#header big time rush

[artiemisia]

⊹ big time rush S02E05 headers ɞ..

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© screencaps by @neverscreens

[hellfire--cult]

MafiaBoss!Alpha!Eddie Munson x Omega!Fem!Reader

wc: 17k

+18, omegaverse, boss and secretary, possessive behaviour, jealousy, blood mentions, biting, rough, smut, p in v (unprotected), oral (both ways), slight dubcon at a point, mentions of nancy x reader, fingering, heat and rutting behaviour, breeding kink, spit, marking, degradation

Plot: Being the secretary of a Mafia boss was not easy, much less when you believed your boss was your scent mate and you knew he made your omega coworkers stay after hours to fuck them, yet he never called you to stay. It was time to move on, but your boss smelled the scent of another Alpha on you and decided to make sure you knew who you belonged to.

A/N: it was intended to be just a smut thing, never to be this long. Oh well, enjoy 9k words of pure filth out of that count. this isn't the header i intended, but it'll do

Don't be lazy and reblog.

AFTER HOURS

You didn’t want to pay it much attention. 

You absolutely didn’t. 

But you couldn’t help yourself as you smelled him, walking through the doors a room away. That scent was filled with ash and iron, yet it was intoxicating in the most addicting of ways. You didn’t want to be loving his scent, but you just couldn't avoid it. The omega inside of you always craved to go closer for a deeper smell, but you couldn’t.

He is your boss and you can’t want him this way. You can’t. You’re his secretary, well, one of them. There are four of you in total, always sitting outside of his office at your respective desks. Your coworkers are Omegas, just like yourself, and you have known them for over six months since you started working here.

You found the job offer through a friend of yours, Robin. Your beta best friend that told you her girlfriend was looking for a new secretary at her workplace. You were desperate to leave your old job, being dragged around by a misogynistic Alpha, telling you you were too dumb to be more than a mere assistant, even if you were great at your work and did it all so he would not have anything to do during the day.

You were shoving your resume in Robin’s hands the second she said that. You wanted out, you needed out, and Robin gladly passed it on to her girlfriend. You were called for an interview a week later, but you didn’t expect the job offer to come from one of the highest social buildings in the city. 

You never knew what was inside but you could only guess it was a big company of some sort. When walking through the building, you could smell iron all around you, not blood to be exact, but just a strong smell. It smelled… powerful. A scent that intensified the more you walked through the office.

Then you finally saw Chrissy, going into a glassed room for your interview. You had met Chrissy before, but just a wave from afar. Robin told you Chrissy preferred to stay away from social events, or from meeting new people because of her work. That threw you off but your friend smiled apologetically and you didn’t press on the subject.

As the interview went on, the iron smell got stronger, sharper, only for you to turn around and for your eyes to clash against deep brown ones with dilated pupils. The smell was coming from him. From the man dressed in black outside of the room, his face almost touching the glass, his breath fogging it from how hard he was inhaling and exhaling. 

You remember how awe-struck you were with him, and you remember how badly you wanted to get up from your chair to rush after him. But you saw him take a step back, giving Chrissy a nod and then walking away. You were confused and looked at Chrissy with a questioning look and that’s when you found out.

This was the Komodo mafia gang. They owned many businesses, residences, buildings… You were being interviewed to be Eddie Munson’s secretary. Eddie Munson is an alpha, and the boss of this gang. The owner. The leader. 

Your thoughts were cut off when you saw the doors open, your head whipping to the side to see your boss walking in, ripping his blazer off, the smell of actual blood rushing into the room. All the omegas winced at the smell, as well as the other betas that were walking around with paperwork in their hands. 

Your worry raised, unlike the other Omegas who were aroused or scared in the room, you were worried. Did something happen to him? Is the blood splattered on his shirt his own? Someone else’s? Your nose twitched as a sweet note of vanilla invaded you, and you saw Eddie walking by your desk, giving you a pointed look.

“I’m fine. Anything I need to catch up on?” His voice was low as he stood in front of your desk and you stood up as you tried to go back into your professional stance, shaking your head.

“No sir. I already knew that Kromstar’s dealership had to be sealed in the morning, so I took care of that.” You stood proudly, chin tilted up as you looked at your boss’s reaction. A small smirk was sent your way, followed by a single nod. You grabbed the paperwork from your desk and raised it towards him.

“Perfect. Good job my Rose.” He leaned forward, his hands reaching to hold the paperwork, but the tip of his index finger ran over yours and your breath left your lungs for a second as an electric shock ran down your spine. Your eyes locked with his as you saw his nose flare up slightly and then he took a step back from you.

“Do you– need me to get you some fresh clothes, Mr. Munson?” You kept your voice to a normal level, steady, professional. He shook his head as his eyes scanned your face, only to then look away and start walking towards his office.

“No, Chrissy already prepared stuff for me.” And like that, the scent slowly went away as he closed the doors to his office behind him. You turned your head to see the other omegas and betas looking at you and then returned to their business. 

You sighed as you sat down again. Rose. His Rose. Eddie named his workers with flowers, but the only one that he called by her name was Chrissy. Steve, the male omega, he called Sunflower. Heather, the other female omega, he called Cosmo, and then Carol he called Carnation.

When you were named Rose you were surprised. You wondered what color of rose he pictured when naming you it. Was it pink? Red? White? A rosebud? A single rose? What colors were the other Omegas? Either way, your name caused a string of rumors that didn’t cease until a month later from your first day at your new job.

But he never referred to them as… his. You were the only one. You always wondered why.

You looked up to see Steve and Heather gossiping, and you wondered why you were never close to them. It was fairly civil, but you can’t say you shared a single lunch with them, nor with Carol. You guessed you were not part of their group because–

“Sunflower.” Chrissy’s voice made your head snap towards the big black office doors, her head peeking out. She sent a small greeting smile your way, which you reciprocated before she turned her head back to Steve, who was standing up from his desk so the Alpha knew she had his attention. “Stay after hours tonight.”

You heard a chirp coming from Steve’s way, the scent of lust filling the room as well as happiness. Heather’s scent soured as she received a shoulder wiggle from Steve, showing himself off. Your stomach twirled, moved all around, and you looked down at your paperwork, knowing your scent might be bitter.

You felt your body burn with anger, sadness, and jealousy, the omega inside of you wanting to let out a whine of distress. It was not fair. You were pretty sure you were the one who wanted him the most, you were sure of it… Six months you worked here, six months you’ve seen the other three omegas being called in for after hours, knowing damn well the Alpha was fucking them behind his office doors, and…

You were never called.

Not once. You came to the conclusion he did it to keep it professional with at least one of his secretaries, but– why did it have to be you? Why? His scent drives you crazy, so much so that after that first interview you went into a triggered heat, and you weren’t even near your heat date. 

But you felt his stare. You felt it many times. You saw how his nose flared every time he came close to you, smelling you, taking in your scent just like you did with him. Your omega wanted to jump on the Alpha, and much more knowing he is a good man. He donates to schools and helps with the medical bills of many elderly people in the hospitals. Elderly people that have no one or very little. Not to mention how safe you knew you would be with someone like him. You and your pups would be cared for exceptionally.

Your Omega yearns to be submissive to this Alpha, to be bred by him, mated, protected… But Eddie can’t even see you as a random fuck. He sees you as just what you are. His secretary. You are nothing else but his dutiful, professional secretary. Nothing more, nothing less. You were the only secretary he didn’t fuck so that the job gets done, unlike the other three.

But later on, when you were already out of the office doors, you noticed you left your jacket behind. You would have not cared for it and just retrieved it the next day if it weren't for the fact that it was a friday, and it was your favorite jacket. So you went back up, all the way to the 23rd floor. 

And god you wish you hadn’t.

The smell of sex filled your nostrils as you walked out of the elevator doors. His scent, spiked, aroused, strong, and fierce. You walked by the cubicles where a few betas were still typing away stuff, only caring for the job to be done. Guards stood by the door where your desk was, your office.

You were let in and you felt your knees weaken and tremble the closer you got to the desk, which was the closest to Eddie’s door. His office. You could hear the purring, the moaning, Steve calling Eddie’s name, and–

“Alpha– Knot me– Knot me, please–”

You felt like vomiting. You needed to get out of there. You needed to run. You needed to leave this place. Your hand snatched the jacket off the back of your chair and you rushed out of the doors and past all the cubicles. You didn’t want to think about it. You couldn’t bear to think about Eddie knotting someone. 

As soon as the doors of the elevators closed, you let yourself whine and sob a couple of times as tears filled your eyes. Why do you feel so rejected? Nothing ever happened between the two of you. Nothing. The words were very little, and the most physical contact you had with him was the brushing of fingertips when he reached for something that was on your hand.

It didn’t make sense, but it might mean you found your scent mate… only that it’s one-sided. If it is that, you would have to leave the city. Leaving the job only won’t do the trick, you need to leave the city, fuck, even the state. 

You felt your belly cramp less and less the more floors you went down and the less you could smell the aroused Omega and the feral Alpha. You can’t keep doing this. Maybe you need the distraction. You need someone else.

These six months you’ve been working here, there was this pull or this sense of respect that didn’t allow you to properly agree to dates or encounters with other people. Not even betas. You didn’t know why but you just felt like you needed to reject these advances. Your hands gripped your purse and zipped it open, taking out your cell phone and opening your Instagram.

Maybe this will help you feel better.

It did, yet it didn’t.

It did because Nancy was very sweet. The Alpha met you through Robin at a party once, and you chatted all night long, exchanging usernames on Instagram with one another. She messaged you a couple of times but soon after you started your new job and you didn’t feel the need to engage with her in such a manner any longer.

And when meeting with her she was kind, and respectful, and you were the one that had to initiate the flirting stance of the night out. Nancy was a good alpha. She looked like she could take care of you, so you didn’t mind when she asked if you wanted to go back to her place. 

That’s when your mind couldn’t help but think of someone else when having sex with Nancy.

It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to imagine him, but you felt like if you didn’t you wouldn’t have been able to even suck her cock. You don’t know what to make out of it, but you wanted her to knot you. You wanted it so you could confirm if you had an unrequited scent mate situation, and by the looks of it, it seems you did… You didn’t let Nancy knot you. You backed out at the last minute.

Her knot bumped into your entrance a couple of times, but you couldn’t let it in. You just let out warning growls at her everytime it did and Nancy respected it. But, even amidst all of that, you at least had your thirst quenched. Even if a bit and with someone you didn’t truly want.

Now monday, back in the forsaken office you want to burn down to start a whole new torturous week. You were at your desk, putting your paperwork away as Carol talked to you from hers, steps away from yours.

“Someone had fun.” She snickers as she chews on her gum and you glance once at her and back down, Steve’s voice filling your ears.

“Carol, knock it off.” Out of the three omegas, Steve was the most tolerable one. You looked up at him and he gave you a nod and then looked back down at his papers. Carol scrunched her nose and then started writing down on her contracts. 

You wondered if the three showers you took were not enough. You were sure it was enough. You didn’t have any marks on you, you told Nancy not to leave any. You sighed at how unprofessional this might make you seem in front of everyone. You tried taking the scent off but it seems it didn’t work and now everyone knows. 

The iron scent filled your nostrils and you knew your boss got off the elevator. All of you got up from your desks to receive your boss, but your nose scrunched when you started smelling something bitter or pungent. The doors opened with Eddie, followed by Chrissy right on his heels. His hands were in his pockets as the four secretary omegas gave a nod and a greeting to their boss. 

He was about to pass by you but he suddenly stopped. You tilted your head as you saw his nose flaring slightly. The scent in the room became a little suffocating, your knees feeling like they wanted to give up on you and it seemed that it was taking an effect on the other omegas because you could hear Heather whining in fear in the corner of the room.

You didn’t know what was going on, but then another scent joined in, spicy, alarmed. Chrissy was inspecting Eddie’s back and then she slowly turned to face you. Her eyes widened slightly as she took a deep breath in. 

Your eyes were wide, eyebrows meeting in the middle as you saw Eddie slowly turning to face you. His eyes were black, pure black. You could feel your omega wanting to submit, to ask for forgiveness, but for what? You didn’t do anything wrong, so why is his anger directed towards you? 

“Mr. Munson?” Your voice was small and worried, but you needed to know why he was looking at you like he wanted to… kill you? 

“Mr. Munson, I think we should head inside.” Chrissy’s hand pressed on his shoulder as Eddie’s eyes kept scanning you, from head to toe. Did you do something? Did you forget to do paperwork on friday? Did you miss a client? No, it’s not like you… but who knows? You are human.

Eddie’s face got closer to yours as you stood there, looking at him as he towered over you, his presence bigger than this room, and you felt like you were being suffocated. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, his breath hitting your face as it came out of his nostrils in harsh puffs. 

His face was tense, his jaw clenched, and a vein was popping out on his forehead. Then you heard a low rumble, a vibration and you realized that he was growling. Your boss was growling at you. You whined slightly now, knowing you had done something wrong. You didn’t know what but he was displeased with you, no, he was angry, furious with you.

“Sir–” Chrissy tried again, this time more alarmed, more pressure in her tone, but keeping her Alpha rank below Eddie’s. She sounded worried as she looked at you and then back at Eddie, and– was he going to fire you? What did you do?

Eddie growled loudly as a rough hand made your pen holder fly across the room and hit the wall with force. You gasped and jumped one step back at the sudden aggressiveness, never having seen your boss like this. You were scared, worried, alarmed, but you wanted to apologize, for whatever you did. 

The male Alpha huffed once and marched into his office. Chrissy was breathing heavily and then looked at you, shaking her head to calm you down. You didn’t notice the whine that was leaving your throat until Chrissy tried to shush you.

“What– Did I forget to do something on friday?” You were trembling, and Chrissy shook her head and was about to press a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you, only to retreat before doing so.

“N-No… he– had a rough weekend. Please, don’t be alarmed omegas, just– Please, have a twenty-minute break and come back.” Chrissy gave you one last glance before she turned and rushed into the Alpha’s office. You looked at the other Omegas in the room and they were as confused as you but more scared. The guard nodded to you all towards the other door, and you wanted to barge into his office and ask if he was okay. Ask for forgiveness, or do something to make him feel better.

But as you were escorted out for your break, you started hearing things breaking inside his office as well as muffled yelling. You held a whine in as your body trembled and then you walked out of your office. You looked at the other three omegas who only crossed their arms at you with frowns on their faces.

“What the fuck did you do?” Heather asked and you shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“I– I swear I don’t know, I– I did all my work on friday and I rechecked today and everything is fine?” Your heart wanted to explode and your stomach twisted with nerves and you needed to pace. You needed to let go of the energy that was consuming you. The omegas followed you as you walked towards the balcony to get some air, the murmurs of your other coworkers making your head throb. You didn’t need the speculations or people making more rumors about you. Not right now.

“You did something! Did you check properly?” Steve asked this time and you growled at them, taking them aback. Omegas hardly growled, only when purely distressed or displeased.

“I didn’t! Maybe it was one of you that lacked on their job to get their pussy wet with the boss and since I’m the only one that actually works, I get the fucking blame!” Your voice was loud, high-pitched, angry, and fed up. Carol cleared her throat and scoffed as she squinted at you.

“Don’t blame it on us. It’s not our fault he doesn’t want to touch a single strand of your head.” Your heart plummeted to the ground at that and Steve pressed a hand on Carol’s shoulder only for her to rip it out of his grasp and walk away. 

You were looking down at the floor, and you felt your eyes fill with tears. You heard Steve and Heather mumble something to one another before walking away, and then all you could hear was the beating of your heart in your ears. What did you do? What have you done so badly, so wrongly, for him to get angry like this?

Will you get fired? Maybe… Fuck, what if you do get fired? But didn’t you want to? Wasn’t that one of the best decisions for you? You didn’t want to feel this anymore, this rejection, this pain in your gut. You don’t want to be near him any longer, not if you have to watch him be with others all the time. Watch him choose others before you. You can’t keep doing that to yourself.

So maybe if he fires you it is for the best. Whatever the reason might be. You would be able to move on at one point, leaving the city, away from him and his scent. Yes, it will hurt leaving Robin behind, but you can’t bear it. You can’t. Seeing him this angry at you, not only makes you feel little and useless, but also it adds up to the rejection. You feel unwanted, undesired.

You take your time, taking deep breaths before walking back. The other three already returned to their desks, but you took one more minute to yourself. You took a deep breath in before you walked through your office doors and you could hear your coworkers typing away, in silence.

The air was tense, the scent around you all was covered by sprays and blockers, yet you could still smell the bitterness, the sourness, the musk. You just wanted to head home. You needed to head home. Maybe you can call Chrissy and tell her you don’t feel well. Yeah, you’ll do that.

You walked towards your desk and slowly sat down on your chair. As soon as you did, Eddie’s door opened and Chrissy walked out, closing the door behind her. All the omegas snapped their heads to look at her, expectantly, except for you. You knew that when Chrissy walked out of Eddie’s office it meant–

“You’ll stay after hours tonight.” That. She always says that. Wait–

“Huh?” Your head snapped upwards to see Chrissy looking down at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“You’ll stay after hours tonight. No questions asked, you cannot reject it. You must stay.”

Your eyes were wide as you looked at how she turned and walked back into the black doors, the guard moving away for her to enter. You looked at the door, and stared at it as if what just happened was a fantasy that happened in your head. There’s– 

Your breathing accelerated as you looked down at the desk. This wasn’t like when he asked for Steve or Heather or Carol to stay, wasn’t it? You couldn’t smell anything, fuck, you couldn’t smell what he was feeling at all. You can still smell the bitterness despite the blockers in the room, but you don’t know if it is remnants of before or–

“Hey, hey, you need to calm down.” You didn’t notice Steve was in front of you with worry in his eyes as he rested his palms on your desk. You looked at him, frowning, lip trembling, and you didn’t notice the whines coming from your throat. Your eyes filled with tears as the anxiety consumed you, and you were in clear distress.

“I mean, Steve, she has every right to be like this, it’s not like he is calling her to do what he does to us.” Heather snickered on the corner, disguising her displeasure of you being called tonight, but also calm because the boss was not in a good mood at all. That comment didn’t make you feel any better, if anything, it made you feel worse. 

The first time you are asked to stay after hours, and it’s because you might get fired or– killed? It looked like that. He looked like he was going to eat you or rip you to shreds, not sexually. It didn’t look like that for you at all, and the scent he was leaving was a clear giveaway.

“Heather, shut the fuck up, you’re not helping.” Steve bared his teeth slightly at the coworker and all you could do was stare down at your desk. You started frowning as you looked down at your papers. Everything is fine… You know it. You know everything you did was right and on time. Work wise? You were impeccable.

Your posture changed as you straightened up and took a deep breath in. You cleared your throat and gathered your papers and looked at your computer. You will recheck but, you know everything was fine. You looked at Steve and directed a soft smile his way.

“I’m fine. It was nice working with you Steve, I say this just in case we don’t see eachother after today.” Your voice became low, calm as your thoughts settled. Whatever you did, it wasn’t of your knowledge, or whatever someone else did and blamed it on you. You know you did everything right, so even if you’re scared… terrified, you will stand your ground.

Steve only cleared his throat and walked back to his desk as Heather and Carol looked back down to their computers as they shared one look. It wasn’t nice working with them, you weren’t going to lie to them, but Steve was the only one that helped you with stuff, despite him fucking your possible scent mate.

Now it was a matter of waiting, looking at your watch as the hours went by, and your nerves started eating away your intestines, your stomach, just everything. You felt like you were being consumed slowly but you had to keep your head straight. You were not going to be chewed for something you didn’t do, or a misunderstanding, or a rumor.

You might not return to your office tomorrow, so you started putting some of your stuff all together in your drawer, maybe someone will bring you a cardboard box for later on. Steve was looking at you from the corner of his eye, eyebrows frowned as he typed away.

And then, 6 PM arrived. Chrissy walked out from the black doors and looked at the other three Omegas with a sharp look.

“Leave immediately.” Your breath was taken out of your lungs as you heard her authoritative tone, her Alpha voice vibrating against the walls of your office. Steve gave you one last look before he got up from his chair and ducked his head as a goodbye. You stayed in your chair as you saw how the other omegas left the office giving you final glances.

Your heart was accelerated, wanting to break out from your chest and you felt the blood rushing through your ears like a waterfall. You looked at Chrissy and she turned to face the guard. Without a word, the guard that was on Eddie’s door walked out of your office, surprising you because the guards never left.

“Um… why is Geoffrey–” 

“You must stay on this floor. The boss doesn’t want…” Chrissy bit her tongue as she looked at you with a frown. You didn’t know if it was stern, or worried, or a mixture of both. “Get inside his office once you do not hear anyone else. Good luck Rose.”

And then you saw Chrissy walking out of the door of your office. You sucked in a breath as you saw from the open door how all the betas were being commanded to leave, which never happened. There were always a few who stayed or did night shifts. Your breath was heavy as you realized Chrissy was clearing out the floor, leaving you and Eddie as the only people on it.

You heard the elevator ding many times as people left. You still couldn’t smell anything, and you didn’t notice you were scratching the wood of your desk from your anxiety. You sharpened your ear until no more dings came from outside. You gulped as you shakily stood up from your chair and looked at the big black double doors. 

You stepped away and fixed yourself, wanting to appear unaffected or as professional as possible, not wanting him to know how anxious you were. You took a few steps towards his office, your heels clicking on the floor. You took a sharp deep breath in as your hand trembled, grabbing the door handle. You then opened it and– oh god–

The scent was strong, pungent, making your nose burn. It was a mixture of so many smells, including wood, lemon, ash, and leather? Musk? But you also noticed the hint of bitterness, of sourness. Strong and sharp. It was suffocating, yet– you could feel your belly turning, strongly, pulling you to him. You felt your body growing hot, just like it always did when you caught his scent but this time it was ten times worse.

You held your breath in order to concentrate on your task of walking inside, seeing his back turned to you, behind his desk, and looking out his big windows, going all the way to the very tall ceiling. His hair was tied up in a bun, wearing a black buttoned-up shirt with a loosened burgundy tie around his neck, with the sleeves rolled up just under his elbows and his black pants. He had a cigarette in his hand and you could see the smoke leaving him as it went over his head.

“Lock the door after you walk in.” His voice was demanding, not yet authoritative. You wanted to run away from this confrontation but you knew he would come in contact with you one way or another. 

You slowly stepped inside, feeling like every step was one step closer to your doom, or to something unknown. You closed the door and took a deep breath in as you locked the door just as he ordered. Were you… going to die? Did you read something you shouldn’t have? You don’t remember anything that would have made you think you shouldn’t have, so–

“Come closer Rose.” His voice was strained, angry still. You gulped and followed his instructions, slowly taking steps closer to him until you were ten steps away from his desk. The scent was stronger and you felt like kneeling before him as you felt wetness start to pool inside your underwear. You were embarrassed, but maybe he won't notice if you don’t show it. Fuck his scent for making you this way, you might die right now, and all you can feel is being horny?

“Sir… What do you… need me for?” You asked, slowly and mostly submissive, to show him that whatever he says will go, at least for now. You heard a rumble, and you didn’t know if it was a groan or a growl. He took a puff out of his cigarette before speaking again.

“Do you know why you’re here?” 

“Not really… Did I do something to make you this displeased?” It was a risky question, but someone had to break the ice for it. 

“You did.” You felt your breath being knocked out of your lungs. Fuck, what did you do? What could you have possibly done? Whatever you did was no small thing, remembering how he threw your pen holder across the room. 

“I– I checked everything I did on friday and I didn’t notice anything– Was it something my colleagues had to do that–”

“Did she knot you?”

Your mouth fell open as you looked at his back, your heart stopping completely at the question. How did he–?

“What?”

“I asked you a question, Rose, so you answer it accordingly.” And then your boss slowly started turning around, and you felt your blood leaving your body as his eyes, now all black, not a single speck of brown anywhere looked into your soul. You couldn’t see his irises from how dilated his pupils were. His features were clenched, eyebrows tense, and when he fully turned to you, you saw how his chest was moving quicker than normal because of his breathing. “Did. She. Knot. You.”

Your eyes looked into his again, noticing the anger, the rage, the desperation that lingers there. Your scent probably spiked right now because irritation coursed through you. How dare he? Why? You need confirmation that he has the information of your personal life, because, why the fuck would he need it?

“I’m sorry Sir, she?”

“Nancy Wheeler. 27. Journalist. Presented at the age of 15 as an Alpha, moved to the city of Chicago three years ago to pursue her career. She has two siblings, her father, and mother still alive, no Omega mated to her, so this is your last chance to answer. Did she knot you?” His voice was low, commanding, not yet authoritative in his Alpha tone, but it was coming to it. Your lip twitched at this man's audacity, not understanding the reason for the interrogation.

“With due respect, I don’t think my personal affairs are important at all.” And then Eddie’s hands slammed against the desk and your eyes widened when the Alpha’s teeth were suddenly bared, growling at you, the noise sending a wave of daggers across your entire skin.

“I CAN SMELL HER ON YOU!” His voice was loud enough that you felt like the walls shook from its vibration. Your heart was about to explode as you took a step backwards, your belly turning in fear as well as– arousal? Nerves? You couldn’t pinpoint it, but his scent was becoming stronger and stronger and it was making your mind turn hazy and your belly cramp slightly.

How dare he? How dare he ask something like that? Why does he care or why does he acknowledge it? Is it because Nancy’s Alpha scent was stronger than his? Was his ego crushed? You stepped back to the place you were standing, your face stern as you defied your boss, your senses on alert and sharp as you looked at him, trying not to glare to not create more discourse.

“I repeat, I do not believe my personal business has anything to do with you, sir. I do not meddle in yours, except work-related. All professional business.��� Your voice was firm and assertive, yet there was a hint of shakiness behind it. Of course there was, Eddie was still baring his teeth at you, the air around you clenching your lungs, tightly, wanting to rip them apart.

He put out the cigarette on the ashtray, or one would say he smashed it into it from the force he sent his hand down. His nose scrunched up in distaste as he clenched his eyes tightly as if trying to contain himself from something. You were overwhelmed with all the Alpha pheromones that were around you, and you couldn’t understand the reason behind the question. You opened your mouth to speak again but he interrupted you with a rough tone.

“Why the fuck did you let another alpha touch you?” He asked but you didn’t know if he was asking it to you or if he was talking to himself because he was still not looking at you. He was clenching his eyes as his hands gripped the edge of the desk. You noticed the veins popping on his forearms, underneath the ink, you could still see the bumps thanks to the reflection of the soft lamps around you. 

“Sir–”

“And you didn’t even take her scent off of you. You didn’t wash her fucking scent off your skin.” His eyes looked into yours again, his top lip twitching into showing off his teeth again but he was containing himself so it seemed. You gulped and looked down at your feet, trying to control your breathing as you felt yourself becoming smaller each second he stared at you.

“I– I tried. I thought I managed but– I’m sorry if it is unprofessional–” and you heard him let out a sarcastic chuckle, making you look back up at him.

“Unprofessional? Yes. You can call it that… so I’ll take that stench off of you.” Your eyebrows knitted together in the center of your forehead, not understanding the meaning of his words.

“You’ll– I don’t understand?” And the room became silent. You made a displeased sound when you felt some slick soaking your panties and it started being a little uncomfortable. You wanted to bolt out of here, you wanted to go away but you felt– you felt like you were being preyed on. You felt like fucking prey.

“I will take that putrid smell away. I will replace it with my scent.”

And you froze. You felt as if all the blood had drained from your body in just one instant. You couldn’t feel the tip of your fingers as you watched him as he rounded the desk, steps slowly taken, the sound muffled by the single large carpet against the wooden floor. You were breathing as best as you could as your mind processed his words. 

His scent? Why? You two– 

“We– Why?” 

“Because you are mine.” And that made your blood come back to your veins, but it was burning now. His? You’re his? You saw how his eyebrow twitched at the change of attitude inside of you once again.

“Yours? I’m not yours, sir. I am free to do as I please… just like you are.” You saw his jaw clenching at your defiance as he stood in front of you, two steps away, towering over you. He smelled so good, but so strong, so dangerously strong. He squinted his eyes slightly at you as he scanned your body, and then back at your face.

“Time to change that. Strip.” You couldn’t process his words correctly in your brain. What did he say? Why–

“What–?” His eyes were staring into your soul as his hands clenched at his sides.

“Strip.” And you didn’t want to comply, you wanted answers first, or at least for him to realize how hypocritical he was being. Your body trembled with the need of submission but you prevailed, not wanting to fall for it.

“I don’t see the need to.” And that’s when you heard it, the growl, and his teeth were bared once more. 

“I said, strip, Omega.” His voice, now authoritative in his Alpha command. You felt yourself become limp, your mind shutting off slightly from rationality and control. You could only tear up as your hands went towards the buttons of your blouse against your will. You wanted answers, you needed them, not do this. 

His eyes watched you as you slowly undressed, and every try of you gaining control of your hands once again was useless. If it were another Alpha, you could have probably fought the command, but Eddie was your kryptonite. Now you are sure he is your scent mate, though you are not his. This is enough proof. Not being able to stop at all, even if there might be danger, that’s when your omega is in complete submission to THEIR alpha.

Your hands removed your blouse first, then you unzipped, and dropped your tube skirt, then got out of your shoes. You were not looking at him as you felt your eyes burning, your hands moving towards your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall down. The last piece of clothing were your black lace panties. 

You didn’t realize you were trembling as your hand got under the elastic of your underwear, but a hand stopped you. A ringed, tattooed hand gently grasped yours and you felt yourself breathing again, for some reason feeling safe. You shortly realized it was him releasing calming pheromones towards you. His feelings were being a whiplash for you, not understanding the brutal change, not understanding if he wanted to intimidate you or rather calm you.

“You– You have your fun with the other omegas… why can’t I have my own?” Your voice came out small, but then you raised your head to look at him. His eyes were black, pitch black. His nose was flaring as he looked at you and his mouth was slightly open, and you took notice of his fangs being enlarged somewhat. You frowned at the display, at how– desperate he looked.

“I will ask… one more time…” His voice low, strained, and there was a hint of begging behind it. “Did she knot you?”

And your face twisted, your scent soured making his nose scrunch up, his eyebrow twitch as he scanned your features. 

“Did you knot them? Sunflower? Carnation? All?” You hissed through your teeth, your displeasure known for once and for all, and then, the room felt as if it spun around you, oxygen was exchanged for his smell.

A loud snarl was heard from him, vibrating within himself and you swore you could feel it inside you as well from how intense it was. How alarming. How threatening. How empowering. How… possessive. It made you shiver, whimper, and look at him with eyes filled with uncertainty, fear, excitement, arousal, and nervousness– just a mix of many emotions.

And you knew he could smell you. You knew he could smell the slick, your juices just making a mess out of your thin thong, coming out from the sides and already dampening your inner thighs. You couldn’t help yourself, you couldn’t help how your limbs were trembling for his touch, and you didn’t have to wait long for it, just not how you expected.

Tattooed hands went towards the loosened tie around his neck and undid it in one single tug. Your heart skipped a beat as he put the tie in his mouth, biting onto it, while he grabbed your wrists, making you gasp at the sudden touch, but then– fear mixed with arousal. He held your wrists together in front of you with just one hand, while he used the other to wrap the tie around them, expertly, and then tying them up together. 

It was tight, a small whimper getting stuck in your throat.

His right hand flew to the back of your head, clenching your hair in a warning and threatening grip, a hiss falling from your lips as he pulled your face closer to his. His hot breath falling on your lips like molten lava, his eyes long gone from rationality, and you know, you just know, you cannot defy him. Not now.

“On your knees.” He didn’t use his Alpha tone. He didn’t have to. Despite your fear, the twist in your gut, your dignity yelling at you at the back of your head to not do this, to not become one of his many toys just because his alpha pride was hurt, you still got on your knees. It was slow, and your eyes never left his as you sunk lower.

His hand left your head and went to undo his pants, and the zipper noise made your eyes move to the bulge that was in front of you. You couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to nuzzle your face against it, but you weren’t going to indulge in that feeling. You weren’t going to become putty, even if your omega was jumping happily, making you want to purr in delight and chirp because your scent mate was finally looking your way.

His tattooed hands, scarred even, pulled the zipper down and then his pants went downwards with a push. Your eyes were fixated on the wet stain that was over the dark blue hue of the fabric of his boxers. Your tongue tingled with the need of darting it out to lick on it, needing to taste it, to finally have his flavor in your mouth.

He could probably see it, how your eyes teared up, or clouded, pupils starting to dilate slowly, and how your own wetness was gushing out even more. You wanted to rip the tie off with your teeth, let your hands free to touch him, but– No. You cannot do this. It’s not fair. But it is what you have wanted all along, isn’t it? You closed your eyes to try to keep your brain to yourself, trying to control your body, at least regain a bit of it.

“Mr. Munson– I will not be one more for the collection.” You didn’t expect a low chuckle to escape him, but you could hear the angered growl behind it, expressing how disgusting that comment of yours was. Your eyes opened, looking up at him, only to see enraged eyes and bared teeth directed your way, which only made you tremble in fear, in anticipation, and in eagerness.

“You have no idea what the fuck you are talking about, My Rose.” His. Why is there so much anger coming from the Alpha that is now towering you? You cannot comprehend it. You cannot really understand it. His hands moved, you noticed, and then when your eyes went back to your front, your breath caught in your throat.

His cock sprung out and hit his pelvis as he pulled his boxers down enough to release it. It was thick. The tip was bright red, and it looked like it hurt. You couldn’t help yourself when your mouth started watering, seeing the drop of precum leaking out of the tip. You felt your saliva pooling on your tongue, your eyes fixated on it, and your body was suddenly set ablaze as your wrists tried pulling against the tie with no chance of success of untying yourself.

“Taste it.” Eddie’s voice was low, and commanding, and you didn’t really know if he was using his Alpha tone or not, but your body reacted instantly. Your tongue darted out, and the tip of it scooped up that drop of precum escaping him. You tasted it, mouth closed and if your mind was hazy before, it was now gone. Out of the window who you were before tasting him. Dead was the woman who could probably live without the need to know this taste. 

Your eyes were closed as you moaned at how delicious he was. Everything made sense, puzzles were put together, that little earring you thought you lost was found again, you discovered the secret ingredient to a recipe you never got right. And then–

Your eyes opened, revealing that tears had filled them, slick dripping furiously down your inner thighs, body trembling, lip wobbling as you stared up at him. The Alpha that made you simply lose yourself.

“Please… Please…” You begged. You didn’t even need to probably, but you still begged. His hand went towards your head again, his fingertips softly digging into your scalp. His jaw was clenched, strained.

“Open, Omega.” Electricity rushed through your body at the command, at his voice calling you omega. He called you it. And how can you ever defy him? Not now. Not ever. Not after this.

Your eyes looked at the red tip in front of you, and you saw how his dick twitched, bobbing a little, as if anticipating your touch, your warmth. His hand was still on the back of your head, but was not pushing you. Not that it needed to. 

Your mouth opened, tongue lolling out just slightly as you leaned forward. The tip touched your tongue first and then you kept going, finally taking him inside your mouth. A pleased growl vibrated through the room, and Eddie could only throw his head back in delight as your warmth finally started to engulf him.

Moaning is the only thing that could be heard from you the more you took him inside. Once you knew you couldn’t go further without choking, you moved your hands to help yourself only to whine at feeling them tied. You could only use your mouth on him, but it was no time to complain. There wasn’t any.

His grip tightened as you started bobbing your head, coating his dick in saliva, all over, slobbering it so much that it started running down the side of your mouth. You didn’t know it, but the Alpha before you was losing his mind, fighting against the animal that was inside of him.

Your moans helped with the vibrations around him, and you felt your entire body just burning inside out. You pulled away to be able to dip the tip of your tongue onto the slit of the head of his cock. He groaned loudly as he looked down at you and then you felt him guide you, which you obliged. 

His cock went inside your mouth again, and you started moving faster, but not by choice. If it were your call, you would take your time to taste him properly, try to trace every ridge of his veins so that it burns into your memory because, you don’t know if you will ever have this opportunity again. 

Even if your mind was knocked out of the park, you still remember how he has never called on you for months. How he slept with others and not you. How when the slight bit of his ego got damaged, he commanded you to be on your knees for him. So yes, you do not know if this will ever happen again.

So you’ll take this chance.

His hand guided you to move faster on him, your tongue slurping against the shaft, allowing him to slide in easily over and over into your mouth. Your pussy clenched with need around absolutely nothing. The scent of him filling you, sweaty, and with the distinctive little hints of cackling wood in the fire. 

Your belly turned at hearing his grunts, willing your eyes to open and look up at him, still moving your head, swallowing him in. He was looking down at you with his eyebrows meeting in the middle, groaning, growling, grunting under his breath. He looked in pain, or was it desperation? You couldn’t figure it out, but it can wait, right now you just want to keep tasting him.

You closed your eyes again, and his hips started moving against your movements, making him go a little deeper, beginning to touch the back of your throat. You started feeling the beginnings of your gags, but you focused on breathing through your nose. His grip tightened at the back of your head and then out of nowhere, he pushed you into his thrust. You yelped, or rather choked a yelp in surprise, feeling the tip of his cock pushing further into your throat. 

Your eyes started burning, raising your hands to grab onto his right knee, a silent plea to pull away before you start gagging. But at the same time you didn’t want him away, because your nose was now into his pubic hair, his scent stronger than ever and the omega inside of you was elated. 

“Taking me so good in that little mouth of yours. Such a good omega for me.” His voice was strained but you could only purr at his praise, but that action made you lose concentration and you gagged on him, coughing, and his grip loosened for you to pull away. You gasped for air as he got out of your mouth with a pop. You breathed heavily as you felt tears running down your cheeks, looking up at him with a lost look in your eyes.

“Did you say that to them as well?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. Even in your delight, it seems the rejection you suffered these past months was not easy to forget. Not even if you were in the one thing you have wanted to experience all this time. 

He was looking down at you in disbelief. He thought he was clear enough, but he was never good with words, and his actions could be better. He snarled down at you, his fangs showing in displeasure, but you didn’t back down and you hissed at him. Your omega wanted answers, defying the Alpha towering over you, and Eddie was taken aback by it. 

You felt possessive, needing to know if he had knotted your coworkers, if he had called them omegas, if he had called them sweet yet nasty names. You felt this was your Alpha, and you were angry, saddened, disappointed. He wasn’t yours, but you certainly felt he was, and this is your excuse for the way you’re reacting.

“Dense as fuck. Cute, but aren’t you a dumb little thing?” You were stunned at his insult but you winced when he dug his fingertips into your scalp, pulling you up on your feet once more, and then he continued talking “-- let me do to you things I didn’t do with the rest.”

His lips were on yours in a frenzy, making you gasp in surprise, not expecting him to kiss you at all. He didn’t seem like the man to be keen on kissing, because most of the time people thought of it as intimate, or caring. Maybe he was not one of those people and you were completely wrong about him, because the fact is– You don’t know him at all.

But how could you complain when he didn’t care that you just had him in your mouth? His lips were hungrily devouring yours, tasting himself, and you. He groaned into the kiss, his chest rumbling in delight, resembling a purr that only made you whimper in need, your hands reaching up to grab onto his shirt. Your wrists started to hurt as you kept tugging at them to be able to touch, to feel more, but it seemed that he didn’t intend to take the tie off.

His teeth bit onto your bottom lip, and you winced as he tugged on it before pulling away. Your eyes fixated on him as he licked his teeth with his tongue and you could see the red tint on them. You were bleeding and he was moaning at the taste of it, which only made the slick overflow and run down your legs more than before.

You whined in need as you felt a cramp punching you in your belly. The need of his knot resembled that of a heat, but you knew you were not due yet. The last one you had, you asked for a week off, and it was a month ago. You had to wait for another month for your next heat, so you didn’t understand why you were cramping.

Was it because of him? Was it just his mere scent and touch enough to induce you into a placebo of a heat? Into the feel of it? He was clearly your scent mate, there was no question now. There were no doubts. To make you feel like a bitch in heat at any time of the month, that is only something scent mates are able to do.

His eyes found yours as you licked your bottom lip, tasting the iron of your own blood. It wasn’t a deep or long cut, but it was still a small one. His chest rumbled as he took a sharp intake of breath in, smelling you, your arousal, your slick. His eyes closed for a second as you stared at his features, wanting to grab onto his face and kiss him again, but– you were not able to.

“I need to fucking taste you.” You gasped at his words and then you were guided towards his desk. You saw him just throw everything on the floor, including important paperwork. You knew it was important because it was the same thing you have been working on the last week. Once the desk was cleared and he turned to face you again, you opened your mouth to complain, only to be interrupted by his hand gripping your bicep, tightly and pushing you against the desk, your hip hitting the edge of it.

You whimpered in pain, knowing very well that it would leave a bruise on your skin. Your breath got caught in your throat when his hands pressed on your waist and lifted you off the ground in order to place you on the desk. His breaths were heavy, looking at you with intensity and purpose. A shiver ran down your spine when his digits dug into the skin of your waist, fingernails seemingly sharper as it scratched your flesh.

A yelp escaped your lips as his hands pushed on your shoulders, making you fall back, laying down on the desk and quickly, his hands moved to your knees in order to spread your legs for him. You whimpered as you could tell there was a string of your slick connecting both your inner thighs, the cold air making it obvious. Tears of embarrassment filled your eyes as you turned your head to the side, hiding your face behind your tied hands.

“Don’t you dare fucking hide your face from me.” You didn’t listen, not caring for the warning growl he directed your way. Suddenly your hands were engulfed by a singular larger one and pushed upwards, over your head, your knuckles slamming against the hardwood of the desk. Your breathing hitched as your head looked back at him, a piercing and threatening gaze as he bared his teeth for your submission. 

His eyes went towards your breasts, and without a second to waste, he dove downwards, taking your right nipple into his mouth. Your body jerked at the touch, and you bit your bottom lip to hold back a moan, only to whimper in pain as you remembered you had a cut. You realized he did it on purpose so you wouldn’t be able to bite onto anything to hold back your noises. 

His tongue swirled on your perked nipple, making your stomach jump at the attention, his scent spiking up with a hint of sweetness, delight. An appreciative growl, a low purr vibrated in his throat at your taste, at your reaction to him. His free hand went to rub your left nipple, his calloused fingertips rough to the touch, and then he nipped on your right one, making you gasp as your back arched, his hand holding your wrists tightening.

He pinched and bit and sucked on your nipples like a man starved, like this was the one thing he had been dreaming about for an eternity. Your eyes widened in the haze of your lust as you saw him rubbing his neck against your breasts, passing his scent gland all over. He was marking you, putting a claim on you that you didn’t think he deserved even if you wanted it and wanted to chirp in contentment.

“Sir–”

“Alpha.” He demanded and your eyes clashed with his again. He was right on your face, eyes dark as he asked you to call him the one thing you have been wanting to call him the moment you smelled him six months ago. Why now? Should you comply? Should you call him what he wants, needs?

“A–A–” You tried, but you knew that the moment you called him that way, you were going to enter in a mild state of a hivemind. Your rationality will fade slowly, only caring for the knot of the Alpha that was towering over you right now. His knot, his scent, his bite. You felt his hand leave your wrists but before you could lower them, his hand grabbed your chin roughly, making you pucker your lips as you felt the rumble in his chest.

“I’m your Alpha, Omega, and you will call me as such.” He spat through his teeth and you could only whine, which got cut short when a moan replaced it. His hips pressed against yours and you could feel his cock pressing against your clothed, wet and throbbing cunt. You felt yourself clench at nothing. Absolutely nothing. You were fucking desperate. 

“Y–You… are not mine… and I’m not yours.” Your voice was muffled by your puckered lips and he only hissed at you in complete displeasure, in disgust towards your words.

“We’ll change that tonight. Once and for all.” He removed his hand from your breast and held onto the elastic of your thong. You gasped in pain as he pulled, the lace digging into your skin the more he stretched it until you heard a rip. You hissed at the burn the pull left on your hip, and then his hand left your face, letting you move your jaw freely once more. 

Your mind raced at his words, not knowing what he meant, looking at the ceiling as if it would whisper the answer to you, whisper the meaning of this whole act towards you, but your body jerked out of its trance when you felt his tongue running from the middle of your chest and downwards, tasting your sweat. 

Your back arched as you held a moan in, trying not to bite onto your bottom lip when he pressed the tip of his tongue onto your belly. He was closer to where you had been wanting him the most for so long. You should stop this, but can you? Do you even have the willpower to do that? The answer was simple when you felt like puking at the idea of stopping him at all.

You felt his breath hit your pussy, your ripped thong still dangling on your right inner thigh. You shivered since the air made the wetness become cold, and you put your hands on your chest, not knowing where to place them. You heard him inhale deeply, a low rumble being heard from him.

“You smell so delicious… so fucking good My Rose.” You whined at the name, wanting to tell him to call you Omega, just like he demanded you to call him Alpha. You needed to hear it again, for your own sanity before you became someone that does not know the word ‘dignity’.

“I–” You couldn’t even start talking that his hot tongue licked your slick off your inner right thigh first, and he moaned in pleasure. Your eyes widened at the feeling of it, but mostly at the sound that came out of him, and it prompted your pussy to clench and more slick to come out on a string and down towards the table below you, at the edge of it.

He licked your left inner thigh now, slurped on it and then sucked on your skin, taking your cold juices into his mouth. Your breath was stuttering at the feeling as your pussy clenched and clenched, and you wanted to yell at him, to please touch you, lick you, eat you, just anything–

And your eyes widened when he flattened his tongue all over your slit to take a long lick from it. It felt divine, you were finally in bliss as your body felt like it was in flames. It felt as if someone threw a bucket of cold water on you, but it was a temporary relief. Unbeknownst to you, your boss was trembling at the taste of you as his dick twitched in absolute need.

The resemblance of a purr could be heard in the room, not coming from you, but from him. His hands dug into your inner thighs, fingertips marking you as he stared at your pussy, his breathing becoming slightly erratic the more he looked at it. And then, he didn’t hold back.

He went in, starved, desperate, his lips circling around your aching clit and sucking on it as he kept your legs spread for him. You gasped at the feeling and finally let a moan escape your lips, but Eddie was not even listening. You could smell his scent becoming stronger than before, and you couldn’t help but purr at the notice of high arousal, of pleasure, and it was all because of one lick on your pussy.

His tongue started lapping in between your folds, running all over and slurping all the slick that just kept coming out of you. He was moaning into you as you arched your back at every flick to your clit. He was making the most obscene sounds against you and you were loving it. You felt him pull away from you, a growl of pleasure escaping him and you wanted to look down but you couldn’t use your elbows to push yourself up to do so.

“You taste so good. So fucking good. I’m addicted, I knew I would be, but jesus fuck–” His tongue went back on you, a moan leaving you as he licked your clit and sucked on it to create that amazing friction you ached for. What does he mean? What does he mean by ‘he knew’? Did he want to do this to you before? 

“Why– Why didn’t you ever–” You gasped when you felt his tongue sliding inside of you, your back arching towards the ceiling and the small of your back aching at the hardness of the desk below you. Your body was lit on absolute fire, burning you from inside out, not caring if you died in the process of it. It was almost unbearable.

He moaned loudly into you, his dick leaking precum each second that passed, twitching in need at the feel he has around his tongue. He wants to feel the fluttering of your walls that are on his tongue, around his cock. His nose rubbed against your clit as he shook his head a bit at you. He pulled away to run a finger over your slit, covering it in your juices.

“Look at it… So pretty for me. So ready to receive her Alpha.” Your pussy clenched on nothing at his praise, a purr vibrating in your throat as your hips moved against him, making the Alpha smirk in victory. “You want that, My rose? Want me to be your Alpha?”

You didn’t know if he was messing with you or not. How many times did he use this as his dirty talk when fucking Steve? Carol? Heather? How many times did he say these things to them? How many times have they fallen for this trick? 

“Don’t– Don’t play with me.” A warning snarl was sent your way and your back arched as he roughly introduced his middle finger inside of you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“I’m going to make you beg for my knot. I’m going to hear you screaming for me. I’ll make sure of this.” His finger twirled upwards as he started thrusting in and out of you in short yet striking movements. Your soft spot was rubbed on, over and over again, and the moans were coming out of your mouth without any self control.

Your mind started becoming fuzzy the more pleasure you felt, the more slick that came out of you, and the more he moaned against you at each flick of his tongue on your clit. You didn’t want to comply with his orders, but you couldn’t fight your omegan instinct much longer. 

“Oh– fuck!” You yelled out as you felt his ring finger join his middle one, his tempo increasing as he sucked on your clit, and the gushing sounds of your juices could be heard around the room, mixing with your moans, with his groans, and the smell of pure arousal was intoxicating and just making the both of you feel as if you were high.

The coil in your belly started turning, wildly, and you knew you were going to have a strong one. The one person you consider ‘Your Alpha’ was touching you the way you’ve always wanted, and by him and him only. How could you not purr? Chirp? Moan loudly?

Your hands went down to grab onto his hair, who had the bun already a bit messy from his movements, and even with your wrists tied, you managed to cling to him. He moaned into your pussy and your walls started clenching all around his fingers and that’s when you felt him add his index finger, your eyes widening at the stretch, but you felt a certain relief, like a wave of cold air washing over you.

“You need to be ready for my knot. C’mon Omega, cum around your Alpha’s fingers.” You moaned when he called himself your Alpha. As if it were true. As if he truly was just yours and for a moment you believed him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, the loud squelching of juices even more depraved than before.

“Ed–Ed–” You stuttered out in between moans only to receive a growl in response and then you yelped as pain and pleasure mixed as he bit your clit, and even if it was gentle, it was still a sensible area. It was a warning, a threat to comply with his previous order.

“Say it.” And he twisted his fingers upwards as he made short thrusts yet quick and you felt your belly about to explode, your fingers digging into his hair as you pushed his head into you. Your knees were now bent, and you saw them tremble on the sides of his head. Your body started to shake as your mouth fell open and your eyes started going to the back of your head.

“A–Alpha!” Your orgasm crashed on you like a train, shaking you all over, short circuiting your brain and leaving you gasping for air as stars filled your vision. Eddie only cursed under his breath as his mouth latched onto your clit to help you ride your orgasm out, your pussy clenching around his fingers like a vice, and your slick was just running down, dripping from you.

He moaned at the taste of your orgasm, different to your normal slick. It was sweeter, tastier, and more intoxicating. Your grip loosened once you felt yourself stop trembling wildly, your walls unclenching from around his fingers as you slowly came down from your climax. Your breathing was heavy, feeling drained from how hard your orgasm was just now. You called him Alpha. You gave in. 

Your eyes were closed as you felt him leave your clit, and slowly pulled his fingers out from you, making an involuntary whine escape your throat at the loss of him. You felt defeated. You gave him what you didn’t want to give to someone who only sees you as one more notch in his belt. Another Omega he knotted. 

Your nose scrunched up as the air around you smelled way too intense, so much that you felt it prickle your nose. You couldn’t quite identify what it could be, but you felt like the appropriate word would be, desperation. Your eyes opened and you saw Eddie looking down at you, your slick all over his mouth, his fangs enlarged, his pupils blown out, and–

Your eyes widened as realization hit you. You were in the presence of an Alpha that had a triggered semi-rut. Your eyes went down to his still exposed pelvis, and his dick was larger, and just purely red and pulsing with need. Precum just oozed out from the tip and dripped down the shaft, and it was all for you.

And your mind was gone.

“A– Alpha…” You whimpered as your hivemind took over. Your irises were gone from how wide your pupils were, and your slick was overflowing the edge of the desk and falling onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. You raised your knees towards your chest, letting you show off your pussy to him, presenting yourself in a semi mating press. 

He licked his lips as he looked down at you, his chest moving up and down as he hissed through his teeth. Your Alpha, for some reason, you felt like he was fighting against something. It felt as if he was trying to fight off the rut. But you didn’t want him to. Maybe he knots you, and breeds you, hopefully. You want a pup with him, a pup from your scent mate, yes.

“Please, Alpha, my Alpha…” You begged and that was enough for Eddie to come out of his trance, his hands moving to the back of your knees for support as he moved his hips forward, and his cock ran over your slicked folds, making you moan desperately as you salivated in your mouth. “More, more, more–”

“Yes my Omega. My beautiful Omega… My Rose, your Alpha will give you more. Always.” His tip caught on your entrance and you gasped and you showed your Alpha your wrists, begging for him to take them off so your hands could touch him properly.

“I need to touch you, please, I’ll be good, I promise!” He immediately worked on the tie, yanking it off, probably ripping it apart in the process, and your hands shot up, trying to unbutton his shirt, whining with need to see, touch, feel his skin. His hands grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and he pulled, the buttons snapping and the shirt was ripped open, a breath of relief leaving his lips.

Your eyes scanned the tattooed chest, just a few tattoos here and there, scars that littered all over his stomach as well. You could hear your heartbeat into your ears, your body setting on fire at the sight of the layer of sweat covering his skin. Your hands, now with painful markings around their wrists but you could care less about that now, went forward to touch his stomach.

Fingernails scratched onto the flesh as another thrust of his hips made the tip enter you for just a second, a desperate whimper leaving your lips as you looked up at him with a pleading look. Why isn’t your Alpha taking you? Does he not want you? Are you not as pretty as the others? Your belly cramped, making you clench your eyes as pain shot towards your entire body.

“She didn’t knot you, didn’t she?” Your eyes shot open at the question and you looked at the man towering over you as his grip tightened underneath your knees. You wanted to tell him the truth, comply, but you were also feeling betrayed, used, and played with.

“D-Did you knot them?” Your voice was small and shaky, knowing you weren’t in the position to question the Alpha. You were in a vulnerable state, completely open for the kill. 

And with a loud growl, the biggest one you heard him give yet, he seethed himself inside of you in one powerful thrust.

You threw your head back as you shrieked at the sudden stretch, at the sudden pressure and the pain. It wasn’t great, but it was still painful, yet, your cramps stopped, just a little bit. They stopped stinging like knives, leaving a pain that can only be calmed by a knot. His knot. Tears ran down your cheeks as you gasped for air, your mouth open while you stared at the ceiling, and he bottomed inside of you, inch by inch.

He was big, the biggest you’ve ever had and it felt good, yet painful even with the foreplay. You pissed him off with your response, and you knew it because you could still hear him growling inside of his chest, groaning at the feel of you around him. 

His pelvis clashed against yours and you guided one of your hands towards your belly and you could swear you could feel him when you pressed. He was too deep inside of you and– and– you needed him to move. He needs to move. Your cramps are coming back as well as the cloudiness of your mind.

“P-Please Alpha, move–”

“I won’t move until you tell me.” His voice came out through his teeth as he looked down at you. More tears ran down your eyes as you tried to move your hips against him and he snarled at you in warning. “Tell me!”

“She didn’t! I couldn’t! The only– The only knot I want is–” And a sob ripped out of you as you looked at the man above you. It wasn’t fair, to be in this state and having no control, and knowing that after this, it would be forgotten, a fling of the moment because his ego got smashed.

“Is mine. The only knot you want is mine… And it’s the only one you’ll ever get from now on.” And his hips reeled back, only to slam themselves against you once again, making you choke up on a moan, your breath being knocked out of you instantly, the tip of his cock hitting the deepest part inside of you.

He felt divine, the burning of the first thrust slowly dissipating the more he moved his hips, going in and out of you as you adjusted to his size. The cramps were obscured by the waves of pleasure that your body started to feel, your limbs becoming limp for him to maneuver however he liked.

His fingertips were bruising your skin and his eyes were fixed where the two of you were connecting over and over again, and he grunted in pleasure at the sight, seeing himself disappear inside you, filling you up and feeling your cunt squeezing him, friction burning him from head to toes.

“Ah–” You gasped into your moan as he straightened up to pick up the pace, pulling his cock all the way out, leaving the tip inside, only to then go back in at a steady pace. Your hands flew to the edges on each side of the desk, trying to ground yourself as your mind reeled, your Omegan pheromones only making the Alpha in the room even more feral.

“So good, fuck, you feel so good baby. So, so, so fucking good.” He hissed out, his eyebrows meeting in the middle, a strained look on his face as his jaw clenched, still looking down at his cock going into your pussy, and he could see how your slick overflowed all around him.

You chirped at the praise as you bounced on the desk at each hit of his hips against yours, moans coming out of both your mouths and your rationality shut off once more as another cramp suddenly hit your belly. You weren’t being satisfied. Your needs were not being met and you were becoming restless.

“M-More…” You whimpered and he only tsked as he kept the same pace, not relenting to your begging.

“More what?” He knew exactly what you wanted, and he was playing with you. Tears of exasperation filled your eyes as you moved your hips in retaliation, making him hiss at you from the sudden action.

“More please? Please Alpha… I need– Faster, rougher– It hurts, it hurts–” And you were referring to that in so many ways. How your cramps hurt right now because your body needs and requires his knot, or how your whole soul hurt these past months knowing he never chose you for this before. He chose others, right in your face.

“Anything for my dumb little omega.” You didn’t know why he was insulting you, but you had no time to think. Your eyes widened as you gasped, followed by pleased mewls and loud moans as his hips started snapping against yours, the slapping on skin bouncing on every wall and bookcase, echoing thanks to the tall ceiling above you.

You now realize why he made everyone leave the entire floor.

His pace was rough, deep and fast, fucking into you desperately and your fingernails dug into the wood of the edge’s of the desk as you felt your insides being basically rearranged by him. Your cramps were still there but getting his cock inside of you helped somewhat, the pleasure overpowering it at times. You were loud, crying your moans out, your breaths, your huffs, and the yelling of his name.

His eyes were fixated now on your body, how it moved up and down thanks to his movements, your tear stained face, your open mouth that only let out filthy sounds, mumbling his name on the low in the haze of it all. You felt yourself start to flutter around his dick, the abuse against your g-spot making it an easy climax from the overstimulation. New tears prickled your eyes as your body jerked at every thrust, your belly coiling up, causing another cramp to happen. You whined loudly as your hips started meeting with his thrusts, desperately.

“Please, please, Eddie, my Alpha, more–” You were begging, pleading, imploring him to help you, because you were feeling good, but you weren’t at the same time because you needed more, your body still unsatisfied. You knew what it wanted, and it wasn’t just his knot. You wanted his bite.

“Tell me what you want.” You mewled as his thrusts turned deep, his hips coming to a slower pace and he circled them against you. You didn’t want to tell him, it is too embarrassing, knowing he is only doing this just for lust, and that he has done it with the rest, many times. Suddenly, a cry tore out from your mouth and you looked at Eddie with his teeth biting into your right calf. Your body jerked at the sudden bite, and your hands flew in reflex to try to grab him, but you weren’t strong enough to push yourself up and towards him.

“It hurts– Stop–” He growled as he pulled away from your skin, blood at the corner of his mouth, teeth glistening with a crimson hue. You looked at the bite, at his mark in your flesh and you chirped at the sight, wanting the same mark around your mating gland. It looked so pretty, so perfect, and it felt like you were owned. He hissed at you and his hips came to a halt, bottoming out inside of you. 

“Tell me what you want. I won’t continue until you tell me.” His jaw was clenched, the vein on his neck popping out from how much he was holding himself back from continuing your very destruction. You whined once more as you felt the burning of his bite on your calf, a drop of blood oozing out.

“I– I can’t– Not when you knotted… the others– embarrassing, Alpha, it’s embarrassing–” You were sobbing now, the pain from the past six months rushing back to you in a wave, clashing against the happiness you feel now, making you a bit dizzy from the mix of emotions. 

You heard him sigh and you dared to look at him through your tears, and he was looking down at you with a pained look. Why is he looking at you like that? Maybe it’s pity? Or maybe he feels sorry for how dumb you are? How naive? Or maybe–

“Oh my Omega… I have never knotted any of them.”

Your eyes fully opened at that, your heart thrumming in your chest as your body shook with excitement against your own will. What did he say? You saw his tongue darting out, his hand caressing your calf gently and pushing it towards his mouth so he can lick the wound clean. He side eyed you as he did this action, making your pussy clench around him, making the both of you hiss, remembering the position you are in.

“But– But I heard–”

“And I never complied.” He took his hands off your calf and the back of your left knee to lean forward. Your breathing was erratic, your hands immediately flying to hold onto his shoulders to pull him closer. His hands caged you in, one on each side of your head as he looked down at you. “-- I couldn’t comply.”

You blinked with confusion and doubt in your eyes. You wanted to believe him, you really wanted to, but– 

“Why?” Was the question flying out of your mouth and he leaned down towards you, his lips finding purchase on yours and you could only purr out of instinct, your heart exploding with happiness and joy inside your chest, trying to take the spotlight off of the thunder raging in your head.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and your legs around his waist, pushing him into you. You both groaned at the action, making him pull away from the soft peck, his pupils back to being completely dilated and you moaned as his cock twitched inside of you. A growl escaped him as he quickly wrapped his arms around your frame and lifted you off the desk, a gasp leaving your lips and your grip tightened all around him.

You knew his instincts kicked in again, his mind clouded once more, but the knowledge that he never knotted the others was starting to settle in your head, and it was slowly making you go back to that state of mind where the only thing that mattered was being bred and knotted by the Alpha that was holding you tightly in his arms.

You felt yourself being lowered and the carpet hit your back, your eyes finding the ceiling once again. His hands grabbed onto your knees and he pulled them away from himself, making you untangle your legs from his waist. He bared his teeth at you as you didn’t let go of his shoulders, and you quickly complied, submitting yourself to him.

“Good Omega. My Omega.” He suddenly pulled out from you as he kneeled back and you whined with a sob, lifting yourself with help of your elbows to look at him.

“NO! Alpha, please, I need your knot, please– Why are you doing this? I–” His hand pressed against your chest and pushed you back down, snarling at you to let him work. You gasped when he grabbed onto your knees, keeping them apart, but then roughly pushing them up towards your chest, and you felt your hips rising from the ground, bending your body slightly.

His knees were now on each side of your hips as he leaned forward, towering over your frame, his cock twitching and your eyes could see the base of his cock pulsating, ready for his knot to pop. You purred and salivated at it, wanting it, desiring it, needing it and then you realized–

You were put in a mating press.

His cock went in with one harsh thrust, and you swear you could feel him at the back of your throat as you threw your head back. Your hands grabbed onto the carpet below you for some grounding, but you only let yourself smile in pleasure, in bliss, as you felt him burn inside of you. 

His knuckles were white from how hard his grip was on your knees to keep you in that position. A position that helps with fecundation. He groaned loudly when you clenched around him, your climax coming back to you as if it had never left moments ago. Your belly ached, cramped, turned, but most of all, it burned. It was burning you with the need of release, the need to be filled, the need of him.

His thrusts started quick and powerful, knocking the breath out of you at each jerk, the carpet burning your back as you rubbed it back and forth. You couldn’t care less. Not the burn of the back or the pain of your wrists or the bite on your calf. He could hurt you, bend you, break you, and you would be fine with all of that. At least, you mean something to him that way. Something different than the rest.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. You’re fucking mine.” He growled, over and over again while he fucked into you like a madman, like an animal. He was sweating, your eyes following every drop, his hair clinging to the sides of his face, and he was the most beautiful person in this whole wide world. He is calling you his, maybe thanks to his small triggered rut, but you had no time to feel the pain of that realization yet.

“Alpha, it feels so good. Fill me up, please, pretty please–” You didn’t recognize your voice. Needy, dripping with lust and pleasure, and you don’t remember a single time you talked like this. Not even when you shared your heats with your ex. You never begged like this. This is what a scent mate does to someone. It turns you fucking stupid.

The slapping of skin was filthy, wet sounds following them because your slick was being produced at each thrust of his. It was probably a mess, and you know it because you turned your head to see the edge of the desk you laid on moments ago, and the side had your slick dripping down in a single streak towards the floor, and a small pool of it formed at the foot of the desk. 

His thighs were drenched in you, and you moaned loudly at the thought, your eyes returning to meet his. He moaned your name under his breath and you trembled at the sound of it. He called you by your name, not rose, not omega. Your name. It made your belly come closer and closer to the edge, pussy fluttering and clenching all around him as he continued his powerful thrusts.

Your vision became blurry as tears mixed with how cockdrunk you became, but you could see a thin silver necklace dangling from his neck, back and forth. Your nails dug into the carpet underneath you as your breath picked up a pace, feeling the coil in your stomach and belly turn wildly, your orgasm threatening you to explode at any second. 

“Alpha– Alpha– I’m–” And he grunted as your eyes widened with a surprised gasp when you felt the beginning of his knot start to hit your entrance. You could feel it popping in and then back out, his teeth bared and he finally looked at you, a yellow glint flashing in his eyes as he stared down at you.

“I’m going to knot you. I’m going to knot you and breed you, over and over and over again… And I’m going to mate you.” You didn’t know if you were making it up, you didn’t know anymore. It sounded way too good to be true– “Oh, you don’t believe me?” 

Your eyes widened, shock washing over you as you tried to talk, only for loud cries to escape your lips when his thrusts became hard, rough, and the knot started swelling more and more, making it a little painful when it started popping in and out of you. Your mind was a haze, the only need being his knot. His knot. His knot.

“Alph–” You couldn’t talk because of this position, which was a bit straining, and the air was just simply knocked out of you at each thrust. You couldn’t breathe properly, feeling as if you were going to pass out. His teeth were now bared, fangs just slightly enlarged, snarling as he huffed in pleasure.

“You’re mine. All mine. Forever mine, my omega.” Your pussy clenched at the words, your mind no longer your own, and you cried out as your climax finally hit you, tightening all around his cock and now, his knot swelling instantly, impossible to pull out without hurting you, so he braced himself on his knees to push deep into you, and then he moaned loudly as his breath trembled when he locked himself inside of you, his cum filling your belly.

Your pussy milked him as your cramps finally stopped, leaving you in the stars. Your trembling was intense as you felt him spill inside of you and the more you clenched, the more cum he let out. It was never ending, the both of you moaning, groaning, and purring. He moved his hips once, a whimper leaving your lips and a growl rumbling in his chest.

He let go of your knees, his breathing heavy, his nostrils flaring as he leaned forward, his upper body bending as one hand cradles the back of your head, while the other holds your left bicep. His eyes clashed with yours, breaths intertwining between the two of you, chests heaving as the scents inside the room made your head spin.

He leaned down and you felt him lick the scent gland on your neck, his cock twitching inside of you and you swore you could feel more cum leaking out from him. You groaned, your eyes closing as he tasted you. His chest rumbled as he pressed his own scent gland against yours, true to his word. He cleansed the other alpha’s smell from you, replacing it with his own. He then proceeded to scent your mating gland, which only broke you.

He marked you in ways he probably doesn’t understand. After this, the two of you will go back to boss and secretary. You will have to leave, leaving this, leaving him behind you. Turn him into your past. You will probably have to go to an omegan therapist after this, and you would also leave Robin–

And the world stopped.

Everything. The universe. The stars. Your own breath. Your heart. Time itself. What…?

And then, fire. Fire spreading all over you coming from your mating gland. Your mating gland that was suddenly bitten into by the alpha that had his knot deep inside of you. You were bitten. He bit you. He claimed you. You were now his. 

A scream ripped out from your chest as another orgasm came crashing out of nowhere, clenching around him like a vice, milking him even more. He moaned into your skin, the hand on the back of your head holding you tightly as you shook underneath him. You didn’t understand anything. He was telling the truth. Eddie… Your– Your Alpha. He was your alpha now. For real.

He pulled away from you with a gasp for air, your blood all over his lips and teeth. You could feel his pleasure. His joy. His desire. His fear. His nervousness. His ecstasy. His delightfulness. Everything. He pressed a soft kiss on your lips, your shock still apparent, even if the kiss sent a million jolts of electricity through your body.

He pulled away with a chuckle and he proceeded to lean down again, pushing your head into his own mating gland this time. Your eyes were lost as you wondered what he wanted, his smell slowly bringing you down to earth once more, time moving again, the stars and the universe continuing their course.

“Bite me. Bite me back Omega.” Surprise was displayed on your features as soon as he said those words. It wasn’t common for omegas to bite their alphas back to seal the bond, the mating process, but people say it’s for the bond to be permanent, for eternity, for the mates to find eachother in this time and the next.

Your hands went towards his back, your nails dragging across his shirt, he never took it off. You could feel how damp it was thanks to the sweat, clinging to his body, and now– your eyes filled with tears, knowing now that he also knew you were his scent mate. This was never one sided. You have a lot of questions to ask him, but now… right now–

Your small fangs pierced through his mating gland.

He gave a small whimper as you felt iron filling your mouth. His blood. His scent. He was now all over you, and inside of you, in every sense and way possible. You moaned at his taste when you felt him twitch inside of you once more, his knot pulsing. You couldn’t believe it. As you retreated your mouth from him and laid your head back down on the carpet, you finally smiled.

He looked down at you, and you knew he was hoping you weren’t mad at him. He took your liberty and freedom in a single night thanks to his jealousy. To his possessiveness. To his fear of losing you. Your right hand moved towards his face, caressing his cheek gently, and he gave you a reassuring smile, closing his eyes, leaning towards your touch.

This is the first time you saw him like this. Vulnerable. A true smile of happiness on his lips, and it was all because of you. How could you be mad at him when he gave you what you’ve been wanting for the past six months you’ve known him? Something you didn’t think was possible, or that it was just in your head, or it was simply one sided? No… You could never be mad at him for it.

“My Alpha…” You whispered, your breaths starting to slow down as exhaustion started to wash over you, knowing your body will ache the following day, but you couldn’t care less. His eyes opened again, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips, a huff escaping his nose in pure delight. He pulled away a second later, his right hand caressing the side of your face, wiping your tears away. Tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your eyes.

“My Omega… Mine only… so dumb for not realizing what I was trying to say…” Your eyes closed as a satisfied sigh escaped your lips, relief washing over you. His hand kept caressing your face, his soft lips pressing on your forehead, your cheek, tender and caring. Keeping you safe in his arms, his embrace being your safest nest, at least for tonight.

“Eddie…” You mumbled as your consciousness started to slip away as slumber started to overtake you. You heard your name being called out by him after a soft kiss was pressed against your forehead. Your heart now filled with joy, your mating gland ablaze, but you could not feel the pain. 

“Rest darling… I’ll keep you safe.” 

And then, darkness.

His back was against the headboard of the bed hidden inside his office. He just had to press a button and a bookcase would fall down to reveal itself as a king sized mattress. He held his cellphone on his left hand, calling on Chrissy while his right arm was around your sleeping frame, completely knocked out as you laid on your side, your head on his chest and right hand over his heart. 

Once he knew his knot had deflated, he got you both in a more comfortable position. He will have to explain himself to you but now, he had to–

“Tell me you didn’t boss.” Chrissy’s voice blasted in his ear, making him hiss and pull the phone away from him. His fingers were softly brushing your back, keeping you asleep.

“It is done.” His voice was low as he looked down at you, your breaths coming out from your mouth evenly and calm. A soft smile appeared on his lips, feeling the wound of your bite pulsing and burning on his shoulder, but it only made him happier. He heard Chrissy letting out an exasperated sigh on the other side of the phone, making his smile fall and look out the window.

“We haven’t solved the issue with the Hagans. You had to wait until that was finished! They will now know about your mate and target her!” His jaw clenched as his arm tightened around your frame, making you whimper slightly at the tightness but not in pain, just a sound in your sleep. 

“I won’t let them touch her, you know that.” Chrissy sighed once more. He knew his right hand was right, but he couldn’t– “Chris, I couldn’t let her slip away from me. She is my scent mate. It was going to happen sooner or later, and the other omegas were not a useful distraction any longer.”

“I know Eddie…” There was a moment of silence before Chrissy continued talking, “but it doesn’t take away the fact that she will be targeted from now on. Something you were trying to avoid all this while by keeping your distance… So, what now?”

And Eddie pondered. He looked out the window as his mind worked, the need to protect you now ten times bigger, may he say twenty thanks to the bond. You two are mated for life now. In this life and the next, and the next, and he has to protect you with everything that he is, even if his own life is at risk.

“Then I guess I have to kill Tommy once and for all and take the clan for myself.” Chrissy remained silent on the other side. It wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. He was going to do it peacefully, but Tommy was not a bright or reasonable leader. He was never happy about Eddie’s negotiations, always threatening him and his group, and Eddie knows he will threaten your life in order to get what he wants.

So he prefers to have Tommy’s head in his hands than wait for him to do something stupid.

“Alright… It’s settled.” He hears a rustling of papers, knowing she is taking down notes. He feels you stir slightly, but you just fixed your head on his chest, letting out a soft sigh as you kept sleeping. “And then?”

Eddie frowned in thought and looked down at your frame. A smirk spread on his face as he looked all over your body, his eyes resting over your waist, seeing your belly from the side.

“Get me a house. Somewhere residential, private, secure.” His voice was imperative, and he knew Chrissy was going to comply with no questions asked.

“Alright. How many rooms?” And his lips pressed on the top of your head as a smile spread on them, almost wickedly so.

“Let’s start… with four.”

End

a/n: time to get bred ig, hope u enjoyed, don't forget to leave a reblog, a comment on the reblog doesn't hurt either pretty pls

[theemporium]

click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends! .

Max Verstappen wasn’t really good when it came to words. He never had been. 

When Max was told to express his emotions—any of them—it was like a part of his brain switched off and everything became more difficult. It was hard for his brain to wrap around his thoughts, process them and vocalise them. It was difficult for him to say the words that flowed so easily for other people.

When his dad was yelling at him, the fear locked him down before he could even utter a word. When he was happy, the adrenaline made it easy to act instead of thinking. When he was scared or excited or angry, it never mattered. Max Verstappen just couldn’t seem to voice any of the feelings rushing through him. 

And that was the case of love—the most overwhelming and suffocating emotion of them all—Max could barely keep his head on right. 

As cheesy and cliche as it sounded, Max didn’t believe in love at first sight until he met you. He didn’t realise it was love, not really, but he knew that the tightening feeling in his chest and surprisingly pleasant twist in his stomach only urged him to close the distance between you and introduce himself. And he was right. It was love. It was so much more than love, even if it took him a few months to realise it. 

There was never a doubt in your mind that Max loved you, but he just didn’t show it the same as others did. 

You first experienced Max’s love around two months into the relationship. 

Timing for a relationship—romantic or not—was never an easy thing in the world of Formula One. Ironically enough, Max thought the universe was on his side when he met you during the summer break. It was four weeks of bliss. Four weeks of pushing every racing thought away from his brain—something that once seemed impossible—and just focusing on you. 

Even as the season returned, the few weekends away didn’t seem like such a big deal when the two of you were giddy and happy and buzzing to explore this new, bubbling connection. 

But then a triple header came around and Max, for the first time in his life, was annoyed by his job. 

He didn’t like being away from you. He didn’t like the fact he couldn’t just drag you along with him, from country to country like the greedy man he wanted to be. He didn’t like that he was so wrapped up with training and racing and resting that the communication between you two was already getting difficult and you hadn’t even left the honeymoon phase.

It was odd to be so happy for the triple header to end, to cross that line on Sunday and know he had at least two weeks before he had to leave you again. It felt odd that he had found something that he adored as much as racing outside of his job. 

Except, despite feeling every single word he thought, he never said it to you.

Instead, he had wandered into your apartment after stopping by his own and simply grinned at you when you opened the door, a brown paper bag in hand as he said, “I’ve got something for you.”

It was a magnet. In fact, it was three magnets, each from the country he visited. 

And maybe to others, it wasn’t much. And maybe to others, it was a little tacky. But to you, it was everything and more. It told you that even when he was away, even when he was working, even when he had a million things on his mind, Max still thought of you. 

It was a reoccurring tradition that continued throughout your relationship. 

At the most random times on the most random days, Max would hand you a brown paper bag that held some stupidly adorable and sentimental gift that made your heart explode. He bought you other gifts, big and extravagant and expensive ones that made your head spin a little, but the ones that came in a brown paper bag were your favourite.

They were thoughtful and heartwarming and they decorated your apartment like little reminders of the man you loved. 

So, three years into your relationship with Max, it was no surprise when you found him in the kitchen one morning, two plates of french toast and a brown paper bag lying by the counter. 

“Hm, forgot to give me it last night?” You teased as you slid into a stool, grinning at him as he passed you a mug—coffee made just how you liked it—before he slid into the stool next to you.

“I was distracted,” Max retorted with a matching grin on his face as he leaned down to peck your lips. “Can’t blame me.”

“I can forgive you this once, I guess,” you said, sighing a little dramatically as you did just because hearing Max laugh was one of your favourite sounds. “Especially if it is one of those cute figurines you sent me pictures of.” 

“I think you’ll like it all the same,” Max said, and maybe if you were a little more awake you would have noticed the hint of nervousness in his voice as he reached over for the bag and slid it towards you. 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it,” you assured the boy, because you always did. Because whatever it was, it meant he was thinking of you—of your reaction—when he bought it and that was more than enough. 

You didn’t comment on his sudden silence as you took the bag, reaching inside to feel a small box between your fingers. You looked up at him with an unsuspecting smile, not even fully realising what sat in your palm when you opened the box until your eyes flickered down and you froze. 

Because it wasn’t the figurine. It wasn’t another pair of earrings he saw at a local market. It wasn’t a funny crystal that he swore was meant to bring good fortune. It wasn’t a magnet. 

No, because the gift inside of the brown paper bag—the gift that was currently sitting in the palm of your hand—was a ring box. 

A ring box with the most perfect fucking ring staring back at you. 

“Max?” His name barely a whisper because that was all you could manage, that was all you were able to get out as you turned to look at him. Your vision was starting to blur with tears but so were his. And fuck, his blurry, smiling face was the prettiest sight you had ever fucking seen. 

“Marry me?” He asked, because he was Max. He was your Max. He didn’t do big speeches or love confessions. He didn’t do over the top celebrations or huge parties when it came to the things that mattered, the intimate moments that didn’t require an audience. 

He didn’t need anything more than a brown paper bag, a question and you. 

“I am gonna marry the shit out of you,” you managed to mutter out before you launched yourself at him, practically climbing onto his lap as he laughed and hugged you close and didn’t let go until your coffee was cold and the tears were gone and there was a pretty fucking ring on your finger. 

Max Verstappen wasn’t good with words, but he had other ways of showing he loved you and there was no doubt in your head that he did.

.

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 08

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 11.8 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note just wanted to shout out a big thank you to everyone who reads and support my story !! your support seriously means the world. thanks for sticking around, and i hope this chapter was worth the wait. dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts !! ♡ (fanart in the header)

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Sunlight sliced through the thin gap in the curtains, painting stripes across your heavy eyelids. It felt warm, comforting—almost like an unspoken apology for the reality it foreshadowed. The plush hotel bed clung to your body, and for a blissful moment, you'd almost forgotten where you were.

Almost.

Until the steady rhythm of breathing beside you brought you back to reality. Satoru's arm was draped casually over your waist, his body moulded tightly against yours.

You wanted to stayed forever like that, suspended in the lazy lull of the morning, the world outside momentarily forgotten. But then, your gaze drifted across the room, landing on the digital clock.

The bright red numbers screamed it was far later in the morning than it had any right to be.

Fuck.

Panic slithered through your veins.

Today was the day of the lecture, the reason you were here in this sun-drenched coastal town, in this hotel, in Satoru's arms. And you were oversleeping.

You propped yourself up, elbow digging into the soft sheets, and turned to the white-haired man beside you. "Satoru." You nudged him, gently at first, then with increasing urgency. "Wake up."

No response.

"Satoru," you repeated, a little louder this time.

Still, nothing. Not even a twitch.

His features remained serene, his breathing steady, as if the world beyond his dreams didn't exist. His white lashes rested softly on his cheeks, his mouth slightly parted. He looked so peaceful. It almost hurt to wake him. But only almost.

With the clock ticking menacingly, reminding you of every second slipping away, gentleness was no longer an option. You drew your leg back and delivered a swift kick to his side. "Satoru!"

With a startled yelp, Satoru rolled off the bed and landed with a thud on the plush carpet below. He was immediately jolted awake by the cold floor against his skin.

"What the—," he sputtered, propping himself up on the edge of the bed, a look of utter confusion crossing his face. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction.

"We overslept!" You throw off the covers and scramble out of bed. "The lecture, Satoru! We're late!"

For a moment, he just stared at you, blinking away the remnants of sleep. Then, realization dawned on him, his eyes widening. "Shit!"

"Yeah, shit." You were already rummaging through your belongings for something suitable to wear. The lecture was in less than thirty minutes, and you had yet to prepare yourselves, let alone rehearse the final points of your presentation.

He sighed. "Maybe we should just skip it."

"Come on, Satoru, we don't have time for this." You tossed a pair of trousers at him, which landed on his head. He yanked them off, looking slightly bemused.

"So you're deciding what I wear now?"

"It matches my outfit." 

As the two of you scrambled to get ready, the room turned into chaos. Clothes were hastily thrown on, shoes mismatched in the rush, all while you tried to rehearse the presentation.

"Satoru, have you seen my laptop?"

"Check under my bag." His voice muffled from the bathroom where he was attempting a speed-shave. "And remember, the key point on slide seventeen is the statistical improvement in patient recovery rates."

Finding your laptop and opening the presentation to quickly recall everything you tossed another question back at him. "What about the potential side effects? How are we addressing those?"

"Slide twenty-two, we're emphasizing ongoing research and monitoring," Satoru called back, emerging from the bathroom with a small cut on his jaw, but otherwise looking more like the composed professor he was supposed to be today.

The flurry of preparations continued unabated as you both sifted through documents, gathered laptops and chargers, and double-checked that the USB with your presentation was safely in your bag.

You turned to see Satoru fumbling with his tie, his hands shaking slightly.

"Let me." You closed the gap between you, the scent of his aftershave sharp and familiar. You unwound the tangled mess he'd made and started afresh, draping the silk fabric neatly around his neck before proceeding to tie it. "How are you holding up today?"

His hands reached up to smooth down your hair. "I'm managing. But you're here. That's all I need."

You looked up briefly to meet his gaze, a smile forming on his lips. "Regarding the Q&A, we shouldn't overlook the upcoming clinical trials," you reminded him while adjusting the knot of his tie to perfection.

Satoru nodded. "Right. And if anyone asks about the implant's durability, you'll take that question. You know the technical specs better than I do."

Once the tie was neatly in place, your hands lingered on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. His gaze was heavy on you, and when you finally met it, his eyes held a tenderness that made your breath catch. 

He looked at you as if you were the only person in the world, as if the very sight of you filled him with an awe he could hardly believe.

His thumb traced the curve of your cheek, a touch so light it was almost a ghost against your skin. Time seemed to pause as you both lost yourselves in each other's eyes.

But just as quickly as the moment had enveloped you, reality came crashing back. With a jolt, you remembered that you were indeed late for the lecture.

"Let's quickly run through the opening of the presentation once more." You broke the stillness and resumed the morning's hurried pace. "I'll begin with an introduction to the progression of neuroimplant technology, followed by your detailed discussion of our research findings."

Satoru shook his head, as if snapping back to reality. "Sounds like a plan." He picked up the room key and led you to the door. "I'll conclude with our study's implications for future research and potential applications."

Just as you were about to hurry out, Satoru's voice halted you. "Wait."

You turned to find him stepping closer. In a seamless motion, he bridged the distance between you, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck. He leaned down, and his lips met yours. The kiss was sudden but tender, a moment of calm amidst the morning's frantic rush.

He pulled away reluctantly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "For luck."

Satoru grabbed his suit jacket in a swift motion before you left the hotel room.

"Sure you'll need it? It's going to be a scorcher today."

He smirked. "I have a feeling I might."

─── ·✧· ───

As you entered the auditorium, the sheer scale of the event stole your breath. 

The room was packed beyond capacity. Every seat taken, attendees sitting on the floor and along the stairs, every face—hundreds of them—turned toward the stage in anticipation.

You squeezed through the crowd, Satoru's hand a steadying presence at your back. You made your way to the front of the room, the eyes of the audience following your every move. The podium felt like a different world, a spotlight that left no room for mistakes.

As you set up your presentation, your gaze inadvertently swept across the faces in the crowd, searching, scanning until it landed on him—Sukuna.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment, a smirk playing on his lips. Your stomach twisted.

Satoru, sensing your tension, leaned closer. "Deep breaths. Eyes on me," he whispered. "Forget him. You know this material better than anyone. You're brilliant, and today, everyone else will see that too."

You nodded, drawing a deep breath.

As Satoru began to speak, his voice carried across the room, clear and confident. The initial nerves faded away, replaced by the passion for your subject that always fueled you as you took the stage. The presentation flowed from introduction to in-depth analysis, from new research to potential implications for the future.

The audience was captivated, their attention unwavering as they followed along. The content you had both worked so hard on was being received with the enthusiasm and seriousness it deserved.

By the time the final slide flickered onto the screen, the room erupted into applause. You looked over at Satoru, finding him already looking at you. He smiled.

As the applause died down, the room transitioned into the Q&A session. Hands shot up one after another, questions being fired at you and Satoru with eagerness and curiosity. The exchange was lively, with both of you addressing each question with detail and clarity.

The scheduled time for the session quickly passed, yet the audience's thirst for knowledge seemed unquenchable, with more hands remaining raised, more questions waiting to be asked.

Suddenly, Sukuna raised his arm, his mere presence commanding attention. The room instantly fell silent, all eyes turned to him. He cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on you.

"I must admit, your presentation is both ambitious and promising," he began, his voice carrying across the packed auditorium. "However, I can't help but wonder about the long-term risks. How do you propose to overcome the inevitable immune response that will reject the implant? Or is the plan just to pump patients full of immunosuppressants until their bodies give out?"

Oh, he was such a dick.

"And another thing," Sukuna continued, not giving you a chance to respond to his first jab, "how do you plan to maintain the efficacy of the neural interface when the brain's neuroplasticity will likely render it obsolete in a few years? Or hadn't you thought that far ahead?"

Oh, he challenged you. You could clearly see it.

Satoru opened his mouth to respond, but you were quicker. Without hesitation, you stepped forward and cut Satoru off.

"Thank you for your interesting questions," you began, the edge in your voice mirroring his, "it seems you don't understand the scope of our research. As for the immune response, we don't rely on brute force immunosuppression. Instead, we're taking a new approach using biocompatible materials designed to integrate seamlessly with human tissue."

"And as for neuroplasticity," you continued, locking eyes with Sukuna, "our interface is designed to adapt as the brain changes, using algorithms that learn and evolve. We're not talking about a static piece of hardware, but a dynamic system. But perhaps the concept of adaptive technology is new to you?"

It was disrespectful, to say the least.

Bold. Stupid. Risky. All of the above and worse. No student should ever speak in such a dismissive tone to an experienced professor, let alone the head of the university who had specifically invited you to give this lecture, but God, you had had enough of his arrogance.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then, Sukuna started to laugh—a shrill sound that filled the space. "Thank you," he said, his laughter fading into a smirk. "That was a truly refreshing lecture."

The audience erupted into applause once more.

Satoru strolled over to you, giving you a reassuring smile. In the moments following the lecture, as the last of the attendees began filing out of the auditorium, Satoru turned to you. "You were incredible out there," Satoru began, his voice carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter. "I'm proud of you."

"I couldn't have done it without you."

Satoru stepped closer and reached out, his hands finding your waist, drawing you into him. You tilted your head back, your gaze on his lips as the distance between you dwindling to mere inches. Just as his lips were about to meet yours, a familiar voice interrupted the moment.

"Quite the performance," Sukuna's voice intruded. His eyes, locked on yours, held a predator's gleam. "You have a sharp tongue, woman. I like that. Keeps things... interesting."

Satoru's hand tightened briefly around you before he let go. Satoru then casually shrugged off his suit jacket, wrapping it neatly over his right hand.

"Thanks for having us," you replied as Sukuna made his way over to you.

"I'm sure my colleagues would like you both to—," Sukuna begann but was quickly shut silent when Satoru's jacket-wrapped fist met his face. The sound of the impact echoed through the empty auditorium.

Oh, great. Another lawsuit.

"So much for wanting to 'talk' about it," you said dryly.

Satoru turned to you, a beam of satisfaction in his eyes. "I wrapped my hand in my jacket so I wouldn't get hurt. Didn't want you to have to patch me up again," he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

That's nothing to be proud of. Still, you appreciated his thoughtfulness.

Turning back to Sukuna, who was rubbing his jaw, Satoru added, "You should be thankful that I didn't do it in front of your students. Now we're even."

Sukuna's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "You haven't lost your old charm, Toru," he said, rising to his full height. "Still a man for dramatic gestures."

With a step forward, Sukuna enveloped Satoru in a tight hug. "Just like old times, eh?" he said, clapping Satoru on the back.

What was going on here. Was this normal?

Satoru chuckled. "Exactly like old times. But let's not make a habit out of it."

You stood there. Stunned. Speechless.

You had questions, a million of them.

Sukuna took a step back. "Well, I shouldn't keep you. I heard you have a long drive ahead," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. "I do hope you'll consider coming back to give another lecture in the future."

"We'll think about it. And thanks for the hospitality, Sukuna," Satoru said.

"Always a pleasure to have you here. Safe travels back." With that, Sukuna turned and left the podium, leaving you and Satoru alone in the now-empty auditorium.

"Ready to head back?" Satoru then asked, extending his hand towards you.

You took his hand, your fingers intertwined with his. "You have really strange friends, Satoru."

─── ·✧· ───

"Sent another one off yesterday," Maki sighed, the ice clinking in her empty cup. "Feels like I've exhausted every hospital within a thousand-mile radius."

"It'll pay off. You're brilliant, remember? They'd be fools to pass you up."

The city pulsed with life under the lazy afternoon sun. 

You and Maki navigated the crowded sidewalks, the scent of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries swirling in the warm air. Laughter bubbled up from overflowing cafes, their cheerful chatter a counterpoint to the impatient honks of taxis. 

The cool condensation on your iced coffee cup was a sweet relief against the prickle of sweat forming on your skin. But your conversation carried a weightier theme: Maki's internship applications.

Maki huffed out a mock-dramatic breath. "Well, if all else fails, there's always plan B: becoming a professional medical drama consultant."

"Medical drama consultant? Is that... a thing?"

"Think about it," Maki explained. "I'd be the go-to person for TV shows and movies to ensure their medical scenes are accurate. I'll be the one yelling at the screen, 'That's not how you do CPR!' or 'Nobody wears high heels in the ER!'"

"Yeah, why do they always wear heels on these shows? It makes no sense—" you began, then your phone buzzed, cutting you off. You couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face as you read the message.

[5:12 PM] Satoru: Got any plans later? I might have something in mind for us.

Maki's eyebrows shot up. "Who's that? Making you smile like an idiot in the middle of the street?"

"Nothing, just—"

But Maki was faster. With a flash of her hand, she snatched your phone. "Let me see."

"No, wait—" you protested, but it was too late.

Maki's jaw dropped as she glimpsed the name at the top of the chat history. "Satoru Gojo?" she breathed, her surprise quickly morphing into something bordering on glee. "The Satoru Gojo?"

Maki's eyes flicked back to the screen, scanning messages with lightning speed. An audible gasp escaped her lips. "And what's this?" she read aloud, her voice barely a whisper, "'I'd rather have you wear nothing'?" Her eyes glittered with mischief. "Oh my god!"

"Maki, it's nothing really." You tried to reach for the phone, but she danced out of reach, her eyes still glued to the screen.

"You and Gojo, huh?" Maki finally looked up from the phone. "Why didn't you tell me? How long has this been going on?"

You sighed, knowing there was no point in denying it any longer. "A while now. But it's complicated."

"Men are always complicated," she said, her fingers already tapping out a reply.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Texting your man back," she said with a wicked grin.

Before you could stop her, she snapped a photo of the lingerie store you were standing in front of. She hit send, adding a caption that made your heart leap to your throat.

[5:15 PM] You: Thinking of you.

The deed done, Maki handed back your phone with a grin. "There, now he knows what he's missing out on."

Your phone buzzed almost immediately, Satoru's response popping up. Both of you leaned in.

[5:15 PM] Satoru: Don't tease me, you might regret it later. 

[5:15 PM] Satoru: You should come over after your shopping trip and show me.

Maki raised her eyebrows. "Oh, he's good."

"He's an idiot." You locked your phone, shoving it deep into your pocket.

"So, spill it," Maki began, her eyes wide. "How serious is it?"

You sighed. "It's somewhat serious."

Maki's eyes narrowed. "You know what they say about him, right? He's a brilliant surgeon, and an even better heartbreaker. Are you sure he's not just playing his usual game?"

"I just know." The words ringing with a conviction that surprised even yourself. "He might be a bit of a mess, but there's something about him. When I'm with him—" You trailed off, searching for the right words. "He gets me."

Maki's gaze softened, the sharp concern replaced by a familiar, almost sisterly look. "I'm not judging," she said. "Gojo's—well, he's intense," she added with a wry grin that almost made you laugh. "But don't forget who you are in all of this."

Maki squeezed your hand. "You've got this amazing research project, a brilliant career ahead of you—don't let any man, not even Satoru Gojo, mess that up."

Yeah, it was far too late for caution, wasn't it?

Before you could answer, Maki's attention was drawn to a shop across the street. "Ooh, let's check this place out!" She darted off before you could protest, giving you time to answer Satoru.

[5:25 PM] You: 8 pm?

[5:26 PM] Satoru: I'm impatiently waiting for you.

─── ·✧· ───

When you arrived at Satoru's apartment, the door was slightly ajar. Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, calling out his name. You immediately noticed the flavors of thyme and ginger in the air and the soft lo-fi music coming from the kitchen.

Rounding the corner, you found Satoru in a scene you never thought you'd witness. He stood over the stove, tossing vegetables in a pan with practiced ease, humming along to the music playing softly in the background. The sight was so unexpected it stopped you in your tracks.

"You hungry?" he called out.

You moved over to him, and leaned against the kitchen island. "You're—cooking?"

Satoru glanced up at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why does that surprise you so much?"

"I didn't think you knew how to cook."

Satoru and cooking were two concepts you'd never thought to pair together.

"Why not? I'm living alone, what did you think?"

"I don't know, that you live off delivery service."

"Ah, the misconception strikes again." As if to prove his point, he gave the pan in front of him an expert toss, sending its contents flipping neatly in the air before landing back with a satisfying sizzle.

"What are you making?"

"Ah, that would be telling. You'll just have to wait and see," he teased, the button-down shirt straining slightly across his broad shoulders as he reached for a spice jar.  A kitchen towel was slung over one shoulder, like a damn real chef.

The light from the setting sun filtered through the window, casting a warm hue that highlighted the sharp angles of his jawline, the concentration in his eyes as he tasted a sauce, and the small smile that played on his lips when he was satisfied with the flavors.

Your gaze drifted to his forearms, where the veins were subtly pronounced against his pale skin. Your mind wandered to how his skin felt against yours—smooth, yet with a hint of roughness. You imagined the touch of his long, perfect fingers, their gentle caress—

"So, how did your shopping trip go? Found something?" Satoru's voice pulled you from your daydreams, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement as he caught the distant look on your face.

"I wasn't the one who sent that message, just so you know."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming. "Figured. You're not usually so straightforward with your flirting. So, who knows now?"

"Maki knows."

"Maki Zenin?"

"Yes."

"I see," he hummed, stirring the pot thoughtfully. 

"She won't tell anyone," you added.

"You know, I wouldn't mind if people found out about us," he commented casually, sending a playful glance your way.

You scoffed, pushing yourself away from the counter. "You're seriously too laid-back for your own good, Satoru."

You wandered into the living room, the warm, spicy scent of his cooking clinging to you.

"Still haven't answered my question, love," his voice came from the kitchen.

"And which question would that be?"

"Did you find anything interesting on your shopping trip?"

"Ah, that would be telling. You'll just have to wait and see," you mirrored his words back to him, casting a glance over your shoulder to catch his gaze.

Your attention then shifted to a shelf beside the TV in the living room. Medical textbooks and dusty journals formed a stoic wall, interrupted only by a somewhat abandoned plant gasping for water. But your attention settled on the gleaming basketball trophies nestled between them.

Polished silver and gold surfaces reflected the warm light, each etched with names and dates, whispering stories of past matches. You couldn't resist. Your fingertips glided over their cool smoothness, tracing the inscriptions, a faint metallic tang lingering on your skin.

Meanwhile, Satoru's voice announced from the kitchen, "This will need a bit to simmer properly," followed by the sound of a lid sealing the pot and the soft thud of a towel carelessly tossed aside. 

He appeared behind you, a familiar warmth radiating from his body as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you close. The spicy scent of the cooking clung to his shirt, mingling with his own clean, masculine fragrance. His chin rested gently on your head.

Curiosity piqued, you asked, "Which one means the most to you?"

He guided both of you towards a shelf to the right, his hand leading yours to a particularly well-worn trophy, its surface already dulled. "This one is from our last match at university."

You traced the engraved plate at the base of the trophy, listening intently.

"It was against our biggest rivals," he began, his voice laced with a hint of nostalgia. "And honestly, we were the underdogs. First half was brutal, we were falling behind, and morale was low."

He paused, and you could almost hear the silence of that locker room, the taste of despair in the air. "But then, halftime hit. Suguru... he gave that speech. I don't remember the words, but it was something else. Somehow, he always knew exactly what to say."

You glanced up at him, your curiosity piqued by the sudden softness in his voice. You watched as a smile crept across his face. "After that, we just clicked. Everything fell into place, and we played like never before. We caught up, and in the final seconds, Suguru passed me the ball."

You leaned closer. "And?"

"And I took the shot," he said, a laugh bubbling up. "And it went in. Just like that, we won." He sighed, his gaze returning to the trophy. "That's why this one means so much. It was the end of an era for us, a perfect closure before we all went our separate ways."

"But you and Geto stayed close, you even did your residency years together. And Kento's still around."

"I know," he murmured, a shadow flickering across his face. "But things were never quite the same."

Before you could delve deeper, his phone began to ring, slicing through the moment. He reluctantly let go of you and picked up the phone, a slight frown forming as he glanced at the caller ID.

"Sorry, I need to take this," Satoru said, the warmth in his voice replaced by a hint of tension.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just a call I have to answer."

He quickly excused himself, moving towards his study with brisk steps. "Won't be long," he called over his shoulder before slipping through the door and softly closing it behind him.

With Satoru momentarily gone, you wandered through the living room, each step echoing slightly in the spacious area. Eventually, you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool evening air a welcome caress against your skin. The setting sun painted the sky in breathtaking shades of red and orange, a canvas of fiery hues that seemed to set the world ablaze.

After a few minutes bathed in the dying light, you glanced back over your shoulder, expecting to see Satoru returning. But the door remained closed.

Each minute stretched longer than the last, the beauty of the sunset gradually giving way to the twinkling lights of the city below. As you lingered on the balcony, soaking in the last hues of the sunset . Then, a sharp, acrid scent suddenly sliced through the air, pulling your attention away from the serene view.

Wrinkling your nose, you realized it was the unmistakable smell of something burning.

You hurried back into the apartment. At the same time, Satoru emerged from his study and hurried into the kitchen to turn off the stove. You stood behind him, trying to peak over his shoulder on your tiptoes to see what was left of the evening's meal—but the food was beyond saving, a blackened mess at the bottom of the pot.

He let out a heavy sigh, a boyish smile playing on his lips as he turned to you. "So, what type of takeout do you want?"

Leaning back on your heels you tiled your head. "Pizza sounds good."

"Then pizza it is," he declared with a chuckle, already reaching for his phone to place an order. "Sorry for that, the call took longer than I expected."

"Who was it?"

"Just hospital stuff," he mumbled, his eyes flitting away for a moment. "Nothing important."

"Really? Because you seemed a bit stressed—" you prodded gently. But just as you touched on the subject, the pizza place picked up his call, cutting the conversation short.

"Ah, hey, I'd like to place an order," Satoru said, turning slightly away.

You exhaled, frustration rising within you.

You stepped back onto the balcony, the lingering scent of smoke clinging to the air. Leaning against the railing, you watched the people weaving through the streets below. Streetlights flickered to life, painting the streets in a garish orange glow as the evening deepened into night.

His footsteps broke the silence before you felt his arms encircle you. The warmth of his body drove away the chill of the night. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath lightly brushing against your cheek as you both looked out over the cityscape.

"You've got this really huge balcony, but there's practically nothing on it. It's like you just moved in." You turned slightly within his embrace to gaze at the unused space, which indeed seemed unused, almost stark in its emptiness, except for the vast view it offered. "How long have you been living here, anyway?"

"You probably don't want to know." Then, a spark of something new flickered in his tone. "I have an idea."

His sudden shift startled you. "What?" You turned to face him, your back now leaning against the railing but he already wandered off.

He hurried inside, his movements a blur as he vanished into the living room and then the bedroom. Moments later, he reappeared, arms laden with pillows and blankets. He tossed them onto the cold stone floor. In an instant, the balcony was a sea of softness and warmth.

"What's all this for?"

Without skipping a beat, Satoru plopped down onto the blankets, patting the space beside him with a wide grin. "Come here."

You hesitated only for a moment before joining him, the softness of the blankets enveloping you. You leaned back against Satoru, finding a perfect nook between his outstretched legs, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer into his embrace. His lips found the crown of your head in a tender kiss.

Enveloped in the soft embrace of blankets and cushions, with the city's lights below mirroring the starlit sky above, you found yourself sinking deeper into his embrace. The warmth of his body, the rhythmic beat of his heart—it felt like coming home.

Satoru's hand moved then, fingers brushing against your arm, as it seemed the traced the very veins beneath your skin. Surgeon's hands, you thought. Hands trained for precision.

His hand found yours then, carefully intertwining your fingers with his. His hands, large yet so slender, bore the faintest marks—tiny stitch scar here, few freckles there.

"It healed well," you murmured, thumb tracing the mark on his hand where you'd stitched a cut, after he punched that student weeks ago. "Barely a mark left."

His fingers grazed your cheek, then cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Because one of the best surgeons took care of it." He tilted your chin upwards him, his eyes searching yours. His lips were inches from yours, a promise hanging in the air.

Then, the doorbell rang, a harsh, jarring sound that shattered the moment.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Pizza's here."

He eased away, leaving the warmth of his touch as an imprint on your skin. Moments later, he returned, pizza boxes in hand. As you settled back into the cozy nest of blankets, the scent of melted cheese and herbs filling the air.

Midway through your slice, Satoru's voice broke the silence with a question that felt like a thunderclap on a clear day.

"So, when do I get to meet your mother?"

You nearly choked on your bite. "My mother?" you repeated. "You know she's... well, not exactly the conventional type. She's a bit out there." Understatement of the century, you thought. 

"Can't be any more 'out there' than mine. Besides, she's your mom. I'd like to get to know my future mother-in-law."

"What?"

"Aren't we there yet?"

"Where? What are you talking about?"

"What, is the thought of you marrying me so absurd?"

"Kind of, yes."

"I'll just pretend I didn't hear that," he replied, undeterred.

"Are you serious?"

"I am serious." His tone softened, his eyes locked with yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, isn't that where this is heading? Us, together, for the long haul?"

Your heart raced.

How could he just blurt something like that out and act like it was nothing?

He dropped the idea of marriage as casually as suggesting a trip to Ikea next weekend—as if marrying him wasn't just a possibility—it was a given—as if being together with him—like forever—like until death do us part—was the most natural thing in the world.

Of course you're getting married, didn't you know?

Like, in his mind, marrying you was as natural and inevitable as the sun rising each day. He wasn't just proposing a future together. He was stating it as a fact, something he'd considered a done deal from the beginning and he'd simply been quietly waiting for you to catch up.

The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

"Or are you planning to dump me once the new semester starts?" he added.

"If you keep saying things like that, then yes."

In response, he closed the gap between you, his presence overwhelming. "Fine, then let me be clear—I absolutely do not want to marry you. In fact, I really can't stand you," he moved closer with each word, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "seriously, marrying you? Sounds like an absolute nightmare."

"Very funny, Dr. Gojo. Can't you ever be serious?"

His blue eyes held yours, the smile on his lips a shade bolder. "Dead serious." 

His lips hovered just inches from yours, a promise of a kiss hanging in the air. "I'm merely contemplating the perfect moment to ask my future Mrs. Gojo to marry me. Or perhaps you'd like to keep your last name?"

"You're impossible," you breathed, the word barely a whisper.

"But that's why you love me, isn't it?"

His words were barely audible, drowned out by the frantic pounding of your heart, his lips so cruelly close. But just as the distance between you was about to disappear, a harsh, jarring sound shattered the moment once again.

Satoru froze, a frown marring his handsome features. He glanced at his phone, the annoyance evident, before pulling away with a resigned sigh. "I'm sorry, I need to take this."

"It's okay, go ahead," you said, despite the disappointment that fluttered in your chest.

Satoru offered a strained smile before stepping away to answer the call. You watched him as he moved to a quieter corner inside his apartment. The ease and warmth that had enveloped you both just seconds ago were replaced by a sudden chill of distance.

As you waited, the unease settled in again, heavier this time. You watched him, he paced the room, seemingly distressed. When Satoru returned, his expression was unreadable, a mask that gave nothing away.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just work stuff," he replied. "Where were we?" He leaned in, attempting to recapture the lost spark, but the interruption had fractured something.

You frowned slightly. "You're hiding something."

He paused, a mere heartbeat away, his gaze lingering on the curve of your lips. "Nothing to worry your pretty head about."

"So there is something," you pressed.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, he closed the distance, his lips finding yours in a slow, deep kiss. Satoru's lips were warm and soft, his breath mingling with yours as he deepened the kiss. His fingers traced your jawline, a feather-light caress that belied the urgency in his eyes.

"It's nothing important," he murmured against your lips.

Your heart raced, matching the rhythm of his own. The heat in my stomach flared to life, a familiar, treacherous heat that threatened to drown out your doubts.

Slowly, his tongue slipped past your lips, parted them, and then licked along your lower lip.

"You're really testing me with your secrets," you breathed into his mouth. Yet, you parted your lips further for him to claim.

"You're really testing my patience with your stubbornness," he said before claiming your mouth once more. His hand slid down your neck, tracing the outline of your collarbone before venturing south. His fingertips danced over the fabric of your shirt, sending shivers up your skin.

You clung to him, wanting more of his kiss, feeling yourself falling deeper under his spell. Satoru responded in kind, his hand venturing lower, sliding beneath the fabric of your leggings. "I wouldn't be so stubborn if you would just tell me."

"But stubbornness suits you, sweetheart." His fingers moved further down, pushing aside the already damp fabric of your underwear. "It adds to the thrill." As his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin, a soft moan escaped your lips and the treacherous heat in your stomach flared higher.

"Has anyone ever told you you're impossible?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you never stop talking?" he countered, before sliding a finger inside you, eliciting a moan from your lips. You closed your eyes, biting down on your lip as he added another finger, and then a third. "That's how you like it, right?"

His fingers moved with deliberate slowness. Each teasing touch sent shivers through your body, eliciting moans that escaped your lips uncontrollably. Your hips arched towards him, seeking more of his touch. Satoru smirked, sensing your surrender. "Good girl. Let me hear those pretty little sounds."

This man.

This fucking man, did always know how to play you, how to make you weak, how to make you forget all your good reasons, leaving you desperate for his touch. He was a dangerous addiction, and you craved another hit, consequences be damned.

But can anyone blame you, when fucking Satoru Gojo's fingers were in you?

"You can't just fuck your way out of every argument," you protested, though your voice wavered.

"Oh really?" With a subtle grin, his movements intensified, his fingers delving deeper and faster. You grasped at his shoulders, tugging him closer as the pressure built inside of you. "I might want to try it anyway."

Suddenly, he withdrew, pulling down your leggings to reveal a new pair of lace underwear. "So you did buy something?" he remarked with a playful smirk.

"I never said I didn't."

Satoru's eyes gleamed as he admired the delicate lace accentuating your pretty curves. His fingers traced lightly along the edges, grazing over the fabric that barely concealed the allure of your skin beneath. "You look so fucking hot in that, what a shame I have to get you out of it."

"Then I should just keep it on, don't you think?"

His lips twitched into a half grin. "Just how I like it."

With a swift movement, Satoru pulled you onto his lap. He drew you close as his lips sought yours once more, deepening the kiss, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies. You reached up, your fingers tangling in his silvery hair as you pressed your lips against his.

His hands roamed restlessly across the hemline of your shirt. With a quick, eager tug, he pulled the fabric upwards, exposing your chest to the cool night air. A shiver ran through you, goosebumps rising along your arms.

He smiled wickedly, his teeth flashing white against the darkness as he took in the sight of the delicate lace of your matching bra. "You really have good taste."

"I know." Every inch of your skin tingled under the weight of his gaze as you closed the distance between you once more, your lips eagerly seeking his. Satoru pulled you tight against his chest, his lips devouring yours with fervor.

His hands wandered over the intricate pattern of your lace bra, exploring every curve and contour. His touch was both gentle and possessive, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips as you pressed your breasts against his hand, craving more of his touch.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of fire down your neck. His tongue teased over your collarbone and then down over your breasts as he worshiped every inch of your skin with fervent devotion.

His hand deftly pushed aside the thin lace to reveal your bare skin. His tongue traced circles around the sensitive nipples, causing you to gasp aloud.

"So, where's that attitude now?" he teased.

"Still here," you managed to breathe out.

"Then I'll just have to work harder."

With a sudden surge of energy, he pushed you back, pinning you down onto the soft bedding below. One hand closed around your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to send a thrill through you. The other hand wasted no time and was already between your legs.

Without hesitation, he slid three fingers slow and deep inside you, filling you completely. His grip on your throat tightened with each inch he buried his fingers deeper.

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of pain and pleasure wracking your senses. Yet, somehow, it felt right, exactly how you needed him to be in that moment. 

"You like that, don't you?"

"Fuck, yes," you moaned as he began to move his fingers within you.

As if reading your mind, Satoru shifted his attention to your nipples again, caressing them hungrily with his tongue. The contrast of the roughness of his grip with the velvety softness of his caresses left you dizzy with excitement, your body responding eagerly to his every move.

Your mouth fell open, unable to contain the moans that escaped freely from your lips. You didn't care if someone could hear you. Someone must definitely hear you, how loud you were. 

With each passing second, your breath grew shallower, your heartbeat faster as you lost yourself entirely to him. With each stroke of his fingers, he coaxed another sigh, another whimper from your throat. Every inch of your skin tingled with heightened sensitivity, urging you forward towards release.

"You have anything to say now? Or did I find a way to shut you up?" he teased.

"You're such a dick sometimes."

With those words, his lips found their way back to your ears, breathing hotly against your skin. "Maybe," he whispered, "but remember how that 'dick' can make you feel."

He suddenly intensified his rhythm, each thrust deeper and more forceful than the last. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him towards you, and you opened your mouth wide beneath his.

"Tell me," he breathed against your lips, "how bad you want to cum?"

You moaned deeply into his mouth. "I don't."

What a lie.

"So stubborn." He broke from your lips to trail feather-light kisses down your jawline and neck. His teeth grazed lightly over the pulse point at your collarbone. You gasped, your body arching toward him. He looked up at you with a wicked grin, knowing full well how close you were now. "Seems like someone's pretty close for not wanting to cum."

"Shut up and finish what you started, Satoru," you demanded.

"You're not the one in command here." His grip on your throat tightened, sending a jolt of excitement through you. For a moment, you struggled against his hold, desperate for oxygen. Then, just as abruptly, he released you, allowing you to catch your breath.

"Now tell me, how bad you want to cum?" With swift movements, he descended lower, planting wet kisses over your chest, his tongue flicking teasingly over your skin.

"You're such a bitch," you gasped, but your defense was wearing thin as you sensed that you couldn't hold it in any longer. "Fuck—Make me cum, Satoru," you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Your heart raced as his fingers increased the pressure. His thumb found your clit, pressing firmly and beginning to rub in slow, deliberate circles. He pushed you closer and closer to the edge, until you rolled your eyes back in your head, screaming out his name in sheer pleasure.

As you lay gasping for breath, your limbs heavy with satisfaction, he moved closer, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. Your mouth fell open, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as his fingers, still buried deep inside you, coaxed out every last bit of your orgasm.

"Good girl," he whispered against your lips, "all messed up and so pretty for me."

"I hate you."

"I'm sure you do." He withdrew his fingers, which were soaked up to his knuckles. Bringing them to his lips, he licked from his knuckles upwards to his fingertips, savoring your taste. "So, what were we arguing about just now?"

"I know exactly what we were arguing about," you said, a sudden surge of energy coursing through you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled over, pinning him beneath you.

His hands found their way to your waist, pressing you down against his already hard bulge. "What's with the sudden power play?"

Your hands slid under his shirt, exploring the contours of his chest, eliciting a shudder from him beneath your touch. "Shut up and take off your shirt."

Without hesitation, he straightened up and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, his lips hovering just before yours as he did so. "Trying to take charge, are we?" His gaze was fixed on your lips, anticipation evident in his eyes.

With his shirt discarded, you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

"So, are you going to tell me now?" You began to rock back and forth against him, grinding your hips into his groin, leaving him gasping for breath beneath you. He let his head fall back, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the sensation, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

"Didn't we already go over this?" he breathed out, his voice strained with the effort to maintain control amidst the overwhelming pleasure engulfing him.

"You're dodging the question."

Leaning forward, you pressed your body flush against his, trailing soft kisses down his neck, savoring every inch of his heated skin. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, and he responded eagerly, his fingers clutching at your curves hungrily.

As you ground deeper against him, your movements became more intense. He let out a raspy moan, unable to hold back his noises any longer. "Please... Please, just keep doing that," he begged, his hands gripping your hips tightly as if trying to anchor you to him.

"Still avoiding my question," you persisted.

"You really can't enjoy a single night without having to start an argument," he countered, drawing his brows together. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath, his body consumed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. "Ah fuck, right there."

"You're a real pain in the ass," you gasped, though your own moans betrayed the words as his trousers rubbed against your core, the sensation of his hard length pressing against you sending shivers down your spine. Your gaze fixated on his lips, still glistening from your kisses.

The sight of him beneath you was both thrilling and intimidating—his muscles flexed and rippled under your touch, his skin sheened with sweat. Drops of moisture formed at the corners of his eyes. "I told you there's—ah, fuck—nothing to worry about, just let me—ah—handle it," he strained to articulate, his words punctuated with moans.

You weren't sure if you wanted to punch him or admire him for his persistence.

"I swear, you're going to kill me with this," he gasped, his fingers digging into your waist as if anchoring himself to reality amidst the overwhelming sensation. "But damn it, keep doing it anyway."

You trailed your fingers down his chest, marveling at the play of muscles beneath his skin. As you grazed your nails across his chiseled abs, you noticed a subtle tremble in the muscles beneath your fingertips. They rippled and contracted, revealing the urgency that radiated from him.

"Fuck, I can't hold back any longer. Let me fuck you already, or I'll cum in my pants," he groaned.

"Oh, you want to cum?" you tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips. "Then tell me, what's going on?"

"God, damn it. Leave it be, and let me fuck you."

You abruptly stopped grinding on him, releasing your hold and leaning back slightly. "No telling me, no fucking me," you declared, standing up and moving away.

"Ha? Wait, what?" Satoru's eyes shot open immediately, frustration evident in his expression as he watched you retrieve your leggings and cover the lace underwear you had worn just for him. 

Popping himself up on his elbows, his heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to control his breathing. "Are you fucking with me?"

"Apparently not." You tossed his shirt onto his chest as you walked past him. "How about a movie?"

─── ·✧· ───

Your hands were under the steady stream of water once again.

The familiar adrenaline rush was there, but less this time. It was already your sixth surgery. Everything went well. No complications. No problems. 

Each time, it felt just a little easier to breathe.

The sterile quiet of the washing room was almost comforting, except for the distant echo of pacing from the hallway outside. You glanced through the small window, seeing Satoru's silhouette through the frosted glass.

He moved restlessly, a phone glued to his ear. Even from this distance, the tension in his shoulders was palpable. Every now and then, he'd run a hand through his hair.

Then, the door swung open with a jarring noise, and Satoru stepped in, filling the small space with his presence. You turned off the tap and dried your hands, watching him closely. 

He moved to the sink beside you, his steps a touch too heavy. The tap screeched under his grip as he wrenched it open, the water spilling in an almost violent rush. The scrub brush trembled in his grip, his knuckles white as bleached bones against the harsh fluorescent lighting.

"Satoru, what's wrong?"

A muscle jumped in his jaw before he forced a smile. It stretched his lips but didn't touch his eyes. "Everything's fine," he said, the words coming out a bit too quickly, a bit too rehearsed. "Just hospital bureaucracy, you know how it is."

You didn't believe him. Not one bit. 

"Really? Because you seemed pretty stressed just now. And we're about to perform a rather complicated surgery in a few minutes."

He turned off the tap, his back to you for a brief moment to dry his hands that felt like an eternity. When he faced you again, the smile plastered on his face was a poor mask. 

"I'm fine, really. But thanks for asking," he replied, his tone softer now. "How are you feeling? Ready for this?"

"You know, it's getting annoying to hear the same lies over and over again."

He cut you off, a little more sharply than intended. "I said it's nothing. Let's focus on the surgery, okay?"

He's in withdrawal.

He's in withdrawal and there's probably something going on that you don't know about.

He's in withdrawal and there's probably something going on that you don't know about and he's not ready to share it yet—to protect you or whatever stupid reason he has.

He's in withdrawal and there's probably something going on that you don't know about and he's not ready to share it yet—to protect you or whatever stupid reason he has.You had to remind yourself of that to keep yourself from stepping up to him and fucking spitting in his face.

Still—

His words cut deep.

As Satoru made to leave the room, he hesitated momentarily beside you, a silent struggle evident in his stance. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words barely audible. "Let's talk about this later, okay?" With a gentle kiss on your temple, he made his exit, his presence fading along with the scent of his cologne.

You followed him into the operating room. A knot formed in your stomach, the weight of silence a heavy cloak between you.

But professionalism took over as you both slipped into the practiced rhythm of your teamwork. Each movement was precise, a result of hours of practice and the deep understanding you had developed of each other's methods and thoughts.

The silent communication between you, carried by mere glances and subtle shifts in posture, made the complex procedure flow smoothly. As usual.

For a time, everything progressed as planned.

The humming of the equipment and the occasional soft command from Satoru were the only sounds that broke the concentration in the room.

Then, without warning, the steady rhythm of the operation was shattered. A sudden hemorrhage began in the brain. Blood, crimson and shocking, bloomed on the screen. The calmness of the procedure was replaced by a sudden urgency.

"We have a bleeding," Satoru's voice remained steady, his focus unwavering on the operative field.

Fuck.

Fuck.

This shouldn't happen.

This couldn't happen.

Panic clawed at your throat. 

Breath... where was it?

Each gasp a futile fight for air that never came.

Your hands, slick with sweat inside the gloves, fumbled like a stranger's. 

The room tilted, the harsh ceiling lights blurring into blinding white. 

Do something—why can't I think—was it my fault, my fault, my—

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Satoru's voice cut through like a lifeline, commanding your attention. "Focus on my voice. Just my voice, can you do that for me?"

You met his gentle gaze, the slight furrow in his brow softening as he looked at you. "You're not alone in this, just follow what I'm saying, okay?"

Fuck, get your shit together.

You weren't alone. You had him.

You nodded, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"I need you to apply direct pressure here," he said, pointing with his instrument to the bleeding vessel. Your trembling hands fumbled for a moment before you grasped the sterile gauze, positioning it with painstaking care over the spot Satoru had indicated.

"Good. Hold it there while I cauterize the vessel. We need to stop the bleeding without compromising the surrounding tissue." Satoru took the bipolar forceps and skillfully maneuvered it around the critical area. 

"You're doing great," he said, his voice calm but focused as he worked to seal the bleeding vessel. "Just hold steady."

After a tense few minutes, the bleeding was controlled.

Satoru took a moment to assess the situation, ensuring that the bleeding had indeed stopped and that the patient remained stable. "That should do it. You can release the pressure now."

You slowly released the pressure, your hands betraying a slight tremor. 

You hated it.

Hated how weak and powerless you felt in those moments.

Hated the fear that had momentarily choked you.

"Do you need a moment?" Satoru asked.

You wanted to say yes, to let the tears of relief roll down your cheeks, but something held you back. "No, I'm okay," you replied. But you both knew you weren't.

His gaze held yours, his concern evident. He wasn't fooled by your bravery, seeing the tremor in your gloved hands, the slight tightening of your jaw. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice softer now. "It's okay to step out if you need to catch your breath."

"No," you insisted. "Let's finish this."

Stepping away from the table, you took a deep breath, trying to dispel the lingering fear. With a determined shrug, you forced a smile. Satoru returned the smile and together, you dove back into the task at hand, closing up the patient with practiced precision.

The rest of the operation proceeded without incident. With each suture placed, with each step that brought the procedure to its close, the unease that had gripped you began to recede, inch by painstaking inch.

Relief washed over both of you as the final sutures were placed, sealing the wound and marking the end of the surgery.

─── ·✧· ───

Later, you found yourself in the observation room, awaiting the results of the CT scan on the patient with the bleeding. You wanted, needed, the scan to be flawless, a clean slate erasing the memory of trembling hands and breathless fear.

A tense silence suffocated the observation room, broken only by the rhythmic hum of machines and Satoru's relentless fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden tabletop. Your eyes glued to the CT machine through the window as you waited for the images to appear.

Satoru's gaze then flickered to you, concern etching lines on his brow. "You look pale," he observed quietly. "Are you okay?"

You forced a smile, the gesture feeling brittle. "Yeah, just the adrenaline, I guess. Long day." The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

Satoru studied you for a moment, his silence more telling than words. 

He always saw too much.

"I'm starting to think I might not be cut out for this," you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

His reply was immediate. "That's not true. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"I almost panicked back there. If you hadn't—"

"So what," he interrupted gently. "That's perfectly fine. You're still learning. Believe me, I messed up way more when I was starting out."

"Hard to imagine."

"Don't get down on yourself," he said. "You're doing great."

A flicker of doubt sparked in the back of your mind. Were you? 

After a moment, he added softly, "Look, I know I've been asking a lot of you. If you need to take a step back—"

"No," you interrupted, the word sharper than intended. "I don't want to give up."

"Taking a break isn't giving up," he said gently. The concern in his eyes made you want to squirm.

His offer, meant to be supportive, struck a nerve—chipped away at your carefully constructed armor. No, you couldn't accept that. Couldn't face the echoing void it would leave, the fear that without this, there was nothing. You were nothing.

The pressure built—an unseen weight crushing your chest.

So, you did what any rational human being would do in that situation, right?

You pushed back.

"When will you stop shutting me out?"

"Can we not do this now?" There was a weariness in his voice that you hadn't heard before.

"So when, Satoru?" you pressed. "When is the perfect time to tell me what's going on?"

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "This isn't the time or place," he insisted, his voice tight. "We need to focus on the patient."

"You're impossible!" The accusation hung in the air. "How can you stand there, acting like nothing's wrong, when it's so obvious something is?"

He held your gaze, the storm in his eyes mirroring your own. "I know what I'm doing," he said, each word clipped. "But you—what's happening with you right now?"

As if on cue, the door opened, and Geto stepped inside. 

"Heard there was a bit of excitement in surgery," Geto remarked, his breezy tone a stark contrast to the lingering anger in the room. "What happened?"

Satoru tore his gaze from you, reluctantly shifting his focus. "Not sure yet. We had an unexpected bleeding. We're waiting on the pictures to get a better idea."

Geto's eyes flickered to you, a hand coming to rest on the back of your chair. "You look pale. How are you holding up?" he echoed Satoru's earlier observation.

Were you really that pale or what?

"I'm fine, just tired."

Satoru's phone suddenly vibrated, the jarring sound cutting through the already strained silence. He glanced at the display, his expression hardening. "I need to take this."Without another word, he stepped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

He was gone, but the tension lingered, a suffocating presence in the small room. Geto watched Satoru's retreating form, a sigh escaping his lips. He turned to you, settling into the chair Satoru had just vacated.

You couldn't quite meet his gaze. It was clear he sensed the unease that hung in the air.

"Is everything okay between you two?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I don't know." You scrubbed a hand over your face. "I'm stupid, Geto."

"Why that, pretty?"

"It's just... there's something off, and I'm not making it any easier for him to talk about it," you said, the words barely a whisper. "I feel like things are getting worse again."

"Makes sense. He's been cutting down his meds too quickly. It's no surprise he's in heavy withdrawal."

"Cutting down one milligram every two weeks isn't too fast," you said, slightly offended that he questioned your perfect withdrawal plan. "That's standard protocol."

Geto's reply was blunt, cutting through your denial like a knife. "One? He slashed his dose in half. That's reckless, even for him."

"What?"

"Huh?" Geto's brow furrowed, surprised by your reaction.

"What did you say?"

"That he reduced his dosage by half, hasn't he? Like, he went from ten milligrams down to five."

The room felt smaller, the air heavier.

"You didn't know, huh?" Geto's voice was soft now.

Admitting it out loud felt like unraveling a tightly wound string. "I didn't. He mentioned six milligrams—" Your voice trailed off, a sickening feeling spreading through your chest.

Geto's expression softened. "He's good at hiding things."

"And there's something else," you said, sinking deeper into your chair. "Something he's been hiding ever since that we got back from that coastal university."

A slight smile flickered across Geto's face. "Heard you managed to put Sukuna in his place in front of everyone."

"Sukuna's insufferable. I can't believe Satoru ever saw him as anything close to a friend."

"Friends? No, they were more like enemies drawn together by their shared taste for self-destruction rather than real friendship."

"Yeah, I saw as much."

Geto leaned in slightly. "But Sukuna... he was a particularly bad influence on Satoru. It was better for both of them when their paths finally split. After all, Sukuna was the reason for Satoru's addiction."

"What?"

"Sukuna was the one who introduced him to that whole scene. Kept him well-supplied until they both got hooked."

The revelation hit you like a physical blow, the air knocked from your lungs as the pieces fell into place.

"You didn't know that either, huh?" Geto observed.

Silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. 

Finally, Geto spoke again, his tone weary. "Look, it's how he's always been. Walls up before anyone gets too close, pushing people away because—" he paused, a flicker of pain crossing his face, "—because he's convinced that deep down, he's broken. That if anyone truly sees him, they'll run for the hills."

A bitter laugh escaped you. "For someone who warned me to stay away from him, you sure are making it awfully hard to hate him, you know?"

"You two are like a car crash you can't take your eyes off. And honestly? Trying to separate you is pointless. I'm just trying to make it less painful for me to watch, because Satoru—," he trailed off, shaking his head, "—Satoru sure knows how to screw things up."

His words stung, but there was truth in them. 

You both knew Satoru's tendency for self-sabotage.

Geto paused, searching for the right words. "Thing is, back then, Satoru was different. Restless, always trying to prove something. Sukuna saw that vulnerability and played on it. Offered him what he thought was friendship. But it was all just a trap, a slow poison."

He shifted in his seat, "Satoru lost himself to that addiction before he even realized how deep he was in."

He leaned closer, making sure you were listening. "But you? You're good for him, whether you see it or not."

"Hard to believe that right now," you mumbled.

Geto's reply was immediate. "The fact he's opened up to you at all, about this?" He shook his head, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "Hell, you survived meeting his mom. That's unheard of."

"Has Satoru ever actually dated anyone?"

"Not seriously," Geto shrugged. "He's always been too good at sabotage, pushing people away before it gets real."

Your mind lingered on a seemingly offhand comment. "Wait, what's the deal with his mom?"

"Lovely woman, isn't she?"Geto leaned back in his chair, his gaze on you suddenly darkening. He pulled out a cigarette, the click of his lighter cutting through the tense silence.

You raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Smoking here?"

"Ah, come on, don't start," he retorted, a wry smile playing on his lips as he inhaled deeply, the smoke curling toward the ceiling. "Satoru's upbringing was intense, to say the least. Top surgeons, generations of them. The expectations were sky-high."

"What about his father?"

Geto exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Absent. Barely even speaks to his mother now."

Your head spun, piecing together fragments of Satoru's past.

Must feel exhausting.

Must feel suffocating.

Must feel cruelly lonely, growing up in a family devoid of love, chasing a lifelong search for validation in a family that valued success above all else.

Must feel even more cruelly lonely when you can't even talk about it, can't open up to anyone about it. Maybe it was easier for him to give in to his addiction.

Talk about a vicious cycle.

Then suddenly the pictured of the CT scan appeared on the monitor, reminding you that you were still in charge of a patient. Geto leaned in, studying it with practiced eyes. "Looks like Satoru managed to control the bleeding, everything's looking stable."

"Good work, both of you," he added as his gaze flickered back to you.

His praise fell flat. You mustered up a weak smile in response.

As you sat there, a sudden vibration from your phone broke the tense silence. You glanced at the screen, seeing Satoru's name flash across the top. The message was brief, almost curt.

[3:31 PM] Satoru: Had to go somewhere. Don't wait for me. Go home.

A lump formed in your throat. "It's Satoru."

Geto leaned over to glance at your phone screen, his eyebrows knitting together as he took another drag from his cigarette. After a moment, he exhaled deeply, his hand absentmindedly massaging the back of his neck.

Standing up, he flicked ash into a nearby trash. "I'll take you home."

You looked up at him. "But, the patient... I should stay."

"I'll ask one of the residents to keep an eye on things."

"But—"

"Don't," Geto cut in gently. "You've done enough for today."

You knew he was right.

With your mind all over the place, it was probably best not to keep an eye on a patient fresh from brain surgery. Not without Satoru. You wanted to do nothing without him.

You nodded, the fight draining out of you. "Okay."

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, under the amber glow of the setting sun, you stood at Satoru's door.

Maybe you were stupid. Maybe you were just in love. Maybe both. 

Anyway, after a moment's hesitation, you pressed the doorbell. Its chime seemed overly loud. The door creaked open, revealing Satoru.

The spark you always adored, the one that danced in his eyes, was dimmed. Fatigue etched itself onto his features, a heavy cloak weighing him down. He appeared genuinely taken aback to see you standing there, a momentary flicker of confusion crossing his face.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

The question wasn't accusatory—it seemed more like he was genuinely confused, as if the concept of someone showing up at his door unannounced was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve in his current state.

"I messaged you," you started, holding up the bag of sushi takeaway as if it were a peace offering. "Thought you could use a decent meal."

"Sorry, I've been..." He trailed off, a hand running through his unkempt hair. "I haven't checked my phone."

Without waiting for further invitation, you pressed the bag of sushi into his hands and pushed past him into the apartment. 

Inside you were greeted by a chaotic mess throughout the living room. Papers spilled across the living room floor like fallen leaves, medical journals and crumpled notes forming chaotic constellations on every surface. The sight stopped you in your tracks. 

"What's all this?"

Satoru closed the door and followed your gaze around the room, as if seeing the mess for the first time.

"Been trying to make sense of what happened today in the OR." He sounded tired, the weight of his concerns evident in the slump of his shoulders. "I feel like I'm missing something—it's driving me mad not knowing."

He moved to clear a corner of the coffee table, the papers scattering under his frantic hands. You watched him, a knot forming in your stomach.

"Let's take a break," you suggested, settling down on the floor in front of the couch. You began to clear more space on the coffee table, making space for the sushi.

Looking up at him, you saw that he just stared at you, as if unsure if he was even allowed to sit at his own table next to you. "Come on, Satoru, sit down."

He sank down opposite you, papers rustling beneath him. Your chopsticks snapped with a harsh crack, the sound jarring in the strained silence. "The CT scans came back clear," you began, "the bleeding was fully stopped. No further complications."

"Good to hear," he said with a snap of his chopsticks.

"What do you think went wrong?"

He paused, his brow furrowing in contemplation. "Hard to say. Everything was textbook until it wasn't. Maybe it was some anatomical abnormality we missed, or perhaps it was just one of those unpredictable factors that remind us we're not as in control as we think."

"Isn't that how it always is? Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. You taught me that."

He sighed. "That's just something we teach young doctors, so they'll not lose their minds. In the end, we can't control shit. It's just an illusion we comfort ourselves with to keep from drowning in our own insignificance."

"Is that how you see things?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. "I don't know... I'm talking nonsense," his voice trailed off, "I just feel like today was one of those days that reminds you how fragile everything is. How quickly things can change, despite our best efforts. Makes you wonder... what's the point?"

"There is no point, neither in life nor in death." His eyes widened slightly as you continued. "But you can either cry about the whole meaninglessness of the world or try to find meaning in it, to do something that gives meaning to life."

"Is that how you see things?" He reached for a sushi roll, fingers hovering for a moment, then lowered the chopsticks back onto the table. "Doesn't that drive you insane?"

"Perhaps, but still more sane than you."

He huffed, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Fair point."

Silence enveloped you as you simply gazed at each other.

His eyes, that captivating shade of blue, held yours with unwavering intensity—demanding nothing and offering everything—a silent conversation where words were unnecessary.

It felt like drowning—looking in his eyes felt like drowning—strangely, yet in the best way possible.

No fear. No need for rescue.

This man.

God, this man is it.

Even with all his stupidity and flaws.

A flicker of warmth spread through you as you traced the faint stubble on his chin, the scar at his temple—imperfections that made him all the more beautiful in your eyes. Every detail seemed newly etched, like you were seeing him for the first time.

In that stretched thin slice of eternity, a thought pierced through your mind, terrifying in its clarity. If his love were a sharp blade aimed at your heart, you'd gladly embrace its piercing edge, for what is love if not the sweetest pain?

His breath caught, a tiny hitch, and his eyes softened, the sharp edges melting away. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, tentative at first, then widening. 

You couldn't help but mirror him.

Then without warning his voice, low and rough like velvet rasping against stone, shattered the silence.

"I love you."

Ha?

"And I got sued."

Haaaa?

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: first, a huge THANK YOU to everyone reading and supporting my story! it seriously means the world. hope you loved this chapter, and i can't wait to hear what you think!

also, i'm considering writing the next chapter from satoru's pov to delve deeper into his rather messed up head, so that should be fun. hopefully, it'll finally make sense why he does… well, everything.

quick note about the reader's doubts, i know it might feel sudden so i want to clarify that a bit more. essentially, she grew up with a highly skilled surgeon as a father, so death wasn't something she dwelled on much and she never really questions herself until things happen.

but with this new approach to surgery, where there's no blueprint and every procedure is high stakes, doubts start creeping in. not to say that satoru is a terrible surgeon, he is indeed the best in his field, but you get it, right?

there is more potential for some unexpected things to happen during surgery and also the reader is unlike in her past along side satoru responsible for the outcome and not merely assisting. plus, the overall stress that comes with being around pain-in-the-ass satoru gojo.

speaking of satoru, i wanted to add that he never really learned how to communicate or articulate love in any form of relationship, neither to his family nor to a potential partner. so he's very clumsy with it, despite being quite sure about his feelings towards the reader. i think that adds a fun touch to the story but also makes the reader lose her mind.

regarding his upbringing, which was pretty much filled with emotional neglect and high expectations, it left him feeling pretty much unlovable unless he excelled at everything he does.

this eventually led to his addiction, which started innocently with ritalin to focus during exams, as mentioned in chapter nine, to meet the high demands of his family but at the same time he used it also to numb deeper pain. and eventually everything spiraled out. a vicious cycle indeed.

so yeah, there's a LOT going on under the surface! i'm excited to explore it more, i just love troubled humans omg. what do you think so far? does his character make sense (or am I totally crazy here)?

okay that was much text. thanks again for reading! love you all! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[pixiesfz]

competitive n.c x reader

plot: you and your girlfriend vs eachother as captains for the first time

warnings: none

you knew it would eventually happen, both you and your girlfriend vice captains for your respective teams.

You had talked about it, you a striker and Niamh a defender. You would not go soft on each other during those 90 minutes your team was your priority.

But yet you didn’t run into that problem quite yet as both captains, but when Alex rolled her ankle right before the game you ended up adorning the captain armband and walked up to shake your girlfriend’s hand.

“Y/n” she stated, a smirk on her face so big you had to control rolling your eyes.

“Niamh” you said back, your facial expression now matching hers.

You lifted out your hand to your girlfriend which she took in hers with a strong grip as she squeezed it like a usual bitter player would but grazed her thumb over your knuckles and subtly winked at you after, showing it was a joke.

This time you couldn’t control the annoyment in your eyes.

“My girlfriend the jokester” you muttered as the referee came up. “Fair game girls?” she asked and you both looked at each other knowingly “yep” you answered and Niamh nodded before you both walked away looking like strangers ready to play a game of football.

“ready girls?” You asked your team with a smile as they broke apart the team huddle for you. “Are you ready?” Kerstin teased beside you and you softly wacked the back of her head “of course I am” you smiled, ready to help your team win and earn more points.

When the siren rang out through the speakers to play an energetic burst locked you in. You weren’t sure if it was the feeling of the band that sat around your arm but you felt unstoppable with the ball at your feet.

But Chelsea had a fair share of good goalkeepers.

Hannah Hampton dived out to her right and would’ve saved it.

But you kicked to the left.

With a swoosh of the net you ran out, hands wide out as your teammates ran into you.

A lead in the first fifteen minutes was a mental adrenaline rush even for both teams.

Chelsea fought back, playing ten times harder than before and ten times more aggressively which you couldn’t believe the referee turned a blind eye at.

“Ref!” You yelled out as you once again got up from the ground, rubbing off the grass stains on your knees.

“Maybe just play better then” a voice popped out and you snapped your head around to see your girlfriend run away from you with a cheeky grin.

If Niamh was smart she would’ve kept her mouth shut, she knows how much you can get off on dirty play and how angry you can get from word of mouth.

But just like you her adrenaline was running.

halfway through the second half the score was 1-1, your goal being the only point for mancity and Aggie for Chelsea.

Viv had lost control of the ball in your half allowing Millie to gain control as she passed a long ball to Niamh.

Fuelled on rage you ran towards your girlfriend and turned to your side, kicking out the ball before she could get there, making Niamh fall before you.

“Ref!” Niamh yelled out as the play proceeded.

You smirked and turned around “maybe you should just play better then”.

Niamh sighed as you ran away, shaking her head. If there was one thing that she loved about you was your competitiveness

At least when it wasn’t on her.

When city earned a corner in the 87th minute your jogged over to the small flag. You looked for a free header from one of your teammates but Chelsea had many tall players, Millie bright to be exact who was covering anyone she could.

You shook your head and made your decision, you had only successfully scored a goal from a corner before (in tenth grade) but when your foot collided with the ball you heard gasps from the fans behind you and then the cheers as it hit the net.

With only three minutes left you cheered for a tad bit longer than you should’ve, kissing all your fellow forward players on the head as they all laughed it off.

You ran back to your position, walking past your annoyed girlfriend who couldn’t help but look at you in admiration. You were playing good, really fucking good.

when the game ended you were given the POTM award and smiled bright, hugging your coach and then smiling for photos.

You finally were able to take a big breath as you reached the tunnel, ignoring the sound of cleats hitting the floor behind you until arms wrapped around you and a face snuggle into your neck.

“Why did you decide today to play an amazing game” Niamh grumbled as you smiled at her playfulness.

“Well somebody told me to just play better so I listened” you teased and she scoffed.

“You finish taking your photos with your trophy?” She asked and you nodded “I’m going to look all hot and sweaty in all of them” you complained before you squeezed, Niamh picking you up surprisingly.

“You’ll look gorgeous in them, you always are” she smiled, leaning in to peck your lips “god you are such a flirt” you laughed as she started walking, you still in your arms.

“We have to go, I have to reward my girlfriend for playing such a good game” she smirked looking down on you as your cheeks blushed.

“Lead the way”.

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Lucifer x sinner reader?

Two of a kind

Warnings: Gn! Reader, Lucifer has some prejudice against sinners, but other than that honestly just a fluffy meet-cute between Luci and the reader!

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1240

A/n: Hi! thanks for the request! This one was a little tricky to write as you didn’t specify anything more than your request, so I had to come up with some kind of plot for it! But I definitely had fun writing for Lucifer! I’m sure everyone here knows that I simp for Adam (if that wasn’t obvious) but I also adore Luci! Anyways, I hope you enjoy <3

Reblogs Appreciated

Also what do y’all think about Luci’s header I made?

Lucifer’s visit to the hotel certainly was…. Eventful.

Seeing his daughter was the best thing he’s done in ages, but it did come at the cost of having to be around the hotel’s sinners, especially that red headed radio guy. To put it simply, Lucifer was having one of the worst days so far. That was until… Charlie decided to introduce him to another one of the hotel's guests who had shown up late to his welcome party.

They yelp as they rush in through the door, falling down face first into the ground. “Charlie! I have the extra decorations for your dad’s par… ty…” they lifted their head slightly to see two black heeled-boots right in front of them.

Their head slowly lifted, eyes following up the body in front of them, observing the intricate red design on a snow white suit, a big black bow tie, and eventually two crimson red eyes adorned with a mop of slick backed blond hair. Right away, they knew who it was, they've seen him in many portraits in the hotel… It was Lucifer.

Lucifer watched intently as they let out a sound akin to a squeak when they jumped back slightly while on the ground, mumbling something that sounded like an apology, but Lucifer paid it no mind as his eyes stared at you with something even more than intrigue.

See, Lucifer possessed a type of ability to see the souls of those around him. It was an ability most Angels and even some high ranking Winners had. And usually, he could mark what exactly got them here, to make them sinners. He’s always been able to do it, he’s even able to see if a sinner's soul was owned or if they themselves owned souls.

But them… He couldn’t quite pinpoint why they’d be here. He could see it, the marks of sin burned into their soul but what they were for, what they had done, was hidden far far from his eyes. But even then your soul was shockingly nearly spotless aside from those scars of sin. That intrigued him so much.

“And you are?” Lucifer asked, extending his hand down towards the slightly shaking body on the ground. They hesitantly took his hand, their own was soft against his as he held it gently.

“Oh right! Dad this is Y/n! One of our guests here at the hotel! They have made excellent progress in their journey to redemption!” Charlie says, enthusiasm evident in her voice.

A sinner making progress to redemption? That’s definitely a first. If it was even true, which he doubted. Sinners are just that, sinners. No matter how hard you try, they’ll just keep tumbling back down until they’re worse than they started. Lucifer’s seen it, he’s seen it countless times. But still, everything surrounding this sinner made them seem so.. kind?

“You came back a little late, was everything ok?” Charlie asked, concern evident In her voice.

“Yeah, don’t worry! it was entirely my fault I was late.” They pause as they pull out a phone from their pocket, showing them the screen “I got distracted by this family of ducks at the pond down the street”

On the screen were five ducks swimming in a green-blue pond, two adults and three ducklings. They weren’t normal ducks of course, they were some type of hellspawn variety but still they looked as close to real ducks as they could be.

Lucifer’s eyes widened in amusement letting out a small sound involuntarily. He tried to keep his face as poised as he could but when faced with the sight of the most adorable animal to ever be created he can’t help but fawn over them.

Once you had finished showing them both the pictures and videos you took Charlie spoke up “Ok that’s great, I’m glad you didn’t encounter any trouble!” Then almost as if a light bulb lit over her head “Oh! that reminds me, I had to grab something for you Dad! I can’t believe I nearly forgot!”

Charlie quickly walks over to Y/n and tries to whisper something in their ear but he could make it out enough to get the picture “keep Dad occupied till I get back”

The sinner nods in acceptance as Charlie yells that ‘she’ll be back in a jiffy’ leaving Lucifer and The lone sinner alone together.

The silence in the air was suffocating, at least to Lucifer. He hadn't always been this awkward when it came to conversations but in recent years his social skills have made a decline. He lets out a small sigh.

“Do you also like ducks?” The sinner breaks the silence. “You seemed to enjoy the pics I took”

‘Crap… they heard me earlier?’ Lucifer thought, he clears his throat “Y-Yeah, I do enjoy them. But it’s not like an obsession or anything. Like I don’t have a… workshop full of completely unique rubber ducks I made myself haha!” His laugh went on for longer than he intended, leaving an awkward feeling in the air. Good job Lucifer… you did great.

The sinner looked at him with a look that could only be described as confusion, before they gave a sly grin at him.

“Hmm, a shame. I so happen to love guys with a workshop full of rubber ducks” they laugh. Ah, a joke, just a joke, there's no way that they could be flirting with him… right? “So I guess that makes you an exception then?” You wink at him when you finish your sentence.

Oh… oh! Yep. Definitely flirting. A sinner…was flirting with him? And the worst part? He was actually enjoying it??? He clears his throat again, the blush on his face contrasting with his pearly white skin, making it even more evident “Yes well, um… I do know a guy with a rubber duck workshop, if you’re interested, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I gave you a t-tour?” The end of his sentence didn’t come out as confident as he would have liked it, having to force the last words out.

The sinner laughs “Hmm, I wouldn’t mind taking you up on that offer.” They walk over to a small bed-side table to grab a pen and paper then began writing something before tearing the slip of paper out.

The sinner walks back to him, paper in hand. Slowly they bent down in front of him until they were now face-to-face. Lucifer gulps down nervously as they take his sweaty hand In their soft warm one. They open his palm before slipping the note and closing his hand around it. Then they move his hand to his chest before letting go.

“See ya’ around, you handsome devil”

The sinner walks away with those last words, a smirk evident on their face. Once he was sure you were gone he slowly unraveled the note you left in his hand. Carefully he reads the words on the paper

‘Tell that ‘friend’ I’d love to see his workshop ;) call me <3

( XXX-XXXX )’

You had left him your number…. Lucifer’s face felt as hot as a desert, the red from his cheeks spreading over his paper white face. Was he really going to do this? It was such a bad idea… No no, he was just doing this to get to the bottom of what’s up with their soul. Yes! That was the reason! Nothing more… Right?

[kromeihl]

Hii! Can i request a drabble of ken sato being japan’s spider man ? (Of the scenario given below)

(It’s like peter parker and gwen kinda of love, where the reader is like gwen or whatever you would like to present her c: )

That one scene where peter is injured and gwen sneaks him in her room and then tends to his wounds while peter is just downright SMITTEN and distracted like omg 😩. And then they discuss that he should stop the lizard (in this case the kaiju) etc etc. like that scene! (I hope you know this scene from the amazing spider man- 😅)

IM SO SORRY IF THIS REQUEST IS TOO LONG— i just love your work! And i got inspired to request this because of that post where you were like “omg imagine he was spider man—“

Anyways- love you lodes ! Xoxo

Omg I love the amazing spider man?! Seeing you guys request literally brings joy to my heart. 🫶🏼 Don’t apologize for a long request you can keep it coming, honey. ☺️ Reqs are always open! I’M SORRY IF IT DIDN’T TURN OUT THE WAY YOU WANTED IT TO BE😭 (Wanna read a Kenji fic on wp?👀 -> Bloop. Yes, I am promoting myself. Header by @/cafekitsune. IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANY IDEAS ON POSTING KENJI SATO IN A SPIDERMAN SUIT OR WHATEVER IN THIS STORY INSPIRED YOU TO DO IT, TAG ME RIGHT AWAY IF IT’S ON TIKTOK GAWH DAMN TAG MEMEME @kromeihl)

TRUTH BENEATH THOSE SCARS

-> SPIDERMAN!KENJI SATO X READER

WARNING(s): NOT PROOFREAD, Mentions of injuries, blood, a bit of cursing, a lil’ suggestive ;)

I type away in my laptop, finishing a project I was given, to publish soon. It was a newspaper article about Spiderman, of course. I couldn’t help but laugh silently knowing I have to act suspicious about his identity as I type down words.

I hear a loud tap coming from my window, I shook my head knowing it’s probably just some birds, continuing to type. After a few seconds a knock came back, a little louder this time.

I sigh, turning my chair to look, noticing it was him, Kenji Sato. I smile, turning my chair back as I continue to type. “The window’s open, Ken! Come in, I’m just finishing off this article.”

You hear the window open, no response from him. That was weird, he’d usually reply after you speak, cracking a joke or distracting you from your work.

“Ken?” You call out, about to look but still typing, feeling a bit weird from the silence. You hear a small thud, making you stop typing, looking at him as he struggles to sit on the couch. You notice the blood on the side of his forehead.

He could go back home to get tended but of course he chose to come to you. Is he really there for you to help him or something..More?

You quickly rush to him, hitting your leg on the chair in the process, falling on the floor. Kenji couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the pain on his chest making him wince.

“Stop laughing!” You say, embarrassed, quickly getting up to check up on him. “What happened?” You look at him worriedly, seeing the big scratch on his chest, that tore up his suit. “Kaiju attack..” He struggles to say, leaning his head back on the arm of your couch.

“Why the heck can’t you just sit properly?” You mutter, your hands shaking at the sight of his bloody injury. He chuckles, “You’re really scolding me right now? I need some help, ya know?” He teases, moving his hand to your wrist.

“I’m okay, stop shaking.” He smiles softly, earning a sigh from you as you tried to calm down. “Right.” You say, before hearing a knock from your door. I curse silently, searching for my mini refrigerator.

I quickly run to it, opening it as I grab a cold can of soda. “Here, uhm.. Maybe it’ll stop the bleeding for a while?” You panic, giving him the can of soda as he quickly moves away from the couch, hiding, just incase the person that knocked will come in.

I walk up to the door, glancing at Kenji before opening the it slightly. “Heyyyy, Ami!” Kenji furrowed his brows at your greeting, right, you were best friends with Ami Wakita, the person that interviews him way too much when he’s out with his other job, a famous baseball player.

“Chiho wants to play with y—“

“Sorry. I can’t I’m busy!” You say, slightly raising your voice, after an awkward silence, you lean your body against the door frame, one hand holding the door behind for it to stay in place.

“I mean..The project you gave me is just sooo difficult! I just need to work really hard and think. I need to publish it as soon as possible!” You say, trying to sound convincing. “I’ll play with Chiho tomorrow morning! I can babysit her, if you want.” You smile sheepishly.

Ami gives you an amused look, “Uhm, okay.. I’ll be in the kitchen. Do you wa—“ “I don’t need anything!” You quickly cut off, laughing awkwardly afterwards. “I could just bring it into your room—“ “Nope! All good, thanks Ami!” You smile, earning a nod from her.

“Uhm..No worries, [Name]. Good night.” She smiles before leaving. “Good night!” You close the door after, locking it. You glance at Kenji who was still behind the couch, now drinking the can of soda.

“Kenji!” You scold, going to him as you try to grab the soda which he swiftly moved away. “What? You gave me a soda, might as well drink it.” He shrugs, drinking the can again as you pull away.

“Seriously? Drink water!” You huff, walking to your cabinet, finding a cloth, towel, bandaid, and some ointment. “Says the one who drinks anything but water.” He retorts, sitting back on the couch improperly.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sigh, grabbing a chair as you place it in front of him, placing the things you got on your lap. You brush away his hair, holding it in place as you grabbed the wet towel and gently wiped the blood off his face. He winces from the pain, closing his eyes.

You can’t help but stare at his face, he’s incredibly handsome.. And knowing he was a famous baseball player, surely a ton of pretty girls would agree. Your train of thoughts cut off as Kenji smirks, making you realize that you’ve been staring for too long.

“Like what you see?” He teases, earning an eye roll from you. “No.” You say after, “Then you probably love it then.” He chuckles, making you deepen the towel on his head. “Owww!” He whines, grabbing your hand as he pulls you in making your upper body, lay on his chest.

“Don’t do that.” He says in a stern voice, making your cheeks heat up. “Gosh,” You clear your throat, sitting back up as Kenji moves his hand away from yours. “Come on, let’s hurry. You need to defeat that Kaiju.” You say, putting the ointment then placing a bandaid on his scar.

“Yeah. yeah.” He says, removing the upper part of his suit so you could tend his injury. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight in front of you, he slowly puts his hand on your head. “Come on, you could see more of that later.” He teased.

You slapped his hand away, grabbing the towel as you softly wipe away the blood. He sigh, feeling relief, yet pain still present as you move the towel around his bloody chest. He stares at you for a moment, your messy hair, pretty face, your hands so gentle as you help him.

“You’re gorgeous..” He mumbles, earning a glance from you, “Hm?” You say, gaze back on his wound. “N—Nothing.” He stutters, before clearing his throat. There was a peaceful silence between you, the sound of you wiping was the only noise present.

He felt his hand move towards your face as you start putting ointment on his wound, gently putting a strand of hair behind your ear. You freeze, shivering at his touch. He slowly puts his hand back, continuing to stare right at you.

You notice his longing gaze, yet continue, to finish tending his wound. After a while, you were finally done, him wearing his suit properly again. He groans, adjusting himself on the couch. You put away the things as you gave him small glances.

“Thanks, [Nickname]. You’re the best.” You felt your heart beat fast, walking back to the chair as you smile softly. “No problem, just.. Be more careful, okay? I don’t want you sneaking in my room all injured again.” You huff, earning a soft laugh from Ken.

“You should go.” You say sadly, “I don’t want to.” He declines. “You should. The city needs you.” You look away, feeling disappointed of how you were pushing him away now. “I need you.”

You felt your heart drop at his words, mouth agape as you couldn’t find words to speak. He has that signature cocky smirk of his, plastered on his face as he gently sits up, slowly moving his face towards you. You felt a hand on the back of your head as he caresses it gently.

“N—No. You need to go back to the city. The kaiju will— I mean, it might—“ You stutter feeling him slowly closing in the distance between your lips, his other hand gently placing it on your chin, his thumb brushing your bottom lip softly.

“Let the KDF handle it for a while, I need a reward for being such a great superhero. And you need one for being so good to me.” He says before closing in the gap between your lips. You melt into his touch, feeling your hand snake around his neck as he pulls you in closer.

It took a while before you both pull apart, panting for air as he moves away your hair from your face. “Bug boy” you mutter, smiling at him. “Hm?” He smirks, his arms slowly moving on the sides of your chair, leaning down as you move your body backwards.

“Pretty girl.” He smiles, making your cheeks heat up. You both hear the Kaiju screeching, making you both wince from the loud sound. Kenji groans, making you laugh. “Great timing, I was just getting started.” He sighs, standing up as he walks to the window.

“Stay safe, Spiderman.” You smile, earning a grin from him, he pecks your lips one last time. “Lucky charm.” He winks before putting on his mask, spiderweb coming out from his hand.

“I’ll be back.” You look at him surprised before he leaves, making you look at his figure, slowly disappearing into the city.

“See you, Ken.”

[fairyysoup]

matters of taste

part one (repost)

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader x eddie munson

summary: Not all trainees are great on the job. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson in a bakery, however? Absolutely unmatched.

content warnings: explicit (18+ MINORS DNI) smut, threesome - f/m/m, semi-public sex, workplace sex, car sex, handjobs, oral (f+m receiving), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, spitroast, fluids play, dumbification, praise, degradation, implied masochism, mention of housewife kink, steve harrington has a big dick, enemies to lovers-ish but they're all crazy about each other let's be real\

a/n: this is my second time trying to repost this!! let's not talk about how ugly it looks ok i think the header is implying that reader is a sentient pie and honestly... yeah

It’s… you know what. It’s whatever. It’s not a big deal. It’s fine, everything’s fine.

You pause midway through frosting some cinnamon rolls to watch one of the newbies wheeling a cart of mislabelled muffins past your decorating table. You strategically keep your voice void of inflection as you say, “Price stickers, Harrington.”

“FUCK!”

You watch Steve dramatically jostle the cart back around to wheel it toward the rack that contains the multitudes of different flavor and price stickers used in the bakery, swearing like a sailor the whole time. He collides with another cart, and slams it directly into your other trainee, Eddie Munson. 

“Shitshitshitshit shit-” Eddie curses and stumbles into a rolling rack of donuts. He grabs the rack before it can topple over, and succeeds in catching four trays of donuts when they fall out of their slots and into his arms. 

You roll your eyes at the spectacle the two of them create, which is quickly becoming the norm, and go back to stroking globs of cream cheese frosting across the cinnamon rolls in front of you. 

It’s not like they’re the world’s worst trainees or anything. It’s not like they’re completely incompetent, or that they purposefully goes out of their way to make your job unnecessarily difficult or anything. It’s not like, together, they create the most chaotic and hazardous environment possible.

No, sir. Nothing to see here. No problems to be had. 

“‘You didn’t put the price stickers on, Steve-’” you hear Steve mocking you in a purposefully insulting falsetto, and give him a side-eye that you know he can’t see. “Mehmehmeh- ‘You didn’t put the bagels in properly. You didn’t frost the bundt cakes just right.’”

“‘You didn’t circumcise the bread bags,’” Eddie adds as he shoves the trays of smushed donuts back onto the rack and grabs a rag to wipe icing from his apron.

“Fucking what?” You turn to look at them fully, holding your frosting covered hands out in front of you.

“I don’t know!” Steve whirls around to sneer at you. His bubblegum pink uniform shirt is just about the same color as his face, rosy and flushed with the heat from the ovens and probably his climbing heart rate. “Why’s everything gotta be packaged differently? It’s just bread!”

“I don’t make the rules! Don’t argue with me and just do it!” That’s another thing. Steve’s just so argumentative, about everything. How you package things, how you wash the dishes, how you clean the floors at the end of the day. Meanwhile, Eddie won’t argue with you per-se, but the day he does something correctly will be the day pigs fly. It’s the most annoying fucking thing you’ve had to deal with at this job, and you’re stuck training them. 

It’s not a particularly hard job. You’re just clerks at Mimi’s Bakery, nothing is out of the realm of doability- it’s more of a stamina sport. You’re all closers, so that means a lot of packaging and a lot of cleaning, interspersed with helping some late afternoon and evening customers, within an eight hour shift. It isn’t very busy anymore, either; summer’s over, and you still have about a month until the holiday rushes start. It shouldn’t be too terribly difficult for them, but they’ve both been here for two weeks and still act like they were born yesterday.

Steve spends an extraordinarily long time putting the price tags on the packages of muffins- and putting them on crooked, anyway, so that the entire pile looks janky and rushed despite his slow pace. Eddie’s too busy wiping chocolate icing from his arms to notice Steve’s haphazard labeling. 

Your eyes trail the wet rag that Eddie drags across his skin, leaving behind only the ink from his tattoos for you to scrutinize. During the lull, the bakery’s PA system comically offsets the tension in the room with a generic old jazz standard. Your boss, Mimi Callaghan, has an enthusiasm for novelties from her youth- hence the confectionary shop-style pink pinstriped uniform dress you wear, and your clashing forest green apron just oozing with sex appeal. Steve looks like a knockoff Ken doll in his similar blouse and khakis, but he confessed to you on his first day that he used to work at the Scoops Ahoy in the old Hawkins Mall, so you assume he isn’t too phased by it. You’re not about to tell him that he makes it work. Eddie, on the other hand, looks like someone picked him up at the Local Smokes down the street and thrust him into the uniform against his will, like he’s not really supposed to be here. You hate that you find the weird juxtaposition of his tattoos to the pink and green uniform kind of hot.

“Don’t forget to face the shelves when you put them out,” you tell Steve as he pushes the cart past you again. 

Steve’s ears glow bright red. “I’ll put out something-”

“Suck my fucking nuts, Harrington, you wanna do the job right or not?”

Eddie cackles loudly as Steve turns around, but instead of glaring at you he just looks mildly amused, like Eddie’s hysterical laughter rubbed off on him. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh?”

“What?” You splutter, gloved hands flexing in the air and squishing frosting between your fingers. “Why- why’re you so fucking difficult? Put the goddamn muffins out, we don’t have all day-”

“I think she likes you, Harrington.” 

You squint at Eddie, still rubbing himself down leisurely with the rag, twisting his rings around his fingers idly even though he didn’t even get any icing on them. He leans against the counter with a smirk on his pretty pink lips like he thinks he’s done something. Like there can’t be another reason for why you’re so easily frustrated by Steve- by either of them, really. Like their lack of decorum or work ethic are completely out of the question, you guess, to his way of thinking. 

“Like him?” you scoff, trying to appear nonchalant as you go back to smacking cream cheese frosting across the pans of pastries in front of you. “Puh- lease. He’s infuriating, he doesn't listen to directions. Also, Steve, your customer service voice? It- you know what, it’s obnoxious. We work in a bakery, you don’t have to put the moves on every girl that comes in.”

“Oh, okay. Hear me out- maybe you don’t like my customer service voice because you’re jealous.” Steve hums, rocking back on his heels and looking even more smug than he did a few seconds ago. “I can put the moves on you, too, if you’re feeling left out.”

You don’t dignify that offer with a response. You kind of just want to punch him in the face. “Go put the muffins out and let me listen to the goddamn PA in peace.”

He has the decency to look shocked. “You like this goofy old shit?”

“I love this goofy old shit, which is more than I can say about you.”

“It’s okay, sweet pea,” Eddie hums casually, in as condescending of a voice as he can muster. “You don’t have to pretend like you aren’t into Harrington. I know I am.” 

“And you, Munson-” You whirl on him, pointing one frosting covered finger angrily in his direction, at which his eyes go all wide and innocent. “Don’t even get me started. Your fucking hair gets everywhere. I swear I had to excavate an entire gerbil from the garlic bread you made yesterday. Take a fucking weedwacker to that thing, for the love of god. And… and your tattoos are fucking dumb.”

You don’t want to admit that you like the sight of the tattoos, actually. When Mimi had told you that the newbies you’d be training were gonna be “that darling Steve Harrington, and his friend, the Munson boy” you’d been a little bit pleased. There isn’t much to admire in a bakery except cakes, and if having the two of them around the bakery means things just got a little more scenic, then you were happy to have them. 

Unfortunately, a pretty face often means an infernal personality. Finding one without the other would probably take an act of god at this point. Times two, you got stuck with the fucking chaos twins.

“Dumb?” Eddie wolf whistles. “That smarts, sweetheart. It really does. You haven’t even seen all of my tattoos yet. I’d love to give you a tour of them, though-”

Your face burns at the thought of Eddie Munson letting you get a first class look at his tattoos. He probably has ones in places even god doesn’t know about, and you glare down at the cinnamon rolls in front of you to hide how flustered you are about it. “Fuck you, Munson.”

“I wish you would.”

“For christ’s sake- Steve. Muffins, now.”

Steve does what he’s told, for a change. It doesn’t give you as much of an ego boost as it usually does- really, you just feel sort of dull as you snap your rubber gloves off and throw them in the trash can to the side. You don’t know why you let them bother you as much as they do, but for some reason the just jerk your chain like nothing else.

The bell over the front door jingles, alerting you to the arrival of a customer. You take a quick peek at the ovens behind you to check the time; it’s nearly 8, and the bakery closes at 10. You fight to not roll your eyes as you grab a pair of gloves in case whoever it is wants something out of the display case. 

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Your voice is sing-songy enough that you want to smack yourself. A middle aged woman has made a bee-line for the counter, straight past where Steve is bent over a display table, struggling to shift all the old muffin boxes to the top and slide the newer ones underneath them. 

You stare at his ass for… probably way longer than necessary, honestly. 

The woman points at a singular cake box left on the counter from today’s special orders, and immediately reaches up to take it without any other introduction. 

Oh. One of these customers. The ones who come in and grab stuff off the counter without asking for assistance, who will walk back into the kitchen to look at the overstock racks and help themselves to things that haven’t been put out on the floor yet.

A tight smile curls at your lips as you snag the tag on the box and look at the name before she can yank it off the counter from you. “For Linda?”

The woman nods curtly. As you turn the box to face her, your eyes shift back to Steve as he moves around the side of the display table. He stretches his arm out to reach for a stack on a higher shelf, and your eyes linger on the way the short sleeve of his uniform shirt rides up to expose his bicep.

“This is not the cake I ordered.”

“What?” You snap your eyes back to Linda’s pinched face, glaring down at the cake on the counter. It’s a basic sheet cake, with white frosting and a screaming red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ on it. Not necessarily a masterpiece, but a neat and pretty cake nonetheless.

“I ordered a cake with a winning streak theme. This has nothing on it,” Linda says icily as you snatch up the order slip you had taken off of the box and inspect it.

“A marble quarter sheet with white buttercream and a red border, that says ‘Great Job Oscar!’ in black icing?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… what’s on the cake, ma’am.”

“But there’s no other decoration. Where’s the winning streak theme?”

You blink, and briefly make eye contact with Steve over the woman’s shoulder. He’s all but abandoned his task of stacking muffin boxes, instead watching your face carefully as your conversation plays out. He raises one eyebrow at you, and you’re not sure if that’s him trying to be condescending or supportive. 

“I- I apologize, ma’am-” you start, looking for a way to dig your way out of the situation, “The order does say that you requested the theme, but you didn’t specify any decorations. Our decorators won’t take liberties with the order on their own if you don’t request-”

“I don’t have time for this,” Linda interjects, and you clamp your mouth shut with a dull ache beginning to throb in your temples. “I’m supposed to be at a winning streak themed party in twenty minutes and I have an embarrassment of a cake to show for it. I should be reimbursed.”

“The cake wasn’t paid for in advance,” you tell her mildly, trying not to crinkle the page with her order on it as you hold it up. 

“Uh… accommodated, then. I shouldn’t have to pay for something I didn’t want in the first place!”

“I’m afraid I can’t just give you a cake for free, ma’am. I’m not authorized.”

“Can I speak to your manager, then?” 

You open your mouth to say that, technically, you are what amounts to the shift manager. It’s just you and Eddie and Steve in the store, and even though neither of your job descriptions really include the word ‘manager’ in them, seniority rules over all. You’ve been here long enough to be able to train them, so by right you’re the one in charge. 

But then a warm hand touches the curve of your lower back, and Steve appears out of thin air to gently scoot you aside without so much as a hello.

“What seems to be the trouble, ma’am?” Steve smiles, and you could almost mistake him for being sincere if his fingertips didn’t dig into your back just slightly before pulling away. 

Linda visibly softens her demeanor, smoothing her stringy blonde hair away from her face. “Are you the manager?”

You scrutinize his profile, trying for all the world to read his fucking mind, because you have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s barely even taken a cake order, let alone dealt with a disgruntled customer with a botched one.

“That, I am!” Steve declares, and oh. Cheeky motherfucker. He’s doing the voice. He bats his eyelashes- big, long, sweeping blinks that you think can make him take flight if he tries much harder. “What can I do for you?”

“This girl,” Linda tells him shortly, not even looking at you when she motions in your direction, “is refusing to compromise about this cake. It’s not what I ordered, and if I have to show up for this party without a winning streak themed cake, I’m going to be embarrassed. The customer is always right!”

“In matters of taste,” Eddie says from over your shoulder.

Linda fixes Eddie with a cold stare. “I’m sorry?”

“That, uh… that saying.” Eddie steps up to your other side, obviously choking back a laugh as he clears his throat. “The full saying is, ‘The customer is always right in matters of taste.’ Meaning you’re right about your order, we can’t argue with your personal preferences.” 

“Exactly.” Steve shrugs easily, the picture of self-assurance as he takes the order sheet from your hand and looks it over. You’re not even sure if he entirely understands how to dissect the order sheet itself, but he looks convincing enough while doing it. “If you don’t like the cake, you don’t have to buy it. But my gi- ‘ this’ girl is right.”

You snap your eyes toward Steve, the back of your neck burning. His what?

Steve continues like he’s made no mistake whatsoever. “We can’t give you the cake for free- the only person who can do that is the owner.”

Linda scowls. “‘Take it or leave it,’ you mean?”

Steve affords her a kind smile. “I’d be happy to pull any of our cakes out of the display instead, if you see any you prefer.”

“No,” Linda insists, obviously unhappy about it, “I’ve been coming here for twenty years and this has never happened, the owner knows me-”

“We can call Mimi, if you’d like,” he adds. 

“No, like I said, I have a party in twenty minutes,” Linda says sourly, and begins digging through her purse. “No, I’ll pay for this one, I guess.”

Behind the counter, you watch Steve ball up Linda’s cake order sheet in his palm, squeeze it unnecessarily hard, and toss it into the waste bin. Then, faster than fucking lightning, you watch Eddie type the price of the cake into the cash register. He hits the sales tax button twice.

“Come back soon!” Eddie says cheerfully as he hands her the receipt. 

You stand motionless behind them both, dumbfounded, until Linda leaves. And then Steve’s immediately cursing, shaking his head as he turns and starts walking toward the back room, hands untying the bow at his waist to undo his apron. “They’ll say anything for free shit. Anything. What the fuck is a ‘winning streak’ theme, anyways? I swear- no, you know what, I don’t actually fucking care. I used to give out freebies all the time at Scoops. But this isn’t corporate, and Mimi knows my family-” 

You follow him closely, disappearing into the back with him as he continues blathering. “Why did you do that?” 

“Hm?” Steve pauses as he’s pulling his apron over his head, and stares at you for a few seconds, like he doesn’t even know what you’re referring to. And then, you see his brown eyes widen. “Oh! I guess… I mean, I could see it going bad, and I figured if she wasn’t listening to you, then she’d probably listen to me. If I, y’know. Put the moves on her.”

You snort loudly. “Always so fuckin’ cute- I could have handled it myself.”

“No, I know you could have. I know.” Steve nods, his hair sort of fluttering around his face as he looks away from you. “But… y’know, you don’t have to. You shouldn’t have to, while I’m here. I’ve been tortured by KGB and fought monsters, I can deal with an angry customer-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh. Uh…” He pauses, eyes drifting off to the side, to meet Eddie’s, who trailed behind you into the back room and is lingering over your shoulder. “Dun- Dungeons and… and Dragons? Yeah… yeah! Have you- have you played it?”

“You?” Your giggle splutters loudly in your chest before bubbling up out of your throat unexpectedly. “Steve Harrington plays Dungeons and Dragons? You like that goofy sword and sorcery shit?”

“Fucking metal sword and sorcery shit, thank you very much,” Eddie snaps, and you scoff at him. 

Steve chuckles at your little jab at his words from earlier, looking anywhere but at your face. “Yeah, sort of. I mean… Munson taught me a bit about it.”

“Everything he knows.” Eddie’s grin is wide and holds an air of mystery to it, like he knows something you don’t.

“Hm. Put that on a t-shirt for me and maybe I’ll buy it.” You blush, staring at Steve’s profile as he pulls a water bottle out of the employee break cabinet and takes a long drink from it. Then, you turn to Eddie, who leans against the door jamb. “Where’d you learn that thing about ‘the customer is always right,’ anyways?”

“Hm? Oh… I used to help my uncle Wayne in his garage,” Eddie explains nonchalantly. “Learned a lot from watching him deal with customers.”

“Right,” you hum, nodding slowly, and then turn to Steve. “And you. You could get in so much fucking trouble if Mimi finds out about that whole thing. Where did you pick that up?”

“My best friend- Robin Buckley? You know her?” Steve says as he puts the bottle back in the cabinet and snaps it shut. You shake your head, and he goes on. “Yeah. She’s crazy smart. We worked together at Scoops, and Family Video. Always had a way to respond to everything, even though she’s awkward as hell. And before you ask- yes, she would have tried to put the moves on Linda, too.”

“Would she?”

“Oh yeah.” Steve grins at you fondly, making your heart stall in your chest a bit. “Every single move in the book. If you ask me, she’s better with the ladies than I am.”

You laugh, then nod your head slowly, looking him up and down. “Okay. You’re actually fucking hilarious, Harrington. Too bad I hate your guts.”

“Really? I’m moving up in the world.” Steve grunts. “There’s a fine line between love and hate, my darling dearest.”

“Is that why you almost called me ‘your girl?’”

His smirk creates cute little dimples in his cheeks. “No, I almost did that because you’re the only one who can tell me to suck on their nuts, and I’ll actually consider doing it.”

Before you can even take a moment to process that little wise-crack, Eddie’s distracting you. His hand passes through your line of vision, then comes up and presses against the front of your green apron, just against your breast. You genuinely think he’s trying to feel you up, and you snap your eyes down to find his ringed fingers scraping a giant drop of cream cheese frosting off of your chest. 

You feel your cheeks heat up. That must have come from when you were frosting the cinnamon rolls- more like smacking them around with frosting, really- and the fact that it was there the entire time Linda was here is more than humiliating. You must have looked like such an idiot, trying to conduct yourself like a manager-

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Eddie murmurs, using that same fucking condescending tone that makes your hair stand on end, before meeting your eye and sucking the glob of frosting off of his two fingers.

You get a sudden head rush, and it takes way more self restraint than it should to not audibly whimper. Oh, he really shouldn’t have done that. 

You stare at him for a long moment, your eyes flickering between his, and his fingers in between his ungodly pink lips. You… you feel like you’re fucking drowning, floundering around with your head underwater and you don’t know what to do. You snap your eyes to Steve, looking for some sort of sympathy or support, but he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, he just winks. 

No. They absolutely should not have done that.

“Fucking… fuck this. Fuck both of you- I have work to do,” you hiss, trying to skirt past buckets of frosting to get around where Eddie’s blocking the doorway, but he refuses to step aside, instead creating a one-man barricade while he snickers and continues sucking on his fingers just to rile you up even more. “Fucking move, Eddie.”

“Oh, it’s Eddie now?” He grins, obviously enjoying how much you’re struggling, with your chest pushed up against his and your arm nearly circling his waist to lever yourself against the other side of the door. 

“Fuck you,” you spit, for a lack of anything else to say. 

“For the second time, I wish you would.” Eddie raises his hand and captures your chin, tilting your head up so that you look at him, instead of over his shoulder or to the side at Steve. Your heart jumps into your throat, feeling his damp fingers on your cheek and remembering how he had been sucking on them a second ago. “Might clean out that filthy mouth of yours.”

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” You snatch Eddie by his pinstriped collar, simultaneously pulling him down to your height and also pushing him back against the wire rack of boxes along the far wall. Eddie curses, stumbling and grabbing onto your hips as if that will steady himself. His nose nudges yours from this angle, and how close you crowd up against him. “You drive me up the fucking wall, Munson. You think you can just sweet talk me like I’m some uptight customer?”

“Woah,” Steve says from behind you, but he doesn’t sound the slightest bit surprised. More amused, and intrigued. “I think you struck a nerve.” 

“Did I?” Eddie whispers, with a hint of a smirk still on his face. His dark eyes are looking directly into yours.

He doesn’t even have time to breathe before you kiss him. Desperately. Long and hard and sort of angry, open-mouthed so that you can taste the frosting still on his tongue. He makes the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard- somewhere between a sigh and a moan, as his hands come up to cup your face and pull you closer into him. His knee slotting between your legs, not pushing up but just remaining solidly there for you to lean against it. It takes an inordinate amount of strength for you not to grind yourself down onto his thigh.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Steve says calmly from just beside you. 

Eddie pulls back for air, forehead resting against yours, thumbs stroking your cheekbones in a mockery of a tender embrace. “Go on. Show Harrington how much you hate him, too.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you grumble, but your hands have better plans. One stays on Eddie’s shoulder, but the other snatches Steve by the collar and pulls him forward so that you can attack his face with the same amount of fervor. Eddie has no compunction to be gentlemanly- while Steve’s hand rests lightly on your lower back, Eddie’s creeps up underneath your skirt to give your ass a tight squeeze, pulling you forward to grind against his thigh and making you gasp against Steve’s mouth so that his tongue can lick deeper into yours.

Nothing quite prepares you for how Eddie’s voice affects you when he says, “Uh oh, Harrington. I think I was right- she likes you. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You make a short noise in your throat, your hand sliding down Steve’s chest to his waist, fingers beginning to make quick work of his fly. “Let’s- let’s just double check, huh? Make extra sure.”

“God- yeah. Yeah, okay. Just- be on the safe side.” Steve’s tongue is burning up when it touches your neck, his head nuzzling down so that he can graze your throat with his teeth. 

Eddie catches your hand before you manage to wiggle it beneath his waistband, and looks you directly in the eye just before he spits onto your palm. You whimper noisily at the feeling of it, warm and wet, dripping between your fingers while Steve licks at your neck and heat simmers under the tender skin between your thighs.

Air punches from Steve’s mouth when you work his trousers down his hips and pull his erection out of his boxers- he’s not quite pulsing and swollen yet, but your fingertips still just barely manage to meet from how thick he is. 

“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” you curse as you give him a languid stroke, feeling him shudder when you brush your thumb over his tip and then drag your hand down his length again. Eddie’s saliva helps to make the motion fluid and smooth, adding a slick sound to punctuate Steve’s loud gasp. 

“What?” Steve hisses, trying his best to appear passive, but his voice betrays him and cracks. He gazes at you a bit apprehensively, his doe eyes looking a little foggy with need as they flicker over your face and focus on your lips. 

“Nothing on earth needs to be this big.” 

Eddie’s free hand coming up to weave through Steve’s hair and jerking his head back. His teeth catch Steve’s earlobe just before he murmurs, “Told ya, big boy.” Eddie looks directly at you over Steve’s shoulder. “Harrington’s packing a fucking monster, isn’t he?”

You hum as you let your fingers drift along the length of him. Steve’s gaze suddenly turns darker, and his chuckle falls flat out of his mouth like an exclamation of awe more than anything. “Think you can take it?”

You don’t answer that. Your grip tightens just a bit and he groans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling. “Are you one of those guys that’ll come as soon as I gag?” 

“Fuck, maybe?” Steve’s hands cup the sides of your neck and trail up to cradle your head as you lower yourself in front of him. 

Eddie scoffs. “He can’t handle it worth a shit. Don’t go easy on him.”

“Then he’d better hold on to something.” You scrape your nails down his exposed thigh, reveling in the way his entire body shakes at the feeling. 

And, without any further warning, you wrap your lips around his cock. 

Steve curses, hands balling into fists just before he slams them down against the shelf he’s leaning on. Through your lashes, you watch him gasp for breath and you wonder if he’s honestly going to last long enough to fuck you properly. Not that it really matters, though, because Eddie seems like he’ll be more than happy to pick up where Steve leaves off. 

Eddie’s hand rests on the crown of your head, guiding you on Steve’s cock. His tip leaks with precum that tastes salty on your tongue when you lick at his slit, and as you take him further into your mouth, you realize just how right you were. He hits the back of your throat, making tears spring up in your eyes and a quiet moan bubble up out of your chest on its own when you choke. 

Steve just about loses his mind over it. He groans loudly, scrambling for a place to put his hands and ending up with a fistful of Eddie’s uniform shirt while he tries to compose himself. 

“Holy fuck, you look so good with your mouth full,” Steve grunts, his free hand coming up your chin as he slides his cock out of your mouth and back in again.

“I think I like her more when she can’t talk back to us,” Eddie chuckles darkly, pressing on the back of your head and making you choke again. 

Steve hisses, his fingers tightening on your cheek. “Look at me, let me see those eyes- there you go. Pretty baby.”

You whimper, letting your jaw go slack so that Steve can fuck your mouth all he wants while you try to steady yourself. You should hate it. You should hate this- you hate them both. You think. 

Wait. Do you? 

You’ve never been this needy before, but hell if your cunt isn’t just throbbing in your uncomfortably wet panties, and your nails are digging into Steve’s skin where you grip his thighs for support. If he notices any pain from it, he doesn’t say anything- just keeps giving you these erotic little gasps every time his cock nudges the back of your throat and your eyes flicker shut for a moment before he taps your cheek and makes you open them again. 

“We should do this more often,” Steve says thickly, and without thinking, you hum in agreement. You add a little resistance against Eddie’s hand on your head to regain a bit of control, letting your tongue roll against Steve’s length however you want. 

“You think she’ll give it this good if she’s getting fucked?” Eddie muses suddenly, his finger’s toying with your hair rather than guiding you anymore. 

“Fuck- only one way to find out.” Steve shakily releases the fistful he has of Eddie’s shirt, letting him slip away from his side. Eddie’s hand leaves your head, instead falling to the tie on his apron to start undoing it. 

You whine softly, shuffling up on your knees and nearly slipping when you feel Eddie’s hands flipping the skirt of your dress up, exposing you to the cool air. His large hand smooths over the hem of your underwear, then lowers to stroke the cleft of your pussy through the fabric. 

“Oh, poor thing.”  

“What is it?” Steve asks. 

“She’s soaked through these pretty panties,” Eddie coos softly as his fingers stroke back and forth over the fabric, nudging your clit with achingly gentle, indirect touches. You moan, arching your back for more. “Baby got so wet from sucking Steve’s cock, huh? Sweet little pussy needs some attention?”

“Shit. God, that’s so hot. Fuck-” Steve grabs your hair, guiding you off of his cock with a wet noise that makes Eddie’s fingers press on your clit just a little bit harder. You splutter, drool trailing from your lips and dripping down your chin as you try to catch your breath. Something you can’t quite do, because Eddie won’t stop touching you. 

Steve tilts your head up, leveraging you backwards a bit as he kneels in front of you. “You want Eddie to fuck you? Is that what you need?”

You nod, wrapping your hand around Steve’s wet cock and giving him a few slow pumps. “Yeah, I-” you hiccup when you feel Eddie’s fingers hook your panties to the side, and dip through your dripping folds, unobstructed. “Oh fuck, I want it so bad.”

“Don’t hate us so goddamn much now?” Eddie croons as he presses two fingers deep into your pussy. 

You groan and hang your head, forehead pressing up against Steve’s navel and your nails sinking into the meat of his thigh. You can feel his cock twitch in your hand, and it occurs to you that he likes that pain- or maybe he just likes holding you against him while Eddie fingerfucks you.

Steve’s fingers card through your hair tenderly. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Munson. I think she’s having trouble talking.”

“For a change.” Eddie curls his fingers, and you nearly lose your balance, thankful that you have Steve to hold you up. “So fuckin’ wet… I think I want to taste it first.”

Eddie’s fingers leave you, and you openly sob against Steve’s stomach as his grip tightens in your hair. “E-eddie…”

His two hands curl around the waistband of your panties, and rip through the fabric as though it’s only paper. “Hold her up, Steve, it sounds like she’s gonna need it.”

Steve puts his hands on your shoulders and holds you up, rocking back so that he can get a good look at your face. Eddie spreads your legs apart, and you can feel him crowding his body in between them. There’s a slight pause, and then his tongue touches you, licking a stripe of fucking fire through your cunt from behind. 

Oh shit. Holy fucking shit. It’s too good, too warm and slick when you’ve been aching for it for way too long, your clit pulsing desperately and burning hot when his tongue strokes over it. You strain up against Steve’s hands, but he keeps pushing you forward, keeping you there against Eddie’s mouth. You moan obscenely loud, your hands tearing at Steve’s shirt like it’ll somehow convince him to let you go. 

“You’re so damn pretty like this, angel,” Steve whispers, tilting your chin up when your head falls so he can keep looking at your face. He’s flushed, his lips parted and his eyes drooping and so dark that you nearly balk under his gaze.

Eddie groans in the back of his throat and finally pulls back, and you’re not sure whether to chase his mouth or to sob for relief, so you sort of do both at the same time. He plants a hand on your ass to keep you from falling backwards into him. 

“Fuck, she tastes so sweet. Here-” You feel him move, and then Steve holds up a hand to catch something that Eddie tosses to him. 

You lift your eyes and discover that Steve is holding your torn underwear. The light blue fabric looks so out of place and innocent, little pink flowers decorating the waistband. It makes it worse that he’s looking directly at you, keeping you frozen in place. He holds them up to his nose and breathes deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut just briefly before he looks at you again and drags the soaked crotch of them across his tongue. 

“Steve…” you breathe, overwhelmed by the sight of him and the sound of his groan of pleasure. You search for something to say to him, but nothing comes before you feel something hot and thick pushing into your soaking entrance. You gasp, and then claw at Steve’s thigh in lieu of something to hold onto. “Fuck, Eddie-” 

“Shouldn’t you be choking on Steve’s cock right about now?” Eddie hisses through his teeth, sounding strained and letting out a low groan to punctuate it. 

You whine, feeling unbelievably stretched and full as Eddie splits you open, but you still scramble backwards and sink your mouth onto Steve’s cock so quickly that a gasp leaps out of his chest. 

Steve punches out a little laugh, his hand twisting your hair and pushing you down until your eyes water. “So agreeable once you get your pussy filled.”

“God, she’s so tight,” Eddie grunts as he hollows out and starts thrusting, reaching deeper inside you each time. You don’t think it’s so much that you’re tight as he’s just big- you haven’t seen his cock, but you can feel it, like you haven’t fucking felt anything else before, and it’s good. You can feel every inch, every ridge, and it makes your eyes fully roll back into your skull. “Fuck, you gotta feel this-”

“Can’t. ‘M not gonna last, shit…” Steve sounds wrecked, his words coming out sharp and desperate. The hand on your head is shaking, and you’re honestly impressed he’s lasted as long as he has. “‘M gonna come down this pretty throat.”

“You hear that, sweet pea? You gonna swallow all of Steve’s cum?” Eddie’s hand weaves through your hair around Steve’s fingers, aiding in shoving your head down onto his cock. 

As if you weren’t going to, and as if he wasn’t already fucking your mouth faster than you could reasonably keep up. But you whimper and bury your nose in the patch of coarse hair at the base of Steve’s cock, inhaling his scent and tasting his musky flavor on your tongue, and you swallow around him. And then you keep swallowing, because Steve comes hard.  

He sounds absolutely gorgeous when he does it, too. If Eddie wasn’t fucking you so hard that you couldn’t stop whining, you think it would be nearly like a symphony to hear Steve reduced to quiet whimpers. By the time the hands on your head relax enough to let you off of him, though, he’s completely out of breath. 

“Good girl,” Steve pants, his hand lifting up to caress your cheek and to wipe a little dribble of his cum from the corner of your mouth, so soft that it could be construed as sweet if there wasn’t any context to it. “Fuck… you were so good.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie coos into your ear, still driving his hips into yours with such force that it’s jolting you toward Steve. “Good baby, pretty baby- takes cock like a perfect little slut.”

You groan, hanging your head and arching your back toward Eddie. You seize up, your orgasm simmering low in you like the receding tide before a fucking tsunami, and you’re almost scared of how big it feels. 

“She liked that,” Eddie chuckles darkly, bending further over you so that his breath tickles your ear. “You like it when I call you a slut, huh? Our perfect. Little. Slut.”

You open your mouth to say his name, tell him to shut up, or keep going, or anything, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. Your hand juts forward and clamps down like a vise onto Steve’s thigh, finding that he’s pulled his pants up. Your nails scratch at stiff khaki twill, trying to beg him to take pity on you, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. 

“Pick her up,” Steve says above you. “I want to see her face when she comes.”

Oh, so he’s trying to kill you, actually. That tracks.

Eddie’s arm snakes around your waist and hauls you up, and he rocks back onto his heels to pull your back against his chest. He hugs you close to him, shushing you when his cock hits you from a different angle and you cry out sharply from the feeling. 

“Pretty thing can’t take it,” Steve murmurs as he crowds in close, his hands coming up to caress you through your dress. The fabric is too goddamn rough and itchy, and your skin is too sensitive for him to be toying with you now. 

“Oh, she can take it.” Eddie sounds so sure, his voice rough and stony as he rocks his pelvis up against you while, at the same time, pulling you down into his lap. “She can take all of it. Can’t you, baby?”

You hope the question is rhetorical. You’re trembling, too lost in the feeling of the mind-numbing bliss Eddie’s giving you to come up with a response at this point. Your hand plunges back over your shoulder into a mess of curly hair, and you feel him turn his head to brush his lips against your ear. 

Steve’s hand brushes up your thigh, creeping under your skirt that’s draped across both you and Eddie’s knees. You barely have time to pick your head up and intellectualize what he’s doing before his thumb touches your clit. 

“Oh fuck-” Eddie chokes out urgently, just at the same time as you sink your nails into his forearm and all of your floor muscles lock down around him. 

And then the tsunami hits. 

You nearly scream, your cunt tightening up to wring everything out of the sensation that it can. Eddie’s cock is so hard and it hits inside you so perfectly every time that you swear you’re going to die from it. You’re collapsing forward, despite Eddie’s grip on your waist and Steve’s solid chest creating a barrier for you to fall into- your limbs feel liquid, all your muscles finally relaxing all at once. 

You feel Eddie falter, his hand slipping on your waist so that you do fall into Steve’s chest. While Eddie’s cock throbs inside you and his moans fill your ears, Steve’s hands cup your face and tilt your head up toward his. And then his lips are on yours, and his tongue is licking deep into your mouth at the same time as you feel Eddie come deep inside your cunt. 

You don’t want Eddie to pull out. Not really. You’re not going to tell him to stay there inside you while you’re both crouched awkwardly on the hard floor, but you do wish he’d take at least a few seconds before he does, because the aching emptiness he leaves in his place is enough to make tears spring up in your eyes. 

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, you did so well,” Eddie whispers as you sob openly from the sensation, his arm coming back around your waist to pull you against him. And then you both sort of topple backwards, his shoulders hitting the stacks of backstock frosting buckets as Steve shuffles back to lean against the wire rack across from you. He pulls your legs into his lap and starts stroking his hand across your bare calf. 

You try to catch your breath while Eddie reaches for something on the floor off to the side. You blink your eyes open to find him fiddling with his discarded green apron, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pocket in it before wadding it up into a little ball. 

He promptly tucks it between your legs and starts cleaning you up with it. 

“R’you using your apron… as a cum rag?” You slur tiredly at him, squeaking a little as the rough fabric scrapes across your overly sensitive clit. 

“Don’t want to leave a mess,” he mutters easily, making Steve chuckle across from you. “Why s’it that I can fuck you half out of your mind and you’ll still bitch me out about how I clean shit?”

“‘Cause it’s fun t’see you all mad. You’re pretty when you’re pissy.” You feel his chest shake with laughter as he finishes wiping you down and tosses the apron aside, then wraps his arms snugly around your middle. 

“Good thing you’re pretty all the time, then.” Eddie huffs, rocking you back and forth a little as he fits his head on your shoulder. You tap your fingers across his forearm, looking down at them and humming contentedly. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, smiling at you almost fondly. 

You sigh, dragging your fingertip along Eddie’s skin. “I like his tattoos.”

“I knew it,” Eddie whispers, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, making you giggle and shut your eyes. “I still haven’t shown you the rest of ‘em.”

“There’s always next time.”

Steve blinks. “You want to do this again?”

“Of course I want to fucking do this again, Steve,” you snap, rolling your eyes playflully. “Been wanting to jump both of you since you started, wasn’t it fucking obvious?”

“Was to me.” Eddie’s finger traces along your collar, toying with the first button on the front of your uniform dress. “Also, I haven’t seen your tits, so. I’m not done with you yet.”

“I dunno, the dress kind of does it for me,” Steve admits, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s, uh… cute. Like a 50s housewife or something.”

“Let’s get you a string of pearls and see how long ‘Big Dick’ Harrington lasts then,” Eddie snickers, and you laugh tiredly as you watch Steve flush. 

You fall into easy silence, but just as soon as you relax into Eddie’s arms, the bell over the front door of the bakery jingles. And then the hand bell on the front counter dings loudly. 

And dings again. And dings again. And dings agai-

“You gonna get it, this time?” Steve asks Eddie, sounding a little bit grumpy already. 

“No, I’m gonna hold her a while longer,” Eddie says coolly, not leaving any room for discussion. He presses a tiny kiss to your neck, just underneath your ear, and you squeak in surprise at the lightness of it. “Go get ‘em, Mr. Manager Man.”

“Fuckin’-” Steve rolls his eyes as he gently sets your legs aside before gracelessly clambering up off the ground. He smooths out his uniform, tucking in the tail of his shirt before striding through the door into the kitchen. “What’s up, party people?”

“Do you have any chocolate cakes with white buttercream already made? I need it for tonight.”

Eddie scoffs in your ear, his hand drifting across your thigh to rest just shy of your pussy, making your breath hitch and your hips cant up toward his touch. “They always wait for the last fuckin’ minute, don’t they?”

[mikashisus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT?

summary: a year after your terrible breakup with alhaitham, you decide to make the awful decision of hooking up with your ex again. after many failed attempts, you gave up on dating entirely and allowed for a strict “just benefits” relationship with alhaitham. however, you soon realized this was a disastrous mistake, as the rules you set in place came crashing down one by one…

pairing: alhaitham x fem!reader

content warnings: angst, drinking, innuendos, kys/kms jokes, toxicity, slut shaming, cyberbullying — (more added later if needed).

other disclaimers: MDNI. smau, uni au, mc is kind of a bitch!, totally not me projecting my autistic relationship struggles onto alhaitham haha… ; loud and quiet trope, all pictures used are placeholders only and are not meant to dictate the mc’s race or appearance.

🌷 — profiles ;

chappell roan fanclub | big time rush

ACT ONE. bad idea right?

01. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 02. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 03. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 04. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 05.

06. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 07. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 08. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 09. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 10.

ACT TWO. hot to go!

11. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 12. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 13. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 14. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 15.

16. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 17. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 18. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 19. ⠀⠀⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏⠀ 20.

notes: header made by yours truly <3 it took so long for me to make bc i kept being nitpicky about which fonts to use and where to place things. it turned out great in the end me thinks! this series is upcoming, so pls be patient while i work on the first 3 chapters. if u’d like to join my disc server to chat and hangout, u can do so here!

taglist — open ; (i will only add u if u have ur age visible on ur acc where i can see it. minors who interact will be blocked.) @nrviine @winterpein @arraxthatsonjah @peaches-are-sweet @3cst4syy

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[thenameswinterfics]

CAOINEADH

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Banshee!Reader Settings: Season 2, brief mention of moments from S3 to SKMD Summary: While wandering outside Dunholm with his mother, Sihtric is visited by a creature whose presence brings terrible news to his family. Years later, the Banshee returns to the mortal lands and Sihtric, now grown up and in the service of Uhtred, faces the consequences of a bad omen. But the tragedy also brings them closer together. Word Count: 5,2 K Warnings: Angst, mention of blood, mention of death, mention of main character death(s), human/monster romance, hopeful ending? , me writing Finan's Irish accent. A/N: After a long time, I'm back to writing for my favourite Dane rat boy. I'd somehow forgotten how much I loved and enjoyed writing for him, especially after a period of putting him aside for a while. This feels like I'm republishing a fic of his for the very first time, so I'm terribly nervous. I hope you like and enjoy it. If you find the ending a bit rushed, I'm sorry. I finished it while it was late at night in my timezone, and everything will be fixed eventually when I'm awake and more aware of my actions. Many thanks to @foxyanon , @legitalicat and @zaldritzosrose for helping me with the Banshee lore, for writing Finan's accent, for the emotional support, for the beta reading and last minute corrections, and to @sylasthegrim for the early beta reading and emotional support as well.

This fic is my entry and first submission to the Fan-Frankentober event, organized by @fandomeventcenter. Here the masterlist to take a look at the other works.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header by me (template by @zaldritzosrose) Dividers by me and @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3 (COMING SOON)

Caoineadh: Irish and Scottish Gaelic pronunciation of "keening" (to cry, to weep); traditional form of the vocal lament for the dead in the Gaelic tradition.

By the time Sihtric stopped running, he had no more memory of the place he was in.

His hands, clenched into small fists, rubbed his tired eyes as he tried to scan the surroundings, looking for any detail that might help him orientate himself in the unknown space. He could not recognize the long tree trunks rising from the ground, their dry branches seeming to touch the twilight sky as he watched the sun's rays filter through the few remaining canopies. 

The place was eerily quiet, the sound of the wind blowing and moving the branches and leaves on the ground the only sound to break the surreal yet disturbing atmosphere. He felt a shiver run down his spine and the little Dane suddenly hugged his shoulder, as if to hide his head between them like a turtle. 

It was one of the few times he and his mother had left the strong walls of Dunholm together, Sihtric enjoying the fresh air of the forest while Elflaed was busy gathering flowers and herbs that he had little interest in. Sometimes his curiosity would get the better of him, his big, mismatched eyes fixed on Elflaed's wooden basket and how many herbs she had managed to gather. When his mother felt his eyes on her, she would patiently stop picking and crouch down beside him, patiently explaining what she was doing as she wrapped his small body around her, only to see her son wriggle out of her embrace soon after and play with small sticks nearby. 

Sihtric was usually a quiet and obedient child: when his mother asked him to stay close to her, he obeyed without a fuss. That day, however, something caught his attention, a heartbreaking wail that filled his ears and shook his heart: it was a gentle but sad song that carried pain and sorrow, hiding a sense of concern and care towards to whom it was addressed. Armed only with a small stick and with curiosity teasing him, Sihtric dared to disobey his mother for the first time, and entered into the woods while leaving his mother behind.

And there he was, lost in an unfamiliar place, with nothing to defend himself but a small stick. He was too young to call himself a warrior, barely able to hold a knife, let alone wield a sword that was too heavy for his tiny hands and a shield properly. Hiding and fleeing was the only option he could take in case of real danger, for he had spent his whole life hiding from the wrath of his cruel father; but the surroundings would make the task impossible, as the tall and twisted trees casted long shadows, and the undergrowth cracked with every step he could take.

Suddenly, the silence of the forest was broken by the same sorrowful chant that dragged him in the deep of the woods. Holding his wooden stick in his hands, Sihtric moved carefully in the direction of the voice, trying not to make noise while the ground cracked beneath his feet. 

The walk was short, and he found himself in front of a small lake he had never seen before. Squatting on the bank was a young lady in a blue gown, her black hair cascading down her shoulders like pitch-black watercourses, giving the little boy her back as she continued to sing her lament. Sihtric could hardly understand what she was doing, her head almost hidden beneath her shoulders, her hands working frantically to move the water in small ripples.

Holding his breath and trying to be as quiet as a mouse, Sihtric crept up behind her, lifting his small head and trying to find the right angle where he could see what she was doing underwater. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, fear and anticipation creeping into his bones as he felt the keening close to him, the chanting drawing him in even if he couldn't understand it. But as he crept closer, something beneath his boots cracked softly, and the sound was enough to make the lady turn and show her face to the boy.

It was the first time he met you. 

Sihtric watched with frightened eyes as your icy blue gaze locked on his and a low hiss escaped your mouth, your pale complexion adorned by scarlet tears rolling down your eyes. Behind you, piles of clothes lay scattered on the grass, others dripping in the water that had lost its transparency and had become muddy with blood. 

The little Dane found the strength to stand up and try to run away, but he soon fell, tripping over a stone behind him. Your ghostly presence, now calmed down after the initial fright, lightly approached him and crouched down. One of your slender hands rested on his cheek, your touch as cold as the death itself. But the words that came out from your lips were way colder, breaking the silence with your voice as soft as the silk but sharp as a piece of glass. 

“She cannot escape to the Other World.”

“She?” “Escape from what?” “What is the Other World she is talking about?” These were the words that filled the boy's mind, filled with nothing but fear and the coldness of your touch. But soon Sihtric's tiny body was enveloped in a familiar warmth, and two arms lifted him from the floor. It was only when warm, trembling lips were pressed to his forehead that he recognised the touch of his mother, who had searched for him after losing sight of him.

“Sihtric!” Elflaed cried while holding her son close to her. “Why were you here all alone? I told you never to leave my side, never! Oh, my sweet boy!” 

The young Dane watched as he silently pointed to the spot where you appeared before him, but a cold realisation hit him as you were no longer there, gone like ashes in the wind.

Sihtric did not answer, too lost in his mother's warmth and love, and the bad omen you gave him still shook him to the core. He clung to her presence, and each time your words echoed in his mind, he sought comfort in his mother's presence, even when they left the forest and the warmth of her small hut welcomed them.

But a few days later, the opening of the Other World shook nature and its creatures. And his mother's soul was claimed after a long agony.

Standing outside Eoferwic, you looked up at the walls that surrounded the town, admiring the mix of Roman, Danish and Saxon architecture that was unfamiliar to you: you were there when the Romans laid the foundation stone on the ground, and the same souls were the first you guided to the Other World, announcing the sad event in the form of a manifestation to the families you watched over. 

And you were called to do your duty again: to find the same boy you met years ago, to tell him that more of his family's souls will be claimed in the days to come. They will not be gentle and innocent like those of his mother and grandparents you guided through the other world: they were violent, reckless, stained with blood’s innocents and sins far from forgotten. But it was up to the god or gods to decide where their souls would go in the afterlife. 

Your pale eyes scanned the area, and when you found a small stream where you could wash the dirty clothes you were carrying, you walked over and dipped your hands into the cold water. You watched as your fingers swirled around the cloth and the water lost its translucency, a faint reddish tinge staining it.

The night was still, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees, lightly caressing your raven locks. You continued to scrub the clothes in the water as your wailing began, your lament filling the air and mingling with the sound of the rushing water as your eyes watered and scarlet tears rolled down your white face. 

As on that night, something soft cracked on the ground and your wailing stopped. You lifted yourself from the ground and turned towards the sound, and soon found yourself crouched beside a young man, probably trying to sneak up on you without attracting attention. 

He was a handsome man, the most beautiful your eternal eyes could ever have seen; his features sharp, his fair skin adorned with a few scars on his forehead, eyebrow and cheekbone, a knotted tattoo crossing part of his head, his dark hair cut at the sides and combed into three plaits and knotted at the back. These were features that were strangely familiar to you, your mind trying to remember when was the last time you saw him. 

But it was his eyes that captured you the most. There was pain, melancholy and innocence in them - the same light you had found in the bicoloured eyes of the little Danish boy you had reached outside Dunholm. You felt a sudden flicker of recognition, your eyes widening slightly as you recognised that lost and frightened boy in the man he had become. The years had moulded him into a skilled warrior, but the softness of his eyes remained unchanged, you noted. 

You chose a cautious approach, slowly closing the distance between you. You noticed his body trembling and his jaw clenching, his muscles not moving from where he was: it was still unclear to you whether he wasn't moving out of fear or anticipation.

“It has been a long time, sweet boy,” you broke the silence, using the same nickname you had heard his mother call him. Sihtric stood frozen, partly enchanted by your ethereal appearance and your voice, as melodious as the birdsong at sunrise.  

His eyebrows furrowed and his expression changed from alienation to curiosity: your figure was too familiar to him, but he could not remember where he had first met you.

 “Do… Do I know you, lady?” the Dane asked, holding his breath as the silent nod of your head answered his question. 

You took a long pause before answering him, "You do, in a way," you said in a soft voice that carried the weight of your grief. You took a step closer, noticing that the Dane was shifting his incongruous gaze slightly away from you, "But I have known you since you were a little boy playing spy in the deep forest.”

One of your hands reached out and rested on his cheek, the cold touch awakening something in Sihtric that he thought he had buried deep in his heart. He remembered your figure knelt near the lake shore, your icy blue gaze that penetrated deep into his soul, the cryptic prophecy you had given him but he was too young to understand.And then he remembers the mother he lost, and how it was one of the last nights they wandered the Dunholm woods together, and how after her death the Dane desperately tried to find you to explain, but you never showed again.

Instinctively, one of his calloused hands reached for yours, shivering at the cold of your pale skin. But he never pulled you away: instead, he leaned against you, finding the softness of your touch endearing.

“I remember your touch,” he murmured shyly, lowering his gaze as it briefly met yours, fascinated by your pale eyes, “It was you, all this time,” he continued, earning your satisfied hum.

“It is your family that forged our bond,” you announced with a solemn tone, absently doing circles on his skin with your thumb, “It was your mother’s souls that bound you to me.”

The mention of his mother made Sihtric snap back to reality, and pain filled again his mismatched eyes, “My mother’s soul?” he repeated in a whisper, a slight trembling could be heard in his voice, “What did you do to her? Why didn’t you save her?” 

His voice broke down when he asked his final question, and the red tears rolled down your cheeks furiously “Why did you take her away from me?” 

“It is not me who willingly chose to wrestle your mother from your arms,” you murmured softly, your other hand resting on his other cheek, cupping his face completely. Your thumbs gently wiped away his tears, and you could hear him draw in a sharp breath. Under the moonlight, you could see a faint blush in his cheeks.

“It is fate that foretells a mortal's permanence in this world and how their entry into the Other World will come about,” you explained carefully, as if you were talking with a child. “It is my duty to show myself to you and to guide you through the painful parts of death. Your pain is my own burning.” 

An uncomfortable silence fell over you, the weight of your words making it almost impossible for you both to speak. Finally, you summoned the courage to speak again, and your next words sent shivers down his spine. 

“The Other World is shaking, more souls from your family should be claimed,” You solemnly stated, and your words brought a sense of uneasiness and confusion in Sihtric. 

“Lady,” The Dane lowered his gaze, his cheeks burning at the sight of you, his body trembling at the surreality of the information he was receiving that night, “I have no family left outside my mother and my grandparents,”

You chuckled softly and shook your head, amused at his naivety, "Even if they neglect you, there are still ties of blood that fate will sever."

Sihtric clenched his jaw, his gaze darkening at the memory of a father who neglected you and looked at you with disgust only because he was guilty of being born a bastard, and of his half-brother who always looked at him with the same disgust for their father. The news of their imminent deaths brought him an unexpected sense of peace, and the chains of his tortured past will be broken forever: but he would fear how their deaths would affect him, when the damage they had done was far from repaired, and the memories of his past would knock furiously at his door, reminding him that no matter how hard he worked to forge his own path, he would forever be marked as a slave.

The Dane was about to open his mouth to reply to your words when a loud, rough voice called him out from a distance. 

“Sihtric! Come back here, yer little runt!” Finan’s voice brought him back to reality, forcing the Dane to shift his gaze and look at him. 

“I am coming, Finan!” Sihtric replied to him as quickly as he could, so that he could face you and ask you about the fate of Kjartan and Sven in death.

But when he turned his eyes again, you were gone. And a sudden emptiness filled his heart and saddened his soul.

Later in the evening, the atmosphere within the walls of Eoferwich was playful and joyful. Warriors gathered around small tables outside, filling their stomachs with food and ale while telling stories of women, successful raids, or simply myths and legends from their homelands. 

Sihtric's mind was elsewhere that night. It was common for the warriors who shared a seat at his table to see the young Dane so shy and taciturn, a pattern they justified from his earlier days as a slave in Dunholm, his eyes darting around while his body tensed at the proximity of the too many people in front of him.

But this time it wasn't the echo of his past that tormented him: it was you, your stunning, ghostly presence and melodious voice had bewitched him and altered all his senses. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, for he had seen you when he was a little boy, unaware that his world was about to collapse upon him and that he would have to rebuild it all by himself. Now that he was a young man and more aware of his own feelings and the world around him, it felt like a string pulling him towards you, longing for your touch and the way you spoke of destiny and its inexorable flow. And the mystery surrounding your figure made you even more desirable in his eyes, and he often wondered if he was facing a goddess herself.

Sihtric's thoughts about your figure were suddenly interrupted by Finan's speeches about his homeland, Ireland, its customs and its most famous legends. One in particular caught the Dane's attention, and he shifted his gaze from his reflection in the mug to the Irishman.

“I told yer tha these creatures ain’t nothin’ but an omen of death!” Finan spoke with such emphasis, looking at Clapa and the few men at the table listening to him. When he felt Sihtric's gaze resting on him, he continued his story. “Legends say they’ll appear in front of yer, sometimes washing bloodied clothes, and they’ll cryin’ and wailin’ somethin’ terrible tha will hit ya family.”

Sihtric listened intently to Finan's words and felt his hand tremble as he gripped his mug of ale. He felt all the dots connect at once, especially when he saw you washing dirty clothes and singing a mournful chant, your wailing so tearful that it filled the listener's heart with sadness. He also remembered facing you twice and seeing the tears of blood leave your eyes. 

There were no creatures like you in the Norse legends and beliefs, and Sihtric wondered how a creature from a different faith could become the spirit guardian of his family.

“I found a beautiful lady washing a pile of clothes not so far from here,” The Dane murmured against his will and soon the animated atmosphere died down and he shrugged as he felt all eyes on him. His mismatched eyes found the Irishman's brown ones and with a slight nod he silently ordered him to continue.

“She was singing something,” Sihtric continued, his voice faltering slightly as he could feel the intensities of their gaze on him, “It was a lament, something so heartbreaking that it chills the blood in your veins.”

His gaze rested on Finan while he spoke his last words, “She brushed my skin and was cold at the touch. And then she was looking at me with her pale eyes, crying blood-“

“Cryin’ blood, yer said?” the Irishman asked in an urgent tone, and Sihtric nodded his head. Then he reached for the Dane's shoulder and squeezed, but not too hard: Finan knew what the wrong touch could do to a former slave, especially one as young as Sihtric.

“That woman you claimed to have seen before… Did ya know what a Banshee is?” Finan asked Sihtric, and received a shake of head as an answer. The Irishman sighed quietly, and leaned his face close to the Dane. 

“Tha’s the spirit I was talkin’ about before. They’re bound at yer family and they’ll come wailin’ and cryin’ blood while announcin’ the death of yer loved ones. She can be either a gorgeous woman or a vindictive old witch. Tha’s someone ain’t to be trifled with, remember this.”

Sihtric gulped at Finan's description of the Banshee, which was nothing like what you really were. You were so gentle with him, taking care of his pain and not putting the burden of grief on his shoulders. How could such a sweet creature as you be the dangerous spirit that Finan described earlier?

“She treated me with nothing but kindness, Finan,” the Dane replied almost innocently, and the Irishman grinned at his words. 

“Then ya were a lucky bastard!” he retorted in an ironic tone, gently slapping Sihtric’s cheek and returning to his seat. 

The conversations continued with more stories of the Banshees and Irish legends until Uhtred broke the mood by calling for Sihtric, who obediently rose and reached for his Lord. And after preparing the final strategies of war, everyone fell asleep, thinking of the battle they would face at Dunholm and how you would draw the veil of death over their heads.

After a day of celebration, Sihtric found an opportunity to sneak out of Dunholm fortress through the small door in the east wall used by the servants. He followed the small watercourse that flowed into the forest entrance and, armed with his sword and dagger, he walked into the heart of the forest, his movements light as a feather to avoid any upcoming dangers.

Once again, the prophecy you told him about your family proved true, and on the day of the battle both Kjartan and Sven were killed, their souls taken by you and sent to the afterlife. While the event lifted a great weight from Sihtric's shoulders, free at last to forge his own destiny without the cruel shadow of his father tormenting him, he wondered if you knew the difference between your afterlife and his, and if his father's soul did not rest beside Elflaed's. The image of Kjartan distressing his mother even in the afterlife made his heart skip a few beats: he would rather accept slavery under the cruel Lord of Dunholm than see his mother tormented in heaven, having found the peace she never had in life.

Finding you would be the only way for him to be reassured and to have the answers he wanted. But finding you would also mean surrendering to your cold touch, losing himself in your lifeless eyes that stirred emotions he could not believe he was feeling. Finan had warned him to be wary of spirits like you, but you were nothing more than a comforting presence at his side, a guardian who would watch over him even if he could not feel you.

Fortunately, Sihtric found the little spot where he had found the two of you the first time, remembering the details of the foliage and surrounding vegetation. And there you were, sitting near the shore, gazing out at the shimmering water, your presence quiet and not filled with your lamentations. When you appeared, Sihtric noticed how your pale face was cleared by your scarlet tears and held his breath at how even more beautiful you were without crying, the pale rays of the moon caressing your skin.

"You came," you said with a gentle smile as you stood up and approached him.

"I thought I would find you here, lady," Sihtric replied sheepishly, his cheeks turning red as he saw you closing the distance between us. He swore he had never seen such a beautiful creature as you. 

"I realised I never asked what your name was," the Dane continued, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. 

“Names are not important for eternal creatures like us,” you explained while you cupped your cheek in your hand, brushing his skin with your slender fingers, “you do not need to know my name to feel close to me. I will always watch over you, Sihtric.”

“I refuse to believe a creature as beautiful as yours is deprived of a name that does her justice,” Sihtric replied, closing his eyes while abandoning himself to your touch, ignoring the lump that was forming in your throat. 

You could not remember what your real name was, for you had forgotten it when death took you in its arms. You did not remember your former life as a young woman full of hopes and dreams, and how a violent death, coming from those closest to you, extinguished your light forever.

Ignoring all your thoughts, you shook your head and looked at Sihtric, who covered your hand with his calloused one and pressed his lips to your palm, feeling the coldness of your skin against his. It was a small gesture of affection that set a heart beating that you had forgotten you had, for it beat only with sorrow and grief.

"You claimed the souls of my father and half-brother today," it was Sihtric's turn to break the silence, wrapping his strong arms around your slender waist and pulling you close. Even though you were a ghost, you looked so real in his eyes and he was content to touch you and cradle your form.

"The doors of the Other World have indeed been opened to them," you replied, almost lost in his touch, "but for them there is another path to take, one filled with eternal pain and damnation."

The sight of his body tensing at your words saddened you, so you spoke quickly to reassure him, "Your mother and father have taken different paths in the afterlife. They will never meet again.” 

Sihtric felt another burden lifted from his shoulders, and his body suddenly became light: he was glad to see that his dear mother's soul was enveloped in the eternal light of beatification, while his father was probably rotting in the depths of Niflheim, surrounded by cold and darkness, for he died without a weapon in his hands. But even if he had gripped his sword tightly with his last breath, Sihtric did not believe that Odin would open the gates of Valhalla for him.

“Thank you,” the Dane whispered softly, giving you the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen while watching him growing up. His bicolored eyes shone with a renewed life, tasting that freedom he thought he could never have in his life. 

But a new realisation hit him hard, and the light in his eyes was replaced by a look of suffering: your duties were done, and you would return to the veil that separates the living from the dead, and watch over him silently but without concealment. He was not ready to say goodbye to you, not after he had found a person who would treat you with kindness and make his heart beat faster, it mattered not if that person was a creature from the afterlife or not.

“Do not go, please,” Sihtric pleaded in a feeble voice, his jaw clenching as well as the grip he had on you, afraid that you might vanish at any moment. He moved your body close to his own, resting his warm forehead on your cold one.

“I have to, Sihtric,” you explained quietly, though you felt your eyes burning and your scarlet tears about to escape. “I am bound to the spirit world, preparing families for their upcoming deaths. You are a young warrior, with life burning inside you.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the warmth his living body is giving to you, a warmth you used to radiate as well. And when you felt a rivulet of blood escaping from your eyes, Sihtric’s arms were quickly cupping your cheeks, wiping them with his tattooed fingers. 

"One day, when the doors of the Other World open again and the veil between our worlds forms its rift, they will give me the call to take you, and only there will you be mine forever," you added, the words slipping easily from your tongue as you lifted your gaze and locked it in his eyes. You have never had anyone look at you with love in their eyes, not even in your previous mortal life. Sihtric was sent to you to show you that a damned spirit like you could be loved and deserve to be loved. But he was the right person at the wrong time. 

“Promise you will live and wait for me until your hour will come.”

Sihtric took his time to calm down, closing his eyes and breathing slowly to calm the tears that were about to fall and to suppress the pain inside him. He thought he had found the right person to spend the rest of his life with, to take you as his wife and build a family with you. But he had to face the cold truth that you were not a living being and that you would soon have to leave his side.

The Dane opened his watery eyes again and looked at you with burning desire as he gently lifted your head with his hands. "I promise I will wait for you, my love," he swore, clutching his Thor's hammer with one hand, "and when that day comes and death takes him, I will be ready to go. And there I will be yours forever."

You both raised your faces to each other like a magnet drawing you close, sealing your eternal promise with a kiss that poured out all the love you both had carved out of each other, but that your time had not yet allowed. And when you reluctantly broke the kiss, you slowly turned and walked towards the small lake, your body disappearing into a cloud of mist that slowly dissipated into the air, the sound of a bird flapping its wings in the distance. Sihtric watched your disappearance with pain in his heart and watched over the lake until morning, when he returned to Dunholm to be reunited with Uhtred and the others.

Over the years, Sihtric had kept his promise and lived a true warrior's life, the once shy boy growing into a skilled warrior and confident man. He became one of Uhtred's most trusted allies and closest friends, and together with Finan and Osferth they wandered the borders of Mercia and Wessex, the Danelaw and East Anglia, eventually reclaiming Bebbanburg for Uhtred, who reclaimed his birthright and became its lord.

Feeling that you were always watching over him, you only appeared sporadically to bring him and his band of friends bad news: it was your job to inform him of the impending deaths of Gisela and Thyra while he was at Coccham, to warn him of Father Beocca's death before their first attempt on Bebbanburg fortress, and to claim Osferth's soul at Rumcofa. Uhtred was next, succumbing after a long and arduous battle, followed soon after by Finan, too old to even stand properly on his feet.

You were at his side, emptying his heart of grief as his mouth claimed yours in fleeting kisses before you went back to hide in the veil. You watched Sihtric grow old over the years, loving every single wrinkle on his face and every white hair that appeared over the years, while to him you were always the same young woman he fell in love with when he was a young and inexperienced lad.

And when he grew old and grey, surrounded by nothing but the walls of Dunholm, of which he had become lord, he felt the doors of the Other World open and a bird flap its wings, followed by the sound of a gash. With dying eyes and a tired smile, he watched you keep your own promise and claim his soul as he breathed his last, and feeling his body rejuvenated by the effects of eternal life, he took you by the hand as you reached the gates of the Other World, and with a long, desperate kiss, you sealed your eternal life together, and your souls at last lived and rested in peace.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.

Sihtric Kjartansson Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm @sihtricsafin @arcielee

@volklana @gemini-mama @ladyinred2248

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 1 (Strangers In The Night)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N

wc: 2,222

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

A/N: can't believe this is the product of covid-induced hcs and thots between me and @mrs-lockley, thank you so much for encouraging this buddy (also @lunar-ghoulie if i had a nickel for each time you've sent an ask/dm about a WIP and it ended up being where i put all my energy, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's hilarious that it's happened twice).

----------

On nights like tonight, Jake Lockley regrets his choice of profession.

It’s a dreary November evening, darkening by the second as the New York streets grow damp and cold. The wise had decided not to venture out; the blindsided rush across slick pavement to whatever shelter they can find. The desperate stay on the clock and curse their luck.

He should know by now that when a client says they’ll be “just a minute,” it’s a boldfaced lie: even if they have every intention of being efficient, he’s been stranded on the curb more times than he can count.

So he keeps the meter running. He’s seen the duds his regular client has on each week; the man could afford to fork over a few extra bucks. Might even build character.

The steady rhythm of the rain had been fine at first, but after half an hour parked beneath the neon sign of The Paper Moon– hat, coat and gloves doing nothing to ward off the chill creeping into his cab– every raindrop taunts him in his isolation.

To hell with this.

He shuts off the engine, pops his collar, and braces himself before stepping out onto the street. The rain falls fast and hard, so he rushes toward the brick exterior of The Paper Moon. He’s never been inside, but the glowing crescent of the sign had piqued his interest the first time he’d dropped his client here. He may as well see what all the fuss is about.

The doorman– a tall, dapperly dressed unit with a neutral grimace– casts a wary look his way. Jake ducks into the alley beside the building. Guess it’s exclusive.

Through the rain he spots a side door with a meagerly covered stoop, upon which is hunched a smaller, yet equally well-dressed figure. The young man’s tawny complexion pops against the emerald green of his just-too-big blazer, mist gathering in the dark brown waves slicked back from his creased brow. He grips a cigarette between clenched teeth, stuttering curses around it as he strikes a flimsy matchbook to no avail.

“¿Necesitas un fuego?”

At his offer, Jake is met by startled, impossibly wide brown eyes. The shock turns to glee as his face breaks into a toothy smile.

“Sí– sí sería genial, señor.” He makes room on the stoop, his dimpled cheeks betraying his youth. Jake pulls out a lighter and deftly lights the end of his cigarette, earning another dimpled grin after a few christening puffs. “Muchísimas gracias.” 

“No hay problema.” 

He lights one of his own, the smoke mixing with the fog of his breath as he holds out his free hand. “Jake.”

“Mauricio.” His newfound companion grips his hand and shakes vigorously. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, their subtle exhalations and the slowing rain the only sounds between them.

The mood is disrupted by shouting from the other side of the door, followed by clattering and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. The door behind them flies open and a lanky, dark skinned man in a matching green blazer pokes his head outside.

“You’d better get your tail in here, Maurie. She’s in one of her moods tonight.” 

“Rats, alright,” he groans, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out with his heel. Mauricio straightens his blazer and pushes a hand through his hair. He pauses at the door and looks back at Jake. 

“Do you wanna come inside, dry off for a spell? We put on a mean show,” he swears. The kid's face isn't one Jake imagines people say “no” to very often.

“...Yeah, alright. Thanks.”

“Great! There’s a couple of tables toward the back that should still be free, you can sneak in there no problem.” Mauricio holds the door open a bit wider for Jake to step through. “If anyone gives you any trouble, just tell ‘em you’re with me.” With a wink and another winning smile, he darts off to follow the other blazer.

Jake finds his spot easily enough, taking in the atmosphere as he weaves between tables and patrons. So this is The Paper Moon.

The building’s drab exterior is deceptive: inside is a small lounge, bustling with activity and humming with life. Richly draped walls envelop the space, with ornate lamps and soft candlelight radiating from every table. The room looks as warm as it feels, a welcome relief from Jake’s prior solitude. 

He takes off his soaked coat and loosens his tie. Across the room Jake sees his client– a cold, calculating Mr. Wesley– who gives a curt nod, as if granting his permission to take a load off (for now).

He orders a drink from a slightly bewildered waiter and continues to survey the space. People of all shapes and sizes occupy tables and barstools, with the chatter of at least three languages creating a dizzying buzz around him. The crowd dies down when stage lights flash on at the far end of the room.

Out marches the band: the guy who'd clambered to the back door sits at the piano, cracking his knuckles before playing a few notes on the keys; an older man with a similar complexion props an upright bass in position, riffing along with the scattered piano melody; an impressively mustachioed fellow polishes the mouthpiece of his trumpet; Mauricio settles in behind a set of drums, waving a stick in the air when he spots Jake.

As warm as he's gotten after coming inside, the temperature seems to skyrocket as the click of heels and the shimmer of the last band member crossing the stage sends his heartbeat right into his throat. In walks– no, floats – a vision, evening gown the same color as the richly painted lips that curl into a smile as easily as breathing. Something Jake seems to have forgotten how to do.

He can’t take his eyes off you.

----------

There’s something in the air tonight.

Maybe it’s the smoke lingering on Mauricio’s jacket (you’ve told him time and time again how smoking before a show irritates you; he must have snuck a pack backstage), or maybe the weather has you out of sorts. Whatever it is, you’re one false step away from losing your cool. Which, of course, cannot happen. Not onstage.

As the band warms up, you take one last look in your compact mirror, blot your lipstick, and take a deep breath. It’s showtime.

The moment you step onstage, you turn on the charm. Nothing can touch you up here. Not when there’s music to play, a band to lead. A night to make unforgettable.

You approach the microphone and smile. “Hello again, darlings. Did you miss us while we were away?”

Applause and cheers echo back to you from the audience. There’s a distinct two-toned whistle that rises above the noise, but you don’t think anything of it.

Not until you scan the crowd and see something– someone – that doesn’t belong.

Lounging at the previously unoccupied back table is a man you’ve never seen before. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t know the face and name of everyone who enters your club.

His eyes stay trained on you as you nod to the band to begin. One outlier a bad night will not make– you’ll deal with him later. For now, you let the caress of the opening notes ease the new tension in your body, and you start to sing.

With six shows a week, one would think the routine would become tedious. Quite the opposite: any night you play the same standards with the band is bound to be a good night. The chemistry between you and your boys is perfect– even on an off night like tonight, you still manage to follow each other and make the same hour of music sound brand new.

You lead one song, then another, completely in your own world. Of course, the constant cheers and occasional audience participation don’t hurt. But just when you hit your stride and forget your troubles, that whistle rings out above the noise.

The stranger's on the edge of his seat, rapt attention never leaving the stage. Seems innocent enough, but you’re still on high alert.

The set comes to a close, ending with a vibrant flourish. The band improvises a steady beat as you take a sip of water, then smile once more into the microphone.

“Oh, stop. Really…. well, alright, you can keep going,” you croon at the crowd as they cheer louder. 

You gesture to the band. “Let’s give a big round of applause to The Jays, what do you say?”

“On piano we have the dazzling Jackie Thomas,” you call out as he trills a fancy melody a little louder than the rest. “Followed by this absolute Adonis on the bass, Benny Hayes,” you add as the smooth licks of his instrument sound out a reply.

“Let’s hear it for Leo Castellón and his magnificent mustache on the trumpet,” you tease as he blasts out a tune. “And our baby bird on drums, Mauricio Farrés!” You raise your voice as the youth bangs out a closing rhythm. 

“And as always, I’m Ms. Songbird. We hope you’ll join us again soon, my doves. Goodnight!”

The band plays themselves out as you descend downstage to the front of the room. Time for the next act.

You know how to work a crowd both on and offstage; hospitality is as much a part of the gig as the music. Tonight’s a full house, but you take your time gliding past each table, front to back. Does everyone have their preferred drink? How’s the food? Was the music to their liking? All questions you ask with genuine interest, but you know the answer: everything is perfect.

"Hey, little songbird," a voice calls above the noise.

Everything except him.

You've been avoiding the back table for a while, trying to collect your thoughts before confronting him. No time like the present, I suppose.  

You turn to see the outlier standing by the table he’d commandeered, a shimmering bundle of rhinestones dangling from his hand. The glint of a grin catches the low light the same way your traitorous earring does.

You touch your ear and your face grows hot. “Where did you–”

“Fell off as you floated by the last few tables, angel.” 

Your heels tap out a warning as you approach. Toe-to-toe, with the added height of your shoes, you practically tower over him. Your brow furrows as you size him up: too forward to have something to hide, too laissez-faire to be up to any obvious trouble. All the same, you don't trust him.

You look him up and down; he does the same. "You're not very tall, are you?" More of a challenge than a question as you reach for the rhinestones in his hand.

Leaning back against the table, jewelry dangling just out of reach, his sly smile grows. "Well, miss, I tried to be."

"Right." You snatch the earring back before he says anything else. "I see you also tried to be discreet, and that didn't go so well for you, did it Chuck?"

"Actually, it's–"

“–club policy to check your coat at the door. Something our hostess would have insisted upon, meaning you– ” you emphasize as you lean in, fingertips pressed to the tabletop by his side, "–slipped in under the wire." You search his face for anything to betray his intentions. "Now how did you manage that?”

The stranger lowers himself into his seat, hands raised in surrender. "A little backstage access, courtesy of your drummer there." He nods toward the stage: you catch a glimpse of Mauricio clumsily ducking back behind the curtain. You'll scold him later.

His gaze shifts across the room. “See that fella over there– the one who looks like it'd kill him to smile? I’m just waiting to drive him home, like I do every week.” He grins again, that same look in his eyes. A look that sets you on edge. “Just a humble cab driver, miss– nothing up my sleeves.” 

“Didn't know cabbies could be so exclusive,” you say, still eyeing him. James Wesley has been a regular for a few weeks, but you've never met his driver.

“With what he tips? Doll, I'd do damn near anything he asked.” The stranger chuckles, sipping his drink.

You know what he means: the wait staff has noted a major uptick in gratuities since Mr. Wesley has started frequenting the lounge. 

“Very well,” you offer stiffly. It all checks out, but you get the feeling there's something he's not telling you. “I hope everything is to your liking.” 

You turn to leave, but he takes your hand before you can go far.

“Oh believe me, it is… Ms. Songbird. ” A wink and a smile play on his lips as he swiftly presses them to your knuckles, letting go just as fast. You storm away before giving the satisfaction of showing how flustered you are. 

“Mr. Manalo,” you beckon a waiter as he passes. He stands at attention. You gesture to the table you’d just left, not bothering to look and see if his eyes are still on you.

“Watch out for this one, will you? I get the feeling he isn’t just here for the music.”

----------

A/N: !!!! every story i write becomes my new favorite, but Noir!Jake has carved a pretty special spot in my heart this autumn. so excited to share more of him with y'all!

as always, thank you for reading :)

addtl tag list: @fandxmslxt69 @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[airbendertendou]

sunscreen and doughnut shaped floats! ♥︎ tokyo revengers

anon requested : Hello, may I please request the Tokyo Revengers characters (as many and anyone you feel like including) + the reader having a water fight (with balloons, water guns and hoses)? I loved the karaoke night with Toman!!

synopsis : a pool day with toman! gender neutral reader wears a swimsuit and puts on sunscreen. [name] used in place of y/n. everyone is a lil in love w reader <3

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

Baji grins as he turns the dial on the stereo, turning the volume up even higher. A sound of protest is drowned out, the song overlapping any disagreements. A loud whoop! is heard, followed by a splash as Mikey cannonballs into the pool.

You shake your head with a small laugh as Draken waves his spatula in the air, frown on his face. The sunscreen bottle in your hand is more than half empty, slowly falling into your open palm. Cold, soft hands land on your bare shoulders, them jolting and stiffening in response.

"Sorry," Mitsuya grins at you, raising his hands. He points to the bottle in your hand, "want me to get your back? Ken's got the grill covered for now."

You nod, handing him the bottle. "Sure. Thanks, 'suya."

His grin widens, "no problem." You turn, bare back facing the lilac-hiared boy as he lathers his hands in sunscreen. You jolt, the cream ice cold and frigid as it glides onto your skin. You can feel Mitsuya's laugh as his breath hits your neck. "S'a little cold, hm, [name]?"

Letting out a huff, you stare at him over your shoulder, "yeah, a little." Mitsuya only winks in response as his hands lower to your waist. "Think I can handle it from here—"

"[Name]." Chifuyu is suddenly in front of you as he frowns. Green eyes narrow at the boy over your shoulder — you curl your lips into your mouth to stop your laughter. "Can you put that on me when you're done?"

"I don't mind doing it." But, Chifuyu ignores Mitsuya, eyes widening at you in an attempt to look innocent. Another laugh is huffed against your neck, fingers trailing around your waist until they're on your torso. "[Name]'s busy."

"Doing what?"

You clear your throat — another useless attempt to hide your amusement. "Here," you reach a hand back to Mitsuya, "I'll put some sunscreen on you while Mitusya finishes up. Alright?"

Chifuyu frowns again, but turns his back to you anyways. You lather the sunscreen into your hands, hoping to warm it up a little before putting it on him. Mitsuya laughs again — closer this time — before placing a small kiss to your shoulder.

"I'm going to help Draken out," he speaks. Chifuyu's shoulders relax at the words, moving with your hands as he's slathered with sunscreen. "Be back soon. ...Maybe tell Mitchy to get out of the sun."

The green-eyed boy turns to face you, eyes scrunching as you layer cream onto his face. He watches Mitsuya leave, "don't rush back."

You tap his nose, "don't be mean." You look to the left, where Takemichi is laying out, snoring as he slowly roasts. His skin is already reddened, tender to the touch as his sunburn worsens. "Mitchy! Lookin' lobster-like, bud!"

The blond startles, sunglasses falling to the side as he sits up. "Ack!" he lets out at the color of his skin. Big, comical tears well up in his eyes, "I look like a giant strawberry!"

Baji — ignoring everything around him other than the sound of his favorite song — slaps the blond on his back. "Lookin' good, Mitchy!"

Another whine leaves Takemichi's throat at the feeling. You let out a sigh, lightly tapping Chifuyu's shoulders. "You're all covered, 'Fuyu. Baji, be careful with Mitchy's skin, okay?"

Emma waves you over as she leans against the pool wall. You sit with your legs in the water, smiling down at her. She pouts, "Mikey won't stop splashing me."

You shake your head playfully, "Mikey, be nice to your sister."

"She doesn't play mermaids right."

Emma spins to face him, frown deepening. "You don't play right!" She crosses her arms over her chest, "you keep copying me."

Mikey shrugs, sitting on the steps of the pool as he swings his legs together, mimicking a mermaid tail. "Your ideas are better than mine. But, I want a purple to blue glitter tail and water powers."

Emma groaned, "I wanted water powers! You wanted to talk to animals."

Mitsuya comes to sit beside you, a bag of chips in his hand. He holds the bag out to you, eyeing Mikey and Emma. "You can both have water powers, right?"

"Then it's not fun anymore." Mikey turns his head with a pout. Emma lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes before swimming off. Mikey looks at you once more, "food almost done?"

"Only a few more minutes!" Smiley calls from the yard. He's helping Draken grill as Angry holds an aluminum pan for the cooked food to go in. "Go ahead and get dried off."

——♥︎——

"Baji Keisuke," you speak between teeth, "do not play in the fire like that."

The boy scowls, putting the tiny stick he'd picked up back to the ground. Draken sighs as he manages the fire, shaking his head at Mikey's marshmallow covered cheeks. Takemichi winces with every move he makes, his sunburnt skin aching and burning with the movement.

Mitsuya had gone home to care for his sisters ; Emma leaving to wash the chlorine out of her hair. Angry hands you a new marshmallow, holding a small piece of chocolate for you next. Smiley is across the fire, trying to take the designated fire stick from Draken.

"Hey," Chifuyu sits to your right, draping a blanket over your lap. "If you get any colder let me know, okay?"

You nod, taking the fully made s'more from Angry. As you bite into the sweet, you watch as Baji burns the marshmallow he has before handing it to Smiley. Mikey swoops in, though, eating the piping hot sweet directly from the stick.

"Mikey—" Draken lets out another sigh, shaking his head.

——♥︎—— airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[woso-lover]

My heart is numb, has no feelings | Sydney Lohmann

Sydney Lohmann x reader

Summary: Comforming Sydney after she put soul and heart into the game, but it wasn't enough.

English is not my first language

Masterlist

A/n: Is a bit rushed, 'cause I'm still heartbroken

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You couldn't believe it. No one could. Germany is out of the World Cup. A dream of yours destroyed. How you wished you hadn't injured yourself against Columbia. If you didn't, you would be on have been on the pitch, maybe making a difference. But this was not case. It was a historical moment and maybe the fall of Germany.

The game started without the luck for Germany. In the 6th minute South Korea score the leading goal. A shock to everyone. The whome time you had Waru by your side as you sat next to your girlfriend, Sydney, on the bench. You hoped he would give you luck abd dammn it did. The 42th minute Alex Popp shot a header. 1:1 Germanys is in. The bench jumped up. You quickly glanced to the big screen in the stadium, but the camera wasn't on you. So you kissed your girlfriend, before she could jump up to Laura.

Everthing was fine until you went to the changing rooms. The smile quickly turned away, when everyone git told that Marroco was leading 1:0. Now Germany needs a win. And the tension was there again. The pressure of winning. To not let history repeat itself from 2018 with men team. To not also fall down like them, in a big hole. To not be a part of the big tragedy of german football.

When you returned on the pitch and were about to sit down you looked at your teammates. Fear, nervousness, tension were the things you could see in their faces. And with that Germany went trought the game playing poorly. After a few minutes into the second half your coach came up to Sydney and told to warm-up.

The 57th minute, Popp put the ball in the net with her head but laid down injured. In the end it was offside. So still out of the World Cup.

The moment Sydney stood besides the coach with Lena Lattwein you could see the feeling from the pitch went now also to her. You just watched her waiting to get subbed in. The moment you found the right words, she ran off to the pitch.

The time was ticking and ran against Germany. And you watched with horror as there seemed no chance for Germany to score a second goal. South Korea defened very well. No chance to break trought. It started to feel like Germany lost hope. But not your girlfriend Sydney. She tried over and over again. She didn't want it to end.

Then 9 minutes of stoppage time. But the South Korean played on time. Their goalkeeeper stayed on the ground for a long time. The player got injured. They did everything to let it be a draw. But as soon as Germany had the ball they shoot and shoot and shoot at the goal. Hegering and Sydney win the ball by duels. But the last action didn't work out. A few times even Sydney tried it by herself. But the ball wouldn't go in. After an offensive foul from Lea Schüller to win the ball back. The ref whistle her whistle.

For a moment you couldn't move. It still felt so unreal. You looked to your right seeing Laura on verge of crying. The next you looked to your front, meeting the eyes of your bestfriend, Lena Oberdorf, who tried to cry. Then you were searching for yor girlfriend. You stood up, trying to hide your tears, looking for Sydney. After a few seconds you found her perched and hiding under her jacket.

"Syd..." You whispered while carefully tuching her shoulder. She looked up at you. And you swore you would have break down. The way she looked at you. Tears streaming down her face, checks red and sobbing. You helped her to get up and to put her jacket on. Then you put her into a hug. With that Sydney fully broke down and sobbed into your shoulder and neck. You were also about to break down, but you knew you needed to be strong for her.

"I-I..." You hushed her down and put your hands on her checks.

"You did everything you could, Schatz. In the end you were the only one who tried and was brave, Syd. I'm proud of you because you played incredible. You gave your heart and soul into the game." You gave her a kiss on the forehead. "But sometimes it's not enough." You stopped speaking. Tears running down your own face.

"Thank you" Sydney whispered before hiding her face in your neck.

After while Martina, your coach, gathered everyone in a circle and spoke a speech. To be honest you don't even know now anymore what she told you. You were more busy holding your girlfriend, trying not to break down yourself and looking at everyones sad faces.

And this wasn't even the hardest part yet. You also needed to go trought the reporter. You were happy nobody sent Sydney in there. But they were meaner then this and put the two youngest up to the Interviews.

Everyone was a bit happy when they arrived at the hotel. It seemed like they all came down a bit. And everyone went to their rooms in silent. When you arrived your room next to Sydneys you quickly grabbed a short and shirt to wear for bed and change into it. You knocked on Sydneys door to let her know someones about to enter. When you opened the door you saw her laying in her bed, already changed. She didn't look up to the door. You stayed silent and made your way to the bed, laying next to her. Her eyes were closed but you knew she didn't sleep. You lead her head to your chest and running a hand through her hair. You know doing this will alsways help.

"I love you" She whispered and you smiled. "And it's not your fault that you didn't play today. The columbians played very dirty. I'm just happy you're okay and it's nothing serious" She added her eyes still closed enjoying the moment.

You opened your mout to say anything but Sydney already talked again knowing what you were about to say. "Don't. Do not find the guilt now by yourself, Liebling" Sydney said leaving no room for an argument. You just sighed and closed your eyes too. Trying to find some sleep.

"And by the way you didn't say 'I love you too'" Sydney mumbled into your neck.

A chuckle left your lips. "I love you too"

With that both of you trying to find some sleep in each others arms.

[charleslelurk]

four week wedding

The marriage was four weeks long; no one has time to get divorced during a triple header. aka the emo Charlos Vegas marriage fic

read here on ao3 or under the cut

Charles pulls up to the Ferrari Factory in one of his custom cars, 16 emblazoned on the side in red, and sees his Carlos–for the first time in six days–in the parking lot. 

In the days between Abu Dhabi and now, Carlos got a haircut. Charles thinks the longer hair, swept back like during the triple headers, had looked better on his teammate. 

Well, ex teammate. And soon to be ex husband. 

Carlos approaches Charles's car before he has exited the Piston. Charles plays with the straps of his bag for a moment before he gets out of the car, knowing Carlos is waiting. When Charles finally opens the door with a soft click, Carlos's sneakers are the first thing he sees. He slowly raises his eyes to Carlos's face, then steps out of the car. Carlos is looking at him with big, apologetic puppy eyes. Charles breaks eye contact as they fall into step beside one another. They will walk into the Maranello factory side-by-side to sign the papers. 

They don't say anything. 

Just inside the doors, Sylvia is waiting to shepherd them to their task, the divorce . 

The thing is… no one expected the fucking Elvis impersonator at a roadside chapel in Las Vegas who agreed to let them film to be properly ordained. No one expected that a fifteen minute ceremony at four in the afternoon on the Vegas strip would be a legit marriage they would have to annul. The marriage certificate looked fake, full of funny colors. Charles would have sworn on his pole position that it was fake. 

The thing is… the scavenger hunt PR video was fun . Carlos and Charles ran down the strip marking items off of their list as they saw Lando and Oscar running the opposite way. They had passed Max and Checo–Max leading the way with a map in hand and confidence in his step–in the amusement park of New York, New York. Outside the Sphere, Alex and Franco had been taking a selfie when Carlos and Charles tumbled out of their taxi. The Williams drivers had laughed at them, Alex practically doubled over. The day had been fun. 

In the back of the taxi, Carlos had slapped one of his paws onto Charles's knee to lean forwards and direct the driver. He had grabbed Charles by the back of the shirt to make him slow when they almost left the camera crew behind while rushing to see the Bellagio fountain show. And during the wedding ceremony, he had offered Charles his hands to hold and Charles had taken them, giggling and red in the face. Carlos had scrunched his nose, laughing too, and Charles had stared for a moment when he caught the warmth of Carlos's eyes boring into his. And they had said I do. When the Elvis impersonator had told them they could kiss the groom, Carlos had laughed big and leaned forwards to air kiss Charles on each cheek, le bise. 

And Charles had realized what he was going to miss. The entire season, he knew he would miss Carlos the person . But somewhere between buying a Las Vegas snow globe and going to the Erotica Musuem, Charles had become somber. This was it. Three more races. 

When he woke on Wednesday morning to the text from Sylvia letting them know they had actually gotten married in the Vegas chapel while trying to fulfill the "have a Vegas wedding" item of the list, he had thought he was still dreaming. He had called Carlos before he was even out from under the duvet. 

The marriage was four weeks long; no one has time to get divorced during a triple header. 

During the jet lag between Vegas and the middle east, Charles and Carlos had been able to forget about the marriage. They had races to focus on, trophies to win. They still needed to clinch the Constructor's Title from McLaren. 

But when the days settled and Charles was back in his hotel room, he thought about it each night. How he was hitched to the teammate who has been saying goodbye for ten months. Almost a year of endings, of last times. Charles fondly remembers the crocheted chili pepper Carlos received from a fan and promptly gifted to Charles. To remember me for the rest of your life. Carlos said it so easily, but with such sincerity. The chili pepper is at home in Monaco, on Charles's shelf with traded helmets. After Carlos presented Charles with his helmet, sharpie on the visor with a message Charles will never let the public know, he set it beside the pepper. A little shrine to their four years together. Forza Ferrari. 

Following Slyvia down the hall feels like a death bell chiming, each step another metal clang. It echoes like their footsteps, around the heritage of the factory, through the legend of the team that Carlos is no longer a part of. When Charles glances to his side, Carlos is already looking at him. 

Sylvia leads them into one of the board rooms. A Ferrari lawyer and each of their personal attorneys sit with empty chairs between them. Carlos walks around the table to his Sainz family lawyer. Charles slips into the seat beside his own. 

There is not much to discuss. They all know why they are here. Sylvia excuses herself and the Ferrari lawyer explains the papers he has before him, the divorce papers. Annulment. 

The stack is passed to Charles's lawyer who reads it over. She then passes it to Charles with her pen, pointing a manicured finger to the line where he should sign. Charles looks up and across the table to Carlos. 

Carlos smiles, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "Charles, are you taking me to be your lawfully divorced husband?"

Charles gasps out a laugh that turns into a little sob. Embarrassed, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth and blinks rapidly. 

"Charles…"  

Under the table, a foot bumps Charles's. He knows whose it is. He watches Carlos as a small, graceful smile pushes his cheeks up. There is something swimming in Carlos's eyes too. This is the last time he will be in Maranello. There shouldn't have been a last time, they created it with their Vegas faux pas. But as Charles and Carlos watch one another, Carlos's toes still pressed to Charles's under the boardroom table, Charles doesn't know if it was a mistake. Maybe… but no. Carlos is off to Williams. And Lewis will be coming to Marnaello tomorrow to begin Sim work for next season. This is the end of the chapter. 

"I do," Charles chokes out. Carlos's eyes fall to the page in front of Charles and he looks down too, finally lines up the end of the ballpoint pen with where he needs to sign and drags the tip across the page. It's neater than his fan signatures; this is his real one. It bears weight. A damp spot appears on the foot of the paper from a drop of water.

Charles's lawyer passes the papers to Carlos's lawyer. He looks over them longer than Charles's did, then places it in front of Carlos. The pressure against Charles's toes disappears and Carlos picks up a pen to sign too. Charles's watches Carlos stare at his signature for a long moment before he raises his big, brown, melancholic eyes to Charles again. 

"Thank you, thank you. That is settled then," the Ferrari lawyer says in Italian. Their lawyers move to stand, business complete. Carlos and Charles continue to watch one another across the table. Such a culmination of years, ended so simply with a signature. Charles turns to wistfully watch the papers disappear into the Ferrari lawyers briefcase, tucked away to be sent to the appropriate governments to prove their separation. No longer husband and husband, just two men with four years of rosso corsa tying them together. 

Charles still remembers that first real conversation he had with Carlos, in the Marina Bay towers of Singapore, overlooking the street circuit. He knows they look different, have grown and changed in ways both big and small, but he still remembers them in the humid night air, young and hungary. Now, they follow one another back out to the parking lot. Charles does not tell Carlos he is staying, that his work with the team who chose him over his teammate continues today, as Carlos cuts his final tie. No, Charles will not tell him; he knows how not to be cruel. Mercy.

"I am supposing this is it, no?" Carlos says as they walk out into the Italian air. 

Charles shakes his head. "You speak as if we will not be seeing each others at the tracks."

Carlos's eyes slacken, softening with empathy. "It is not being the same." He wrings his hands in front of him, for once not knowing what to do with them: no one to grip, to claim. 

Charles finds himself blinking rapidly again. He lets himself close the book, chapter finished. He removes the bookmark that was their brief marriage, loses the page as the papers sandwich together as it softly closes. 

He reaches for Carlos, who startles like he doesn't expect it. Charles pulls him in, wrapping his arms around his back and holding him close. Carlos smells familiar, and Charles realizes with a click of familiarity that Carlos is wearing Ferrari cologne, the one they have both been provided from the Ferrari fashion line. 

Charles searches under the bergamot and citrus for the scent of Carlos, but for once he can't find it. Carlos smells entirely of Ferrari as Charles hugs him in Maranello. He can feel the heat of Carlos's hands on his back, how his fingers are clutching the fabric of Charles's sweatshirt. Charles remembers le bise in the tiny Vegas chapel, how he had smiled and giggled while Carlos's lips barely brushed each of his cheeks. They had dropped hands just after, as Elvis shooed them to walk down the aisle, past the camera crew, their only witnesses. Later it was aired to the world, to the fans. 

Carlos pulls away first. "Goodbye, Charles," Carlos says, emphasizing the Frenchness of the pronunciation more than usual, like he is trying extra hard to say it right. 

"Bye, Carlos." Charles says, pushing his shoulder slightly, playfully. Carlos smiles and turns to his car. It is not a Ferrari. 

Carlos pauses as he reaches for the door. Charles stands in the middle of the parking lot in Maranello, feet shuffling. Carlos's head twitches, almost like he wishes to look back. Charles waits. 

Then Carlos opens the door and slides into the driver's seat. As he pulls out of the parking lot, he rolls down the window and pokes his arm out to wave goodbye. Casual, like he is waving to fans. 

Charles watches him go, his cheeks wet. He wipes his face on his sleeve before going back inside. There is work to do. 

[lunarbuck]

Kinktober Week 1: Phone Sex

header: @jen-with-a-pen

Pairing: Sam Wilson x f!reader (any race)

Word Count: 692

Prompt: Phone Sex

Warnings: phone sex, swearing, masturbation, pet names [baby, sweetheart]

my masterlist | kinktober masterlist | @lunarbucklibrary

Your phone rings, and you look around on the bed for the offending device. You try to have at least two hours of screen-free time a day, and today, you’ve spent that time reading. Your book rests against your chest as you see Sam’s photo flash on your screen. 

“Hello,” you grin. When Sam is off on a mission, he rarely has time to call, so you relish each opportunity to hear his voice.

“Hey, cutie, what’re you up to?” You can hear the roar of an engine in the background. He probably just got off the jet. Heat blooms in your chest, knowing that his first thought was to call you.

“Trying and failing to curb my screen addiction, what about you?” Sam laughs, the sound warm despite some distortion from the speaker. 

“Just thinkin’ about my girl.” You don’t miss the slight rasp in his voice, the way he practically growls the words. That heat in your chest migrates, warming you all the way to your belly. You press your thighs together, giving your clit the slightest bit of friction.

“Yeah? What about me?” Through the phone, you can hear Sam’s footsteps pick up speed before a door slams shut. His breaths come out ragged and rushed. He’s just as worked up as you are. Your book slides off your chest, falling shut, but you barely even notice.

“Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” A smile tugs at your lips while you trail your fingers down your body underneath the blanket. “I’m thinking about your perfect body, your soft skin. The way you fit so perfectly against me.” You trace the band of your sleep shorts, gently teasing yourself the way Sam always does. It’s not quite the same, but with the rasp of his voice in your ear, you can almost imagine that he’s here.

“I wish you were here,” you whisper, dipping your fingers into your shorts to slide over the fabric of your panties. 

“Me too, baby. I’m so fucking hard right now. I love the way you suck my cock. Love how you look with my dick in your mouth, so fucking beautiful.” You hear the snick of a zipper on the other end and shuffle your shorts down your legs. “Are you gonna touch yourself, baby? You gonna make yourself feel good until I get home?”

You whimper in response, circling your clit with your finger.

“Such a good girl for me, sweetie. If I were there, you know I’d be in between your legs, eating that perfect pussy of yours. I’d slide my fingers inside and warm you up for my cock just the way you like.” Your fingers follow your imagination, pressing inside your warm entrance. They’re not as big as Sam’s, but you still moan when you hit those spots.

“You sound so beautiful, baby. Keep fucking yourself on your fingers, just like that. I’m aching for you, sweetheart.” Your fingers are slick as they slide in and out of your pussy, but you want more. You manage to hit the speaker button and position your phone on your pillow to free up your other hand. You circle your clit while you fuck yourself, the sensations slowly working you toward your orgasm.

“Sam, I need you,” you moan, wishing it was his cock filling you, stretching you. You wish he was here, pressing you down into the mattress with his big, calloused hands. You wish you were grabbing onto his muscular shoulders, hanging onto him for dear life.

“I need you too, baby. I need you to come for me, please, baby. Need to hear you come.” You apply more pressure to your clit, imagining it’s Sam, and you screw your eyes shut. His cologne lingers on the pillow, and you inhale deeply as your orgasm barrels toward you.

You come moaning his name, electricity shooting through your body. Sam follows close behind, rasping your name as he comes. You suck in deep breaths and go limp against the mattress. 

“Shit,” you giggle, smiling to yourself. “Somehow, I miss you even more now.”

“I’ll be home soon, baby. Promise.”

i am discontinuing my taglist. please follow @lunarbucklibrary and turn on notifications to be notified when i post new writing. must be 18+

[foxymoxynoona]

After the Applause Ch. 8

Header and linebreaks by @awrkives

Single Dad Jimin x Female OC

SUMMARY: Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

CW/tags: grief, prior loss of spouse/parent, comfort, explicit sex, secondhand embarrassment, sort of love triangle/web/rat's nest, fluff, cursing, dating apps, fuckboy friends, dancer Jimin, stubborn dad Jimin, stubborn pre-teen daughter, miscommunication, pining

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Taehyung and Jungkook were annoyingly chipper from the moment they walked through the door. Jimin hadn’t even invited Jungkook, but both of these guys were the type to let themselves in, maybe without a knock, and help themself to whatever was in your kitchen before you even got home from work. Mostly he loved it. 

“Where’s my daughter?” Jungkook called. 

“That’s not how babysitting works!” Sunnie shouted back down the hall, just like she did every time Jungkook made this joke when he came over. 

“Let me live, Sun-young. That’s no way to speak to your appa-for-an-evening!”

Jimin grinned at their antics but focused on his reflection in the mirror, straightening his collar, tugging his sleeves into place. He brushed at his hair, smile sliding away. It was such a harsh contrast. Totally different. He worried he looked… sickly. Did it look greasy? He ran his fingers through it like usual, but it fell back into the center part. Maybe he should have left it longer… or gone shorter to start? It was risky to change his appearance so much right before a first date, wasn’t it? This was a pretty drastic change and if even he was having a hard time with it…

“Do you need a pep talk?” Sunnie asked from the doorway.

He plastered on a smile and laughed, “No. Why would I need a pep talk?”

“You look worried.”

“Is it the hair?” Taehyung asked over her head.

“Why? What’s wrong with my hair?” Jimin quickly asked, fluffing it again.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Taehyung laughed. “It looks good. Great, even! But you keep messing with it.”

“It’s so different,” Jimin admitted.

“Different isn’t bad,” Sunnie wisely reminded. “I think it looks nice!” He almost asked if she was glad, because her schoolfriends had made that comment about his blond hair, but decided against it. That was not a factor in his decision, and he didn’t it was on her mind either as she smiled so nicely at him. 

He drew a deep breath and agreed, “I think it looks nice too. I’m just… nevermind.”

“Nervous?” Sunnie asked.

“No no, I’m not. I don’t want to talk about this,” he said and waved his hands to get them to clear out of the doorway so he could leave the bathroom.

“It’s ok to be nervous before something big.”

“It’s not big, it’s…” Just Hanbyul, he thought, but that was both true and not true. It was “just Hanbyul” –nice, supportive, easy-going Hanbyul. He enjoyed spending time with her and now he’d have the whole evening with her undivided attention. But at the same time, it wasn’t just anything, it was a date. There was a point to hanging out this time: hopefully to earn a second date. And a third and a fourth and– suddenly the future overwhelmed him. What was he rushing into, going on a date? He barely had stability with his daughter!

A knock on the door made them all turn. 

Jungkook snickered, “Is she coming to pick you up?”

He didn’t think so but worried their date was already starting with a miscommunication. He crossed quickly and threw it open, ready to apologize that he wasn’t quite ready yet, he needed a few more minutes to debate his visual choices–

Seokjin stood on the other side, looking wide-eyed and surprised, like Jimin was the one who had shown up at his house unexpectedly. 

“Didn’t you go yet?” Seokjin gasped. “Are you late? When did you change your hair?”

“I’m not late, I’m about to go. What are you doing here?”

“We’re having a party and there will be dancing,” Sunnie giggled as Seokjin slid past and caught her when she jumped up for a flying hug. “Don’t worry about us, Appa. Have fun on your date! Don’t forget the flowers!” She had helped him pick them out on the way home when they passed a vending machine with bouquets inside and he’d audibly gasped, realizing he had almost forgotten.

“Why do you need three babysitters? This is trouble.” All four blinked at him and he sighed, “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I have a date to get to.”

“Hey I came over so there would be an adult here,” Seokjin defended, which everyone promptly ignored. 

“Yeah, get going,” Taehyung ordered. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

“Women like men who are on time,” Sunnie agreed with an emphatic nod of her head.

“What do you know about women?” Jungkook demanded.

“I’m a woman!”

“Someday,” he snorted. “Don’t rush it, mini-Mochi. You’ll make us all feel old. You can’t get married until I am.” 

Jimin couldn’t help but think the same thing, that she was getting too drawn into something grown up like “dating”. What if knowing too much about his dating life was making Sun-young grow up too quickly? He really ought to be hiding all of this from her, he kept thinking about that, about how devastating it was going to be for Sunnie if dating Hanbyul didn’t work out. Little girls shouldn’t know their dads were going on dates, right? He didn’t want to risk her getting hurt.

Well it was too late now. She knew and was exuberant about it –unless this was all excitement about an evening with her uncles, which was entirely possible. Jimin gave up on getting an answer as to why all three of them had come. He hadn’t asked for this, so he wouldn’t feel guilty about their unpaid babysitting. He’d only asked Taehyung! Probably it meant they were planning to play games after Sun-young went to bed. 

“Be good,” he called over his shoulder.

“He means all of you,” Sun-young teased, then let out a shriek of laughter as Seokjin tossed her onto the couch so Taehyung could get the remote first. 

Jimin felt a little jealous to leave. That lasted until he closed the door, flowers in hand. He grinned as Hudu’s barking sped closer to Hanbyul’s door when he buzzed, then the thud of the pup jumping against it. He could only make out the murmur of Hanbyul’s voice and felt his heart dip in his chest. Ah, he was really this excited, huh? It wasn’t even really nerves, though he licked his lips and ran his hands through his hair and fidgeted which could all appear so. Maybe he was a little nervous. But really, truthfully, he was just really excited to get to spend the evening with her.

“Sorry,” she said, swinging the door opening and flinching as Hudu tried to escape her hold. “Am I late? I’m not late, am I?” She shook her head as a lock of hair escaped her updo and fell across her forehead and Jimin resisted the impulse to reach out and brush it back. 

“Is Hudu coming with us?” he asked instead, hoping it sounded smooth because his brain shut down regarding anything else. She had a red cardigan on over her red dress; even though the dress reached her knees, she looked incredibly sexy. He was stupefied. 

“Oh my god your hair!” she gasped.

“I’ve never seen you in that color before,” Jimin said before realizing what she’d said, seconds before she did what he had not been brave enough to do and reached up to touch. 

Jimin would have stayed frozen for the rest of the night if she’d kept playing with his hair, but Hudu took the opportunity to try and claim a kiss, which made Hanbyul cry out in pain as his little feet scrabbled against her chest. 

Without thinking, Jimin pressed his hand to cover her chest and protect it, just as she turned to toss Hudu back into the apartment, resulting in Jimin sliding his hand across her chest and accidentally cupping her breast.

He gasped and pulled his hand away, stammering, “Ah, sorry, I–” Hanbyul shut the door and looked up at him with obvious alarm. Horrified, he waved his hands and said again, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… touch…” In trying to explain, he made an unfortunate squeezing hand gesture.

Hanbyul pressed her hand to her cheek and laughed, “I didn’t think you did. It’s all right.” Jimin felt like it was a pretty offensive start to the date, and the moment of awkward silence that followed made it worse. He didn’t know what else to say. He was stuck on how stunning she looked, bold and bright in a way she did not usually dress, classy as always, like she knew how to command a date or a boardroom or anything else she wanted to command. By contrast Jimin felt rather rumpled now. He’d stylishly tucked in only half of his black and white button-up but now worried it looked too casual, or like he’d done it by mistake. Was she thinking that, that he wasn’t stylish enough to go to a company dinner on her arm?

“I just locked my key in my apartment,” she said, voice level so it took a moment for him to register what she’d actually said. 

“You what?”

“I closed my door… my whole purse is in there still,” she said, holding her hands out to show they were empty. For another moment they just stared at each other. It wasn’t like her, so far as he knew, to be forgetful like that. In a way it put him at ease. Was she just as nervous and excited about this as he was?!

“You look incredible,” he said, because he couldn’t wait any longer to say it. “Even without your purse.”

“Thank you. Your hair really does look nice,” she said, her gaze focused on it while his resisted the pull of the red fabric running down her body.

“Yeah? I wasn’t sure… I’ve been blond for so long.”

“What made you change it?”

“I don’t know… I just felt like it was time for a change –uh, should I call the landlord?”

“Yes– wait! Don’t you have my–”

“Oh yeah I have a key from when I was checking on Hudu!” he realized. “Wait here please.” She didn’t actually need to wait there although he figured it was better not to parade her through his apartment where three of his friends and Sunnie would leap at the opportunity to pester her. He avoided their questions on his own, claiming to have forgotten something as he dug around the bowl of coins and keys by the front door until he found the one belonging to Hanbyul.

“Sorry, I should have returned this,” he admitted, setting it in her palm.

“I’m glad you didn’t or we’d spend our date waiting for the landlord,” she said, bowing politely before pushing the door open and disappearing inside “Thank you, one moment please.”

It was more than one moment. At almost five minutes, Jimin was almost ready to fear she’d gotten cold feet when she appeared again, murmuring to Hudu before sliding out the door, this time with her black purse over her shoulder. He didn’t know what had taken her so long to find her purse but decided not to ask. He remembered Subin telling him that, how women had to be allowed to have some mystery to them.

Damnit, he didn’t need Subin giving him advice right now.

And yet it was darkly comforting, the idea that Subin would be in his mind. It didn’t depress him at all, it instead made him feel calmer and cooler as he pushed the elevator buttons with Hanbyul ramrod straight beside him. He had loved Subin and she had loved him, and she would want him to find happiness again, because he knew in his heart he would have wanted the same for her. It was hard, being lonely. 

He’d managed to win over an amazing woman years before. Maybe he could pull it off again.

“Is it true that lightning doesn’t strike twice?” Jimin asked. Hanbyul looked understandably confused by the question. “It sounds like one of those things that people say but it isn’t actually true.”

“If only Sun-young was here, she might know,” Hanbyul suggested with a smile. 

“Maybe I’ll look it up– no, I won’t,” he decided, pulling out and then slipping back his phone. It would be a strange thing to do on his date. 

“Look it up,” she insisted. “Otherwise I’ll be thinking about it all night instead of…”

“Instead of me?” Jimin laughed. “Damn, science is really out for me, huh? First Sunnie, now you… What does science have that I don’t?”

He adored Hanbyul in that moment so strongly he held his breath, for the way she played along with him, tapping her chin and thinking out loud, “Hm… well… science can cook.”

He laughed and whined and argued, “But science can’t… dance, science can’t… uh… open the door for you.” He did so.

“Well, technically you used physics to–”

“Science is all questions, Hanbyul,” he interrupted. “No answers, just guesses and maybe you’re right, maybe you’re wrong.”

“I have a lot of questions about you too,” she countered. “Guesses, but no answers.” 

He failed to think of what to say to that, just froze facing her, mouth open, ready for words that didn’t appear. He was not usually so easily flustered into silence. What did she mean by that? She had answers about him. 

“You have answers,” he tried. “I am the answer.”

“To… what hypothesis?”

“Woah woah, simple words please, Sunnie is the scientist, not me.”

“What question are you the answer to?” she asked, such a coy question, surely her mind was thinking the same things. Who is the right person for me? Who cares for me? Who could I see myself building a life with? Who do I want to see at the end of the day and wake up next to and call over a minor inconvenience or majorly good news? 

He was getting carried away. He would have felt worse about it if her face didn’t turn such a deep shade of pink as she looked shyly away. That made him want to melt at her feet.

“Who is buying you dinner tonight?” he suggested to save them both, and pulled out his phone to order a car.

“Did we say that? I thought I could pay this time…” she murmured and he pretended not to hear.

**

“How’s your food?” Jimin asked, knife and fork pausing on his steak as he waited for Hanbyul’s answer.

She was mid-bite and covered her face to chew more quickly before she could answer, “Yes, it’s very good.”

“My friend recommended this place so if it’s bad… you can tell me and I’ll take you somewhere else.”

“It’s good,” she assured him. He had already told her that, that Yoongi recommended it after Jimin told him he wanted to take Hanbyul somewhere nicer for the date than Yoongi’s restaurant, and how Yoongi had said they’d probably just end up at his place anyway. 

Hanbyul thought Jimin just wanted her to know he’d brought her somewhere nice on purpose, which was sweet. She appreciated it, even though she was definitely going to insist on paying. This was the 21st century and he had a child to raise and she thought she might make more money than him, though she wasn’t sure. Maybe that wasn’t true. She sure wasn’t going to ask! But still, she thought it very important for him to know that she was the type of modern woman who met someone halfway in a relationship. Of which she had limited experience, perhaps, certainly nothing to the level of marriage but still. It was the principle. 

Her answer was honest: the food was very good. Yoongi had chosen well. The restaurant was beautiful, the atmosphere romantic, Jimin had chosen a fantastic red wine which Hanbyul drank too quickly. It felt fake to be sitting in a place like this with Jimin. Not that a man had never brought her to a Japanese steak house before, but it wasn’t what she had envisioned with Jimin. Maybe she should have dressed nicer, but she’d really thought the dress might be the right balance of sexy and safe for her. Maybe Jimin would expect someone fashionable, so she wanted to try. She wasn’t unfashionable usually, right? Her sister had helped her pick out the dress over a video call months before but it had never felt like the right time to wear with Namjoon so it had just been hanging there, waiting for tonight.

“Hanbyul?”

“Hm?” She’d missed whatever he said and sipped her wine to cover her embarrassment. It wasn’t that her mind kept wandering. It was just that he was talking so much and she couldn’t think of anything to say. Since the moment she’d begun to dress tonight, she had the feeling she was preparing for a job interview. Yes, she’d secured the date but that was just the interview. She needed to demonstrate she was mature and responsible and reliable and a good influence for his daughter, and also fun and sexy but not too sexy, and engaging… she was not doing a good job being engaging. Her flustered attempts at jokes probably seemed like she was trying too hard because she was. 

Maybe he didn’t notice though. He’d transitioned from the latest music he’d heard and wanted to incorporate into the next recital –not the one coming up, but the one he’d dance in next– to movies.

“I’ve been watching movies lately,” he said. “The movies that I’ve been watching… well, not many. Maybe three, I watch at night while I’m folding laundry or working out after Sunnie goes to sleep.”

“Oh? Anything you enjoyed?”

“Ah… this one, I don’t remember what it was called…” He trailed off and took another bite of his steak. He glanced at her plate and she sensed he was about to ask her how it was again but then caught himself. He took a sip of his wine too and this time paused, waiting, clearly for her to choose a topic.

“Um…” No, she shouldn’t say um. “I need to take Hudu to the vet soon.”

Instantly Jimin’s face shifted to concern as he gasped, “Oh no, is something wrong?”

“Oh. No, just for grooming –his nails are too long and he needs some shots.”

“Ah, you scared me,” he laughed. “How would you feel if I said that? I need to take Sunnie to the doctor soon.”

“Sorry, that would scare me!” she admitted. “I just meant… I don’t know what else to talk about.”

“I’m not very good at conversation. Maybe I’m talking too much,” he sighed with a shake of his head. Hanbyul didn’t think either of those things was true at all. “I do that when I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” she asked without thinking it through. 

He looked at her in surprise and then laughed, “It’s my first date with you, did you forget?”

“I definitely didn’t forget I just… don’t know what you have to be nervous about,” she said, attempting to sound casual through the giddy jump of her heart. “I mean, you’re so charming.”

He immediately latched onto that and leaned forward, chin in his hand as he pressed, “I’m charming? You think so?”

“I agreed to the date, didn’t I?”

“I charmed you into it. I was worried you might see through it. I’m a nervous wreck. I’m not good at the whole–”

He gestured and she didn’t know what that meant but could honestly say, “That’s what’s so charming about you. You’re sincere. You care so much.”

“I do,” he conceded. “That’s why I never could have been ready to date if it was anyone but you.”

“Why is that?” She was afraid it would show on her face how impossibly thrilled this made her. Really? Only her? That couldn’t be true. 

His grin was the sort that made your heart start, the type of beautiful smile that if she knew him any less she would think was just a play. He had to know the power of that smile, he had to be doing it on purpose. But she could see the way it paired with a softness around his eyes, a slight self-conscious squint.

“You’ve seen the confusing mess I can be and it didn’t already chase you away so maybe…” he looked at the ceiling in thought. “Maybe it can be ok if I talk too much or the restaurant isn’t good or it rains on our walk home.”

“I wouldn’t hold the rain against you. And if the food is bad, we’ll just wind up at your friend’s restaurant,” she pointed out.

“That’s true, we can.”

“But the food is really good. And if you talk too much when you’re nervous, that’s good, because I get quieter when I’m nervous, and that way we can still have a nice conversation.”

“Maybe a little one sided.”

“Maybe a little one-sided,” she agreed with a laugh. “Until we get on a topic I’m passionate about and then maybe you’ll– be bored–” She broke off, realizing with a start his hand had been creeping towards her’s on the table only because it suddenly pulled away. Her heart flipped. Had he been going to hold her hand and stopped, or was she misunderstanding? Maybe he’d only been reaching for his cup on the wrong side. Still, she kept her hand there, even though it felt too far forward. She was curious. She would have loved for him to take her hand, even if it made eating awkward. But maybe she’d misunderstood and that was too forward. She expected things might move slowly with him and that was perfectly alright.

He didn’t act like he’d just tried to hold her hand, just lifted his glass and insisted, “Ok, let’s hear it. What things are you really passionate about?”

“Me? Um…”

“Gender equality,” he said. “Hudu.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Winter.”

Again she nodded.

“What else? I feel like so much of my time with you has been demanding your attention for things in my life. I want to know so much more about you.”

“I’m not that compelling,” she tittered self-consciously.

“I think you are.” Now it was her turn to look surprised and he actually flushed and pressed his hand to his forehead, crying, “Sorry, was that too blunt? You looked so surprised!”

“I’m not used to someone saying anything like that to me.”

“Why do you think I asked you out?” he teased. “You think I find you boring but kissed you anyway? Ah, it’s a good reminder though, I feel more confident now that you’ve reminded me you can be ridiculous too.”

“Jimin! I would never be ridiculous,” she joked, crossing her arms. “I have good reason for my nerves.”

“Tell me one good reason.”

“What if you’re scared away by something I say?”

“Like you have a crazy passion? Ok, tell me what it is, I’ll let you know if I can handle it.” He sat up straight, hands down on the table, body so serious and stiff but he was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Snakes.”

“You’re lying,” he said, instantly curling in.

“I’m not, I think they’re very interesting!”

“Snakes are– ok, maybe it’s time to get the bill–”

“Jimin!” she laughed and tried to nudge him under the table. His joking and pretense of standing up had made several people look over, but Hanbyul didn’t feel self conscious about it at all. In fact she felt a little proud that people would see her here with this handsome man smiling and having a good time with her. 

“Do you really like snakes?”

“I’ve only actually ever seen them at the zoo, never up close,” she admitted. “But there are some really interesting blogs about them I read if I can’t sleep.”

“You’re kidding.”

But she wasn’t and when she shook her head, he laughed and sighed, “Ok tell me what else. What other snakes do you have in your pockets? If Sunnie finds out she’s going to ask to get a pet snake.”

“Does she like snakes?”

“She likes anything you like, I think,” he suggested. 

“I don’t think so. She has such a beautiful mind of her own. We do like some of the same things though.” 

“Sorry, I was trying not to bring her up much tonight– oh, yes, I think we’ll take the dessert menu,” Jimin answered the waiter. But what he’d said struck Hanbyul, so as soon as the waiter left, she pressed him on it.

“What did you mean just now? You’re trying not to mention Sun-young?”

“I didn’t bring you on a date to just talk about my kid the whole time.”

“But I don’t mind at all! It’s all right if you need a break from being Appa but really, Jimin, I love to hear about her, you don’t have to worry you’ll talk to much about her.”

“I guess that’s true... It’s not like you don’t already know I have a daughter.”

“I figured it out,” she joked. 

“Probably because you watch so many crime documentaries, hm? That’s how you figured it out?” 

“How did you know that?” she gasped, sure she had never told him that.

“I figured it out,” he smirked. “You’ve mentioned a few times that you were jumpy after watching one. Don’t watch things that scare you, Hanbyul!”

“I like the solved ones where you get to see everything start to make sense. I don’t like the unsolved ones though, those keep me up at night.”

“And then you have to read snake blogs to calm down,” he laughed.

“Yes, but that’s a very normal interest though!”

“Snakes and crime documentaries,” he snickered. “And Minnie Mouse–”

“I hate that you saw that.” She covered her face. “How embarrassing.”

“Why? It was cute. Do you like Minnie Mouse?”

“She’s all right. To be honest I always liked Hello Kitty better, but my eomma had this idea that my sister and I needed to like different things, so she’d buy my sister Hello Kitty and me Minnie Mouse which made everyone in my family think I like Minnie Mouse, so…”

“Hold on, let me make a note of this, prefers Hello Kitty,” he joked, pretending to type it on his phone. “Your family doesn’t know that?”

She frowned, realizing, “I know that makes me sound like a pushover. I did tell my eomma when I was younger but then at some point, I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for gifts. It’s the thought that counts.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all. I think of it as you were being thoughtful towards your family, but I,” he gestured, “would want to give you the thing you really want.”

“I don’t think you need to take notes on that,” she said, then heard herself and quickly reached for her glass of wine. It’s you. She couldn’t imagine ever being disappointed with anything Jimin gave her, simply because he took the effort to think of and get something for her. But really she’d been thinking something way more embarrassing: if I have you, what else is there?

“What sort of gifts do you like?” she countered to recover.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he quickly dismissed. “Food and how well you get along with my daughter, that’s all for me.”

“There has to be more. What do you consider really romantic?”

He looked up in thought and the lights reflected in his eyes. They looked darker with his darker hair, the line of his brow looked heavier, his lips looked so much more pillowy with the contrast. Hanbyul could have said plenty before about how much she loved his blond hair, how natural and handsome the color suited him, but Jimin with dark hair managed to be even more stunnnigly handsome. She hadn’t been able to resist touching his hair earlier and wished she could do the same again. Maybe his hair color stood out less now in a restaurant full of dark hair but it made his natural good looks even more obvious. 

“To me it’s really more about the thoughtfulness and the effort,” he said. “So if I buy someone a bag, I want a gift they like so they know I have space for them in my mind, that the things they care about are important to me too. But there’s no physical gift to unwrap that means as much to me as when someone is there for you. That’s romance to me.”

“Yes,” Hanbyul said, awed by him. “Yes I think that too.”

“Like when you were there with Sunnie when I was so sick. I’ll never forget that.”

“It wasn’t a burden at all. She was much easier than you cleaning up after Hudu,” she countered.

“It really feels like we understand each other,” he said, but low under his breath, like it wasn’t entirely meant for her to hear. Her heart fluttered. She felt that way too, and it gave her confidence to relax slightly. Even if they weren’t used to a situation like this –a fancy dinner just the two of them– that was the part they could get used to in time. 

The dessert menu arrived, but when they didn’t either one see anything that called to them, they agreed to go elsewhere. Hanbyul insisted they split the check when it came, only to learn Jimin had already secretly paid for it and wouldn’t even explain to her how he’d managed the magic trick, because she hadn’t left the table since the beginning and neither had he.

“Then I’m buying dessert,” she insisted as he held the door for her. “And probably the next two dinners…”

Laughter bubbled out of him as he teased, “Ah, already planning more dates with me before this one is even done? I must be doing all right.”

“Yes, I think so,” she assured him. She poked him in the side and insisted, “We’ve known each other for a while. We can be casual with each other, you don’t have to hold the door for me.”

“On the contrary, Hanbyul, I used to feel casual with you, and now everything feels much more serious.”

“Don’t let it. It’s just me, friendly neighbor Hanbyul.”

He laughed, “You’re going to haunt me with that until old age, huh?” and stopped himself just before he poked her back. He missed her look of regret. She was hungry for his touch and didn’t want him worried there was a formal boundary like that; hadn’t she just said that? But maybe it was about his comfort, and she would respect that.

“Yes, I think I might,” she admitted, deciding to stick with verbal teasing. It was a joke, but a hopeful one: that they might have a future that extended far into old age.

She was too distracted to notice the movement of his hand until his fingers had brushed hers, a gentle question she answered by sliding hers through. His hand was warm, almost sweaty, despite the cool night air. She would have liked to say something clever or coy but found all thoughts left her mind as they walked down the street holding hands.

“Cake or ice cream?” he asked, the only question to break the silence during their walk.

“Cake.”

They found a sweet cafe further down near the park where conversation flowed more easily, like they were settling more into this unusual scenario. It was just a little challenging without Sun-young there to tug them forward, that was all, as Jimin told himself. But they picked different cakes and tried each, and he felt more confident here with how the lights sparkled in Hanbyul’s eyes when two samoyeds sauntered over to demand some pets, and once she was talking about Hudu, Jimin forgot to feel nervous at all.

“It was fate,” she explained about her meeting with Hudu. “Someone carried him in from the rain with the box his previous owner had put him in. He was so little, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could just abandon such a sweet boy like that, so I took him in.”

Jimin stopped himself before making what felt the very obvious comparison to himself and Hudu. Hanbyul had a soft spot for blond boys with big brown eyes who looked at her with adoration, was that it? He felt like she’d pulled him in out of the rain too. 

She paused only briefly when he took her hand, then continued her story about Hudu. He understood how much easier it was to talk about their babies; stories of Sun-young poured from him as well as they sat close together across the cafe booth. It was so quiet and casual that Jimin found himself beginning to doubt his plans for the rest of the evening.

“I think we need to change our date,” he admitted once they’d sat over empty plates long enough.

Hanbyul’s mouth opened so slightly that Jimin nearly leaned over to kiss it, she looked so soft and pretty. 

He resisted and quickly clarified, “I had planned to take you to a club so we could finally have our dance but I don’t really feel like sharing you with a noisy space right now.”

The flush on her face was so pretty that Jimin decided he needed to flirt more boldly with her, even if he felt nervous about it. She ducked her head and lifted her glass but it was empty. Cute cute, he thought. Then,

“Ah, I have an alternate idea though.”

“Ok…”

“Don’t be so nervous,” he laughed. “It’s a bit of a walk, is that ok?”

“I have nowhere to be, if it’s not too late for you.”

“Sun-young is probably in safe hands. She’s got three babysitters tonight so… maybe I should check in actually…”

He waited until they were outside and walking close together before he sent a group text, figuring someone would see it. Within minutes Seokjin had replied telling him to get off his phone, that wasn’t how you impress a woman, and to stop worrying about Sunnie, she was asleep. Then Taehyung and Jungkook berated Seokjin for not letting them answer with something funnier. At this point Jimin slipped his phone into his pocket and took Hanbyul’s hand for the third time now. 

“Everything ok?” she asked when he didn’t volunteer anything.

“Hm? Oh yeah, everything is fine. She’s asleep.”

“Maybe I should have sent Hudu over too for the company.”

“You could have! My friends would love Hudu. Do you think he’s lonely? Do we need to head back?”

Hanbyul looked like she regretted her joke and insisted, “No no, I  think he’s probably enjoying being king of the apartment for a few hours. Maybe he’s getting into mischief. He’s so smart, he knows how to cover his tracks, so I won’t find a purse he chewed up or an empty food bag for days or weeks and then he pretends like he has no idea how it got beneath the bed.”

“Ah, he’s so smart,” Jimin agreed. “Unless you’re the one eating your snacks in your sleep, and he’s really innocent.”

“Don’t let him convince you!” Hanbyul laughed.

“Are you sure you don’t eat snacks in your sleep?”

“Or chew purses?” she giggled and it was music to his ears, that giggle. He brought her hand to the inside of his elbow and pressed his other hand over it, because just holding hands didn’t feel close enough. He felt like he floated along beside her. He’d never dreamed he could feel this way about a woman again. 

He worried she was getting tired just when they reached the studio, dark inside except for a couple emergency lights that were always on upstairs.

“Is this ok?” he asked her.

She dropped her voice to a whisper and joked, “Are we allowed to be here?”

He whispered back, “I have it on good faith with the owner that it’s ok.” He unlocked the gate and pushed it up, then the door and held it open for her to enter.

“You’ve been here before, right?” he asked. 

“Just that time I dropped Sunnie’s bag off. Maybe another time I walked her here… not really inside.”

“Well, welcome to my other pride and joy, my second child,” he told her, flipping on lights as they went so she wouldn’t be scared in the dark. He wasn’t. He could walk this place blindfolded and only trip if one of the students had left their bag or shoes strewn about, which often did happen. He tried to see the place through her eyes as he led her around but couldn’t imagine what the big empty studios would look like to a non-dancer. Probably just big empty rooms. He began to worry that this was a dumb thing to do, bringing her here.

“You and your wife opened this place, right?” she asked as they entered the private back studio, his favorite one, where he’d intended the tour to finish.

Jimin froze, a flash of regret grabbing his shoulders. Shit. Yes. Yes they had and now he turned slowly to her, realizing he had brought her to a place that was meaningful to him and his late wife, to dance, which had been the uniting factor with him and his late wife.

“I… yes…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mention her if it’s… if that’s too painful or upsetting!” Hanbyul rushed out. “I just meant to get my Park Jimin history straight!”

“It’s not that I’m expecting you to– that I’m searching for a replacement for her or anything,” he rushed out just as quickly.

“That’s good because I really can’t dance!”

“I didn’t bring you here to… I’m sorry, I didn’t even think that it might make you uncomfortable to be here,” he apologized, flicking the light off and nudging her back towards the door. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t need to be sorry, and we don’t need to go!” Hanbyul insisted, gently nudging him the opposite direction. She tried to reach the light but couldn’t find it, her hand searching along the wall as she insisted, “I’m not upset by that, truly.” She flicked the light switch but it was the lights around the mirrors rather than the overheads –admittedly a more romantic atmosphere anyway.

“Jimin,” she said, and he swallowed, bracing for whatever she had to say, aware of the much larger space between them right now than at any point during their walk. “I’m not… bothered or afraid or upset by the fact that you had a wife who you loved and she was taken from you. I’m heartbroken that you had to endure that kind of loss but I don’t feel like I’m competing.”

“You aren’t,” he said quickly. “And my feelings for her are in the past.”

Hanbyul gave him a gentle smile and pressed, “I don’t think they have to be. I’m certainly not the expert here but I think our hearts are big enough to love many people in many different ways throughout our lives. Ga Subin is someone who I greatly admire for who she was to you and Sun-young. I feel nothing but kind things for her, except regret that she didn’t get to have more time with you and your daughter. You don’t have to try and erase her from your life to make space for me. I hope you don’t feel that way.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like… like I’m comparing you two, or that I wish you were her. You’re two different women to me.” He stepped closer to her, hoping she could feel the earnest truth of his words. “I do wish I’d had more time with her, but I didn’t. I will always miss her, and you’re right, I can’t erase her even just for Sunnie’s sake but… but meeting you, getting closer to you, feels like you opened a door I didn’t even know was there, to a new future that I… I look forward to very much.” He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers against her jaw, overly aware of the way her mouth opened that soft small way again. 

“That’s… good. I’m glad to hear that.”  

“You can’t understand how much being with you has healed my heart,” he continued. “I’ll always carry the scar of Subin but you are such a big, bright, warm space in my chest that everything feels beautiful again. I’m so glad I knocked on your door that time Sun-young was sick.”

She hadn’t expected that reference, and let out a quiet laugh, “I’m glad you did too. I was happy to help.”

“I didn’t even know you well yet but from that moment on you made me feel like everything could be all right, like I could be happy again. I’m sorry it took me so long to reach the point I realized truly what you are to me. I didn’t think I could possibly earn a new future like this.”

“Don’t be,” she insisted, longing for his kiss. “You needed the time. I don’t resent that at all. It gave me time to make sure of what I really want too, if I think I can be who you and Sun-young deserve. I’m no Ga Subin and I won’t pretend to be but–”

“You’re my beautiful neighbor Hanbyul,” he grinned and leaned in, whispering millimeters from her lips, “who I’m head over heels for.” The longed for kiss captured Hanbyul’s heart as much as she’d expected it to, flooding her with warmth from scalp to heels. She bunched her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, feeling like she needed to grab something or she’d be swept away in him. There was no one else in that kiss but them, she didn’t feel at all like she was second, even here in this business he and his first love had built together. She had no doubt Jimin’s heart was big enough, only disbelief and honor that he’d pulled her into it. 

Mostly, though, she was just lost in the softness of his lips and how perfectly they danced with hers. 

“Ok,” he murmured, slowly backing up but tugging her with him. “Let’s dance?”

“I really don’t know how.”

“I saw you in the club, you were sexy.”

“I was drunk.”

“Well, I can make us some drinks too,” he grinned and then really did pull away. 

She crossed her arms and demanded, “Do you hide alcohol in your dance school!?”

“Not usually but we only have adult classes in this studio and sometimes we have a little night cap after rehearsal,” Jimin said, “Like last night.”

“The performance is coming up, right? You and Sunnie are both performing?”

“Sunnie’s last ballet recital,” he sighed.

“She’s staying in hiphop though, isn’t she?”

“Yes, that’s true. That’s a good way to look at it, I shouldn’t be so down about it,” he admitted, unlocking a cabinet in the back corner and pulling out two bottles of cider and a bottle of Tequila. “Which do you prefer?”

“Cider,” Hanbyul quickly answered. “Tequila would be a very different sort of night.”

“Hm, what sort of night would that be?” he teased, but locked the Tequila back inside. The story Hanbyul told him as they sat on the floor against the mirrors, sipping their cider, was not the sexy tale he clearly expected. It involved a company dinner she felt obligated to attend, tequila shots she felt obligated to partake in by her boss, and an intern holding her hair back as she puked on the walk home. 

“No tequila for you, got it,” he laughed. “But for the record, I’m the kind who will hold your hair back and bring you a glass of water and bufferin.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Will you come to the recital?” he suddenly asked, backtracking. It occurred to him suddenly that he hadn’t asked and shouldn’t assume she would, just because it felt so obvious to him that she ought to be there. He might be getting ahead of himself, slotting her mentally into his life so quickly.

“Of course I will, if I’m invited.”

“You’re invited. I’ll save a seat for you and dance my best to impress you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be impressed no matter what,” she admitted, already feeling it go to her head –the cider, the idea of watching Jimin dance on stage, the suggestion he was dancing for her. “When did you know you wanted to be a dancer?”

Listening to Jimin talk about his passions was like watching the sunrise. Hanbyul was transfixed. She regretted that she didn’t have some beautiful passion to talk about in the same way, and missed completely the way he watched her when she talked about what felt like such meager ambitions next to his. She wasn’t saving lives or adding beauty to the world through her work, but she had pride in what she did professionally and pleasure in her culinary endeavors outside of work.

Jimin suddenly looked stricken and asked, “When is your interview again?”

“The first round is next week.”

“Ah. You’ll do great. When is the next round?”

“Well I have to make it through the first.”

“You will,” he insisted.

“I hope so but…”

“But nothing,” he insisted. “Do you want to dance now?” He felt bad to cut her off, but he didn’t want to go further down what could be the one fly in the soup. Hanbyul deserved this better position, he had no doubt about that, even though getting it would take her away just as they were getting started. He hadn’t been thinking about that, flying high on the updraft of this budding relationship. 

Well. The interview process would take weeks, maybe even months, and when she got the job… well, they’d figure it out. They’d figure something out. 

She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, but wasn’t prepared for the way he swung her around into his arms. She clutched his arms, gasping and giggling. His smile dazzled her as he pulled her close to keep her steady and swayed her a few steps in each direction, bemused when she tripped over herself to keep up.

“This is already embarrassing.”

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing,” he argued. “I like you hanging onto me.” 

“You’re the most graceful man in the world and I’m like a baby duckling.”

He smiled so broadly he worried it would make his face ghastly and pressed it into her shoulder to laugh, “A baby duckling in a Minnie Mouse shirt–”

“Don’t tease me about my pajamas!” she complained and Jimin was sure his heart was going to explode. The urge to kiss her more was overwhelming but he’d rather be overwhelmed than overwhelm her, so instead he just steadied her on her feet and continued to shuffle her around into a simple two step, even though this was not the kind of dancing he’d had in mind. It made the fabric of her dress swirl; he hadn’t realized that. He was going to have to be so respectful to avoid glimpsing panties if he spun her.

“Don’t we need music?” she asked.

“Can’t you hear it?” he asked, and pulled her closer so he could hum, then softly sing a slower version of a song he loved, “All this is no coincidence. / Just just by my feeling, the whole world is different from yesterday. / Just just with your joy / When you called me / I became your flower / As if we were waiting / We bloom until we ache.”

She caught him by surprise with her kiss and he smiled into it; it was like she’d read his mind.

“I didn’t know you sang so beautifully,” she murmured. Then, “I also can’t do that.”

“Sunnie warned me.”

Her spluttering laughter resulted in her head against his shoulder as they swayed. He laughed into the silky strands of her hair. It broke the moment in a way and forged a new one, less frighteningly soft but just as intimate. Joyful. Blooming.

“I’ll put music on,” he suggested as they stepped apart.

“Are there more ciders?”

“How many ciders do you need to dance with me like you did in the club?” he teased and tossed her the keys to open the cabinet.

“At least eight…”

“No, did you really drink that much!?”

“I don’t know, I’m just taking stock of my nerves…”

He adjusted the dance music coming through the speakers and then gestured her closer, though she slid another bottle of cider into his hand instead of her fingers. 

“How did you open these?” he asked, because the bottle opener was still on the ground by the mirror.

“I have some talents too.”

“I want to know your talents,” he grinned. “Show me with the next one.”

So she did, laughing at his amazement as she used one bottle to pop the cap off the other. 

“How strong are your fingers?!” he cried, grabbing her hand as if looking for a secretly embedded bottle opener.

“Strong, I guess… I type a lot?”

“You type a lot and it gave you– our hands are almost the same size. Mine are small but strong but–”

“It’s just a trick. I’ll show you.”

“Hanbyul. Were you a big party girl?!”

“I was not,” she admitted. “But I used to drink a lot of beer just with dinner…”

“Really?! Beer?”

“I don’t know, there’s this kind of beer, I really liked the taste of it!”

They split this third bottle between them, both the light side of tipsy and giggling and moving more freely around the studio by then. Jimin wasn’t looking to be drunk and she declined another, but he couldn’t deny the thrill of knowing she trusted him with herself like this.  He liked the way it freed her up to move, swaying this way and that around him. He’d do this with her, again and again over time, until she felt comfortable dancing uninhibited with him, even without cider. He didn’t mind. He wouldn’t have even pushed except for the way she seemed to so wholeheartedly enjoy herself, dancing along to the music, sliding through his arms, winding her arms above her head. She was definitely not as awkward or rhythmless as she made it sound, only lacking in confidence. Jimin looked forward to helping her build that confidence. He was thrilled at the prospect of something he could give her in exchange for all she gave him.

It was nearing midnight and their dancing had grown quite a bit more intimate, nudged there by the close music, the sugary aftermath of the cider, and Jimin’s hands sliding more pointedly around her hips. He’d squeezed and she’d turned into him, pressing her face against his. 

“I think you’re a beautiful dancer,” he murmured.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not on two and a half ciders,” he argued. 

“You must really like me then,” she giggled and he nodded, nose brushing hers, “I do really like you. What you said is true.”

“You aren’t going to be too hung over for your rehearsal tomorrow, are you?”

“I’m not thinking about tomorrow at all,” he admitted. “It doesn’t matter. It’s worth it dancing with you.”

“This is the best club I’ve been to.” She stopped herself from saying anything further that might be stupid or embarrassing. I can’t believe I caught the eye of the hottest guy here. Her head swam from all the spinning and dancing and she knew she was hitting the unflattering side of sweaty but Jimin’s moves around her made her feel graceful and beautiful. The whole thing made her feel young and stupid and free in the best way possible and she hoped it was just as fun an escape for him too, this kind of date with her. There was something really freeing about being able to let loose like this and know with absolute certainty she was safe.

“Next time we’ll go to a museum,” he said.

“Next time?”

“Next date. Will you go with me?”

“Yes, but I’ll plan it.”

He nodded, then let the brush of their noses turn into a kiss. His hands slid down her side and a spark in the back of his mind urged take it further; you’re alone here; you could have even more than this with her. He wanted it, he did, but the tipsy yearning was not enough to make him rush anything with her. They were different now than they’d been yesterday, but he wanted to savor every step of the way with her. Even the suggestion of sex with her made him shudder with nervous anticipation, but it wouldn’t be tonight. He wanted to be sober and present and certain he could be good for her in the moment, sorely out of practice as he was. 

“What are you thinking?” she asked, because he was being so quiet and looking at her with this gaze like he wanted to consume her. She might have been projecting though because she most definitely wanted to be consumed by him.

Not that he was about to tell her his thoughts, and only ran his hands down her sides again as he slid around behind her to catch his breath, then lifted her silky hair from her neck just to see if it would be ok for him to kiss her there–

Heavy footsteps on the stairs made them spring apart and then the studio door flew open and Hoseok leapt through with a crowbar. Hanbyul only gasped sharply as Jimin leapt in front of her.

Hoseok promptly dropped the crowbar and demanded, “What are you doing here?” then let out a peal of nervous laughter.

“Why do you have a fucking crowbar?!” Jimin cried. 

“I was walking by and saw the lights on and thought someone broke in!”

“And you were going to brain them yourself?” Jimin huffed. He marched forward and took the crowbar and shook it, scolding, “Call the police, if you’re worried, don’t put yourself in danger over the studio! It’s only a building. So what if someone broke in to dance.”

“Yeah well…” Hoseok didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, just went suddenly quiet, gaze sliding from Jimin’s flushed face to Hanbyul’s. “I see.”

“You see nothing,” Jimin joked, then waved his hand and corrected, “No, no, you see me on a date that was going very well before you interrupted.”

“Hi Hanbyul,” Hoseok called. She had her mouth covered with her hand and just gave a small embarrassed wave.

“Recreating the club with no competition this time,” Jimin explained further. “So… go.”

Hoseok laughed and nodded, “Yeah yeah, I see that, ok. Make sure he treats you with respect, Hanbyul! Goodnight you love birds!”

Jimin delivered a playful kick to Hoseok’s backside as he scurried from the studio, his own heart still racing from the shock of the interruption. He’d have to scold Hoseok again tomorrow too. How dare his close friend risk potential injury just to investigate potential burglars?! And what burglars turned on music as they worked anyway?

“Sorry,” Jimin said, drawing close again, but now the music seemed too loud and Hanbyul had stopped dancing and seemed uninclined to start again.

“It’s ok. We probably should get home anyway, it’s late and I promised Sun-young I wouldn’t keep you out too late,” Hanbyul admitted.

“What?! She said that?” he cried, voice overly loud as he turned the music off so suddenly his ears rang.

Hanbyul shirked her shoulders and assured him, “It was cute. She’s such a sweet girl, Jimin. She told me to have fun on our date and not keep you up too late or you’ll be cranky tomorrow for your rehearsal.”

“Ah…”

“It kind of felt like she wanted me to know she’s ok with us going on a date,” Hanbyul admitted. “I didn’t know she knew but I guess you told her.”

“She’s very happy about it,” he told her. “She threatened me with a powerpoint if I didn’t ask you. Oh, uh… I hope it’s ok that she knows,” he realized. “I just couldn’t really hide it because she was so–”

“It’s completely your call, you know what’s best and I’ll just follow your lead. But you’re welcome about the powerpoints! That skill will be useful in school as she gets older,” Hanbyul insisted at his teasing.

“Yeah and god knows I don’t know how to make a powerpoint. It’s a miracle I ever get funding for this place.” He picked up their bottles and Hanbyul hit the lights when he gestured.

“Well you’re so charming to the patrons,” she reminded. “When you run into them at clubs.”

“Ha!”

“Maybe next time I can help you with a pitch,” she added. “So you don’t have to flirt in the club. Just an offer!” 

“With your business brain and my charm…”

She laughed at it too. He couldn’t tell if she’d sobered up or not been as affected by alcohol as he had thought. He didn’t actually know how well she held her cider, but she seemed peaceful and content as they rinsed the bottles out in the kitchenette off the office, and set them in recycling. He let her pull the gate down because she asked to, giggling when he grabbed it at the last second so it wouldn’t hit the ground too loudly.

“Oops.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a thing or two to teach you too,” he teased. 

Their hands found each other’s again on the walk home in mostly silence, companionable and quiet after the loud music in the studio. Even though there had been no crowds, Jimin felt tired, as if he’d truly come from the club. He supposed dinner, dessert, and dancing was a decently long first date. 

Hudu must have thought so too because he ruff ruff ruff grumbled when Hanbyul opened the door, kicking his back legs like he was threatening to pee right there in the hallway. Jimin insisted on walking out with them since it was so late, uttering his sincerest apologies to Hudu along the way. Their neighborhood was good and he wasn’t actually worried about Hanbyul meeting with trouble, but he wanted the satisfaction of kissing her goodnight at her door, knowing she was safely inside for the night.

When her lips lingered on his, he brushed her hair behind her ear and took a good long look at her face.

“You’re very charming, Jimin,” she murmured.

“I tried really hard to charm you,” he admitted with a broad grin. “I’m glad it worked. I’m rusty.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I think it’s natural. I bet you’ve been charming everyone since you were a child.”

“Hold onto that as you get to know me more,” he pleaded without any real fear behind it. She’d already seen him at his lowest, at his worst, and all before he’d even asked her out, yet she’d agreed to the date. 

“If you’re cranky tomorrow tell Sun-young it wasn’t my fault,” Hanbyul returned and for the hundredth time Jimin wondered if it was really ok to feel this happy, this fond, this close to someone so quickly. It was only their first date and shit, he was already in deep. 

He drew a deep breath once her door was closed, trying to find his head again. He couldn’t. He headed for his own apartment, braced for whatever ribbing his friends lobbed at him, because he was too high in the clouds to be bothered by it.   

Jimin was actually the one who had thought of the perfect demonstration for Sun-young; his daughter’s thrill that he was taking this serious and being involved would have been impossible to miss. 

“Tsuyoshi is cleaning coins,” Sun-young informed Hanbyul as they sat at the kitchen table surrounded by posterboard, construction paper, marker, punch out letters, and eggs. “Siwoo is drawing faces on balloons so people can give them salt and pepper beards. Sora is doing balloon rockets.”

“It’s a diverse list of demonstrations,” Hanbyul managed to get in through Sun-young’s excited nonstop chatter. She’d recited the whole list of demonstrations from memory before finishing with,

“And I’m sucking an egg into a bottle! It was Appa’s idea.”

“I’m full of great ideas,” Jimin agreed, though his attention was mostly on his laptop as he stood at the kitchen counter, ordering the supplies they needed for the rice cakes. 

“I just need to practice with the matches,” Sun-young said, picking up the box.

Hanbyul’s eyebrows raised as she asked gently, “Will you be doing that part or an adult?”

“I know how to light a match! I did it once.”

“When did you do it once?” Jimin immediately demanded, attention suddenly grabbed.

“One time.”

“With which uncle?”

“How did you know I was with an uncle?” Sun-young asked, then giggled and said, “I’m not a snitch.”

“Where did you learn ‘snitch’?! What is happening here?”

It was clear Sun-young got a kick out of trolling her father, and Hanbyul smiled to see the way they poked and teased and giggled with each other. It was a much happier relationship than Jimin had feared the shift away from dance might leave them with. Likewise, Hanbyul was just as relieved to find herself in the Park apartment today with nothing changed just because she’d gone a day with Jimin two days ago. Only two days! In a way everything had changed but in the way she had feared, nothing had. She’d made dinner to bring over like she had before, and Sun-young had begged to listen through Mango Crush’s new album while they started homework, and now the album was finished and they were only just getting to the science demonstration part, though they had another week and a half to finish the poster board with science notes and mater the experiment.

The difference was that Jimin’s hand brushed her back when he passed her in the kitchen, and she had a hard time not looking bashfully away any time he caught her eye, and didn’t his lips look extra kissable tonight?

But everything with Sun-young was normal, even though she knew they’d been on a date. She hadn’t said anything about it and the last thing Hanbyul would do was push. She was just glad to be here and things could go at whatever pace the Parks thought was right.

“Ok, Appa, you can light the paper and show us how to do it.”

“You’re the scientist here, not me,” he teased. 

“I know but you’re my assistant so you can do the dangerous part. I’ll allow it.”

“Ah, thank you, I appreciate it, the honor is all mine.” He bowed, then closed the laptop and pulled a chair over. 

Hanbyul playfully turned her undivided attention to him, propping her chin in her hand and giving him an expectant look like she was front row at a show.

“Let’s see the magic,” she demanded.

“It’s not magic, unnie, it’s science. Oooh that’s a good line,” Sun-young gasped. “I’m going to say that right after. Let me write that down.” She had a lined notebook with “DEMONSTRATION SCRIPT” written on the top line and used a fat marker to write down her own words, mumbling, “I’ll put it in order later.” The seriousness with which she approached this was beyond adorable.

Hanbyul vaguely remembered this science experiment from her school days but not enough to remember the way it worked. She’d just dutifully boiled and peeled the eggs like Jimin asked –well, she had offered after he had complained about how hard it was to get the shells off and shown her his butchered attempt. He’d looked so amazed when she’d shown him the trick with vinegar and cold water while Sun-young marched around the house pinching her nose. His hand had pressed against her lower back for just a moment before he’d pulled it away before Sun-young could see.

“Ok walk us through it,” Sun-young told Jimin. “I’ll take notes.” She looked quite the little scientist with her marker posed over the notebook.

“What you see here are three hard-boiled eggs with their shells removed. They’re real eggs. See? Here, touch the eggs,” Jimin said, holding the bowl around. Sun-young gave him a skeptical look, to which he explained, “You don’t want the audience accusing you of tricking them with fake eggs.”

“What kind of fake eggs look like that?”

“I don’t know, but people will doubt what they can’t believe. A true magician knows to get the audience bought in.”

“It’s science, not magic,” Sun-young repeated.

“Touch the eggs, Sunnie.”

She gave the eggs a good slap and giggled when they jiggled. Even though Hanbyul had peeled them herself, she dutifully touched the eggs and nodded.

“Oh yes, I see, very real.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Sun-young sighed and Hanbyul bit back her laugh.

“You have to work the audience for a demonstration just like you do for a dance recital,” Jimin admonished. “Now see here how the eggs do not fit into the glass bottle.” He took one and set it on the rim of a bottle. Sure enough, the egg just rested there, clearly too big to fit through the mouth.

Hanbyul scratched her neck and looked away, bemused by her own internal inappropriate narration. Oof. 

To say her thoughts about Jimin had been a little on the flushed side since the way he’d run his hands up and down her body, the way his lips had dragged against hers, the way their bodies had spun and swayed in what felt more graceful and intimate than it probably looked –well, it had been a sweaty weekend, temperatures unusually high outside for this time of year, so she couldn’t be blamed. It was either Jimin’s fault or mother nature’s.

“These are simple strips of paper. Nothing exciting. But what if I told you I can use a strip of paper to get the egg into the bottle? How do you think I’ll do that?”

“I already know,” Sun-young sighed when Jimin waited for suggestions.

“It’s called audience involvement,” he told her.

Sun-young turned to Hanbyul and asked, “Is that what you do?”

“Hm… it depends on the audience and what I’m trying to accomplish. But yes, getting audience input can be a good way to make sure they’re invested. You have to be prepared to move it forward in case no one suggests anything though, a lot of time audiences are shy.”

“Excellent point,” JImin barged ahead. “I won’t leave you in confusion any longer. Watch as I take this paper and light it on fire!” The way he emphasized fire made Sun-young erupt into giggles. “Er, assistant Hanbyul, can you hold the paper? Maybe we should get a lighter instead of matches…”

Hanbyul held the paper by the end as he struck a match and held it to set the end aflame, then quickly took it from her hands and dropped it into the bottle where it began to curl and smoke. He plopped one of the eggs on top and all three leaned in to wait and watch. 

“I think we’re supposed to be saying what’s happening,” Sun-young reminded.

“Oh right. Yeah, rewind, we should say… this is an experiment about air pressure,” Jimin said. “There’s air pressure pushing down on this egg on the bottle, but there’s also air within the bottle.”

Suddenly the egg slurped through the bottle with a ‘pop’.

All three erupted in cheers and applause as if they hadn’t known exactly what was going to happen. There really was something magical and cool about it, the egg now hidden from view in the smoky haze circling inside the bottle.

“I think you can just explain what we saw now,” Hanbyul suggested. “And then maybe do it a second time so people who are interested know what they’re watching. That way you get the surprise and the explanation.”

Sun-young nodded and tapped her marker, “I like it, I like it. So explain what we saw, Appa. I don’t understand this one yet but I need to know everything so I can take questions.”

“Ok, there is air within the bottle and what we want to do is create a vacuum within the bottle that will pull down on the egg while the air pressure above is pushing down on the egg because that pull creates uniform pressure on the egg –well, back up, we should say first that if you try to smush the egg into the bottle, it will just smush the egg, because you’ll be applying uneven pressure on the egg wherever your fingers press and the air within the bottle is resisting, pushing up on the egg,” Jimin said.

“Maybe we should have a second bottle where I do that first,” Sun-young suggested. “I can just smush the egg so they see it for themselves.” 

“Good idea. So here, a vacuum of decreased air pressure inside the bottle will pull on the whole egg, tugging it down in one piece.”

“How is the fire making a vacuum though?” Hanbyul asked.

“If I remember correctly, the air expands and pushes up around the egg, that’s why we saw it wobbling and the egg acts like a stopper so more air molecules can slide in. It means there are fewer air molecules now inside the bottle than above. And the fire does burn some of the oxygen molecules up.”

“We have to be sure,” Sun-young said, very seriously. “We should research.”

“I want to watch it closely again and see the wobbles,” Hanbyul added.

Sun-young made a face and asked with concern, “How do we get the egg out now though?” She lifted the bottle and tilted it to the side, blowing as the smoke cleared and the scorched paper tumbled out but the whole egg rolled around inside.

“Oh you’re going to like this part, but an adult has to do it,” Jimin said, taking the bottle from her. “We do the same thing, we need the air pressure in the bottle to be stronger than outside. So watch this.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and Sun-young and Hanbyul both stared transfixed as he blew a lungful of air into the bottle, which rocketed the egg into his mouth. He spit it out as they howled with laughter.

“If you just do a little air, it’ll ooze out but it’s funnier to pop it out fast,” he explained.

“Unless you choke yourself in front of everyone,” Hanbyul laughed. 

“That will still be funny,” Sun-young admitted. “We can talk about science safety if that happens and how it’s not smart to use air pressure to shoot an egg into your mouth.”

“Thank you, I love to be made an example of,” Jimin chuckled. Then he held his hands out and asked, “Well, what do you think, will that work? Sun-young you can present and I’ll be your assistant who does the dangerous parts while you explain what’s happening.”

Sun-young looked to Hanbyul, who agreed, “It’s pretty cool. I bet everyone will remember it.”

“Yeah, I like it.” Sun-young gave them a determined nod. “Ok let’s write a script and we have to explain the whole thing on the poster board and I need another bottle and I think we’ll need more eggs too. Appa, you can check with Miss Choi to make sure we’re allowed to use fire but I think it’s ok as long as you’re doing it, because sometimes she uses fire for things too.”

“We have our marching orders,” Jimin laughed and began to explain the science again, slowly, so Sun-young could write it down. His foot nudged Hanbyul’s beneath the table and she glanced at him, cheeks warmed by his look. Just as he began his explanation though, his phone rang.

“Who is it?” Sun-young asked, straining to see the phone.

“Not for you! It’s Halmeoni,” he added before rising from the table to answer, “Eomma! How are you?” 

Hanbyul tried not to listen and just focus on recalling Jimin’s words for Hanbyul. She’d met Jimin’s mother before, a very nice woman who clearly adored her son and granddaughter. She loved how familiar Jimin sounded talking to his parents, who he clearly had a good relationship with. Mostly his side of the conversation was too simple to eavesdrop on anyway, but he didn’t leave them wondering for long.

As soon as the call ended he explained, “Well, Halmeoni and Harabeoji want to come next weekend to help us make the rice cakes and then stay all the way through your demonstration and our recital.”

“YAY!” Sun-young cheered, leaping onto her knees in her seat. This didn’t seem surprising to Hanbyul at all, that they would want to come for their son’s and granddaughter’s dance performance. 

“And um, your other grandparents want to go to both as well,” he said, which had Sun-young just nodding as she continued to write. Hanbyul noted the glance he sent her direction but wasn’t sure what it meant –unless, she realized, it meant he thought it was actually not a great idea for her to attend a family event just yet.

Which made total sense! This romance between them was new, and it made perfect sense that Jimin might not be in a rush to introduce her not only to his own parents, but for Ga Subin’s parents to see him starting something new with another woman. It was most important for Sun-young to have her supportive grandparents there; that was more important than anything.

Though the subject dropped then, Hanbyul was quick to bring it up again much later in the evening, after they’d taken a family walk to let Hudu toilet and then watched an episode of a cartoon to let Sun-young decompress from homework, and then Jimin hugged and kissed her on the other side of teeth brushing and a shower. 

“I think she’s already asleep. Science really wears her out,” Jimin announced as he returned to the dining table where Hanbyul had just finished tidying the leftover homework supplies.

“I added a sticky note to the eggs in the fridge that says ‘Do Not Eat’ so you don’t forget,” she told him.

“Thanks but you didn’t have to do all this cleaning up.”

“And leave it for you after you put her to bed? It’s not a big deal,” Hanbyul assured him.

“Well thank you–”

“Just like it’s not a big deal if you’d rather I sit out the recital and science day,” she quickly added just as his hand touched her arm. “I completely understand, with your parents and Ga Subin’s parents joining.”

“Ah…”

“Of course I would love to support you both but I really do understand.”

“It’s very early,” he mused.

“Exactly, we’ve only been on one date.”

“I had hoped our second date could be this weekend but it won’t be possible to hide that from my parents.”

Hanbyul nodded and insisted, “I completely understand. There’s no rush, I can plan our second date for after your parents have gone home.”

“No, I mean…” His face screwed up adorably, and then his expression shifted and he asked, “Do you think it’s too early? It’s too early, right?”

“I…”

“I mean, it’s only been one date. It’s too early,” he decided, looking to the side.

“If you have any doubts about it, there’s truly no reason to rush the introduction,” Hanbyul insisted.

“I don’t have doubts about it,” he admitted. “But is that crazy? I mean, my parents have met you before. They thought you were lovely. They’d be happy to spend time with Sunnie while you and I have a date, it would just mean telling them that I’m dating you and I just wonder if it’s too soon for you to want to– if it would make you feel overwhelmed that we’ve gone on one date and I’m already telling my parents about our… relationship.”

“Won’t Sun-young say something anyway?” Hanbyul suddenly realized.

Jimin slapped a hand to his forehead and laughed, “Yes, probably. I didn’t think about that…”

“I’m not afraid of you telling your parents,” Hanbyul assured him, though there was certainly a thread of fear laced through the fluttering in her chest. What if they liked me as your neighbor but not your girlfriend? He hadn’t said she was his girlfriend, and the word was suddenly too bright to look at. She felt important in his life and close to him and she didn’t need a label–

“It’s ok if I tell them you’re my girlfriend?” he asked, head dropped so that he looked up at her through his eyelashes, as if he needed to seduce her to convince her!

“Am I your girlfriend?” she stammered out, startled by his directness. 

“Ah, am I rushing you?” he cried and looked so frightened by it that Hanbyul rushed forward to grab his hands.

“Our timeline is all crazy,” she told him. “I don’t feel rushed, but I do feel a little crazy.”

“Me too and I just don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing you into something that you aren’t ready for –there’s no pressure here, Hanbyul. I can even tell my parents to mind their own business if you’d rather I don’t use the 여 word yet… Yeah, let’s just– I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be springing this on you so fast,” he apologized, even bowed a little to her.

“Jimin, stop. I came into this knowing we’d be a little out of order. I came into this with eyes open. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to rush into anything to keep my attention –I mean, I’ve been pining for years at this point, I can be patient.” She meant it as a joke but it wasn’t a joke and immediately she realized she had said too much. 

He laughed and pressed his hands to her face and kissed her forehead, murmuring, “Ah, Hanbyul, you’re the funniest woman I’ve ever met.”

“No one ever thinks I’m funny!”

“Have you really been pining for me? Tell me more.”

“Absolutely not.”

He slid his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest, and sighed, “What a lucky man I am.”

She hated to potentially dump water on the moment but still felt a niggling concern and pressed, “Well even if you’re comfortable telling your parents that you’re seeing someone and even introducing me as that someone, what about Sun-young’s other grandparents? I wouldn’t want to make them uncomfortable either.”

To her relief, Jimin did not let go. Just rested his cheek against her hair and considered this.

“I think it will be harder for them, because just like Sun-young growing up, it’s proof life is moving forward without Subin,” he admitted. “If you do want to go –and I do want you there, to be clear– I’ll talk to them before so that they aren’t surprised, and even if it’s hard on their hearts, I think they will quickly see how good you are to Sunnie, and how much she adores you.”

“I don’t want to make things harder on grieving parents.”

“If you’re uncomfortable with them, I don’t want to push you. Maybe just… think about it. And I’ll talk to them so they know and then at least everyone is aware.”

“All right, that sounds right. There’s time to think about it.”

“A whole week and a half,” he joked.

“How long is that on our timeline?”

“Months,” he snickered, and dropped his mouth to hers. Hanbyul wondered for how long each kiss would feel like the first time and thought it might always feel that way, her heart might always flip like that when his fingers brushed her jaw, angling her face. 

Jimin suddenly sprang back and Hanbyul didn’t understand why until she spied Sun-young standing on the other side of the table. She hadn’t even heard the girl approach but Jimin had and now scratched his cheek and did his best to look like they hadn’t very obviously just been kissing.

“I just want some water,” Sun-young said. 

“Oh, um… ok, sure, let me… get that for you…”

“I can get it myself,” she said, and then kept her gaze on them as she shuffled past to the kitchen, her lips pursed into a tight-lipped smile. They remained frozen as she clanked around the kitchen, pulling a cup from a cupboard, ice from the freezer, filling it with water. Hanbyul thought she might be intentionally taking a long time, furthered by the playful way she suddenly poked her head out of the kitchen before stepping out.

“Ok,” Sun-young said, shuffling slowly past. “Goodnight, Appa. Goodnight, unnie.”

“Good night, Sun-young.”

She glanced over her shoulder one more time, mouth pursed again like she was just checking to see what they were doing. They listened to her shuffling steps down the hall and then heard her door close.

“What a brat,” Jimin laughed, the breath rushing from his lungs.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even hear her–”

“Yes because she didn’t want us to hear her,” Jimin assured her. “She’s going to be teasing me about this for days, I know it.”

“Well… I do think she takes after you in a lot of ways,” Hanbyul told him, which only made him laugh harder, and then box her into another hug.

“Maybe so.”

“Hudu and I had better go.”

“Ah, where is he?”

Hudu had been quiet and unobtrusive the whole evening, alternating between lounging on the rug with his toys or sleeping on Sun-young’s feet. Calling him now did nothing, but a quick search eventually revealed him curled up on a pile of clothing in Sun-young’s room, sound asleep. He just stared at Hanbyul when she tried to coax him out, until Jimin snuck in –Sun-young was already snoring– and carried him out.

“What a relief our kids get along,” he grinned and handed Hudu over. 

“The two of them might have planned this all from the beginning,” Hanbyul suggested, which Jimin could only nod to. He walked her to the door, a hand familiarly on her lower back, and kissed her there one more time –quicker this time, since Hudu immediately tried to join in, licking the underside of their chins and setting them both to laughing loud enough to wake up a neighbor.

Then he watched her until she was safely in her apartment, heart hammering in her chest, Hudu marching off, clearly peeved to have been disturbed from his comfortable nap. 

She’d expected the timeline to be weird, but had Jimin really asked her to be his girlfriend two days after their first date? She thought she’d agreed but wasn’t sure if she’d made it clear that her answer was unequivocally yes. Had he understood that, or was that part of what he wanted her to think about?

Part of her had thought that going on a date with Jimin would finally let her settle, that after she finally got to kiss him her pining would relax and things could be simple and comfortable. Being at their apartment for dinner had almost convinced her of it. But Hanbyul had never felt so spun up in her life, never more excited about seeing what the next day might bring. Her sister was going to flip, and at the rate things were moving with Jimin, she’d better call her soon!

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