#he was busy wiping will’s nose for 3 minutes

[chirpsythismorning]

The end of the st vr game being an elmax fest like

[tryingtofindava]

i saw the tyler fic u did where instead of him being impale, it was his gf! do you think u could do that but with aiden’s gf and the ceiling? 🫶

── SHE HIT THE FLOOR! NEXT THING YOU KNOW!

{[AIDEN CLARK X FEM! READER]}

A/N: is the title lyrics from Low by Flo Rida? Yes. Do I think I’m hilarious for this? Also yes.

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

Covering Ashlyn’s ears with your own shaking hands as she trembles from the crazily loud bangs coming from Taylor’s shotgun.

Watching as she shoots the ever loving fuck out of the creepy massive centipede. “… Yeah, uh- Tay, it stopped moving.” Aiden nodded with an uncomfortably big smile, though his semi assuring words fell upon deaf ears.

Giving her a thumbs up as he’s crouched right beside you while you help Ash, having a hand on your shoulder and giving you light squeezes to comfort you or himself, you couldn’t tell.

Taylor upon taking notice that creature is in fact dead…. Hopefully… She lowers the gun as Logan comes up behind her, grabbing her shaking hand soothingly. “We need to hurry in case it recovers.” He spoke reassuringly to the panting Taylor.

Watching the others rummage around the small office while you stood watch at the doorway, was a stressful experience having to keep watch to make sure no phantoms got in and keeping watch over Tyler (who was getting patched up by Ben).

.And no one could find the keys… “Where are they?!” Taylor seethed, slamming shut another keyless drawer.

“Coach must’ve moved them again!” The brunette complained while starting to sigh through another drawer. “Does he move them often?” Ashlyn asked doing her own searching.

“Yeah, because idiots like Jay and Conner keep messing with them!” She scoffed. You would’ve giggled at Taylor being so frustrated for what seems like the first time ever if it wasn’t for your current situation.

You were leaning against Aiden who was fiddling with his army knife, flicking the blade out and flicking it back. “I feel a minor sense of Deja-vu.” He murmured in your ear while smiling to himself. It never failed to amaze you how your boyfriend could always smile no matter what was going on around him. “We have 3 minutes left,..” Logan called out.

Ashlyn perked up at a certain sound her super hearing picked up on, she looked over at you and Aiden. “Guys, there’s a straggler.” Carrot-top warned. Aiden sniggers, nudging you “Yeah, I can hear it running.”

And with that he stabbed the smiling demon monster right in the face, making you cringe at the disgusting squelch sound it made pulling the knife out of the phantoms face. “Got it!” Aiden hummed enthusiastically, skipping over to Ash to show her the black substance it left on his knife.

She of course rolled her eyes, ignoring the blondes antics, her eyes falling back to you. “Is there anymore, Y/n?” She quipped in curiosity.

You peaked out the door, looking left and then right. “Uhhh… nope, we’re good.” You answered, looking over your shoulder at her.

The walls and ground shook, “Huh…?” You mutter to yourself in confusion. “EVERYONE GET UNDER SOMETHING!” You heard someone yell, you were too busy keeping yourself balanced to register anything else in the moment.

POP

The last thing you saw was Aiden reaching out to you, before the ceiling collapsed. “Y/N!” He shrieked, racing towards you. That’s when it all went black.

“C’mon! Get her under the table!” Taylor helped Aiden carry you to the table, everyone crawling under it. Logan, Ben and Taylor hiding under the desk on the other side of the room.

Aiden cradled your body in his arms, rocking back and fourth with he was staring at your face in horror. Blood was leaking from your forehead, and it was also trickling from your nose.

Aiden was on the verge of tears as she wiped the blood from your nose, that’s when he noticed your eyes were wide open and an unsettling grin stretched across your face.

In the real world Aiden shoots up from his sleeping spot, looking around the room until his eyes fell on your shaking form. “Y/N!” He yelled out again. Which caught the attention from the adults in the room over, including your parents/parental figure.

Before he could even get to you, the adults were already around you. Trying to assist your violently thrashing form. You coughed and wheezed, “I’m okay! I’m fine!” You assured the adults, while also trying to calm your heart and and breathing. “-M okay, really…!”

Aiden pounced on you, hugging you tightly, muttering incoherent words while pressing small pecks to your hair and forehead. You leaned into his touch, tears welling up in your own eyes just like his own.

“Don’t scare me like that again.” It was the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so serious…

[chriss-slut]

Pls pls write a one shot abt this. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeVwJ6f4/

Begging

Significant Other

~ Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader ~

Synopsis: basically, inspired on this tiktok.

Warnings: none, just fluff and making out <3

A/N: It's a little short and i don't think it ended well but i tried :) and thank u for the requestt!!

Me and Chris date for about 6/7 months now. We're really affectionate with each other, and when i say really, i mean really. PDA is literally our thing, always holding hands, always glued to each other or even kissing while we're inside or outside. We really don't care about what other people think and if we could, we probably would even hook up in public, yeah...

Anyways... I'm now at the triplets house, I've been here for a week now, and we're kinda having a party. Almost all of the triplets' friends are here. Some of them in the livingroom part chatting and others in the kitchen, eating and chatting as well.

I'm with Chris sitting on the couch, well, I'm sitting on his lap to be more specific.

Everyone is chatting among them while me and Chris are just listening to them. Chris speaks too but not as much as the others. i keep silent cuz i don't know about what they're talking. I've been looking at Chris this whole time. Even though I'm on his lap, we didn't cuddle much today and yesterday so I'm needy for love.

"What's up, babe?" Chris whispers at me as he catches me staring at him, while his friends are talking in the background.

I shake my head quickly, getting out of transe "Uh.. nothing! Sorry!" I say, trying to brush it off, and i look at the group of people talking.

Chris frowns at me, not buying it. "No. You've been staring at me for too long. What's happening?"

I sigh, Chris knows me too well. "Alriight... i miss you, that's just it!"

"Miss me? I'm literally under you!" Chris speaks softly, chuckling softly.

"Not like thaat! I miss being with you, cuddling with you, kissing you... those kind of stuff!" i whisper at him.

Chris smirks at me and leans in to kiss my neck softly "Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've gave you what you wanted!" he speaks softly against my neck.

I shiver softly "I dunno... I didn't want to bother you, I guess." I whisper softly, my hand massaging his scalp.

"You'll never bother me if you want love..." He mumbles softly against my neck. Chris starts nibbling and sucking on my sweet spot in my neck, making me moan lowly and shift my position in his lap, so I'm hugging him completely.

Chris smirks again and run his kisses up to my face, kissing my cheeks, nose and lips. When he gets to my mouth, i can't help but deepen the kiss.

Chris returns the deep kiss and we start making out in the middle of a huge group of people, his hands now cupping my ass and my arms around his neck.

All of the voices in the background fade and the only thing we can hear is our muffled soft moans and the sloppy noises of our tongues and lips against each other.

After a while, our session is cut off by a voice.

"Chris!!! Stop almost eating Y/N and get your ass here!" Nick yells for the - god knows how many - time from the kitchen.

Chris pulls away from me and growls annoyed. "What?!?" He yells at Nick.

"Chris, I've been calling for you for 10 minutes! Are you deaf??" Nick yells back.

Chris rolls his eyes "And are you blind? Can't you see I'm busy??"

Nick rolls his eyes as well "You're busy making out? Did you know you can do it at any time of the day without being in the middle of a party??"

Chris sighs "Jesus Christ..." He taps my ass, indicating for me to get off him.

I stand up and sit on the spot we were as Chris stands up as well and goes over the kitchen.

I take a deep breath and wipe my mouth, cleaning the saliva that was around my lips. I stay zoned out, thinking about our make out.

"Hey, baby, I'm back!" I get cut off my transe hearing Chris speaking to me while standing right in front of me. i look up at him and smile. I move to the side, giving him space for him to sit down next to me.

"What did Nick want?" I speak softly, leaning against Chris.

Chris wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest. "Just a random annoying shit... Don't worry about it, I'm here now" he says sweetly at me, smiling.

i smile back at him "okay, then..." i lean to peck his lips "i love you, you know that?"

"i love you too, baby" i speaks softly, leaning to kiss me again, this time, more intensively.

I hope you liked it!! Pls tell me what you think in the comments, i'd appreciate it :) xoxo <3

[tragedy-of-commons]

"are you crying?" + blade + platonic/familial (found family father figure blade with teen!reader) please :3

"Are you crying?"

Oh no.

Blade's question - if you can even call it that, considering he says everything in that deadpan tone of his - hangs in the air for a stagnant minute and then some.

Maybe if you don't make a peep, don't move a muscle, he'll give up and go back to minding his own business. It's not too far-fetched! Despite how savage and brutal he is in combat, he's surprisingly calm (and daresay gentle at times). Maybe he'll read the room, absorbing your aura wordlessly like Kafka can.

He grunts your name, an edge present that wasn't there before.

...or maybe not.

You break your silence, whirling around to face him, plastering the hugest, most saccharine smile on your face. It doesn't matter if there are tears rolling down your cheeks and a bit of snot sticking to your upper lip (ew). You have to try to get him off your back before something worse happens.

"Crying? I'm not doing that, no, never. You see, Firefly was in here chopping onions earlier," you chirp, rattling off lies like it's your second nature. Well, it is, that's why you got roped into joining this questionable team in the first place - but that's neither here nor there!

Blade looks at you.

You look at Blade.

Deflating and dropping the act, you swallow, trying to retain some of your cheery tone while you sniffle. "Okay, you win. I just... it's been a rough day, I'm sure you know how it is."

If there's one thing you know about your ancient colleague, it's that he can't make small talk for the life of him. You don't think it's his fault, really. Silver Wolf let it slip that he's lost pieces of himself to mara over the years - some days he can't hold functionality beyond a weapon without Kafka's pacifying mind tricks.

So, trying to keep up casual conversation with Blade is akin to yapping at a brick wall. You've gotten used to it, sure, but the way he's looking at you right now - with a pinched brow and somewhat of a snarl - is starting to unnerve you.

Does crying piss him off? You understand it's not a pleasant thing to deal with (not that you expect him to). But seeing him this angry outside of battle makes you want to run and drop off the grid for the rest of your life, abandoning your very important Stellaron Hunter duties and Blade in the process.

You swallow, wiping your face with your sleeve. You can't seem to stop miffing him, because he stalks over to you completely in two strides while you freeze up in muted terror.

Is he going to execute you?! Has he decided to circumvent Elio's rules just to shut you up? Is your pathetic sniveling really going to be your undoing? Will the others have to scrape your remains off the walls and floor, your life forever immortalized as a reminder to keep the waterworks under contro--

He all but shoves something into your limp hand, closing your fingers around it a little too tenderly before sidestepping you like he's been scalded by boiling hot water.

It's soft, and you eventually realize it's a handkerchief. It's the darkest navy can pass without actually being black, embroidered with neat red stitching and obviously made with love. You don't know why he even has something like this - it's not like he ever cries - but you let the train of thought go in favor of soothing your frayed nerves.

You don't think twice before bringing the cloth to your face and wiping the remnants of your sadness away, trying to find your words in the process. Your coworker is now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with you, all traces of perceived anger gone. The foot or so between you and Blade isn't a wide berth, but it's still too far.

"Oh," you manage dumbly, now sporting a considerably drier nose.

Unimpressed, he replies. "I know."

"What?"

Okay, you sense his frustration this time. Blade sighs and wrenches his head in your direction for just a moment, exasperated and tense. "I know... how it is. Like you said."

You tighten your grip on the handkerchief wadded up in your hand. It's strange to hear him converse with you willingly, let alone try to comfort you (at least, you think that's what he's doing). Even so, his admission strikes a certain chord in your heart that's dusty from neglect. You sneak a glance at his figure, and when you meet eyes of burning coal, he returns to glowering at the wall.

Everyone on this ship has been through so much, especially him. You're certain that Blade does know what it's like to have some shitty days; he's probably had thousands of them.

You shrug. "Yeah... um, I figured. Nothing much I can do about it though. Bad stuff happens to everybody."

A lengthy pause stretches on until Blade takes up the mantle.

"You can't do anything about it," he repeats, statement curtailing into a dangerous drawl, "...but what about someone like me?"

Someone like him. Dread and something like fondness washes over you at the implication. The type of person he is - an eponymous sword and scabbard that slaughters on command - cannot fix the type of anguish you're dealing with. He's offering to help in the best way he knows how, you realize slowly.

The fact that he's even offering to shed blood in your name is a bit scary - not just because murder is wrong or whatever, but because he's actively trying to care about you.

No one's ever done that before.

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with Blade?" you joke, grinning genuinely this time, even if lingering moisture clings to your lashes. "Kidding. As nice as the offer is, I don't think your, um, solution... will help either."

You don't think it matters anymore - you're already starting to forget what got you so down in the first place. Perhaps you haven't given him enough credit, because by the way Blade's posture relaxes, he also notices this. No murder necessary tonight.

"Stand tall," he commands, pointedly not meeting your eyes as he pats your head. Before you have any time to process that, he disappears quickly down the adjoining hallway, likely slinking off to shred some training dummies.

You fly into a double-take, jaw practically on the floor.

Seems like you'll have to interrogate the old man whenever you get a chance to wash and return his handkerchief.

As you open up your messages app to text Silver Wolf all the details (with a concerning amount of stickers), your day doesn't seem so rough anymore.

"Thanks, Bladie," you whisper secretly to no one but yourself.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren, @https-sourlimes

a/n: i finally got it done! so psyched to work on another platonic/familial prompt and it's BLADE i'm so sick. thank you for this request! :D

event post here

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader talk about the future

based on this ask, feel free to drop some more too <3 warning: mention of pregnancy / pregnancy scare + vomit

They’d been back from Venice for nearly a month, yet y/n was still feeling the effects of travel. Drew had gotten over his “travel bug” in a week, the worst of it being a bit of a stuffy nose, yet y/n still woke up every morning like she’d been hit by a truck, her back stiff and head spinning with nausea.

“I’m gonna go pick up some breakfast from Claire’s. Usual, hm?” Drew said groggily, swinging his feet out of bed. Y/n turned over to face him as he shrugged on a pair of sweatpants before tossing on a hat over his messy, grown out hair. Y/n grinned and nodded, watching how Drew moved in the early morning sun that peaked through the curtains.

“Alright, I’ll be right back. Love you.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before heading out the bedroom door. Nearly as soon as she heard the front door close, y/n jumped to her feet and rushed into the bathroom, just barely making it in time before she threw up, her head pounding. She ran a hand through her bed head, smoothing it out of her face as she leaned against the wall of the bathroom.

Having enough, she pulled out her phone, scrolling through her calendar to see when she’d be free to go to the doctor this week. However, she could feel her already nauseous stomach drop even further once she noticed the red dot on her calendar from nearly two weeks ago…

“Shit.” She said aloud. She was supposed to have her period two weeks ago. That fact along with how awful she had been feeling the past month, with Drew feeling just fine, caused her mind to race…

“Shit!” Y/n shouted even louder as she started to clamor through the cabinet under the bathroom sink. She had bought a package of pregnancy tests months ago, always paranoid despite the fact that the couple was always very careful… right?

The two of them had talked before, and after getting married, they knew they wanted to have kids. It was something they were both excited about, in fact. But now? When Drew’s career was just taking off, she had just gotten a call-back from a project she was really excited about, a new season of Outer Banks was coming out, and countless other things plaguing their very busy lives at the moment? Now, she wasn’t sure.

She finally found the package, reading over it quickly, before using it. Y/n sat it on the counter, her hands trembling and heart pounding, before starting a timer for fifteen minutes. She stood there, chewing at her nails anxiously until she heard Charleston barking along with Drew’s voice. She had been hoping to be finished before he got back, to ready herself whatever the result may be before she had to face him.

“Breakfast is served!” Drew shouted from the kitchen. Y/n steadied herself for a moment, checking the timer again. She still had about ten minutes, too much time for her to stay in there without Drew coming to check on her. As much as she appreciated his attentive nature, right now she was cursing him and his kind spirit. With a deep breath, she went out into the kitchen. Drew sat at the bar, sipping his coffee and petting Charleston’s head.

“You alright, baby?” Drew said, his eyes scanning over y/n’s tension-riddled body. She shook her head, waving him off as she sat down next to him.

“Just still not feeling well. Headache.” Y/n said, taking a bite of the bagel Drew had picked up. She chewed it slowly, her nausea combined with anxiety diminishing her appetite. She took a sip of her coffee, the caffeine helping some of the pounding in her head subside but not helping in any sort to ease her nerves. Charleston sat his head on her lap, his eyes looking up at her widely. She rubbed his ears, smiling softly as the dog’s tail wagged.

“Did you take anything?” Drew asked, his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

“No, not yet.” Y/n said, looking back up at him. Drew wiped his mouth with a napkin before getting out of his chair.

“I’ll get you some ibuprofen.” He said, heading towards their bathroom. Y/n stayed there for a second, slowly eating before things clicked in her mind. She scrambled out of her seat, running into the bathroom.

“Drew wait—” Y/n turned into the doorway, but she was too late. Drew stood in front of the sink, his eyes trained on the small piece of pink plastic in his hand.

“You… you don’t think?” Drew said quietly, turning to face her, his eyes wide.

“I– I didn’t— I don’t know.” Y/n whispered, feeling her eyes begin to well up with tears. Drew placed the test back on the counter, wrapping his arms around her as she began to cry.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” Drew said into her hair, his hands soothing her back. They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's embrace, the only sound y/n’s soft cries until her phone timer went off. They stepped back from each other, y/n’s entire body shaking with anxiety. She was scared, terrified, of what was going to happen next. For them, their future… their family.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Drew said softly, placing his hands gently on y/n’s cheeks. She looked back at him, her eyes still filled with tears. Despite his stoic demeanor, y/n could tell Drew was probably as scared as she was at that moment.

“No matter what that says, I love you and we’re going to be ok, alright?” Drew whispered, his thumb soothing her tear streaked cheeks. Y/n nodded before looking towards the counter where the test sat.

We’re going to be alright.

Her heart pounded as she looked at the test: negative.

She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding, her body nearly falling to the ground as relief washed over her. Drew hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Oh, thank god. I wasn’t— I didn’t—” Y/n stammered, but was interrupted when Drew pressed his lips to hers.

“I know, baby. Not yet.” He said as he pulled away, still holding her closely. He turned back towards the cabinet, digging for a second before handing her an ibuprofen. She took it from him with a slight laugh.

“Almost forgot the reason I came in here.” Drew joked, shaking y/n’s shoulders gently as they walked back towards the kitchen.

“Thank you, Drew.” Y/n said as they sat back down, taking Drew’s hand gently. He ran his thumb along the back of her hand, smiling back at her softly.

“Don’t thank me for anything. It was almost my fault you were in the situation in the first place.” Drew said, a smirk cracking onto his face. Y/n elbowed him, returning back to her breakfast with a grin.

“Well, hopefully the next time that happens we’re much more prepared.” Y/n said, chewing on her bagel.

“We will. Don’t you worry,” Drew said, kissing her hand softly. “Next time we will be much, much more prepared… and hoping for a bit of a different result.”

[springseasonie]

Auralism Pt. 3 | PJS (M)

Voice actor Jisung x fem reader

Part 1. Part 2. Part 4.

Summary: Your minimum wage job at a cafe brings you little to no joy. That was till an unexpected person walked through the door during your closing shift, making your day a lot more eventful.

Warnings: sexual content, dom Jisung, big dick Jisung, public sex, oral (fem and male receiving), face hitting/smacking (not enough to hurt the reader), fingering, cum eating, almost (actually) caught, face riding, face fucking, deep voice Jisung the whole time, hes very talkative

Word count: 6,3k

A/N: hey (laughs nervously) I haven't posted anything in almost a month ik it's criminal lmao. Life has been beating my ass. I hope you guys enjoy it I suffered writing this. Feedback is loved and appreciated 🤍🤍

He did it. He actually did it.

Jisung did a face reveal.

And God, was he one of the finest men you've ever seen. His big brown eyes, sharp nose, plump lips. If sex was a person it would probably be him. He looked better than anything you've ever imagined and deep down you're glad he was handsome because it couldn't break your fantasy. But now your fantasy could be ten times greater.

And unfortunately for you, it means you'll be all the more crazier. Masturbating to his voice is one thing, but you took a jump and masturbated to his face. Now you're at work, trying to clean the tables of the cafe as you attempted to push the events of the night prior to the back of your head. Very rarely are you embarrassed, but this was a new low. But was it really your fault that the center of all your orgasms just happened to be just as hot as his voice?

You're busy scrubbing the tables when you hear the bell on the door ring. It was the middle of closing and you just wanted to make it home to rest at a reasonable hour.

"I'm sorry sir, we're about to close in 10 minutes," you said, still wiping down tables.

"I'm sorry, you guys are the only people open right now and I really need some coffee."

Your heart dropped as soon as you heard his voice. Looking up slowly, you looked at him, standing there in front of you. "I-I…I.."

Jisung looked at you confused, brows furrowed not knowing what's wrong with either you or him. He watched as you gulped, going a bit wide eyed as you kept staring at him. "Are you okay?"

You were usually really good at masking your emotions from your many hours in this job, but this time couldn't be helped. If there was a list of the top ten embarrassing moments of your life, this would definitely be number one. You couldn't even respond to him, hands trembling on your sides slightly. But you had to pull it together, fake it till he left.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," you said, but he still looked at you worried. "We're going to close soon though."

"I know…but I really need coffee. Is an Americano okay," he asked, voice whining as he begged.

You gulped as his voice hit your ears, growing more and more aroused as you stood there listening. You couldn't help but stare at him in all his glory. He's tall, probably about 5'11 from where you were standing. He's wearing shorts and a hoodie, but he looks to be pretty muscular and in good shape. You watched as he pulled his wallet out the pocket of his hoodie, the way his fingers were wrapping around the object. You always thought he was just hyping himself up for the audios but fuck, his hands were big. Fingers were long too just like he said.

You didn't notice how long you were checking him out until you heard him clear his throat. Startled, your eyes search to look at anything but him. You really want to go home for the night, but making his coffee as an excuse to keep staring at him is a better idea.

"I don't know if you're tired or not but you keep staring at me," he said, giving you a warm chuckle.

You blinked, snapping out of the trance you were in and looked up at him. "Yeah sorry, I'm exhausted," you laughed, trying not to make the atmosphere stiff. "I’ll make you coffee. Just sit over here."

Jisung walked over to the stool, climbing on the chair as you went behind the counter. You began making his drink, not speaking a word as you worked. The lights in the cafe were dim, giving his features pretty lighting. The way the light hit his long lashes and pretty lips turned your legs to putty. You weren't even paying attention to what you were doing, spilling some of the ice on the ground.

Jisung looked up from his phone, brow raising as he watched you scramble to clean it up. Jisung noticed how jittery you were since he walked in and couldn't understand why. At first, he thought it was just because you were tired, but he saw you staring at him, sneaking gazes a little too much. He wondered what was on your mind, why exactly you kept looking at him. You were definitely his type from a looks standpoint too so maybe he should make the atmosphere less awkward.

Jisung cleared his throat as he looked at you across the counter, gaining your attention for a second. "So, are you from around here?"

You continued making his coffee, pouring 2 shots of espresso in the cup. "Yep, born and raised," you answered, trying to keep your composure. "What about you?"

"Just moved out here a couple of weeks ago," he answered, pushing his hair back.

You froze for a second, processing his words. He's been around you this whole time and you had no idea? Of course you would have no idea, you had no idea who he was up until the night prior. But the fact remained that you could have spoken to him at any time, completely unaware that he was the man making your day worth it every night.

"Really," you said, pouring the espresso over the ice. "Are you in school or anything?"

"Yeah, I'm in uni," he nodded. You watched as he licked his lips following his answer.

"What's your major?"

"Computer science."

You snickered to yourself. No one would ever guess he was a computer science major based off of his reddit content. He seemed like a completely different person offline, nothing like you imagined but you liked that. "So you live on campus or..?

"Oh no I have my own place that I rent out," he answered, shaking his bangs from his face. You were too focused on making his coffee to notice him eyeing your body from across the counter. If you did notice you'd probably melt or something, he's very careful with his looks.

"Really? This city is pretty expensive to live in, especially as a college student," you said. "Sugar?"

"Oh yeah, sure," he answered.

You nodded and added sugar before putting the cover on the plastic cup. You placed it in front of him, giving him a small smile. "It's on the house."

He looked at you surprised, but shook his head. "No, no. I'll pay, I'm holding you up anyway."

"Okay if you say so," you said and laughed softly. You started cleaning the coffee machines, throwing the grounds in the trash and throwing the dirty utensils used for the day into the sink. "So," you said trying to fill the silence, "do you do anything else besides school?"

"Oh yeah, I work," he said, sipping his coffee. But you knew that already. You knew his job, and you knew it very well.

"What's your job?"

Jisung glanced at you, who was looking at him intently. He didn't know what to say. Should he tell the truth or just give a vague lie? He wasn't exactly open about his job, but he took a leap of faith the night prior with his face reveal. People were bound to recognize him sooner or later.

"I do a bit of voice acting," he said, taking a sip right after.

"Really? Voice acting and computer science are really different things," you said leaning on the counter.

"Well, a lot of people told me I should try. They said I have a nice voice."

"They were right," you complimented. "It's really nice." You didn't realize how you said it, but your sudden tone change made Jisung quirk his brow. You were really trying to keep it together but the more he spoke, the more memories flooded in your head of every single time you laid in your bed cumming for hours to his voice. You felt your hands twitch looking at the man, his eyes never really leaving your leaning frame as you looked at him in silence, heart and head racing.

"Thank you." Jisung took another sip, but this time it was slow as he kept eye contact with you. The air grew thicker, you looking prettier than when he first walked in as he kept his eyes on you. "I never really asked you about yourself. What do you do besides this?"

"Go to school, write a bit, nothing special," you answered.

"Mhm.."

At this rate, you were probably going to slip up if he kept making noises like that. Sweat was collecting on your temple from your raging hormones – it was almost becoming too much to bear. All you think about it was him fucking you against the counter, hand wrapped around your throat as he whispered nasty things in your ears. He was so hot just sitting there drinking, you felt like a hormonal teenager. Your underwear was not surviving the night dry. You lifted yourself off the counter and went to the sink full of dishes, sticking your hands in the water to clean them.

"What do you write," he asked, typing on his phone.

"In school I do a lot of research reports, but I write lots of fiction in my own time," you answered.

Jisung hit the post button, placing his phone on the counter. However it didn't go unnoticed how yours buzzed at almost the exact same time. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was just a weird thing that happened at the moment, but maybe the thought in the back of his head was right the whole time. Maybe you did know who he was and that was why you were acting weird when he first walked in.

You picked up your phone, checking the notification to see it was a post by the very many sitting in front of you. You read it, reading something about him being bored so there was probably going to be a surprise later that night. Right as you glanced up at him from your phone, he was staring right at you, a smirk tugging in his lips.

"So you do know me," he chuckled softly.

"What? I don't know you." You were completely caught off guard by the sudden accusation. The whole time, you thought you were doing so well in masking it, but somehow he found you out.

Jisung took another sip of the cold drink, gulping as he chuckled at your panicked response. "It's okay, you don't have to be nervous." He licked his lips pausing before speaking. You were clearly uncomfortable with the exchange and he should probably stop, but he wanted to have fun with it. "You listen to my stuff often?"

"I…" You blinked, not sure if you wanted to answer his question. You were standing there in a room alone with him just like you always imagined. So many times in your head, you had scenarios of how you would meet him, but at your job wasn't one of them.

"What? Are you embarrassed," he laughed.

"I'm not embarrassed, this is just not the way i thought it'd go," you admitted, mumbling.

"Meeting me? That's cute, you thought about it," he said, resting his face on his palm. "I never asked you your name."

"Y/N," you answered.

"Well, Y/N, I'm glad that I have pretty people like you that listen."

There it was, his soft soothing bedroom voice that made you lose your mind. You were about to respond when he cut you off unexpectedly. "Do you touch yourself listening to them?"

If life were a TV show, there would be a room full of gasps with no one around. You couldn't even move, just keep squeezing your thighs together like you were doing for the past 5 minutes. You felt small with the way his eyes lingered on you, waiting for you to answer.

"You don't have to answer if you want to. I was just curious," he said, giving you a kind smile.

"I-I do."

He nodded, smirking to himself at your change in body language. Nothing turned him on more than knowing you listened to his voice and came from just that. Knowing he could give you pleasure without even looking at you, touching you, doing anything but speak to you was starting to make him hard. Of course he knew all these things happened regardless but having living proof in front of him made his mind reel.

"How often?" He tilted his head slightly, watching you lick your lips as you looked away from him, wiping your hands on your apron.

"Really often.."

"Like every night?"

"Something like that." You said you weren't embarrassed about it before, but somehow this situation is probably the worst thing that could have happened to you. You felt like you were caught doing something wrong, like he was interrogating you in a way. But you liked it, you enjoyed the feeling. It made every fiber in your body tingle, making you even more excited.

"That's cute," he spoke softly. "Do you have a favorite?"

You looked at him then at the time. It was now 20 minutes past 8 and everyone should've long been out, but you've been entertaining the man of your dreams for a while. You couldn't possibly just kick him out, not when he seems as into you as you are into him.

"A couple," you answered honestly. You were beginning to feel shy answering all his questions, telling him about how privately obsessed you were with him. But you had no idea that every answer you gave him was only making him harder and harder underneath his sweats. Jisung meant it when he says the thought of his fans touching themselves to his voice turns him on. He thought about it all the time, but now that there is a living breathing example of this, he feels like he had to drag this out.

"Let me guess your favorite one," he said. "Alone time, date with you, couldn't sleep, stress relief…"

Your breath hitched hearing the title of the audio you were listening to the night prior. Jisung gave you a dry chuckle, licking his lips as you stood there completely still. The sheer power he had over you was astounding and it sent his mind to crazy places. "You like that one don't you?"

You nodded, gulping at the way he stares at you.

"What's your favorite part?" Jisung's fingertip circles the rim of the cup slowly, questions burrowing into your brain.

"I'm…not answering that," you said quietly.

"Why not," he teased playfully. " Would you like it better if I repeated some things to jog your memory?" He stood up from the stool, making his way behind the counter slowly. You watched Jisung walk behind your counter as you backed away after every step he took. His long legs got to you quicker than you expected, making you lean against the counter as you tried to move away from his large frame. Jisung planted a firm hand next to you, moving your body closer to his as he caged you in.

Leaning down to your ear, the soft tickle of his breath made you shiver. You looked at him, side eyeing the man as you watched every move he made hyper aware of whatever he was doing or saying.

"Does my voice turn you on, hm? Does it make your pretty pussy wet?" Jisung laughed darkly watching the visceral reaction you had to his word. You gasped softly, knees almost going weak immediately as you whipped your head to him, making him raise a brow at you. "Was it that one, or maybe it's an even better line. What about "I know you want my big cock to stretch you good. If I had you I'd fuck you so good you wouldn't remember your name." "

Your mouth parted slightly going dry hearing the words he said in the mic hit your ears in real time. This was definitely a fantasy you played in your head over and over, a reoccurring wet dream that started feeling lucid. At this point you couldn't tell if it was real or fake, if he was actually standing in front of you or if you were genuinely crazy.

"So which one, hm? Or should I keep reciting more lines," he asked, smirk on his face as he scanned your expression.

"Those were fine," you responded breathlessly. At this point, his face was extra close to yours. You couldn't look him in the eyes, afraid you'd fall to your knees and beg him to touch you so you opted for his lips instead. But oh boy, was that a bad idea, because now you couldn't stop thinking about kissing him, his lips all over your body, how they would feel all over your core.

Jisung stares at you, emotions coming to a standstill as he feels his dick becoming fully hard in his pants. This could either go one of two ways: he fucks you on this counter or rubs one out at home. But it's not looking like the second option is happening anytime soon. Not when he happened to be in a situation where 2 of his fantasies could happen at once.

"Do you have any other favorites? I could repeat some more stuff," he said. Jisung licked his lips as he eyed you, watching you squirm slightly under him. "Or maybe we can reenact it."

"Yes," you answered almost too quickly. "I-I wanna reenact it."

Jisung placed his hand on your hip, pressing his fingertips into your side. Your mind went fuzzy, his hands on your body turning your aching core into a pool. You could cum just from his hand on your hip and it wasn't even touching your bare skin. "Tell me which one and I'll make it happen, beautiful."

"7 minutes in heaven," you answer quietly, looking down at your feet. You don't know why you felt so embarrassed telling him about that particular audio, but it was another one you listened to often also. It was one of the rare audios where he showed his rough side, the side that would linger in your head for days to come.

Without a word, he chuckled softly, taking your chin between his fingers and lifting your head. "You're a little pervert, you know that right? Get on the floor."

You kneeled down directly in front of him, pants getting wet from the pool of melted ice from earlier. It hadn't registered that you were doing this in an area where anyone could walk by, where cameras are pointed, but you were far too gone. You looked up at him, breathing heavily as he stared down with hungry eyes.

"Tell me what you liked about it."

"How demanding you were," you mumbled.

He gave you a dry chuckle, licking his lips as he stared down at you. "Suck my dick." You looked up at him, brows raised high as you remained still. Jisung looked at you mockingly, tilting his head when you didn't move. "You can't hear all of a sudden? Suck my dick."

Jisung didn't have to say a word before your hands flew to the waist of his sweats, untying the string. Your fingers made quick work of the knit, but your hands hesitated to go into his pants. You couldn't believe this was actually happening. You were going to fuck the man of your dreams.

"Don't hesitate," he said softly.

You gulped nervously, nodding as you pulled the waist of his sweats and boxers down enough to allow his fully hard cock to spring out. Jisung could tell how numb your brain was at this point, the way you took him in your hands, stroking him slowly. Your breath was shaky despite not doing a thing but kneeling. Jisung wonders if this is something you've dreamt about, something you hoped for. But he no longer has to wonder seeing how you close your eyes, licking and wrapping your mouth around his tip in pure bliss.

Your mouth wrapped around the head, sucking it softly as the small beads of precum hit your tongue. Naturally, you took your hand, wrapping it around his shaft stroking as you sucked him softly. You opened your eyes, lashes fluttering as you looked at the man above you. Jisung watched you intensely, eyes never leaving yours as you bobbed your head. His large hand took a hold of the back of your head, rubbing circles into your scalp as you kept going.

The lights were still on, all windows open on the dark street. Anyone who walked by could probably tell you were on your knees, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was finally being able to make the man in your audios cum like you always wanted. Soon, Jisung's hold on your head became rougher, guiding your mouth lower and lower, more and more. You moaned softly around him, looking up as your brows furrowed.

"Yeah, take it," he mumbled, moaning softly.

It was just like his audios, the soft dominant tone he took to the mic. It almost made your head spin.

"You like having that pretty mouth on my cock?" You moaned and nodded in response, earning a smirk from him. Jisung pulled himself out of your mouth giving you a chance to breathe as he forced you to look at him. "Use your words princess."

"Yes, yes I do."

"Good girl." Jisung parted your lips with his tip, your jaw gladly dropping for him. You stuck your tongue out, taking him while in your mouth and throat. Jisung rocks into your mouth slowly, savoring the way you feel around him. Jisung's moans and groans made you drunk right off his sounds, the only things you're able to focus on is his voice and his cock.

"Look at you," he groaned softly. "looking at me with those big pretty eyes, you're such a good girl Y/N."

He kept thrusting slowly, gradually speeding up making you furrow your brows. You held onto his pants, gripping the fabric as he fucked your throat, sucking him at the same time. Jisung closed his eyes, throwing his head back as his breathing increased just like in his audios.

Your throat tightened around him, saliva messy and all over your chin. His groans and moans were music to your ears, making you want to do more than just a blow job. Just then, you feel a smack on your cheek, not enough to hurt you, but just for the impact. You looked up at him, moaning as he grabbed your hair rougher.

"You liked that? You like it when I smack you," he asked condescendingly. You wished you could answer but your mouth is occupied at the moment. Another smack landed on your face followed by a dark chuckle from the man above you. "You've been dreaming of this haven't you Y/N. C'mon, answer. Oh wait…you can't with your mouth full of my cock can you?"

Jisung kept fucking your mouth at a steady pace, pulling out periodically to let you catch your breath. He was constantly edging himself, moans and grunts becoming louder every time he was close and closer to his orgasm. The scene of you below him was messy. Saliva falling from your mouth, lips swollen and puffy, face absolutely fucked out. He loved it.

"Fuck I can't take this anymore," he mumbled. Jisung pulled himself out of your mouth, giving you a second to catch your breath. "Stand up, I need to taste you."

Jisung took your hands, helping you stand. You instantly leaned on the counter as he dropped to his knees, untying your apron. You took the fabric off your body, dropping it on the counter as he undid your jeans. Jisung pulled them down with your underwear to your ankles.

"Fuck," he said breathlessly, looking at the wetness between your legs. "Fuck, I do this to you?"

You nod silently, a little too turned on to even form words. Jisung smacks the side of your leg, rubbing the spot with his thumb softly right after. "Speak, princess."

"Y-yes you do. All the time. Every night."

Jisung licks his lips, eyes flickering between your face and your soaked core. His breathing was ragged, gulping silently as he just stared at you. "Can I eat your pussy?"

"Fuck yes."

That's was all he needed to dive into your core making you spread your legs even wider for him. Jisung lapped up your juices like a dehydrated man, moaning and whimpering all over your sensitive clit. It wasn't until you looked down at him that you realized he was jerking himself off to eating you out. Jisung flicked his tongue against your clit, stimulating the swollen bud.

"Fuck, oh my god," you moaned softly, voice cracking from the surge of pleasure.

Jisung smiles against your cunt, eyes heavy as he watches you in lust. "You like that, pretty girl?"

"Yes, keep going.."

Jisung never broke eye contact with you, working on himself as he worked to make you cum. You began to rock your hips against his face, his sharp nose nudging your clit ever so slightly making your head spin.

Just at that second, you heard the front door open the sound of the bell ringing in the silent room. In a split second, your hand connects with Jisung's head, pushing him away from your aching cunt. You spun around, looking at the door to see your coworker, Chenle.

"H-hey, I thought you went home for the night," you said. You were speaking a bit louder unintentionally, trying to seem as normal as possible.

"Yeah, but I realized that I left something in the back so I had to come before someone locked up the shop," he said.

You nodded in understanding. You were starting to feel like you could pull it off until you felt Jisung lick a stripe on your cunt as you bent over on the counter. You sucked in a sharp breath, exhaling shakily as you covered your mouth. Thank goodness the counters were so high so Chenle couldn't see the way the younger man was working on your pussy.

"Um, Y/N, are you okay? You look kind of uncomfortable," he asked, looking at you confused.

Jisung moved on from your clit to your entrance, lapping up your arousal. You clenched your jaw feeling his fingers come into contact with your sensitive clit, rubbing the bud in circles.

"Yeah I'm fine, just a stomach ache that's all," you lie. Chenle looks at you, squinting at your unsure answer, but shrugs and walks away.

"You know what's good for stomach aches? Soup," he says.

"I'm pretty sure everyone knows that, Chenle." Jisung chuckles under his breath, lapping at your entrance as he pressed his fingers harder on your clit, making your knees go weak. Thankfully for you, your body was being held up by the counter. "Well hurry up, I want to lock up and go home soon."

"Oh, well I can help you ou-"

"No!" Chenle raised his brows, furrowing them at your sudden denial. "I-I just wanna close alone tonight. It wasn't very busy anyway. I-I can close alone." You couldn't really control the way you spoke at this point, not when Jisung was now rubbing your entrance with his soft fingers, placing soft kisses on your ass. Jisung slowly plunged his fingers inside of you, giving you the stretch you desperately needed.

"Are you sure you're okay," he asks, staring at your flustered expression.

"I'm fine, just a little pain. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Chenle nods, feeling unsure about your answer, but too tired to probe any further. "Okay..if you say so. I'm gonna get my stuff and leave through the back," he said.

"That's fine, just make sure to lock the door on your way out."

You watched Chenle as he nodded and walked away into the back. Watching the door close, you immediately collapse onto the counter, body spent from trying to remain as normal as possible in front of your coworker. Jisung was in awe at how you began to move your hips against his fingers, the desperation in your movements and soft moans. Cunt so wet, your arousal began dripping down his hand. The sound of his fingers moving in and out of you filled the space, your soft whines filling his ears.

"J-jisung, oh fuck," you moaned softly. "I-it feels so good."

"I know baby, I know, but we don't want your friend catching us, do we," he mumbled.

"N-no. I'll keep quiet."

"That's my good girl."

Your attention was split between the man below you and the man on the other side of the wall, making sure he couldn't see you or hear you. But soon enough your focus was all on Jisung who pulled his fingers out your cunt. You whined at the loss of his hand, looking back wondering why he stopped. That's when your body was forced around, back now leaning on the counter like before. Jisung sunk his fingers back into you, fingering you with the same passion as before as he attached his plump lips to your clit.

"Oh my god," you whimpered in a broken moan. Your hand gradually made its way to his hair, cupping the back of his head as you began to move your hips on his hand and face. Jisung sucked you clit hard, flicking his tongue on the bud all while jerking himself under you.

"You're gonna cum for me baby," he mumbled under you.

"Y-yes, fuck, make me cum," you grunted softly.

His moans against your clit sent vibrations all over your body, almost sending you into overdrive. The pleased look on his face, eye contact, his whimpers were far more than you could imagine.

"A-ah, fuck.."

"C'mon baby cum," he mumbled, stroking himself faster. "Cum on my tongue. That's it pretty girl, ride my fucking face. Make me drown in this pussy."

The thought of Chenle being in the back completely disappeared from both of your minds, the both of you moaning and whimpering louder. Your whines and whimpers filled the room as you threw your head back. Jisung fingered you faster, curling his fingers inside of you.

"O-oh fuck, I'm cumming Jisung.." Your body shuddered as you took a hold of his hair, cumming on his fingers and tongue that was flicking your clit even faster through your orgasm.

"Keep cumming baby, don't stop. You're so pretty when you cum baby. Prettiest girl I've ever seen."

Jisung pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt, cum covering every inch of them. He was so fucked out of his mind, he had to taste you. You watched him as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tongue swirling all over to savor the taste of your cum. He sucked his fingers clean, eyes never leaving yours. But he couldn’t get enough of you. Jisung dived right back between your legs, making you whine as you leaned on the counter.

"Yeah, just like that. Fuck, that feels so good," you whimpered, throwing your head back in pleasure. Your hips moved on their own at this point, riding his face once again, grinding down on his tongue as his nose nudged your clit in the best possible way.

"This pussy loves me, doesn't it, hm," he mumbled, chuckling darkly, feeling your hand pull his hair harder.

"Mhm." You nodded fast, brows knitting feeling that familiar storm of butterflies. "Shit, I'm cumming again."

Jisung smiled between your legs feeling your legs shake again as you gushed all over his tongue. He lapped your cum up like a dog, thirsty for more of your taste. "Good girl. Good fucking girl."

"I-I want you to cum too," you tell him, making him chuckle. "Cum in my mouth, please." You and Jisung quickly switch positions, you now being faced with his rock hard cock. You spit on the tip, licking the flesh messily. Jisung watched you, face still wet from your cum as he moaned softly at the feeling of your mouth. You take him down your throat, gagging slightly as his tip hits the back. Jisung marveled in the way your watery eyes never left his, the way you remained a good girl just for him. Jisung's hand tangled in your hair, the tug hurting in the best way as he began fucking your mouth.

"Take it," he grunted through gritted teeth. "This is what you wanted isn't it? Only sluts want something like this."

Jisung fucked your throat more and more roughly as his orgasm began approaching. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, moaning around him sending vibrations through his body. Jisung pulled himself out your mouth, watching you cough and catch your breath. He tugged his cock quickly, tilting your head up for his orgasm.

"You're so pretty for me on your knees. You take me so good, fitting my big cock in your mouth." He was rambling, brows furrowing as his moans and whimpers grew faster in speed and louder in volume. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out making Jisung lose it. He stroked himself fast, panting, getting louder and louder, faster and faster. Placing his tip on your tongue, he stroked himself faster, big brown eyes never leaving the scene below him.

"A-ah fuck, open wide for me, swallow it all." Jisung came, ropes of cum shooting all over your lips, tongue, face, everywhere. His shaky moans hit your eardrums in the best way possible, the visual of him still milking his hard cock making you wet all over again. The man watched you as you took a bit of his cum off your cheek, sucking your finger right after.

"That's the hottest thing I've ever seen," he mumbled between breaths. Jisung was spent, that being the most intense orgasm he had in a while, he was exhausted. You on the other hand couldn't have been happier. Yes, he did just fuck a fan and it's frowned upon, but you didn't care about any of that. You gave him a blowjob while he ate you out at your job. Life couldn't get any better than that.

Rising to your feet, Jisung took your waist in his arm fast. "Let's get you cleaned up. You must be tired," he said softly.

"I-I am." Jisung grabbed a couple of napkins and wet them before turning to you. He tilted your chin up softly, taking the wet paper to your skin. He wiped his cum off your face gently, making sure not to hurt you in the process.

"Fuck, I can't believe I just did that," he rumbled. "I can't believe you let me do that."

"I'd let you do anything." Jisung enjoyed the lust, fucked out look in your eyes. The way you batted your lashes, still just as pretty as you were before getting your face fucked.

He smiled, a raspy chuckle erupting from his chest. "We have to get out of here. I'm sure some people walking by have already seen us, not that I mind."

"I-I don't mind either, but I don't think anyone walked by or even saw us." You pulled your clothes back on, getting fully dressed in the open area behind the counter along with Jisung who was trying his sweats.

"So, about that coffee," he started. "Do I still have to pay?"

You laughed softly, biting your lip softly. "I completely forgot about that."

"I didn't expect you to remember," he laughed. "not when I just fucked every thought out of you. By the way,..." Jisung grabbed his phone off the counter behind you, not breaking his stare. "Give me your number."

"M-Me?"

"Yeah, who else," he laughed. You gave him your number, cheeks on fire as you typed. The man of your dreams not only fucked you, but now has your number.

"We should meet tomorrow. At my place," he suggested.

You nodded slowly, gulping as he took your waist in his large hands. You could feel yourself melting yet again, just wanting to sink to your knees and let him have his way with you. "w-why your place?"

He leaned into your ear, breath tickling your skin. "So I could give you some private audios. Ones where it's just you and me. How does that sound?"

You look up at him, nodding frantically as you feel the space between your legs flood with arousal once again. "G-good."

"I knew it would." Jisung took his phone, placing it in his pocket. "I would offer you a ride, but I don't have a car," he laughed softly.

"I-it's fine, I have to finish anyway. You go ahead," you said, shooing him away with your hand.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. Jisung waves goodbye, walking out the door and into the darkness of the street without looking back. You didn't know you were holding your breath as he left, but you exhaled dramatically, internally screaming at the events that just took place. Never in your wildest dreams would you ever think you'd be in a room alone with the man who makes your audio porn, but things just happen.

You were far too exhausted after standing on your feet all day and having the best sex of your life to continue cleaning, so you decided to just leave and go home early. You were sure you were going to have to hear a mouthful from your manager the next day, it's nothing you haven't heard before.

Grabbing your phone, you shoved it in your pocket along with making sure all of your other belongings were with you before you left. You often didn't bring much with you to work, just anything that could fit in your pocket. Turning the lights off, you walked to the front of the store, locking the large glass door and closing it, finally finishing up for the day.

The only thing you didn't know was that Chenle was still in the back, and watched every bit of what happened through the security cameras.

[jjsbaby]

been thinking about rafe x crybaby!reader with an oral fixation who just loves having his fingers or thumb in her mouth whenever they fuck :( !!

would be lovely if u could write something ab this hehe i rlly love ur blog !! <3

ur so sweet mwah hope you like it <3

“whaddya want?” rafe asks gruffly, not even looking up from where he’s busy filling some sort of paperwork out on the computer. you pull on his arm, moving it so you can sit on his lap. “miss you.” you respond softly, trying to stay still so he doesn’t make you get up. he pulls your back into him so he can continue working while looking over your shoulder. “gimme like ten minutes baby.” he speaks without even sparing you a glance, focusing on some email he had pulled up. you stare at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded. you pout at him, turning your place your head in the crook of his neck. “but i need you now.” you whine, placing a kiss on his jaw to try and convince him.

he looks at you for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “yeah ‘course you do. needy fucking thing.” he grumbles, moving you so you’re straddling his thigh. “i’m working. take care of yourself.” you sit there for a minute, contemplating if it’s worth it or not when you feel his hands on your hips. “fuck did i say? get to it.” rafe begins to grind your hips along his thigh, setting a pace for you before continuing to work. your hips stutter for a moment, taking a second to remind yourself to move the same way he was. you can feel the roughness of his jeans through your underwear, catching on your clit in the best way. you let out soft whines, gaining speed as you chase after your release. you feel rafe begin bouncing his leg beneath you, the vibration adding to your pleasure.

“god. i n-need more please.” you whine, tears pricking your eyes as you need something else to put you over the edge. he scoffs before using his free hand and tapping at your lips, signaling for you to open up. “shut up. this is exactly what you asked for kid.” he places two fingers onto your tongue and you automatically begin sucking on them. you gag slightly as he thrusts them towards the back of your throat. you grind down harder, brain going fuzzy at the feeling of pure pleasure running through you. he fucks into your mouth with his fingers, letting your spit drip down your chin as he makes a mess of your mouth. “thas all you needed baby. just needed to shut up and trust me.” he teases, sending a final email before reaching in between your legs. he finds your clit and immediately starts circling it aggressively.

you moan around his fingers, tears threatening to fall as you feel your stomach getting tense. you grip rafes arms to steady yourself, trying to keep him close. you feel it wash over you, spasming in his arms as he continues touching you. he stops once you’ve completely finished, pulling his fingers out of your mouth. he wipes your spit off your chin, cleaning your face off a little before pulling you in for a kiss. “all better now? gonna sit still while i get shit done?” he asks softly, holding your face inches from his. you nod as you cuddle into him. “remind me that next time i want you to be quiet, all i gotta do is stick something in your mouth.” he points out, lightly pinching your thigh.

[anniebeemine]

A request of comfort/fluff pleaaase. where reader is having a bad day/tired from work so when she comes home she just started to ‘shut down’ (?) not feeling like talking and Spencer knows that r is having one of those days and just takes of her not pressuring her to talk about it. Thankyouu love your work sm🥹

here ya go!! <3

Spencer comes home, the sound of his keys jingling in the door, followed by the soft thud of his bag hitting the floor. He looks around, expecting to find you in your usual spot, either folding laundry in the living room or maybe busying yourself with some chore in the kitchen. But tonight, the house feels unusually still, quiet. His footsteps are soft as he walks through the hallway, searching.

“Hey,” he calls out gently, but there's no reply.

When he finally reaches the living room, he frowns, scanning the space. It's not until he goes to sit on the couch, thinking maybe he'll just wait for you, that he notices the outline of your body beneath the throw blanket. You’re there, lying on your side, perfectly still. Your eyes are open, staring at the wall in front of you, but you don’t respond to his arrival or his presence.

Spencer knows this mood well. He’s seen it enough times to understand what you need. Instead of trying to pull you into conversation, he kneels beside the couch, patting your arm lightly. “I’ll be right back,” he says softly. You don’t react, but you hear him shuffle off to the kitchen.

The sound of cabinets opening and closing, the faint clinking of dishes, fills the air. A few minutes later, he returns, setting a simple slice of toast and a glass of water on the coffee table beside you. He leans down to kiss the top of your head, the tenderness in the gesture almost making you want to cry.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” he tells you in that soft, steady tone he always uses when he knows you're feeling like this. “I’d love if you joined me in bed.”

Then, he quietly slips away, leaving you under the blanket. You hear the faint sound of water starting to run from the bathroom. And that’s when it hits you—a tear slips down your cheek, and you feel the weight of the week pressing against your chest. Everything’s been so overwhelming lately, too close, too much, and now that Spencer’s home, it’s like your body finally feels safe enough to release the tension you’ve been holding in.

You wipe the tear away slowly and sit up. You force yourself to take a few bites of the toast, enough to ground yourself, before picking up the water and heading toward the bedroom. By the time you slip under the covers again, the water has stopped, and you wait, feeling the quiet comfort of the room.

When Spencer joins you, his hair is damp, and the scent of his body wash fills the air—a familiar, calming presence. He slides into bed next to you, settling in with a book. His glasses are perched on his nose, and he rests the book against his knees as he reads.

Without saying a word, he reaches over with his free hand, finding yours beneath the blanket. His fingers intertwine with yours gently, a silent reminder that he’s there, that you’re not alone. He doesn’t push you to talk or to explain what’s wrong. He just holds your hand, offering a quiet kind of love that makes you feel like it’s okay to be where you are, however you are.

And for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe a little easier. Spencer’s here, and that’s enough.

[c0eu4]

OP81 | Overstimulated ♡☁︎

Summary: She wanted to try role-play but she can't take it anymore. He takes care of her after it.

Warning: oral (f receiving), overstimulation, swearing?, fluff

A/N: enjoy <3

MASTERLIST requests are open

Hands tied to the bed, her whole body trembles with desire. Her eyes are filled with tears as she starts to beg him even more.

''Oscaaar... Pleaaase..'' She whines, her body wriggling under his lick.

''I didn't tell you you can cum.'' He looked up at her from between her thighs, his eyes dark from lust. It might be one hour they were like this. Her hands tied to the bed, him between her legs. But she still didn't cum. He doesn't say that she can come.

''Please please please please!!'' She begged him, almost crying from the intense pleasure.

He doesn't answer and keep rubbing his nose against her clit, fucking her with his tongue. What a lucky girl that her boyfriend has a long tongue. He fuck her, stimulating her sweet spot at the same time. He moves away a little, pushes two fingers inside her and moves back and forth, using his other hand to rub her clit.

''You're so tight..'' He whispered to her ear, kissing her collarbone and leaving a few red marks. He plays with her nipples by nibbing it and sucking her breasts.

It was too much for her. She can't take it anymore. Even if he didn't tell her to do it, she can't help but cum brutality around his fingers. ''Oscar!!'' She moaned loudly as her whole body shook and tensed.

''What a naughty girl..'' He takes away his fingers, places his tongue against her cunt and licks her again. He tasted her sweet nectar, overstimulated her. She keeps moaning, but more in pain than in pleasure.

''Uhhg.. Osc-.. Pastry! Pastry! Pastryyy!'' Tears falling from her eyes, she has to do it. She knows he won't stop until she uses the safeword. It was because of herself if she was here now.

He immediately took a step away from her, undoing the knot that tied her to the bed and massaged her wrist red from the tie.

''Sweetheart you're ok ?'' She refound her Oscar. Her sweet Oscar who takes care of her. Her sweet Oscar who pays attention to everything he does. Her sweet Oscar who always put her pleasure before his own.

He takes her in his arms, lifting her up to make her sit against the headboard. She takes refuge in his arms, crying softly against his shoulder.

''I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..'' She blames herself. She was the one who wanted to try. It was she who suggested that they can try this 'little role-playing game'.

''Don't apologize for using this word.'' He struck her back and her hair tenderly, trying to calm her down.

They stay like this for a few minutes, her calming down.

''You want to take a bath?'' He knows how much she likes to take a bath when she's not ok.

She nodded her head, wiping the last few tears from her face. He placed one hand under her knees and lifted her up like a princess towards the bathroom. He makes her sit in the sink, filling the bathtub with hot water. He had some rose and lavender essential oil.

''You want me to tie your hair up ?'' He looked at her, with his lovely eyes that she loved more than anything. She smiles tenderly at him.

''Yes please.'' He approached her, he took his hair in hand and brushed it then tied it into an ugly bun. He peeked her cheek and lifted her up again, making her sit in the bathtub.

He sits behind her, her between his legs, her back against his chest. He keeps her close to him, gently stoking her waist and arms. He kissed her cheek again.

''I love you my princess.'' He said, kissing her hair. She nuzzles her nose into his neck, kissing his neck.

''I love you more.'' Her voice sounded sleepy. He chuckled softly.

''Don't play this little game with me. I love you even more than my sisters.''

She closed her eyes, taking advantage of this rare moment. Oscar is a busy man. He's always in the four corners of the world, and she can't always follow him everywhere. Plus, he's not someone who shows his feelings a lot. Even though she is aware that when he is alone with her, he is no longer the same. But still, hearing her favorite Australian says that he loves her more than his sisters, it's not nothing. Especially when she knows how much he loves his family, his sisters.

They stay in the bath for around twenty minutes, until the warm water begins lukewarm, then cold.

Again, he helps her to get out of it, pass her some fresh clothes and when she's brushing her teeth, her hair and tied it in braids, he changes the sheets on the bed to be more comfortable.

They then go back to the bed, but for sleep this time. She cuddles him, already hearing his little snores.

What a lovely man he can be.

[madameminor]

In More Ways Than One, Part 10 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Crossed

Summary: You just want to restock the ship - but Crosshair has other plans.

Tags: (the series is) 18+ smutty mcsmutterson, porn with plot, basically, all the good stuff

Warnings: P in V sex, 'ownership' mentioned, rough sex (hand on throat, some throwing around), squirting, sensual sex, use of pet names. Top! then soft Crosshair.

Notes: I hope you all enjoy :). People have been asking after this chapter for awhile, which brings me SO MUCH HAPPY! Please share the happy by reblogging. (For real, if you love it enough to ask for more, my dears, please reblog. It brings me such joy - don't you want to bring me joy?? 😭)

Word Count:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10 Part 10.5

“That didn’t count!!!”

Crosshair smirks around his toothpick. “A pin is a pin, Wrecker,” he drawls, continuing down the corridor with you and the big guy in tow.

“But she was WIGGLING.” Wrecker pouts as he follows, wiping some of the sweat from his brow. You smile mischievously, a little extra flounce in your step as you walk.

“You heard him, babe, a pin is a pin. And I’ve been holding back that tactic for ages.”

Wrecker shoots you a look before looking forward again, moving to avoid two oncoming troopers. “Well that’s not fair.”

You laugh. “I’m really just doing you a favor. What if some sexy clanker has you pinned and starts doing the same thing? You'll be so unprepared!”

Wrecker’s eyes open in surprise. “Do they make those??”

“You never know, those Seppies are sly.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively. He goes back to pouting, realizing you're joking.

“Hm.”

You laugh, circling your arms behind his neck and kissing him on the nose. "Sorry, honey," you coo, not bothering to hide your enjoyment. "I won't do it again."

"Hm. You better not," he grumbles as you slide back down.

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair says quietly to himself. You wink at him, then stretch your arms over your head with a contented sigh.

“Oof that shower is going to feel good,” you breathe, rolling your neck. “I think I'll head to the ship, use the fresher there."

Crosshair's eyes dart to yours, irritated.

“What for?” Wrecker asks, equally let down.

"Because three of us need a shower- and I actually need to get clean.” You smile at Wrecker’s crestfallen face. “Besides, I need to take stock of our supplies - since now I know where ALL THAT GAUZE WENT.” Wrecker grins, recovered in light of their combined mischief. Crosshair just smirks. You playfully turn on your heal, starting to head down the corridor towards the ship with a wave. “Don't miss me too much, ok?”

"We'll try!" Wrecker calls after you. He starts back to their barracks - then stops, realizing that Crosshair isn’t following him. 

“You comin’?” 

Crosshair turns his body, eyes staring for a moment at your receding form before fully turning to follow his brother, a glint in his eye.

“I’m showering first.”

Wrecker looks over at him, confused. “Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“No.” Crosshair smirks, approaching the door to their quarters. “I have something to do.”

Wrecker's brow furrows as the barrack door opens before him. “What?”

Crosshair looks at him out of the corner of his eye as he enters, making his way towards the fresher.

“Let's call it some… unfinished business.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sigh contentedly as you step under the hot water for a last rinse. the final suds disappearing down the drain. Clean. Well and truly clean, even for just five minutes.

These moments are sacred. Peace, calm, relaxation. It can happen so rarely as a soldier - especially surrounded by a bunch of large, smelly boys. And battle. And sex.

...

...and then your brain pulls you to the chore waiting outside the fresher walls.

Dammit. Moment over.

Well, the sooner it's done, the sooner you can stop worrying about it. You turn off the water, dry and wrap yourself in a towel, then head to the medical supplies storage unit, already reviewing the list in your head.

You sift through your stores methodically. Hm.

You needed more adhesive spray (dammit, Tech was CONSTANTLY stealing yours!!!! That fucking...)

Good on grav press bandage cuffs…

Good on Medical bandage patch…

Need plenty more Bacta patches - need more glue stat…

Laser suture- where the heck was the laser suture? Did kriffing Tech take the fucking LASER SUTURE???? (You were going to KILL HIM! SADISTICALLY! FOR SCIENCE!!)

And gauze. Lots and lots of gauze. Fucking Hunter. These boys. What were you going to do with these boys getting into your damn med supplies?! Give them a hefty helping of Queenly whoop ass, that's for damn sure-

You hear the hatch start to open behind you, crankily curious to see who was coming aboard… maybe Tech had heard about what you were doing and was coming to give back the fucking laser suture, hoping you would spare his fucking life-

You see Crosshair's silver hair before you see the rest of him, dressed in his armor, but freshly washed. He closes the hatch, tossing his helmet onto a cockpit chair as he makes his way to you. 

You turn, fists on your hips and a scowl on your lips. “You had better be coming to give me some life or death information right n-"

He bends and lifts you by the back of your legs, slamming you against the bulkhead, your towel falling to the floor. Arousal spikes through your shock - god you love when he manhandles you. (He knows you like it, too- dammit, why did you ever tell him that?) His eyes glue you in place with their amusement, his slithering voice wrapping around you like a coil.

"Hello, princess."

You feel your breath catch at the sudden pulse in your pussy. Fuck, that smirk looks dangerous...

"You owe me.”

Wait, what?

“The hell I do! You remember I'm here to replace gauze, don't you?”

“No," he drawls. Damn that smug glint of satisfaction making you wet. Jerk. "You started something the last time we were on this ship.”  Oh, his voice is caressing your skin, possessive and inarguable. "its time you learn to finish what you start."

Crap, more coming back to haunt you. You sputter, trying to find the words to save you. “Cross, that was DAYS ago-”

“I have a long memory.”

“-and, it was only to tease you, which I already paid for-”

You hear the click of his codpiece before it falls to the floor. 

“W-wait, Cross-” you mean to protest, but the words come out as a breathy moan.

“A promise is a promise, Princess.” He purrs, freeing himself from his under armor, eyes hungry and dangerous. You lose yourself to shivers as you feel his cock hard against your back. “And I’m tired of waiting.”

His voice darkens, sending the shivers lower, tightening the possessive coil it holds over you. "And since this is the second time you've riled me up on this ship, I'm going to take you the way I want to. Do you understand, Princess?"

You whine a greedy ascent as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He leans in, purring in your ear. “Safeword?”

“Meiloorun,” you whine, giving in, desperate for him. “Green.”

“Good girl.”

You gasp a cry as he slams into you, sheathing himself in one lengthy stroke. His head falls back as he sighs a grunt, letting himself enjoy the tightness of your slick, unprepared walls.

“FUCK.” He swears before lifting his head, a smug glint in his eye. “That’s better.”

You feel his grip tighten on your ass cheeks as he leans in close to your ear. ‘Hold on tight, princess.’

You whimper, arms wrapping around his shoulders, surrendering, already on the verge of begging him to take you like this-

He pulls out and slams into you so hard you swear you feel the ship rock. 

You cry out with near-painful pleasure, hoping that somehow they don’t hear you outside of this ship - you can’t imagine the looks from the hanger clones if they hear Crosshair forcing his pleasure into you, ripping your begging cries for mercy yet for more from your lips while he grunts his pleasured staccato in your ear. 

“Too big, Crosshair, you’re too b-big for me right now!”

“You can take it Princess. I - FUCK - I know you can.” His breath quickens, nose buried behind your ear, short groans announcing his oncoming orgasm.

"KARKing hell, so tight, I'm already going to-"

Without warning, he groans a growl as he cums, pulling out to spill on the bulkhead behind you. You feel his thrusts, his cock sheathing between your ass cheeks to help him ride it out. You catch your breath as he pants into your neck, until he lifts his head with smug satisfaction. You look at him with your best pitiful eyes, hoping to lessen your sentence, praying that it doesn't.

“S-Satisfied?”

He smirks through his panting. “Hm. That was just to take the edge off.”

Shit.

He turns, still holding you up, before benching you onto his bunk and ripping off his armor. He pulls himself up behind you, crowding you against the bulkhead that serves as a headboard, pinning you there with a hot, hungry kiss. 

Dammit all to hell, all of this is making you so wet, and he must know it. 

With no finesse, no patience, he slides down your body, diving into your pussy like he hasn’t had a drink in weeks, laying waste to every curve and fold. He is RAVENOUS, like he would win the fucking war if he could just make you cum. Its completely overwhelming. You cry out in huffs, you can’t help it, brain barely catching up to the pleasure being sucked through you. “Crosshair, c-crosshair, holy fuck oh GOD.”

It almost hurts with his insistence, but his ferocity only makes you wetter, his ownership of everything you have to give like a fire in your cunt.

Two fingers slide inside of you, pulsing in and out of you at a rapid pace, rubbing against your G spot like he’s trying to beat a record, the lewd sound of your slick as he fucks you making you croon. His mouth sucks your clit hard enough to send your eyes back into your head, hands tangling in his hair. 

“Uh, uh, NNCrosshair! I’m- its too much- its going to make me-”

Its like you’ve lost all control - he’s going so fast that you can’t keep up, your body completely at his whim, so hot, so high; your mind can only lay scattered while your body reaches its peak.

“Ah, aH, Cross, Crosshair!” 

Your cum with an unabashed scream, letting go of any control of your pleasure - and you feel more wet than you’re used to squirt out onto the sheets, soaking your thighs with sticky wet warmth.

“OH shit oh god, Crosshair, I-I think you made me-”

“Kriffing right I did.” His eyes glint with that smug, hungry look again. He pulls your hips towards him, leaning over you to prop himself against the bulkhead, lining himself up with your entrance. “That pleasure belongs to me.”

He pushes into your sopping hole, making you cry out with overwhelm and need, still sensitive from your orgasm, but desperate for another one.

His hand clasps around your throat, tightening slightly as he starts to thrust. You whimper as you look up into his eyes, dazed, subdued, submissive, just for him. He’s panting, eyes boring down into yours. 

“That’s right, Princess, I’m taking what's mine. Your pleasure belongs to me.”

He grits his teeth as he sets a relentless pace, fucking you like it would save his life. You can only lay back, full with sensation, boneless, euphoric, feeling your breasts bouncing to the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. 

Your voice comes out as a whimper. “Yes, Cross, yes, god you’re so big, please don’t stop, please let me squirt all over your cock.”

OH his GROWL as his hand tightens around your throat, not to choke you, just to make you blurry, remind you who’s mercy you’re at. 

“That’s right, my little cockwhore. You love me taking you like this, taking your pleasure all for my own, don’t you?”

You squeak from beneath his hand, his words sending you towards your climax, walls squeezing around him.

He pinches your clit, making you cry out and look back up at him.

His eyes are serious, daring you to disobey. “I didn’t tell you to cum yet. You’ll do it when I tell you. I’m in control here, not you.”

“Y-yes sir. I- AH!” He changes his angle, making you cry out as he thrusts deeper. His breath is more labored. Kriff he’s getting close, so close to giving you all his cum. You want to be so good for him… his good little cockwhore.

“Are you ready to take my cum, Princess?” He demands, already knowing your answer as he speeds up, his thumb finding your clit.

“Y-yes sir, all of it, please, dump all of it in me!” You whimper, your mind lost, spewing whatever comes to mind, whatever he wants to hear, so long as he keeps making you feel like this…

You both cum together with a cry, his a growl, yours a shriek. He grunts with each thrust as he empties himself into you, pushing inside you as far as he goes. He lets you ride out your wave on his cock, his hands flying to either side of your head to prop himself up as he pants in release. He eventually slows, looking down at you, satisfied, approving.

"That's my good girl. Taking my cock so well," he purrs, the thumb around your neck tracing your jaw line as he leans in to kiss you.

"Anything for you, Crosshair" you breathe, unthinking- and meaning it.

Everything seems to slow around you, the two of you breathing together while you come down from your play. He...something in his eyes changes while he pants down at you. Your words... he's taking in your words. You see... that openness from when he let himself cum down your throat, that... click.

You feel the energy change between you.

And slowly, so slowly, he leans in and kisses you.

Its totally different from how he was before. His kiss is slow, possessive, tender - the hand around your neck comes up to cradle your cheek. He lowers his body to yours, propped up by his elbow, bringing him skin to heated skin.

An ember glows in your belly, his kiss slowly feeding it as it glows hotter, and hotter. Your tongue flicks against his lips. He opens them to meet you, his tongue pushing in to dance with yours in his own. Fuck. You can taste his desire, his yearning, as it feeds your burning ember into a flame, flaring with yearning, hunger, need. Your hands find your way into his hair, eager to be close, to touch him more, more, to meld with him, join with him like only lovers can. And you NEED it.

You feel him firming up inside you again as he starts thrusting, as if he can’t help himself. You moan under him, growing desperate, frantic for more of him. You can't pull your lips away, getting swept up in the need to be close, to be closer than close, to have him inside of you as far as he'll go.

“Princess…” he breathes, barely pulling away, his thumb tracing your cheek bone while he moves in you. “Missed this pussy. Missed having you cum all over my face. Missed…” He pulls you into a kiss again, his lips saying what his words can’t.

Your fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer, and he groans into your mouth.

His hips move, but he’s not aiming for the finish line anymore. He pulls away from your lips to look down at where he’s entering you with long strokes, taking his time, his breath ragged. You both watch where he thrusts into you, joins with you, makes sweet fucking love to you the way he wants to. You both moan at the sight. Then he looks up, his forehead back to yours.

“Crosshair…” Your voice is breathy, so full of this feeling he’s bringing to you, sensually taking you one stroke at a time.

His own voice is quiet, caressing you like the hand on your face. “Kriff. So good, Princess. You always feel so damn good. You taste so sweet, I'm so hungry for you all the damn time...”

He buries his face in your shoulder, breath touching sound as he pants his pleasure. His pelvis rubs along your clit, his body so close to yours, your arms clutching him, nails digging into his back while he continues thrusting you into the mattress with long, hard thrusts, pushing cry after cry from your lips. His breathy moans make you clench around him, trying to take him in farther, just a little bit farther.

You feel your crest approaching, slow, but steady - and overwhelming.

"Cross, I’m so close." You could cry with how good it feels.

"Fuck, mesh’la, yes." His own voice is breathy, lost in sensation, desperate with desire. "Need to feel you cum on my cock again. Cum around me, just for me."

"Cross, Cross, Cross," you pant, tears falling back into your hair.

"That’s right, cum with me, precious. Cum with me again. Don't stop, don't hold back. Let me watch you cum for me."

He’s up, forehead to yours, rocking and grinding you right where you need it to send you over. 

You breathe, moan together for a few more moments, connected, devoted, while you both soar up and over the edge.

He kisses you as you cum together, the two of you swallowing each others desperate moans as your lips meet again and again, bodies convulsing against each other as he releases into you, your walls squeezing him for every last drop he has to give.

You kiss until you’re both starving for breath, and only barely manage to pull away. You meet his eyes. They're open, assured, sincere, speaking volumes without saying anything, before his head falls to your neck, slowly kissing his way to your shoulder and resting his head on your collarbone, panting out his exertion. 

Then, amid his panting, quieter than a pin drop, so quiet you almost miss it, you hear him breathe out:

“Ah, cyar’ika. My cyar'ika."

!...

“...Hmm?” You turn, nuzzling into his hair, hoping beyond hope he'll repeat it.

“…nothing, Princess.” He leans up and kisses your forehead slowly, tenderly. He slowly pulls out with a combined groan from each of you. He lays beside you, pulling you close to him, his face nuzzling into the top of your head. You hold him tight, nuzzling in turn against his chest with a secret, sated smile.

You understand. You know what he said with his kisses, his body, but it's not ready to be said aloud, not ready to become a part of your relationship. And that's alright. You drift off to sleep, breathing in his scent as your body molds to his.

Its not time yet.

And you can wait.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake up slowly, unsure if its been hours or minutes, but still swimming in the bliss of your earlier experience. You slowly look up to find Crosshair still asleep, deep breathing guiding the unguarded moment.

He's beautiful.

Peace looks so good on him. You gently brush your fingers along his cheek, taking in this unguarded moment that so few get to see. But you do. Because he's yours. Your Crosshair, your sniper, who craves the touch and comfort you give him, even if he's too proud - or is it unsure? - to ask for it by name.

For now.

You smile to yourself, eyes tracing along his unknit brows. He's yours. And you vow then and there - you'll take good care of this trust he's given to no one else but you.

.....

Jeez, were you going to get more sappy than this?-

-The quiet of the ship is interrupted by your com's insistent beeping. Crosshair’s eyes open quickly, peace falling from his face as he’s instantly alert. You sigh to yourself, rolling over to jump off of the bunk - the outside world calls. You check the transmission before answering with a smile.

"Yes Tech darling?"

“Have you been locked inside the Marauder? Do you need rescuing?” His matter-of-fact-yet-irritated voice makes your smile wider.

“No, just… fulfilling a promise.” You chuckle, glancing up at Crosshair. He rolls his eyes and falls back onto the bunk.

“I see," Tech admonishes. You can practically see him adjusting his goggles. "Need I remind you that it is also time for your next inoculation? They are asking for you at the med bay.”

Ah, shoot. You had forgotten that, and you were the damn medic. You hit your forehead, hand sliding down your face with embarrassment. Ok yeah, that one is on you.

"Also," Tech continues, still a hint of lecture in his voice, "the Commander has been looking for you. He is hoping that you will join him for the next meal. I would quickly compose yourself and seek him out. You wouldn't want him believing the... rumors going around, would you?”

"Alright, alright, I understand." Your head falls back with a sigh. You glance over at your unfinished storage count, wondering if you should take the time to finish your checkli-

Wait just a damn minute.

He wanted to play 'you did this wrong'?

Alright. You'll play.

"Oh!" You start brightly, as if remembering something. "By the way, Technically Jangoson," you continue into the com, words dripping with honeyed venom. "I have a small teensy, tiny question just for you."

Silence.

A throat cleared at the other end. "...Yes, my queen?" The full name. Oh, he knows he's in trouble.

Good.

Your voice turns harsh, your tone angry, and your Queenly control is fully back in place.

"Where.

The FUCK.

Is my laser suture?!?!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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[lorelune]

scrap metal

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 2.5k  || ao3 || -> continued here

Elio sends a new script. A scrap trades hands.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: blade fic blade fic blade fic!!! this is a snippet of a larger au... stray reader and blade (and sometimes kafka too. bc. woof.) mind the tags as always <3 enjoy!!

CW: dark content, captive/pet reader, reader is implied to be a used for sex, violence, minor character death, reader wears a muzzle, descriptions of injury, beginnings yan blade

"Bladie," Kafka says, singsong. "Elio has a new script for us. Looks like we're picking up a stray." 

Blade, who has been inspecting his sword for the past three hours, looks up but does not say anything in reply. He wipes the metal, broken and refused, over with a cloth soaked in oil.  

Another script, another script, another script. Kafka will tell his thoughts to be quiet and he'll follow the script.  

He runs the cloth over the metal. Again 

"What do you mean by stray?" Silver Wolf pops her hip. She's already dressed up in what must be world-appropriate clothing— robes and tassels, sashes tied tightly around her waist  

"You'll see when we meet them." Kafka pats her head, then turns her attention to Blade. "Listen, we'll be leaving within the hour. There's a parcel with your clothing. Don't be late, dearest. I think you'll like this one." 

Blade is sure he won't care either way. A mission is a mission, a script is a script. Regardless, Kafka's words soothe the ever-itching beast in his mind, and he concedes to her gentle command. He hardly inspects the package and its contents before stripping (to which Silver Wolf runs off after gagging), though Kafka remains in the room to watch, amused. She eyes the scars on his body shamelessly as she always does. 

Blade does not care either way. 

... 

You are the stray. 

Blade first sees you, during what would most appropriately be called a 'business transaction', or at least a meeting made under the guise of being one. Kafka has him carry on a silver briefcase as they enter the stuffy, metal room their host had reserved for them. The air curls with tobacco smoke. 

Kafka settles in a plush chair. She dresses finely, regally, even. The long swathes of fabric stretch over her curves and breasts are fine, soft to the touch and smell of the sticky sweet incense that the denizens of the Aiel Lasha binary system covet. Blade is dressed similarly, posed at her back. He does not care how he is dressed. 

He has read the script, up to a point. Just before leaving their home vessel, Kafka darkened the screen of his phone and forbade him from reading to its end. She told him, with a wink, "Listen, just follow my lead, okay?" She sealed her request with a kiss on his cheek, which he bore. He follows her order without question. 

The man they sit across from has you at his feet, kneeling on the gilded, bronzy flooring. (It must be hot.) There's a metal muzzle over your mouth, with slits only cut under the curve of your nose to breathe. It looks cruel but well-crafted. The metal gleams like itas been recently polished. (It must be very hot.) Your eyes are dulled, trained to the floor as the man pets you. 

"The Stellaron Hunters," he whistles and folds two of his hands together. One of the others from his lower set of arms reaches out to pet your hair. Perhaps not petting, more like tugging. Manicured nails dig roughly into your scalp. Blade can see the way you almost wince, almost rise to react, but settle in yourself. “I must say, I’m not entirely looking forward to this meeting. I’m well aware of what you lot tend to bring in your wake.” 

Kafka tilts her head, ever-confident, "Then, thank you for meeting today." 

“How could I not? Your offer is simply too lucrative not to entertain, though you must know that. You know how too...” 

The conversation drones on. The man is laying it on thick with Kafka. Silver Wolf, per the script, needs thirty-two minutes and forty-seven seconds to take down the solar system’s crypto-economic framework. Something about obliterating this planet's economic viability, disrupting in-galaxy trade, and crippling the two-star system for the next several millennia. "baby stuff", Silver Wolf had said, before taking a quantum ferry down to the planet's surface. 

Blade only half-listens to the current exchange, and counts the seconds before this excruciating ordeal can be done with.  

The man pets you more and more aggressively as Kafka swerves his advances. Whatever faux ‘deal’ she cooked up was being superseded by the man’s obvious lust. Kafka is used to such things, even if it's foolish.  

The man takes his frustration out on you. He yanks your hair and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your shoulders shake. 

(Something twinges, deep in his chest. Something that should be dead, but can't die.) 

"How about this," Kafka lays a hand on Blade's lower back, almost startling him. "You give me that little scrap you've got by your knee, and we'll call it even. Everybody wins, hm?" 

The man's eyes widen, before he leans back, belting out a laugh and dragging you to him. He winds your hair around his fist, and pulls your body up, over his lap. Your scramble to straddle him. Eyes dead. Lost. Almost vacant. 

The man grabs your cheeks in between one palm and squeezes over the metal of your muzzle. The others grope your waist, slipping under your gossamer sheer robes. They're hardly clothes at all, Blade realizes. Just sheets of thin, hardly-there fabric. He can see the shadow of your body underneath. Blade itches in his skin. 

"I'm afraid I can't accommodate that request, kind Kafka. This 'scrap' gave me such... trouble," your eyes scrunch, and the muzzle shifts over your mouth. "When I first acquired them. Training them was a hardship, but they're my most obedient thing now. I can't let my hard work go, just for a business deal, can I? You must understand." 

His eyes shift to Blade, regarding him fully for the first time since they entered. 

It’s not the first time he’s been regarded as something lesser and subservient. Hardly. It does not bother him. Not usually. And yet, he jolts and almost summons Shard Sword, but Kafka stops him with an arm, extended at his waist. 

"My companion is not trained, nor does he need to be. He’s a lovely tool, but he has his own two feet." Kafka says. "You really only speak in insults, don't you?" 

The man goes red in the face, and the arms around you constrict. You clearly try to steel yourself. You are trained. Poor thing. But there's only so much you can take.  

The man’s form changes... bursts, seemingly in anger. He is almost melting, half-corporeal as his hold on you becomes tighter. Like a lasso drawn too snuggly over your tummy. 

There's an audibly sickening snap (nothing Blade isn't familiar with, yet why—?), and your eyes blow wide. Alight. Awake. You shove against the man but sink into his oozing flesh. Your muzzle shifts over your face, panic in your eyes. 

The man roars something in a tongue Blade doesn't know and a wet looking... hand, more than likely, slaps across your cheek. He grips over your muzzle, liquid flesh clogging the air slits in the muzzle. 

Blade begins his count. 

"What a tantrum." Kafka sighs, stands, and stretches. "I thought you really liked that 'thing', yet you treat them so roughly." 

Thirty-two minutes and ten seconds 

"They like to struggle, I assure you. I made sure they do." the man says. Blade doubts that. "Besides, I do not need your judgments. I heard you were a wretched woman. I know of your calamities." 

Thirty-two minutes and twenty-two seconds. 

"And yet, you invited me all the way down to your planet for a silly deal you don't have the currency or sway to accept. Pretty bold move." 

Thirty-two minutes and thirty-five seconds. 

The man sputters, something like an excuse, who knows or cares. you struggle in his arms, a few more snaps of bone. Your shoulder may be dislocated. Blade could pop it back into place easily.  

Thirty-two minutes and forty-five seconds. 

The last thing Blade had been able to read on the script was the crashing of the ion grid after Silver Wolf's hack. Everything else from there is in Kafka's hands. Things are clearly going to plan as an alarm begins to blare, screens and projections go alight in the room. Disaster, disaster, disaster. Destruction and all. 

The man shoots them a look, enraged, and the dripping lump of his hand wraps around your throat.  

(The thing in Blade writhes. Violence does not phase him. It shouldn’t. It hasn’t been in a long... long time, right? He remembers— maybe?) 

Kafka draws her weapon and shoots the man in between the eyes. Or what's left of them. Blood and electricity shoot from the wound, spattering over your face.  

You flinch with it and shriek. You scramble away from his body once it melts to the ground in a puddle. You paw at the muzzle, trying to clear the clogged air slits. Kafka, however, is faster and more efficient. She's kneeling by your side in moments, brushing away remnants of a dead man from the muzzle. Blade follows at her heels. 

"Oh dear," she coos, soft and easy. "Let's get this off of you, hm?" 

You shake your head and push at Kafka. You do not know her. This is logical. 

Who is this stray? Blade only thinks to ask that now, but keeps his mouth shut as Kafka cows you enough to let her touch you. There's the whirring of sirens just outside. 

"Bladie, dearest, a hand please?" Kafka urges him and taps the clasp of the muzzle. A platinum lock keeps it flush to your face. more than flush, really. Painfully tight. 

Blade takes the lock in between two (shaking, arthritic ) fingers and crushes the mechanism. He pulls it off you a moment later—  gently— 

(When was the last time he was gentle?) 

Kafka unsticks it from your cheeks, and you let out a gasping breath now that your mouth is free. There are indentations across your jaw, cuts, and wounds all over you, now that Blade looks closely. 

Kafka does, too. She traces an angry-looking scar over your clavicle as you leer away, lip wobbling, "Oh, Bladie, look. You match. How cute." 

You try to say something, but your voice is nothing but a wisp of sound. Your throat must be so dry. Or maybe your voice is unused? Probably both, now that he thinks of it. You look to be in horrible shape— neglected. A stray. 

(Something in him screams. His consciousness is too fragmented and corrupted to trace the origin, other than that it is recessed. A dormant urge, yawning awake at the sight of a scared little thing. Yingxing— Blade— does not care to know. He knows the heat of a forge and the way flesh melts around molten metal and the swift flourish of a blade. He does not know the feeling growing in his chest like a lush rot. Birthed maggots crawling between his ribs. A fungus bloom on the inside of his lungs.) 

His dilemma is so swiftly interrupted. Kafka smacks the butt of her gun against your temple before you can panic any further, and you slump forward into her. Your cheek rests on the cushion of her breast, and Kafka looks pleased. She pets over your hair for a moment and shushes you. There's no need to, you're limp and still. But Kafka does anyway. Blade is unsure why. 

Blade is jealous— maybe. 

Kafka presses a kiss to your forehead, then turns her focus to him, pin-prick gaze all on him, "Could you, Bladie?" 

He complies. 

Blade throws you over his shoulder just as Silver Wolf arrives, dropping down from a vent in the ceiling. This is not necessary, but Silver Wolf likes the flare of these things sometimes. Some days, he thinks it's almost— 

(Endearing.) 

Maybe he needs Kafka to wipe his memory again. 

"All wrapped up?" Kafka asks with a smile. 

"Yup." Silver Wolf unwraps a sucker from their last mission and pops it in her mouth. It's bright green. Her mouth will stain. "The system is irreparable at this point. The infrastructure will be fried too." 

"Perfect, Elio will be delighted," Kafka hums. "Let's get back, then. We have a new pet to settle in." 

"Wait, we're keeping them? Actually?" Silver Wolf circles Blade, studying your slack features and bruised cheeks. "Why is their face like that?" 

"They were wearing a muzzle." Blade answers. Silver Wolf looks shocked that he replied. 

(Blade does not see the way Kafka is looking at him. Conniving, smitten, and so utterly pleased with herself.) 

"Gross." Silver Wolf scowls. 

"Let's get them home, then." Kafka walks lazily to the balcony, taking out her phone to presumably dial Sam and their transport. "Our new pet needs a good bath and a hot meal. Some care, don't you think?" 

Kafka flashes a look to Blade. Something in him twists. 

It makes him aware of you, over his shoulder. You're soft in a way he isn't used to. He's carried many bodies over his shoulder many times at the behest of Kafka. Those were flesh weighs to him. Dead and still. You feel alive to him. The thump of your heart, the pressure of your chest and your breath against him. He can feel the way the fat and flesh of your body curve around him. How you mold to him, naturally. 

It’s familiar, almost? It reminds him of— 

"Listen, let's get going. You can play with them later, once we find out if they bite or not. They may need their shots." Kafka says. Blade cannot tell if she's joking. 

Silver Wolf snorts a laugh regardless. 

And... who's to say if Blade ruminates longer than usual as they board the sky ferry back up to their ship. The alarms and sirens drone on as they ascend, idling in the cockpit as they debrief with Elio's emissary. 

Blade has not set you down. 

He runs a hand up the back of your leg, high up your thigh, squeezing flesh along the way. He drags his nails over your skin on the way back down, and you stir with a whine. Kafka looks at him, knowingly as usual, and guides him to your... room. It should be a cell, probably, but it’s not. 

(Kafka had prepared, it seemed. The room has been decorated, softened, with a plush bed replacing the cheap cot that reeked like petroleum and acrylic. Instead, there’s a gentle, floral scent. The bathroom looks freshened, with a bathtub big enough for two.) 

(There are seven locks on the door.) 

"Listen, set them down, Bladie. Nice and steady." 

Blade does as is directed. You grumble and groan, pressing your face into the sheets.  

"I'll fetch some medicine, hm? You stay with them. Greet them. Be good, alright?" Kafka says with a grin in her voice. 

Blade is not good. He is something awful. 

A high-pitched, breathy sound leaks from your throat as you fumble for the rising lump on your forehead. 

Blade is not good. He does not know how to be good. But he... he wants. He will— be something for you. Maybe it'll be poison, or maybe he will learn the language of the roiling, human thing in his chest that he can't believe still breathes. 

Blade shushes you and rubs over the scar on your collarbone with his thumb. You quiet beneath him, and Blade swears you almost turn into his touch. 

Kafka was right, you do match. 

[justlemmeadoreyou]

satellite | mechanic!harry part 4

"Harry felt like a satellite. He was being pulled into your orbit, and he could do nothing about it."

Summary: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Harry starts acting better, and you have no idea why, but you've got a place to live. He's happier and bubblier than usual, but still fights with you every now and then. But what will happen when his past catches up on him, and it's you on the line?

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: Swearing, a bit of angst, fighting. Some fluff, and mentions of potential danger.

(series masterlist here)

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“You want coffee? Or…” he trailed off after the one sentence, and you raised your eyebrows at him. He was usually more straightforward than this. To the point talk, always.

But today, he was stumbling on his words, and you had no idea why. “or…? “ you suggested, and he slumped his shoulders in defeat. He walked closer to the couch you were sitting on, and placed his arms on the armrest behind, looking down at your drool-covered cheeks.

“Maybe you should wash your face before. It’s difficult to look at you when you have dried drool on your cheek” 

He said, and made a real disgusting face. You wiped your cheek off quickly with your sweatshirt sleeve, and looked at him in disbelief.

“There. Alright?”

He shook his head in a no, scrunching up his nose.

“You know what? Never mind. Go make whatever you want and have it. I have to go and open the garage.”

“It’s 8 am!” you exclaimed, pushing the comforter off you. The floor was cold, and you wiggled your feet in the air.

“Do you…um, maybe have slippers?”

“Duh. I’m not a caveman. In front of the bathroom. And come out fast, I have to take a bath”

“But I was going to bathe first!” you pouted, and he was having a hard time saying no to you.

Especially when you looked like that: hair ruffled and eyes swollen, remnants of tears still glistening on your cheeks. 

“Alright. Whatever. Make it quick. I don’t have all day”

“Thank you!” you squealed, hopping off the couch and hugging him involuntarily. You hadn’t realized what you had done until too late, and ran away into the bathroom as fast as you could, picking up the slippers and towel on the way.

Harry felt butterflies in his stomach.

. . .

Harry treated you better than before. And you had no idea why. Maybe it was because he had caused you suffering on the night of Thanksgiving, or because he felt sorry for how badly he treated you earlier. Either way, you were happy.

“You want coffee? Or…” he trailed off after the one sentence, his eyes avoiding yours as he fiddled with the coffee maker.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden offer of kindness. Harry had never been one to make gestures like this before. "Uh, yeah, coffee sounds good," you replied cautiously, watching him closely.

He nodded, still not meeting your gaze. "Alright, I'll make us some."

As he busied himself in the kitchen, you couldn't help but wonder what had prompted this change in his behavior. Was it genuine remorse, or was there something else going on? You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and appreciate the small act of kindness.

Minutes later, Harry returned with two steaming mugs of coffee and placed one in front of you. "Here you go," he said softly, finally looking at you with a hint of sincerity in his eyes.

"Thanks, Harry," you said, offering him a small smile. Maybe there was hope for your relationship after all.

Sipping the coffee, you purse your lips, watching as he arranged everything back, getting ready to leave for work.

“You need some help?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll leave a key by the door and when you leave, you can sweep it under the rug. I’ll take it from there”

When you leave.

As in you can stay if you want to, I’m off to work.

“Oh–I was just leaving, I’ve got work, too, and, yeah, I’ll leave”

He seemed unhappy by that.

“You can stay if you want, I’m not kicking you out”

Your gazes met, and you couldn’t figure out why he was being so good. Given, it was basic human ethics, but, coming from hin, it was unexpected.

“But–I don't want you to tell me that something has gone missing, and then you would blame me for it, and tell me I’m a thief. You’ve insulted me enough. Plus, I have to go apartment hunting today, and my car’s fixed, so we should end this contact right here. I–I will delete your number from my phone too, and–”

What happened after that was unexpected.

You were rambling, and your eyes widened when Harry approached you and brought his hand to your face, squishing your cheeks together and making you stop talking.

“You talk too much”

He let go of your cheeks, sitting at the chair in front of you.

“Listen, I–I wanted to say this yesterday, but you were tuckered out and I had been an asshole, so I knew you wouldn’t talk to me. And that’s fair, believe me I know. And, I want you–fuck, this is hard”

“What’s hard?” you asked, in awe of the shift in his demeanor. 

“Okay, here it goes–I want you to be my roommate”

“WHAT?!” 

He closed his eyes shut, gulped and nodded.

“Yeah, I–I’ve been thinking about it. I live alone, and my rent just went up, it’s $1400 now, and I need a roommate to be able to afford it. Niall can’t move in either, he’s got this weird living system with his current roommate, and to find a new one, I would have to put up an ad, and with that money, I could buy a week’s groceries.”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“So—?” he pursed his lips, and you just stared at him blankly.

“I don’t know”

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah, I mean…the last time I asked you if you could rent out the place to me, be my roommate. And you responded with cursing and telling me to fuck off, so…forgive me if I’m having a hard time believing you suddenly being good”

“Listen. I know I made mistakes. But last night made me realize I shouldn’t have been so awful. I should have treated you better. You were in trouble and all I did was lash out and curse at you, when I should have helped you out. So if my long-ass speech doesn’t convince you, I have no idea what will. So you can take it or leave it.”

And he’s back at it again.

“Alright, fine! I’ll take it. I’ll need a day or two to move my stuff here. I have a bed and –if you have a spare room I can move in there. Or I can sleep on the couch and not move the bed. I will pay you 700 dollars on the 1st of each month. We can buy groceries and other stuff alternatively. Do you know how to cook?”

He shook his head in a no.

“Okay, then I can do the cooking, you do the dishes and cleaning. Laundry–we can do that separately. And–”

You looked up, thinking of other things.

“I think that’s alright for now”

“Okay”

You both left, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole day.

. . .

"I found a place!" you happily told Mia, and she smiled.

"That's fantastic news!" Mia exclaimed, giving you a congratulatory hug. "But wait, who are you moving in with? I thought you hadn't found a roommate yet."

You hesitated, unsure of how to break the news to Mia. "Well, it's... uh, someone I met recently. It’s the mechanic from–the garage. He's offering a spare room in his apartment."

“NIALL?!!” she exclaimed.

“No, uh, it’s the other one–the grumpy one, Harry”

Mia's expression turned thoughtful as she processed this information. "Hmm, are you sure about this? Moving in with someone you barely know could be risky."

You nodded, feeling a twinge of uncertainty. "I know, but I've been looking for a place for so long, and this just seems like the best option right now. Besides, it's not like I have many other choices."

Mia frowned, clearly concerned for your well-being. "Well, just promise me you'll be careful, okay? And if anything feels off, don't hesitate to reach out to me or someone else."

You smiled gratefully at Mia's concern, feeling reassured by her words. "Thanks, Mia. I'll definitely keep that in mind. And hey, if you're free this weekend, maybe you could help me with the move?"

"Of course!" Mia replied, her expression brightening. 

You worked with ease, knowing she had your back. She would also get to see his apartment, and could tell you if she felt something off.

Or if he was a serial killer.

. . . 

Harry Styles was not a morning person. In fact, he barely qualified as a person before his first cup of coffee kicked in. So when his new roommate, you, came bounding into the kitchen at 7 AM with a bright "Good morning!" he merely grunted in response. 

You didn't seem deterred by his gruff demeanor as you flitted around the kitchen, humming a cheery tune. Harry tried his best to ignore your incessant perkiness and the significant energy in the morning, sipping his black coffee in brooding silence. He seemed to have already regretted letting you live with him. You were up at 6:30 every day. Harry liked waking up early too, but all he did was drink coffee, take a shower, make a boring sandwich, and get off to work. But you, you did yoga in the morning. He never understood how you got the ample energy to do all the stretching and working out. Sure, he worked out too. But, it was mostly at night. There were lesser people to deal with, and even lesser to work out alongside. He would groan whenever he would see your face in the morning: telling you to avoid seeing him at all, because seeing your face jinxed his day.

As a mechanic at the local auto shop, Harry spent his days covered in grease and dealing with demanding customers. The last thing he wanted when he got home was more chaos and noise. You, however, seemed determined to inject as much light and life into your shared flat as possible.

A few days into living together, you had a day off. You were bored, so you decided to bake some cupcakes, using the recipe you remembered from your mother.

The batch you made was huge, and there was no way you would be able to eat all of it by yourself. So, you decided to pay Harry a visit. He was already annoyed by you even when you did nothing. So, why not give him something to be grumpy about?

You arrived at his shop about an hour later, carrying a pretty pink box. "I brought you some cupcakes, roomie!" you chirped, setting the box down in front of him. "Vanilla with chocolate frosting, your favorite!"

Harry eyed the confections warily. "I didn't ask for those," he mumbled, even as his mouth watered at the delicious aroma. 

"Well, I just thought you could use something sweet after a long day," you replied with a kind smile, completely unfazed by his standoffishness.

Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and Harry tried one of the cupcakes, his eyes fluttering closed at the sweet goodness. "S'not bad," he said, reluctantly.

You giggled at his grumpy antics. "You're very welcome, grumpy mechanic."

As the weeks went on, these little acts of kindness from you became more frequent. You'd leave him encouraging notes on the bathroom mirror, make sure his favorite beer was always stocked in the fridge, and even attempted to liven up his all-black wardrobe by slipping a bright yellow shirt into his laundry ("For a pop of sunshine!" you'd insisted).

Niall would tease him about it. He knew Harry hated happiness and smiles, and he was now living with one.

“So, how are you doing? We never talk anymore”

He nudged, already biting back a smile.

“Eh, it’s alright. You know, Y/n brought flowers for the vases in my house yesterday–”

“Your and her house” he corrected, but Harry rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. Whatever. So, she brought flowers for the vases yesterday. And when I told her they were meant to be empty, she said, They look better with life in them. " Unlike you””

Niall threw his head back, laughing, while Harry tightened the big screw with a wrench.

“You know, I only put up with her because she cooks for me”

This time, Niall rolled his eyes.

“No, you don’t. You like her, that’s why you keep her around. I could cook too, but you wouldn’t have me as your roommate, would you?”

“A-Um, that–that’s not true”

“Sure, big guy.”

Harry would roll his eyes and grumble about you being too chipper for your own good. But in truth, he was starting to enjoy having someone to come home to, even if you did insist on filling their flat with obscene amounts of throw pillows and scented candles and flowers.

It was...oddly endearing, Harry had to admit. And it definitely didn't hurt that you were absolutely gorgeous, all bright eyes and cute cheeks and curves in all the right places. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, of course.

Harry felt like a satellite. He was being pulled into your orbit, and he could do nothing about it.

As the weeks turned into months of living together, Harry began to crave coming home to your comforting presence at the end of each day. Sure, you drove him a bit mad with your perky energy and insistence on doing thoughtful little things for him. Like showing up at the garage on your day off with a bagged lunch for him and the guys. Or texting him obnoxiously and making him bring you all the snacks he hated.

Niall and his other coworkers loved to give him endless shite about how "whipped" he was, but Harry couldn't find it in himself to care. He loved the way you took care of him, even if he pretended to be grumpy about it. In truth, no one had ever bothered to do those types of things for him before. And from you, it didn't feel like nagging or an insult to his independence. It just felt...nice. To have someone who seemed to inherently understand what he needed, even before he knew it himself.

So maybe he was a little "whipped," letting the girl work her way under his prickly exterior and into his heavily guarded heart. But as Harry watched you laugh as you talked to someone on the phone, with a smile that could light up the whole sky, he couldn't find it in himself to care.

You were going on a date.

It was with a guy named Matt. He was a barista, or so he had told you over text. Niall never asked you out for a third date, and he seemed to be acting differently around you ever since you moved in with Harry. Maybe he met someone when he was back home, and didn’t like you now. Or he wasn’t completely alright with you living with Harry and dating him.

This was a conversation to be had soon.

You had called Matt to your place, after which you would go to a place of your choosing. He seemed okay with that, and you had texted him your address earlier that day.

But Harry didn’t like it.

You stood in front of the mirror, smoothening down your skirt and rubbing your lips together. Harry was standing leaning on the doorway all along, annoyed and angry at you at the same time.

"Are you serious?" he exclaimed after a while, his voice laced with annoyance. "You're bringing a date here? In our place?"

You bristled at his accusatory tone, feeling the need to defend your actions. "Why not?It's my home too, Harry. I have every right to have a date here if I want to."

Harry's jaw clenched, his frustration evident as he struggled to contain his temper. "But you know how I feel about this," he argued, his voice rising with each word. "I don't want strangers coming in here, especially not when I'm around."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to put my life on hold just because you're uncomfortable," you shot back, your own anger rising to match his. "I have every right to live my life the way I want to, Harry, whether you like it or not."

As the tension from the argument with Harry still lingered in the air, Matt arrived. His arrival broke the tension in the room, and you greeted him with a forced smile, hoping to mask the unease that was just in here moments ago.

However, as Matt stepped into the apartment, Harry's suspicion grew even more. He eyed him suspiciously, his jaw clenching and you could sense that Matt was getting uncomfortable.

“Harry-” you said, an octave too loud. He looked at you, his gaze shifting from him to you.

“What?”

“Leave” you said firmly, and he still didn’t move an inch.

"Y/N, You look amazing," he complimented you warmly, holding out a bouquet of flowers. 

"Aw, thank you! You shouldn't have," you replied, hoping the flush in your cheeks wasn't too obvious as you accepted the bouquet. It had been a while since someone gave you a bouquet.

"Matt, this is my roommate, Harry. Harry, this is Matt."

The two men eyed each other warily, the air practically crackling with hostility. Matt offered a friendly smile and an outstretched hand.

"Nice to meet you, mate."

Harry simply glowered at him, making no move to reciprocate the handshake. You shot him a pointed look, but he remained stonily unmoving.

"Uh, should we get going then?" Matt asked after an awkward beat, clearly picking up on Harry's cold demeanor.

"You know, we could just hang out here for a bit if you'd like?" you suggested in a desperate attempt to smooth things over.

You immediately regretted the words as Harry's glare intensified. Matt shook his head quickly.

"No, no, that's alright. The dinner reservation is probably best," he said, shooting Harry a wary look.

"Sounds good," you replied in a strained voice, grabbing your purse. You paused in front of Harry once more. "Try to be civil, okay?"

He said nothing, his jaw clenched stubbornly as he stared at you down. With a huff of frustration, you turned and followed Matt out of the apartment, leaving your roommate's sour mood behind.

But even after you'd gone, Harry couldn't seem to shake his foul temper. He stalked back over to the couch, throwing himself down as a wave of sadness rolled through him/.

He should've been happy for you, shouldn't he? Going on a normal date like anyone else your age? So why did he feel so irrationally angry and resentful about the whole situation?

Harry scrubbed his hands down his face roughly, wishing he could simply be supportive and let you enjoy yourself for once. But the twist of jealousy and protectiveness in his gut was making that impossible.

All he knew was that the thought of you out with another bloke tonight left an incredibly bitter taste in his mouth - and there was nothing he could do to get rid of it.

Harry clenched his jaw tightly as you left the apartment with your date Matt, the door clicking shut behind you. He stalked over to the window, peering through the curtains to watch as you entered Matt's car and drove off.

A simmering feeling of unease settled in the pit of Harry's stomach. There was something vaguely familiar about Matt that he couldn't quite put his finger on. The way he carried himself with that cocky swagger, the artfully mussed hair, the smarmy grin...

Harry's eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him like a truck. He knew exactly where he recognized him from–Matt was someone from his past.

They used to work together, and Harry after a while, had had enough of it. It was illegal, and thrilling at first. But later he felt like he was ruining his life and family.

He wanted to pull himself out, but he had a lot of history with them, and letting him go would have been a potential threat. Luckily, he had gotten away, and by some cruel twist of fate, all that he had left behind, trying to pull himself out of, was catching up on him.

A wave of red-hot anger surged through Harry at the thought of this smarmy creep going after his sweet, naive roommate. Over his dead body would he allow that disgusting man to be anywhere near you.

Snatching his phone off the counter, Harry quickly pulled up your contact and hit the dial. He had to warn you about who Matt truly was before it was too late.

The phone rang once, twice, then went to voicemail - you must have already silenced it for your date. Cursing, Harry tried you again with the same result.

This wasn't going to work. If he wanted to stop this disastrous evening from happening, Harry realized grimly that he was going to have to take more drastic actions.

Grabbing his jacket and keys, he hurried out of the apartment and hopped into his car. Harry's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, peeling out onto the street in the direction of the restaurant where you and Matt were headed. He only hoped he wouldn't be too late.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts, slow burn

Word count: +4,5k

A/n: the next 3 chapters won’t follow Scream 6 plot as I wanted to add more storyline to the characters outside of the movies. If you want to read just Scream 6 plot, skip to Part 12. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Iris wiped down the counter of the bustling coffee shop she worked at, her focus shifting to the door as it swung open. Tara walked in, beaming, and Iris's face lit up with surprise. "What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, stepping around the register.

"I finished earlier today so I thought I'd come visit you! How's your day been?" Tara leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Extremely busy, talked to way too many people today, my social battery is over". Iris replied, rolling her eyes tiredly. "And don't even get me started on the Karens and the grumpy customers".

Tara laughed a little bit at her distress as she rubbed her shoulder in comfort. "But tell me, What about you?"

"Same old, we learned some things about movie making and then we watched a short film, it was a great day". Tara replied. "I was thinking we could check out that new taco place tonight. You in?"

Iris grinned, her excitement bubbling. "Absolutely!. I can't wait to relax" They exchanged ideas, the hum of the café fading as they planned their evening, savoring the joy of just being together.

Iris wiped her hands on her apron, leaning closer to Tara. "You have no idea how much I needed this surprise," she said, brushing her hand softly against Tara's.

Tara smiled, her voice softening. "I just wanted to see you. How about we get some beers with those tacos?"

"That sounds perfect," Iris replied, her heart fluttering at the thought of their evening. "I think you just made my day ten times better".

Just as Tara opened her mouth to respond, Miles, Iris's coworker, chimed in from the other side of the counter. "Hey, Iris, can you stop flirting with your girlfriend and get back to work?"

Both women flushed, exchanging quick glances. "We're just friends!" Iris blurted, her cheeks burning.

"Well can you and your friend stop flirting with each other and get back to work?".

"... We were not....". Iris paused mid-sentence as she noticed Miles turning away to focus on the coffee machine, oblivious to her response. "Okaaaay," she said with a sheepish smile at Tara. "Can you give me just five minutes? I need to help with the line forming." Tara nodded, a playful glint in her eye, and Iris turned back to her work, stealing glances at her friend as she poured drinks and took orders.

Iris busily attended to the steady stream of customers, exchanging smiles and friendly greeting as she prepared drinks. The shop buzzed with energy until the final customer stepped in.

It was a girl around their age, she had blonde wavy hair that framed her heart-shaped face. Her striking green eyes were bright and expressive and she had a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, while her confident smile reveals a hint of playfulness. She was pretty and she definitely knew it.

"Hello, what can I get for you?".

The girl, with a confident grin, approached the counter. "Hey there, can I get a caramel macchiato?".

"Sure anything else?"

"That depends, do you want to drink something?" She winked, her flirtation unmistakable.

Iris blushed under this girl's gaze, she wasn't used to this type of attention. She chuckled awkwardly, trying to remain professional. "Just the macchiato then". she replied, glancing at Tara, who stood nearby, her expression darkening with each passing second.

The girl jokingly pouted and then she gave her card. "How come I never saw you here... Iris?". She asked as she tried to read her name tag.

"You probably did, you just don't remember".

"I'm pretty sure I would".

Tara crossed her arms, her jaw tightening as she watched the interaction unfold. Iris turned to start making coffee, but the girl walked around the counter to keep talking to her.

"I'm Ashley, nice to meet you," the blonde said, her smile bright.

"Likewise," Iris replied, trying to remain friendly. Tara felt a surge of annoyance—why was Iris being so nice to this girl?

Finally it seemed that Ashley felt someone sending daggers at her way and she turned around, seeing Tara for the first time and she quickly took notice of the girl's face.

"You guys together?" Ashley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Before Tara could respond, Iris quickly answered, "She's my best friend."

"Oh cool," Ashley said, smirking at Tara, who scoffed in indignation.

"Here's your coffee," Iris said, trying to shift the focus back.

"Thank you, cutie," Ashley said, and Tara almost gagged in disgust. Who even said that these days?

"Would it be too bold of me to give you my number?" The way the blonde leaned in closer made Tara's stomach churn, and she couldn't help but glare, silently willing Iris to step back and focus on her instead.

"I mean, I... sure?" Iris stammered, caught off guard.

Ashley grabbed a napkin and scribbled her number, quickly handing it to Iris. "Don't feel pressure to call me, but I'd really like it if you did." With a final smile, she turned and left, leaving Iris staring at the napkin in surprise.

As Iris turned to wipe the counter once again, she caught Tara's eye and noticed the mix of irritation and sadness on her face.

"What?" Iris asked, noticing Tara's tense expression.

"Nothing. I can't believe you accepted her number," Tara replied, frustration lacing her voice.

"I didn't want to be mean," Iris defended.

"Well, are you going to call her?" Tara shot back.

"I don't know, maybe? I haven't really thought about dating again, but it might be good for me."

Tara lowered her gaze for a moment before meeting Iris's eyes again. "Yeah, who knows?"

"You okay?" Iris asked, puzzled by Tara's sudden shift in mood.

"Yeah, I'm just getting a headache. I'm gonna head home. See you there." Without waiting for a response, Tara turned and left, leaving Iris staring after her, a mix of concern and confusion swirling in her mind.

A few days later, Iris found herself sitting across from Ashley at a trendy little restaurant. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and clinking glasses, but Iris felt a tightness in her chest. She wasn't sure on going on this date but she figured what's the worse that could happen? She needed to move on somehow and maybe going on dates would help her. When she mentioned her date to Sam and Tara, Sam had looked surprised, cautioning her to be careful, while Tara simply told her to have fun before retreating to her room. The sudden shift in Tara's demeanor left Iris feeling confused and slightly hurt as she didn't understand why Tara was suddenly avoiding her.

As the conversation flowed, Iris attempted to focus on Ashley's stories, but her thoughts drifted back to Tara, a constant, unwelcome distraction. Ashley was charming and confident, her laughter infectious, yet each time she leaned in closer, a flicker of doubt ignited within Iris.

The memories of her last relationship flooded back, betrayals that left scars she hadn't fully healed. And she found herself wondering if she could ever go past that. Everytime they laughed she kept thinking if Ashley was going to pull a knife and stab her in the stomach until she realized how insane she was sounding.

"So, what do you like to do for fun?" Ashley asked, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I, um... I like hanging out with friends," Iris replied, her thoughts drifting to how much she missed Tara's presence. "Especially Tara. She's always up for something fun."

Ashley raised an eyebrow, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face. "Is that the girl from the other day?" At Iris nod of acknowledging, she continued. "Sounds like you really enjoy her company."

Iris bit her lip, realizing she had mentioned Tara too often. "Yeah, she's important to me," she admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.

As the date continued, Iris struggled to engage. She kept imagining Tara's smile, her laughter, and the way she seemed mad at her when she left that night. The connection with Ashley felt forced, and every time she tried to push aside her lingering trust issues, they bubbled back to the surface.

By the time dessert arrived, Iris knew this wasn't working but she continued engaging on the date to not make it worse for the other girl who was clearly trying. When the bill came, Ashley offered to pay but Iris declined as she felt like it was the least she could do, after all, she wasn't really planning on seeing her again.

As they wrapped up the evening, Iris smiled weakly, grateful for Ashley's tries, but deep down, she felt a mix of relief and disappointment.

After their date, Ashley walked Iris home, their footsteps echoing softly against the pavement until they reached her front door.

"This is me," Iris said, managing a weak smile. "Thank you for coming with me."

"It's no problem, really," Ashley replied, stepping closer with a hint of eagerness. "So, I had fun—maybe I can get a kiss?" She leaned in confidently, and in that moment, Iris felt an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. As their lips touched, she felt... nothing. The kiss was light and fleeting, and Iris pulled back almost instinctively, a wave of confusion washing over her.

"I'll see you Ashley". The girl quickly realizing that Iris wasn't going to invite her in, said goodbye and left.

When she stepped into her apartment, the familiar scent hit her, but it did little to lift her spirits. She sighed heavily, letting her purse and jacket tumble onto the sofa, feeling the weight of the world settle on her shoulders. The silence enveloped her as she trudged to her room, her feet dragging across the floor. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she dropped her head into her hands, disappointment curling in her chest.

It wasn't long before the sound of approaching footsteps broke the stillness. She looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

"Hey, so the date didn't go well? Did she suck?" She asked, trying to inject some levity into the moment.

"She was actually really charming and nice," Iris replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then why do you look like that?" Sam pressed, her brow furrowed with worry.

"I just can't," she murmured, frustration lacing her words.

"Can't what? Have fun on a date? Of course you can."

"Do you have fun on dates?" she shot back, her heart racing.

"I don't go on dates at all," she admitted, her tone somber.

"And why is that?" she asked, sensing the familiar heaviness that hovered between them.

"You know why," she said quietly, their shared history hanging in the air like a ghost.

They both sighed, the sound filled with a shared despair. "Then I guess you also know why I didn't have fun today," she confessed, feeling the sting of her own vulnerability. "She was sweet, and maybe if I didn't carry all this baggage, I could have actually liked her. But I spent the whole night fighting with my thoughts, literally thinking about anything and Ashley was the last thing on my mind."

"What else did you think about?" Sam asked, her gaze piercing yet gentle.

"Just stuff. It doesn't matter," she replied, but they both knew it did.

"I understand that. Are you going to start therapy? You study psychology and yet you don't go," she nudged, a note of concern slipping into her voice.

"I know, I have to. I thought I could do it by myself, but clearly, it's not working," she admitted, shame creeping in.

Sam moved beside her, enveloping her in a tight hug, the kind that felt like a lifeline. "Eventually, we are going to be fine," she whispered, the warmth of her words wrapping around her like a security blanket.

"Aren't you afraid you're never going to love someone again?" she asked, the vulnerability creeping back in.

"It's not something I'm thinking about right now," she replied, though her eyes revealed a deeper turmoil. "But you, Iris, you have to understand that nothing that happened was your fault."

"What if that's the only type of love I'm ever going to get? Toxic and manic?" Her voice trembled, the fear clawing at her insides.

"One day, you're going to find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved, warm and healthy," she reassured her, her sincerity grounding her.

"I hope so," she whispered, the hope feeling like a fragile thread.

"Who knows? Maybe it's someone you already know or someone you haven't met yet," she said, a hint of optimism breaking through.

"I'm just scared, Sam. I'm so angry and terrified that I will never love again," she confessed, the tears threatening to spill.

"Don't think like that okay? That love is going to knock on your door one day, and I hope you don't let it go to waste," she replied, her voice unwavering.

"One day, you're going to find it too, you know?" Iris added softly.

"We will see. Now come here," she said, pulling her into another embrace, a moment of solace amidst the storm.

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted their quiet moment. Tara entered, her expression shifting to concern as she assessed the atmosphere.

"Hey, I saw you were here," she said, her eyes flitting between the two. "Are you guys okay?"

Sam stood up to give them space. "Yeah, I'm gonna go to my room. You guys talk," she said, offering a soft smile before slipping outside.

Tara settled next to Iris, who looked at her in surprise. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me," Iris said, her heart racing.

"Why wouldn't I?" Tara murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor, a hint of sadness in her tone.

"I don't know, but I'm glad you're here," Iris said, tentatively reaching for her hand. Their fingers brushed, sending a small spark through her.

"Did you have fun?" Tara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Not really," Iris admitted, the weight of her disappointment still heavy.

"Why not?" Tara probed gently.

"It turns out I'm too traumatized," Iris laughed quietly, the sound tinged with bitterness. "Also, I just didn't like her."

"Well, she certainly did like you a lot," Tara remarked, a small scoff escaping her lips.

Iris chuckled at that, warmth spreading in her chest. "I don't care. I'd rather be here," she said, her fingers intertwining with Tara's. "With you."

She felt Tara's sharp intake of breath and the way her grip tightened. "I'm glad. I'd rather be here with you too," Tara whispered, her eyes searching Iris's.

Tara leaned in closer, their shoulders brushing, the warmth radiating between them. Iris could feel the soft thud of her heart, an echo of hope. They sat in a comfortable silence, fingers still intertwined, the weight of the past lifting just a little in the warmth of their connection.

Two months had slipped by since that failed night and Iris and Tara had gotten closer than ever. Their friendship had deepened, filled with laughter, late-night talks, and moments that made Iris's heart race. Yet every time the atmosphere turned slightly out of the friendship context—when their hands brushed or their eyes lingered a moment too long—something within Iris would clench, and she would pull away, retreating into her protective shell.

When Iris returned home from work, she felt a sense of excitement bubbling inside her. She had planned a night in with Tara and Sam, as it was her turn to pick a movie and she decided to go with a classic one she knew Tara would love and  she also packed a bag of her favorite snacks. The smell of home assaulted her nostrils as she unlocked the door of their shared aparment. 

Iris stepped inside and paused, taking in the sight of Tara sprawled on the sofa, her hair slightly disheveled and a silly smile on her face as she looked up from her phone. "Hey, girl!" Iris beamed, plopping down beside her, the cushions sinking beneath them. "So, I found the perfect movie for today. It's kinda old, don't know if you know it, but I think you'll love it!"

Tara grimaced slightly, her brow furrowing as she cleared her throat. "Mmm, I can't today."

"Why not? You okay? We can do something else..." Iris's heart sank at the prospect of their plans being changed.

"I have a date," Tara announced.

"What?" Iris's voice rose an octave, disbelief washing over her.

"I have a da—" Tara began, but Iris quickly interrupted "Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time."

"Since when do you have dates?" Iris emphasized the word "dates," making exaggerated air quotes with her fingers, disbelief and annoyance flooding her senses.

"Since now," Tara replied, her tone nonchalant as she met Iris's gaze.

"But why?" Iris pressed, a knot in her stomach tightening and she didn't really understand why.

"Well, it's easy, Iris. If you want someone to go on a date with you, you just ask them." Tara fixed her with a serious stare. "So he asked me, and I said yes."

"Now why the fuck would you say yes?" Iris stood abruptly, a surge of frustration fueling her actions.

"Why wouldn't I? Maybe going out with someone would do me good." The words felt like a punch to Iris's gut, echoing the same phrase she had given to Tara when she had gone out with Ashley, which only made her blood boil.

"Well, you can't go," Iris declared, as if she had the final word in the matter.

"What the fuck? Of course I can go!" Tara shot back, rising from the sofa as well, the tension in the room palpable.

"No, you can't! It's dangerous! You don't know who this person is! What if he's some random trying to be Ghostface?" Iris's protective instincts were on high alert, her heart racing.

"Bullshit, you didn't think about any of that when you went out with Ashley!" Tara retorted, her frustration matching Iris's.

"It's different," Iris countered, her voice rising as they stared each other down, the atmosphere crackling with unspoken emotions.

"Why?" Tara demanded, her eyes challenging Iris to say something, the air thick with tension.

"What's his name? Do I know him? What does he look like?" Iris fired off a rapid series of questions, anger overtaking her.

"What's up with all these questions?" Tara stood her ground, a mix of irritation and curiosity on her face.

"I'm just asking, that's all! You're still not answering!" Iris felt her pulse quicken.

"This is insane. It almost sounds like you're jealous," Tara said, her voice low and curious, a smirk forming on her lips at the idea. "but that would be impossible, right?"

"Of course it would be impossible, jealous? Me? I'm not jealous! Don't be ridiculous! I'm only asking because I'm worried about your safety! They could be a total creep for all I know!" Iris's emotions spilled out, raw and vulnerable.

"Eee, what's going on?" Both Sam and Mindy appeared from the kitchen, drawn by the rising tension in the room.

"Tara is going out with a potential killer" Iris declared dramatically.

"Iris, what the fuck?" Tara looked incredulous.

"What?" Sam was now fully alert, glancing back and forth between them.

"No one is a potential killer. His name is Drew, and he's Chad's friend from football," Tara clarified, rolling her eyes.

"And? C'mon, Sam, back me up!" Iris implored, frustation creeping into her voice.

Sam hesitated, torn between agreeing with Iris and her sister's firm stance. She sensed the urgency in Iris's eyes but also the pleading look in Tara's expression. Seeing Iris acting so weird about it was definetely something to talk about, maybe this would be the push the girl needed to finally do something. Plus she had a tracking device on Tara, she will be keeping an eye on her. "Okay, go, but you message me all the time, and I'm keeping the tracker," Sam finally relented.

"You still have that tracker? Jesus, Sam," Tara remarked, half-amused, half-annoyed. Sam simply stared at her, unwavering. "Fine."

Iris felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. "So just like that?" She couldn't hide her shock.

"Just like that," Tara affirmed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she patted Iris's arm before heading to her room to get ready.

"I can't believe you let her go!" Iris exclaimed, her disbelief bubbling over.

"Well, what did you want me to do? Lock her up in the room?" Sam countered, her brow raised in challenge.

"Yes!" Iris's response came out sharper than intended.

Mindy, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with barely contained laughter, chimed in. "You're so jealous I almost feel sorry for you." she declared, amusement lighting up her face. "But then I remember you are an idiot and I go back to normal".

"For the last time, I'm not jealous!" Iris shot back, her cheeks flushing.

"Saying it ten thousand times doesn't make it true!" Mindy teased, her laughter infectious.

"Fuck off, Mindy, and fuck you too, Sam!" Iris huffed, storming off to her room. "Fucking traitor" She mumbled under her breath. As she slammed the door behind her, she could still hear the sound of their laughter echoing down the hall, only fueling the fire of her annoyance.

Inside her room, Iris paced back and forth, the weight of her emotions crashing over her. She didn't understand what she was feeling but she hated it and she needed it to stop. She tossed her phone onto the bed, staring out the window at the night sky, which seemed to reflect her inner turmoil. The thought of Tara laughing with another person, enjoying a night that could be shared with her, twisted her stomach into knots but she wasn't fucking jealous, she was just worried. Honestly who the hell would name their child Drew?.

Iris lounged on the sofa, the soft fabric cradling her as she flicked through channels mindlessly, the muted glow of the TV casting gentle shadows around the room. She had lost track of time, her thoughts drifting between the day's events and the comforting rhythm of her breathing. Just as she began to feel the weight of solitude, the front door creaked open, and she turned around meeting with Tara who gently waved at her.

Iris's expression went from surprised to concern, it was still too early for her date to be over. "Tara!" Iris jumped up. "You're back already?"

"Yeah, it was... not great," Tara admitted, biting her lip as she approached Iris. "I realized pretty quickly it wasn't what I wanted."

Iris couldn't help but admire Tara as she stepped through the room, the soft glow of the hallway light catching the shimmer of her dress. The deep emerald fabric hugged her curves in all the right places and a delicate silver necklace, adorned with a small, glistening pendant, glinted as she moved, adding a touch of elegance. Tara's hair fell in effortless waves around her shoulders, framing her face beautifully, and Iris felt a swell of admiration, thinking how effortlessly stunning her friend looked, an image that would linger in her mind long after the day ended.

"Oh, that sounds awful. I'm really sorry," Iris said, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, frustration and embarrassment swirling inside her. She had replayed the incident in her mind, and while the anger lingered, it was overshadowed by her embarrassment over her own outburst.

"Na, it's okay. I don't really care," Tara replied, settling onto the couch beside her. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her casual demeanor surprising Iris. "Plus, he wasn't really my type."

Iris couldn't help but chuckle at Tara's attempt at humor. "What's your type then? Muscular guys, blondes?"

Tara paused, her gaze fixed on Iris as if she were analyzing her, weighing her words carefully. "Brunettes with a terrible sense of humor."

"That's oddly specific," Iris laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is this the moment you tell me you have a crush on Chad?" She pretended to gag dramatically, eliciting a soft smile from Tara, who continued to gaze at her with an intensity that made Iris's heart flutter.

"Oh yeah, the love of my life," Tara teased, and they both burst into laughter. "Maybe we can watch a movie?"

"You're not tired?" Iris asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not for you," Tara replied, a soft grin spreading across her face. Iris felt a warm blush creep up her cheeks, so she looked away, nodding in agreement. "Give me five minutes so I can get into my pajamas."

A few minutes later, Tara returned, her comfy sweatpants and oversized tee a stark contrast to her earlier outfit. They settled onto the couch, the soft cushions sinking beneath them as Tara reached for the remote, while Iris pulled a cozy blanket over their laps. As Tara scrolled through the options, Iris found her voice again.

"I'm sorry," Iris blurted out, guilt flooding her system. "I shouldn't have freaked out earlier. I just—"

"No, Iris, it's okay," Tara interrupted, stepping closer. "I get it. You care about me. I just... I didn't expect you to be so upset about me going out with someone."

"But I get it, with everything that happened last year, it's not easy to trust people".

Iris was surprised by Tara's understanding and as she nodded in agreement she couldn't help but feel bad as it felt like she was lying. She just didn't know at who, Tara or herself.

"Still, I'm sorry, it won't happen again".

"Okay, I appreciate it". After a few moments of silence, Tara spoke again, glancing up with a smile. "I found this rom com, thought it might be fun."

"I'm in," They exchanged casual remarks about the movie, the tension from earlier fading away, replaced now by a cozy atmosphere.

As the story unfolded on screen, Iris felt Tara shift closer, their thighs brushing against each other. She glanced at the girl who was utterly absorbed in the film, her eyes bright and animated.

She felt Tara move uncomfortably in the couch just as she brought the blanket closer to her.

"You know you're taking all the blanket away from me," Iris said with a playful grin, her voice light with amusement.

Tara looked at her, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm cold," she replied, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips, her eyes darting back to the screen.

"Well, come closer then," Iris suggested, her tone inviting.

Iris felt the warmth of Tara's body enveloping her, a soothing presence that made her heart swell. She instinctively draped her arm around Tara, pulling her closer. Tara nestled into her side, letting out a contented sigh that sent a rush of warmth through Iris.

"Is this okay?" Iris asked softly, glancing down at Tara, who was now looking up at her with a smile.

"More than okay," Tara replied, her eyes sparkling.

"You know, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked," Iris said, wiggling her eyebrows. Moments later, she felt a gentle slap on her arm.

"You think you're funny but you're just a little shit"

"Thank you". Iris couldn't help but smile, feeling a wave of affection wash over her.

As the movie progressed, Iris found herself losing track of the plot, completely captivated by the feeling of Tara curled against her. She absentmindedly played with a strand of Tara's hair, twirling it around her fingers, each touch sending tingles down her spine.

Tara shifted slightly, her arm slipping around Iris's waist, pulling her in even closer. The intimacy felt electric, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Iris's heart raced as Tara nestled her face into the crook of Iris's neck, breathing in the familiar scent that always calmed her. She found herself lost in thoughts about how Tara had looked for her date, a vision that lingered vividly in her mind. Suddenly, an urge to express her feelings bubbled up within her, and she felt this need to share what she thought.

"You know, I don't really remember the last time I saw you in a dress," Iris said, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips.

"Yeah, it's not really my thing, but I wanted to try something new," Tara replied, laughter spilling from her lips like music, a sound that resonated deep within Iris. "Did I look ridiculous?"

Iris shook her head, her pulse quickening. "I thought you looked beautiful." The words slipped out, filled with sincerity and warmth.

Tara's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, and she locked eyes with Iris, her expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Really?" she asked, her voice slightly trembling, as if she could hardly believe it.

"Yeah, stunning," Iris replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tara didn't say anything else but she reached out , intertwining her fingers with Iris's. As they continued watching the movie, their hands remained clasped, the warmth radiating between them a comforting reminder of their bond.

[eliluvschan]

Coffee Spill

pairing: lee know x reader

word count: 438

warnings: none

genre: fluff

a/n: i’m so so sorry for not posting for a loooong time. had a lot going on but i’m back :) hope y’all will like this one<3 also look at how hot Minho looks in the photo’s omg😩

''hi, i'll have a large iced caramel latte.'' i ordered at the counter.

''one large iced caramel latte. that'll be 4,000₩ please.'' the barista said.

i was on my way to work and the usual coffee spot i'd always go to was busy, it was the morning rush.

''thank you.'' the barista said as i stuffed my phone back in my pocket.

i moved out of line and waited for my drink.

ten minutes passed and i scrolled deep through my phone, trying to pass time.

''Y/n!' the barista called.

i looked up and saw my drink on the counter. i walked towards it, grabbed it and took a sip as i walked towards the door.

there was a sudden bump between a stranger and i. coffee spilled all over the two of us.

''oh my god. i'm so sorry. are you okay?'' the stranger frantically said.

''i'm okay. what about you though?'' i shook my head.

''here.'' he said, handing me some napkins.

we both cleaned ourselves off and wiped down the floor.

''so much for waiting in that line, huh?'' he joked.

i looked at him and laughed.

''yeah.''

he took off his sunglasses and looked at me.

cat-like, dark brown eyes, chiseled nose and sharp jawline.

gorgeous.

''please, let me buy you another one.'' he said, taking his wallet out of his back pocket.

i shook my head no.

''it's fine. i'm late for work anyway. i'll be back for another tomorrow.'' i said getting up and tossing the now empty cup away along with the drenched napkins.

''please, i'm so sorry. i was in a rush to get to practice but had enough time to buy an ame-'' he rambles as i cut him off.

''it's fine, really. thank you for the offer though.'' i smile.

''Lee Minho.'' he said.

''Lee Minho.'' i repeated.

he raised his eyebrow.

''Y/n L/n.'' i smiled. ''i'm sorry, but i'm really late. i have to get going.''

''i can't let you go without making up for it. let me take you out to dinner then sometime/'' he insisted.

i debated and thought for a second.

one, i was already late for work. two, my clothes were ruined and wet so i had to go back home and change. three, he was fine as hell and four, why was he so invested in making up for a 4,000₩ latte spill?

''okay.'' i sighed and dug through my purse for my business card.

he grabbed it and smiled. ''i'll call you.''

''i'll be waiting for your call then.'' i said and ran out of the door.

~

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Longer chapter! Hope you'll enjoy it. anyway, if anyone knows who the artist of this art below is, please let me know. I find it all on Pinterest and I can't seem to trace the artist 🥲.

The steady, bubbling stream of cold tap water hitting Simon's warm, weary, grimy hands as he washed them was a respite from the busyness of the day. 

He was, by profession, a car mechanic in the servicing department for a glitzy car brand. The day was booked to the brim with cars that needed maintenance and repair from accidents, and it was enough work for him to feel a dull ache in his shoulders, and a tremble in his hands as he lathered them generously with soap. 

A weary sigh tried to escape his lips, only to be hindered by the mask he wore day in and day out. He felt his own warm breath against his mouth and cringed; an unwelcome feeling after working in the sweltering garage. 

When he found that he was all alone in the loo, he took the opportunity to take off his mask, actually and properly sigh, and wash his face. He quickly wiped it down with a handkerchief, and not allowing a moment for his skin to breathe, he put the mask back on. 

A phone call came in as he was stepping out. It was her. He found it a little odd to get a call from her, as the two mostly texted. 

“Maybe it's something urgent,” thought Simon, now stopping by the door of the restroom. 

“Hey, you alright, love?” he asked as soon as he picked up. 

“I'm fine, Simon, but I kinda have an emergency.” Her voice came from the other end, sounding a little frantic, making him worry a little. 

“What's up?” 

“My car broke down, and I don't know what it is. I have the bonnet open and everything looks so confusing.”

“Where are you now?” 

She told him. 

“Okay, you wait there. I'll be there in,” he looked at his watch, “twenty minutes… Or as fast as I can.”

“Thanks, Simon,” she exhaled her relief. 

“Are you with someone?” 

“No, I'm alone.” 

Simon's jaw tightened. “Make sure you sit inside the car and lock the doors. It's getting dark and it could get dangerous.”

“Got it.” 

The call soon ended and Simon quickly changed out of his uniform to his normal clothes which consisted of a v-neck t-shirt, jeans, and his staple: the leather jacket. Having taken all his stuff, he clocked out and immediately mounted his motorcycle to fly over to your rescue. 

Seeing that the sun had set already, he went faster. He reached her in fifteen minutes. Upon spotting her car parked by the side of the road away from the traffic, he slowed down and parked his motorcycle in front of her car. 

He saw the bonnet of the car slightly open, and was upset by it. “She's practically advertising to the world that her car's broken down. That could get more attention drawn to her,” he thought as he kicked out the stand and swung his leg over the motorcycle, now laying a heavy step on the asphalt. 

The stench of rotten eggs filled the air, and he already knew what the problem was. While he took off his helmet, he watched as she quickly opened your door and came out of the car to greet him. 

“Oh good, you're finally here,” she smiled, looking relieved. 

“Tell me what's going on,” Simon got down to business immediately, now taking off his black leather gloves that had printed on them the bones of the hand and stuffing them in his pocket. 

She led him to the open bonnet of the car, and the stench overwhelmed his nose even through the mask. She told him about a sputtering engine. 

“Did you see any dashboard signs telling you to check the engine?” he asked. 

“Nope.” 

“Can you sit inside and turn on the radio for me? And turn on the headlights too,” Simon instructed. 

She did as told. The radio didn't turn on, and the headlights were dim. He turned to the open bonnet and stared particularly at the battery. One of the connectors and pipes was caked with a teal powder; he called her out of the car, pointing out the discovery. 

“Your battery is leaking out acid, bringing out all this bloody minging smell,” he said, brushing a bit of the teal powder with his finger. “Leaking battery and a stench means you have to get a new battery.” He now rubbed the powder off and put his hands on his hips, asking, “When was the last time you had the battery changed?” 

“Six years ago? When I bought the car.”

Simon was appalled by how nonchalantly she said it. He shook his head and exclaimed, “Six years? You cannot be serious.” he could feel his mechanic heart breaking at the sound of such neglect. “Your battery is ancient. The maximum life of this thing is six years.” 

She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks in embarrassment as he said this. “I didn't know that. I'm not good with cars, you know. I just rolled with whatever the mechanics in the service center did.”

“Fucking hell,” Simon sighed, exasperated as he looked at the battery again. “Looks like the service center mechanics weren't doing a very good job,” he shook his head again. “Batteries dying of old age are common, but this looks absolutely nasty. Almost looks like it's been neglected. You've been duped!” He said with passion. 

Her eyebrows furrowed at this and funnily enough, she couldn't help but feel like she was on an episode of Kitchen Nightmares with a blond Englishman scolding her; the only difference being that a failing car was involved and not a failing kitchen. 

He glanced at her, and saw that she had her arms crossed as she looked at the open bonnet of the car with a guilty and helpless look on her face. Simon's eyes softened with compassion and he gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“I'll call someone to tow the car to a better service center. I know a good one,” he said, hoping to assure her, “If we can get there now, they can fix in a new battery for you.”

Without waiting for an answer from her, he immediately called a towing company for the car, and then the service center to give them a heads up that he was bringing a car in. He even managed to bag a discount! 

She watched with amazement as he made all these phone calls, words flying out like a hurricane as he paced about the pavement, hand on his hip. The more passionate he seemed about wanting to help, the more the guilt and embarrassment pressed in her heart. 

When all the phone calls were done, he let out a heavy sigh as he slipped the device back in his jeans. “Right then,” he said, “I've got you all covered. Now we wait.”

She nodded and watched him curiously for a moment before asking, “You know all those people?” 

“Yeah, all friends of mine. I'm a regular at the service center for my motorcycle. As for the towing company, the boss is a friend of a friend.” 

“Must be great to have a lot of connections, huh?” 

Simon nodded. “I've always tried to have as many connections as possible because someone once told me that it's not about what you know, but who you know.” 

She saw a solemn, distant, and thoughtful look pass through his eyes for a split second, as if thinking of a past memory. It was quickly replaced with annoyance. “It's too fucking hot here,” he hissed as he peeled off his leather jacket. 

This action gave her the opportunity to see him in a short sleeved shirt, which displayed his pale yet muscular arms, which clearly were built strong out of continuous use and not for a mere decoration. The entirety of his left arm was inked with intricate black tattoos, all the designs of skulls, roses, and guns fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. It was understatement to say that she felt her ovaries explode at the sight. 

Simon was intentional when he took off his jacket, although it was true that he did feel hot. A glance at her told him that she didn't seem to take notice of his muscles or his tattoos, a disappointment to him. But he wasn't keen enough to catch her quick, stealthy glances at his arms as her thoughts ran wild again in trying to be superfluous in her descriptions of them.

She couldn't help but think to herself that, “He'd make the perfect mysterious male lead of a dark romance.”

The tow truck arrived and before she knew it, she was Simon's passenger on his motorcycle, entrusted with his leather jacket. The two led the truck to the service center, and all the while, she was pressed against his warm back, highly conscious of the fact that the barrier between his back and her face was just a thin t-shirt and not a thick leather jacket like the first.

Her authorly brain couldn't help but turn this into a sort of metaphor. Was it a thinning of the barriers between him and her, now that they've been friends for over a month? 

“Let's not overanalyze this, shall we?” she reminded herself, gently squeezing her arms around him as he sped down the roads, trying to ignore how she could feel the contours of his body under the thin fabric. 

Fixing the car took a couple tedious hours, but Simon made sure to be with his friend throughout, explaining to her in excruciating detail whatever he could about the functioning of a car so that she would not be duped again. She appreciated his lectures and listened attentively, even though he wasn't the best at explaining things. 

At the end of it all, the two sat down in her newly fixed car for some cold soda that she bought for him. The air conditioning was running well (Simon was relieved), and so was the radio, which was now tuned to a station softly playing some old timey American songs in the background. 

“You were a great help,” she said as she cracked open the tab of the can as Simon did. 

“My pleasure, love,” he raised his can and tapped it gently with her can. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” she grinned, and then paused to look at him, wondering if he would remove his mask, as he had never done so in front of her before. 

Simon found himself in a bit of a predicament as he stared at his can of soda. He was usually more mindful of his mask when he was with strangers and acquaintances, but with the fuss of the car and all his chatting with her, he completely forgot that drinking soda would have to make him take off the mask. 

Would he remove his mask when he didn't yet want to, even though he wanted to share this drink with her? He glanced back at her and found her silently drinking her soda and staring ahead, pretending not to notice his mental debate. 

Gaz's reprimand came to mind again, “You're telling me you'll let a scar– a scar, of all things, hinder your chances at finding a girlfriend.”

He wasn't wrong. Now that Simon thought of it, the sooner he showed his marred face to her, the lesser it would hurt if she rejected him. 

“Don't overthink it,” he told himself as he slipped his finger under the ear loop of his mask and pulled it over his ear, making the mask slip off to reveal the lower part of his face. He sat back, casually as he could, and took off the other ear loop so wouldn't awkwardly dangle from his other ear, all the while trying to ignore how naked he felt without the covering. 

“Soda's pretty good, isn't it?” she asked, turning to look at him. 

“Hm, yes,” he answered in a murmur, now taking the first sip of his soda and pulling away the can for her to finally look at his face. 

He saw her looking, and his heart rate spiked and cheeks flushed (thank heavens it was dark), waiting for a reaction from her.

She finally had the privilege of seeing his face, and in a split second, she tried to make the most of it. His face as a whole was beautiful, pleasing to the eye. He had a rectangular face, high and prominent cheekbones; a long, sharp nose, thin lips, and a light stubble across his jaw and cheeks. 

He squirmed slightly in his seat and looked away, taking another sip. Seeing that he was uncomfortable being looked at, she too looked away, now feeling shy that she was in the presence of such a gorgeous man. Why on earth did he cover his face was a mystery to her. 

She began, her voice unwittingly rising to a higher pitch, “Seriously though, I don't know how I went years without having anyone to consult me about cars.” 

Simon blinked in surprise that she didn't make any comments on his face after looking at him, and wasn't sure whether to consider it a good thing or a bad thing. He decided to worry about it later. 

“Not a single person?” he asked, instinctively and slightly leaning towards her as she spoke.

“Not one.”

“And did you never notice any problems with the car before we took it to be fixed today?”

“I did, and I wheeled the car off to the service center many times only to be shut down saying that it wasn't a big deal and it would resolve itself,” she shrugged. 

“They said that? Fucking twats they all are,” said he with a low grumble. 

“Unfortunately,” she shrugged again, watching how his lips curled upwards into a sneer of displeasure and how his nose crinkled along with it. 

“Tell you what, darling,” Simon shifted in his seat slightly and held out his can-holding hand at her, flicking out his pointer finger to make a point, “you don't need to worry about those bastards when you got me, yeah? If you got any car problems, I'll fix them for you.”

He saw her eyes soften at this proposal, but she glanced away for a moment, as if considering it with some hesitation. He knew her just enough to know that she had trouble accepting help when she needed it. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed gently to encourage her,

“You know I'm a car mechanic, and a fucking good one too.” He sat back in the seat, now drowning the last of his soda. “You won't have to call anyone else when you have me. Just hit me up, and I'll be there…” he paused to meet her eye, hoping to let her know he was completely serious, “... Just like tonight.” 

This didn't fail to cause a flutter in her chest. She smiled, genuinely warmed and touched by how eager he was to help. “Thanks, Simon.”

His cheeks raised up to his eyes as he smiled, and the lady was taken in by how sweet it was. Their eyes met again, and the two felt an undeniable tension in the air; sparks flying around them, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. 

The soft yellow headlights of a passing vehicle shone into the car, momentarily brightening up his pale face and his deep brown eyes into soft pools of honey. The light, for a brief moment, also revealed a prominent scar on his cheek, something that the earlier darkness hid from her sight. 

Yet again did her authorly brain try to turn this moment into a metaphor. Was this gentle flash of passing light meant to shine upon a part of him behind his dark veil, his mask of mystery, to reveal bright, affectionate eyes, and a curious yet faint scar? Could this have been a sign of their ever growing closeness?

As the light passed, his honey eyes darkened again; they narrowed slightly and he leaned forward just a little, his breathing laboured, as if he wanted to say something. The lady squirmed in her seat and felt her chest tighten as she silently watched him, unable to look away. 

“I was wondering…” he began, now pausing to inhale, “if we could hang out any time soon, just both of us,” he said, trying to sound as casual as he could, and he quickly added, “I'm about to finish your novel, Firefly Trails, and I was hoping we could talk more about it…” he paused, feeling his entire body grow warm with nervous anticipation, “And maybe you could suggest some more books I could read.” 

Her eyes lit up at this invitation. “Sure! I'd love to. When are you free?”

“I'm free this weekend.” 

“Alright, that sounds good.” she grinned.

Simon was relieved to hear the eagerness in her voice, and took it that she still wanted something to do with him. The two went on to decide the particulars of the hangout for a while, until a phone call interrupted. Simon pulled out his phone and sighed when he saw who was calling. 

“What do you want, Johnny?” 

“Where are ye? Ye were s'posed to be at the gym thirty minutes ago. I'm waiting!” complained Johnny. 

“Ah, blimey,” Simon shook his head, “Completely forgot. ____ had some car trouble so I went to help her out.”

Simon was met with teasing jeers from his friend, making him groan. “Wheesht!” Simon hissed, only for it to make Johnny cackle. “Look, I'll be right there. Give me…” he looked at his watch, “Fifteen minutes.” 

“Make it quick lad, or you'll get a bollocking from me.” 

“Fuck off now. You'll delay me.” 

The call ended and Simon looked at her, sighing. “Gotta go,” he said. 

A subtle pout pushed out her lower lip. “Too bad, and we were just starting to get into our planning too.”

He chuckled, feeling warmed by her sentiment. “Yeah, but don't worry darling, we have the entire week ahead of us to plan comfortably, yeah?” 

She nodded, smiling. 

“Right then,” he slapped his knees, “I'll see you around then, alright? You take care on your way back.”

“You too, Simon.”

He sighed, pausing for a moment to take in the way she said his name. He never wanted to admit it to her, but he loved every instance she uttered it. The way she'd drag out the first syllable a little, and look at him with those gorgeous, killer eyes of hers as she did; it was enough for a man of his size and strength to melt like a little cube of ice in the palm of her hand. A simple action, yet it riled him up enough to want to kiss the living hell out of her. 

He inhaled, trying to get every carnal urge under control. “Text me when you reach, alright?” he said in a mildly strained voice. 

“Sure, will do.” she nodded. 

That being said and good-night's exchanged, Simon quickly put his mask back on, got out of the car, and threw the empty can in a bin. She watched as he made his way to his waiting motorcycle, observing his gait, the way his hips, shoulders, and arms moved in clockwork, relaxed but determined. She found herself leaning against the steering wheel again to stare at the way he hoisted up his leg and swung it in a smooth sweep over his motorcycle, and then settled down on the vehicle, making the shock absorbers bounce back slightly against his weight. 

She gazed with interest as he put on his gloves and then grabbed the helmet, only to raise his chin up to let gravity comb his gorgeous blond hair down so that it stayed out of his way as he put the headgear. His biceps flexed and tightened against the short sleeve of his t-shirt, and even from a little distance away, she could see how his tattoos moved against the contours of his muscles like ocean waves. 

He looked back at her and caught her staring. At the sight of her relentless gaze, all he could hear in his head was Gaz telling him to shoot his shot. Her smiles, her acceptance to meet again were, and especially her stating were all massive green lights for him, yet he was still in partial disbelief. 

Meeting her eyes again gave him a jolt down his spine, and waved one last time before he left. She smiled sheepishly and waved back at him, blushing at the fact that she was caught.  

He rode off, leaving her the echo of the roar of the engine, and she sat back in her driver's seat, finishing the last sips of the lukewarm soda in her hand that she completely forgot about. His figure receded in the distance and she remembered the first time she met him. 

“He's been saving me since back then.” she chuckled to herself, feeling a little ashamed at how helpless she found herself to be. But she was more than grateful for his help, and for the fact that he never complained and was so eager to assist her. It was the third time he helped her out, and it was almost as if he'd come running back all over again if she called. 

He certainly lived up to his name. 

And then there was his face. She allowed her mind to wander as she thought of his rugged, masculine features; she didn't know what to expect, but it was certainly unexpected to find such a handsome man hiding under that mask. She could make out only a little in the partial darkness, of his rectangular face and sturdy, stubble-speckled jaw, and of the slope of his shapely, sharp nose. She sighed, suddenly longing to study his face in proper light, and perhaps get lost in his honey eyes. 

Shaking off her thoughts, she reached to her backpack in the backseat for her phone, and found that Simon had left his leather jacket in the back when they had sat down in the front to drink their sodas. 

“Better send him a text.” she thought to herself as she informed him. 

That being done, she kept the phone aside and took the jacket to inspect it. It was obvious that it was made of faux leather, but it was smooth to touch. The lining inside was tartan patterned with dark green and blue, which seemed an odd choice for lining, but she wasn't one to judge. She held the garment against her torso, and as she expected, it was huge. 

“Let's not get creepy with it, shall we?” she reminded herself, now keeping the jacket on her lap as she got the engine running again. 

She drove back home with the jacket, repeatedly telling herself to not be creepy with it, only for her to immediately try it on as soon as she stepped in. 

“It's so comfortable!” she exclaimed as she felt the loose jacket sag around her body and her arms. She stuffed her hands in the pockets and found that they were massive. “Unbelievable... they make men's clothes so much better.”

She pulled away the front of the jacket to feel the tartan lining, and it felt like touching a thick blanket. The jacket was perfect for a cold winter and for the rains that had been pouring lately. 

She pulled it closer against herself, and the lingering scent of his perfume wafted to her nose. It was the same smell of a damp rainforest and dark chocolate, the scent of which immediately took her back to the day she met him.

"Is this what it would feel like to hug him?" she wondered, feeling her cheeks flush warm as she thought of the prospect of being held in those finely sculpted arms.

Her phone chimed, indicating a message. 

Simon Riley Biker: sorry about that, can u keep the jacket with u until we meet again? 

Simon Riley Biker: also have u reached? 

She smiled and started typing her reply.

Author Girl: Sure! 

Author Girl: And yes I did just now 

Simon Riley Biker: right then, I'll catch you soon, ok? At the gym rn

Author Girl: okay! Have a good workout :) 

Simon Riley Biker: thanks darling

On the other side of the phone, Simon was seated in the gym locker rooms by himself, phone in hand, thumbs dancing over the screen up and down as he wondered what he should type next. As he did, a new message came in.

Author Girl: thanks again for helping me out with the car. You saved me yet again 

He chuckled at and started typing, the smile not leaving his half covered face. 

Simon Riley Biker: my pleasure, don't worry about it. U can call me again if you have car problems 

Author Girl: you're too kind 😂 but thanks a lot again 

Simon Riley Biker: anytime darling 

Author Girl: alright then, I'm gonna get some sleep. Good night! 

Simon paused, feeling his heart rate increase for a moment as he thought of something he wanted to do. Swallowing down his nervousness, he did it anyway. 

Simon Riley Biker: [audio: 0:03 seconds] 

He never sent an audio message to her before, and wondering what he could have sent, held the phone speakers to her ear and played it. 

“Good night, love,” came the crisp, clear audio recording in her ear. His normally gruff voice sounded subdued and gentle, smooth, almost oozing with a soft, subtle hint of adoration, especially at the endearment. 

The lady was left stunned, mouth hanging open slightly and her feet affixed to the floor, unable to believe for a moment what she just heard. Butterflies and tingles swarmed every inch of her body, and her cheeks flushed yet again. She played it again. And again. And again. 

Simon, in the meantime, worried about her lack of response, wondering if he was too bold in sending her a voice message. He finally saw that she was typing, and she sure did take a while to collect her thoughts to write a coherent and absolutely calm reply in the form of:

Author Girl: good night, Simon :) 

The conversation ended there, and he breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good. Standing up, he slipped his phone in his pocket and left to get to his workout done with Johnny, unable to stop thinking of her and her smiles.

In the meantime, she stepped into the bathroom for her night routine. Her thoughts too were filled to the brim with Simon while she bathed and did her simple skin care routine all on autopilot. Every other thing that happened during the day was completely overridden just by the presence of that biker, his voice, his warm gaze upon her, his smile, his face. 

She couldn't shake off the feeling, especially of his voice message in her thoughts that played like a broken vinyl record. She was sure that every single interaction she had with him would make it into her next book in some form or other. 

She slipped into her nightwear and then hung his jacket on the coat hook in the corner of her room, resisting the temptation to cuddle with the garment. She finally tucked herself in bed, surrounded by her cushions and plush animals. As soon as the night lamp was switched off and she had nearly sunk in and molded comfortably into her bed and pillows, she played the recording again, the cherry on top to end the long day. 

“Good night, love.” 

It felt like a kiss to the forehead.

End of Part 4.

Part 5

[bookworm551]

Take the Edge Off | Part 3 | Stress Relief

Your week hasn’t been going so well, so you decide to seek out something that can help remedy your stress.

A/N: I’m gonna try to keep rolling these out every week, but forgive me if I’m inconsistent. I’m a busy gal, but Miguel is always on my mind. Love y’all <3

Warnings: fingering, oral f-receiving, overstimulation.

Word count: 4.6k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You tumbled into your apartment from the fire escape window with a loud grunt. You sat up slowly as you held onto your sides. It had been a rough day for Spider-woman. A rough few days, really. There had been one particular rogue who was causing you more trouble than you expected, and you had paid for it with your time and energy.

You sat on the floor of your tiny apartment for a few minutes staring absently at the floor before pushing yourself up with a grunt. You shrugged out of your suit and bra and changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. You opened your fridge to find that you had hardly anything left. You had been so busy that week, you'd forgotten to get food for yourself.

You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Taking one of the two slices of cold pizza you still had left, you closed the fridge. You sat down on the edge of your bed as you ate, replaying the events of the week in your head. You knew your body was going to be bruised, and you decided it would be best to take something to help knock you out for the night.

You went to your bathroom cabinet and reached for a bottle of painkillers, only they weren't there. You stood there for a moment as aggravation washed over your body. Of course it wasn't here. Where the hell did you put it?

You closed your eyes with a heavy sigh. You had left it in your apartment on Earth-928 after your last mission left you covered in bruises, much like you were now. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Now, you had a choice. You were tired and didn’t want to do any more traveling for the night, let alone cross-dimensional traveling, but at the same time, you were in pain and don’t want to deal with it.

You closed the medicine cabinet and shook your head. Turning on the sink faucet, you splashed water on your face to revive yourself. The cool water was refreshing against your skin, and after a moment, you turned the water off and wiped the excess water off of your face. You stared at your reflection for a second and noticed the fading puncture marks on your neck.

You paused as the memories of Miguel’s body against yours replayed in your head. An idea formed in your mind as you thought about how good he could make you feel. Maybe you could get more than just painkillers while you were in Earth-928. Maybe you could get a little stress relief, too.

That made up your mind. You left the bathroom to find where you hid you gizmo and typed in the code for Miguel’s dimension. The portal appeared in front of you, and when you stepped in, you arrived in the heart of the compound.

Even as late as it was, there were still countless people around you. You navigated your way through the maze of halls back to your apartment. Inside, you found your little bottle of painkillers on the little dresser by your bed. You popped two of them in your mouth and swallowed before walking back out into the hallway.

You couldn’t be sure where Miguel would be, but you figured you’d start where he usually was. The control room wasn’t too far from your apartment, so that’s where you headed. You received several greetings from various Spider-people as you walked through the halls. It was strange being there without your suit on, but you figured that with what you hoped was going to happen, it would be easier in your civvies.

The door of the control room slid open, and to your tremendous relief, Miguel was standing in front of his many monitors with his back turned towards you. His platform was set on the ground for once, and thank goodness, too, since you hadn’t brought your web shooters and wouldn’t be able to swing up to him. Miguel didn’t bother turning around to see who was disturbing him. You stepped into the control room and began walking towards him.

“Burning the midnight oil?” You called out. At the sound of your voice, Miguel turned his head slightly in your direction. “The phrase is ‘burning the midnight wick,’” he corrected. “And it’s not even midnight.” You reached the edge of the platform and stepped up beside him. “Maybe in this dimension, it’s ‘wick,’ but where I’m from, we say ‘oil,’” you told him. “And even if it’s not midnight, it’s still pretty late.”

You pushed yourself up to sit on the desk beside him. Miguel’s eyes glanced away from his screen to look at you briefly. He took in your appearance, and you noticed how his eyes lingered on your bare legs for a second before returning them back to the screen in front of him.

“This needs to be done tonight,” he told you flatly. You hummed, glancing at the screen to see what could be so important. Line after line of clinical language covered the screen, and you only read a few words before growing bored.

“This seems tedious,” you commented. “Maybe you should take a little break.” “I don’t need a break,” he told you evenly. He continued typing away with focused silence, and you watched him as you tried coming up with a new angle to get what you wanted.

“Still,” you continued, “maybe you should anyway.” He looked at you briefly with an unimpressed expression before turning back to his work. “I’m used to late nights,” he told you.

You let out a quiet sigh. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted, but he also wasn’t annoyed at your presence and demanding that you leave him in peace. For Miguel O’Hara, you could almost say that he was in a good mood.

"I thought you were staying in your dimension this week," he commented, breaking the silence between you. You closed your eyes and released a heavy sigh. "Things just aren't so good there right now," you mumbled. When you opened your eyes again, Miguel was watching you with one eyebrow slightly elevated.

"So, you're running away," he concluded. "I'm not running away," you said defensively. "I'm just...taking a break, that's all." Miguel hummed indifferently, and his eyes returned to his screen. "You're taking a break," he repeated slowly, "in my workspace?"

You gave a little huff. You knew why you came here, and you'd hoped he'd know why as well. "I'm just trying to distract myself," you told him, watching him carefully. "Trying to alleviate the stress a little, you know?"

Miguel's fingers paused for a moment, and his eyes glanced at you before returning back to the screen. "And what do you want me to do about it?" He asked, his voice impassive. You knew what he was trying to do. He wanted to hear you say out loud what you wanted from him.

Even though you weren't embarrassed to say it, you felt that being direct made you seem needy. You watched him type away at his reports stone-faced as he waited for your response. He wouldn't get it quite so easily.

"I don't know," you sighed. "You seem busy."

"I'm always busy," he stated evenly.

You hummed. "Well, in that case," you continued casually, "I think I'll go distract myself with someone else. Say, do you know which room Ben Reilly stays in?"

Miguel's eyes flashed away from the screen to your face, and you caught the barely-perceptible furrow of his brow. He didn't answer you, so you said, "That's okay, I'll just ask Lyla. Goodnight."

You pushed yourself off of the desk and began walking away. Faster than you thought possible, Miguel grabbed you by your arm, causing you to halt in your tracks. His grip was firm, tight even, and he jerked you closer to him so that his face hovered inches from your own.

"I said," he began in a low, quiet voice, "what do you want me to do about it?" You felt the corner of your mouth curl upwards. So, he had a bit of a jealous streak. Good to know.

Your eyes fixed on his lips for a moment before glancing back up at his dark stare. "I want you to make me forget about my shitty week," you told him. He studied your face without response before releasing your arm and bringing his hand up to your face. His finger gripped your jaw firmly as he tilted your head up to look him straight in the face.

His stare made your heart start to speed up, and your breathing quickened. Miguel noticed your reaction, and you could see a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "What do you want me to do?" He asked again, eyes fixed on your lips. His face was neutral, but you could hear the smugness in his voice.

Your jaw clenched for a moment as you thought about all the things you wanted him to do to you. So many places to hold, to touch, to kiss. It was a long list, but it all boiled down to one thing.

"I want you to fuck me," you said quietly. "Right here, right now."

His eyes raised from your mouth to meet your gaze, and the ghost of a smile formed on his lips. "Do you now?" He asked, feigning a look of mild surprise. You rolled your eyes. "I can still go find Ben," you huffed, but his grip on your jaw tightened, and he looked down at you with hungry eyes. "I think we both know that's not going to happen," he murmured before pressing his lips to yours.

You smirked against his mouth before his tongue slipped between your lips, and you slowly brought your arms up around his neck. His hand released your jaw and slid down to your neck. He had you backed up and leaning against the desk, and his other hand pushed between your legs.

You gasped softly as the heel of his palm pressed against you. You closed your eyes at the sensation as he moved his hand just enough for you to feel it. You even moved your hips a little, your body involuntarily moving to seek the pleasure you knew he could provide.

"How badly do you want it?" He asked with a low voice. You blinked your eyes open to look up at him. His face was impassive as he stared down at you with his dark eyes.

You scoffed quietly. "Do you want me to beg for it?" You asked. Miguel's deadpan expression didn't change, but one of his eyebrows raised marginally, and the hand around your neck tightened just a little bit.

"I'm a busy man," he told you, his voice like silk. "I need to know how badly want it. Otherwise, maybe you should go find Ben." Your jaw ticked in annoyance. You wanted him badly, and he was calling your bluff. Unfortunately, he was right—you both knew you weren't going to find Ben.

Instead of responding immediately, you lifted a hand up to his chest, looked up at him through your lashes, and gave him a little pout. "You don't want me to do that, do you?" You asked him sweetly. You could see Miguel's jaw tense as he stared down at you, and you hoped that you could charm him into forgetting his question.

He brought his face so close to yours that your noses were touching. There was a faint look of amusement that gleamed in his eyes, and you knew he wasn't falling for it. 

"I want you," he said slowly, "to tell me how badly you want it." He began moving his hand against you more forcefully, and a groan escaped your lips before you could think to hold it back. He knew what he was doing, and his deep voice made you restless for more friction between your legs.

You tried moving against him to increase the pleasure you felt, but Miguel moved his hand back away from you. You let out a soft whine as he took away the very thing you wanted, and you realized that Miguel had complete power over you.

He was looking down at you expectantly, one eyebrow still slightly elevated while his eyes were fixed on your lips. "Well?" He asked in a low voice. "I don't have all night, cariño."

You were defeated. Whatever semblance of pride you still had after seeking him out evaporated at his words. You rubbed your thighs together to try to give yourself relief from the throbbing between your legs, but you knew only Miguel could give you the satisfaction you were needing.

"Please," you said quietly, your lips brushing against his. "I want you so much, it's making me ache." He hummed thoughtfully, the corners of his lips turned ever so slightly upwards in triumph. He placed his hands on your hips and moved them slowly up under your shirt.

"I like when you say please," he murmured as his fingers brushed across your torso. "Say it again."

His tantalizing touch was making your breath shaky, and your desperation was rising. You tried to kiss him, but he pulled his head back a fraction of an inch out of reach. "Please," you whispered against his lips. "I want you to touch me."

That seemed to satisfy him. With a smirk, Miguel breathed, "So needy," before he brought his lips down on yours with ravenous hunger. His tongue danced against your own, and you moaned softly into his mouth. His arm scooped around your lower back and picked you up onto the desk behind you. One of your hands ran up the back of his neck and through his soft hair as you pulled yourself as close to him as possible.

His hot kisses trailed down to your neck, earning shaky gasps from you, while his hands explored your body further. "You still have your souvenir from last time," he noted smugly as his lips pressed down over the bite mark he had left before. "Should I give you another one?"

You wanted to respond, to let him know exactly what you wanted, but his hands had reached your breasts, and his eager grasping stole your ability to speak. Instead, you sighed loudly and leaned into his touch. Miguel was amused by your powerlessness and enjoyed every little sound you made.

He finally decided that he was tired of feeling without seeing, and his hands lifted the shirt up your body and over your head. His eyes moved down to admire your body, and he froze, his expression hardening. You followed his gaze and saw the colored bruising that had formed on your torso.

Oh yeah, you had almost forgotten about that.

There was a beat of tense silence as he stared at your body. "Who did this to you?" He finally asked in a low voice, his eyes fixated on your darkened skin.

You sighed thinking about how you got those bruises. "Just some villain of the week," you told him quietly. Miguel's eyes moved from your torso to your face, and you averted your eyes before mumbling, "It's been a shitty week."

The was a quiet pause as he assessed your body with hard eyes and a clenched jaw. You shifted uncomfortably under his stare, feeling self-conscious of the mottled bruising across your skin. Miguel must have realized because his eyes moved back up to your face, and he placed a slow kiss on your lips.

"Only I can mark you," he whispered, his hands moving across your body again. "Got it?" You smiled as you kissed him back before murmuring, "Yes, sir." Miguel gave a low growl in the back of his throat at your response. "If you keep saying that," he began, "I won't be able to control myself."

You smirked as you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "That's the point," you said smoothly. You traced the edge of his lips with your tongue before adding, "I want everyone in this compound to know what you're doing to me."

Miguel responded by kissing you hungrily and taking your bottom lip between his teeth. You gasped as he bit down just hard enough to not hurt you. He let go after a second and whispered in a hoarse voice, "By the time I'm through with you, there won't be a person who doesn't know."

As he spoke, his hand pushed you down by your chest, and he traced his fingers down your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. Your breath hitched at his soft touch, and you shifted your hips for him. Miguel's expressions were always very subtle, but his eyes displayed the amusement he felt at your eagerness.

His fingers slipped under the waist of your shorts, and he lifted you up just enough to remove them from your body. His mouth twisted into a subtle smirk as he gazed down at you completely uncovered on his desk. His hands slid up the inside of your thighs and pushed them apart gently.

Your breathing grew quicker in anticipation, and chills ran up your body as he touched your tender skin. "So soft," he murmured, lowering his mouth to kiss the inside of your thigh. "I'll make you forget all about your shitty week." You moaned quietly and ran your fingers through his hair.

His kisses trailed upward closer and closer to your aching entrance. Just as his lips reached the top of your thigh, he pulled his head away. You whined softly and tugged at his hair to bring him back down again. "Don't tease," you groaned, earning a dark chuckle from Miguel.

"So needy," he repeated smugly. "You're already so wet for me, aren't you?" Before you could reply, his fingers pressed into you, making you gasp out his name. He sighed as he moved his fingers with agonizing slowness. "Oh, yes you are," he said with a smirk.

You closed your eyes and groaned as his fingers moved inside you. "Oh, Miguel," you whispered quietly through your gasping breaths. He hummed and kissed your stomach softly. "I love it when you say my name like that," he told you, his voice heavy with lust.

His fingers started pumping in and out of you faster. You let out a long moan at the feeling he brought you. He was so good at reading your body, and his fingers curled just right inside you, forcing loud breaths from your mouth. Your eyes were unfocused, and all you could see was the yellow light of the monitors around you.

Miguel placed another kiss on your skin before his pace slowed, and he removed his fingers from your pussy, making you whine and move your hips in search of some relief. "Don't stop, Miguel," you pleaded softly. You blinked down at him, and your eyes met his dark, half-lidded gaze. His whole face was burning with desire as he knelt down in front of the desk, and his hands came to wrap around your thighs while he placed your legs over his shoulders.

"Don't stop saying my name," he murmured before lowering his mouth down onto you. You cried out in pleasure as his mouth moved eagerly against your entrance, leaving you grasping desperately at his hair. "Miguel," you gasped, your legs struggling against his firm grip.

He moaned as he continued eating you out, fueled by the obscene noises you were making. Your back arched off the desk, and your hips moved in an effort to increase the pace he had set. Miguel took the hint and began lapping his tongue against your clit faster and harder.

Your whole body was writhing with pleasure, your legs squeezing against his hands hard enough to leave bruises while you tugged at his hair. You couldn't breath properly from how good it all felt, but just when Miguel found the right rhythm, he stopped and lifted his head up.

A needy whine escaped your mouth, and your eyes fluttered open to look down at him. "I told you not to stop saying my name," he reminded you sternly, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Yes, sir," you panted, shifting your hips to search for some kind of sensation. That wasn't quite what he was looking for, and he continued staring up at you expectantly. "Miguel, please, don't stop," you begged desperately, completely disregarding any self-respect you still had.

Miguel's annoyed expression softened in satisfaction. "There's my good girl," he murmured before lowering his mouth back down on you.

Your whole body tensed again as he resumed his zealous pace. This time, you didn't forget his rule, and his name kept spilling from your lips practically every other second. Your eyes were squeezed shut, and your legs were flexing in his strong grip.

How he always managed to touch you just right was beyond your comprehension. He found the perfect rhythm with the perfect amount of pressure to make you forget everything except his name. All around you, your panting and moaning filled the air, and Miguel was making good on his promise of erasing every terrible thing that had happened to you that week from your mind.

Your back was arching off the desk as you felt a tightness in your stomach forming. Miguel recognized how close you were, and he adjusted his hold on your legs to pry them further apart while he continued eating you out ravenously. Shuddering moans emerged from your mouth, and you managed to gasp his name out one last time before you lost control and began shaking as your orgasm crashed over you.

Your fingers pulled at his hair, and your other hand reached over your head to grip the edge of the desk while you raised your hips up off the ledge. Miguel kept his mouth firmly pressed to you as you moved restlessly against him. Every muscle in your body was tensed as long, breathy moans filled the air.

Your eyes were screwed shut, and you didn't see the satisfied look in Miguel's eyes as he watched you unravel against his mouth. Your legs tried squeezing together, but his arms were stronger than you, and his hands ensured that you couldn't move away from his mouth.

After a few moments, your body began writhing at his unceasing pace, and you let out a whining gasp as you tried escaping from his tongue. "No more," you cried out, trying desperately to push his head away while his mouth began overstimulating you. Your legs tightened, and you tried moving your hips up and away from him, but Miguel kept his grip around your thighs and his face firmly planted between them.

"Miguel, please!" You begged through clenched teeth, the sensation of his tongue now becoming almost painful.

Mercifully, Miguel relented, lifting his mouth off of you and relaxing his arms. He watched with sadistic satisfaction at the way your body was trembling and how soft whimpers escaped your lips. You had one arm draped across your forehead as you recovered your breath while your other hand finally released the grasp you had on his hair.

"Not so fun when the tables are turned?" He asked in a cocky tone. You didn’t reply for a moment while you took time to try and breathe properly again. When your erratic heart began slowing down, your arm slid off your forehead, and you looked down at Miguel. His lips and chin were glistening with your wetness, and the corners of his mouth tugged upwards triumphantly. He seemed proud of himself for causing you to unravel so completely.

"So that was payback?" You replied quietly, your throat dry from all the panting and gasping. You remembered how fun it was to overstimulate Miguel the first time you were together, and now it seems that he had settled the score.

He hummed thoughtfully as he placed a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh, eliciting a soft sigh from you. "Payback would be tying you up nice and pretty for me," he stated, his eyes glinting at the mental image of you in bondage. Your heart sped up at the notion, and it made your breathing quicken again.

He sighed and placed another kiss to your thigh before rising up off his knees. "Don't worry, though," he said softly as your legs slid off his shoulders. "I'm saving that one for later." His eyes wandered across your naked form as he wiped his mouth with his hand.

"Are you just gonna stare or are you going to take your suit off?" You questioned with a smirk. His gaze returned to your face, and he gave a quiet huff of amusement. His hand traveled slowly up your stomach to your chest in admiration before he sighed again.

"Not tonight, nena," he said finally in a soft voice. Your eyebrows quirked together in surprise, and you looked up at him with an unspoken question in your eyes. Miguel understood your confusion and raised his hand up from your chest to run his thumb across your chin. "I'm a busy man," he reminded you. "And we'd make a big mess all over my workspace."

Your lips pulled into a crooked grin at his words. Letting out a little sigh, you nodded and whispered, "Okay." His dark eyes stared down at you for a second, studying your body intently. You wished you had the ability to read minds because it was impossible to discern what he was thinking.

You started to sit up but paused with a small grunt as your bruised ribs reminded you to move slower. "Forgot?" Miguel asked with a hint of humor in his voice. "I guess so," you muttered, laying back down with a lazy smile, "thanks to you."

The corner of his mouth turned upward, and he leaned over and kissed you. You could still taste yourself on his tongue. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and he slowly pulled back without breaking your kiss to help you sit up.

"Thanks," you whispered to him. He looked down at you with eyes that could almost be described as soft. "De nada," he murmured quietly. Your arms slid off of his shoulders with a sigh, and you reached for your discarded shirt next to you.

Miguel stepped back and rolled his shoulders slowly. He looked back at the yellow screens around him, and you could tell that he did not want to go back to work. "You don't have to work all the time, you know," you commented as you stooped down for your shorts.

He paused before replying, "This needs to be done tonight." You glanced at the glowing screens full of transcripts of various missions, descriptions of anomalies, and reports of canon disruptions.

"Suit yourself," you told him. You had your clothes on, and you figured it was time to go. You offered him a small smile and said, "Goodnight, Miguel," before turning to walk away.

You had taken about five steps before Miguel's voice called out, "You should stay in the compound tonight." You paused and turned around to look at him. He was facing one of his many screens, but his head was turned slightly toward you, and he was watching your reaction from the corner of his eye. "And maybe keep your door unlocked," he added.

His words made a smirk grow slowly on your face. "I always keep it unlocked," you told him. He shook his head, but you could see he was suppressing a faint smile. "That's a terrible habit," he muttered. "Maybe," you conceded, turning back around again, "but I think you can use it to your advantage."

You could feel Miguel's eyes watching you as you walked out of the control room, and you headed straight for your compound apartment to wait for him.