#forced proximity

[mlqueen89]

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life  

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |  

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).    

word count: 9,776 

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.  

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service. 

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥  

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.     

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”  

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.  

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”  

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.  

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.   

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.  

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.  

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake. 

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes. 

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”  

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.” 

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.  

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”  

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”    

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”  

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”  

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”  

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.  

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?  

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.  

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.  

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told. 

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.  

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work. 

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas. 

“It doesn’t.” 

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan. 

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”  

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”  

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.” 

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?” 

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.” 

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to. 

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close. 

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”  

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?” 

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”  

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?” 

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”  

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.  

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them. 

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink. 

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.” 

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?” 

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.” 

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.” 

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.” 

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.” 

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level. 

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.” 

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.” 

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.   

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”  

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”  

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—” 

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?” 

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004 

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt. 

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left. 

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base. 

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.  

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.  

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him. 

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”  

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”  

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.  

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”  

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.  

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”  

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.  

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad. 

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”  

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”  

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”  

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”  

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”  

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.” 

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.   

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”  

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.  

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.” 

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.” 

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.” 

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign. 

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.  

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.  

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”  

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.  

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.  

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.  

“Need a hand?”  

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.  

Hangman. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.   

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely. 

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment. 

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.” 

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—” 

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?” 

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups? 

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.” 

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.  

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”  

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”    

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.  

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good. 

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.” 

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact. 

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.” 

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her. 

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.” 

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door. 

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week. 

“305.” 

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing. 

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.  

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door. 

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke. 

“Hey, Rio.”  

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.  

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere. 

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick. 

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”  

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.” 

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.  

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.” 

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.” 

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”  

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?” 

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.” 

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade. 

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy. 

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.  

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between. 

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.” 

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.  

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.  

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.” 

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side. 

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.” 

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….” 

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead. 

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.” 

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?” 

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?” 

“You know me, Mav—news is news.” 

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm. 

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”   

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.” 

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”  

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type. 

And there it was: the other shoe. 

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?” 

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.” 

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.” 

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.” 

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.” 

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.” 

“Thanks.” 

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.” 

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying. 

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.” 

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden. 

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime. 

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign. 

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh. 

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best. 

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. 

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together. 

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug. 

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions. 

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”  

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”  

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”  

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.  

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O. 

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again. 

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.  

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”  

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”  

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner. 

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter. 

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day. 

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?” 

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.” 

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,” 

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”  

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.” 

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad. 

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?” 

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?” 

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?” 

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.” 

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”  

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.” 

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm. 

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.” 

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.” 

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.” 

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @Khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

[runariya]

Masterlist • Off The Market

coming soon…

summary: Due to a bizarre clerical error, you and Jungkook find yourselves legally married after what was supposed to be a routine business deal signing. Instead of fixing it right away, Jungkook convinces you to "sEe WhErE tHiS gOeS" especially since the press already got hold of the story. pairing: CEO!Jungkook x rival CEO!female reader genre: rom-com, rivals 2 lovers, "forced" marriage, forced proximity, slow-burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: strong language, slow burn, angst, alcohol consumption, fluff, jealousy, possessiveness, a bit of obsession, explicit sexual content, dom!JK, sub!reader, pls check each part for specific warnings! total word count: tba

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

1 • „This is just business.“

2 • „People are eating this up.“

3 •  „I’m not putting a shirt on.“

4 • „At least pretend.“

5 • „They’ve been waiting for this moment for years, so don’t fuck up.“

6 • „I’ll touch you how the fuck I want.“

7 • „This could be us, darling.“

8 • „Of course I care.“

9 • „Kneel.“

10 • „Don’t embarrass me.“

11 • „Starting something you can’t finish?“

12 • „Surprise.“

13 • „Why are you always pushing me away?“

14 • „Knight in shining armour, no?“ 

15 • „Is it so hard to trust me?!“

16 • „Of course you do.“

17 • „Perfect lil hubby.“

18 • „You’ve never been the cold one.“

19 • „You could’ve fooled me.“

20 • „Keep crossing the line.“

21 • „You’re mine.“

22 • „You think I don’t notice?“

23 • „Look closely, wifey.“

24 • „What if this was real?“

25 • „You can’t keep running from me.“

26 • „Tell me you don’t care.“

27 • „Are you jealous?“

28 • „What if I’m missing you?“

29 • „Take him, I don’t care.“

30 • „Clock’s ticking.“

31 • „The most beautiful woman in my life.“

32 • „Are you gonna leave?“

33 • „This wasn’t supposed to happen?“

34 • „I can’t lose you.“

35 • „You don’t get to decide how I feel.“

36 • „I do.“

37 • „It’s us.“

Bonus

All Rights Reserved © @runariya 2024

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say. 

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you. 

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them. 

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was. 

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for. 

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up. 

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with; 

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway. 

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that. 

But he still had questions. 

Unanswered questions. 

Like who the hell were you? 

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again. 

In the kitchens. 

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad. 

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies. 

And somehow

It was relaxing to him. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you. 

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.” 

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers. 

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove. 

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink. 

And he did. 

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out. 

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea. 

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy. 

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish. 

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear. 

Then he jerked up. 

With a grunt, he looked around him. 

He was in his room. 

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen. 

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination. 

The Professor’s office. 

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm. 

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?” 

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office. 

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him. 

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door. 

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had. 

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you. 

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with. 

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you. 

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things. 

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears. 

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence. 

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it. 

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness. 

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again. 

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep. 

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it. 

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt. 

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did. 

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you. 

More so, when he saw your shoulder. 

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up. 

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night. 

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked. 

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked. 

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it. 

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa. 

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas. 

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed. 

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor. 

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you. 

Fast asleep. 

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you. 

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point. 

Hell, even he needed sleep. 

But you were just constantly forever going. 

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second. 

You were fast asleep. 

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while. 

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision. 

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up. 

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again. 

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for. 

A heavy blanket. 

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace. 

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered. 

He turned around but you were still. 

Then you whimpered again. 

“No,” you whispered. 

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again. 

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away. 

Except you reached out for his hand. 

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep. 

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream. 

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out. 

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room. 

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor. 

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him. 

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly. 

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching. 

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?” 

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened. 

And glowed. 

They were still your eyes just…brighter. 

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again. 

Then everything stopped. 

Everything went silent. 

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved. 

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,” 

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare. 

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face. 

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him. 

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling. 

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest. 

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand. 

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged. 

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed. 

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever. 

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget. 

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going. 

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed. 

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile. 

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands. 

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him. 

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile. 

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him. 

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea. 

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist. 

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing. 

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep. 

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months. 

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room. 

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed. 

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him. 

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time. 

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter. 

Because Logan already knew. 

And so did you. 

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him. 

[inazumass]

Animal Attraction - Laios x Beastman!Reader

No beta read this time, but I might add other chapters of this for f/m/ftm reader in the future on AO3 if there's enough interest for it. I try to make my smut as inclusive as possible but sometimes it takes away from the descriptors, y'know? Let me know what you think! https://archiveofourown.org/works/56591389

TAGS/Warnings: NSFW, Smut with Plot, Gender Neutral Reader, No Use of Y/N, Mild Themes of Forced Proximity/One Bed Trope (Kinda), Huddle For Warmth, Penetration, Gender Neutral Anatomy, Second Person Perspective/Freeform, Beastman/Beastkin Reader/Doglike Reader, Comfort, No Pet Names, Enthusiastic Consent, No use of protection don't be like Chilchuck, y'all

Word Count: 11.9k

As always, Minors DNI

Shadows stretched long across the wooden floor of the old bedroom where Laios sat in his bed for the night. This floor was quiet now but if anyone paused to listen they would be able to hear all the creatures off in the distance as they stalked their way through the dungeon. Their various calls and cries echoed off the far away walls of the vast cavern surrounding the ruins. 

It was cool here now, the crisp night air swirling through the alleyways and rustling the curtains. If it weren’t for the view out the window of the ruined structures littering the cave the old town was situated in, it might have been easy for anyone to convince themselves that they were in any regular old inn on the surface. 

There were few usable rooms left in the building now though, and the party had to make do with the last three decent rooms on the third floor. Not that anyone seemed to mind much… hell, most were grateful for a proper bed to sleep on for the first time in days. 

Down the hall Laios could hear the sounds of his party mates getting settled in for the night, their muffled speech unintelligible through the thick stone walls. He had settled into his bed, unfurling his bedroll over the old linen sheets as he stole glances at the newest member of their ragtag group.

He tried hard not to stare, but his gaze kept flickering up to the soft ears perched atop your head.

By now he’d known well enough not to question Izutsumi on her state after much scolding from the others and the sharp sting of her claws whenever she would get fed up with his pestering. Yet you were so vastly different in comparison to the sharper features of the party’s youngest member; your sharper more wolf-like features juxtaposed with the softer body of a human, the perfect fusion of man and beast. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like… he’d always fantasised, albeit not so secretly about what it might be like to have more animalistic features, were you more monster or more human? His thoughts were cut off quickly when your eyes flicked over to him, feeling his eyes on your back. Your ears flicked in mild annoyance, not exactly fond of the intrusive gaze.

“What are you staring at?” You sighed, all too used to the way people would size you up. The questions, the fear, the judgement.

“Your ears look so soft.” The blond smiled sheepishly as the words slipped out of his mouth without much thought. 

The sincerity of his gaze caught you by surprise, unsure how to respond as you stared back at him. You blinked slowly, momentarily thrown off by his unexpected offhand comment. He seemed genuine, his eyes holding a warmth that contrasted sharply with the usual wariness you encountered from other tallmen. After a beat of silence, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"They're just ears," You replied, your tone light but tinged with a hint of amusement as your ears perked back up, "But thanks, I guess?"

He chuckled softly in return, a sheepish grin still playing on his lips. "Sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say, huh?" Laios asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked down at his lap.

"It's... different," you admitted, offering him a nonchalant shrug. "But different can be nice.” You said finally, earning another smile from the tallman.

His sheepish grin widened into a relieved smile at your response, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he let out a quiet sigh. "I'm glad you think so," Laios replied, amber eyes still avoiding your gaze. He knew if he looked back up he wouldn’t be able to resist staring a little longer. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile of your own. "No need to worry about it. It's refreshing, honestly." You replied, sitting back against the old wooden headboard. Perhaps you had been wary of him for no reason, though you hadn’t fully dropped your defences around the group despite your curiosity about the knight. They had all been gracious enough to take you in when you were too injured to carry on alone.

You were certain if they hadn’t wandered by when they did you would have been doomed on your own. Now, you thought, you would be forever indebted to them for their kindness. That being said, you couldn’t help but feel out of place regardless of their continued kindness.

 “I’m sorry... I guess I was just expecting you to say something else.” You admitted. A sigh pushed past your lips as you hugged your knees, uneasy at even the smallest bit of vulnerability you’d shown him with your vague explanation.

Though he wasn’t the best at reading the emotions of others, he could see the way you curled in on yourself as if protecting something, your ears drooping against your head. It reminded him of the strays he would see back home, wounded, exposed…

His voice was gentle as he spoke, his gaze lifting to look you in the eyes as he searched for the right words. “I’ve heard stories of beastmen before… but you and Izutsumi are way cooler than any of them.” Laios affirmed, earning a little snort of laughter from you. “Seriously! Half tallman and half wolf, that’s… incredible!” He exclaimed.

You wanted to disagree, but something about the way his eyes lit up when he spoke had you believing it too. After all, no ordinary tallman could do what you could. Even so, you found yourself shifting in discomfort under his gaze. You had always been acutely aware of the implications of your existence, created from black magic… an abomination, a monster. 

Even now that you’d finally met someone like you, someone who couldn’t shift the way others in similar circumstances could, she was nothing like you. Though you suspected Izutsumi more than tolerated you from the way she would curl up between you and Marcille when she slept... half the time she complained that you reeked of dog smell, that you were noisy, and so on. You were nowhere near as agile as she was. Your form held little to be proud of; sharp teeth and claws, patches of fur scattered across your body. Both on the surface and deep within the dungeons black magic and all of its creations were things to be feared, reviled.

"Most people see me as a monster," you admitted bitterly, looking away from him as you hugged your knees a little tighter.

Laios’ brow furrowed slightly as he watched you retreat back into your shell. A monster? He wasn’t entirely certain what had compelled him to say what he said next, but the words came out regardless. “So what?” He frowned, his tone capturing your attention once more even if it was mostly due to the shock of hearing him speak like that. “Who cares what anyone else thinks?"  

The question was rhetorical and you knew that, yet you opened your mouth to speak anyways. The protests died on your lips before they could form entirely as he cut you off. “Their misconceptions about you aren’t going to change who you are.” The knight said firmly as he looked deep into your eyes, the intimacy of his earnest gaze causing you to look away again. 

Laios’ words echoed in your mind, resonating with a quiet strength that you couldn't ignore. You were silent for a long moment. Something about the way he spoke so confidently on the matter had you suspicious that he’d had to tell himself the same thing once or twice. "You're right," you replied, a newfound resolve coursing through your veins as you felt that unfamiliar spark of understanding for the first time in years. "Who cares what anyone else thinks?" You repeated.

For too long, you’d allowed the judgement and scorn of others to dictate your actions, to shape your perception of yourself. While it would take time to internalise it properly and truly digest the sentiment behind his words of encouragement, you felt a bit more steady for the time being. For now you would forge your own path alongside his party.

"Thank you," you said softly, meeting the knight's gaze with a grateful smile. 

“Of course.” He replied, laying back against his bed roll and looking up at the ceiling. He was torn now, frustration and mild jealousy gnashing their ugly teeth and gnawing at the back of his mind. Jealousy because he’d always dreamt of what it might be like to be a werewolf or something of the sort, frustration because others couldn’t see how amazing you and the other beastmen truly were beyond your respective abilities in the arenas. Questions swirled in his mind and died in his throat, even Laios knew that now wasn’t the time to ask. Beastman status aside, it irked him that you’d been made to feel that way about yourself.

You had laid down on your own bed before stealing another glance at him. Even in the faint glow that illuminated the room you could see the way his brow furrowed as he stared up at the vaulted ceiling, the mild tension in his jaw. 

“You look like you have something else to say.” 

He hesitated, his words caught in his throat… You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him and whatever he seemed to be wrestling with in that moment. Despite the barriers that separated you… you shared a common struggle, not just on this mission but in life as a whole. You understood that now.

Laios hesitated, uncertain of how his thoughts would be received. "I do," he admitted. "But it's... complicated."

“Try me,” you replied, rolling over so you could face him properly.

Laios hesitated again, his gaze drifting back to the ceiling as he weighed the words in his mind. Even in the short few days you’d been with the group he knew you well enough to know that you deserved to hear what he said next.  "It's just... sometimes I can't help but feel a little... envious," he admitted, self-consciousness flooding into his senses as he spoke the words aloud. A part of him expected you to snap at him for saying something like that after he heard the way his words hung in the open air.

You didn't though, instead you just cocked your head slightly, curiosity piqued by his confession. "Envious? Of what?" He couldn't have meant what you thought he did. You were cursed. Even with the enhanced senses, your strength, your speed… the weight of the isolation had always felt heavier.

A faint blush coloured Laios' cheeks as he met your gaze, a sheepish smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Of you, actually," he confessed, his tone laced with a mix of admiration and embarrassment. "I mean, you're so... unique. You’ve got the best of both traits, you’re strong, you’re fast… you’re a skilled strategist, your sense of smell is unparalleled and… I can always tell when you’re happy because your tail wags even when you’re trying to be serious.” He looked back up and away from you once again as he realised he couldn’t stop the words from spilling past his lips, scratching the itch in his brain. 

“I know it’s only reasonable for people to be wary of the unfamiliar, it’s in our nature to want to keep ourselves safe from something that could be perceived as a threat. It’s the one thing we living creatures all have in common. But it’s just frustrating, because…”  Because you’re like me. Laios wanted to stop himself from saying what came out next, but he couldn’t help it. "...because sometimes it feels like no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we'll always be seen as outsiders," There was a resigned look on his face now, despite the bitterness of the frustration replacing his usual upbeat tone. "Like we're destined to be misunderstood, judged solely by the circumstances of our existence."

You swallowed hard, looking back up at the ceiling with him as his rant struck something within you. His words stung with that all too familiar ache of rejection. There was another beat of silence that passed between the two of you as the weight of his sentiment settled in.

“I know what you mean,” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. This time it was your turn to snap him out of it. “But you know what? Despite it all, we're still here. And that counts for something, doesn't it?"

He didn’t seem convinced, but you could see the way the tension started to leave his body when he finally rolled over to face you from across the room. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Laios replied, the ghost of a halfhearted smile on his pink lips. 

The two of you looked at each other in silence for a long moment, a silent understanding passing between the two of you in the night. It had been a long time since you’d had the liberty to have a conversation like this. Open, honest, vulnerable under the cover of the night, tucked away somewhere quiet...

“Thank you,” you couldn’t help but say it again, something about the heavy conversation seemed to lighten the invisible load on your shoulders. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a conversation like this.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he gave a slight bob of his head in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's nice to just... talk."

As the conversation continued to flow between you, the initial tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of ease and comfort. Though you both knew that you should have been sleeping, found yourself drawn to his company, his honesty and blunt nature was refreshing. As the evening wore on, bathed in the gentle glow of the flickering candles and soft hum of conversation, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having met the tallman.

You could feel the gentle caress of the breeze as it snuck through the open window, teasing the flames of the candles and sending shadows dancing across the stone walls of the old room. The soft light illuminated the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to envelop you both in its soothing embrace.

Neither of you were certain when you’d drifted off to sleep, the orange glow of the candles having been extinguished long before you’d woken up again. 

As your eyes fluttered open they struggled momentarily to adjust to the darkness surrounding your bed. With the old shutters closed and the candles extinguished it was near impossible to see at first but as your eyes adjusted your enhanced night vision came in handy. All was silent inside now, the rest of your party mates likely fast asleep… the only sounds were the frenzied rushing of the wind against the building and Laios’ light snores in the bed across from you. Even beneath the cover of your sleeping bag, you could feel the cold seeping into your bones. The tufts of fur that littered your body seemed to stand on end in the darkness, prominent goosebumps prickling across your skin 

Something was off, it was colder now. Too cold. You reached out across the gap between your beds, gently shaking Laios's shoulder. His skin was cool to the touch and you couldn’t help but notice the way he was shivering in his sleep. 

“Laios,” you whispered urgently, “wake up.” 

He stirred, breathing slow and heavy. He let out a soft groan as he blinked his eyes open, mirroring your earlier struggle to adjust to the darkness in the room now as his amber eyes searched for you in the blackness. '”What’s going on?” he murmured.

“It’s freezing… something’s wrong.” You explained, tugging your sleeping bag closer around you as if to further prove your point.

“It’s probably just the dungeon’s terrain shifting again,” he replied calmly, rubbing his eyes while his body settled back into consciousness.

A shiver rippled through his body as the chill settled in. This isn’t good, he thought to himself, trying to calculate the situation at hand through the fog of his lingering sleep. Each of the rooms had shuttered windows, so it was likely that the others were fine as well. Considering the rushing sound of the air currents outside it would be safe to assume that there was a significant risk for frostbite out there if left exposed. Staying inside the abandoned structure was certainly the better alternative… but without some sort of external heat source your muscles would easily become stiff and painful at this temperature before long. 

Laios huffed, his breath just barely visible in the dark. So that was it then. He glanced back over to you then, watching as you struggled to properly cocoon yourself in your sleeping bag to stave off the cold for just a little longer.

“We’ll be alright,” He said tenderly with a reassuring smile.

“I’m freezing, and you’re still shivering.” You groaned, clenching your jaw as you tried to keep your teeth from chattering.

He swallowed hard, weighing his options in his mind once more as he considered what he was about to say before he took a deep breath. “We should probably huddle together for warmth then.” Laios said solemnly. In an attempt to calm his racing heart he continued quickly: “Shivering all night in our sleep won’t help with the fatigue, right now our muscles are expanding and contracting really fast to try and generate warmth to compensate for the-”

“Okay,” you interrupted, too tired to keep up with his fast paced facts. 

As you swung your legs off the side of your bed he hesitated before sliding over to make room for you, watching in mild amusement as you shuffled your way across the gap in your sleeping bag before flopping down next to him in the bed. For once he was at a loss for words, not expecting you to take the opportunity so quickly, though he supposed it made sense. Even though you looked more human than beast, he supposed wolves were pack animals, used to close proximity with other members of their pack. Although- he interrupted himself in his mind, that would be dependent upon the particular species of wolf you’d been - his thoughts were quickly interrupted by the groaning of the old wood frame supporting your bodies as it creaked in protest against the added weight before settling again.

This was better, his warmth next to you helping to warm you ever so slightly, but you could still feel the sting of the cold as you laid next to him in your sleeping bag, struggling to get comfortable. Laios found himself hesitating again, although he couldn’t place exactly why. It wasn’t as if he’d never slept in close proximity to someone else. Hell, on this journey alone he’d spent countless nights sandwiched between other members of his party as they slept. 

You didn’t seem to have a problem with it as you squeezed in next to him, but he could still see the way you shivered as you tried to get settled.

“It would, uh… probably be more effective if we combined our body heat.” He muttered, swallowing the lump in his throat once more as he looked away from you. 

Silence stretched out between you for what felt like forever as he felt the familiar claws of self doubt scraping at the back of his mind. He was thankful when you finally put him out of his misery, shooting him an awkward little smile as you spoke: “Yeah, that makes sense… I’m alright with it if you are.”

He nodded firmly, still avoiding your gaze as he helped you get tucked in beneath his sleeping bag. If you noticed the shift in his energy, you didn’t show it as you cuddled up next to him, pressing your back into his side beneath the covers. Laios tried to remain calm as he laid your now empty sleeping bag overtop of his, adding extra insulation for the both of you. The wind whistled outside, the shutters stirring as cold seeped its way in through the cracks in the wood. You were grateful now for the additional heat, it sounded like the storm outside was picking up. 

The tallman let out a sigh, his breath a cloud of fog as he listened to the intensity of the wind outside. He sat up to tuck the edges of the sleeping bag beneath the two of you, ensuring that the cold couldn’t slither in between the two of you. He glanced over at you then in the dark, your soft features just barely visible in the dim light leaking in from the slits in the shutters. A little smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched your ears twitch against the pillow. You looked so comfortable, cute even. 

He pushed the thought aside as he laid back down beside you, his arm resting on the pillow above your head as he attempted to give you a little bit of space.

“I’m glad we found this place,” He commented, his voice a soft murmur above the sound of the rushing wind outside. Despite the chill, the room was calm in comparison to the storm outside. “We’re lucky we didn’t get caught out in that.”

“Mhm…” You hummed in response, already close to falling asleep as you nuzzled against his arm with a sigh.

Laios’ cheeks turned a deeper shade of red beneath the cover of darkness. He could already feel his heart rate picking up again and something about the way he couldn't take his eyes off you suggested it was due to much more than the cold. Here he could feel the way the soft fur of your ears tickled his arm, your bushy tail laid comfortably across his hips. It took every ounce of willpower in his body not to reach out and stroke the soft fur there, wanting to know exactly how the sleek fluff would feel against the roughened skin of his palms. He watched for a moment as your breathing slowed and evened out, realising it would probably be weird of him to watch you sleep. 

So instead he shut his eyes and tried to will his body to follow suit, to relax his stiffened muscles and calm the steady hammering in his chest. You grumbled softly as he tried to pull his arm away to readjust, gripping his forearm lightly as you pulled it back beneath your head. He winced internally. He was trapped now, he didn’t want to fall asleep on his back but would it be weird if he slept facing you? 

It would probably do a better job of keeping you both warm, sure, but why was it so difficult to just go ahead and roll over? His limbs felt heavy, would it be weird if he put his arm around you? If someone walked in would it cause some kind of misunderstanding? He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with a lecture from Chilchuck on the importance of professionalism in the workplace. 

He lost himself in his thoughts again until he felt another shiver run down across your body. Poor thing, he thought, how were you still cold? He felt like he was burning up but if the cheek pressed against his arm was any indication of your overall body temperature you were still freezing. 

With a sigh he gave in and wrapped his other arm around your waist, maintaining a respectful distance from any of the more intimate areas of your body. 

You relaxed instantly into the touch, pressing back against him and pulling his arms a little closer as you seeked out the warmth. He tried hard not to look at you then, honey coloured eyes searching the ceiling in the darkness once again before he ultimately gave up and tried to close them once again.

It took some time for him to finally settle down enough to start falling asleep again, only to be interrupted by the way your tail started to wag in your sleep. At first he thought it was cute, wondering about what kind of dream you must have been having at that moment. It had to be something good. He’d always wondered what it was his childhood dogs had dreamed about when he caught their tails thumping against the ground where they slept. Briefly, he wondered if it would be rude to ask you in the morning. That was, until you shifted slightly in your sleep and it started to brush against him instead of the bed.

Laios sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth as your appendage brushed against the front of his trousers. He tried to shift his hips away from you only to earn a little groan of protest as he tried to move.

“H-hey, careful where you’re moving that.” He whispered, shakily. 

It was almost shameful how quickly that little motion had him worked up. Having spent so long traversing the dungeon with multiple people in close proximity to monsters… it wasn’t like he had a lot of time to himself. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he tried to squirm away, only for you to grumble and push back against him in your sleep, tail still swishing lightly against his hips. If you didn’t stop soon he might blow a gasket trying to explain the growing bulge pressing into the soft fat of your ass if you woke up, or die of embarrassment, whichever came first.

“C-cut it out.” He hissed, the arm around your waist shifting so he could grip the base of your tail and stop it from rubbing against him further.

The pressure earned a low moan from you in your sleep and he immediately tensed up and froze.

“Ngh… Laios?” You muttered, voice husky with exhaustion as you came to once again.

Shit. His heart leaped in his chest as you began to stir. By now he could hear the rush of his heartbeat hammering away in his chest like the steady beat of a drum. He released his grip on the tail, too embarrassed now to fawn over how soft the fur was there. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m still here” He whispered, his throat dry as he let out another quivering breath. He stayed still then, trying to will you to go back to sleep with his mind so he could turn away and continue to ignore his growing problem in peace.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled groggily. Even in your half-asleep state, you caught the tremor in his voice. Though you sensed no immediate danger, the wobble in his tone set you on edge. Turning to face him, you inadvertently brushed against him once more.

The moment the soft fur brushed against him again, he couldn't help but twitch as another wave of heat surged through his body. It was all too much, the close proximity and now your warm breaths fanning across his chest, it was too intense. His eyes searched the room in the darkness, avoiding your gaze as he searched for any sort of distraction to calm himself down before you noticed. Sure, it was a natural biological reaction to external stimuli but no amount of logic could spare him the shame that washed over him as he wondered what you might think of him. Your voice ripped him from his spiral once more as you repeated his name. 

Those two syllables had no right to get him as worked up as they did. Your tired voice sending another shiver down his spine as he swallowed nervously. Had his name always sounded that good on your lips?

“Laios?” You repeated, completely oblivious to his predicament until you shifted again and felt the bulge pressing into your thigh.

He winced, bracing himself for whatever it was that might come out of your mouth next. The blond prayed silently to whatever benevolent deity above might listen that you hadn’t noticed anything and he might be able to talk his way out of this somehow and turn away. But it was too late now, the evidence was there for anyone to see- or feel in your case. A soft oh was all you offered to calm his racing mind. Heat rushed into his cheeks as he fumbled for words.

“It’s-” his words broke off as you gently pulled your leg away from him, a soft gasp spilling from his lips as he fought the urge deep within himself to chase the heat in order to satiate the growing need in his abdomen. “I… I’m sorry,” he breathed, pulling away from you and attempting to give you as much space as he could within the confines of your shared sleeping bag after you’d finally let go of him. “I…” He wanted to take the blame but he didn’t know how else to get the explanation out, “you were rubbing against me in your sleep and I tried to get you to stop. I’m so sorry.”

The blush in your cheeks mirrored the knight's as you fought to recall the dream you’d been having prior to getting woken up. You hoped you hadn’t said anything while you dreamt. 

“S-sorry, I must have been dreaming, I didn’t mean to… uh,” you stammered out, looking back at him uneasily.

“It’s okay.” He practically whispered back as he looked away from you. His nerves were set ablaze even further by the intensity of your wide eyed stare. This was pathetic, really, the way those fleeting touches sent his head spinning. The way you’d brushed up against him earlier only served to further ignite the fire inside of him. He closed his eyes then and forced himself to focus on his breathing- anything that would take his mind off of the way you looked at him or the light trail of heat that lingered along his skin from the way you’d touched his body.

“We can pretend this didn’t happen,” you offered, voice trailing off as shame crept into your voice as well. Your ears drooped down against your head in embarrassment, the fur blending in with your hair under what dim lighting the room had to offer.

Even as you tried to push the thought from your mind you couldn’t help but glance down and away from his face at that moment. You didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be with the situation… but you couldn’t fight the curiosity, so tempted to steal a glance at the space between his thighs hidden beneath the covers.

He opened his eyes just in time to catch the way you glanced downward, unable to help the way he was drawn back to you despite the awkwardness of the situation. For a moment he wondered if he’d only imagined it and that subtle unconscious flick of your tongue against your lips. Laios practically bit his tongue to stop himself from asking something he might regret later. He wasn’t going to let one little slip-up ruin the trust that the two of you seemed to be building up so far. 

“Yeah… yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He replied with a halfhearted chuckle.

With the space between your bodies now it was becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore the pent up frustration in his body. The cold was now long forgotten as he focussed on the heat radiating off of you in bed next to him as the storm raged on outside.

“We should probably get back to sleep.” You commented, voice barely audible over the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. You relaxed slightly, trying to get comfortable in the new position you found yourself in.

The sleeping bags shifted slightly and you pulled them up, your hand brushing against him through the layers of fabric. This third accidental touch was almost enough for his resolve to shatter, a strangled whine releasing from his throat before he could stop it. He tried to compose himself, it was better to just ignore it. In the morning it would be like nothing happened and the two of you could just forget about it as it became nothing more than an awkward memory at the edge of awareness. Something you think about as you’re trying to drift off to sleep and your brain starts tormenting you with humiliating memories. 

You swallowed thickly, now trying to calm yourself down in tandem with Laios as goosebumps prickled along your skin for another reason now. Something in you was begging to hear that noise again.

It was better to remain professional about this though, and you both knew that. Even as he wrestled with the urge to grab hold of you and pull you in for a kiss, even though he wanted so badly to know just how you’d taste- fuck. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already had. So instead of giving in, he bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from you then, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the ache as his erection pressed into the coarse fabric of his pants with every ragged breath that he took.

Unbeknownst to him you were fighting the exact same demons mere inches away. The air had grown thick between you, almost heavy with the weight of the tension in it. There was a long moment of hesitation before you pressed lightly into his back. Huddling together for warmth now seemed to be a blessing and a curse. 

Your shallow breaths against the nape of his neck were driving him crazy, the warm air ghosting across his skin a stark contrast to the chill in the room around you. It had a cascading effect on his senses. Goosebumps rose against the skin of his broad shoulders beneath his shirt and down his arms. He shifted slightly, biting back another hiss when his clothes rubbed against him. You could feel the tension of the muscles in his back rippling beneath his shirt, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. Your sensitive hearing easily picked up on the way his breathing shook. 

Fuck it, you thought quickly. This was all too much. If it all went south, in the worst case scenario you were almost certain that you could find your way back to the surface yourself somehow or die trying. If the sting of rejection came after what you said next you would find it within yourself to push it down and accept it. Neither of you could stew in this awkward limbo state any longer. 

“I… if you need help getting back to sleep,” you started, your voice tickling against the hair at the nape of his neck when you spoke, “I could uh… help you out…” you offered, voice trailing off at the end as you started to rethink your words. But it was too late now, and the proposition was out in the open.

Laios stilled completely at your words, his body tensing up even further when the offer dangled between you. He wasn’t sure it would be wise to accept, if he even could accept it at first. Part of him wasn’t even sure he’d heard you correctly, were you really offering what his mind wanted to believe that you were?

After a moment of stunned silence, he rolled back around to face you. Even in the dark you could see the pupils of his honeyed eyes were blown wide with lust. 

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly, searching your eyes for any hint of hesitation or reservation.

Your body acted before you were aware of it, lightly pressing closer against him beneath the covers of the sleeping bags but still resisting the urge to touch him intimately before you heard his answer. 

“If you’re comfortable with it,” you replied, tone still hushed beneath the cries of the storm outside, “and if you want me to.”

He hesitated as he weighed his options in his mind. His will was stronger than most, but his resolve in that moment had worn paper thin. As your sweet voice beckoned him he took in the softness of your features, those cute little ears twitching above your head as you waited for his response… How could he resist? 

“...I would like that.” The blond murmured sheepishly, his voice almost catching in his throat as he melted into you where your skin pressed against his.

You let out a breath of relief, your shoulders relaxing then as you slid your hand down between you. He inhaled sharply when your palm pressed itself against the heat in the front of his trousers and you could feel the way he pulsed beneath you in response to the touch. Skilled fingers slid gently along the length of his cock through the fabric as he bit the inside of his cheek. 

Your eyes widened slightly, a light gasp breaking the silence from you as you felt the less than humble girth between his hips. 

His body reacted involuntarily to the touch, leaning into it slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment once more. Everything else had already begun to fade away as he focussed on the warmth of your palm against him, the length straining desperately against the cloth. Fingers rubbed slowly against the outside of the rough fabric before your hand gently squeezed around the tallman’s cock and earned another shuddering breath from him.

Hazy lust filled eyes focussed on the fluffy ears atop your head, too shy to look down at your face as he trembled beneath your touch. His hands balled into fists as you began to massage his shaft, brows knitting together as he fought to hold in a moan. He wanted to touch you so badly, your skin beckoning to him like a siren's song as he leaned into your touch.

The way he pulsed against every little flick and drag of your fingers had your mouth watering in anticipation. Still, you wanted to see him relax, your hand sliding up and down slowly against his length. 

The simple friction of your palm against him shouldn’t have sent him into the tailspin that it did, his hips beginning to shift instinctively against your touch. The slow massage of your grip against him only served to make his body ache even more. Laios finally started to let go, a low moan reverberating out against the night air.

“There we go…” you sighed, lightly squeezing him through his pants once more in appreciation.

As he began to give in fully to the pleasure you were giving him the sounds he made were nothing short of heavenly. Whimpers and whines began to slip out more frequently as you touched him now. His hips rocked against you as the slow strokes of your hands stoked the flames of need within him.

You were acutely aware now more than ever of the close proximity, your lips mere inches apart as you started to fully stroke him through his pants. As much as you wanted to tease him more, it was plain as day on his face that he needed this, and you certainly couldn't say no. Silently, you cursed the fabric that hid his body from view.

He couldn’t help but thrust his hips up against your grasp, letting out another soft whine as a similar thought crossed his mind. He needed more contact, the saccharine sound of your coos coupled with the sensation of your hand rubbing his cock through his pants was only making him more desperate as another whine escaped him.

Slowly, your fingers trailed up the front of his pants, earning a disappointed little huff from your comrade at the loss of your touch. Your breaths trembled as your hand came to rest at the closure on the front of his pants.

Your eyes searched for him in the darkness, looking into his with sincerity as you breathed out a soft “May I?”

“God, yes. ” He whined out.

Even if he wanted to he couldn’t have kept the desperation out of his voice if he tried. It was more than enough to have your hands undoing the fastening on his pants with ease. His hips lifted up off the bed so you could help him shimmy out of the garments just enough. 

His cock sprung free from the restrictive fabric and he let out a contented sigh of relief. It twitched in your hands, earning a soft hum from you as you wrapped your fingers around the base of his shaft.

The sudden release felt like heaven, he couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through his body as you began to stroke him again. That delicious drag of your hand against him, skin finally on skin. Your touch was gentle though, it made him want to press forward even more, his hips bucking up against your grip as a low moan ripped from his throat again. The touch was akin to a jolt of electricity through his system and as he stole another glance down at your pretty face he couldn’t help but admit to himself that perhaps it was more than the friction that had gotten him worked up. 

You lifted your hand and spat gently into it before reaching back down and spreading the warm slick against his length. His breath hitched at the new sensation, his chest heaving slightly with every breath he took. 

You sighed happily as you felt another grateful pulse beneath your grip. Your thumb swiped lightly over the bead of pre-cum that drooled out of the needy pink tip of his cock while you began to pump him slowly. Hot breath fanned against his neck, your gaze flickering back up to his handsome face. If Laios noticed the way your eyes glanced down to his parted lips, he didn't show it. He was too engrossed in the almost torturous pace you’d set for him. 

Every instinct within him screamed for you to pick up the pace, to hurry up and relieve the tension building up in his body as your grip tightened around his shaft. He let out a groan, knowing that in actuality he wouldn’t dare try and rush you, wanting to hang on to the intoxicating feeling of this intimate moment for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I kiss you?” He whimpered out, looking down at you with a pitiful expression on his flushed face.

He’d hardly had to finish his sentence before your lips were on his, eagerly swallowing his moans while you jerked him off under the covers. The noise you made was somewhere between a moan and a growl, your sharp canines grazing against his lips while your free hand moved up to grip the mess of short blonde hair at the nape of his neck.

Your kiss was returned eagerly, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in the perfect taste of your lips. The low hum of Laios’ moans vibrated up from deep within his chest while his hips bucked lazily with every pump of your fist against him. When you finally broke apart he was panting and whining as he thrusted up into your hand.

“You’re so handsome like this,” you purred, pressing kisses against his jaw before he needily pulled you back into him for another hungry kiss.

One of his strong hands tangled its fingers in the locks of your messy hair, the tips of his digits gently putting pressure on your scalp as he kissed you with newfound passion. His cheeks burned at your compliment, unable to keep from giving in. He would proudly drink up every ounce of pleasure you were offering him. You returned the kiss full force, every flick of your wrist dragging more of those beautiful sounds from his lips.

Laios had always found himself weak in the knees whenever you’d compliment him, but he’d done his best to ignore it for the sake of the mission. Your kind words had such an effect on him but right now your praise felt like so much more. Something about the way you pressed into him, your fingers grasping at his hair, soft lips on his, it made him want nothing more than to hear what sort of sounds you might make beneath him instead.

As if on cue, his fingers grazed lightly against the base of your ears, earning a whimper against his lips as you kissed. The soft fur was just as incredible beneath his fingertips as he imagined. He'd wanted to feel those cute little wolf ears from the moment he'd laid eyes on them and now was the perfect opportunity. It was his turn to make you weak in the knees, the comfortable intimacy of the touch had every thought melting out of your mind.

At your moans he couldn’t help but thrust a little harder into your fist. But you slowed down, the slick strokes of your palm all but stopping as your fist tightened around the base of his shaft.

Selfishly, you wanted to drag this out for as long as you could, to milk this moment for everything that it was worth while moans tangled together between you two. His tongue dipped past your soft lips, sinking into your mouth and running along yours as he continued to play with your ears.

You found yourself pressing your thighs together, hips shifting as arousal pooled within you, a futile attempt to get some sort of friction against where you needed it most. The taste of his lips against yours was almost enough on its own to have your eyes rolling back into your head. But the way his fingers teased and tugged at your sensitive ears had your mind swirling with lust as your thumb swept across the crown of his cock once more, smearing precum and saliva against the heated skin.

He groaned again at your teasing, breaking the kiss with a pant as he rutted up into your fist. His head was spinning from the way you touched him, all five of his senses on fire. The way your hand squeezed around his cock, your soft lips on his, those cute expressions when he played with your ears, after having gone so long without a moment to relieve himself it was almost too much and not enough all at the same time. He could feel the soft triangles of nerves and fur twitching and tensing beneath his hand, your whimpers against his mouth were already getting desperate.He needed more of you, more of those sweet sounds you were giving him.

“Please,” you begged, the word leaving your lips like a prayer before you’d realised what you were even saying. The storm didn’t matter anymore, the only pressing issue was the burning desire that threatened to consume you both in an instant. Your grip stiffened around him then as he fucked your hand lazily.

He couldn’t help the lusty moan that drawled out of him when you tightened up. Laios could only hope that the cover of darkness hid how shameless he looked then, adorned by your touch. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus with what you were doing to him. He could hardly keep his composure as your name left his mouth in another desperate whine. The pleasure zipped its way up his spine as his head fell back against the pillows again, eyes fluttering shut.

A strong hand wrapped around your waist, practically pulling you on top of him. His mouth hung open, lips parted to let out the needy sighs and whines that spilled out as his brows knit together.

He looked like the most delectably sinful work of art you’d ever laid eyes on, every marble statue and delicate oil painting paling in comparison. It was difficult not to feel giddy at the fact that you were the only one who got to see such a beautiful sight.

You couldn’t help yourself but to lean down and press kisses along the exposed skin of his neck, canines lightly brushing against the sensitive spots on his neck while you lightly nipped and sucked at his pale flesh.

He could hardly keep his composure, more desperate whimpers leaving his mouth as he was consumed by desire. His heart pounded in his chest like the beat of a drum when you finally straddled him, soft thighs splayed open across his as you worked his cock.

His hand gripped your hips with a newfound possessiveness. The warmth of your body pressed against him had him completely drunk on lust and the throbbing between his legs that you’d been skillfully building up with every little flick of your wrist was becoming unbearable.

Laios couldn’t stop himself from rutting up against you, his cock rubbing up against your crotch as he held you down against his body. A shudder wracked through him when he felt the tip rub against your heat through the layers of fabric that separated you two. 

He let out a soft curse at the feeling, your warmth only teasing him more as you let out a little cry of pleasure. Your hips jolted forwards against him involuntarily, searching for a little more pressure when he bumped against you. 

“Ah…” You sighed, your grip on his length slipping when he shuddered beneath you.

The little mewls you were already starting to let out as you ground against him were more compelling than any siren’s call. His hips jutted forward again as he started to thrust against you in time with the tantalising roll of your hips. The way your body moved on top of him was hypnotising. If there was a heaven, this is what it must have felt like. He needed to get his hands on your skin, to make you feel even half the pleasure you were giving him. His breathing was growing haggard as he fought the urge to rip your shorts in half just so he could have you right then and there. 

“Hah, please, ” he panted, “please, can I touch you?” The way his golden eyes stared up at you, wide and pleading, would have been enough on its own to have your heart racing.

Your eyes were half lidded as you looked down at him, your tail swishing lightly across his thighs in anticipation. Pride swelled in your chest at the mess you’d reduced him to in just a few short minutes, though you were no better.

“Please.” You echoed, proving your desire with another needy roll of your hips against his length.

Your gorgeous form settled prettily in his lap, eagerly awaiting his next move. Gods above, he would do anything for you. 

The tallman’s breath hitched in his throat at your plea, his mouth drying up when he looked up into your eyes. His hands trembled lightly against your thighs as he moved to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. 

“Are you sure?” He stammered out.

Once this line was crossed it could never be uncrossed, there would be no going back. Hell, he didn’t think he wanted to. If he could lay with you every night for the rest of his life he’d die satisfied. Thankfully for him, your reassurance was all he needed to let loose.

“I need you.” You breathed.

The intoxicating drag of his length against your clothed warmth had you both tensing up with the desire for more. You craved him like you’d never craved another’s touch before, the burning ache within you would be satisfied with nothing more than being filled by his girth. 

Simultaneously, at your needy whines he found himself on the verge of losing control, his hips grinding up against you with a little more force before he finally pulled the garments off of you. His knuckles white as he clenched the fabrics in his hand and discarded them beside himself on the bed. The pressure, the lust, all of it was too much.

His strong hands grasped your hips again for a moment as he stared at you in awe, the soft tufts of fur on your body perfectly framing your heat. If it had been any other time and place he’d have had you on your back beneath him in seconds, diving his face between your thighs just to get a taste of what you had to offer. The slick glint of your own arousal shone slightly in the dim lighting, he’d have to wait for another time if he got the chance. Right now he needed this.

One hand slid between your thighs to stroke you gently, his gaze laser focussed on the way you twitched and trembled beneath his touch. The sweet sound of your moans filled his ears and he couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted you up again, aligning his cock with your entrance before slipping inside. Laios didn’t want to waste a second longer without your skin against his.

The head of his cock split you open with ease and had you whimpering at the sting of the stretch while you sunk down on him. Thighs tensed as you sucked his tip inside of you, sending his eyes rolling back into his head.

You groaned, “sh-shit… ah.. S’too big..” You whined.

Despite your protest, he watched as you circled your hips above him, wanting more of that painful pleasure as you bounced slightly in his lap. Silently, you begged your body to get used to the feeling, but on the other hand you didn’t think you ever could… hell, maybe you didn’t want to. The burn of his size was delicious in its own way.

“Mmm-ngh!” He grunted, the tips of his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. His nails threatened to bite into the skin there as he tried hard not to buck his hips up into you. As much as his body craved the feeling of bottoming out inside you he refused to cause you any further discomfort. 

“Fu-huhhck.. It’ll… it’ll get easier, I promise.” Laios cooed, reaching a hand down to stroke you again to ease the pain.

Your head lolled back against your shoulder as you tried to take him deeper, the ridge of his cockhead sinking in past the first ring of muscle when you began to relax for him. The whimpers and groans already leaving your mouth had goosebumps rising against his pale flesh again as his own whines trembled past his lips. His dick pulsed inside of you, sending more fluid leaking out against where you were connected.

“Oh my god,” You groaned, feeling his precum mixing with yours and dripping down the inside of your thighs. 

His breaths were ragged as he tried to maintain his composure for your sake, but all was lost as soon as you commented on the way he twitched inside of you. With a grunt, he let his hips surge forward the slightest bit, sinking deeper inside. The knowledge that his cock was leaking inside of you, that you could feel every twitch and every pulse of his veins in your heat, it stirred something primal within him. His fingers tensed against you while he fought the urge to rut up into you like an animal.

Suddenly, your hand joined his in stroking yourself, fingers teasing the engorged area of your arousal. His eyes were glued to you then, watching the way you struggled to take him. Your hips rolled up and down against the first few inches, trying to take just a little bit more.

“That’s right..” he panted, watching with half lidded eyes as you touched yourself above him. His voice was a low purr against your eardrums, his thumb rubbing little comforting circles into your hip as he drank in the beautiful sight before him. “You can take it… you’re already doing so well, just a little more, yeah?”

You nodded, cheeks burning at the praise as another inch sunk inside.

Laios' eyes darkened with a fierce hunger as he watched you work your fingers against your slick heat. The wet, rhythmic sounds of your shallow thrusting blended with the heavy symphony of breathless moans and urgent whimpers filling the room. The old wooden bedframe groaned beneath your intertwined bodies, each creak adding a raw, primal beat to the music of your desire.

It was all music to his ears. His pupils were blown wide, gaze locked on where you straddled him, lost in the sight of you. The scorching, tight sensation of your walls squeezing around him erased all coherent thought, leaving only a primal urge to fill you completely. 

Barely three inches deep inside you, he was on the edge of sanity, teetering on the brink of losing control with every subtle shift and grind of your hips. Each tiny movement had him mesmerised, but when you whimpered his name with a desperate cry, he gasped, watching you sink further down on his cock. Every little movement you made had his gaze transfixed on you.

Your hands clenched into tight fists against the coarse fabric at the hem of his shirt, the material now messily bunched up around his waist. The friction of the cloth against your skin only heightened the intensity, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through both of you.

His abdomen tensed and flexed beneath your hands as he held himself back. He gasped and shuddered, your body taking him so well as you practically sucked him in. Jaw clenched tight, he let out a soft groan of your name. For a brief moment his eyes squeezed shut, his needy whines only serving to further your attempts to take him all the way. The cold air of the room stung his skin where it touched him, heightening the sensation of your warm body pressed against his.

You were a whining mess already, the mixture of pain and pleasure going straight to your groin when you finally took him all the way down to the hilt. The slight curve of his dick had the head pressing firmly against the spot inside you that made your knees weak. He was finally sheathed inside you, pulsing and twitching like a live wire. Ironically, he was the one who wanted to start pounding into you like a dog in heat. His eyes rolled back again as he let out a guttural moan, the sound rippling up from somewhere deep in his chest. Laios wanted to stay composed, to keep himself in check… but the excitement coursing through his body had rendered him helpless against his own desires as he began to bounce you up and down in his lap. 

The way he said your name echoed inside your head, somewhere between a plea for more and a low groan that rolled off the tip of his tongue. Your hands shook against the fabric of his shirt, your back arching overtop of him as you tried to catch your breath, a blessing he wouldn’t allow you as he bucked into you.

“Oh my god,” his voice was breathless. “Fff… ah- ‘m sorry,” He whined, the friction sending a ripple of ecstasy down his spine. 

His grip tightened on your hips, holding you tightly against his pelvis. That brief moment of weakness had earned a wanton cry of pleasure from your lips. He let another shaking breath out, trying to compose himself, he was reminded of the way your face contorted when he pushed inside. His eyes shut again as he took a deep breath.

Once the initial shock wore off for you it was heavenly. The sound of his ragged pants and whines egging you on as you started to move against him, fighting the urge to melt into his body at the pleasure. Your legs were quivering now as he thrusted up against you again, trying with all your might to keep enough of a level head to move back down against him.

One of his hands reached down to massage your thigh as he cooed soft praises up at you. When you’d started to move all bets were off, his hips thrusting up eagerly to meet your movements while his other hand held your hips possessively. The slow rhythm you’d set was perfect, but he needed more . 

“‘S’okay, right?” he huffed out, looking up at you with what could only be described as adoration. He wanted you to enjoy this just as much as he did.

All you could manage was a hurried nod and a whimper.

“That’s it… yeah,” He groaned, watching as you held onto him for dear life. 

Your features contorted in ecstasy as he began to roll up against you, his shallow thrusts helping to establish that slow rhythm between you for the time being.

That smooth voice had you clenching around him, body shivering. The wind rushed by outside and fell on deaf ears, the only thing that mattered to either of you right then was this perfect moment. Your body spread open on his dick while he fucked you gently. 

“So good,” he babbled, mostly to himself as his head fell back against the pillows. “Oh my god,” Laios groaned, his words punctuated by the slow, steady roll of his hips up against you as he ground his cock against that sensitive spot inside you. 

Another cry of pleasure left your throat, the sound hanging in the open air between you as you began to slide yourself up and down along his length. His words had you dizzy, already drunk on his touch as your legs shook on either side of him. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to maintain a steady rhythm, but the continuous drag against your sweet spot had your eyes glazing over and he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. When another cry of his name left your lips he groaned again. The sound was smooth and hoarse all at the same time, his hands tensing on your hips.

Your body was practically milking him already while you rode him. In a perfect world he could go on like this all night, just laying back and letting you take control… but he could see the fatigue in your movements. Your eyebrows knit together, hands shaking against his abs. Any semblance of modesty or bashfulness had left him as the hands that had rested on your hips slipped below you to grip the fat of your ass with a grunt. 

In an instant your back was flush against the bed, hips pinned down by his capable hands. 

Laios aligned himself with your entrance once more, pushing himself in all the way to the hilt in one fluid motion as he kissed your cheeks to soothe the ache of the stretch. A hand pressed against his cheek, golden eyes looking lovingly into your own as he smiled down at you.

“I can take it from here, okay?” His voice was soft right before he pressed another kiss against your forehead. He had you pinned beneath him as he littered kisses across your heated skin. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back like this, not for long anyway.

“Ngh… o-off,” you whimpered, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. If he was going to fuck you like this you wanted to see it all, every tense and flex of his thick muscles above you until the image was locked in your brain. “I wanna see you.” 

There was a moment of hesitation at your plea, Laios taking in the gentle tone and the way your ears laid flat against the top of your head as you begged so cutely underneath him. He’d never felt so wanted in his life, and the way you clung to him had him half convinced this might have been some sort of dream. Nonetheless he’d shed his shirt in an instant immediately afterwards, his sturdy frame on full display for you now as he sat back up between your thighs.

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you watched him pull his shirt off over his head. Your eyes greedily drank in the sight before you, the way his bare chest heaved with every shaking breath, his abdominal muscles tensing beneath his skin as he rocked back into you. He couldn’t help the smile on his lips when he caught you staring.

His lips were on yours then, capturing them in another hungry kiss as he began to thrust into you with long, slow strokes. Your legs squeezed against his hips, tongues tangling together in an intricate dance to the beat of a song only the two of you could hear. 

Soft fingers pressed into the firm flesh spanning his broad shoulders as you whined into the kiss.

Laios practically growled then, something snapping inside of him when he felt the way your tail flicked against the side of his leg in approval. His head buried itself in the crook of your neck as he began to pick up the pace, grinding himself down against your tight heat.

Creaks and moans filled the room now, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin coming in to join the chorus. Your arousal and pre-cum dripped between the two of you, the viscous translucent fluids stretching between your bodies and connecting the two of you in strings every time he began to pull back. The room was heavy with the scent of sex, all initial reservations forgotten as he slammed into you.

“Ah!” You gasped, claws biting into the skin of his back accidentally when he rammed into the spot that had your vision blurring again.

“Fuck!” He growled again, his teeth scraping against your shoulder in retaliation. “You’re so fucking hot… taking me so well.” 

You practically squealed beneath him, body clenching around his cock with a grip that threatened to make him cum on the spot. The headboard banged against the wall with the force of his thrusts, his grip on you tightening possessively. All you could do was gasp and whimper beneath him as you tried to keep yourself coherent.

The way he fucked you was animalistic, his hips grinding down against you just enough to rub at your arousal trapped between your bodies. Sweat began to bead on his brow as he lost control, those primal urges within him flooding to the surface as he rutted into you.

Your body tensed and shook under him as he used his grip on your hips to deepen his thrusts. His usual soft amber eyes looked more golden, more wolf like than your own as he looked down at you.

Laios grunted as he rolled forwards against you again and sent your claws dragging against his back. You clung to him desperately, this carnal need worse than any heat you’d ever gone through. He had you panting and gasping with the force of his relentless thrusts, the bed creaking and slamming against the wall as you both lost control.

“Fuck, fuck, please! D-don’t stop” you sobbed out.

He didn’t think it was possible for your body to grip him any tighter but every time he pulled out it felt like you were sucking him back in.

He growled in response, his hand reaching down to stroke you in time with his relentless thrusts as he felt the tension starting to build in his abdomen. Your cute little squeaks and whines went straight to his cock. He couldn’t form a proper sentence if he tried.

You were babbling now, begging for more as you started to come undone around him. The perfect arch of your back off the bed pressed you even tighter against his body and he took it upon himself to hold you there as he fucked you through your orgasm.

It had you seeing white, a sob of pleasure wracked your body. Thighs clenched around his hips, your moans shaking. The blond watched as you came, your head lolling back against your shoulders in post orgasmic bliss. He savoured the way your body tightened around him.

His fingernails dug into your hips as he pistoned into you. “C-close…” He grunted into your neck.

In your bliss, you begged him to finish inside. The debauched whimpers setting his nerves on edge and his pulse skyrocketing. Your pleas filling his head as he ground against your already overstimulated heat. Your cum dribbled down against his skin as he pinned you back down, growling into your neck as he reached his peak with a loud curse. The sound was muffled by your soft flesh against his lips and teeth as he shuddered above you. His hips jutted forward and slammed you against the bed as you milked him for everything he was worth, his cock twitching and sputtering inside you.

“Ngh! Fuck…” He whined. His hands rubbed lightly against your sides, lightly squeezing your ass one more time as he stayed inside.

“Hah,” you chuckled tiredly, lightly stroking along the marks you’d left on his back. “I knew you were pent up but I didn’t realise you were that pent up,” you teased, turning your head to the side so you could kiss his jaw.

“‘S not my fault,” He whined, nuzzling further into your neck. After all, how could it be his fault alone when you had him so wound up he could barely think straight? 

This earned a little giggle from you as he rolled off of you, coming to rest at your side in the bed. The wind had calmed outside, the musty scent of the old room long replaced with the stench of arousal and sweat. A part of him couldn’t believe what you’d just done, and in a dungeon no less…

The sight of you blissed out next to him was enough to make him forget his lamentations entirely. Your soft ears tickled his jaw as you nuzzled closer, arms clinging to him as fatigue took over again. He reached down and pulled the sleeping bags back up over you, not wanting to risk the cold creeping back in again.

“You’re so cute like this,” He smiled, the fingers of his free hand gently running up through your hair to stroke your ears lightly.

“Ngh… n-no, shut up,” You whined.

It was a weak line and it was obvious you didn’t mean it. Even Laios could have told you that from your tone alone, but the way your tail wagged against your side of the bed had him beaming. 

“Hey, I mean it,” He murmured, his hands tracing lightly against your skin and the soft patches of fur on it.

You kept hiding your face regardless, embarrassed by the compliment. Your lips pressed gently against his shoulders, peppering kisses there in a silent apology for the claw marks as exhaustion crept into your bones. 

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning down and to plant a soft kiss against the dewy skin of your forehead. He took it one step further and reached over to lightly stroke your tail. His golden eyes were half lidded now and filled with all the adoration in the world as he looked down at you. 

“We should get back to sleep,” you sighed, melting into the way he stroked your hair. 

Even just mere hours ago he couldn’t imagine having you this at ease and relaxed in his arms. He gently adjusted himself so he was curled around you too, your limbs tangled together as you drifted off to sleep.

[antiwhores]

The rubble smells underneath this building. The smell of dirt, dust, and suit. It’s intoxicating, almost. What’s more intoxicating? Katsuki Bakugou’s scent as you straddle him.

About 2 minutes ago, a building started to fall down right in Bakugou’s path. You were both fighting a villain with a quirk thats almost as destructive as Bakugou’s.

The villain went down but the villain decided that so would you guys. So in one last petty move, he dropped a building when Bakugou was distracted.

You dove towards him, scared to see your agency leader die. Especially since you harbored feelings for him ever since you met him 5 years ago.

You knew that you couldnt make it out in time so in quick thinking you threw yourself on top of him and redirected yourself to an area where you didn’t think that I’d fall on you guys.

It was a close call because it was a tight enough space just to fit the both of you.

“HEY!”

Who the hell is he yelling at?

“Wake up, dumbass! Shit, shit, shit… please be alive.”

You forced your eyes, that you didn’t even know were closed, open. You’re straddled on top of him, with your head on his chest. He’s against a wall, looking down at you with a look that you’ve never seen on him before. It quickly turned to relief.

“Holy shit,” he tightened the hands around your waist, “if you would have died I’d have fucking killed you.”

You moved the get off of him but he stopped you. “Theres no room, you’ll bump your head.”

You groaned at the situation, “Fuck.”

“Ex- fucking - actly, this shit sucks.”

As your brain begins to unfog, you start to digest the situation. Panic runs through your body as you wiggle your body.

“What the hell? Stop panicking.” He attempts to still you but you continue to flail.

“Im fucking claustrophobic! I’m gonna loose my shit!”

Tears well up in your eyes when your back hits against the concrete rock behind you for the 10th time.

“Fuck, you’re gonna- fucking stop!”

You only stop when you hear a grunt escape his lips. You blush as the realization comes to you. You’d been grinding against him while trying to get out. He blushes back, grabbing your head and forcing it on his chest.

“God, here- just lay your head down. You’re right on my dick doing that shit.”

Your heart is beating out of your chest. You cant tell if it’s from the fact that your boss is hard against your clothed regions or the situation of being stuck for god knows how long.

“Im sorry, I-“

“It’s fine, it’ll go away. Just stop moving.”

But will it? The way he’s feeling right now with your tits pressed against him and his dick against your crotch doesn’t seem to be fading. He can practically feel the heat radiating from your pussy.

After 5 minutes of silence, he thinks he’s gonna go crazy. His dick is still hard and you’re still on top of him trying your best to not move. The pressure of you against him is unfortunately enough to keep it hard and its driving him nuts.

You both speak at the same time.

“Fuck, can you-“

“What if I help?”

You bury your face deeper into his chest trying to hide your entirely red face.

“What?”

He waits for you to speak, wanting to confirm that you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. You mumble something so low he almost didn’t hear it.

“I wanna help make it go away. If you wanna.”

Bakugou doesn’t speak for what felt like an eternity. Sure, he wanted to take you out on a date. But he thought he could at least wine and dine you before you start getting intimate. His brain is foggy as he thinks about all the late nights he’s spent looking at press photos of you while he strokes himself.

“You don’t have to-“ “But I want to.”

Neither of you say a word as Bakugou tightens his hold on your hips. He pulls you down hard against his cock. You both suck in a breath.

Bakugou curses as he repeats the motion. You begin to grind with him, angling your body so your clit rubs against where you connect.

Its a back and forth effort. You both work towards chasing your highs. One hand leaves your hips and pulls at your hair. He pulls you back to where your neck is exposed to him.

He latches onto your neck, licking and sucking marks into you between groans.

You put a hand over your mouth. The moans that are coming out are getting progressively louder.

“Move your hand.” He demands.

You shake your head. It’s too embarrassing the way you’re moaning like a bitch in heat.

Your eyes almost roll back at a particular harsh thrust. He rips your hand off while you’re distracted. He puts it at your side. “Move it and i’ll bite you.”

You pull at your hero costume. It’s so damn hot.

He takes it as an invitation to pull up your shirt and grab at your tits. He pulls your bra up, “Fuckkk, your tits are so perfect.”

You borderline whine when he sucks on your tit while playing with the other. All while grinding up onto you.

You feel yourself reaching the edge, “Katsuki- Im gonna.”

“Cum for me then.”

Your whole body shakes as your orgasm runs through your body. You shove your mouth against his. The kiss is hurried and hungry.

He only breaks it when his orgasm practically punches him in the face. He grips onto you so hard that theres no way he’s not leaving bruises. He bites into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. He bites so hard that you cry out.

His eyes roll back and a long grown forces itself out.

After you both come down you look each other in the eyes as you breathe heavily.

You’re the first one to break the silence.

“Your eyes are really pretty up close.”

He chuckles, “Go on a date with me and I’ll let you see them even closer.”

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE FORCED PROXIMITY TROPE *  assorted dialogue for the moments and circumstances that force two characters to spend time together, adjust as necessary

who said i agreed to any of this?

i said i would help you. i didn't say i would be nice to you while i'm helping you.

you scratch my back and i'll scratch yours.

oh no. don't tell me it's locked.

i was hired to protect you. that's my job.

i'm actually starting to tolerate you, believe it or not.

i don't want to be stuck here with you.

i'll work with anyone but you.

i'm not letting you sleep on the floor.

they're forcing me to work with you and i don't like it.

how long do you think we'll be stuck here?

is that the only tent we have?

i think we're snowed in here. we'd better find a way to stay warm.

it's going to take a few days for them to reach us.

you sleep in that room, and i'll take this one.

you can't get rid of me that easily.

i'm just going to come right out and say it - i hate being here just as much as you do, but we have to make this work.

don't get any ideas.

i'm going to see if they'll switch my room.

until you came along, i had this under control.

if we're going to survive this, we'd better work together.

why did they sit me next to you?

i'd like to be as far away from you as possible.

out of all the people in the world, i had to get stuck with you.

guess you're just gonna have to get over it.

i thought you were worse than this.

i'm not going anywhere, and neither are you.

you're not exactly my favorite person to be around.

well, get used to it. i'm not leaving.

i told them i don't need a bodyguard.

i never wanted to spend this much time with you.

all this time spent together has really opened my eyes.

you're not as bad as i thought you were.

we might as well try to get along.

i guess i should learn a little bit about you.

i think that means we're the only ones left.

there's no way i'm sharing a room with you.

you again? i've seen enough of you already.

i thought [name] was coming. why are you here?

they're counting on us to save them.

since we'll be here for a while... might as well make the best out of it.

i think we can set aside our differences for two minutes and work this out.

honestly, i think i was wrong about you at first.

there's absolutely no way i'm working with you.

fine, but you're sleeping on the floor. i'll take the bed.

as your bodyguard, i'm supposed to stay with you at all times.

i think we're snowed in for a while.

you could always sleep on this side of the bed.

we have to at least pretend we like each other.

the whole point in having a bodyguard is for me to keep you safe.

i don't like asking for your help, but here i am, asking.

you and i are the only ones who can deal with this.

you don't have a say in the matter.

looks like we're stuck here.

just sleep in the bed with me. i'll even make a pillow wall between us.

i'm not sharing a tent with you.

i need you to stay out of my way.

could you at least "guard" me from over there? why do you have to stand so close?

[mingigoo]

chocolate || Choi San (m.)

❆ pairing ⇢ (fem) reader x brother’s best friend! Choi San

❆ summary ⇢ you never got along with your brother’s best friend San, but you really never needed to. His pretty face and cocky attitude pissed you right off. But when he shows up on New Year’s Eve when you’re home alone, and a snowstorm forces you to stay together for the time being, you can’t help yourself from his enchanting charms—and sexy ass body.

❆ genre/au ⇢ smut, forced proximity, brothers best friend au, snowed in au

❆ warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, fingering, shower sex, oral sex (male receiving), slightly rough but really not too much, creampie, unprotected sex, the power goes out and they want to fuck each ther so bad I’m sorry

❆ word count ⇢ 5.2k

❆ taglist ⇢  @atinywhore @ch0isa99ie @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

The snow crunched under your feet as you walked up to your parents' home.

Christmas had just passed—although both your mom and dad were out of the area, having the time of their lives in the warmth of another country. You envied them, but you were happy to be back in town after a rough breakup and a messy semester.

When you walked in the door with a bag of groceries and now covering your eyelashes, your little brother Wooyoung sat on the couch in the living room, star-shaped shades on his face and a shiny jacket over his bare chest.

“What….why are you dressed like that?” you inquired, shoving your snowy shoes off your feet.

He stared at you blankly. “Are you stupid?”

You scoffed, walking past him to put the bag of groceries away—groceries that were solely for baking cookies. A perfect way to spend the night.

He stood up and followed you in. “Y/n, it’s New Year's Eve. How else should I be dressed?”

You forgot about it. All of it. It already pained you that you were alone this new Year after spending four of them with the same man.

You shoved the bag of flour into the cabinet aggressively. “I don't know, not like a disco ball? That jacket is gonna get puked on and ruined.”

He looked over at you, noticing your distaste. “Are you…..is Soobin, you know, coming in for the holiday? He already missed Christmas.”

Soobin decided to dump you for reasons unknown. You believed it was because he was chasing his dream of becoming an idol, and he couldn't have a bunch of sexy baggage like you, so you let him lose you. 

But if that wasn't the case and he broke up for you for the hell of it, you would strangle that stupid hot boy and let him pay for his crime of losing the best he’s ever had.

Anyway…

“Oh, we broke up,” you shoved the stuff around in the cabinet, hoping to distract your brother from the horrible news. You didn't tell him the whole time you've been home. You've been avoiding it—it was already embarrassing to be dumped, more so around Christmas.

It did not, in fact, distract him.

“Holy fuck, really?” he leaned forward, intrigued. “Why? What did he do?”

“Oh, you know,” you bit the corner of your lip, trying not to look like you were lying straight through your teeth. “He’s chasing his dream. I broke up with him so he didn't have to struggle with the girlfriend baggage and all. He was so heartbroken….”

Woo blinked. 

“Oh, girl,” he offered a sincere smile. Well, as sincere as wooyoung could possibly get. “He dumped your ass, didn't he?”

You stared at him for a second. You couldn't get past him—he’s seen breakups way too many times with San by his side.

“Yep.”

You stood there in silence for a minute or two, trying your best not to reminisce on your relationship—even though you were over him. It wasn't even about Soobin; rather, it was the aching feeling of being someone’s number two. A career, an understandable priority, still felt like a slap in the face to you, as you were less important in his eyes. You can joke with yourself and others all you want—but you crave that feeling of being someone’s pride and joy. Someone’s only thought when the world is about to end.

“Welp,” Woo sighed, not knowing what to say. “I have to head out soon. I’m meeting up with San and Yeosang to head to the party.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter behind you. “Have fun.”

He pondered for a second, sticking his tongue into the inside of his cheek. “Wanna come with us?” he asked.

You shook your head, already not feeling like doing anything—especially anything involving…..San. “No, no, you go have fun,” you smiled at him as best as you could.

He nodded, but gave you a look of worry before he left the kitchen.

You followed him like a lost puppy as he tossed his shoes on in the doorway, struggling to bring his chucks over his heel—his frat shoes, as he likes to express. The shoes he doesn't mind puking on. You watched in enjoyment as he wrestled his shoes.

“I’ll be back later,” he ruffled your hair tenderly, but the grimace on his face felt like he wanted to tackle you—in a playful way, of course.

“Be safe—”

He shut the door with a smirk before you finished your sentence.

—

“A sudden storm will be rising upon us within the next hour or so, with wind gusts up to……”

You could hardly hear the TV from the kitchen as you blasted Christmas music, flour on every square inch of you. You were baking—your favorite hobby. It’s been a while since you were able to bake carefree, and now that you had an unlimited amount of free time, you were going to bake as much as you missed out on. 

As you shoved in another pan of cookies into the oven, you heard the door open and shut loudly, so loud that you were able to hear it over your music.

“Wooyoung, what the hell?” you grumbled, your back turned from the doorway as you fixed up the already baked cookies to cool. “Can you slam that shit any louder? And aren't you supposed to be at a party?”

Silence. No response. 

“I said, aren't you supposed to be—”

And when you turned around, it was most definitely not wooyoung in the kitchen doorway.

You dropped a cookie onto the floor. 

“Well,” San smirked, his grey hood covering his dark hair, his lips curled sexily, and his eyebrows raised. “Aren't you a beauty?”

You stood there in a flour-covered apron, flour-covered hair, face, and everything in between, looking at the man across the kitchen table.

“San,” you breathed, brushing your hands off on your apron and bending down quickly to pick up the dropped cookie. “What are you doing here? Wooyoung told me he was meeting up with you.”

“To see you, of course,” He purred, taking a step closer to you. He walked around the table to get to where you were standing, and not surprisingly, he lifted a finger to the corner of your lips and then continued to taste it on his own. 

You shivered in what you wished was disgust.

His eyes lit up as he tasted it, licking his lips. “Mmm. Chocolate?” he hummed, leaning against the counter next to you. He pulled down his hood to reveal his messy, silky black hair. “You've always been such a great baker.”

“You scoffed, turning back to the stove to check on your cooling cookies. “Why are you here?”

“You just asked me that.”

“Yeah, but you didn't answer correctly.”

“I’m here to see you, baby,” he leaned forward. 

You leaned back.

“Ha!” you laughed sarcastically, picking up your spatula to wield it like a weapon in his direction. When you met his gaze, you felt your stomach drop from his pretty smile and his sickening gaze. “Wooyoung isn't here, alright? So you better leave, or I will kick you out—”

“I’ll just wait here for him until he gets back.” San shrugged, stealing a cookie before running away from the kitchen.

You followed him into the living room, tracking your flouriness all over the place. “Can't you just go home? I don't understand why—”

He was standing in front of the TV as your voice trailed off. Apparently, there was a huge storm that no one saw coming. San watched intently as he snacked happily on the cookie as if finding out that there was a blizzard outside was the best news he’d ever heard.

“A blizzard?” you freaked out, running up to the screen right next to him. After watching for a few moments, you went to the window, looking out to see the roads completely covered and the wind blowing a dusting of white all over the place.

“Oh….I didn't see that coming,” San’s irritatingly attractive voice spoke from right behind you, and when you turned around, he stood with a sinister smile on his face.

“You should go, for real,” you sighed, looking up into his eyes before moving your gaze anxiously. “Before you can't.” 

He peered over your shoulder, letting out a puff of air. “I don't think I can drive back on the roads like this….” he sighed, tilting his head at you. “It's too dangerous.”

You blinked, trying your hardest not to cave into those lustrous cat-like eyes. He blinked at you now, his expression unreadable.

It's been ages since you saw this man—ages, and he still treats you as if you were best buddies all your life. In reality, you've never once liked the guy. His hair pissed you off, his crooked smile boiled your blood, and god, his ears? Why were they so cute? How can ears be cute? Don't get yourself started on his lips…..lips that you….may have kissed once or twice all those years ago.

He never talked about it, so you just ignored it.

And now that you were thinking about his lips, your eyes dropped down to them, and when you realized, you cleared your throat and brought your gaze back up to his eyes.

“If you stay, you have to act like you're not here,” you breathed, crossing your arms over your messy apron. He looked down—down at your cleavage and smirked. “Eyes up here, mister.”

He hesitated to move his gaze, and when he did, your stomach flipped once more—god, maybe you just needed to get laid. It's been ages since you had a good fuck….

No. what were you thinking? No. no, no. Stop it.

You took a second to gain your thoughts before speaking again. “Just… don't do anything until wooyoung gets here.”

He stood close to you, looking down with those seductive eyes, his smile blindingly attractive. He didn't even need to speak to make your knees weak—which was probably why you hated him so much.

He bent his head to get closer to you, that smile still on his face. 

“Can I speak, master?” he nearly moaned, biting the corner of his lip. “I feel like it would be unfortunate to remain silent during our….reuniting time.”

You let out a little chuckle. “What? Reuniting time?” you uncrossed your arms. “That's funny. We were never close enough to unite in the first place.”

“Oh, y/n,” he purred, reaching out to twirl a finger around your hair. You wanted to run away. Your mind told you to, but everything else craved him—as it always has. “I would say we united many times, haven't we?”

He looked like he wanted to grab you as tight as he could and swallow you whole—but the conflict in his eyes said no. you watched his eyes dance around you, how his hand froze mid-air within your hair, and his lips flat in a line.

And it took everything in you to move away from him. 

You took a step back, watching his eyes drop to your feet.

“You can stay,” you coughed, looking anywhere but him. “But don't…don’t bother me. Don't talk about….uniting, or reuniting, or whatever…..” you huffed, giving him one last look before running into the kitchen, only to find the cookies in the oven burnt to a crisp.

And once again, the cycle began. San’s enchantment was whirling around you, capturing everything in its wake. Your heart never belonged to you—no, it always belonged to him.

And he will make sure you will never forget it.

—

San sat at the table, watching you intently as you made another batch of cookie dough.

“How’s school?” he asked you, his voice soft.

You shrugged, stirring the dough with your bare hand, as there was no mixer. “It's fine, same same.”

He nodded, his chin held up by his palm. You continued to mix the dough.

“How’s what's his name? Soo—Soomin? Soojin? Soo–”

“Soobin?” you asked, trying not to smile at his obvious distaste.

He nodded, a frown on his lips.

You didn't get to respond as your phone interrupted the conversation.

“Ugh,” you huffed, holding your dough-covered hands in the air, unable to get your phone in your pocket. “Can you…can you get my phone for me?”

San stood up. “Where is it?” 

You pointed to your back pocket. “There, in my pocket.”

When he got next to you, he hesitated on reaching to get it, but when you gave him the death stare, his gentle hand glided down your back, down your ass, and to your pocket. You froze at his touch and nearly missed the phone call from your mess of emotions. 

He answered the call for you and held it up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank god,” wooyoung breathed. “Don't go anywhere, alright?”

You scoffed, looking down at your dough-covered hands and your filthy clothes. “Ah, I wouldn't worry about me going anywhere. I’m definitely not fit for an outing.”

Wooyoung didn't laugh like his normal self. “For real, don't go anywhere. I won't be home for a good while because of the storm, so make sure you stay safe and warm.”

“Awe, I didn't know you cared so much about me,” you cooed, but when you saw San’s little smile at your words, you immediately swallowed hard, lost in thoughts you shouldn't be having while you're on the phone.

“Anyway, just be safe,” Woo sighed, taking a breath in. “I’ll be living off this shitty-ass beer and stale cookies. These sons of bitches are so cheap I swear—”

Without warning, the lights flickered slightly.

And then they went completely off, leaving you and San with no lights, no power, no anything.

“What the fuck—”

“For fucks sake,” San hissed, catching him off guard. Wooyoung, however, perked up the minute he heard a man.

“Who’s there with you? I heard a voice?”

“Oh, it’s just San,” you mumbled, looking up at him, where his eyes even sparkled in the dark. You forgot your train of thought for a moment. “He came here looking for you.”

“Yeah, right. That dude’s been obsessed with seeing you ever since he knew you were coming home. What a little pussy. He had to make up a lie to come over? Pfft—”

“Ah, oh no, looks like we lost service too—you’re breaking up—” San coughed, and after a moment of time for wooyoung to react, he hit the end button, tossing your phone onto the counter with haste.

You gave him a funny look as he tried to ignore your gaze. The room was extremely dark—not a single light source other than the little bluish glow from your home screen on your phone. 

You had no idea what to say to him; he didn't know what to say, either. You just stood in the dark kitchen, the oven at a standstill, and so were your feelings. He was looking down at his feet, trying his hardest not to look at you—although it was too dark to see you, anyway.

“Guess I’m done baking,” you hummed, giving him a slight look of curiosity before you took the cookies out of the cold oven. 

“Yeah, that won't work now,” he muttered quietly, very much unlike his usual dickhead way of speaking. He swallowed hard, too close to you. 

You stood strong right in front of him, your body telling you to grab him by the neck and kiss those gorgeous lips of his. Maybe you were just that desperate to feel something after your breakup—or maybe you always wanted San—either way, you were so close to giving in to your desire, but you pushed yourself away and took off your apron slowly.

“You never….you never answered my question earlier.”

You set the apron down on the counter next to your phone. It shut off now, leaving you in complete darkness, with San only a shadow in front of you.

You frowned, but you couldn't see the look on his face in front of you. “What question?”

“About how Soobin is?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look up into San’s eyes. You saw them sparkle slightly, and you stared into them. “So you do know his name.”

“I really don't care what his name is, y/n,” he grumbled, taking a step closer to you.

You smiled, knowing by the tone of his voice that he was aggravated. “Well, if you must know, I really don't know how he is.”

San grew quiet, but you heard him take a breath in. “what do you mean?”

“We broke up, so I wouldn't know how he is, alright?” you hissed at him, but only to get a reaction out of him—god, you didn't know what you’d do if what wooyoung said was true—that if San came here to see you, that he was waiting to see you for ages, that he’s irritated over the fact you’ve had a boyfriend—all of it would send you into a spiral. You always told yourself you'd need to be completely wasted to even think of San in a new light….but here in the dark, with his hot breath caressing your cheeks, you were ready to say fuck it to your facade. 

He didn't say anything for a while. He just stood there, his one hand leaning against the table to hold himself up. 

“You…broke up with him?” he hummed quietly.

“Mhm,” you nodded, tilting your head up to try and meet his gaze.

He swallowed, nodding. “Mmm. I see,” he smiled—at least it looked like he did. “Nice.”

“Nice?” you furrowed your brows.

“Well, I mean, I never liked the guy, so—”

“Why?”

“I don't know—”

“Yes, you do know,” you took a step even closer, causing him to catch his breath. “What’s the reason?”

He sighed, his breath dancing across your skin. “Well, like, two years ago or so, when we were out at the bar,” San took a second to form what he wanted to say, and you stood and looked up at him without a blink. “He got you a drink with Malibu in it.”

You blinked, confused. “So? I don't even remember that San, I don't know why you're bringing that up—”

“Because you hate coconut, y/n,” he interrupted you, his tone of voice exasperated. “And you hate going to bars—they stress you out. You didn't even finish the drink before he got you another and didn't even care to know what you liked…so I didn't like him.”

You stood there, mouth slightly dropped after his words. 

That was enough of a confession for you. 

“So….you didn't like him because he got me a coconut drink or….” you reached out, your fingers delicately draping over his that were resting on the table. He jumped slightly at your touch as if he was never expecting it. “Or because you could do better than him?”

San remained still as you let your fingers glide up his arm, feeling the softness of his hoodie that you wished to take off.

“....I think you know why I didn't like him….” He breathed.

You leaned forward in the dark, your gaze piercing right into his. Your hand met the base of his neck, sending shivers down his spine from the coldness of them. He let out a sound of pleasure at your touch, your other hand meeting his waist.

You didn't say anything else. You just wanted to fall into him, even with the consequences; it didn't matter what would happen tomorrow. He was breathing shallowly, his lips parted, begging you to kiss them as if he was waiting forever. 

And as if they knew the timing, the lights flickered back on, revealing a lovestruck San—his eyes hazy with desire and his expression out of a book.

His fingertips found their home on the side of your cheek, holding your face gently, carefully, as if you were glass.

You were less than an inch away from his lips, but before you pressed them to his, you stepped back, knowing that you were a filthy mess—you didn't want him to spend this time with you while you were embarrassingly messy.

“I….” you paused, pulling away from his hold. “I…need to shower,” you mumbled, giving him a look.

He blinked slowly. “A…shower?” 

“Yeah.”

With one last look at him, you saw the hesitation in his eyes. You walked past him, brushing up against him before you walked up the steps.

And before you got to the bathroom at the end of the hall, you heard his clunky footsteps make their way up the creaky stairs.

“Wait, hold on,” he huffed, grabbing your wrist to turn you around. “What was that?”

You looked at him innocently. “What was what?”

He furrowed his brows. “You know, that.”

You shrugged, fighting the smile that begged to arise. “What?”

He groaned, dropping your hand in a fit. “You were going to kiss me.”

You tilted your head, playing with him. “Was I?”

“Were you not?”

“I don't know.”

“Yes, you do know! You were literally about to kiss me—”

“And what if I was?” you whispered, your eyes slanted with mischief. He looked at you, his own expression changing from confusion to….well, more confusion. 

He bit his bottom lip. 

“Am I supposed to follow you into the shower?”

You smiled, letting him decide what you wanted him to do.

With a curt turn, you opened the bathroom door, leaving it open a crack, inviting him in.

You took off your messy top, covered in flour. You waited patiently, taking off your bra and your pants, and all that was left was your panties before he entered abruptly. 

“Listen, you can't leave that door open and not expect me to—oh,” he paused, his breath shaky. 

You stood unmovingly, facing him.

And with a slight scoff, he ran towards you. 

“Fuck it,” he huffed, slamming his body into yours, swallowing you with his whole being.

His lips caressed yours, biting your tongue, shoving his own into your mouth. You took in a sharp breath as he sucked on your soul, his hand finding your breast to squeeze it tightly.

“God, I’ve been waiting to do that forever,” he groaned against your mouth, his other hand playing with the hem of your underwear. With one quick motion, he pulled them down, falling onto your ankles as you stepped out of them.

You smiled into his kiss, tearing away at his hoodie before he pulled it over his head, leaving him shirtless and full of glory. You parted away from his lips, kissing down his chest, over his mounds of muscle, until your knees hit the floor.

He froze under your touch, your fingertips gliding over his hard-on. You grinned devilishly up at him, his expression in a mess of excitement and nervousness. Him? Nervous? Impossible.

You pulled down his pants as swiftly as you could, causing him to hiss sharply. He was fully on display for you now, his cock pulsing and ready for you. You grazed your fingers from his base to his tip; then you took it in your mouth without a warning.

He grunted, immediately gripping the hair on top of your head, tossing his own back with aggression. His little moans were music to your ears; not once did you ever believe you'd hear them—he looked so fuckable. So desirable. He always did, which explains why he was your first-ever kiss, why you always thought back to him when you were with Soobin, why you couldn't avoid his charms even though you so desperately tried.

He moaned your name—said it with such haste as if he couldn't hold back. As if he’s wanted this for ages. He leaned into your mouth, moving his hips slightly to push himself in deeper. You let out a gag, causing him to moan once more, making you smile against his cock.

You moved back and forth on him, no hands in sight. You glanced up at him through your eyelashes as you pressed your lips at the base of his dick, watching his eyes close tight and his chest heave.

“God fuck,” he huffed, his fingers tying knots in your hair, causing tears to build up behind your eyes. You liked it—loved it—his touch was ecstasy.

Without a minute to waste, San pulled you upward and off of him, just for him to press his lips to yours, reaching backward to turn the knob on the hot water.

You giggled against his lips as he almost fell. He smiled back, teeth clashing into yours as he pressed his bare skin to yours. You both stepped into the shower, not even caring that the water wasn't warm enough yet. 

His tongue slid down your throat, caressing the roof of your mouth, exploring the uncharted territory. Water spilled over your heads, dripping down your faces, drenching your hair. His hand gripped the back of your head as he slammed you into the wall of the shower, causing you to gasp.

He pulled away for a second, his eyes heavy, his lips parted as water dripped down his beautiful face. He pressed his forehead against yours—feeling as though this scene was all he’d ever wanted; it was premeditated—not a quick decision.

He blinked away the water, smiling before enveloping you in another kiss—this time, it was less lustful and more desperate. He breathed into your soul, his hands cradling your face with all the tender care he could muster. His breaths were shaky, and his hold on you was tight, as if there was somehow, someway, you would break away from his embrace.

You bit into his lip, your hands never finding a home as they explored all the planes of his body. He grunted as you reached for his dick, his eyes glimmering at your expression. No words were needed—he gave you one last look before flipping you around, shoving your face into the fall, and sticking his dick into your entrance. His lips were nibbling at your ear, his hot breath delicately stroking your body and soul.

He didn't push past your entrance just yet—no, but his fingers did. They glided over your clit from the back, your breasts aching from being pressed against the tile. He let out a little hum of a moan into your ear as his fingers entered you, two of them. You whimpered in delight, the movements turning you on more and more. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, his fingers curling up inside you, his shallow breaths echoing in your mind. 

You couldn't take it anymore—you needed him inside you, now.

“I need you in me,” you moaned against the tile, tilting your head slightly to see his expression. “Now, please. God, please.”

He smirked, moving you now to the far wall, your back still to him. You nearly slammed your head into the wall as he moved you.

“As you wish,” he breathed, his voice dripping with lust, with love, with unknown feelings. With a quick movement, he shoved his dick inside you, causing you to arch your back from the fill. You cried out, holding onto the wall as he gripped your hips, moving rhythmically and melodicly. You furrowed your brows in pleasure, muttering his name. “Oh, San,” you moaned, causing him to move even faster.

The water crashed onto you, making you feel even higher than ever were before. The heat of it was scolding now, but nothing beat how hot San made you feel—he was indeed a genius in the manner of lovemaking, a god, at that. You knew why, everyone knew why, but you didn't care at the moment. The only thing you cared about was his body on yours, in yours, all around you.

You were reaching your high, your vision hazy. You let out a cry, a huff, something to show that you were enjoying him, and he made a sound, too.

As you reached your climax, you arched your back even more, shoving your face against the wall, your forehead thumping against it with every thrust of his. You came on his dick then, your body fighting the urge to shake from the feeling he supplied you. 

He felt it—you knew it, as he quickened his pace, his breaths becoming more uneven as the time went on, your body tightening around him. He hissed sharply, thrusting with grace until he emptied himself into you, coating you, becoming one within you.

He collapsed into you, against the wall, his dick slipping out from you. He huffed, catching his breath as the bathroom filled with steam and sweat. You turned around in his embrace, his head falling onto your shoulder with a thud.

And then he started to laugh.

A laugh so beautiful, so….raw. You began to laugh with him, smiling as you grabbed his cheeks to lift up his head—so he could see you. 

His eyes were red, but they sparkled with so much emotion that you wondered how he was feeling. 

“So,” you smiled, watching the water from the showerhead drip over his black hair. “Happy New Year, I guess?”

He smiled—a smile that made you want to stop everything.

And then his eyes widened. “What time is it?”

You frowned. “I don't know, my phone is downstairs,” you whispered, locking eyes with him.

He paused for a moment, not knowing what to do, or at least that’s what you believed until he leaned forward and brushed his lips to yours ever so gently.

A kiss for a lover. A kiss more meaningful than sex could offer.

He pulled away, but only slightly, as his forehead rested against yours. “Happy New Year,” he kissed you again. “Just in case it is midnight. You haven't been my New Year’s kiss since years ago, you know.”

You didn't know what to say—you weren't sure where he was going with this, as you had never brought up your kiss with him before. He spoke cautiously, yet without caution at all.

“I….well,” you swallowed hard, looking up at him shyly. “You can be my….new years kiss every year, if you’d like.”

He smiled—grinned like a wild animal at your words.

“Well, if you don't mind, I’d like to kiss you more than once a year.” he grabbed you by the waist swiftly, smirking,

You giggled like you were experiencing this for the first time. In all honesty, you may be. No one has ever made you feel this way. You never wanted anything more.

With a flirty smile, you leaned forward into his embrace, the shower hissing in the background of your confessions. 

“I would love that.” you nodded, looking up into his eyes. 

He looked like a dream, his hair wet, his eyes bright. You couldn't wait to share more New Year's kisses with him, more showers, more cookies. You wanted everything and more—even if you didn't exactly know it quite just yet.

He was your everything—Your heart never belonged to you—no, it always belonged to him. And you will never forget it.

[missmatchablossom]

A Palace Romance: Gojo x Reader Royalty AU

masterlist

summary: you are a princess in an arranged marriage with the crown prince of the country, satoru gojo. when you finally come of age and move into his palace, the two of you are forced to spend time together. read along to watch the love unfold <3

a.n: welcome to my super fluffy gojo series! something sweet meant for you to read while you giggle and kick your feet <3

part I: a fated meeting

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/741187890203197440/gojo-x-reader-royalty-au-summary-you-are-a?source=share

part II: a midnight sweet

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/741369546371366912/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part III: a cold warm evening

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/745410714328563712/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part IV: a heartfelt hug

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/746992704466092032/come-be-delulu-with-me?source=share

part V: a confession

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/752028381986586624/gojo-x-reader-royalty-au-part-v?source=share

part VI: a compliment

https://www.tumblr.com/missmatchablossom/752693180393193472/gojo-x-reader-royalty-au-part-vi?source=share

and more to come!

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ build a fic; forced proximity edition 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

➴ chose a space, an object and a line of dialogue (a number, letter, + creature), and write/request to your heart’s content!)

𓂃 ࣪˖ a space

꒰ 1 ꒱ a broken-down elevator

꒰ 2 ꒱ a gas station bathroom

꒰ 3 ꒱ a dusty attic

꒰ 4 ꒱ a dimly lit storage locker

꒰ 5 ꒱ a ship’s brig

꒰ 6 ꒱ a bank vault

꒰ 7 ꒱ a wine cellar

꒰ 8 ꒱ an armoury

꒰ 9 ꒱ a hayloft

꒰ 10 ꒱ a shipping container

꒰ 11 ꒱ a holding cell

꒰ 12 ꒱ a firewatch outpost

꒰ 13 ꒱ a secluded cottage

꒰ 14 ꒱ a security hut

꒰ 15 ꒱ the foot of a massive redwood

𓂃 ࣪˖ a body part

꒰ A ꒱ thigh

꒰ B ꒱ palm

꒰ C ꒱ knee

꒰ D ꒱ pinky finger

꒰ E ꒱ ankle

꒰ F ꒱ eyebrow

꒰ G ꒱ nape

꒰ H ꒱ ear

꒰ I ꒱ calf

꒰ J ꒱ stomach

꒰ K ꒱ lower back

꒰ L ꒱ chest

꒰ M ꒱ hip

꒰ N ꒱ scalp

꒰ O ꒱ knuckles

𓂃 ࣪˖ a line of dialogue

꒰ 𓆉 ꒱ “… would now a bad time to tell you that i’m claustrophobic?”

꒰ 𓅨 ꒱ “i- “ “sh, honey.”

꒰ 𓆣 ꒱ “you’re not okay, you’re shaking! what can i do? please, just- just let me help you.”

꒰ 𓃰 ꒱ “shit, someone’s coming- in here, quick!”

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ “i’ve never been so glad that you run hot.”

꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ “i’m gonna take my hand away, but you have to promise to stay calm, okay?”

꒰ 𓃟 ꒱ “just never figured you for a little spoon.”

꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ “your eyes are really pretty up close.”

꒰ 𓆈 ꒱ “i know you don’t like to be touched, but there’s not a whole lot i can do about that right now.”

꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ “we’re gonna need to talk about some things after this, aren’t we?”

꒰ 𓅟 ꒱ “don’t bullshit me, i can hear your heart pounding.”

꒰ 𓃵 ꒱ “you’re a real good hugger, y’know that?”

꒰ 𓃓 ꒱ “i like your perfume/cologne.”

꒰ 𓆌 ꒱ “of all the fucking people to get stuck here with, of course it had to be yo- “

꒰ 𓆏 ꒱ “i can’t believe that this is what it took for you to let me hug you.”

[zriasstuff]

Way too close—Theodore Nott x reader

Forced proximity

certain things need to he resolved…

If someone would have told you earlier today, that if you went to tonight’s Slytherin party you’d be stuck in an old closet with the Theodore Nott later on, you’d have never went.

But here you were, stuck beside Theo in an old closet used for storing rags and brooms, which smelled extremely unpleasant. You could practically feel a broom stabbing you in the back, but you didn’t want to move because you’d have to get closer to Theo in the process. He was facing you at the moment, but you weren’t looking him the eyes, instead you stared at the dusty closet floor.

It’s not that you absolutely hated Theo, although he hasn’t been exactly the nicest to you in the past. He always believed that he was entitled to do whatever he wanted without thinking about the consequences, especially the ones that would be inflicted on other people.

You remembered that a year ago, there was this huge rumor that your boyfriend at that time had made out with another girl. It wasn’t true though, and Theo had been the one that spread that lie. You guys broke up anyway, you just weren’t meant for each other, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that Theo had put a huge dent in your relationship and had made you feel so extremely humiliated.

It was a thing of the past, you moved on, but something about him still made you feel uneasy. And besides, he just had this overall intimidating, dark aura around him, as if he’d start a fight with you any second. Perhaps it’s just the way some people are.

You had originally thought that he’d refuse to spend 7 minutes in heaven with you, when the spinning bottle had landed on you, but to your surprise he was quite alright with it. Maybe not happy, definitely not unhappy though.

“What are you thinking about”, he asks you, disrupting the silence that had lasted for a solid minute already, while curiously looking down on you.

“Nothing, really”, you reply.

“Well you look like you got a stick up your ass, what’s with your weird posture?”

Rude. Were you really standing that crookedly, you ask yourself.

“If you must know, there’s this broom digging into my backside and I can’t stand properly without…”, you go silent, hesitating to name him the reason. Why would you, it would only be another six minutes.

“Without what?”, he further questions you in a demanding tone.

“…without practically leaning onto you” Fuck, you said it, and you knew you were blushing so hard right now. Why had you even said that? It was not like it made the awkwardness better. Luckily, darkness surrounded you, masking your intense blushing. What would he say now? You couldn’t possibly imagine a response.

“Then I guess I don’t want you to be uncomfortable now, do I?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he being sarcastic? He certainly looked serious.

“What are you waiting for, move”

You definitely did not know where this was going, but after a bit of hesitation, you decided to do it, since he was so insistent. Although you were still confused on why he was so comfortable with having you lean on him. You think probably because he’s used to having girls all around him.

Moments later, finally lean onto him, pressing your body closely against his. Faces only inches away from touching. The warmth of his body immediately spreads to you, and you feel his breath on your skin. There was this awfully weird tingle going through your entire body.

His intense stare stuns you so much, that you feel your knees going soft for a second. It’s like you couldn’t focus on anything else besides his electric touch, it made you melt. Meanwhile, you also realize you’d never been this close to any guy before, ever. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all…

“Better?”

“Yeah, thanks”, you dryly reply.

This could be nice, you start to think to yourself. Perhaps you could start some small talk with him, to make the position you were in less full of tension.

��So-”

“So, do you wanna make out now?”

WHAT. What the hell, that came out of absolutely nowhere, and your mind starts to spin. Making out with Theodore Nott after just 3 minutes of talking ? Why in the hell would he even suggest that? He must be out of his mind.

He barely knew you, and now he wanted to make out? So many questions were circling your head, but not a single, coherent response left your mouth.

“uhm- wha, what?”, was all that escaped your mouth in a stuttering manner. It was all you could come up with.

“Clearly, you are not very experienced with party games, so let me explain“, he just so nonchalantly says. “Seven minutes of heaven is for making out. And it doesn’t hurt when the person you’re stuck with is really hot. So, since you’re more comfortable now, can we make out?”

He really had no sense of shame you thought to yourself.

All that left his mouth so matter of factly, that you barely had time to process what he said. Did he just call you hot? Not that you had much more time to overthink it because his lips smashed against yours already.

He used one hand to hold your waist, to keep you close to him, and the other to grab your head. Every single one of his touches sent electric waves through your body, and the kiss itself was so unexpected, yet so gentle. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and his lips were so soft and they intertwined with yours in such a magical way. It ignited a growing desire in you, that you also clung onto him tighter, wrapping your arms around his neck. Every aspect of this made you want to get even closer to him, but no.

He can’t just do this all of a sudden. You barely know him, besides from the thing he did to you in the past. Plus, this was such an intimate moment, and there was no way you were going to experience it in a dusty closet, so you pull back, as much as you want to continue locking lips with him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”, you flip the mood around 180 degrees. That may have sounded ruder than you’d expected, which you didn’t mean to. But you still had to confront him.

“Listen, I know you make out with like 10 girls a week, and this game may be an excuse for you to make out with another one, but I barely know you, and the things that I do know of you aren’t exactly nice”.

There, you’d confronted him, the most intimidating person you know. Seems like you were still pretty hurt by what he did, even if you told yourself it didn’t affect you all that much anymore.

“Playing hard to get huh?”, he raises an eyebrow at you while saying that. “You know, seconds ago, if I recall correctly, you seemed to enjoy the kiss a lot too. And now you wanna act like I forced myself on you, so what’s up with that?”

He was right, you did enjoy it too. It wasn’t fair to blame him completely. What if you had just shut up and enjoyed the kiss? There was no turning back though at this point.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t just pretend the kiss was all you. But I meant the part about you not being such a nice person”, you correct yourself.

“Now, what’s not nice about me?” He asked that in an accusatory tone, but he actually looked genuinely interested.

“Do you not remember what you did to me a few months back?”, you had hoped he would have some sort of memory about that.

“I barely remember what I do during any day, so no. I swear I’ll make it up to you though”, he replied honestly.

“You spread a rumor about my ex cheating on me, which wasn’t true by the way, never apologized, made me feel humiliated for days, and now you want to make out?” When you hear yourself speak those words, it really just made the situation seem even worse.

After not blinking and thinking for a few seconds Theo comes up with something and says “I didn’t realize it was that hurtful, but you gotta know do a lot of stupid stuff”

“I still don’t hear an apology”, you clap back, “and you doing stupid stuff often isn’t an excuse to be a bad person, maybe you should just quit doing stupid stuff.” What came out of Theos mouth was the lamest excuse you have ever heard, and he deserved to be knocked down a peg.

“So you’re seriously not gonna make out with me?”, he asks, sounding almost annoyed.

You didn’t think he could be any more of an asshole than he already was, but here you go. Theo wasn’t even worthy of a reply, so you just rolled your eyes.

At this point 7 minutes must’ve already passed you think because there was no way that 7 minutes were this long. You raise your arm to knock on the closet door, to signal to someone to unlock it, but before you could, Theo stops you in your tracks.

“Wait, wait, wait”, he said while holding onto your wrist, “I’m sorry, I know I come off as a jerk right now and most of the time too, but I do like you and want to make it up to you for having hurt you in the past.”

Even though he sounded halfway genuine, you didn’t fully believe he was sincerely sorry. He had also just completely changed within seconds. You just wanted to get out now, forget everything that happened, but there was no way of avoiding his gaze, that was scanning you right now for an answer.

“And how will you do that?”, you challenge him, to see if he really means it. It would be nice if he did make it up to you after all this time. Better late than never you think. You just didn’t want him to play a stupid trick on you instead.

Theo takes some time to think about his answer again. In the end he replied with “I’ll take you on a nice date.” He sounded way too cheeky saying that.

“That’s kind of selfish don’t you think, I don't believe a simple date will make it up to me”, you retorted at his proposal. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy it, the amazing kiss was still on your mind. When you thought of it, it made your stomach all fuzzy again. You just wanted him to be genuinely apologetic.

When you looked at him again, he was smiling for some odd reason. He countered with “Well, how do you know that it won’t make it up to you, if you don’t even give it a try?”, he did have you there. Perhaps it was his cheeky, yet charming smile, or the kiss, but you saw his point. There was no way of knowing before actually giving him a shot at redeeming himself. Theo continued smiling and he knew that he had somehow convinced you.

To give him a date wouldn’t be the end of the world, so what’s the point of making it more complicated than it is.

He was still patiently waiting for an answer, so at last, you gave him the satisfaction and agreed to a date. It was a huge relief on both of your sides, and you could hopefully finally put the past to rest after the date.

After a bit of more talking and banter, someone finally unlocked the closet doors and apologized for having forgotten all about you. Theo chuckles and flashes a grin at you before saying “Don’t be sorry, I thank you.”

[urfriendlywriter]

forced proximity prompts > < :

( im not very satisfied w this but yeah, feel free to use and tag me when u do so <3)

pulling them into a tight space to not get seen, and they smirk so wide

^ "if i didn't know you, I'd say you're trying to seduce me :))"

when they are shielding you from someone and they lean a bit too close

+ going crazy when you smell their cologne. (+ if they notice it and try to tug you closer??????)

"you're so red, love." "oh, then why is your heart beating fast, [name]?" >\\<

"hey, you're shivering.." followed by their hand gently tugging your body closer to theirs while they rest their chin on top of your head.

locked up in a room together

teaching you how to do something

being extremely gentle when you're close to them

there's no bed but you lay your head on their chest while their arm is wrapped around you? on the floor? with your shirts slightly raised that their skin grazes???

taking care of them when they're sick

baby sitting together

saying "i feel like I'm not babysitting the actual baby, but I'm baby sitting you" followed by a giggle by them

"obviously i don't LIKE spending my time with you, but now I'm forced to?? VERY GOOD." "you like spending time with me only in your fake scenarios, don't you, love?"

fake dating, but having to kiss infront of the family!! "do you trust me?" "i do, [name]" followed by THE KISS

[suguwife]

Executive Tensions. (one)

tags: exbf!Gojo Satoru x f!reader, CEO x secretary, porn with plot, 18+ explicit sexual content, mdni, masturbating, slow burn, mentions of cheating, forced proximity, mini series

- 9.7k wc

a/n: this is the backstory to reader x gojo - angry heated one shot for this is in part two !!

(part two)

You had just posted a story on your Instagram, a picture of flowers that your new boyfriend gave you. Baby pink peonies, a big bouquet of them in the shape of a heart.

Only a few minutes after posting the photo, your phone vibrated, and your heart skipped a beat seeing your ex boyfriend’s name appear on your screen, Satoru. The message was simple and yet it made your heart beat faster. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, you hate him.

“He doesn't know that you prefer actual luxury gifts?” Was the first message he sent you in months, four months since the breakup. Why is he viewing your story?

You respond after a couple minutes with “I like flowers now.” Its an obvious lie. You knew he’d know. You had always been materialistic, you found gifts and money more efficient over flowers that would die anyway.

“You're lying.” He replied within seconds, obsessed much.

He had to admit, after stalking your socials for a little while, your new boyfriend seemed to make you happy, or at least that's the image you projected.

It was annoying, it made him feel sick to think that someone else could make you smile like that, or even more.

You reply after a couple minutes again, “Well I like flowers now. Stop texting me I already removed you as a follower.”

His jaw clenched and his grip on his phone tightened, seeing your reply, he wasn't expecting you to be so cold with him. But of course you would be, in a way he deserved that. “You didn't remove me, stop lying.”

“I just did.”

“Why? did your new boyfriend tell you to do that?”

He double texts another message, “Is he that insecure? Does he not want you interacting with your ex ‘cause he’s scared?”

You scoff a laugh in disbelief at his accusations, ironic coming from him. He seems to be the insecure one here. “No, I decided to remove you. Stop being so irritating.”

He doesn’t respond to that, he just re-reads over the conversation on his phone a couple times like an obsessive freak before throwing his phone on the bed and running his hand through his hair, “Fuck..”

Laying on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling and clenching his jaw as the image of you with your new boyfriend danced in his head.

The next day, Satoru sat in a black seat behind a long desk, a few of his assistants on either side. In front of him, the candidates for the new position that had just been opened in his company were standing before him, one after the other. The interviews had already been going on for quite some time, he was just beginning to get bored, until you walked in.

Honestly, you had no idea that Satoru would be here, until you saw him sitting on the main seat. The seat for the CEO of the building. You knew he was a CEO, but he had worked in a different building whilst you were dating. Despite the sudden shock running through, you remain calm and composed.

Your parents were bugging you to do something with your life and that you can’t live in their luxury for the rest of your days without working towards anything so, here you are. Applying for a boring office job, just so your parents would see you as a hard working woman. A useless thing, you believe. You’re fine as you are, perfectly financially stable.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you, you were even more beautiful than the last time. He had only seen you off your socials since the breakup, but in real life your beauty glistened the entire room from boring and dull to bright and refreshing. He blinked a few times to recover from his surprise, before straightening up in his seat and looking at the papers in front of him.

Trying to ignore the hammering in his heart as he focused on the papers, he couldn't deny it now. He hadn't forgotten you, not at all. He never could. No amount of hookups would get his mind off you. In fact, during all those times he’d have sex with other women after the breakup, he’d only see your face despite how bratty and argumentative you became with him.

Little did he know that the only reason you became so hostile towards him was because he had cheated on you with a prostitute. He doesn't know you know. You didn’t bother to explain, wanted him to realise himself. But he clearly didn’t.

He was just about to say something when one of his assistants spoke up. "Excuse me sir, this is the last candidate to be interviewed, y/n l/n.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, he eyed you up and down. He tried to control his emotions and remain stoic, but in reality, it took all his self-control to stay that way.

He gestured for you to sit in the chair in front of him, his expression bored.

You keep your poker face plastered on as you take your seat, questioning yourself. When did he start working here? This building is #1 in Tokyo, he had been working a little lower before. Unless he owned this building too and just never told you?

God, this is so embarrassing, interviewing to be a low class assistant for your ex boyfriend just to please your parents.

You furrow your brows ever so slightly but regain your composure again, you needed this job. You needed to show your parents that you can do anything, you just choose not to. And it’s true, you can do anything, because now everyone beside him is smiling and whispering with amused expressions as they tick all the boxes near your name. Only Satoru had been staring into your eyes, like a staring contest between the two of you.

He cleared his throat before finally speaking up, his tone neutral. “Alright then, you may leave for now.”

After politely saying your goodbyes you make your exit, his pupils stalked you until you left the room and the door closed behind you. Letting out a slow sigh once you were gone, he felt his heart rate calm down to a normal pace once more.

“I think she did pretty well, sir.”

“One of the best from today, sir.”

He nods at his assistants, trying to play it off like he was unfazed by your presence. But deep down, seeing you again after so long in real time was like an electric shock to his heart. A reminder that he never got over you at all. Ugh, what was he thinking? You became a bitch, you broke up, the decision was mutual.

The assistant's voice pierced his thoughts. “So, what do you think sir? Should we hire her?”

He hesitates for a moment, his mind torn between his emotions and his rationality. He wanted to say no, to reject your application, but he couldn't seem to do that either, he knew you were qualified.

After some deliberation, he finally spoke up in a firm tone. “...Hire her for my secretary position. She has the necessary qualifications.”

As he spoke, a few of the people around him looked at him and each other with surprise visible on their face, but they immediately tried to mask it. They all knew that his position as CEO required a secretary, but they had been under the impression that he would never agree to hire someone for that position. Every time a candidate came in for the role, he’d always deny them. Clearly, you always got what you wanted and Satoru was willing to give you that, despite the fact you only interviewed for a low assistant role.

He could sense their surprise and knew that they had expected him to reject the idea of a secretary once again, but he didn't care. This time, he had a very selfish reason. He wanted you to be his secretary, so he could see you every day. Even if it was just for work.

He continued to look at the papers in front of him, pretending not to care about their reactions, his heart still pounding from the idea of you being his secretary.

Would you even accept the job? And if you did, what would happen between you two?

He didn't know and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out either.

“I expect one of you to alert her for her position and the expectations for it too.” He says coldly, standing up from his seat and fixing himself to head back to his main office. “Have her start her shift from tomorrow morning.”

He nodded to his assistants, indicating that he was done for today and didn't want to be disturbed, before leaving the room and walking down the long corridors to his main office. The thought of you working for him now excited him as much as it worried him. He would see you every day, but would he be able to control himself and remain professional...?

He arrived at his main office and closed the door behind him, heading to his desk and sitting down on the big leather chair. He placed his elbows on the desk and let his face rest in his hands, sighing deeply as he stared at the desk in front of him. This wasn't going to be easy at all.

Well, you knew you always got what you wanted, but you didn’t expect to be given the secretary role. You never even applied for that? Were the people around him just overly pleased by you so they convinced him or was he doing it out of the fact you're his ex?

Whatever the reason, you took it. You didn’t want to bother with anymore of those fuckass interviews. But you can’t believe he’s making you start the next morning, what a dick, as always.

Your black heels click as you enter his office dressed in dark tights, a dark grey pencil skirt and a sleeved white button up shirt, hair up in a French twist, just normal business attire. Oh but to him, oh fuck. As he sat on his seat, his dick sprung up to the sight of you, all dressed up like a hard working woman.

He mentally cursed himself, placing his hand casually as possible on his boner trying to hide the evidence even though you weren’t able to see anyway from his desk blocking your view.

He swallowed hard and quickly tried to compose himself, not wanting to let his surprise show.

Clearing his throat, he spoke up in a professional tone, “You're early, good. Have a seat in front of my desk.”

You want to mentally roll your eyes at him, of course you were going to take a seat. Did he just expect you to stand there until he told you what to do?

You keep your expression neutral as you take your seat and stare at him.

He couldn't help but study your features, the way your eyes landed on his, your hands folded on your knees as you crossed them over. Everything about you was exactly like he remembered.

He took a deep breath to recompose himself before speaking “You may be wondering why I hired you as my personal secretary.”

He leaned back, resting his arms on the armrests of his chair as he continued speaking. “I was going to pass on hiring one, but stocks have been rising lately so it’s been getting busy. And after the interview, I felt you were more than qualified for the job.”

His tone was professional, as if he were speaking to any other employee, but his dick was pulsing with its own heartbeat, faster than ever. It was painful, but he managed to remain stoic. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face despite how hard it was making him. Would it be so bad if he wanked off to your pictures once you left? Maybe he shouldn’t do that. He carries on speaking. “But I'd better warn you, working as my secretary isn't easy. I have high expectations and demands-“

You cut him off, your tone blank and your expression still neutral. “I'm sure.”

God, he was infuriating to look at. You wanted to grit your teeth and roll your eyes or kick him but you remained professional and calm.

He was slightly amused by your response, your short, simple answer somehow satisfying him.

Leaning forward a bit in his chair, his eyes remained on you as he continued. “I have no doubt you can handle it.”

He paused for a moment before adding, “I hope you're up for the challenge.”

Tch, what challenge? The only challenge will have to be serving him for the next couple of months before you choose to quit.

His eyes lingered on your face for a few more moments, his heart still racing and the beat in his dick pulsing despite his calm demeanour. He tried to push the thoughts of your past relationship to the back of his mind, but being so close to you now was making it difficult. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he knew he wasn't allowed to. He was your boss now, and he had to maintain a professional relationship with you.

“What do I have to do?” You question.

He sat back in his chair and picked up a folder on his desk, opening it and looking through the contents. You can’t deny how handsome he looks in his suit and his professional manner, it made you throb even though you despised him.

“Your primary job is to take and pass on my instructions, organise my schedule, arrange my meetings, prepare and take notes during business meetings, prepare reports, among other things.”

He glances up at you as he continues listing the duties of the position. “You will be in charge of handling my business calls and emails as well. Which means being available to me at all times.”

His eyes roam over your face, pausing for a moment on your lips before quickly looking back at the folder in front of him.

He closed the folder and placed it back on his desk, his eyes still on you. “Do you think you can handle this job? It can be demanding and time-consuming, not everyone is cut out for it...”

You inhale, exhale, and speak. “It's not that hard, just a lot of simple tasks to complete.” Really, it sounds like I’d be doing all his work for his lazy ass.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, seemingly entertained by your confident response. “You seem pretty confident in your abilities...” His arms across his chest, his voice suddenly more firm and serious. “But let me warn you, l have no patience for mistakes or incompetence. I expect everything to be done in a timely, accurate and professional manner. I'm not an easy boss to please, I demand the best of the best.”

“Yeah. I'm aware.” I state, a hint of irritating sarcasm in my tone. During our relationship, he'd always be toxic and impatient. Never understood the true meaning.. or even tried to understand the true meaning as to why you had become such a bitch towards him. Never came to the realisation that you were aware of his cheating.

He cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter in his chair, trying to push those memories from his mind...

He kept his cool demeanour and spoke in a calm but strict tone.

“Good. As long as we're clear on that.” He paused for a moment, observing you closely as if trying to read your thoughts. He leaned forward a bit in his chair, his hands folded neatly in front of him on his desk.

“You start your first day of work today. I know that I’ve got a few meetings that need preparation and I need you to take on some duties today as well.”

He studied your face closely, taking in your reaction. He was still trying to figure you out, trying to figure out if you were hiding anything behind your neutral expression, but it was too hard. He always found it hard to understand you behind that expression.

“Okay. Do I get a written list or anything on what I need to do for each day?”

“Yeah, I have a list of assignments for you ready. But I'm also expecting you to keep up with daily tasks and schedules.”

He gestures to the laptop on the desk in front of you.

“There's a new file there. It's for all of the assignments and tasks you need to do, it's constantly updated and you'll find everything in it that you need to do for today and the future.”

You slide the laptop in front of you as you speak, breaking eye contact, “Okay.”

“Any questions?”

“Hm.. I’ll ask you when they come.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why are you applying for jobs? You don’t even need to work.”

You sigh, of course he’d ask that. You didn’t want to let him in on too much. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t get that tone with me, I’m just wandering.” He glared at you with a firm and cold expression.

You roll your eyes at him, finally. Your eyes were begging to do that from the moment you entered this room. “My parents wanted me to do something.”

“Ah.. They doing okay?” He questions, a little smile on his face.

You don’t respond, just stare at him with a bored expression because, why the fuck is he asking how your family is?

He nodded with a small smirk playing on his lips, the fuck is he smiling for now? God you just wanted to get up and kick his dick, make sure he’s unable to fuck any other woman.

“Alright then. I have a meeting in about an hour. Get started on those tasks. And do a good job. I'll be watching you.” He cuts off your intrusive thoughts as he speaks.

You grab your laptop and say your goodbyes, you can’t help but be irritated with the way he’s speaking to you. No please, no thank you?

“She's still as cold as ever...” He mumbled to himself, his brain replaying the look on your face, the sound of your voice. He knew you were intentionally hiding your emotions, putting up a professional front, but he couldn't deny that he was enjoying the game of trying to figure you out.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply as he tried to clear his mind. But he couldn't focus on his work, his thoughts still lingering on you.

You make your way to a smaller office designed for the secretary, small yet simple and spacious. You browse through your laptop which had a detailed list of assignments and tasks, some assigned to you that day and some that you would be handling in the days to come. “Jesus. I'm basically doing his work for him. Tch.” You whisper to yourself as you prepare the meetings and documents for today.

Meanwhile, in his office, his dick was still hard. Punching through his pants aching for release, he had to place his sweating forehead on his desk to control his breathing. But it was futile. He contemplated whether it would be harassment to touch himself to you but fuck, he needed to.

He stood up, walked heavily with ragged breathing and locked his office door then made his way back to his seat, immediately unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down so he’d have access.

His mind ran back to the times he’d pound into you, the wet, filthy noises that would escape from your entrance and your tongue. His hands glided up and down at the thought. The words you’d say to him as he fucked you raw in his bed.

“Just like that toru.. mh…”

“Yeah? Like this?” And he’d slam into you balls deep, making you scream his name as he panted like a dog in heat “That feel good, princess?”

“So.. so g-goo- oh!” You were so drunk off his dick you were never able to form full words. He loved the way your soaked walls would clench him even though you’d whine, “T-too much.. no more!!” But no amount of your whining would make him stop, your pussy begged for him despite your words.

“Tell me how it feels.” He’d say through panting gasps as his fingers would rub over your clit rapidly whilst his dick hit your G-spot then pulled back out, then back in again, making sure to hit you well. He wanted to know how you felt as his dick would speed into you, wanted to raise his ego.

Then he’d push down on your abdomen, just where he’d bulge through your sweaty skin, “You feel that? You take me so well, baby..”

And the way you’d cry out in pleasure, weakly trying to push his hand away from pushing down but he’d just chuckle, pushing down harder as the sound of squelching wetness filled the room.

He can’t help it, mid-wank he picks up his phone from his desk, scrolls through his hidden images in his gallery and rewatches the clips he’d take of you moaning and whimpering his name as he played with your clit. He never deleted anything of you.

He panted heavily once he reached his climax, his hands filthy. Shit. He headed to the bathroom connected to his office and cleaned himself up. Was it harassment to touch himself to you.. without permission? I mean it’s not like you knew.. Shit, maybe he fucked up. Nobody will know anyway.

Time ticked by as you worked on the tasks for the rest of the week, diligently typing away on the keys of the laptop and sipping on the frappe you had bought. Whilst Satoru attended his meetings and completed his work in his office. Although, every time he’d walk around the building, he’d always steal glances of you in your office working. And god, you always looked as beautiful as ever to him.

His father, the former CEO, strolls into the building, his presence immediately commanding respect from all the employees as he walks by. He was a tall and dignified man, his presence alone enough to make everyone take notice. Every employee, including you bowed to him, paying respects.

Shit, this must have been the building he would talk about to you in the past. He’d always complain to you how his father wanted him to overtake his business, but he never told you the name of the building. Well, to be fair, you never asked. And now here you are, working as a corporate slave for your ex boyfriend of a dick.

“It's nice to see you again, y/n.” He says to you, standing before your desk, probably confused.

“Ah... you too sir.”

“I wasn't expecting to see you working here, it's been a while.” His tone was gentle, but there was an undertone of curiosity and concern in his voice.

You nod and offer an awkward smile, “Yeah... I didn't know Satoru was the CEO of this building.”

“Yes, he took over as CEO two months after you both... ended.” He pauses for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly wary. “And you're working as his secretary now...?” He questioned, looking around the office.

Oh fuck, embarrassing. It sounds as if you’re desperate to be seen by Satoru. “Yes. I am.”

He nods again, his expression still neutral as he continues to observe you, “I see...”

Awkward as fuck. Not because he’s Satoru’s father, you and his family had a good relationship when you were dating. It’s more awkward that your specifically working for his son now.

“How are things between you and Satoru? You two are on... good terms?”

“...I guess.” You fiddle with your hands slightly, wanting to let out a long, deep sigh.

“You guess...?” He lets out a small sigh and continues, his tone slightly gentler this time. “Are you getting along with Satoru fine? No... issues, or arguments?”

“No, not at all sir. We’re okay now.” True, you aren’t. It’s more boring talk. But maybe it’s because you haven’t lashed out on him yet.

He studies your face as you speak, trying to read your expression. He can tell you're not being completely honest, but your words are spoken in a polite and professional tone. “I see..”

“So are you... enjoying working here? You're not feeling uncomfortable or anything?”

“No not at all, it's good working here. The building is amazing.”

“I'm glad to hear that. The building is quite impressive, isn't it? And I hope Satoru isn't... giving you too much work to do?”

You chuckle in response,”Well, I am working on tasks for next week so..”

“Ah, I see. So he’s already making you work ahead of time..”

As his father leaves your office, he makes his way to Satoru’s office, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sees him lazing around in his chair.

“Satoru...” His voice is a low, almost a disapproving grumble as he enters the room, closing the door behind him.

Satoru, hearing his father's voice, looks up with a slight expression of annoyance on his face. “Ugh... what is it?”

He lazily spins around in his chair, his body language oozing nonchalance and boredom.

His father doesn't look amused as he walks up to his son’s desk, a stern expression on his face. “We need to talk.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on Satoru as he continues. “I was just in your secretary's office, and you know who I saw?”

He raises an eyebrow at his father's words, a mixture of annoyance in his eyes. “Y/n?” He says in a bored tone, as if he's already expecting some sort of lecture from his father.

“Yes, why?”

“Oh, yeah. I hired her.” He responds casually, as if it’s normal to have your ex girlfriend work for you.

His father lets out a sigh, his expression becoming more agitated. “Anyway, you need to get married soon. You're already 28.”

Satoru groans and rolls his eyes at his father's words. He's heard this lecture from his father numerous times, and it always irritates him. “You're still on about that?”

His father remains stern and insistent, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, I am. You're at the age where you should be looking for a suitable partner. You can't just keep playing around forever and hooking up with random whores. It's time for you to settle down.”

Satoru lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Ugh, can we not have this conversation right now? I'm busy.”

His father's expression hardens even more at his dismissive attitude. “No, we're having this conversation now. And you're not going to use the ‘I'm busy' excuse this time. You've been putting this off for far too long, Satoru. It's embarrassing to have a son who has sex with prostitutes. You need a wife to put you in your place. You need to have kids so you remain a good man.”

Satoru's eyes narrow at his father's words. He knew it was pointless to argue at this point, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of irritation at being lectured like a child.

“And who do you expect me to marry? Do you have someone in mind?”

“Well, if you're asking for my opinion, yes I do have someone in mind. But knowing how stubborn you are, you're probably not going to like it.”

He raises an eyebrow again at his father's words, curious. He lets out a sigh, resigned to having this conversation. “Fine, spit it out. Who is it?”

His father takes a deep breath, bracing himself for Satoru's reaction. He knows what he's about to say will probably not go over well with him.

“Even though she’s your ex now.. y/n. She's a good girl and she comes from a respectable background and we liked her. You two were together for a while. Who better knows you? She'd be able to keep you in line. You're still hung up on her anyway, just stop fucking around and treat her well, then she'll be happy with you.”

His face immediately darkens at his father's words, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You can't be serious. You actually want me to marry y/n?”

His father lets out a small chuckle at Satoru's protest, not taking his words seriously at all. He's clearly amused by his son's denial. “Oh please, I know you're still into her. And she doesn't hate you, she's just mad at you because you messed up. And her boyfriend? Pfft, I saw him, he's a pathetic waste of space. She deserves someone better, someone like you. Just stop being a coward and admit you still like her.”

He lets out a scoff at his father's words. He can't believe his father is talking about y/n like this, as if he knows better than him. It's pissing him off, even though he’s right.

“You're seriously overstepping your boundaries, old man. I'm not a damn teenager who can't make decisions for themselves. I'm the CEO of this company, and I have a private life. No, I'm not marrying y/n. It's not happening.”

“You're acting like a child, Satoru. And don't give me that CEO bullshit, it won't work on me. You're still my son and I'm still your father, and I'm telling you to marry her. End of story. I'll arrange the marriage even if I have to force it, I'll get y/n to agree.”

Satoru's jaw clenches, his patience reaching its limit. He can feel anger coursing through him, and he has to force himself to stay calm. “You'll what? Arrange a marriage?! Dad, you're out of your damn mind. You know damn well y/n and I didn't end on good terms. We were constantly at each other's throats, it was a disaster. And forcing her to marry me? That's insane.”

His father scoffs, “Who else would you marry?”

“Anyone but y/n. Literally anyone. I’ll marry a stranger, I don't care. Just don’t push y/n onto me.” Satoru's voice is firm and unrelenting, but there's a hint of desperation in his eyes as he stares at his father.

His father lets out a frustrated sigh, seeing that his son is in no mood to listen to reason. He takes a deep breath and tries a different approach. “Alright then. I'll have a few respectable women, or girls your mother and I know come over to the family estate. They'll talk to you and you talk to them. Then come to me and tell me which one you prefer. Deal?”

Satoru’s expression softens slightly, his anger slowly subsiding. He doesn't like the idea of being set up with women he's never met, but it's better than being forced to marry his ex. “... Fine. But I'm not promising anything.”

His father smiles slightly, glad that he's finally getting through to Satoru. If he doesn’t prefer any of them, then he’ll definitely arrange you both. But he won’t mention that yet.

“Good. I'll arrange it then. And I better see you talking properly to these girls, got it? No snide comments or sarcasm. Just behave well. Don't embarrass me son.”

He rolls his eyes but nods reluctantly. “Yeah, yeah I'll be on my best behaviour. Don't worry.” He mutters, still not thrilled about the entire situation of marriage.

“Today, tomorrow, next week? When?”

“Next week. This coming Saturday. I'll have them head to your study room in the estate, not your apartment, so make sure you come over in the morning. Be ready.”

Satoru nods again, resigned to his fate. He knows his father is not backing down. “Alright, I'll be there.. Whatever.”

The next day, Satoru is bored in his office, idly scrolling through his social media feeds when he receives an email from you. He opens it up and reads through his schedule for the day, letting out a small sigh.

It's then that he suddenly remembers the conversation between him and his father, and the arrangement to bring the women over to their estate next week. He groans inwardly, not looking forward to it at all.

He could just do as his father's says and marry you instead. but you're his ex and you hate him because he's apparently toxic. and he doesn't even like you anymore since you became so bratty. At least, that what he tells himself.

As his thoughts swirl through his head, an idea starts to form. He glances at the door to his office, considering it for a moment. then he calls out to you through the phone speaker. “Hey, come in here for a moment.”

You hear his voice over the alert system in your office room and head over, once inside you speak, “Is something the matter?”

He motions for you to close the door behind you and sit down. “No, everything's fine. Just sit down.”

He waits for you to sit down on the chair opposite him, his eyes studying your face as you do so. He's not sure how you're going to react to what he's about to say.

“I need to ask you something. And I want you to be completely honest with me.”

Okay, you can do that.

He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on the desk in front of him as he looks you in the eye. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

You respond immediately, “No.” Did he expect you to be open considering our history? What an idiot.

He chuckles as he looks down, “Damn, you're still as bratty as ever.”

He leans back in his chair and looks at you again. “You still hate me, huh?”

You stare back at him, a bored expression on your face, “Obviously.” You hated his guts and he knows that.

“Yeah, I figured. We did end on bad terms after all, didn't we?” He speaks with a hint of arrogant irritation in his voice.

You sigh before you speak, “What do you want?”

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the desk and entwining his fingers in front of him. His gaze is steady and intense as he looks at you. “I need you to listen closely to what I'm about to say and try to keep an open mind. Can you do that?”

“What?”

Inhaling deeply, he prepares himself for your reaction. He knows this is going to be a difficult conversation. But he should at least ask before closing off the option.

“I'm going to ask you something... a little... hm. I don't know what's the word but, don't get all mad at me. It's just an offer from my father. it's not that I want to but I'm just letting you know.”

You groan in irritation at him, “Okay, so what is it?” He’s taking too long and you’re becoming impatient.

He almost chuckles at the frustration on your face. But he knows better than to make any dumb comments if he wants to even have a chance to explain himself.

“Alright, alright. I'll get to the point.” He clears his throat, preparing himself for your reaction. “My father wants me to get married. He gave me the first option to marry you but I denied it because, well I thought you'd say no anyway. So instead he arranged some women for me to meet next week at our estate.”

“Okay? What do you want me to do about that?”

He sighs, “You're really making it difficult for me to talk to you." He rubs his temple with his fingers, getting annoyed with your stubbornness. “Alright, I'm just gonna say it then.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at you straight in the eye. “I'm gonna ask you again. Do you still hate me, yes or no?”

“Yes. I hate you.”

“You really are damn stubborn, you know that?” He sits back in his chair, studying your face for any signs of weakness or doubt. But your expression remains icy and impenetrable, just like it always was before you broke up with him..

He leans forward again, his gaze never leaving your face. “Fine, you hate me. But that's not the question I'm asking.”

But that was the question he just asked?

“My father was going to arrange our marriage forcibly, but I told him not to because I thought you'd disagree. If you could, would you agree to the marriage?”

You contemplate for a moment, would you? You hate him, you can’t trust him anymore. Not when he cheated with some random prostitute. “It depends.”

He quirked an eyebrow at your answer, intrigued and slightly amused that you're actually considering the possibility. “Depends on what?”

“Money.” You say blankly. Hypothetically, at least. You weren’t being serious but if it were to happen you’d marry him for money. Because only money could make you get back with a cheating ex like Satoru.

He scoff at your response. It's so typical of you to think of the financial aspect first. But he doesn't seem too surprised. “Oh, you're such a greedy little gold digger. I'd be paying you to be married to me, huh?”

“What's the problem with that? I have money and come from wealth too, it’s only obvious I’d still want more. If I married you I’d want to be paid weekly.”

You watch him shake his head and chuckle, both amused and annoyed at your audacity. He never expected you to actually admit to being a gold digger so shamelessly. “Damn. You really have no shame, do you?”

He looks at you as he considers your proposition for a moment, “Weekly payments, huh? How much are you thinking?”

“Hm. To get married to you and leave my boyfriend... £100k to get married to you, then £2k weekly sent to my bank. I'm only saying that because it's not gonna happen.” You say the last sentence firmly, standing your ground as you glare at him from your seat.

He grins at the ridiculously bold request, “£100k to marry me? And £2k weekly? You're really trying to milk me for everything I've got, huh? You're fuckin’ expensive.”

“Those are reasonable offers if your rich. You have the money to give that.”

He can't deny that you're right. Though he finds your demands amusing and frustrating at the same time. "You really have no shame to ask for that much money, don't you?” He mutters under his breath.

“And why do you want £2k weekly? wouldn't I be providing you with everything as your husband?”

Ugh, he’s asking as if I’d ever accept him as my husband.

“What do you plan to do with the £2k weekly payments?”

“For myself, obviously. You’re questioning me as if it'd actually happen. I'm not marrying you.” You chuckle as you speak. “Was just answering your question from before.”

“I know you're not gonna marry me, it's just a damn hypothetical question.” he mutters, his voice edged with frustration. “But I'm asking why you'd want that much money for yourself?”

“Why wouldn't I? Plus If I had left over money, l'd pass it down to my children for inheritance.”

“Of course you're thinking about inheritance for your children,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “You know, most people get married for love, not just for money.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn't be marrying you for love, it'd be forced if ur father went through with it for real. Anyway, good luck to the women you're meeting next week. I have work to do and this conversation is annoying. I'll be taking my leave.”

He eyes you as you stand up and head toward the door, slightly annoyed and amused at the same time by your bluntness. “Right, right," he mutters, leaning back in his chair again. “Run off to do your work. Maybe you'll find another guy to milk for money while you’re at it.”

You roll your eyes and scoff as you exit the room, shutting the door behind you.

He lets out a long, heavy sigh and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head at the crazy idea that he even considered discussing the possibility of marriage with you. “Damn it...” he mutters to himself, “What the hell am I thinking... Tch. annoying bitch.”

Saturday finally rolls around, and Satoru finds himself sitting in his family's grand estate, waiting for the women his father had invited. He's sitting in his study room, tapping his fingers on the armrest of the couch with growing irritation. He still dreads the idea of having to meet all these women, especially after the conversation he had with you a few days before.

Hours passed by, but to no surprise, all the women were either bratty, annoying, clingy, boring or ugly. He heads to his fathers study room, his frustration growing with each step.

He had hoped at least one of the women would pique his interest, but they were all lacking in one way or another. Finally, he reaches his father's study room and knocks on the door. He waits a moment before hearing his father call out from inside, “Come in.” A small smirk playing on his father face.

He steps into the room seeing his father sat smoking a cigarette, his expression a mix of irritation and disappointment. As if he knew that you wouldn’t like any the women. He closes the door behind him and stands in front of his father's desk, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Judging by your face, I'm guessing the meetings didn't go well?”

Satoru lets out a heavy sigh “You could say that. None of the women you picked out were my type. Honestly, they were all damn awful to be honest.”

His father lets out a small chuckle at Satoru's blunt assessment. He leans back in his chair and looks at his son “I see. Well, I guess that's expected, given your picky taste in women. So marry y/n. I'll arrange it.”

His eyes widened at his father's words. He hadn't expected him to bring up your name again so casually.

“What? Wait, hang on I told you we shouldn’t-“

Cutting him off, his father waves his hand dismissively. “I know what you said, but you didn't find anyone suitable so there’s no other option.. You're not that old, but you should start thinking about your future. I'm tired of you always spending your time with prostitutes. Y/n’s a good girl, and she's from a good family that I know well. It's the perfect match.”

“That's bullshit, I don't care if she’s a 'good girl' we don’t like each other anymore, and you know that.”

“You can't just rely on picking women based on your taste. You have to consider the bigger picture, Satoru. Y/n is from a wealthy family, and a good partner for the future. You can't just dismiss her because you don’t like her. You have to think about how this will benefit you and your future. And don't lie to me, you loved her until you both started arguing constantly because of your behaviour. Fix yourself up. I'll speak to her and arrange the marriage, I'm good at persuading.”

Satoru clenches his fists, trying to keep his cool “Damn it...I can't just agree to marry her because it's convenient. What about my own feelings and preferences? I don't care if she's from a wealthy family or a 'good partner for the future.' I'm not some damn chess piece in your grand plan. Why the hell can't you just leave me alone about this? I don't want to be stuck down to one women I like my fucking prostitutes and why does that even bother you?! The public don't even know.”

His father slams his hand on the desk, his patience wearing thin at Satoru’s vulgar and immature words.

“Enough nonsense, Satoru! I'm tired of your selfish attitude. You're not a child anymore, you're 28 years old, it's time you start acting like an adult. Marriage is not just about your feelings, it's about responsibility, legacy and power. Y/n’s family status and background will bring stability benefits that will outweigh your damn personal preferences. I don't care how many damn prostitutes you sleep with, you're marrying y/n.”

“I've already spoken to her, I gave her a hypothetical question, and you want to know what she said?”

His father looks slightly surprised at his words, but he quickly regains his composure “And what did she say?”

“She said, if she did marry me it would be for money.”

His voice is laced with frustration and anger as he crosses his arms, his glare fixed on his father.

“She was only interested in the damn money. Nothing else. Told me if you forced her to marry me, she'd only go ahead with it if she was pre-paid £100k and then paid a further £2k by me weekly. then she said she's only saying that because it'd never happen and she won't marry me.”

His father's expression remains neutral, “What's so bad about that? We have wealth and so does she. it's only normal for her to want more, especially if your her ex. I don’t blame her.”

His anger reaches a boiling point at his father's nonchalant response. He leans forward, his eyes blazing with frustration, “You're goddamn right she's my ex. And that should be enough reason for you not to try to force me to marry her against my will.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, but his frustration is evident in his every movement.

His father leans back in his chair, his expression still calm, “Listen, I understand that you have your reasons for not wanting to marry her. But you have to understand that I'm only thinking about what's best for you. She comes from a wealthy family, and she shares similar values to ours. She'd be a valuable addition to our family, and I'm sure you'd be able to find happiness with her if you stopped your toxic behaviour.”

Satoru's jaw clenches as he listens to his father's words. He can't believe that his father is still pushing this idea, despite his objections. “You just don't get it, do you? It's not just about your stupid values and wealth. I have my own life, my own preferences, my own damn desires.”

He shakes his head, feeling a mixture of anger and frustration. “You can't force me to marry someone, my ex, just because it's convenient for you or our family reputation.”

“Satoru, stop being so goddamn egotistical. This isn't just about pleasing me or our ideals. It's about doing what's right for your future. And let's be honest, your current lifestyle isn't exactly sustainable in the long run. You need a partner who understands and respects you, whom you can share your life with. And someone who can keep you in check. Leave my room. I'll arrange you and y/n. That's the end of it.”

“Ugh, fine! but don't expect me to treat her like a goddess wife.” He was tired of these lectures, tired of his futile defensive arguments.

“Trust me, after spending a few days with her as your wife, you'll come to appreciate her, she was always a good daughter figure when she’d visit whilst you dated.”

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands “And I expect you to be on your best behaviour. No more womanising or hookups, got it?”

He rolls his eyes, feeling frustrated but also resigned to the situation “Yeah, yeah, I got it. No more women, no more hookups. You want me to be a damn saint, I'll be a saint.”

A day later, his father calls me, telling me to visit their estate and that he has something important to discuss with me. I head over and enter the family estate, a butler leading me to his fathers study room. Am I going to get fired already? No.. if I were to be getting fired I’d be called to Satoru’s office.

Satoru sits in his father's room, staring out the window as his father sits beside him. His thoughts still swirl with anger and frustration but he knows he has no choice to argue with his father.

Suddenly, his father's butler knocks on the door and enters the room. “Excuse me. Miss l/n is here saying that you called for her?” He steps aside, revealing you standing in the doorway.

“Hello..”

His father stands up and smiles at you warmly

“Ah, y/n, please come in. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

I enter the room, closing the door behind me and glance at satoru confused, his expression neutral, only with slightly furrowed brows. Then I returned my gaze back onto his father.

His father gestures for you to take a seat across from him and Satoru. “Please, have a seat. There's something important we need to discuss with you.”

After taking your seat, His father leans forward, his tone serious “Y/n, I've called you here because Satoru and I have had a chat recently. And we both agreed that it would be beneficial for all of us if you and Satoru were to get married.”

Oh god, he can’t be serious. “Mr. Go-“

His father continues, ignoring your reaction

“I understand that this might come as a surprise, but hear me out. Satoru needs a partner who can help him grow and mature. And I believe that you are the perfect candidate for that. You come from a good family and have a strong sense of responsibility. You can provide the stability and guidance that Satoru desperately needs.”

“I... thank you for the offer but I-“

His father holds up a hand, stopping you from protesting further “You'll be given the money you want. £100k beforehand and £2k weekly by this idiot here, right?”

You part your lips slightly and your breath catches in your dry throat. You weren’t being serious with that amount, simply stating it because you didn't expect it to happen. You wave your hands in protest as you smile awkwardly “No, No I-“

His father raises an eyebrow, clearly sceptical of your protest, “You were the one who suggested the money. Don't try to back out of it now. I’m offering a significant amount of financial security. Not to mention, being married to Satoru would mean a life of luxury and comfort.”

Satoru, who had been silent until now, finally speaks up. He leans back in his chair, a mix of irritation and resignation in his voice. “Just take the damn deal, y/n.”

“Tch, don't tell me what to do.”

“Why are you being so difficult? we're offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity here. You'd be a fool to reject it.”

You roll your eyes, looking away and sighing. He's right, but it would be hell for you. Get back with the ex who cheated on you with a prostitute..? It’s crazy.

His father clasps his hands together, sensing that you're starting to give in, “If that's not enough, £200k beforehand, £3k weekly.”

“You're serious...? About this?”

“Absolutely. I've already spoken to your parents and they agreed, but do you?”

Satoru watches you intently, waiting for your answer. He's starting to feel a sense of annoyance at your hesitancy, but he tries to hide it.

His father leans forward, “Y/n, you won't have to work another day.”

"You'll have access to the best of everything, a life of luxury, and you'll be a part of a high-profile family. Think about it, you'll never have to worry about money or anything again."

“I mean I already don't... have to worry…” You’re starting to give in. Oh god this can’t be good.

“Yes, but the offer is still there. You'd have more. You know our family is #1 wealthiest in Japan, your family is #50 wealthy. Think about it.”

Satoru can't contain himself anymore, he leans forward, his irritation evident in his voice “Damn it, you're being stubborn for no reason. Just take the deal already.”

You scowl at his words and tone, giving a dirt as you furrow your brows.

Sator glares right back, his irritation at your defiant attitude growing.

“Just take the fucking deal you love money anyway!”

“Fine!” I yell back with a frustrated groan.

His father lets out a satisfied exhale, a small smile on his face.

“Excellent. I'm glad you came to your senses.”

Satoru leans back, a mix of frustration and resignation on his face. “Finally, you gave in.”

His father’s tone became more serious as he speaks, “Now that that's settled, there are a few conditions that we need to discuss.”

He pauses, looking at Satoru, “First, Satoru. You will not contact any of your former lovers or hookups. The public and our family would look down on that. You must maintain a clean image as a couple.”

You scoff a laugh. “Tch. Of course you had prostitutes right after I left you.” He really was a damn sex freak. You can’t believe he didn’t catch on to the fact you knew he cheated on you. What a dickhead.

He rolls his eyes, feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment at being called out on his behavior.

“Yeah, I did. So what? I had em before you and had em after.”

The audacity for him to blatantly admit such a disgusting thing makes you stare at him in both disbelief and disgust. You hid it well, but it did hurt you. It was like as if he poured acid onto your heart.

His father shakes his head, his disapproval evident

“Satoru that's exactly the type of behaviour that needs to change, immediately. You are a part of a powerful family, and your actions reflect on us all. No more of that immature behaviour.”

He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his seat, looking away, “Yeah, I know.”

“Second, y/n, you will be expected to support Sator in every way possible. This means attending family events and public appearances with him, offering him emotional support, and generally acting as a supportive partner.”

“Of course that's basic stuff, I can do that.” You respond softly, and maturely.

“Good, I'm glad you understand.” He clears his throat,“Onto the third condition. This is the most important one.

His voice takes a firm, serious tone “It involves the matter of heirs. You'll be expected to have children within the next 2 years of the marriage. Ideally, a son and a daughter.”

You should have expected that as a condition too.

“This is non-negotiable. We want to ensure the continuing of our family line, and we expect you two to fulfil your duty.”

I smirk slightly as I look down at my lap, “Do I get paid for pregnancy too?” I ask sarcastically.

"Actually, yes. You'll receive an extra £80k for each pregnancy, and £150k for giving birth.”

Your breath hitches once more, he can’t be serious.. “What?” That amount is far too ridiculously huge, even for you.

His father smiles slightly, seeing your surprise. "That's correct. We understand that pregnancy can be a difficult and exhausting experience, both physically and mentally. That's why we're willing to offer additional compensation as a token of our appreciation for your efforts in continuing our bloodline."

“Wait I was just joking-“

His father chuckles slightly, dismissing your protest.“Oh, I know you were joking, but we take this seriously. The compensation is non-negotiable. We want to ensure that you and Satoru have all the support and resources you need to start a family.”

“But that’s not necessary I promis-“

“It is necessary. He’s our only child, it’s only right that we gift his wife and mother of his children. And you’ll be keeping him in check from his…. Behaviours.”

To think you’re actually agreeing to this is mental. If you were to speak to yourself a week ago you’d be laughing hysterically.

“Right.. right. Next two years..”

“Yes, within the next 2 years. We want to ensure that the family line is continued in a timely manner.”

Satoru remains mostly silent in his seat, a hint of irritation in his expression at the conversation's direction.

His father continues, a stern tone in his voice, “It's not solely your responsibility dear, of course. Satoru will also be expected to play an active role in the child-rearing process, but you will be the main caregiver and nurturer.”

I mean, it’s not so bad. But it’s Gojo Satoru who will be your husband and father of your children. What if he just cheated again? How does his father expect you to keep him in line?

He looks back and forth between you and Satoru

"You both will work together to raise your children, providing them with the love, care, and stability that a family should have. It won't be easy, but we believe that you're both capable of it."

Satoru bristles visibly at his father's words. The thought of having children so soon with his bitch of an ex, is far from appealing to him. Yes, he still has a few feelings for you, but not enough to want to be forced with you. Not like this. But he bites back any protest, knowing it's fruitless to argue with his father.

"Also, if you hate each other behind closed doors, expect you both to appear as a loving couple for the public.”

“Yes.. we will.”

"And Satoru, you better stay behaved. We don't want any more scandals that might embarrass the family's name.

You're lucky they haven't seen you with those whores you've met."

He grits his teeth at his father's comment, feeling a mixture of anger and embarrassment at his indiscretions being brought up time and time again. "I already told you, I'll stop those hookups. There's no need to constantly bring it up."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Just remember, your actions reflect on this family.”

His gaze shifts back to you.

"And y/n, I know you’ll keep Satoru in line. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

“I will.”

"Good. I have faith in you to keep Satoru in check."

His expression suddenly turns serious again.

“One more thing, both of you. Absolutely no infidelity after marriage. I expect absolute loyalty from both of you.”

“Say that to him not me” I mutter, rolling my eyes towards Satoru’s direction.

Satoru clicks his tongue at your words.

His father sighs, directing his gaze at Satoru. “Satoru, I expect complete loyalty from now on. No more flings or hookups with anyone else. Your marriage is solely with y/n now.”

Satoru scowls at his father's words but doesn't argue. He knows that resisting is pointless. He turns his gaze to you, his expression a mixture of irritation and resignation. “I understand.”

[despacito-uwu16]

The Exposition

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Forced Proximity | Pining

start Next ->

“I don’t think they’re ready for the fall, had a little, and now she wants more. Told her I gotta make some calls, This just might be one hell of a night”. - The Walls by Chase Atlantic

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

The sports section has always been your favorite part of the newspaper. Reading about athletes making history was so inspiring. This is what ignited your interest in sports journalism. You’d get involved in the school newspaper in high school, almost covering all the sports. You were always on a high, but it came crashing down when you entered college. Entering the Daily Bugle as the only female reporter has its downside. Your male peers would always look down on you, trying to discourage you from touching sports. Quoting your editor in chief, “Leave the sports reporting to the men who take it seriously, and report on something simple, like the upcoming musical”. But you were determined to make your mark in the world as a sports journalist.

You were staring at your computer for the last ten minutes trying to figure out the perfect conclusion for the basketball article. Your eyes wondered towards the time on the upper right hand corner.

4:40 pm

“I’ll finish it during english”.

You shut off your laptop and slid it in your bag

Your evening class is on the other side of the college, and unfortunately, you don’t own a car or a scooter so you have to walk 15 minutes from your dorm to your designated building. On your way to your class, you would usually pass by the baseball field, where the baseball teams begins to prep for the season.

While walking by the baseball field, you hear the sound of baseballs being hit by bats, the whistles being blown by the coach and the players yelling at each other to run.

As you continue your walk down, you hear a baseball being whacked and cheers from other players.

“Way to go Sato”! One person cheered.

You see the baseball fly over the fence, but before you could move out of the way, everything went pitch black.

~

Moments later you wake up in a bright, unfamiliar room. Your head was pounding, and a cold pack was sitting on your forehead.

You try to sit up, but you felt too dizzy.

A woman, who you assume was the school medic, came up to you and helped you sit up.

“What happened”? You ask.

“Isn’t it obvious? You got hit with a baseball. You were out for almost 5 hours”. She said.

“Oh”. You look down, feeling embarrassed.

“Young lady, you shouldn’t be walking near the baseball field. Especially when there’s practice going on. You’re lucky it’s just a mild concussion”. The medic lectured you.

“It’s the only way I get to my class”. Then your stomach sinks. You look at the clock.

9:32 pm.

“Fuck, I missed the lecture”! You cussed in your head. And then the realization settles in.

“FUCK I MISSED THE DEADLINE”! You groaned while you bury your head in your hands. You can kiss your journalism dreams goodbye.

“I don’t care what excuse you have. I swear, you college kids are so careless. As soon as you’re able to, get out of my office and try to find a ride home”. She puts another ice pack onto your head and leaves you to wallow in your misery.

“Well, isn’t she delightful”. An unfamiliar voice says.

You look up to see a 6 ft tall guy with raven hair leaning against the door frame.

“Dorthy is usually snappy at this point. I wouldn’t take it personally”. He enters the room and approaches you.

“Can I help you”? You ask

“I wanted to apologize to you, for accidentally hitting you with that baseball”. He scratched his neck.

“Oh, so that was you”. You glared at the guy while fixing the ice pack on your head.

“Yeah, I guess my strength was too much”. He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You were still unamused.

“It’s a little late, shouldn’t you be heading home”?

“I wanted to know if you were okay”.

“Aww how thoughtful”.

“I’m Kenji. Kenji Sato. Baseball rookie today, baseball legend tomorrow”. He brags.

“Kenji… aren’t you the same Kenji that scored 5 home runs in a row at that one game against Florida state two years ago”?

He smirks. “So you’re a fan”.

“Not really, but I remember it made headlines for the school paper . You’re pretty impressive for a freshman”.

“For a freshman huh”? He laughs.

“Hey, it’s a compliment pretty boy”. You lean back into the chair.

“You know, I never got your name pretty girl”.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N”. You extend your hand and Kenji shook it.

“Well Y/N. I want to make this up to you. Y’know, I haven’t had dinner yet. You maybe want to join me?”

“Sure. What do you have in mind”?

~

“Wait, so that was you who broke the dean’s window”? Your eyes widened.

“No one knows aside from my buddies on the team. Consider it an inside scoop”. Kenji winks.

The waiter sets down a pepperoni pizza down on the table. The smell of the sizzling meat and cheesy goodness reached both of your noses, making both of your mouths water.

You guys ate all of the pizza in under five minutes. More of Kenji eating everything considering his metabolism. A few minutes later, he pushed the dish aside and leaned back in his chair.

“So Y/N, why journalism? Specifically sports journalism”? He interogates.

“I used to be apart of the school newspaper back in high school. Something about watching the games and interviewing athletes has always peaked my interest. If you ask me, it’s better than reporting on politics or school plays”. You sipped on your water.

“Ahhh, so you’re nosy”.

“Y’know if it weren’t for us being nosy, you wouldn’t get your 15 minutes of fame”. You say, making Kenji chuckle

“So, any articles you’re working on”?

“Well, I wrote one on basketball team but I missed the deadline because somebody knocked me out with a baseball”.

Kenji shrunk down into his seat. “Sorry about that. Really”.

“Don’t worry, I usually don’t hold grudges.”

“Well look on the bright side, you got a new story”. He says.

“Aspiring journalist gets knocked out by the famed Kenji Sato”.

You laughed. “As much as that would make a really great story, nobody at that the Daily Bugle takes me seriously”. You sighed, playing with the straw inside your cup.

“How come”? He raised his eye brow.

“According to my editor, and to all the men at the daily bugle, “leave the sports to the men”. You quote.

“That sounds pretty toxic. You deserve a chance to show the world how crazy talented you are with words. You deserve better than that place you’re in Y/N”.

“As much as I want to, I’m willing to stay. I’m very determined to prove myself. Even if I have to get my hands dirty”.

“You are persistent”.

“I prefer ambitious”.

“I like ambitious women”.

“Sure you do”.

~

For the last few weeks, you kept seeing Kenji. He would walk you to your classes, bring you coffee when you had a bad day at the Daily Bugle. Whenever he didn’t have baseball practice, you two would either go out for dinner or hang out at your dorm. There was something about his company that never made you feel lonely.

You came to one of Kenji’s games. Not as a reporter, but as a supporter. Despite being a little sad that the editor will never let you write for the sports section, you showed up for Kenji.

“And here comes number 7, right on the bat”. The announcer says as he walked up to the home plate.

You watched in concentration as he got into position. Everyone’s eyes were on him, hoping he would bring them another win. The pitcher throws the ball and Kenji knocks the ball out of the park.

“AND ITS ANOTHER GRAND SLAM BY KENJI SATO! GIVING THE BUGLES ANOTHER WIN”! The announcer shouts into the microphone.

You cheered the loudest for Kenji as he ran through all of the bases. He made eye contact with you and winked at you, making you blush a bit.

~

You were leaning against the wall of the locker room, waiting for Kenji to come out. All of the baseball players were outside cheering and screaming like animals, celebrating another win.

“I didn’t expect you to come”. You hear Kenji say. He walked up to you, his duffle bag in one arm, and his helmet in another.

“I’m an aspiring sports journalist. Of course I’d show up”. You walk up to him.

“You played well today”.

“Thanks”

You and Kenji walk out of the stadium

“So, any plans after this”?

“Well”… You began to think. “I was thinking about heading back to my dorm, curl up in bed and watch TV”.

“Damn, I was planning on asking you if you wanted to come back to my place, but if it’s that important to you, then who am I to stop you”.

“Well, that also doesn’t sound like a bad idea. But shouldn’t you be with your team, celebrating”? You gestured to the group of men screaming like chimpanzees.

“I don’t usually go out with the team. Win or loose”. He puts his helmet on and walks over to his bike.

“Wow, didn’t take you as an introvert”.

Kenji turns in the ignition on his bike.

“Are you coming or not”?

~

You were at the kitchen in Kenji’s apartment fixing him a grilled cheese and popping a bottle of wine as a reward for Kenji’s hard work. As you set the grilled cheese on the plate, Kenji immediately grabs it and takes a bite.

“Wait, it’s still”- But before you could warn him, the burning sensation has already hit Kenji’s tongue. He yelps at the sudden burn. Tears well in the corner of his eye as he throws the grilled cheese back onto the paper plate.

“You should’ve waited for it to cool down”. You scolded.

“Hey, I’m just really hungry. Cut me some slack will you”? He says, drinking his wine.

“Awww are you crying”? You notice the tear threatening to slide off his face.

“What? I never cry”. He crosses his arms.

“It’s okay to cry every once in a while”. You laugh as you swipe the tear off with your thumb. He leans into your touch as his onyx eyes fixated onto your (eye color) orbs. He leans closer, both of your faces inches apart from each other. And out of the blue, Kenji’s lips landed onto yours. You kiss back, tasting the red wine aftertaste. He lifts you up on the counter, and you wrap your legs around him. The air around you gets hotter, as it turns into a male out session. The next thing you know, he carries you into his room and shuts the door behind him.

~

You woke up with the sun hitting your eyes. Realizing that you were not in your own room and not wearing any clothes, the panic begins to settles in. You tried but there was a strong grip around your waist You turn around to see Kenji sleeping peacefully next to you.

“Oh no, this is bad”. You panicked. If your peers at the Daily Bugle hear about you sleeping with an athlete, they’ll never take you seriously.

You slowly got out of bed, trying your best not to wake up Kenji. As you got out of his room, you were attempting to put your 3 inch heeled boots back on, accidentally kicking the wall in the process.

“Shit”. You muttered while putting on the other boot.

You quickly slipped out of Kenji’s apartment without waking him up, already arranging your ride home.

While waiting outside the apartment building, you remembered what Kenji said, about you deserve something better than the Daily Bugle. Kenji was there for you and now you’re just leaving him. Screw what everyone thought of you. You liked Kenji, and it’s clear that he might feel the same. You went back up to his apartment. When you were about to knock, you noticed the door was slightly open. Peeping through the crack, you see Kenji talking to another guy that was probably his roommate.

“Dude, what happened to you last night? You totally ditched the team again”! The guy asks.

“Let’s just say I scored another one last night”. Said Kenji.

“Oh shiii, Kenji you dog”! His roomate laughs. “Who was it? Was it Tiffany from sports psychology”?

“No”.

“Rosalie from the dance squad”?

“No. Hint: she’s apart of the Daily Bugle”.

It took his roommate a minute, then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“SHIT YOU DID NOT”.

“I did”.

“You do realize people look down on stuff like this, it’s like an integrity thing”.

“I know, which is why that scores me double”.

“But if word goes out, the coach is gonna have your head”

“It’s not like anyone has to know, anyways she ran off before I could officially walk her out. I wasn’t too attached to her anyway”. Said Kenji.

“But don’t you still care about her”? His roomate asks, a bit of hope glimmered in your eyes.

“Pfft no, she’s some that I accidentally injured. I take her out for pizza one time and she still thinks I’m taking her seriously”. He laughs.

You stood there dumbfounded. The whole time Kenji was just using you to increase his body count?

Before you could hear any more of the conversation, you left the apartment building. You entered the taxi, tears threatening to spill. To think that a guy, let alone an athlete, actually respected you. You were stupid to believe that you had someone care about you.

A fire ignited in your belly that day. You were determined to prove all of the men wrong, to prove Kenji wrong. Even if it meant hurting him, and other people to get yourself on top.

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated!!

A/N: I had a posting schedule for the week, but due to wifi issues, posting will be every 1-2 days until I get back to the US

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Tag List:

@imconfusedbutok @deadbydad-writes

@introvertthief @rdjsprincess

@boomboom-tanjiro2019 @moyadorogaya

@holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @lovingyeet

@ofichan @nina-from-317 @lunaryasha

@kocho-catt @scarsw1fe @aphroditis-world

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

[lincolndjarin]

Bewitched Masterlist ⋆.˚

din djarin x witch!reader

synopsis : you have grown painfully accustomed to the silence and isolation of your planet. you like your routine, you like knowing where everything is, and you like being alone. of course you don't really have a choice in that matter but it isn't a problem. you like the quiet. or at least you did until someone quite literally crashed into your life, bringing along all of their noise.

gen. tags : slow burn, forced proximity, strangers to friends to lovers

18+ mdni, no use of y/n, reader is generally undescribed beyond the point of being afab, being shorter than din, and having hair.

chapter one, The Comet, coming soon!! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!! dividers by @saradika-graphics !!

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings // Chapter Index

ONGOING!

read on AO3 💘 read on Wattpad 🦇

Plot: when you find yourself needing a topic for a journalism final, you seek out an interview from Gotham's elusive vigilante: Batman. this proves even more difficult than it already sounds, and tensions rise when you discover an intimate secret—just as Bruce Wayne realizes his own.

Pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

CW: 18+, slow burn, angst (with a happy ending), hurt/comfort, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, forced proximity, fluff, severe mental/physical health issues, canon-typical violence, gritty, multiple POV

Word Count: 190k (ongoing)

↓ chapters ↓

I. “the club within the club”

II. “research”

III. “the alley”

IV. “unmasked”

V. “the interview”

VI. “dinner”

VII. “peaches”

VIII. “as the rain settles”

IX. “goodbye, Gotham”

X. “discernment”

XI. “lying through teeth”

XII. “exceptionally qualified, equally eager”

XIII. “already spoken for”

XIV. “losing grip”

XV. “mutually-assured destruction”

XVI. “sweetener”

XVII. “orientation”

XVIII. “indebted”

XIX. “(im)mortality”

XX. “close call”

XXI. “belonging”

XXII. “gone missing”

XXIII. “desperation”

XXIV. “natural curiosity”

XXV. “Mr. Wayne”

XXVI. “grave responsibility”

XXVII. “tender loving care”

XXVIII. “eleventh hour”

XXIX. “uncanny valley”

XXX. “gut feeling”

XXXI. “deflection”

XXXII. “superglue”

XXXIII. “night light”

XXXIV. “the affliction of pity”

XXXV. “bittersuite domesticity”

XXXVI. “whiplash”

XXXVII. “Luminol”

XXXVIII. “for love”

XXXIX. “why, why, why?”

[cowboygenesis]

1/2 fatum invenit | gale x reader

part 1 of the "fatum" mini-series.

summary: you've loathed each other since the dawn of his first arrival. it never should've worked, but somehow, as you find yourself chest-to-chest within a sunken crypt with no way out, your feelings finally surface— and Gods, do they cut deep.

pairing: gale dekarios x sorceress!durge!reader tags: fluff, angst, tons of cursing, mutual pining, forced proximity, enemies/rivals to lovers. word count: 5.3k notes: whew, here we are at last. if you've read "knuckle up" you might find the ending a little similar but... what can i say, im a softie. also, the durge aspect of the reader is truly very minimal, i just added it for the sake of flavor, whatevah... oh, and reader is super cheeky and generally curses a lot, im case that's something that bothers you. i want this to be a two-parter eventually, so expect some smut in the future chapter. as always, let me know what you think! enjoy! masterlist.

You… you fucking knew it. The one time in your life you decide to give a wizard the benefit of the doubt he… he screws you the fuck over.

It was supposed to be an easy job: infiltrate Kereska’s chapel, retrieve the relic Raphael demanded, and slip away unnoticed. Hey, no big deal— you’ve handled worse without breaking a sweat.

Most of your companions weren’t so eager to take on the devil’s dirty work after a night of drinking, so, you figured you’d tackle it solo. No problem. After all, you’d just returned home to Baldur’s Gate. The evening was warm, the streets thrummed with energy, and after a night of revelry, you were in a damn good mood.

So when Gale, with his calm, holier-than-thou attitude, offered to “assist,” you’d thought sure, why the Hells not?

And what a mistake that would turn out to be for you. Just as your gut had warned you, things ended up going sideways. All because of him.

You both had made it past the wards, the traps, and even those fucked up, undead necromancers that you hated dealing with—no thanks to Gale’s constant commentary on your spellcasting techniques. It was always some remark about how your magic was “undisciplined,” how you were “too reckless to be at your best.” Fuck, like you hadn’t been doing this shit for years, now.

Warranted, you weren’t exactly the nicest person, either. Meals at your camp were a battlefield of their own, filled with biting comments and passive-aggressive stares, often over trivial matters that had nothing to do with magic.

Plus, combat was no different. It rarely took more than a few minutes before you and Gale were mired in a heated debate over the “best course of action for the situation”. Naturally, these debates only added to the tension, making every encounter feel like a personal clash as opposed to a friendly discussion over technique.

You two were polar opposites, discordant, incompatible.

But you were an idiot, then. A dumb, tender-hearted idiot in a great mood who had hoped you two could eventually get along if the stars aligned just right. But that’s all hindsight.

After all the hard work, you had almost had it— your hand was just within reach of that damned necklace, caution thrown to the wind, when Gale decided to get fancy. A small “adjustment” to the magical aura surrounding the relic, he’d explained— something about minimizing risk and stabilizing the flow of the Weave so you could extract it safely.

You discarded the idea, of course; “fuck your tricks,” you had said (your actual words), rolled your eyes at him, and said goodbye to the remnants of your good mood as he reprimanded you like a teacher would a novice— and that, naturally, you weren’t.

Unlike him, you didn’t need a stack of tomes to inspectthis kind of arcane energy. It felt powerful and intricate, yes— but beneath it all, it was just a trick of the eye. The glowing, golden-tinged sphere wasn’t malevolent whatsoever, and instead served as a cheap ploy to repel those tempted by the artifact.

So, knowing what you knew, you reached for the relic despite his suggestion.

But, just as you were to lay a finger on it, he… he cast his fucking “safety” spell. And everything went to hell.

The forcefield around the necklace reacted— wildly. The air rippled in waves, the ground shifting beneath you, and suddenly, you were trapped in some kind of collapsed chamber beneath the chapel— cut off from the rest of the world, with no way out.

Worst of all, you were in heartbreaking proximity. The dugout was deep, but narrow, allowing you maybe a centimeter of privacy before your chest collided with his. And Gods, did that happen often. Any movement you made, your bodies would collide in one way or another, be it feeling his thigh rub against yours, grazing fingers, or smacking his chin— the last one being a complete accident on your part, of course.

And yes, as two magic-wielders would, you tried your luck. As it turned out, the stone binding your bodies together seemed to have a sort of Weave-repellent property that rendered your only functional skills worthless.

So, here you were, stuck with your arch-rival, and with every passing second, your frustration grew. It must have been half an hour since the disaster struck when you finally felt your head pound with frustration.

“Gale,” you sigh for the millionth time, “Are you even listening?”

He’s been doing a great job ignoring your commentary by seemingly occupying himself with analyzing your surroundings. Smart, sure, if it wasn’t for the simple fact he refused to collaborate with you whatsoever. After your initial scream-off, he seemed reluctant to give you the time of day again.

He finally clears his throat to speak, and you shoot him a glare in the dim light.

"You just had to do your thing, didn’t you?" he sighs.

“And you just had to show off,” you retort through a bitter snark.

Gale glances at you with narrowed eyes, yet his expression remains infuriatingly contained. “I was trying to prevent a catastrophe. If I hadn’t intervened, the entire chapel may have collapsed.”

“Well, congratulations,” you snap, “It collapsed on us instead. I’m so glad we avoided a disaster, Gale.”

He exhales slowly, then gives you a haphazard eye-roll. “Perhaps if you hadn’t rushed things—”

“Rushed things?” Your chest flares, making it collide with his. “I didn’t touch a damned thing. You’re the one who decided the Weave needed tuning or whatever other bullshit.”

Gale’s eyes narrow, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “You think I did this on purpose? I made the right choice. But you—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” You cut him off, “Honestly, fuck you, man. If you were half as concerned with doing a good job as you are with peacocking we wouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “Peacocking?”

“Yeah. Peacocking, showing off—Are you okay? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.” You shrug in mock nonchalance, rolling your eyes as if the circumstances weren’t already driving you up the wall.

You feel Gale’s chest rise and fall with a steadying breath, the sort one might take when trying to stop themselves from saying something they’ll inevitably regret. When it came to containing his bubbling rage, he beat you to it every time.

His casual lilt, when it comes, makes your teeth grit. “Obviously.”

You groan loudly, letting the back of your head thud against the stone wall behind you. A tense silence falls between you, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breathing, a sound that seems to grow louder in the small space whenever conversation dies down.

“You would’ve been buried stone-cold dead under the rubble if I hadn’t cast that spell,” he mutters, and just like that, your patience snaps.

“I— I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” Your words are sharp as daggers, eyes burning into his as you twist your body just enough to face him head-on. “The barrier was a ruse, Gale. A fake. I told you not to cast that damn spell—”

“And I suppose explanations are beneath someone of your obvious talents,” he snaps back, his words dripping with venom.

You glare at him, feeling your pulse quicken. “You’re a scholar— Gods, don’t you know this kind of illusory magic is Kereska’s whole thing?” you spit, watching his face aptly in hopes of catching a glimpse of something; remorse, sympathy, fuck, even just a bit of pity would satiate you.

But it never comes. His eyes bore into you with practiced reprimanding, and because he must see you on the precipice of breaking down, he continues to poke the metaphorical bear. “You should’ve waited.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you became the authority on everything. In case you somehow overlooked it, I’ve been doing this for years without your lectures.”

“And look how well that’s worked out for you,” he retorts, his voice low, treacherous. There’s a mocking smile imbued on his face, and you quickly realize it makes you want to tackle him to the ground and claw it out yourself. If it wasn’t for the minimal space, you probably would’ve even attempted it. “This wasn’t some petty street magic. That relic was infused with layers of defense—complex protections you clearly didn’t even account for—”

“I knew what I was dealing with!” you hiss, pushing against the wall for leverage. You brush against his chest again, sending an electric jolt of tension through the confined space. “I didn’t need your over-calculated, pompous meddling. I had it under control until you—”

“Under control?” Gale’s voice rises, his frustration finally splintering through his quiet facade as he emits a burst of scornful laughter. “Do you even hear yourself? Your recklessness nearly got us killed!”

You scoff, pushing back even harder. “You’re so damn smug— acting like the world will end if you don’t micromanage every little detail, but guess what? You don’t always have the answer. And right now, we’re stuck— all because of your fucking arrogance.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but then closes it, jaw tight, eyes blazing as he holds your gaze. For a second, you think he’s about to let loose another lecture, but instead, there’s silence—a strange, electricity-charged stillness that envelops you like a cold breeze.

You can’t speak. It crackles between you with a strain, thick enough to feel suffocating. Every breath you take only draws you closer to him, and somehow, it almost feels like the walls enveloping you have only grown thicker throughout your argument.

The closeness, the heat, the sheer intensity of the argument—it’s all too much, and yet, neither of you looks away once your gazes inevitably connect.

The wizard licks his bottom lip languidly, lips smacking as he seems to be taking you all in. His eyes scan over you, and somehow the fact makes you feel vulnerable.

Finally, he breaks the peace.

“If I’m so arrogant, why did you let me join you?”

His eyes are dark, but not just with frustration; they’re searching, questioning, as though he’s daring you to give an honest answer, knowing it’s something you can’t afford yourself right now.

“You asked me to let you come,” you bark out, pushing his chest with the heel of your hand, the contact sending a spark of heat through your outstretched arm. “I didn’t want you here. I figured we’d get through this, grab the necklace, and go our separate ways again. But no—you wanted to come. Play the hero, do all the dirty work, whatever your reasoning was.”

Gale doesn’t flinch at your words, but his eyes narrow slightly— they flicker to the space your bodies connect at, then back to your tautened face.

His gaze lingers on where your hand presses against his chest, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might back down. But instead, his jaw clenches, and when his eyes snap back to yours, there’s a fire behind them that ignites something deep in your gut.

“And you agreed,” he counters mockingly, the smile adorning his face making your head spin. “Why?”

The question hangs between you for a beat. You falter, mouth opening and closing without a reply.

He’s right. He’s fucking correct, and you hate it.

Why did you agree? You could’ve said no, barked back at him, insulted his stupid wizard frock— pushed him away with one of the countless options you had at your disposal.

But you didn’t. You let him come with you, willingly.

You clench your fists, pushing against the surge of discomfort bubbling in your belly. “Well, forgive me for being an optimist,” you mutter, voice tight. “I thought, for once, that maybe— Fuck. Maybe we could get through one fucking mission without trying to jump at each others’ throats.”

He exhales at your explanation, tilting his head to glance through the top of the crevasse and toward the chapel ceiling. You follow suit, albeit subtly, noticing the intricate engravings lining the skylight; in the dim light of the afternoon sun, they look elegant, beautiful, even. How didn’t you notice that when you first walked in?

“And how’s that going for us?” he asks suddenly, the smile curling at the edges of his mouth turning bitter.

You huff, running a hand through your hair. The condensation sticks to your fingers, and you can’t help the joyless chuckle that escapes your lips when you look at him again.

“Well, I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders lazily. Your cynical laughter shifts into the shadow of a smile. Somehow, as he glances down at you, you find yourself with a pang in your chest that overshadows the frustration you’ve been drowning in— it’s deep, and resonant, and feels like it’s swallowing your heart whole when his dark eyes meet yours. “We still hate each other.”

The wizard exhales sharply through his nose, and strangely, you can’t seem to read his expression even as your eyes squint.

His gaze is fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken; you feel it best when his hot breath hits the sweat-slicked skin of your face as he leans in. It’s a slight, almost imperceptible gesture, yet just enough to make your breath hitch with… rage, aversion— or perhaps, most frighteningly, something else you’ve been pushing down for months since your first quarrel.

You’re forcefully dragged out of your stupor when the pad of his thumb grazes your palm— the touch sends a sharp, almost uncomfortable jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving you speechless as you chalk it up to an unfortunate accident. Nothing more, it couldn’t be.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, and though his tone is stiff, the words cut through your pause like a skilled blade.

It couldn’t be.

Your breath catches in your parched throat, heart pounding with a force that would surely reverberate through his body hadn’t his robe been so thick.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, each shallow breath you take only drawing you closer— or, at least, that’s exactly how it feels in the tiny space you’re being forced to share.

His thumb is still brushing your palm, slowly, gently, and deliberately enough that you cannot ascribe it to a simple accident anymore. For a second, your eyebrows arch and there’s this urge to pull away, something thrumming in your head and telling you to hold to principle.

But you don’t… you— you physically can’t. Not when he’s gazing down at you with… with patience. Understanding, maybe. But why?

A beat passes, then another. The tension coils so tight you almost want to scream to break it, and his gaze remains locked on yours, his palm grazing yours.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper.

“You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours. "You’re fucking with me. I… you hate me, Gale, I can’t—"

He glances down at you with a strange glint in his eyes, then exhales loudly again. Did you strike a nerve?

“Why do you always do this?” he questions with exasperation tugging at his tone. You feel his touch momentarily drop from yours, and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself missing it.

“What?” you blink, eyebrows furrowed.

“This,” He gestures between the two of you with a frustrated sigh. “You’re— you’re always picking fights with me. Always pushing, always assuming the worst—”

“I’m picking fights?” Your eyes narrow, the sneer coming back to your lips like armor. “You’ve been criticizing every godsdamn thing I’ve done since day one, making me feel inferior, questioning my skill— and now I’m the one picking fights?”

He shakes his head sharply, then sighs in frustration. When you look up, his eyes are locked on yours—deep brown with flecks of gold, catching the fractured sunlight streaming through the cracked skylight. You could drown in them, given the chance.

“No, that’s not— That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” He stops himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “You don’t— you just refuse to listen to me. When we fight, in camp— even now. The relic, that barrier, you— Gods, you always act instead of—”

“Don’t you dare paint me as the villain now,” you snap, bumping his chest with the pad of your palm again.

“You almost got us killed!” he bites back, “I don’t care for your talents if it means you don’t utilize them properly. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, raw talent doesn’t equal capability?”

Right.

Your lips purse, the pit in your stomach suddenly overpowering your ability to retort. It was a mistake— you should have known the niceties were a convenient gimmick to ascertain his position over you, and not an actual instance of humanity, for once.

But somehow, your false hopes only drive the wrath within you. You let the nausea overcome you and have it fuel your bitter tone as you finally find the power to speak up again.

“All you care about is being right— about having the last word against anyone who dares question your abilities,” you mutter, challenging his stern gaze with your own, “And the rest of us? We’re just supposed to sit by and watch, grateful to be in the presence of Gale Dekarios, the great, tragic wizard who thought his tricks could satiate a fucking Goddess!”

You’re fuming. The words that come out of your throat are only half-baked as you shrill at him, but… but at the moment, it feels right— warranted, somehow.

So when you catch him give you the space to continue, you take it.

“…But the truth is, you need to feel superior. You need everyone to see you as the sleekest in the room because deep down, you’re still clinging to the ghost of a woman who abandoned you. And that’s why you’ve been picking me apart since day one—because I’m not afraid to tell you how full of shit you are.”

Suddenly, you feel his hand catch your wrist, his grip firm as he holds you still. His thumb presses lightly against your pulse, sending a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness through your body as your arm tries to jerk away.

“You don’t know the first godsdamn thing about me,” Gale growls, his breath fanning your face as the words spill out, thick with venom. “You’re so wrapped up in your own insolence, so blinded by your stubborn pride, that all you can see in others is a reflection of yourself. And trust me when I say that it’s an ugly one.”

You laugh, a bitter, angry sound, but your heart is hammering now. “Oh, so you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

His jaw clenches, but his grip doesn’t waver. “I know enough. I know that your actions speak louder than words. I know that you’re reckless, impulsive, and too damned proud to admit when you need help—”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the heat between you scorching as your breaths mingle. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You’re the one who’s blinded by your own self-importance— always thinking you’re the wisest, savviest person in the room, like the rest of us are just pawns in your little fucking game.”

Gale’s eyes flash with something wild and uninhibited, and you watch his sneer shift into a bitter smile again.

“You— You really think that?” he questions through a chuckle, voice gravelly and low. “Do you really think I’m just using you for some game?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You sneer at him, and the outrage bubbles out again.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. You’ve only ever looked out for yourself. This was never about helping me—it was… it was about proving something. To me, to yourself, to fucking Mystra,” you trail.

The moment the words leave your lips, the air shifts between you like a storm about to unravel. His grip on your wrist tightens, not painfully, but with a deliberate firmness that forces you to stop and feel the tension between you. His face is suddenly too close, and for the most succinct moment, you catch something flickering in his eyes—something dim, and dark—but not the rage you were expecting.

He should be angry with you— Hells, he should be furious. You just tore into every insecurity you knew he had, ripped open wounds that never quite healed, and worst of all, dragged his old lover into it all.

And yet… his gaze isn’t burning with the fever you’ve grown used to seeing from him in every argument, every fight.

Why the fuck isn’t he furious?

“Gods, I actually— I used to admire you. You know that? Before all this, I thought you were someone I could… I don’t know, respect. You were this brilliant, woeful man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I thought, ‘Maybe there’s something more underneath all that.’ I thought we could, I don’t know, actually be something—friends, allies, whatever the fuck. I wanted us to trust each other. But… but you…" your voice lowers to a near whisper, and somehow, unbeknownst to you, your eyes go glassy with hot tears.

You’re left reeling, heart hammering in your chest as your mind races along with your bitter confession. The air around you feels viscous, mucous-like, but when your throat goes dry with impending tears you look up to see something that makes your breath hitch.

He’s listening.

Not just waiting for his turn to speak as he usually does around you, not calculating his next clever retort, but listening— really, truly listening.

His gaze, once so sharp with ire, has softened. His dark eyes are fixed on yours with a vigor that nearly undoes you, and there’s no anger in them now, no resentment.

Your breath catches.

“You never gave me a chance, Gale. Not once. It was always about you, your guilt, your past, your Mystra— Fuck!” you cough out and rub your eyes with the pads of your palms, massaging your vulnerability away. “I tried. I really, really tried. But none of this seemed to reach you, not through that… that mental barrier you’ve created around yourself. I think that since the very beginning, everything else was just noise to you. I was just noise to you,” your voice dies down to a mutter, and you inhale sharply to fight the sorrow back into your grieving heart.

You withdraw your hands and finally feel brazen enough to face him.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks, aware that your nose is red from the tears you tried so hard to hold back, that your eyelids are probably puffy and swollen, and you’re a fucking mess.

But it doesn’t matter now. You’ve come undone, and now, nothing mattered to you anymore; not the anger, not the sorrow, and especially not the way his kind, gentle touch seemed to soothe your aching heart when his palm met yours.

You scan his face, but there’s nothing— or at least, you can’t seem to read it through the coating of tears obscuring your eyes. The light above has shifted to cast his face in a warm, velvety light. You catch the subtle lines etched into his forehead, the faint silver threads streaking through his hair, and his lips curling into… a smile.

Despite your desperation, despite your pain, he was smiling.

Your chest tightens, fists clenching at your sides, and before you can stop them, a stream of hot tears finally spills down your cheeks.

This was it. You braced for impact.

“…So do whatever the fuck you need to fill that void in your heart, but don’t involve me in any of it. And— for fuck’s sake, Gale, don’t act like you give a shit about me because you—”

But you never get to finish.

Before you can witness the gentle glint in his eyes as he leans into you, before you can even register it, his lips crash onto yours.

Your gasp is muted against the softness of his mouth. When he moves, it’s not gentle, not soft, but raw in its intensity and so, so desperate.

His grip on your wrist tightens briefly before finally releasing, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. The warmth of his hand is a pleasant change to the cold, hard stone you’ve been leaning against, and suddenly, just as your mind threatens to flood you with dopamine, it all dawns on you.

You’ve been here before—no, not here, but in moments that feel eerily alike.

You recall the edge in his voice during arguments, the way he’d insist on ‘rectifying’ you at every turn, the blunt critiques you assumed were borne from pure vanity. But now… now there’s a clarity to it all. Worry. Fear. A softness, a hesitation. Like when he would offer his hand to you after a fight, his fingers lingering just a moment too long as they brushed over yours.

You loathed him… Hells, you detested him.

But how deep were you willing to draw the line between hate and devotion?

Against all your instincts, against the sharp, burning ache in your chest—you drink him in. His warmth, his touch, the power behind it all.

You know you should push him away, shove him off, scream, but instead, you find yourself frozen— trapped in the certainty of this moment. And despite every ounce of fury burning inside you, you can’t deny the spark it ignites in your indigent heart as he caresses you so tenderly.

And with that, you seal your fate with his.

Your lips press against his, head tilting until you feel you’re melting into him. He groans softly against your mouth, and the sound makes your chest thrum with a melody you’re afraid to place.

Your hands, trembling, inch towards his chest, but this time they aren’t formed into spiteful fists or an accusatory point— your palms lay lax against him, resting at the junction of his ribs and pushing, pushing… just in hopes of catching the steady thrum of his heart against your fingertips. The anger, the pain, the confusion—it’s all still there, but in this moment, none of it matters.

Just him. Just this.

For all the times you’ve misread him, all the moments you thought his criticisms were barbs, meant to wound—now you wonder. You had mistaken his care for contempt, his frustration for hatred. But now, as his lips part slightly against yours, the world narrows down to just the two of you. No damned relic, no mission, no war; only the benign sensation of his hand cradling the back of your neck, the warmth of his mouth on yours, and the undeniable truth of it all:

You’ve never hated him. Not once in your rotten life.

And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, you want to come undone. You’re tired, hot, melting into this fiery, passionate kiss that has slowly turned languid and gentle.

So despite the zeal enveloping your body, you’re finally forced to part.

When your eyes open, you find him already watching you. A shiver runs down your spine as you drink him in; tousled hair, half-lidded eyes, and the ghost of a smile on his plush lips as the both of you pant in tandem with each other.

He looks wrecked. But then again, you’re certain you do too.

Your face feels flushed, still burning with aftershock and when you bite your bottom lip, you find it swollen. Raw. The taste of him lingers there too, sweet like bourbon and sharp like anise.

You stare at each other. It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time again, really seeing him, and it softens your heart as much as it terrifies your lust-addled mind.

The silence stretches between you, so thick you can feel it pressing against your skin. It pulls taut with every second, coiling tighter, and you can’t stand how fragile it makes your heart feel.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper. “You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky— you’ve never found that aspect of it attractive until now.

You open your mouth, but the words—whatever they are—die in your throat. Instead, all you can do is look at him and fall deeper into his embrace.

There are questions that swirl in the back of your mind, ones you know you should ask, but they slip away the moment his thumb brushes your cheek again. Why did he kiss you? Why did you let him? And why, despite the chaos and pain that’s passed through your mind, did this—he—feel like the only thing that has made sense since you forgot all else?

“I never hated you,” he murmurs and shifts slightly, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I didn’t want to hate you,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought it’s what we were meant to be. Enemies.”

“We aren’t,” The corner of his mouth twitches. “We never were.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and just like that, the fragile walls around your heart crumble. Gale Dekarios, the man you had sworn to hate, has somehow intertwined himself into your very existence in a way you suddenly think might last centuries.

—

As it turns out, the solution to your predicament was surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly straightforward. The anti-magic barrier encircling the sunken crypt could be dispelled by reciting the incantation inscribed on the rock walls— and with Gale’s surprising proficiency in Draconic, it proved quite an easy feat.

After that, it was just a matter of a few rudimentary spells. Naturally, the task took longer than anticipated, thanks to the lingering, newfound tension between you and the wizard— fleeting glances, soft touches, and even an occasional, stolen kiss as you recited your magic; things you surprisingly found yourself quite fond of.

As you step out into the cool evening air, you inhale deeply, savoring the crisp, refreshing breeze. The sunset paints the world in a warm, golden hue, casting long, soft shadows across the cobbled streets as you pass by groups of chattering townsfolk.

“I’ve been thinking,” you hear your companion muse through a playful smile. “After all of this, do you think we could avoid arguments for a little while?”

You meet his gaze with a puckish eye roll, a smile tugging at your still-swollen lips. The warm glow of the streetlights casts his face in a soft, intimate glow, and your smile widens into a grin when you catch his lips bearing that same sign of your carnal affection.

“It depends,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug, pushing against him playfully.

“Mhm, and on what exactly?” he hums, his hand squeezing tighter around yours. When his thumb caresses your palm, you feel your heart thrum with something you can’t quite describe.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, glancing up at him with a grin. He returns it within a beat, and now it’s your turn to knit your fingers tighter. “How much longer are you planning on nagging me?”

He chuckles from the belly, and the coil in your chest that you’ve long expected to be spite emerges as something much larger, softer, and most unexpected. You fear to name it out loud.

You smile when your gaze meets his, the warmth in his eyes mirrored by the softness of your own. He leans in, and the world narrows to the touch of his lips against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that seems to linger in the evening light. In that fleeting moment, all the doubts and anxieties are swept away with his voice calling your name.

“For as long as I live,” he retorts softly, his voice laced with tenderness as the air between you, once again, fills with his laughter.