude.” Jason whined but his little brother only smiled at him, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Would you like milk in your tea Jason?” 

“What the fu- goddamnit. Yes and honey too please.” You hummed softly and set the kettle on the stove.

“I take it the same way. Mugs are in the cabinet above the sink, grab them for me. Duke, would you mind opening the front door, I’d rather not have mud tracked into my bedroom.” The teen dutifully stalked off as Jason retrieved said mugs and set them down on the counter. His own helmet soon joined his brother’s as he leaned against the wall across from you.

You continued to fuss about the kitchen, pulling out some biscuits and sugar as well. “It’s Bruce’s isn’t it?” Your body stuttered but you were quickly composed once more, though you did not look Jason’s way.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” He lurched forward as if he were about to defend his adoptive father but then just as suddenly, he leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Jesus. I just thought you got sick of him.” You chuckled under your breath though it was plain enough that there was no joy in it. You looked truly exhausted as you placed a tea bag in each mug, the dark circles that marred your face almost broke Jason’s heart. 

“You’ll find that it’s the other way around.” But before he could open his mouth to object, the rest of his siblings burst into the apartment, led by a frazzled Dick.

“How!” 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t yell in my apartment Richard, I don’t want a noise complaint.” Dick’s jaw shut with an audible click, his shoulders slouching in defeat.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good dog.” Steph cooed as she strutted past, her own mask already off and safely tucked into her belt. She gunned straight for the freshly poured tea. The others shambled around the stunned man, each finding their own spot in your apartment. 

The air was stale with questions that none of them wanted to ask though the answers were obvious. Damian settled himself beside you, the top of his head just barely peeking out over the top of the stone counter. The blank white eyes of his mask were fixed on the steaming mugs.

“This is acceptable.” This time your laugh was genuine as you gently pushed the largest mug towards the 10 year old who quickly snatched it off the counter. Jason noticed the way the tension in your shoulders gradually eased as each of his siblings took their own tea, filling the room with quiet murmurings. 

Dick was the last to approach you. “So you know.”

You nodded and offered him his own cup. “I know. Figured it out pretty soon after I was hired.” 

He gratefully took the mug, letting its warmth seep into his gloved hands as he sank onto a chair from the dining room. You smiled sweetly at him before your attention was pulled away by Steph who interpreted for Cass. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged, the fingers of your left hand brushed against the swell of your belly. “What could I have said ‘hey I know you and your kids dress up in costumes and run around Gotham at night punching people, anyway, can you sign this document?’. Bruce- Mr Wayne and I had an understanding; I don’t mention the whole bat thing and he actually starts doing work and showing up on time. Plus a great health care package.”

“Apparently that wasn’t the only package you were getting.” The words had barely left Jason’s mouth before Cass slapped the back of his head, hard. “Fuck! What was that for?” She gave him a withering look then met your eyes once more with a silent apology.

You smiled at her and continued. “I wouldn’t put it as crassly but yes, we were together. Our anniversary was supposed to be next week.” 

“And now you’re pregnant.” You nodded at Duke.

“I’m 12 weeks as of yesterday.”

Tim cleared his throat but kept his eyes locked on his now empty mug. “There was an incident during patrol a few weeks ago. Bruce got hit with a new serum scarecrow had been developing and- it was really bad. He threw himself at walls and us, screaming about how he needed pain. We were only able to stop him when he knocked himself out on a pipe. He was in really bad shape, when he finally woke up after three days, he couldn’t even remember his own name.

“We all had to come home and essentially re-introduce ourselves to him but he did remember us, some just took longer than others. He recognised Cass as soon as she smiled at him while it took Dick swinging from the chandelier in the dining room for it to click.” Dick’s cheeks warmed in embarrassment.

“I did what I had to do.”

“Tt, you just wished to show off Grayson.” Damian chose to speak up then, making you jump as his voice was far closer than it had been a few minutes before. The youngest Wayne now stood at your hip, barely an inch of space between the two of you. “Father remembered me the quickest.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah definitely, it had nothing to do with you getting upset and throwing a temper tantrum for him to remember.” Damian glared at his older brother but made no move to stray from your side. 

“Anyway.” Tim continued. “After what happened we’ve been trying to help him but-“

“He’s fucking miserable.” Duke interrupted, “He has been since the accident and even more so after you quit. At least hear him out.” Duke leaned forward, planting his elbows onto the kitchen counter. “At least you should tell him about the baby so he could help support you.” His voice strained like he was on the edge of tears.

“Your father doesn’t owe me anything. I was greedy and I took too much. I-“ You choked on your words and suddenly, you were just a heartbroken girl standing in front of them. “I just want peace now so I think it would be best if you all forgot about me, about this. I get that you want to protect your father and under any other circumstance, I would agree with you but even if what you said is true, then why hasn’t he remembered me? We were together for almost four years, and saw each other every day. If he needed to see me to jog his memory or talk to me then that would’ve been solved the day he walked back into the office. He doesn’t want to remember- he doesn’t want me.”

No one spoke until you cleared your throat and turned towards the kitchen sink, your back now to the whole group. “I think you all should leave. Just forget tonight ever happened. We’re not your concern and we certainly aren’t Bruce’s. I appreciate that you all care so much but I don’t think this is something that can be fixed.” 

“But-“ Steph tried.

“Please, go. This hurts enough as it is, don’t make it worse.” 

Dick sighed. “She’s right. Let’s give her some space. C’mon.” You ignored the way their pitying looks burned against the back of your neck as they each walked out the door, donning their masks once more until Dick was the last one in your apartment. “Here’s my number, call if you need anything at all. And I mean anything, even if it’s for stupid cravings. You may think that Bruce abandoned you but I won’t.” 

He gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze before slipping out behind his siblings.

You waited until the door shut to finally cry, not knowing that all the kids could hear you.

——————

“Do you ever want to tell them about us?” Your voice was soft, as if you were whispering a dark secret. Bruce’s heart thumped loudly beneath your ear as you rested on his naked chest. You traced the pale lines of scars that littered his torso, occasionally pressing soft kisses to his overheated skin. 

His large hand cupped the back of your head as he let his lips brush against your crown. “Maybe one day princess. But I want to keep you to myself just a bit longer.” You wanted to protest but the fight was quickly stolen from you as Bruce rolled you onto your back, slotting himself between your plump thighs as you felt him harden once more. “Let me spoil my girl in peace.”  Any protests you had were quickly drowned out as he pulled moans from you. 

Bruce lurched up with a gasp, desperately trying to suck in oxygen as the dream replayed in his mind. It felt so real but there is no way that it could be, he would’ve remembered it by now if it was.

“Fuck.” His ribs screamed in protest at his violent awakening. Even a month after his run in with the Scarecrow, his body was barely recovering and he could feel pieces of his mind that had still yet to fit themselves back into place. 

The blaring green light from the clock on his nightstand told him that he had only been asleep for an hour, an improvement after he recovered from the concussion but still not great. The cold hardwood sent a jolt of alertness up his spine, but did nothing to subdue the torrent of images that flashed in his mind every time he so much as blinked. 

The curve of your shoulder as water droplets ran down your back. 

Bruce rocked his weight forward and stood with a groan.

Your thick thighs wrapped around his hips as he gripped you by the waist and thrust downwards.

He slipped a shirt over his shoulders, and tugged on a pair of sweats as he headed for the door to his bedroom.

Candle light flickering across your face as you cradled him against your chest, his lips branding every inch of skin he could reach.

“What a fucking pervert.” He snarled to himself. All you had ever been was kind to him, and respectful. And yet he was imagining you in his bed. Not only in his bed, some twisted part of his mind coos. His nails bit into his palm as he swallowed thickly.

It started the first day back after his ‘accident’. Bruce vaguely knew who you were, fleeting memories of your job interview and casual conversations at the beginning of the work day. Alfred had told him of your intelligence and hard work but none of his family could recall anything other than a professional relationship between the two of you.

The second he saw you, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wanted to touch you, kiss you, just be in your presence but how could he? You were young, his secretary and you would be in danger if he indulged. And still, you remained.

For weeks, Bruce buried himself in the mystery of you. He needed to know what it was about you that captivated him. Yet none of the information he uncovered gave him answers and you still remained in his dreams. He pushed himself into patrols, into training and work. He had already been on the end of dozens of lectures from Alfred and Dick (and one very strange one from Damian), he kept pushing on.

The cave’s chill sliced through him as Bruce stepped from the elevator and he was greeted by the sight of his oldest and youngest bickering by the huge wall of monitors. He ignored them.

The police scanner was suspiciously silent as he took a seat in front of his workbench. “You shut off the alert system.” His voice was raspy from disuse but it immediately silenced his boys and drew their gaze to him.

“Grayson did it. I was just informing him how irresponsible he’s being.”

“And I was telling Damian that you need a break, desperately.”

“Chum-“

“No. I’m serious Bruce, you’re actively fucking killing yourself and I won’t let you. Jason and Cass are covering your patrols for the foreseeable future and you are staying put. I am sick of this stupid self-destruction rampage you’re going on.” 

Dick��s phone suddenly rang, the default tone echoing around the cave for a moment before he fished it from his pocket and answered. “Grayson.” As the person on the other end spoke, his eyebrows scrunched and his jaw tightened.

“Which hospital are they taking you to? Ok, I’ll meet you there, just keep breathing, everything's going to be fine.” The line went dead. Dick regarded his father with a look. “I have to go but this is not the end of this conversation.” Before he could take a step towards the exit, Damian grabbed his brother’s hand.

“Is Y/N hurt?” There were moments like this where Dick cursed the fact that his little brother was so observant. He could see Bruce sit up, his focus no longer on the work in front of him. 

“She’s fine, just a little scared but she’ll be alright.”

Then Damian did something so dumb, Dick knew that it was on purpose. “Is the baby ok?” 

There was a beat, then another as he waited on his father’s reaction. Damian had already tried to jog his memory on the topic of you but nothing ever worked and he only succeeded in pissing off his siblings who tried to get him to understand that it wasn’t his decision to make. “The baby?” Bruce whispered like the air had just been knocked from his lungs.

Dick’s temples pulsed with the beginning of a migraine and he glowered at the young boy. “The baby is fine, they’re gonna run some tests. You stay here and we’re going to have a very long talk when I get back.”

“Y/N’s pregnant?” He ignored his father and instead shook off Damian before he jogged to the elevator. So instead Bruce looked to the boy that stood alone in front of the wall of glowing monitors. “Is-is the baby-“

“It appears as though I won’t be the youngest any longer. If you run, you could catch up.” 

Bruce’s stomach dropped. “I-“

Damian glared at him. “Go.”

——————

“I’m only taking you because I think that you’re still listed as her emergency contact so I need you in order to visit.” Bruce nodded solemnly as Dick pulled into a parking spot in the hospital garage. “You will not talk to her, you won’t even fucking look at her.” He took his father’s silence as agreement.

The powerful engine cut off and without another word, he stepped from the car, expecting Bruce to follow behind. Bruce had always hated hospitals, the air too stale from all the cleaning chemicals they used, the silence, the blinding lights. But if you were here, he would spend the rest of his life on the uncomfortable waiting room chairs just to make sure you were safe.

“I’m here to see Y/N Y/L/N, she called me from the ambulance.” The older nurse at the check-in desk raised her eyebrow at the pair.

“She’s in room 335. Down the hall, third door on your right.”

“Thank you.” Bruce trailed along behind his son, the questions in his mind building up higher and higher with each step he took. But all he could concentrate on was if you were ok.

Dick gave him a warning look as they reached the room. “It’s me, can I come in?” There was a muffled response and then Dick slipped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him. 

The hall was now only filled with the beeping machines from other rooms and the occasional call over the pa system, leaving nothing to distract Bruce from the fear that curled around his heart. He knew what he was going to do was a bad idea, one that could have the potential to destroy not only any redemption with you but might fracture the already tumultuous relationship he had with his son.

But he had to see you, just once.

As quietly as he could, Bruce grabbed the door handle and slowly pushed his way in, praying that the hinges didn’t squeak. 

“I’m ok, I just got a bit dizzy and fell down like 1 step. I think the ambulance was totally unnecessary.”

Dick shook his head. “Will you just let someone take care of you for once?”

You chuckled softly and took his hand in such a maternal fashion, it made Bruce’s heart lurch in his chest. “I called, didn't I?”

The door swung fully open, hitting the wall behind with a resounding thud. Both your attentions snapped to Bruce.

You sat up in bed on the opposite side of the room, dressed in a flimsy hospital gown and illuminated by harsh lights but you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Your fading smile was tired and your eyes bloodshot from crying and Bruce realised that you were comforting Dick, not the other way around. He hadn’t seen you smile in so long.

“Why is he here?” You hissed and visibly curled in on yourself, arms around your stomach. 

“Bruce-“

“I know you.”

He knew each dip and bump and curve of your soft body, the colour of your eyes in the sun and how different they were under fluorescent lights, which hairstyle you wore indicating what mood you were in.

He knew your insecurities and your trauma, you hated humidity but didn’t mind the heat, the names of all your plants, and the way you would smile just a bit brighter and just a bit wider when children or animals were around.

He knew you loved him.

Bruce Wayne knew he loved you.

“I-I know you.” His voice shook as he took a step towards you yet this time, you didn’t flinch away. “Sunny. My sun. My light.” 

“Bruce.” A tear rolled down your cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” He fell to his knees beside you, his head bowed. “I’m sorry my love. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t- Why couldn’t I remember?” He sobbed.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Your fingers, your perfect delicate fingers, brushed away his tears before you gently cupped his cheeks, lifting his gaze back up to meet yours. 

“I was so horrible to you, I didn’t know. And you’re- god you’re pregnant.” His hands slid up the side of the bed, cupping your thigh over the scratchy hospital blankets. You nodded and guided them higher so his palms spread over your growing stomach. “Wow I guess I really did do the filling huh?”

“Oh god, ‘m gonna throw up.” 

You laughed as Bruce bashfully looked over at his son. “Sorry chum.”

“I’m gonna go get some coffee, by the time I get back, you two better be fully dressed.” Your lips snapped shut as you looked away in embarrassment and it was Bruce’s turn to chuckle.

“Sunny, I’m so sorry, you deserved so much better.” 

“Will you stop that? I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“But it still hurt you and I made a promise to never do that. So please, let me grovel.” He laid his head onto your thigh while you threaded your fingers into his hair.

“What made you remember?”

“Your smile. I realised that I would always remember your smile and then everything came flooding back.”

“You’re a fucking sap you know that.” You tugged on his hair but Bruce just smiled dumbly at you before he smirked.

“Marry me.”

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[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

-

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

-

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

-

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

-

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."