#hint: his birthday was recently

[savvysquid]

Character sheet thingy I'm working on

[mv1simp]

Based on darling 🍑 🛒 anon’s request: max x inexperienced best friend!reader who hears him complaining about how hard it is to find a girl who’ll match his freak in bed 😼

Birthday Sex ♥️

Max Verstappen x Best Friend!Reader

don’t need candles or cake, just need your body to make (birthday sex, it’s the best day of the year, girl)

As Max’s best friend since childhood, you know him better than anyone. You���re determined to find the best birthday gift after he’s outdone you the past three years. Just when you’ve given up all hope of beating him you overhear him complaining that none of his recent girlfriends let him hit it just the way he likes. Bingo - you’ve just thought of the perfect gift!

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom!max, inexperienced best friend!reader who gets railed lol, size kink, anal, creampie, sloppy drunk sex!!, WC 3.3k

You slump your head down on the table and groan, making your best friend Selena quirk as brow at you as she sips her strawberry iced matcha. Across the room, the elderly librarian scowls and points to the sign clearly labelled “University Library - Quiet Zone for Finals Study”. You roll your eyes and drag Selena away to some dusty bookshelf’s well away from the old crone. You still haven’t found a present for Max? Your friend muses as she noisily slurps her drink, eyeing the dubious titles on the ancient books. Shaking your head, you whine about how you’ve spent weeks thinking of what to gift the F1 driver. You and Max have been best friends since childhood, having grown up literally 2 doors down from one another. After getting over the initial boy/girl germs phase, you’d both connected over a like for video games which had turned into a loyal and supportive friendship into teens and adulthood. And of course, you both strongly believed in work hard, play hard, and frequently would be seen doing multiple shots together out in the Monaco clubs after a race weekend or post exam season.

Despite all the time you’d spend together, things had never crossed the line past friendship. It was always heavily speculated in the media, of course, as well as constant teasing from the other paddock members and your friends and family, but both you and Max dismissed it. He treated you like one of his guy friends, inviting you over to game or come onto his private jet with his other mates to fly out for a race weekend. And of course, being good friends with a millionaire driver meant being spoilt, especially on your birthday. Max always picked up on your hints and outdid himself every year. Last birthday you’d had not one but two custom made jewellery sets delivered from Cartier when you’d mentioned them in passing, and the year before that unlimited VIP box seats to your favourite soccer team and access to his private jet to get you there.

So that’s why you’re desperate to find Max the perfect present for his birthday this year. You want to spoil him just like he spoils you! But he’s been busy with his new girlfriend, a Spanish model he met in St Tropez, and you in the final semester of your English Lit degree and you haven’t had a chance to hear what’s he’s been interested in lately.

You’ve thought up countless ideas, but what do you get a man who literally can afford anything he wants? You’ve cycled through all of his likes, finding that he already owns everything you could possibly buy. Your friend Serena is useless as she watches you plead up at the ceiling (dramatic, sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures) asking for any Gods watching above to send you a sign of the right gift. You could always just get him a vibrator, she joked as she slurped her iced coffee. You know, like the one I got you? Have you been using it? Seriously, we need to end this dry spell and get you dicked down- At that point the old crone of a librarian had let out a scandalised gasp as she overheard and kicked the pair of you out.

You’ve almost given up completely and drop by his apartment a few days before his birthday, ready to just directly beg him to tell you what he wants and put you out of your misery. You let yourself in, already familiar with his spare key hiding location for years. And then you stumble across a conversation that’s not meant for your ears as Max’s deep voice carries around the corner. He’s on video chat with one of his mates playing an e-sim racing game, but they’re definitely not talking about racing strategy.

I don’t know mate, why is it so hard these days to find a chick who’ll let you hit it raw? one of his friends complain over the speakers. Your eyes widen, hand rushing up to stifle your gasp as you realise they’re talking about what they like in the bedroom. You and Max had never talked about something like this, and you’re about to turn and leave - when your best friend says something you’d never expected him to say. He snorts, murmuring that sure, getting to finish inside was good but the real challenge was convincing a girl to let you fuck her up the ass.

His friend laughs on the screen, wholeheartedly agreeing, saying Ah, I see even a F1 driver can’t find a girlfriend who’s into that freaky shit, huh? You miss Max’s reply because his cats, Sassy and Jimmy, have started to walk over to you curiously. You hightail it out of his apartment, desperate not to get caught eavesdropping with your blushing face and jumbled thoughts. You only let yourself calm down once you’re in the safety of your much smaller apartment, sinking into your sofa and recounting what you’d heard. You and Max had never ever talked about sex, even though he treated you like his guy friends, that was a line you’d just never crossed. You’d never have guessed he was into something so naughty like not using protection or…what had he said? Up the ass?

You’re not 100% sure on what he means, with your rather…limited sexual experiences. While Max regularly slept with multiple different flings and models, your hook ups could be counted on one hand. You’d lost your virginity, of course, to an awkward college boyfriend that Max had hated and eventually told you to break up with. But apart from a few sloppy handjobs or quick drunk blowjobs, you really hadn’t explored much else. You were jealous of how much more experienced Max was than you, having sometimes overheard him and his latest girlfriend celebrating a race win from a neighbouring hotel room. But it looked like despite all of the girls he’d been with, he wasn’t getting the satisfaction he wanted in bed. And apparently what satisfied the Dutch Lion was fucking girls who let him take the condom off or use their ass to his liking.

Determined to find out more about what exactly Max wanted, you open the private browser of your laptop and type in a porn site you’d looked at a couple times before. You navigate to the tags, scrolling until you see the category you wanted to research. As you wait for the top trending video in the #Anal section to load you bite your lip, suddenly nervous. Why did Max say he wanted that? It sounded dirty and painful and just wrong. Was there something you were missing?

Then the video started playing and within seconds you’d lost any inhibitions you had. Hypnotised, you watch the screen where a small, tan skinned girl is face down and ass up, with a much larger man running his tongue obscenely through her asscheeks. She’s moaning wantonly, clearly enjoying it, and then his sizeable dick is bouncing out against her bum, messily pounding her pussy first, and then - and then-

Your doe eyes widen, fixed on the laptop with a gasp as his tip slides past her pussy and into her other hole, the one you hadn’t even known could fit a guy’s dick inside it! You’re enraptured, not wanting to blink as you watch her asshole get completely ruined. Your lace thong is rapidly soaked by your wetness as you start panting, finding yourself turned on in a way you’d never ever been before. This is what your Maxie liked? It was so hot, you think sluttily, shamelessly slipping your tiny manicured fingers into your panties to finger yourself at the forbidden thought of you and Max acting out the activities in the video. You cum far too quickly, head tossed back in pleasure. Afterwards, you know you should feel embarrassed and guilty, but instead all you can think about is how badly you want to try having sex with your other tight hole.

And you know exactly what to gift your best friend. Max deserves to get exactly what he wants, after all.

Soon you’re watching dirty video after video every night, telling yourself you need to practise the positions and expressions yourself. But really you’re just addicted to the moaning of girls getting their asses abused by huge cocks, or having the coy smirks wiped off their faces and instead rolling their eyes back as their pussies are pumped full of cum. The bullet vibrator Serena had gifted you as a joke now finds itself making its way in between your dripping thighs, as you cum nightly to the fantasy of being able to provide Max with that pleasure. If his latest girlfriend of the month wasn’t willing to put out for him, you certainly had no problem helping your best friend out instead.

You make sure you’re ready by the time his birthday party rolls around, being celebrated in style aboard his yacht that’s docked in Ibiza tonight. You’ve chosen your outfit carefully, a tight red minidress that shows off your plump ass and tits, complete with strappy high heels. It highlights your ample curves, very different from his usual fling’s stick thin figures. And speaking off - you knew that he must have broken it off with his latest girlfriend judging by the fact that she wasn’t here tonight. Your suspicions are confirmed when a mutual friend tells you he dumped her just two days ago, citing a difference in personalities. More like a difference in kinky preferences, you thought deviously. You just needed to confirm that Max was willing to cross the line of no return in your friendship. Judging from the way his gaze had turned dark and hungry when he’d seen you step onto his boat, roaming over your figure, you were pretty confident that you’d be able to proceed in unveiling your gift.

As the party continues well into the night, you join everyone in dancing and drinking, using the tequila shots as an excuse to why you’re suddenly grinding your fat ass back into Max’s crotch amidst the crowded makeshift dancefloor. When you hear Max laugh in delight, strong hands possessively curling around your hips to keep you against him, you know he wanted you, too.

So when the last of the partygoers are heading off the yacht to join the others in the Ibiza clubs, you take Max’s hand in yours to tug him away, back onto the other side of the yacht where you’re well away from anyone’s eyes and facing the night ocean. He willingly goes, checking out your curvy ass from behind, his own face flushed from the drinks he’d had. You’re tipsily giggling that he had to open your present! as you gently push him onto the outdoor couch, plucking your cutely wrapped small gift box and offering it to him. As he opens it, you eagerly sit down by his side, pressing in close to his warm, toned chest with the excuse of its cold, Maxie.

You don’t miss how his gaze drops to your plush tits, which bounce with every movement and show off your hardened nipples as you’d chosen to only wear a skimpy lace bralette underneath. He easily plays along with your excuse, wrapping his thick arm around you to pull you onto his lap and settle against his broad figure. You giggle again when he finally opens the gift box, only to find it…empty? He looks up at you, laughing as he assumed you’d forgotten to pack your present in your drunk antics tonight.

But the plan in your mind is razor sharp as you breathily press kisses to his stubbled cheeks, making his lustful gaze flicker to your lips as the tension between you two grows. You whisper that you hadn’t forgotten, in fact, you’d gotten him the perfect gift, exactly what he’d been complaining to his gaming friends about not being able to find. The present was just inside you, was all!

Max is still adorably confused, not entirely sure what you were referring to as you slide off his lap after pressing a barely there kiss to his lips. He watches you curiously as you press your blushing cheeks into the sofa and stick your thick ass up in the air. Your already tiny minidress slides down your hips, exposing your soaked, lacey thong that barely covered the true surprise - a cute heart shaped butt plug. Max’s jaw drops and for a minute he thinks he must be dreaming, or had gotten super drunk, or this was some sick joke his friends had set him up for. Until you seductively jiggle your hips at him, fat ass bouncing, your sweet voice almost innocently asking if he likes his gift?

Oh, I fucking love it, sweetheart he assures you with a wicked grin, once he realises just what you were giving him. It’s so much better than anything I could have asked for. Your pleased giggle quickly turns into pleased moans as he plays with the toy, teasing you by slowly pulling it out a bit before sliding it back in. He pulls his raging erection out of his pants, telling you to come here and suck me off, getting his cock ready to fuck you. You obediently lick up and down his length, covering it with your messy drool and lip gloss, making sure it’s as wet as possible. His muscular neck is thrown back against the sofa as he moans above you, a strong hand tangled through your curls as he tries to control the pace but can't resist your talented mouth teasing his over sensitive tip. He almost cums from your enthusiasm, hips stuttering and he swears in dutch as he has to forcefully pull on your dark locks to move your plush lips off him. You cheekily grin up at him, winking, asking was that too much for him?

He tosses you around in half a second, making you giggle into the soft pillow as he raises your ass into the air, growling that he’d have done this a long time ago if he knew what a needy slut you secretly were. You shake your hips enticingly at him, ass bouncing, enjoying how his sexy voice got even deeper and accented when he was dirty talking. Swearing at your tempting display, he delivers a strong smack to your cheeks, and then a second one for good measure, before nudging his cockhead up against your dripping slit. He hushes your whines, telling you that he needed to get a taste of your pussy, the one he’d been dreaming about when you’d stay the night after a late movie and rub your ass into his erection in your sleep, edging him for hours. Did you even know how many times he had to go jerk off to the mental image of your ass in the shower?

You moan in pleasure as he fucks you sloppily, whispering about the time he hadn’t been able to resist and pulled your panties down in your sleep, wanting to jerk off to the real thing and leaving his cum all over your caramel skin. Th-that’s soo hot, Maxie you whine, already feeling fucked out of your mind. Go-go on, cum instead me, you say breathlessly. I started the pill just for your present tonight!

Groaning at your naughty confession, he pumps one last, deep thrust before he's tensing above you, a bruising grip on your hips as he holds you still to drain his load deep inside you. He's panting deeply as his head comes to rest on the back of your neck, the two of you enjoying your blissful comedown together for a few minutes. You can’t believe how heated things have gotten tonight after being friends for years. We could have been hooking up this whole time, it was so good Maxiee you whine against his lips as he presses his tongue into your pouting mouth.

Chuckling at your eagerness, he filthily whispers that you could start by giving him the next part of his birthday gift, hmm? You nod breathlessly, unable to say no to your precious Maxie. He palms your juicy asscheeks with his large palms, squeezing at your flesh greedily. Soon enough he’s fingering your tight, winking hole from above you, telling you to hold your asscheeks apart for him as he messily spits right over where he plans to fuck you. Just the tip, right, Maxie? You repeat again, feeling unsettled with not knowing what he was doing behind you, when he stopped to stare at your cute little hole for a few minutes. Your blushing face is still buried into the cushions as your nails dig into your bouncing ass and hold it apart for him. I've never had anything...inside there before, you say, cheeks warming. So you can't stretch it out, okay, I read that it-

Yeah, yeah baby Max says distractedly, hypnotised by your inviting tight hole that is filling him with a growing desire to ruin it every passing second. Whatever you say. Dousing himself in lube from the supply he keeps stashed in between the couch cushions, he approaches you from behind, his erect cock standing stiff as you jiggle your hips. His tip nudges against your back entrance, making you moan excitedly at foreign but tingly feeling. Then he’s thrusting his leaking cockhead in and out of your hole, and you’re babbling incoherently, your face turned to the side as you gasp mouthfuls of air. Oh, it feels sooo good, mmhhh, yes Maxie-

He growls approvingly at your desperate whining, smacking your red asscheeks again and again to make them bounce. Feels amazing, right baby? he hums into your ear, pressing his abs down against your back. The new position makes his cock accidentally slide in just a little more and you arch your back more when the tingly feeling gets stronger as he slips a large hand around to toy with your sensitive clit. You’ll let me put in just a little bit more, right baby? Max whispers huskily, his hungry eyes taking in your drooling, fucked out face. You were in so much bliss he doubts you’d be able to say no to anything he asked for. O-ok, a little bit more- Ohh! Oh fuck!

You cry out as he doesn’t hesitate to slip inside you even further. It’s a good thing you can’t see the filthy mess behind you because Max has bullied an easy third of his rigid, veiny shaft inside your gummy walls. He groans against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he praises how good you take his fat cock, better than any of his girlfriends. He knows just what to say to have you seeing stars as he continues to shove more and more of himself into your tight hole. Fuck schat, giving me the best birthday treat ever, I’m gonna be addicted.

You’re on Cloud 9-, pink tongue poking out of your mouth and drooling all over the cushion, pretty doe eyes rolled all the way back as Max pounds into your all too willing body. You can barely reply coherently when he croons that he’s just gonna slide a bit more in, that’s right, just like that, you can take it for him, right?

His whole cock is buried inside your ass now, beads of sweat running own his toned abs. And soon you’re screaming his name as he greedily fucks you, grunting with pleasure at each thrust. You can only cross your fingers and hope none of your friends come back from the club early.

—————————————————————————

A/N: back to my old FILTHY ways after writing a 9.5K mafia fic just to give u all whiplash will finally be posting part 2 of earned it v soon with dedicated hot husband max hehehe 😝

[not-a-space-alien]

I've seen a lot of "You have to communicate directly/don't expect other people to read your mind" posts going around tumblr lately and while I really do appreciate them because it's a skill a LOT of people need to work on, I do want to remind everyone to please meet people halfway sometimes.

I recently read a story on Reddit about a guy's pregnant wife texting him "I'm craving donuts but we don't have any in the house 😔" and he DIDN'T stop to pick up donuts on the way home from work. Everyone was taking his side because "she needs to communicate" and "he's not a mind reader" and "How was he supposed to know she wanted him to get donuts???" People, ffs, why on earth would she text him that while he was at work if not because she wanted him to get donuts? I was flabbergasted everyone was taking his side. "How was he supposed to know??" What? Like yeah it's true she didn't say "I want you to get me donuts" with those exact words in that exact order but the reason why people get upset if they hint they want you to do something and you don't do it is because they feel like you don't care about them and aren't actively thinking about their feelings. Especially in a marriage or LTR they are in a situation where the assumption is you care about filling the other person's needs.

Someone who loves and cares about someone will get the donuts "without being asked" just because their partner expresses a want or need. That's what someone is fishing for when they say "Aaaah I'm craving donuts 🥺🥺🥺" It's less about the donuts and more about feeling cared for. Sometimes straight up asking "Can you get me donuts?" defeats the purpose.

Also, women are typically socialized to communicate this way because they're punished socially for being too direct. I've heard that people of color, especially black people, often do this too because they're likely to be branded as "aggressive" if they're too direct with white people. So it might be a good idea to be a bit intersectional if we're trying to encourage people to be more direct.

Take the stereotypical example of a wife gets a new haircut and then gets upset that the husband doesn't notice. She's not literally mad at him for not saying the exact words "I like your new haircut." She's upset because she feels like he doesn't look at her and appreciate the efforts she's putting in anymore.

Obviously this will vary widely depending on the nature of your relationship with someone, but especially when it comes to intimate partnerships, there are certain things your significant other should not have to tell you directly. It's probably safe to assume your wife or husband wants a birthday present even if they don't ask for it. It's probably safe to assume your bf or gf would appreciate a valentine's day present or a compliment without them having to literally ask for it, unless they explicitly say otherwise.

This is difficult for a lot of neurodivergent people to learn manually if it's not instinctual and they didn't learn it growing up (lord knows I didn't) and yes, it's true that most people (especially NT people) should learn to communicate more directly. But also, your relationships would probably benefit from learning to read indirect cues and just pick up the donuts on the way home because you heard your wife is craving them. Sometimes what someone wants is for you to think about what they're feeling and what they want and do it without them asking directly. It's up to you whether or not you do that, but sometimes that is asking. I think this is what people generally mean when they say their partner is "thoughtful."

[venusbyline]

Celebration in Winterfell — Jacaerys Velaryon.

— summary: Jacaerys notices his wife's fears about the childbirth of their first child and takes her to celebrate her name day in Winterfell, his wife's homeland.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark!reader

— type: fluff

— word count: 752

— tags/warnings: female!reader, pregnant!reader, husband!Jacaerys, cuddling & snuggling, fear of childbirth, married couple, established relationship, half-brother!Cregan mentioned, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession). no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

❥ Jacaerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist

— author's notes: A gift for my sweet @thesongoficeandfir3, who's celebrating her birthday ❤️❤️ Definitely I'm not a fluff writer but I tried this time for you lmaooo. Happy birthday pookie 💞💞

— crossposting: AO3

❥ about me • main masterlist

Visiting Winterfell that week had been your husband Jacaerys’ idea. A way to celebrate your name day in your homeland, with the people you were always close to before moving to Dragonstone to seal the marriage union between the two of you.

He wanted to present you with something that was more important than a grand feast with random ladies and lords, and he also did not want to be so superfluous as to give you only jewelry at this crucial moment during your pregnancy.

Jacaerys could see the look of melancholy in your face every time you saw his family gathered around you, all laughing and joking with each other. Ever since you married the crown prince, you had become part of that family bond they shared. You were like an older sister to all of Jace’s brothers and quite like a daughter to Rhaenyra as well. But there was an obvious sadness in your eyes during your recent dinners together and you were always looking away when his siblings teased each other in a funny and friendly way. You had even become quieter than usual, as if you were just existing there at the table, not wanting to interact with anyone for a while.

Lucerys was the first to notice his sister-in-law's distant behaviour and he quickly informed his mother. Then Rhaenyra asked Jacaerys if he had noticed anything different about you or if your marriage had cooled a bit in those last few days. When Jacaerys felt thoughtful, confessing that you had been gradually distancing yourself as the moons passed and that you were constantly sending letters always destined for the North, it was not difficult for Rhaenyra to understand what must have been going through your mind.

You were missing your family, your home... and all of this was growing stronger with each passing second as your pregnancy progressed. It was something that Jacaerys could not help you with a simple conversation. Your fears were valid, feeling worried due to the fact that you would not have a chance to see your homeland and loved ones again before the childbirth of your firstborn.

"Are not you cold? Are you sure, my love?" Jacaerys asked during the hour of the owl, the first night of your stay. There was a hint of tension in his tone, but you understood the main reason for his question. Concern about the health of his wife and his child.

"I was used to it, my dear husband. A little time living in Dragonstone would never be enough to rid me of my love for the North." You teased Jace, who rolled eyes playfully, pulling you closer on the bed, smelling the sweet scent of your dark hair and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Jacaerys’ palms caressed your round pregnant belly, enjoying the small kick he felt through your skin. The baby always moved when Jacaerys was near, almost as if it was desperate to be born soon and meet its father. “I bet it is a girl.”

Jace let out a laugh as he felt another strong kick even through your white nightgown and the layers of fur blankets to protect your from the heavy cold of the North. "Did you see? She agrees with me."

You rolled the eyes at your husband’s childish joke, forgetting even the fearful thoughts that flooded your mind. Rhaenyra was frequently joking about her firstborn being a needy boy and you always agreed with her. Jace felt in love since the day he met you. Now, he was braving the cold of Winterfell so he could make you happy on your name day. The next day he might even go hunting with your half-brother Cregan and bring back something special for your feast, caught by himself.

"I am so happy to celebrate another year of my life here, with my whole family." You smiled at Jacaerys, snuggling a little closer into his embrace, leaving soft kisses on his jawline. " I mean... almost my whole family, because I am missing your brothers and your mother."

"We can have a second celebration in Dragonstone when we return..." Jacaerys suggested, caressing your pretty hair with one hand, the other remaining on your pregnant belly. "Whatever my beautiful and gorgeous wife wishes. Because I love you with all my fire, and I will do anything to celebrate your health, to show how grateful I am for the existence of the most perfect woman of the Seven Kingdoms."

[writing-mlm]

Is it real?

Summary: It’s thanksgiving, current plan: ignore your family, backup plan: stay for Alfred’s left overs. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader Wc: 7.1k A/n: I saw comments asking for part 2 so… rushed this out bc Thanksgiving is like… two(??) days away Warning: mentions of homophobic family but they’re silent the whole time, nothing negative is really just it’s just the feeling of knowing that they are

Damian had always known he liked men, there wasn’t one defining moment in his youth where it clicked. He didn’t watch some movie and fall in love with the lead actor, he didn’t have a love-at-first-sight moment that made everything make sense. It’s just something that’s always been. But falling for you had been something that had been gradual. 

At first, you were just some intern with a loud laugh and clearly hung out with not the best people. He’d seen you in the hallway of Gotham University, which was a surprise considering how large the campus is and he grew a little suspicious. He’s Robin, of course, he’s going to be suspicious of a coincidence. 

But falling for you had been incredibly easy when he looked back at it. He just remembers that one random night, after work and school, on your way back from patrol where he looked at you as you sang along (badly, he’d tease you and you’d say it was on purpose) to your patrolling playlist. It was this warm feeling that washed over him, his stomach tossed up and he was thankful that he got to spend his days next to you. It made him realize he’d been falling for a while now and in that moment, it all just felt right. 

Truly Damian had never expected love to be that simple. He had expected it to be something akin to trials of battle. Something he had to defend like he defended himself. How grateful he is that he was wrong about something. 

He considers himself lucky in that regard. 

He looks at you as the two of you sit in the garden, looking at the fallen white snow cloaking the nearly barren bushes. The cold is nipping at his nose and it’s starting to snow again. His pants are wet and cold, his hands tense with what he thinks are the early signs of frostbite. But you look lovely, you look like everything he wants and more. 

A part of him wonders if he deserves this. If his happy ending is something he has been able to get; if he’s atoned for his past. If the blood he’d split has finally dried and he’s able to truly move along. But he tries not to remind himself about his past, focusing on his present or whatever stupid thing Grayson always preaches about.

Sighing, he taps the cold bench with his knuckles before standing up. 

“I believe father should be done talking with your family,” He says and you hum, following after him. You walk hand in hand, your bodies begging for warmth. He notes the recent footprints that aren’t his or yours and figures it was Diana. She’d been wearing kitten heels and that’s the print of them. It makes him smile, figuring she probably got the hint. 

He glances at you as the two of you walk in tandem; he’s known about your family issues for a while. Sworn to secrecy because you didn’t want the others to pity you or try to somehow make up for your family’s shortcomings. You knew his family; you knew how much they liked you and how if they knew the truth, how your family wouldn’t even be allowed to step foot inside. 

He doesn’t know why, honestly he’s tried to imagine it, but you still love them. You still answer their texts, you still wish them a happy birthday even though they rarely do the same, and you haven’t spoken truly ill of them to anyone but him. 

You believed you never did anything remarkable; born to live in the middle child’s role for the rest of your life and he cannot imagine that. 

Gotham University is comparable to Ivy League in almost every regard. You managed to be one of his father's best interns long before you’d gotten your powers. You had enough self-preservation and drive to uproot your entire life, growing used to the harsh environment of Gotham alone. You’ve been beaten and broken enough times to make a grown man quit and yet, you put on the suit night after night, fighting crime with a joke and a smile. You had literally no one in your corner for years and yet he watches as you smile at the snow falling on your nose. 

He knows you’re incredibly strong and he wishes nothing but the best for you; which is why he’ll proudly wear your relationship on his sleeve. 

You look at him, feeling his intense gaze and he grins, kissing you again. 

“You okay?” You ask when he pulls away. He nods, looking back towards the manor as you exit the maze. 

“I’m happy I can kiss you freely.” Is all he says and you playfully roll your eyes. Your siblings are waiting on the porch while Damian’s siblings and further in the snow, talking using sign language when Cassandra waves you both over. 

“We have a plan,” She says. “We are going to act like I can’t speak. Only sign language with your family,” They do that every time the family is introduced to someone new, kept it up with Bernard for nearly a year before someone broke. You managed about two months but that’s only because you accidentally walked into a very heated conversation between her and Jason about ballet plays. 

“I agree.” Damian nods. 

“It’s only natural.” You agree. 

“Yo,” Jason suddenly says while smacking your arm. “Is your stepmother the mom of your sister?” You cringe when you think about it and the weird family drama around them. 

“No, she’s an affair baby,” You start and scratch your cheek. “She’s my mom's god-sister's daughter. Her and my dad didn’t date, though. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, okay,” Steph sighs. “Because they look so similar.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re cousins.”

“Huh?” They all blink and you glance at Damian. He shakes his head; he’s not going to explain this mess. 

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m going to need a full explanation,” Tim shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest while you inhale. 

“Okay, her mother is Lupe. Lupe and my dad slept together for about five years before they had my sister. My mom found out because Lupe’s mother told her because she thought my dad would ‘step up’ and marry Lupe; spoiler, he didn’t. My dad's wife  is Lupe’s older sister's daughter.” You explain, using your fingers to keep track of people. 

“Okay,” Cass nods. “So, how old is everyone and when did they divorce?”

“My sister, Nadia, is twenty-seven, Pat is twenty-four, Diana is eighteen, and Lupe is ten. My parents divorced before Lupe was born.”

“She has her mother's name?” Jason gasps, holding back a laugh. 

“Dad tried to change it; but you need both signatures. Everyone just calls her Lulu. My mom doesn’t acknowledge her.”

“Are we done here?” Damian sighs. 

“Yes, you can go back to kissing your boyfriend,” Tim rolls his eyes while Jason just shakes his head; still in disbelief that Damian had decided on his own that was in a relationship. He feels like he’s done that in another universe, too. 

“So,” Steph starts just before the two of you can walk away. “When’s your anniversary? Or do you celebrate both of them?” She teases and the others laugh. 

“I’m not answering that,” He grumbles and grabs your hand, pulling you away. 

On the porch, he looks at Nadia and her roommate. They’re holding pinkies, testing the waters while your fingers haven’t left Damian’s in nearly twenty minutes. He feels bad for them; despite his upbringing and hardships, he can confidently say that neither side of his family is homophobic. Not even in the slightest; he’s heard about Ra’s and Bruce’s escapades— although Bruce thankfully reassured him that his grandfather was not on his vast list of people he’d taken to bed. 

He goes to remove his hand, fearing you wouldn’t want your family to know but you squeeze his hand, keeping his hand firmly pressed against your skin. He looks at you and you offer a smile, guiding him to a porch bench while you wait for Bruce to let everyone back inside. 

He blinks, holding back a smile while you pull out your phone with your free hand. You’re playing some tedious game about placing blocks that he finds himself captivated in. It’s as if he can see your thinking in real time; understanding how your brain works. 

“So,” Nadia’s roommate— girlfriend, he corrects himself, Kendall, starts. Her voice feels almost surreal in the soft silence that fills the backyard. He’d nearly forgotten you weren’t alone. Nearly. “Are you two…”

“Dating?” You ask, voice carrying a sort of understanding that Kendall smiles at. She nods and you smile, nudging Damian’s shoulder with your own. “Yeah, we are.” 

“Cool,” She says, eyes darting to Nadia’s who just looks down. 

“Gross,” Pat says, eyes flickering to Damian’s. “You can do better.” Rolling your eyes, you return to your phone. 

“There is no such thing,” Damian answers and you pause, your thumb-stopping as you’re about to place a block. “Your brother is the best thing to happen to me.” Smiling, you lock your phone but pretend you’re still using it. Pat rolls his eyes but he doesn’t say anything further. 

From what you’ve told Damian he knows that Pat is an envious man. Envious that Nadia had won the lottery, envious Diana got your parent's love and affection, envious that you were able to escape the suffocating clutches of your parents when no one else could. 

He feels bad for Pat. He wanted to be an elementary school teacher but your parents had pushed for a ‘more respectable’ degree. You said after that he lost his spark. Became a shell of himself; not that you liked him before all that. He wasn’t a good brother to you, always thought you were too childish. Too head in the clouds to do anything. It was strange, considering the close ages between the two of you and you remember a time the two of you were close. 

The door opens and Damian looks over at his father as he fixes his jacket. His neck is tight but he forces himself to relax and he smiles. It’s the smile he puts on for a crowd, during gala’s, during meetings; whenever he has to put on his Brucie Wayne persona. Because anyone who knew Bruce, really knew him, knew his smile was different. 

“Come on, children.” He says, stepping aside as Tim rushes in. 

“He’s too anemic to be in the cold for so long,” Jason snickers, stepping in after Tim. 

Damian has you walk inside first, watching as his fathers eyes track you with a solemn look. It’s the look he had when you opened up about your family and he looks forward, staring at the back of your head as you enter the room for the third time that day. 

Your step-mother is no longer on your father's lap, she’s sat next to him and settles with just holding his hand. Your mother is opposite to them, her expression— Damian hates to admit it, he’s sorry for even making the connection in his head— is nearly identical to yours when you’re annoyed. Your father— again, really, he’s sorry for the connection— has the traits too. It’s the eyebrows and nose flare with your mother, the eyes and lip curl with your father. 

He wonders if you realize it and that’s why you don’t like getting upset. The reason why you try to avoid conflict if possible. 

Lupe climbs onto your fathers lap, the coldness has only made her more tired and he kisses her head, providing the warmth you’d never gotten from him. 

Damian looks at you as you’re holding a recording device between your fingers; a conflicted expression clear on your face before Bruce slyly takes it and crushes it under his finger. 

“Bruce-!” You gasp but he shakes his head, hand on your shoulder. “Okay,”

The two of you take your seats again, your head naturally finding a home on his shoulder while his arm wraps around your shoulder; tracing shapes into your arm absentmindedly. 

Diana scowls as she enters the room; the two of you sit in the middle because she just knows- oh, she knows you’re doing this on purpose. You’re jealous of her so this is your revenge, you’ve always done things like this. Getting better grades, turning her friends against her (she doesn’t know how for that one yet, despite it being nearly six years ago), countless others and now this. You can’t just be happy for her. 

You ignore her, still playing that damn game that Damian doesn’t know why you play. 

For some strange reason, Damian remembers back to when you learned Wonder Woman’s identity. How your face had dropped and how he snickered when you muttered; ‘that’s an unfortunate name’ that Diana had raised an eyebrow to. You had quickly apologized, of course, later recounting how embarrassing it was when you were alone with Damian. 

You still call her Ms. Prince, though. 

His eyes flicker to Nadia and Kendall; Nadia is pressed in between your mother and Kendall, her leg bouncing while Kendall seems almost unfazed being between Nadia and Jason. 

He’s probably wondering when the food is going to be done; he’s been preparing for this day. Literally; him and Tim and sometimes even Duke will take on extra patrol shifts the day before and not eat the day of Thanksgiving just to make sure they have enough room in their stomach for the feast Alfred prepares. 

While Damian is a little sad that Duke wasn’t able to make it this year, he’s glad he’s able to spend it with his family this year. He says they’re getting better, it’s taken several years but the Joker venom is weaning off of them. He can tell and the doctors confirmed it. They’re good enough that he can have an actual meal with them again. 

You check the time; five-sixteen, and almost sigh. Dinner always starts at eight on the dot and man, you’re hungry. Alfred doesn’t let anyone in the kitchen for a nibble on anything; just a glass of water before he kicks them out. 

Maybe if you texted Damian he could sneak out and bring some food for the two of you. 

“No,” He whispers when you’re hovering over your texts, debating typing it out. Grumbling, you put your phone down and look around. 

There’s not much going on, a couple of conversations have broken out but nothing worthy of note. Bruce is almost guarding the door with the way he’s placed his seat, facing over everyone. You wonder what he talked about; you’re not stupid, you know it’s about you, but you want to know exactly what was said. It’s stupid but you worry that Bruce is tired of you, maybe he agrees with your parents that you’re just that kid. Nothing special. 

Damian feels your pulse when his hand travels to run across your neck, his fingers ghosting from your elbow up and you shudder. His eyebrows furrow when he feels the beating and he discreetly checks on you, your eyes darting about the carpet as your worry vein starts to show on your forehead. 

“Father,” Damian says and Bruce looks over, a quiet hm of acknowledgment coming from the man. “Can we be excused?”

“Of course, Damian,” He nods as a thank you and taps your back, beckoning you up from the couch and you follow him out of the room. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks once you’re a couple of steps away from the room. You shrug, fingernails digging into the rubber phone case. He hates that; hates when you don’t give him a verbal response because how is he supposed to help? He’s great at reading body language, yes, of course he is, but he wants you to talk. 

“You’re worried about something,” He says as you’re traveling up the large staircase. The old wood creaks under your footsteps, the banister sharing it when your hand presses down against it. 

“Does Bruce like me?” You ask and he blinks over at you. 

“My father adores you. He’d adopt you if he could,” He reassures with ease and you smile. “You’re worried about what he spoke to your family about?” Nodding, he looks up the stairs and thinks for a moment. 

“I’m going to be honest with you; I have a couple of theories myself. The most likely one is that father invited them here on purpose; he wants to know them because he realized at the tree that your family doesn’t treat you well. He probably played the aloof character he often does and sang your well-deserved praises, watching as your parents squirmed.”

“You really think that?”

“I’d never lie to you,” He promises, kissing your knuckles. “Do you want to take a nap?”

“Yes, please,”

—

Damian had stayed awake at his desk while you napped on his bed, curled up on his blankets and his pillows, Titus happily sharing the space with you. He hates to admit it, but he definitely watched you as you slept; simply admiring you. 

The others had checked on the two of you periodically, finding Damian was more often than not simply sitting in the silence of the room. Jason wanted to make a joke, something about day one relationship bliss but he held his tongue, he didn’t know why. Don’t ask him. He totally should’ve made the joke. 

When you woke up, he put his book down and waited for you to say something.

“Is the food done?” He laughs and checks his phone. Two minutes until eight. 

“It should be once we head downstairs,” You smile this sleepy smile, face still pressed into his pillow and he swears his heart swells. With a quick fixing of your clothes and hair, the two of you head downstairs as Bruce is heading up. 

“Good,” He breathes. “I was on my way to get the two of you.”  He waits for the two of you to walk past before heading back down himself. Jason and Dick are helping bring the food into the large dining room. Two trays of food in each of their arms while Alfred carts in more trays. You can smell the food from the bottom of the stairs and you’re so glad Damian forced you to go. 

You can imagine the leftovers now. 

Bruce sits at the head of the table as he’s always had, Damian pulls out a chair, one away from the corner seat where he’d be sitting, and nods with his eyes for you to sit.  

“He’s such a gentleman,” Tim cooes from across from you. 

“Just because you were raised without class, Drake doesn’t mean the rest of us were.” Damian quickly replies. Bruce wants to smile; he’ll never admit he loves his children’s banter, but he puts on his old man's tired face to save Damian the embarrassment of knowing his father finds his actions cute. 

Cassandra takes the seat across from Damian while you find Kori next to you. Dick is next to her, but Mar’i is asleep in a mobile bassinet between the two of them. They promise she’s a heavy sleeper but everyone is ever aware of their volume as she sleeps. 

You wonder why more partners aren’t at the dinner. Jason usually invites at least one of the Outlaws, the Kents are almost always there, and maybe one or two of Dick’s Titans show up. You were hoping at least Jon would be there; it’s been a while since you’ve seen him. 

Stephanie settles next to Tim, followed by Jason. He likes to be as far as he can from Bruce without being too far because… Bruce and Jason's things. 

You don’t care where your family sits, honestly you try to block them out. Between your parents, siblings, aunt, and cousins (plus Kendall and your father's wife), you can’t bring yourself to care. 

The last of the food is set and Alfred takes the seat at the other end of the table. Head of household go on the ends, is what Damian had told you when you first questioned it. 

“Wanna say what we’re grateful for?” Dick grins the same way he does every single Thanksgiving that the others mouth the words as he’s saying it. 

“Sure,” Bruce nods, his eyes scanning over the table. “I suppose I’ll start, then.” 

“I’m thankful for my children finding happiness,” He smiles. “Wherever that may be.” He adds, looking at Jason. 

“Oh, I need a drink,” Jason mutters and grabs his glass, pouring whiskey out from his flask.

It’s Cassandra’s turn and she looks around before signing

‘I’m thankful for ballet.’ Everyone replies in sign, not because they actually want to reply, but because it’s funny. You catch your family's embarrassed glances at each other when they realize they have no idea what she said and no one is willing to translate for them. 

Tim doesn’t realize it’s his turn and returns to staring at his lap, trying to hide the fact that he’s working. Stephanie nudges him and he looks up, not even embarrassed that he’s been caught. 

“I’m thankful for the internet in the dining room.” 

“I’m thankful for…” Stephanie trails. “Cassandra.” 

“I’m thankful for alcohol,” Jason says as he takes another large gulp. He wanted to say guns, he always says guns, but you guess Bruce had told him not to this year. 

Kendall is next, her eyes flicker to you for a brief moment as she thinks. 

“I’m thankful that I have someone to celebrate with,” Is what she settles on before it’s Nadia’s turn. 

“I’m thankful for Kendall,” She smiles, her voice shaking as she says it. Kendall smiles down at the table, hiding her pink face. It continues on, your cousins are thankful for Kai Cenat, your brother says some corporate answer you forgot immediately after, Lupe says her iPad, your father says his wife, his wife says him, your mother said her husband, her husband said her, your aunt said her kids, and then it’s Diana’s turn. 

“I’m thankful that Mr. Wayne opened his doors to us,” She says in this sickly sweet voice that makes you inhale and hold your tongue. Thankfully that Kori’s hair mostly blocks you from the others, you shake Damian’s shoulder and he stifles a laugh. 

The married couple says sappy married couple answers and suddenly it’s your turn. 

“I’m thankful that I have all of my organs,”

“You’re still on that?” Tim glares, looking up from his laptop and you laugh, the others joining in. “It happened one—“

“Kids,” Bruce says and Tim looks back down at his laptop. He looks at you and you sigh. 

“I’m thankful for the blue— I’m thankful for the food Alfred cooked so tirelessly,” You say and the family nods to that, even Tim. 

“I’m thankful for (Y/n),” Damian says and Jason cheers when Dick slides him a twenty. “You’re childish.”

“And you’re predictable,” He sings, holding up the crisp twenty-dollar bill. Damian goes to say something but Alfred clears his throat and anything he was going to say dies before it reaches his tongue. 

“I’m thankful for another year with all of you,” Alfred smiles fondly at everyone, even you. 

“Dig in.” Getting food is nearly a free-for-all hell. It’s why Alfred always makes enough that you don’t need to reach too far to get your favorite foods. You pile food onto your plate, fighting Tim with the spoon and ever aware of your family’s bewildered expressions. 

It’s strange for them to see; you’re so happy here. Clearly, in your time in Gotham, you’ve been integrated into the family, settling nicely in their bunch. You’re laughing with Jason about something they don’t get, sharing a forkful of food with Damian because he wanted you to try the tofu ham he loves so dearly. You never liked tofu before, your mother tried once, but you love their tofu ham. 

You have inside jokes with them, even with Bruce. Bruce asks about your classes and they realize they can’t name a single class you take; they don’t even know your major. 

But somehow, someway, it’s your fault. You don’t call enough, you don’t text enough, you don’t come home. It’s not because of them; they’ve done nothing wrong. 

And you know that’s what they think. 

With the initial food free-for-all done, you settle into nice conversations that often have breaks of silence because you’re talking to Cassandra. It’s also the first time Bruce participates in the ongoing gag. 

“No, you nearly killed Jerry on his first Thanksgiving,” Damian insists to Jason. “You’re the reason we didn’t have a Turkey for four years.”

“I’m not the one who tried to kill me.”

“Pretty sure you have,” Tim comments, and Jason snorts before covering his face. 

“We agreed to no more suicide jokes,” Bruce lazily reminded. 

“Was it ever a joke…?” You test the waters and he sighs, holding his face while the others laugh. 

“That’s so rude, (Y/n)!” Diana shouts and everyone goes silent. Dead silent. “Don’t joke about suicide!” The others glance at her, unsure of what to do. You blink, pushing food into your mouth and slowly chew. 

“It’s harmless banter between friends and siblings,” Damian says. “You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Oh…” She settles in her seat. “I guess,”

“Anyway,” Stephanie looks away from her, giving you a glance that says ‘seriously, you’re related?’ and you just shrug. “Did Jason try to kill Jerry?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Okay, let’s ask Alfred.” Alfred looks up from his plate, wiping a napkin along his mouth with wide eyes when he sees the children have turned to him for his verdict. 

“Oh, well. That was so long ago, I suppose I’ve forgotten what’s happened.”

“Nonsense Pennyworth; your memory is sharp. No need to spare Todd’s feelings.”

“I know the demon spawn can be a bear but you can tell the truth, Alfred.” 

Bruce sighs because he knows this topic will never end.

“It wasn’t him.” Bruce blurts before covering his mouth with a napkin. Alfred gives him a thankful look but Damian slowly turns to look at Bruce.

“What?” Damian leans over, eyes wide as he stares at his father. “Who was it, father?”

“It was…” He sighs. “Me.”

Shouting erupts at the table, you and Cassandra sit, shell-shocked as years of a feud had been for nothing— something Bruce could’ve stopped long ago. 

‘Wasn’t it you?’ You ask and she nods, serving herself more mashed potatoes. You snicker, reaching over to finish Damian’s glass of wine. He takes the last sip of his father's glass, angrily downing it because the shouting has made his throat dry. 

“I cannot believe you let Todd take the blame,” Damian breathes as he settles down. “It’s been nearly ten years, father!” 

“Oh heavens,” Alfred shakes his head. “I shall bring out more wine.”

“Bourbon, please, Alfred.” Bruce and Jason grumble. 

“Having fun?” Tim grins over at your family. The bunch are shocked; well your cousins are eating this up and Lupe is still playing on her iPad. You didn’t expect anything less from them if you’re being truthful. 

“You have a… lively family,” Your father’s wife smiles. 

“Hopefully you’ll marry into it, right?” Tim continues to egg them on. “Then we’ll be one big happy family.” He winks at your mother who gawks.

“Yup,” You nod, much to Damian’s shock. “One big, gay, happy wedding, right, Dames.” He quickly collects himself and nods. 

“Honeymoon to whatever island you want; after our destination wedding. I’m thinking Istanbul or Cape Town, South Africa.”

“Mhmm, and then we’ll get a big mansion somewhere.”

“A farm, too.” 

“That sounds nice,” Kori agrees. 

“You’ll be my maid of honor, of course.”

“And Dick will be my best man.” 

“He’ll be mine.” You disagree, turning to Damian. 

“You cannot have both!”

“Fine, I’m taking Casandra.”

“No! She’ll be my maid of honor. Why don’t you pick Drake or something?”

“I’m busy that day,” Tim responds and Damian squints. “I might be able to squeeze you in.” Tim concedes. 

“I’m taking Jon, then.” 

“Oh my god,” Bruce puts his head in his hands as Alfred pours him a glass of bourbon. He downs it and Alfred quickly pours another glass. “There won’t be a marriage until you’ve finished college.”

“I didn’t know you moved that fast,” Jason teases. 

“It’s not fast if I’m sure he’s the love of my life.”

You pause, staring down at your glass as the room falls silent. 

Honestly, this is moving… fast. You’ve never been in love, at least you don’t think you have. You’ve never really known love; your father cheated for five years, your mother married your father's (now former) boss out of spite, your father is currently married to someone the same age as his eldest daughter, and your sister was in a hidden relationship. 

Your girlfriends have been nice. You liked them enough, they weren’t bad in any way. You enjoyed being with them but you wouldn’t say you’ve ever loved any of them. 

With Damian, you aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is love. Maybe puppy love but… love. You aren’t sure about that; you’d been joking about the marriage stuff. It was a joke to get your family uncomfortable. You weren’t even sure you wanted to get married! Let alone to Damian. 

The relationship was literal hours long at this point— sure longer in Damian’s eyes but he’s clearly had romantic feelings for you for longer than you’ve had them for him. Maybe you hadn’t realized before, sure, yes, that’s entirely possible. But you don’t love him just yet. 

“I’m gonna… use the bathroom…” Diana excuses herself, her kitten heels clicking against the freshly polished floor. 

Your ears are ringing as Damian continues his conversations like normal. You glance around, finding Tim’s eyes in the chaos that’s your current state. He raises his eyebrows and you must’ve made a face because he did a short nod. Damian says something; something about you. He wants your opinion about something but you don’t know what he said. There was just one fact running through your mind. 

He was in love with you. Like genuinely. 

You must’ve been a horrible gay boyfriend because you smile and ask him to repeat himself. 

“Oh, (Y/n),” Tim cuts you off, closing his laptop. “I wanted your opinion on something about… stuff; join me.” 

“Can’t it wait?” Bruce asks. He assumes it’s about his case because Bruce was considering asking you some questions about it anyway. It had to deal with your major and why not ask the kid who’s currently studying what he thinks? 

“Don’t wanna forget,” Tim shakes his head. 

“It’s okay,” You smile. “I’ll be back in the second, yeah?” Damian nods, squeezing your hand as you leave the room with Tim. 

“He’s a lot.” Is the first thing Tim says when you’re walking into a nearby room. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” You mumble, falling onto a couch with a loud sigh. 

“Really? Because he just said you’re the love of his life and you looked sick.”

“I’m just—“ Any reasoning dies before you find it and you look at him. “It was shocking.” You settle on saying. 

“Yeah, you’ve been dating for maybe six hours and you were asleep for half of them. Congrats, though. You’ve clearly won him over,” Tim settles across from you, his legs hanging off of the chair while he hangs his head, staring at the dead fireplace. 

“I don’t know what love is.” You blurt and he looks up, half interested. 

“Considering your family is a weird fucking situation, I figured.” 

“Shut up, fucking detective.” 

“Ouch,” He teases with a grin. “Put ‘World’s Greatest’ in front of it next time.” 

“Can you explain love? Maybe then I'll put the title.”

“You’re great at barging,” Tim sits up, now resting his chin on his fists. You stare at him, waiting and he sits there. Thinking. 

“If Jon was to walk through the doors and declare his love for Damian, how would you feel?”

“Upset. Confused.” You shrug. 

“How often do you look for him?”

“Not often. We’re never apart.”

“When you are.” He corrects, rolling his eyes. 

“Often, I guess. I worry;” You shrug. 

“About what?”

“During…” Glancing at the door. “Our side jobs, I worry that he’s been taken. I guess. Maybe worse. During classes I just miss him, I’m used to being around him.”

“Used to or want to?”

“What do you mean?” Your face pinches and Tim tilts his head. 

“Are you used to being around Damian or do you want to be around Damian?”

“I want to,” You answer without hesitation. “I miss him when I sleep and he’s not there. I think of him whenever I’m shopping because I often see something he would like. I’ve…” You trail off, rubbing your hands on your legs. “Never told him I’m mildly allergic to dogs because he loves Titus.”

“You’re allergic to dogs?” 

“Mhmm, my throat gets itchy for a bit when I touch them or something they’ve come into contact with. I try not to touch them too often. I think I’ve built an immunity, though.”

“I’d say you’re in love. I would never do that,” He laughs. “Maybe baby love and Damian’s full deep-end love, but love.” 

“Really?” You smile and he nods, looking you up and down as if he’s judging you. He totally is. 

“Yeah, only fools in love would do something that stupid.” 

—

When Diana returns to the dining room, you pay her no mind. You're holding your goddaughter as she stares up at you, holding your finger. Her eyes really are green like her mother's. She smiles, cooing when Damian strokes the top of her head. 

She’s not old enough to have normal food, but it doesn’t mean she likes it. She tries to grab the fork whenever she can and even tries to remove the tablecloth to get to the delicious food. Against your wishes, Kori takes her upstairs. Dick says she needs to eat and you reluctantly understand, missing her already. 

“It’s time for dessert,” Alfred announces as he stands some time after Kori comes back, Mar’i once again fast asleep. Everyone had finished their plates and slumped in their seats, sure they were going to fall into a food coma. 

“I’ll help clear the table,” You offer, standing up and grabbing some of the trays. Jason does the same and you stare at each other; silently agreeing you’d split the leftovers evenly if you don’t argue and alert the others. 

Alfred takes the trays the two of you don’t and once they’re set on the table, he watches as the two of you rush to grab the tupperware he takes out for Thanksgiving and pile food inside. 

“Do leave some for the rest of us,” He comments as he goes back into the dining room to fetch the dirty plates and utensils and you apologize but continue filling the trays. You end up with eight heavy bowls; four for you and four for Damian. It’s not a lot, all things considered. No one else really gets the vegan things so it's always going with Damian. But even with Jason’s filling, there’s more than enough for everyone else. 

You put your tubs into your toolbox, preserving them exactly how they are while Jason has to put his in the fridge after slapping several sticky notes and writing on the tubs that the food is his and he will shoot whoever takes them. 

You’re nearly tempted. 

Alfred returns with the dishes, scraping the bones and scraps into the trash before he places them in the sink to soak. 

“Go inside, you will not have first dibs on dessert.” He says, eyeing the two of you while you stand in the kitchen's doorway. 

“Aw man,” You frown, dragging your feet as you walk away. 

“I assume you stole the leftovers?” Damian grins when you sit back down.

“Absolutely,” You grin back, knocking his leg with yours. “All the favorites, enough for a week.” He nods in approval, once again looking over the table. 

Alfred wheels in the desert and you swear it’s like feeding time at the zoo because the right side of the table eye the trays like they’re raw meat and they’re wild animals who hadn’t eaten in ages. Even Bruce. 

He sets the left side first; which will have the same things as the right and your mouth waters when you see the knafeh. You know your family won’t love it the same way you do and god, you’re going to take the whole pan home. There’s an elaborate strawberry cheesecake, three pies (apple, pecan, and pumpkin), banana pudding, and crème brûlée donuts. 

“I’m gonna cry,” Stephanie whispers, her leg bouncing with anticipation. “It’s so beautiful.”

When Bruce gives the nod to dig in— after Alfred pre-cut slices and gave everyone warning stares—, the dessert free-for-all is more contained. Everyone gets two slices of each pie, two of the cheesecake, enough of the pudding, and three donuts. It’s typically that way but everyone starts trading for their favorite things. You trade your pecan and pumpkin pie slices for: an apple slice, a donut, and two cheesecake slices. Or you don’t. Maybe you made it up; it’s up to your imagination, really. 

Your focus is on the knafeh; everyone always gives you one of their slices out of tradition. No need to trade for those bad boys. 

Alfred pours eggnog for everyone as well— he even makes special ones for those with diet restrictions. 

“This is so good,” Your cousin says, face stuffed with pumpkin pie. “You’re like Gordon Ramsay, dude.”

“Thank you, young man.” Alfred gives him a warm smile that makes your cousin beam. 

“I’m a man,” He whispers to his mother, eyes twinkling. She laughs and ruffles his hair. 

“So, you two are in a real relationship?” Your father's wife asks, pointing her fork between you and Damian. “Like… actually?”

“Yup,” You nod, licking your spoon clean of the apple pie filling. 

“Unfortunately,” Jason teases. 

“Just so you know; I’m like totally cool with gay people.” She says, holding her hand in your general direction as if you were going to grab it. “I’m an ally!”

“Nice,” You nod again. She smiles and nods, sipping her spiked eggnog. She spiked it, and everyone saw. She’ll deny it later. 

“They’re clearly lying!” Diana shouts. You were waiting for that; she’d been incredibly silent for most of the dinner. It was only a matter of time. “(Y/n) is jealous that me and Damian clearly have a spark! He’s… he’s messing with Damian’s mind! You saw the way he looked at me at the tree and besides— (Y/n) has had girlfriends before!”

“I’m bisexual.”

“As if! You don't even like Ryan Reynolds and I remember when you were eight and you said you’d date Red Hood if he was a girl!”

“I never said that!” You quickly shout, face heating up as the others around you snicker. 

“Yes, you did! You made Nadia make you that Red Hood costume for Halloween and made posters of him! You painted our Nerf guns black! And you said you wanted to marry ‘Girl Red Hood’!” 

“No, I didn’t! Oh my god, I didn’t!” You swear, shaking your head. 

“You did,” Nadia nods and you cover your face, unable to look at the Wayne’s. “It was clear, in hindsight.”

“So,” Jason slowly nods. “Red Hood was your gay awakening?”

“No! I was not into Red Hood!”

“And then he was fixated on Robin for a while. The one with the swords,” Nadia continues and you almost sob, collapsing in your seat. “He wanted swords and he swore his Robin hoodie for almost two months straight; convinced dad to buy Robin bedsheets.”

“They’re lying,” Your voice is muffled under your hands. Damian rubs your shoulder but you can just tell he’s enjoying this. 

“It was so much worse than the Red Hood phase,” Pat slowly agrees. “Is that why you moved here?”

“No, because that never happened.”

“It did,” Your mother slowly agrees. “But you stopped because of…” She trails, looking at your father. The conversation dies there and you’re able to breathe. 

“Damian’s not even gay!” 

“Diana,” You groan. 

“Considering there’s a video going around of them kissing; I’d say he’s pretty gay,” Tim says and you look at him.

“You recorded us kissing?”

“Not me; that’s too weird for me.” He shakes his head, flipping his laptop to show you. “Diana was live and someone screen recorded. You’re trending with the hashtag: stuffing.”

“That’s just crazy,” You snicker but try to be serious. 

“Hickeys so soon?” Stephanie wiggles her eyebrows at Damian as she watches the video. 

“This is unbecoming,” Damian blinks at the video but everyone can see he’s red in the face. “I demand you stop playing the video.”

“I actually sent it to everyone already.”

“Drake!”

“Tim!”

“What?” He grins, looking between the two of you. “All of us have one— it’s a rite of passage for Bruce’s sort of kids to get caught making out and having it posted.”

—

Dinner wraps up, and you’re in the kitchen with Alfred, putting your leftovers into more Tupperware to avoid… all of them really. He’s washing the dishes, insistent that he does it alone and you let him. He won’t budge on his Thanksgiving dish duties for some odd reason. 

You’re finishing up when your phone buzzes and you check it. 

Diana : 

Mom and dad are yelling at each other because of you. I hope you’re happy. 

Just stop pretending you weren’t even bisexual yesterday. 

It’s actually really sad. 

They’re talking about changing custody because of you, now I won’t be able to see mom or dad EVER again. 

Nadia:

I can see Diana texting you

it’s not your fault

you know how they are

and i’m proud that you came out, sorry i didn’t say it earlier 

Your family had left in a haste, mostly rushed by your mother and father who climbed into a large uber with the kids and spouse. Your aunt and cousins were driven back by Dick. 

You:

thanks, you too, btw

Nadia:

LOLLL maybe one day

you two should come visit us one day, see the farm

damian likes animals, right?

You:

yeah

loves them

She sends you some pictures of animals she’s gotten over the course of a couple years and you smile. 

You:

oh he’ll definitely want to see them

maybe during spring break?

Nadia: 

sounds perfect. stay safe, ill worry about mom and dad 

You:

okay love you

Nadia:

love you too

—

Later that night, everyone is doing a late-night patrol when you hear Jason start speaking. 

“Girl Red Hood?”

“They were lying!”

“For Hood’s sake, he better pray that is true.”

[domjaehyun]

there's a stranger in my house (l.jn)

PAIRING. lee jeno x fem!reader 

GENRE. thriller, smut

CONTENTS. major character death, seriously dubious consent that turns noncon (please believe me when i say this), spitting, unprotected sex, fear play, oral (fem receiving), anal play, degradation, praise, biting, marking, ass smacking, mirror sex, non-consensual filming, choking, hair pulling (receiving), manhandling/strength kink, some role play 

WORD COUNT. 3.8k

SUMMARY. something’s not quite right about jeno, and you’re not sure what it is.

PLAYLIST. stranger in my house - tamia

NOTES.  hiii well. i can’t explain myself. important context is the movie “us” by jordan peele but if you haven’t seen it, i try to explain without explaining. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. happy birthday to my dear dear dear friend @renjunfocus!! i hope you all like it and don’t come tell me if you didn’t 💖 but if you enjoyed it, by all means let me know! 

“Jeno, please be safe tonight.” you say worriedly as he adjusts his costume in the mirror. “Halloween is scary; people are always doing something fucked up.”

“I’ll be as safe as possible, baby.” Jeno assures you, turning to face you with that crescent-eyed smile you love. “Plus, I’m literally dressed as a cop; they might think it’s real.” 

“True,” you hum, nibbling your bottom lip worriedly as you take in his appearance. “You look really… really good, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah? Can I get a kiss for looking this good?” he asks hopefully, and you smile, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips, Jeno chasing after you as you pull back.

“There’s more where that came from when you get back home.” you promise, and he gives you a cute frown before straightening back up and smoothing out his costume one last time.

He pulls you into a hug as he always does before he leaves and when he comes back, and you breathe in deeply, his comforting scent of peppermint body wash, a soft musk, and baby powder enveloping you.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and slowly retracts from you, a hint of reluctance in his movements.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he bids you goodbye, blowing you a kiss before exiting your bedroom and, you deduce when the front door shuts, your apartment.

You decide to get cozy in bed and wait for him to come home while you read a book you’ve been neglecting recently, but it’s only about thirty pages in before your eyelids start to droop and you find yourself curling up under your covers and drifting off to sleep.

When you wake up, it’s with a start, sitting straight up in bed when you hear the front door shut roughly. You wait for Jeno to make his way into your room, surprise and confusion filling you when he appears and—

“You changed your costume.” you point out, and he looks down at it as if he’s forgotten.

“Some girl spilled her drink on me at the party, so Jaemin loaned me his spare costume.” Jeno answers with a shrug, and you nod.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a grin. 

He chuckles as he draws closer to you. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod encouragingly. “The robber thing is kind of a 180 from the police officer, but it’s really hot… kinda makes me a little flustered.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, and you nod again, slower this time. 

“The ski mask is a good touch; kinda scary, too.” you compliment, and his gaze darkens as he looks down at you.

“Are you scared, then, baby?” he questions, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Hm? The big, scary robber’s making you nervous?”

“Oh, yes, mister robber, sir, please! You can take all my money, just please don’t hurt me!” you plead, clasping your hands together and blinking up at him through your lashes.

“It’s not money I want, sweet girl,” Jeno growls through his ski mask, his voice muffled but still so convincing and deeply unsettling that you feel apprehension creeping up on the back of your neck. “Sit on the windowsill,” he grunts, jerking his chin towards the bay window beside your bed, and you climb to your feet, obediently moving to sit at the edge of the windowsill. The seat is cold on the backs of your thighs, making you wince slightly, and you find yourself drawing back in fear as Jeno stalks towards you and stands before you, practically looming menacingly over you.

He slams his hands down on either side of you loudly and suddenly, making you yelp in panic. “Relax,” he purrs, lowering himself so he’s eye level with you. “So pretty,” he rasps, tilting his head to the side as he watches you, but the compliment fails to warm your cheeks the way it usually does, because this time, it sounds… foreign and unfamiliar to you. It’s a type of observation Jeno’s never demonstrated before, your loving boyfriend usually eyeing you with adoration, love, or fondness in his eyes. Tonight, it’s different. It’s almost… sadistic in its fascination, as if the flashes of fear behind your eyes are fueling him somewhat.

You’re so focused on decoding the entirely unsettling look Jeno’s giving you that you don’t notice one of his hands sneaking up behind your back until his fingers are looping in the locks at the base of your neck and tugging your head back roughly. His eyes darken at the flash of panic and pain across your face before he’s ripping the ski mask off and practically smashing his mouth against yours, kissing you more ferociously than he ever has before. He’s all sharp teeth and forceful tongue, the wet, thick muscle bullying its way into your mouth as you whimper for mercy. His tongue swirls around the inside of your mouth possessively, coating every last bit of it with his saliva like he’s marking his territory.

He pulls back slightly before spitting directly into your mouth just as you go to gasp for air. You promptly choke on his saliva, coughing and spluttering pathetically as tears spring to your eyes. You’ve barely recovered before Jeno stuffs two fingers into your mouth, parting them in a V so your lips are stretched horizontally, and he wags his tongue lewdly in the open space of your parted lips, licking against your tongue with long strokes punctuated by guttural grunts of delight. 

He spits once more, a long drop of saliva landing on your tongue, and you whimper in protest, shaking your head in refusal.

He cups your chin in his hand with a firm, almost too tight grip, staring you down challengingly. “Swallow it. Take my spit in your mouth like the good little slut you are.” 

You blink back tears of confusion and hurt as you do just that, swallowing his spit, and he smiles, pleased as he pats your cheek roughly.

“Good.” he grunts, releasing you and knocking your legs apart with two quick slaps to your inner thighs. He drops to his knees between your thighs and yanks the straps of your satin nightie off your shoulders, tugging the fabric down to reveal your bare breasts. He pinches at one nipple, twisting until you squirm away from his touch. He latches onto your neck, biting roughly and sucking harshly and working his way downward until marks are blooming all over your sensitive, buzzing skin.

When he gets to your breast, he looks up at you, studying your reaction when he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as he can fit. You hiss in surprise and move to push him back slightly, finding yourself overwhelmed by the intense sensations, but he snatches your hands out of the way, linking them together in his larger one before trapping your hands between your legs. He sucks on your nipples roughly, rapidly flicking his tongue over the buds and even nipping at them every once in a while, and you can’t tell if you want to moan or cry.

After what feels like ages of inner turmoil, he releases your breasts from his greedy clutches, your nipple slipping from his lips with a loud, wet, pop sound. He leaves a trail of bite marks down from the underside of your breast to your stomach, where he sinks his teeth into your flesh so roughly that you fear he’s aiming to draw blood. He pulls back when there’s a clear indentation of his teeth on you, marks that are sure to bruise, and spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. 

“Been dying to taste this pussy,” he grunts under his breath, and you swallow thickly, watching him warily as he drags his tongue up your folds forcefully. Spreading your folds apart with two fingers, he prods the thick tip of his tongue against your entrance. You gasp in surprise when he slithers his tongue into you, the muscle fat and long as he moves it around along your inner walls. “Delicious,” he groans, dragging his tongue over your hole and relishing the way your hips jolt.

When two thick fingers push into you without warning, a weak moan falls from your lips at the surprise of the stretch. Jeno grins cockily, and it hits you what’s different: there’s a hollowness to his every emotion, like there’s a lack of… humanity to it.

Something about him is off; he's not acting like the man that loves you. He's touching you with the desperation of a man that's never had you before. He even smells different; like smoke, ash even, and something metallic and dark. What clues you in the most that this is not your boyfriend is that his signature scent, his personal blend of musk, is nowhere to be found. This man smells tangy, sharp, and strong, a heady blend but most importantly enough, not your boyfriend's blend.

This man is not Jeno.

“Um,” you pipe up tentatively, and he takes a minor break from licking at your core to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Who are you?”

With your question, the energy in the room shifts completely; a smile nothing short of sinister appears on his lips, and there’s a wicked glint in his eye that has you clutching at the windowsill.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, and there’s an attempt at tenderness, but it all feels so deceptive, like he’s pantomiming an emotion he’s never experienced. “You don’t recognize me?”

“No,” you say breathlessly. “You’re not Jeno.”

“Smart girl,” he replies before lowering his head to return to eating you out. When you start to close your legs from fear and panic, he growls threateningly, the sound guttural and unnatural, and moves faster than you could’ve thought possible. He pushes the bay window open behind you, the bottom of the window swinging out, and forces you back and down until your torso dangles precariously from your tenth floor apartment unit.

“If you make any wrong moves, I will drop you.” he threatens, and you whimper in terror, the wind chilling your cheeks and rushing through your hair as you dangle, contorted partially upside down, at the mercy of this man who looks just like your boyfriend yet behaves like anything but. “Unless you’ve always wanted to paint the concrete with brain matter, I’d stay still.”

You nod vigorously in understanding, letting your trembling thighs fall apart once more, and he hums appreciatively.

“Like I said,” he remarks as he attaches his lips to your clit, “smart girl.” He sucks roughly at your sensitive bud with lewd moans and wet smacking noises and if he can hear your sniffles and whimpers of fear, he doesn’t comment.

The hand not keeping you in your life-threatening position strokes against your folds, parting them and pushing two fingers back into you, starting to pump them in and out.

“I’ve been waiting for this for too long.” he mumbles against your folds before proceeding to sloppily make out with your core, tongue slurping and licking at every drop of arousal that drips out of your poor hole. “Waited in the shadows, listening to that bastard fuck you every night—”

“Every night?” you gasp, and he chuckles darkly.

“I’ve been watching you both for some time now.” he informs you, fingers moving in and out of you while he speaks as if it’s the most casual conversation in the world. “He was a real fucking soft guy, huh?” 

“Was?!” you squeak in alarm, and he laughs loudly, fingers speeding up cruelly and hooking into your g-spot, making it abundantly clear to you that you’re about to cum, whether you like it or not.

“Oh, he’s not coming back, baby,” he says with an audible grin, malice laced in the pet name he so evilly threw back in your face. “Unless anyone at that Halloween party can perform open heart surgery.”

“Oh, my God,” you whimper, and you’re not sure if it’s from abject horror or your rapidly approaching climax. The unmistakable sounds of his fingers squelching in your arousal fills the inside of the room, loud enough for you to hear it from your precarious pose halfway outside. “Please, you have to stop, I don’t want to cum—”

“Do you think I give a fuck what you want?” he spits back at you, and you flinch at the venom in his voice. “All my life, we’ve been forced to mimic you all up here like puppets while you get to do whatever the fuck you want. Now it’s time to do what I want, and I? I want you to cum all over my fingers and my tongue.”

“Please—” you whisper, and he shushes you, the sound adjacent to something close to loving, but lacking any real sympathy; he must have heard Jeno soothing you at some point and mimicked the sound to the best of his abilities. 

“Cum, baby,” he urges, fingers pistoning in and out of you rapidly before he curls and fucks them directly into your g-spot and brings you to a powerful climax that you wish you could explain away to your guilty conscience. His lips wrapped around your clit, he sucks hard and flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud as you ride out your high against his face. 

When you’ve recovered somewhat, he looks up at you with a wicked grin, lips still glistening with your arousal. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he taunts with a sly grin, and you just sniffle forlornly in response. “Get up, baby—wanna feel that pussy around my cock next.” He pulls you up unceremoniously, shutting the window behind you and guiding you to the bed. He plops you down on the mattress and hovers over you, encroaching on your space bit by bit until you’re lying with your back on the bed and your legs are reluctantly spread to welcome him in. “You scared?”

“Yes,” you whimper, and he pouts at you, not a hint of sympathy in his expression. 

“Good.” he chuckles darkly before lining his thick tip—thicker than Jeno’s—up with your entrance and pushing into you with one fluid motion. You grab roughly at the sheets at the intrusion, gasping out loudly, and he seals his mouth over yours to silence your cry of surprise, tongue pushing into your mouth and licking into it filthily. “Relax, you’re never gonna take it well if you don’t relax.”

How the hell am I meant to relax when you killed my boyfriend and are in my home about to do Lord knows what to me? You think, but you refrain from mouthing off just yet.

He pushes down on your lower abdomen, groaning in delight as he feels the bulge of his length dragging along your inner walls, and you let out a choked-off squeak as he stretches you to your limits and fills you impossibly deep. 

“That’s it, pretty little thing, feel me nice and deep right here,” he growls, starting to move his hips faster to fuck into you at a gradually building pace. His hand slides up your stomach to twist your nipple before continuing up to cup your chin and turn your face towards the mirror by the door. You shake your head vigorously, not wanting to see yourself like this, but he holds fast, practically smushing your cheek into the comforter. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.” he urges, and you whimper in protest. 

Your face looks nothing short of fucked out, and he’s just gotten started; your eyes glassy with unshed tears, a few tear streaks sliding down your cheeks, and your jaw feels permanently dropped open as he fucks into you at a brutal pace. His sinewy arms hold you in place as he bullies his cock into your tight hole and his abdomen tenses with every thrust, tight muscle tensing and flexing in a regrettably attractive way.

He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone, holding it up and aiming it at you. “Smile, baby; you’re on camera.” You reach to cover your face and chest immediately, crying out in protest when he snatches your hands away. “Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy,” he taunts cruelly. “That loser never filmed you two fucking?” 

“No,” you say pleadingly, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Sight as pretty as this can’t go to waste.” he decides, moving the phone closer to your face. Fresh tears spill forth, and he licks his lips slowly, watching one tear in particular drip down your cheek before leaning down and licking a fat, wet stripe up your cheek where the tear track was. “God, and now you’re crying—it’s like you’re trying to make me cum.”

“No, I’m not, please, I’m not—” you beg, and he shushes you impatiently, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yes, baby, you’re gonna make me cum nice and deep in this tight little pussy—gonna fuck you full of my cum—” he grunts, and you squirm under his hold desperately, fighting to get free. “That’s it, struggle a little bit for me—so fucking hot,” he mutters before bringing his forearm to your throat to press down harshly, constricting your airway. “Not too much, now—don’t want you getting away from me.”

“Please—” you croak out, struggling to breathe. “Can’t—breathe—”

His smile only widens and two things dawn on you: one, he could very well kill you right now, and two, there’s no way in hell you’re going down without a fight.

You reach up and claw at his forearm, scratching as hard and as deep as you can, and to your alarm, he grins widely, even among the wince in his expression.

“Love that little fighter in you.” he growls, pressing down harder, so hard you fear it might bruise. “Can’t wait to break it.”

Your vision starts to cloud, black spots forming in your line of sight, and you can feel your consciousness slipping away from you even as you try desperately to remain awake and free yourself. It all proves to be in vain as you slip away from this world, barely able to hear his faint murmur of “That’s it,” before you pass out completely.

When you come to, your throat is sore and you can’t move your body. Your vision spins as you take in the sight of your bedroom, eyes squinting reflexively as the glare of the television hits your retinas.

You turn your head this way and that only to see, to your horror, that your hands and feet are tied to each bedpost with thick, coarse rope. No matter how hard you tug, there seems to be no breaking free, and panic creeps up your still hoarse throat, hot and thick and dully aching. 

The television catches your attention once more, your mind focusing on it in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you watch whatever’s on, your brain catching up quickly.

“...in what reporters everywhere are calling the ‘Doppelgäng​er Takeover,’ recent news has shown that people are being viciously attacked and some even killed by someone that looks exactly like them. If you see someone behaving not quite right, stay back and do not approach; they are known to be violent and highly dangerous.”

Your breathing hitches and starts to shallow rapidly as you start to hyperventilate, tugging harder and harder on your restraints. 

“They won’t budge,” Jeno’s voice calls out, and you flinch, whipping your head around to find the source of the sound. Jeno emerges from the hallway, now clad in a short sleeved black tank top and dark gray sweats. “You can thank Jeno’s mom for that; she signed him—and therefore me—up for Boy Scout training when we were eight.” He steps further into the room, dark piercing eyes scanning your frame trembling with fear. “Her precious Jeno never quite got the hang of the knots, but me? I mastered them.”

A terrified whimper slips from you before you can stop it, and his lips quirk up into a wickedly delighted smile.

“What should I, um…” you swallow thickly before continuing, “call you?”

“Jeno.” he replies easily, and his keen eyes catch the almost imperceptible grimace that takes to your lips at his answer. 

“What are you going to do with me?” you ask worriedly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to keep you.” he states plainly, and your body stills entirely, fear igniting in your bloodstream and leaving you close to paralyzed. 

“What about my doppelgänger?” you question, not knowing what answer could possibly make you feel better at this point.

“I got rid of her.” His answer is simple again, and you suck in a breath of surprise. “She’s not as fun as you.”

“Fun?” you croak, and he nods, a gleeful smile on his lips as he nears the bed slowly.

“Doppelgängers are essentially a ‘crude’ copy of the ‘original’ person,” Jeno explains, making one-handed air quotes around the words he spits with disdain, “and only the ‘original’ person has a soul.” 

“So… so that means—”

“I don’t have a soul.” Jeno confirms with a hollow laugh made all the more terrifying now that you know he’s literally hollow spiritually, devoid of humanity. “None of my people do.”

“And you want my soul?” you ask fearfully, and he snorts in amusement, shaking his head.

“You really are cute, you know that?” he chuckles. “I’m not going to take it from you,” he says, waiting until your body slackens with relief to add, “I’m going to break it.”

“What does that mean?” you whimper, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Jeno, what do you mean?”

“I want you to understand that this is your reality now. I don’t want there to be any fight left in you at all. But you people are like that… hopeful,” he spits the word with disgust. “Your spirits are like a fire that won’t go out. Every once in a while, there’s a little,” he pauses to scan your face, eyes brightening with excitement when he catches sight of your eyes, no doubt reading the fear, fury, and desperation you have to save yourself— “ember… that sparks up, and I’m going to be here to snuff yours out every… single… time.” He’s close enough to bring his mouth to your ear, lips grazing the lobe and making you shudder with revulsion. “You’re not going anywhere unless I say so.”

You don’t say anything, setting your jaw firmly and staring straight ahead to ignore him. Maybe he’ll get angry enough and kill you, putting you out of your misery.

“There’s that little fighter,” he remarks with fascination. “I saw a hint of it earlier when I was choking you; that fight to survive, to live—you fucked my arm up pretty badly, I was impressed.” he remarks, extending his arm to show you the deep, angry, red cuts clawed into his forearm he’d wrapped around your throat just hours ago. His other arm emerges from behind his back, and your eyes widen when you see a Hitachi wand in his hand, his thumb already resting on the “on” button. “I am going to have so much fun breaking you.” he rasps with unrestrained excitement as he turns the vibrator up to the highest setting.

well.........congrats for making it to the end!! *insert obligatory "i definitely don't think jeno's like this" part that technically doesn't need to be there considering that wasn't jeno* i hope you liked it and if you didn't.... well sorry ig tune in next time for a lovey dovey fic 💖

[foolinafable]

the setup

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader Synopsis: Five has a rather outrageous crush on his niece's tutor, so Lila and Diego decide to set them up by inviting her to their daughter's birthday party. Word Count: 1.7K Tags: Fluff, season 4, Crackfic, everyone knows they like each other but they are being stupid Note: sorry this took so long to come out, i had half written in august but only finished it now, not really proofread yet so mind any mistakes!

“You came!” the delighted voice of Grace Hargreeves shouted out as the girl bounded her way toward you. Enveloping you in a larger-than-life hug 

“Of course I did! I told you I would, didn’t I?” you questioned the girl, struggling to hug her back with her present in your hands. 

“Yes, but-” the girl started, not able to meet your eyes, embarrassed at her thoughts 

“But nothing!” you quickly interrupted her. “Now go play with your friends. I need to find your mom or dad and figure out where to put your present.” You shooed the girl away towards her friends. 

Luckily, you didn’t need to look far, Lila spotted you almost immediately after her daughter left you. The woman quickly made her way over to you with a large smile on her face, mirroring her daughters. She quickly pulled you into an excited hug before pulling away and taking the present off your hands. 

“So glad you could come, Grace had been asking repeatedly if her favourite tutor was coming.”  

“I’m her only tutor?” you questioned 

“That’s what I said!” The woman laughed, glee apparent in her features as she grabbed your hand with the one not carrying your present, walking you towards where all the adults were unfortunately stationed watching the children, some looking like they would rather be anywhere else. 

“Diego!” Lila called out to her husband, who quickly turned towards her, his smile widening when he noticed you stood next to her. He quickly hugged you in greeting before turning his attention to his wife. 

“Where did you put the pinata? Luther and I are going to set it up.” 

“Um,” Lila looked around, spinning around in a circle to survey the area when her gaze locked onto someone near the ball pit. “Five!” The woman called out, waiting for him to look at her before she continued, “Can you bring the pinata over? Thanks!” She quickly called out before rushing off, mumbling something about needing to get the cake.

The man in question quickly made his way over, holding a very familiar-looking piñata 

“Is that an east side piñata?” you questioned as Five handed it over to Diego, who looked at you with so much relief you thought you could've saved his life

“Yes,” he practically shouted in glee. “Yes, it is!” looking around smugly for someone, but you weren't sure who 

“You might need a bit of a heavier hand with that then. At my younger cousin's birthday last week, it took an adult to hit it for the candy to come out,” you warned the older man. He simply nodded, walking off to put it up, a large smile still present on his face, 

“Hi” the man you were left with almost whispered, believing that he would scare you off if he came on too strong. 

“Hi, Five,” you smiled in greeting, “I haven't seen you at the house recently. Been busy?” you replied. Truthfully, wanting to keep talking to the attractive man, 

“Yeah, sorry, been working overtime at the CIA, sure you understand” he smiled slightly at your attention to his lack of presence lately. Making him believe that maybe Lila and Diego were right about your reciprocation of feelings towards him

 “How has University been?” he questioned, wanting to keep the conversation going 

“Very good”, you respond. Hand on hips at his disbelief in your answer, shock evident on your face “Honestly!” you smile,

“I mean, I'm on Christmas break at the moment, so there’s not much to do other than tutoring.” You shrug your shoulders, trying to hint to the man that maybe the two of you could spend some time together. But before Five could reply, Klaus came bouldering over with Claire. 

“Five! Lovely to see you!” 

The man greets his brother, Klaus, you quickly learn from Five's reply 

“And this is?” Klaus asks, gesturing towards you when Claire whispers to him. 

Klaus “The tutor! We have heard so much about you!”

“Really?” you questioned, looking down at your feet in nervousness. “I didn't know Grace spoke about me so much.”

“Oh, not from Grace-“ Klaus began, a large cheeky smile covering his face. But he was quickly interrupted by the feeling of a hand on his gloved one, causing him to pause in alarm. When he was quickly dragged away by Claire, her eyes wide in alarm, while Five was glaring at him with such ire you could imagine Hades opening up hell for whoever was at the other end of it.

“It was lovely to meet you”, he shouted as his niece pulled him further away from you.

You smiled, a clumsy laugh tumbling out as you looked at Five, his hands covering his face in annoyance, but a clear smile was present on his face when he removed his hands, but before either of you could say anything more, a familiar head of hair came running towards you.

“How is the birthday girl doing?” you ask, ruffling her hair as she smiles widely at you.

“Amazing, but I would feel even better if you watched me go down the slide”, the girl replied cheekily, making a small scoff come out of her uncle's mouth at her words. 

“Well, we can't have the birthday girl not be at max amazingness, can we?” you teased as she led away from Five and towards the play area. An apologetic smile on your face as you left him, hoping that it wasn't the last time you would speak to him today.  

── ✧

You didn’t see the brunette again until much later, stood by the ball pit after having escaped the herd of parents asking you intrusive questions, you were sure you would’ve blown a fuse if anyone else asked why you were still single as you were ‘such a lovely girl.’ 

“Finally freed yourself from the lionesses, I see”, Five joked as he came to stand next to you, beer in hand. “It seems Klaus has not been so lucky.” You looked over to see that they had now set their sights on the boy crowding around him like paparazzi. 

“Remind me to stay clear of that side of the room,” you complained, hands rubbing at your temples in worry that they would begin to hurt “There's only so long I can handle being asked about my lack of boyfriend before I strangle one of them,” you admitted, not catching the man's smile at your words.

“Don’t worry, I'll protect you,” he proclaimed.

“Yes, I'm sure you will be much a deterrent to the herd of mamas,” you joked, laughing at his recoil, head shaking in amazement at your goading.

“You really know how to make someone feel good about themselves, don't you?” he teased 

“Clearly”, you smiled, sarcasm laced heavily in your response.

The balls in the ball pool quickly flew up as a man emerged from them, causing you to jump back in alarm as Luther popped his head up from below, a large smile on his face at catching you off guard, eyebrows raising slightly as he noticed his brother stood next to you. After a laugh, you spoke pleasantries with the man, trying to ignore Five's hard glare that he was directing at him. The younger-looking male sighed loudly, causing the two of you to look towards him, the eye contact made the man go red in embarrassment before clearing his throat, looking exacerbated. 

“I thought you were helping Diego set up the  pinata?”

“I was?” The larger man questioned, eyes wide as he looked around the party, clearly alarmed that he wasn't doing what Five had mentioned, scampering out of the ball pit when he saw Diego, but before he could make his way over, Diego called out for everyone to come over for the game so the three of you slowly made your way towards the growing group of children and adults. Five made sure to lead you over to an area with less noisy parents, making you smile in thanks as he grabbed you by the small of the back to lead you away when a parent tried to call out for you.   

To say the next few moments were a disaster would be an understatement, mirroring your earlier words as the pinata was from the east side no matter how hard Grace or her friends would hit the object, it wouldn't break. Luther, clearly wanting to make it up to Diego for missing the memo to help him, tried to use his strength to break the Pinata, and while the Pinata did break, so did the birthday cake. Bits of it went everywhere like a volcano explosion, covering all the guests, much to the children's joy and parents' horror. 

You now stood off to the side, trying to get any larger pieces of cake out of your hair, laughing at the furious faces of the other adults. When Five gave you a napkin, you smiled, letting out a quiet appreciation as you wiped at your face. Feeling that you had gotten enough off, you turned to the boy, laughing at his cake-covered face.

“Here,” you said, moving to wipe some cake off his cheek with the napkin, trying to contain your giggles, he smiled brightly as you moved away from him slightly, his own hand coming to tuck a strand of hair full of icing behind your ears and then regretfully retracting his hand

“Do you wanna get out of here? Maybe go to a coffee shop where my siblings won't interrupt us every few minutes?” he asked, fingers fidgeting with nerves. 

“Like a date?” you questioned, trying not to get your hopes up, smiling up at him, head tilting slightly to the left as you pondered his words.

“If you want” he replied pensively. 

“I do”, you quickly rebutted, smiling as the boy led you towards the door with a matching grin on his own face.

── ✧

“I told you he would ask her out tonight,” Diego spoke smugly, watching as his brother helped you put on your coat, his wife watching, annoyed beside him.

“I thought it would’ve taken him until our Christmas party.” Lila rebutted, clearly annoyed that she had lost

“But I suppose it is about time you won one of our bets”, she replied smugly, quickly lowering Diego down a peg as the two watched you and Five leave their daughters' birthday party, hands intertwined.

[theetherealbloom]

YOU'RE THE RISK, I'M GONNA TAKE IT

Summary: You help your boss, Joel Miller, buy flowers for his date. Or so you thought.

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUT, Light Angst, Reader Dislikes Roses (i also dislike them :P), Kissing, Cheesy, Crush, Grumpy Single Dad, Office/Workplace Romance, Assistant!Reader, Billionaire!Joel, CEO!Joel, Boss!Joel, She Falls First and He Falls Harder Trope, Grumpy/Sunshine Trope, Idiots-In-Love, Confessions, PWP (wrap it up ya’ll), Fingering, Power Imbalance, Pet Names, ‘Good Girl’, ‘Darlin’,

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: SOOOO WE’VE ALL SEEN THAT PIC RIGHT???? FML, if I ever saw that man carrying flowers and gifting them to me, I would marry him right away. 

This is for @morallyinept Jett’s Flora & Fauna Writing Challenge for May! I was obviously inspired by the picture in the moodboard above and my love for Gracie Abram’s new song Risk! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated, thank you all for reading and supporting my deluluness tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Risk by Gracie Abrams

Main Masterlist

In the elegant floral shop, the scent of fresh blooms enveloped you as you stood beside your boss, Joel Miller, a man of many responsibilities and hidden depths. His piercing gaze fixed on a display of vibrant roses, seeking your opinion on a matter close to his heart - choosing the perfect flowers for a date.

Joel, a handsome billionaire with a company to run, a daughter to care for, and a brother to watch over, often sought your counsel on matters both personal and professional. Whether it was a crucial business decision or selecting a gift for Sarah's upcoming birthday, he valued your input more than he let on.

You studied the roses with a critical eye, your brows furrowing slightly as you considered the implications of his choice. "I think Lauren will love it," you finally offered, your voice tinged with a hint of reservation at the mention of Joel's recent romantic interest.

The name 'Lauren' left a bitter taste in your mouth, a woman who seemed more interested in Joel's wealth and status than in him as a person. You couldn't shake the feeling that she was using him for her own gain, and the thought of Joel falling for her facade made your stomach churn.

Joel's keen observation didn't miss the subtle shift in your demeanor. "Why are you makin' that face?" he questioned, his narrowed eyes fixed on you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Your heart raced at being caught off guard, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What face?" you attempted to deflect, but Joel saw through your facade with unnerving accuracy.

"The one you make when you don't like somethin'. You're scrunchin' your nose and everythin'," he pointed out, his gesture leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Caught in his perceptive gaze, you struggled to find the right words, knowing that you couldn't deceive him. There was an unspoken connection between you, a bond that transcended the boundaries of employer and assistant, leaving you feeling both exhilarated and unnerved by his proximity.

Joel's expectant gaze bore into you, his hand resting casually on his hip as he awaited your response, a subtle sign of his contemplation or frustration. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a silent understanding passing between you as you navigated the delicate dance of honesty and restraint in your shared space.

You settled for the truth, pinching your lips as if you were thinking how to phrase the next few words, eventually meeting his brown eyes and saying, "I don't like roses." The words hung in the air, a confession that felt both liberating and terrifying.

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. Before he could respond, you cut him off, rambling on in a nervous attempt to clarify your thoughts. "I know, I know, it's just... my preference. It's not that I don't find them pretty... I do. It's just, sometimes it feels like there's no thought into getting someone roses."

You really should shut up, but you couldn't stop, your words tumbling out in a rush. "That's not to say you're not like putting in the effort to get Lauren... roses or something. It's just there's a whole language to flowers and their meaning, and there's definitely more options than just a whole bouquet of roses."

The silence that followed was oppressive, Joel's eyes roaming all over your figure as if taking in every detail. You felt like you were going to vomit, because there was no way you had just told your boss that he wasn't being thoughtful as he was getting the bitch flowers.

"What d'you like then?" Joel's deep voice asked, his tone low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You took a moment to formulate an answer, your heart racing with anticipation.

"Red Peonies," you swallowed, the words feeling like a revelation.

"Why?" Joel asked, his eyes never leaving yours, and you swear he took a small step closer to you, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing.

"Besides it representing love, it also represents passion, honour and respect," you explained, trying to sound calm despite the turmoil inside. "There's just something more to it, I guess."

The air was tense, Joel's gaze burning into you like a brand. You felt like you were drowning in the depths of his eyes, the silence between you a palpable thing. You knew you should look away, but you couldn't, your gaze locked onto his as if drawn by an unseen force.

The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment of raw emotion. You knew that you had crossed a line, but you couldn't help the way you felt. The truth was out, and now you just had to face the consequences.

The sharp chime of a phone shattered the charged silence between you, pulling you both back to the reality of the moment. You reluctantly pulled out your phone, a sigh escaping your lips as you delivered the news. "Your 3 p.m. meeting with Bill and Frank is coming up. We should buy those roses and go—"

But before you could finish, Joel interjected, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of reluctance. "We can come back for them later."

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his sudden change of heart. Quickly regaining your composure, you slipped back into your assistant mode. "I could have them delivered and—"

"Don't worry about it, darlin'," Joel cut you off, his deep Southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine. "Let's go to the damn meeting before Tess starts tellin' me off again."

Without another word, Joel strode towards the waiting car, the driver opening the door as you followed, slipping into the plush leather seat beside him. The tension in the air was palpable, the unspoken emotions between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

As the car pulled away from the curb, you found yourself acutely aware of Joel's presence, his warmth and the subtle scent of his cologne enveloping you. The silence stretched on, neither of you quite sure how to navigate the charged atmosphere that had settled over the two of you.

You stole a glance at Joel, his brow furrowed in thought, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the armrest. You longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had suddenly opened between you, but the weight of your professional relationship held you back.

The drive to the office was a blur, the familiar sights and sounds of the city passing by in a haze as your mind raced with a thousand unspoken thoughts. When the car finally pulled to a stop, you both exited in silence, the weight of the unresolved tension hanging heavy in the air.

As you made your way through the bustling lobby, Joel's hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You couldn't help but wonder if the touch was intentional, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that simmered beneath the surface.

But as you turned to leave, Joel's voice stopped you in your tracks. "Darlin'," he murmured, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "We need to talk."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, unsure of what could possibly be running through Joel's mind. The intensity of his gaze only added to the butterflies in your stomach, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of hope and trepidation at what he might say.

"What is it, Joel?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

He took a step closer to you, his expression serious as he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you couldn't help but lean into it.

"I can't ignore this any longer," Joel began, his voice low and full of raw emotion. "I've been trying to fight it, but I can't deny how I feel about you any longer."

Your breath caught in your throat as he spoke those words, a rush of emotions flooding through you. Could it be possible that Joel felt the same way about you? Or was this all just some cruel joke?

"Joel..." You started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

"No, let me finish," he said firmly. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. And when we spent that night together at the charity event...I knew then that I had feelings for you."

You were speechless, unable to believe what was happening. You had harbored secret feelings for Joel for so long and never thought they would be reciprocated.

"I know there's the whole boss-assistant dynamic between us," Joel continued with a small self-deprecating smile. "But I can't let that hold me back from telling you how I feel."

A mix of emotions swirled inside you, and you couldn't help but feel torn. On one hand, you wanted to give into the feelings that had been building between you and Joel for so long. But on the other hand, the thought of risking your professional relationship and possibly even your job was a daunting prospect.

"Joel, I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

He reached out and took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to say anything right now," he said softly. "I just needed to tell you how I feel."

Silence fell between you as you both stood there, lost in your own thoughts. You were torn between what your heart wanted and what your head was telling you was logical.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you gathered the courage to speak again. "Joel, I care about you too," you admitted quietly. "But there are so many complications..."

"I know," he said with a sad smile. "But we can figure it out together."

His words filled you with hope and warmth, but at the same time fear also crept in. You knew that pursuing a romantic relationship with Joel would be risky and could potentially cause problems at work.

Before either of you could say more, there was a knock on Joel's office door. Startled out of your reverie, you both turned to see Chelsea peeking her head inside.

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt," she said apologetically. "But, Mr. Miller, we have that meeting with McKenna about the upcoming merger in 10 minutes."

After Chelsea left, Joel turned back to you, a hopeful expression on his face. "Can I see you later? Outside of work, I mean."

Your heart raced at the thought of spending more time with him outside of the office. You knew it was risky and could potentially cause problems, but the thrill of taking a chance with Joel was too enticing to resist.

"I'd like that...a lot," you replied, unable to stop a small smile from forming on your lips.

His face lit up at your response and he took a step closer towards you. "Can I kiss you?" he asked hesitantly.

You nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."

Without any hesitation, Joel leaned down and gently pressed his lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss at first, but quickly became more passionate as the chemistry between you two intensified. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss.

Eventually, the need for air forced you both to pull away. You gazed into each other's eyes, both panting slightly from the intensity of the moment.

"I should go," you said reluctantly.

Joel nodded and gave your hand one last squeeze before letting go. "I'll see you later then? I’ll meet you at your place.”

You smiled and nodded before heading out of his office. As you walked back to your own desk, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and what this could all mean for your future.

Later that evening, as you heard a knock at your door, you couldn't help but feel excited and nervous. You had been thinking about Joel all day and now here he was, standing outside your door with a beautiful bouquet of peonies.

You quickly peeked through the door viewer, confirming that it was indeed Joel standing there. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi Sweetheart," he said with his perfect smile, his dimple making an appearance on the left corner of his cheek.

"Hey," you replied with a bashful smile. "Come in."

Joel stepped inside, holding out the vase of peonies towards you. "I brought these for you," he said, his eyes sparkling with affection.

You took them from him and breathed in their sweet scent. "Oh, Joel, you remembered.”

"Anythin’ for you," Joel said with a small grin.

You couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you for remembering. They're beautiful. Thank you."

He shrugged nonchalantly before turning to take off his shoes. "So what should we do tonight? I can cook us dinner or we could go out somewhere if you prefer."

The idea of Joel cooking for you sounded wonderful, but at the same time, going out together also seemed like an exciting adventure.

"How about we have dinner here tonight and then we can go out tomorrow?" You suggested.

"That sounds perfect," Joel agreed with a smile.

As he prepared dinner in your kitchen, the two of you chatted comfortably about work and other random topics. It felt easy to talk to Joel and be around him, like it was just natural for the two of you to be together.

After enjoying a delicious dinner cooked by Joel (who turned out to be quite the chef), the two of you sat on your couch watching a movie. As the movie played on, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, his eyes intense as they flicked between the screen and your face. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows that danced across his features.

Joel shifted slightly, his arm brushing against yours and sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest, and found yourself caught in his gaze. Without a word, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The world around you faded away as Joel's mouth finally met yours in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over your body, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

You melted into each other, lost in a haze of passion and desire. Clothes were shed in a frenzy of need, skin meeting skin in a symphony of sensation. Joel's touch was electric, sending sparks throughout your body and setting every nerve on fire.

As you lay intertwined on the couch, your breathing heavy and your bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat, Joel's eyes searched yours intensely.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You couldn't form words as he began trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His hands explored every inch of your body, worshipping you with his touch.

"I want you," you finally managed to say, arching your back as he grazed his teeth along your collarbone.

With a growl, Joel lifted you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom. 

He laid you down on the bed with a hunger in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and dip as if he was mapping out his favorite treasure. You moaned softly as his lips grazed over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Joel's kisses grew more urgent, more demanding, igniting a primal need within you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered his name like a prayer. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth with a fierce intensity that made your head spin.

He teased and tormented you with his touch, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your breath hitched as he plunged into you, filling you completely and setting your senses ablaze.

The rhythm between you grew frantic, fueled by a hunger that could not be satisfied. Every thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body yearning for his touch, craving the sweet release that only he could bring.

He whispered filthy words into your ear, his voice gruff and raw with desire. "You want it," he growled, "You need it." His fingers gripped your hips, guiding you onto his shaft with deliberate precision. You groaned, lost in the ecstasy of his touch, your body begging for more.

He kissed you fiercely, his tongue dueling with yours, their movements synchronized with the wild rhythm of their bodies. His hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he explored every inch of your body with a possessive possessiveness.

You moaned, writhing against him, your body trembling with need, your heart pounding in sync with the frantic beat of his, as he plunged deeper into you with each thrust. Your nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks that would later serve as a reminder of this night.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he nuzzled your collarbone, then your chest, and finally your nipples, which hardened under the gentle caress of his tongue. You arched your back, your body craving for more, as his hands cupped your breasts, kneading them with a ferocity that made you gasp.

As he continued to ravage your body, you could feel the heat building between your legs, a fiery ache that begged for relief. Your hips bucked against his, seeking that sweet release, the friction sending spears of pleasure through you. He groaned, his own arousal swelling, and he thrust harder, his hips meshing with yours.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your curves, leaving trails of electricity in their wake. You arched your back, your breasts thrusting forward, begging for his attention. He didn't disappoint, his mouth closing over one taut nipple, teeth gently scraping against the sensitive flesh, while his other hand trailed down your side, slipping between your legs.

Your breath hitched as his fingers found their mark, teasing your swollen folds, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. Your body trembled, desperate for his touch, for him to drown you in sensation. He obliged, his fingers delving deeper, slick with your arousal. 

The roughness of his touch against your sensitive skin became a symphony of pleasure, as he slid in and out, his rhythm perfect, his fingers working in unison with the movements of his hips. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust.

“Fuck, c’mon darlin, be a good girl, give it to me,” He groaned, as he sensed your impending release and increased the speed of his fingers, sending you over the edge in a wave of pure ecstasy. Your back arched off the bed, your nails digging into his skin as you cried out his name. He followed you over, spilling into you with a guttural moan.

You collapsed onto the bed, spent and breathless, but he wasn't done with you yet. He rolled you onto your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. You felt him smirk against your back before he slammed into you again, filling you up completely.

His pace was rougher now, more primal as he claimed your body as his own. You met each thrust eagerly, reveling in the raw passion that flowed between you.

He reached around to caress your clit, adding another layer of stimulation to the already mind-blowing experience. Your moans and cries filled the room as he drove you both to new heights of pleasure.

As you were both on the verge of climax once again, he flipped you over onto your back and plunged into you one final time. With one hand gripping your thigh and the other tangled in your hair, he pounded into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

When he finally let go and spilled inside of you for a second time, it was like a dam had burst within both of them. You clung to each other as waves of pleasure washed over you both until eventually subsiding.

You lay there tangled together in a sweaty mess, your limbs intertwined as you both fought to catch your breath. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the sheets clinging to your bodies in a sensual embrace. As the haze lifted from your minds and your heart rates slowly returned to normal, you looked up at him and smiled, your eyes shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.

"That was incredible," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the delicate moment.

His lips curved into a satisfied grin, his gaze burning into you with a intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're incredible," he replied, his voice husky with desire, the words caressing your skin like a lover's touch.

You both lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. The sheets were tangled around the two of you, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the feeling of being intertwined with him, your bodies still connected in an intimate embrace.

A part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension, a nagging voice in the back of your mind warning you that this was uncharted territory. You were jumping headfirst into the deep end, and the risk of drowning was ever-present. But as you gazed into his eyes, the warmth and affection you saw there quelled your fears, replacing them with a sense of exhilaration and anticipation.

"I can't believe this is happening," you murmured, your fingers tracing the contours of his face, as if to reassure yourself that this was real. "I never thought we'd end up here, but I'm so glad we did."

He chuckled, the deep rumble of his laughter sending a shiver of delight through you. "Darlin', you have no idea how long I've been waitin' for this," he confessed, his hand caressing your cheek with a tenderness that belied the passion that had just consumed them.

You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mix of joy, trepidation, and a deep, abiding love that threatened to overwhelm you. "I'm scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm also so excited to see where this takes us."

His expression softened, and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, reassuring kiss. "I'm here, darlin'," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "We'll figure it out, together."

As you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, you knew that no matter the challenges, you would face them side by side. The risk of drowning may have been ever-present, but with him by your side, you were ready to dive in, to explore the depths of this newfound love and see where it would take you.

[v6quewrlds]

&.⠀⠀OFF THE TABLE I⠀⋆⠀JUSTIN HERBERT.

pairing⠀⁎⠀justin herbert x single mother!oc. word count⠀⁎⠀4.3k.

series summary⠀⁎⠀in maya's eyes, love has been completely off the table since the birth of her son, miles, six years ago. fate disagrees with maya's point of view, bringing her justin in more ways than one.

author's note⠀⁎⠀these chapters will generally be under 10k words. no idea how long it's gonna be, but i have several parts planned for the future <3 series warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, smut (none in this part), oc warning [maya atkins], single motherhood, friends with benefits, discussions of guilt, mention of deadbeat dads.

read more⠀⁎⠀justin herbert masterlist⠀⁎⠀part two.

The rumble of the car engine came to a stop as Maya pulled into the driveway of her parents' home. The right index finger of her unmanicured hand was pressed against the start/stop button, and she felt the subtle vibration under her thighs completely halt. She took a moment to gaze at the quiet street, the porch light casting a warm glow on the lawn. Streaks of gold mixed with pinks, purples, and midnight blue painted the sky, hinting at the end of a long week, yet the start of a long weekend.

She collected her keys, leaving her purse behind in the passenger's seat. Her heels hit the concrete one after the other, her muscles tensing as she pushed herself onto her feet. "Bag," she muttered to herself, turning towards the back doors of her recently upgraded Mazda CX-5. She grabbed the handle with her left hand and pulled open the door with a click. The smell of the leather interior melded with the faint scent of Miles' shampoo from his car seat. Her hand reached in to grab the bag she had packed for his weekend with his grandparents. Two of his favorite plushies, his book for the week—Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, his current hyperfixation was Roald Dahl chapter books, and a tablet (parental controlled to hell) with access to only educational content.

The bag slung over her right shoulder familiarly, though the stretch of her blazer pulled at the left. She locked the car with a habitual double press of the lock button on her keys, then turned on her heel to approach the house. Her eyes fell upon the welcome mat, slightly askew from a day of her parents' comings and goings. She corrected it with a gentle nudge of her foot before using her spare key to unlock the door.

"Mom, Dad," she called out, her voice echoing through the hallway. The smell of dinner lingered in the air—something rich and comforting that immediately made her stomach growl. She pulled her heels off, bending over to set them on the rack beside the door. Her feet sighed with relief as they met the cool tile. "Miles," she sang out, a smile playing on her lips. The patter of little feet grew closer, and before she could even straighten up, she was enveloped in a warm, sticky hug.

"Mommy!" Miles beamed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He held onto her tightly, his small body wriggling against hers.

"Hi, baby," she responded, feeling his energy and love in every inch of her being. She knelt down to return his embrace fully, her cheek pressing to his soft hair. "How was school today?"

"Good," he said, his voice muffled against her neck. "We had a pizza party!"

Maya chuckled. "Wow, sounds like a great Friday. Did you save any for me?"

Miles pulled away, his face flushed. "Nope, I ate it all," he said with a cheeky grin, his breathing heavy from the excitement of seeing his mom.

Maya laughed, brushing some lint away from his striped blue and orange t-shirt. "I bet it was real good, huh?" she said, standing up. She bent down to kiss him on the forehead, her eyes catching the glint of the gold necklace her mother had given her for her birthday years ago and saved when she outgrew it, so the necklace was now a permanent part of Miles' collection.

"Where's Papa and Mimi?" Maya asked, setting the bag down near the stairs. They had picked Miles up from school on her behalf, as they always did on Fridays which she used to meet with her clients located the farthest away from her central hub of Los Angeles County.

Miles looked up at her with those same brown eyes she saw in the mirror every morning, his little face a canvas of innocence and curiosity. "Papa is in the bathroom, and Mimi is in the kitchen," he said, pointing down the hall, reaching up for her hand to guide her.

Maya's mother, Brandy, emerged from the kitchen, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her daughter. She was a smaller woman, her natural coils that matched her daughter's were pulled back from her face with an extra-large claw clip Maya recognized as one likely stolen from her collection. The twist out on her 4B hair looked fresh, saturated with her favorite curl cream that smelled of shea butter.

"Maya, baby, how was your week?" she asked, her voice warm and inviting. She turned to face her daughter, dressed in a V-neck top and flared yoga pants. Her arms opened wide, ready to embrace her.

Maya stepped into the warm hug, feeling the stress of the week melt away. "It was busy, but productive," she replied, her voice muffled against her mother's shoulder. "How did the pick-up go?"

"It went well," Brandy said, pulling back to look at Maya. "You look good, baby. Did you finally get some rest?"

Maya nodded. "I had a meeting that ran late, but I managed to squeeze in a quick nap before I picked him up on Thursday." She took a deep breath, the aroma of her mother's perfume bringing a brush of comfort to her senses.

Her father, Raymond, appeared at the top of the stairs. "Look who's here," he boomed, his baritone voice filling the space. "You staying for dinner?"

Maya glanced at her watch, the digital face reading 6:45 PM. "Can't tonight, Dad. I'm heading down to that new place on Melrose for dinner and drinks," she said, reaching out to hug her father, who stumbled as Miles scrambled to hug his leg.

"Oh, okay," Raymond said, his eyes searching hers before he added. "You meeting someone?"

Maya shook her head with a roll of her eyes, "No, working again. The client I'm working with is struggling with menu items, just need to get an idea of what's out there, what's popular…" she responded, watching as Miles turned to run off for the door, presumably eager to dig into his bag of activities.

"Bubba, what do you need?" she called after him, watching as he disappeared into the living room.

"Nothing, Mommy, I got it," he yelled back, immediately following up with a 'rawr' signaling he had found his dinosaur plushie.

Brandy chuckled. "He's in a loud mood today," she said, stepping aside to let Maya into the kitchen. The counters were cleared of the usual clutter, a sign that her mother had spent most of the day cleaning in preparation for Hurricane Miles. "How long do you think you'll be out tonight?"

Maya shrugged. "As long as it takes, I guess. I'll text when I'm on my way home," she said, leaning against the kitchen counter, her eyes scanning over the fridge covered in her son's artwork. And there it was, that creeping of guilt into her stomach. She knew her parents looked forward to their weekends with Miles, but she couldn't help the feeling that she was abandoning him. It was a sinking feeling that she had grown accustomed to over the years, especially when work called on her weekends.

"You're thinking too deep, Maya," Raymond said, his hand landing on Maya's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "You work hard all week, you deserve a break. Get your work done, go home, sleep in—" before he could complete his thought, her mother interrupted.

"Don't be shy to get some," Brandy added with a knowing smile. Maya chuckled, rolling her eyes. Her parents had always been blunt about their desires for her to find someone, but she was always amused by the bluntness of it all. She hadn't had a serious relationship since Miles' dad, and even that was more of a whirlwind romance that ended with a baby and a lot of unanswered questions.

"I'm just going to check on Miles before I head out," Maya said, making her way to the living room. Her son was sprawled on the floor, the backpack wide open, its contents spilling out like a treasure chest of toys and books. She squatted beside him, her hand smoothing over his hair. "Remember to be good for Mimi and Papa, okay?"

Miles looked up at her with those big, innocent eyes. "I will, Mommy. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, sweetie," Maya said, her voice thick with affection. She gave him another kiss, then stood, her eyes following him as he turned back to his toys to continue playing. She took a deep breath, gathering herself.

"Okay, I'm heading out," she called out to her parents, picking up her purse and sliding her feet back into her heels. "Let me know if you all need anything, okay?"

"We're fine, baby," Brandy said, waving her off with a dish towel. "You go do what you have to do. Enjoy your weekend, honey."

Maya nodded, slipping her phone into her pocket and grabbing her bag. "Love you, Miles," she called out, her heels clicking against the floor as she made her way to the door. She stepped out into the cool evening air, the breeze playing with her hair. She took a moment to appreciate the quiet of the neighborhood before climbing into her car and heading towards Melrose.

The restaurant was already bustling when she arrived, the neon lights flickering in the windows. She stepped inside, the low murmur of conversation and the clink of glasses filling her ears. The hostess, a young woman with a sleek bob, glanced up from her podium. "Just one tonight?" she asked, her eyes scanning Maya from head to toe.

Maya nodded. "Yes, just me. Do you offer food at the bar?"

The hostess smiled, grabbing two menus. "Absolutely," she said, leading Maya through the crowded dining area to the bar. The space was intimate, with high-backed stools and a polished mahogany bar that gleamed under the soft lights. She took a seat at the corner, her back to the wall, and opened her notebook to the page she had reserved for the night's findings.

She scribbled her first observations, namely the lighting—soft and flattering, a good balance between mood and practicality—and the music, a mix of old school R&B and contemporary jazz that created an ambiance that was both nostalgic and modern. The bar was a blend of chrome and glass, with bottles of various liquors arranged with the precision of a museum exhibit.

"What can I get you, gorgeous?" the bartender, a man in his early 30s with a clean-shaven face and a friendly smile, asked as he approached her.

Maya looked up from her notebook and gave him a polite smile. "I'll warn you I'm a culinary consultant, so please forgive me if I annoy you tonight," she said, her voice a smooth blend of humor and apology. "Could I start with a non-alcoholic mojito?"

The bartender grinned. "Not a problem, I've had my fair share of picky customers," he joked, getting to work on her drink. "What brings you here? Just work?"

Maya nodded, watching him mix the mint and lime with soda water. "Always," she replied, her eyes taking in the freshness of the ingredients set in front of him. "I've got a client looking to spice up their menu, and I want to see what's working for others before I make any suggestions."

The bartender slid her drink over, the mint leaves bobbing at the top. She took a sip, her eyes closing as she savored the crispness of the mint and the sweetness of the lime. It was perfect, and she made a note of that. "You're in luck," he said. "We just revamped ours last week. If you're looking for inspiration, I can give you the rundown on what's selling and what's not."

Maya's eyes lit up. "That would be amazing," she said though her head turned at the sound of a guest attempting to capture the bartender's attention. "Come find me when you're free," she told him gesturing behind him. "I'll be here a while," she finished with a laugh.

The bartender nodded and moved off to serve the waiting customer, leaving Maya to sip her drink and continue her observations. She noticed the way the staff interacted with each other and the guests, the efficiency of their movements, and the presentation of the food that was being delivered. She made notes about the cleanliness of the bar and the variety of the non-alcoholic options, something that she felt was often lacking in similar establishments.

As the evening progressed, she ordered a few more items from the menu, each one carefully considered and critiqued in her notes. The bartender, whose name she had learned was Caleb, checked in with her periodically, offering insights into the popularity of certain dishes and sharing a few stories about the chefs that had created them. The conversation flowed easily between them, a blend of professional curiosity and friendly banter that had her relaxing more and more as the night went on.

The low murmurs of the restaurant at the beginning of the night slowly grew to all all-out chatter and laughter as more guests filled the space. Maya's notebook was now a canvas of scribbled notes surrounded by three half-eaten appetizers and an empty mojito glass. Caleb, the bartender, had been true to his word, keeping her informed of the bestsellers and even slipping in some behind-the-scenes gossip about the staff drama.

With the swell of guests, she decided to take a backseat, allowing him to handle the busy crowd. As the night grew later, the restaurant's energy remained high. Taking another look at the menu, she picked out a dessert to end the evening with, lifting her head to begin an attempt to catch Caleb's eye.

Her efforts proved increasingly difficult as Caleb found himself pulled in all directions by guests across a spectrum of intoxication levels, each demanding his attention. She pursed her lips, watching him juggle drink orders and good-natured banter with a skill that suggested he'd been born to this life.

As she sought to capture the bartender's attention once more, she felt a presence beside her. She glanced over to find a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark shirt and dark wash jeans, his handsome face framed by the dusting of his well-groomed facial hair across the lower half. His sandy hair curled perfectly around his ears, thick enough that she could make out layers, but not long enough that it touched his shoulders. Her second glance over his frame brought her a brief moment of shock as she took in just how tall he was. He looked at her with a friendly smile and leaned in, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the din.

"You need the bartender?" the man asked, his voice a rich baritone that resonated through the room. Maya nodded, a bit taken aback by his proximity. "I got you," he said, raising a hand to signal Caleb. The bartender nodded in recognition and held up an index finger, signaling she would be next.

"I'm Justin, by the way," the man introduced himself, extending a hand as he leaned against the bar.

Maya took a moment to appreciate the confidence in his grip and the way his eyes held hers as she took in his athletic build. "Maya," she replied, her voice a touch lighter than she intended. "Thanks for the help."

Justin nodded, his smile never faltering. "No problem. This is the busiest I've ever seen this place." He glanced around the crowded restaurant, his eyes reflecting the lights from the bar.

Maya took another sip of her drink, her gaze lingering on the group of men at the end of the bar. They were all tall and muscular, their laughter booming through the room. "You come here often?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by their presence.

"Not really," he admitted. "But when you're in town with friends, you tend to follow the crowd." He nodded towards the group, who were now looking their way.

The bartender, Caleb, made his way over, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he caught the interaction between Maya and Justin. "Another drink, Maya?" he asked, his eyes darting to Justin before returning to her.

"Dessert this time, then I'm heading out," Maya said to Caleb. "I'll do the cinnamon baklava roll-ups, to go, please. And put whatever his drink is on my tab," she added, gesturing to Justin.

Justin's eyes widened slightly. "You don't have to do that," he protested, reaching for his wallet.

Maya waved him off, her head shaking. "Consider it a thank you for saving me," she quipped, reaching in her bag to find her wallet.

Justin's hand remained outstretched, his eyebrows rising. "I can't let you do that," he said, his voice firm.

Maya chuckled, pulling out her credit card and placing it firmly on the bar. "I've got it," she assured him, her voice steady. "I'll just charge my next client extra to make up for it," she joked, her professional persona slipping slightly to reveal a playful side that matched the lightness in her eyes.

Justin hesitated for a moment before conceding with a grin. "Alright, I'll just get another Blue Moon, thanks, man." He nodded to Caleb, who took the cue to serve him up. "So, while we wait, tell me about these clients you charge exorbitant amounts for your time," he said, leaning slightly closer, his eyes sparkling.

Maya couldn't help but laugh. "It's not quite that dramatic," she said, her cheeks warming. "I'm a culinary consultant. I help restaurants and bars refine their menus, train their staff, troubleshoot, that kind of thing."

Justin nodded. His gaze was genuine, and Maya felt a flutter in her stomach. "That's pretty cool," he said. "Did you go to culinary school or something?"

Maya took a moment to appreciate his curiosity before responding. "Yeah, I did," she said. "But I realized that strictly cooking wasn't for me. I'm more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person. I like new challenges, I get to work with different kitchens and concepts. It keeps things interesting."

"So what would you recommend from this menu?" Justin asked, his eyes scanning over the list of exotic cocktails and tapas.

Maya's gaze followed his, her mind racing through the dishes she'd tried so far. "If you're into spice, the habanero-infused guacamole is amazing with the plantain chips," she said, her voice taking on a professional tone. "But if you're looking for something sweet, the churros with the caramel rum sauce are amazing."

Justin nodded thoughtfully, his eyes shifting up to take in her side profile. "I'm more of a savory guy," he said. "Did you try the chicken tacos?"

"I did," Maya said, her smile widening as she motioned to the sample to her right. "They're pretty good. The meat's cooked really nice, not too much heat. Ask for the pineapple salsa on the side to avoid getting them too soggy."

Justin's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he spoke up again. "It wouldn't be too forward of me to ask for your number, would it?"

Maya's heart skipped a beat. She had been enjoying the conversation, but she wasn't expecting this. She took a deep breath, contemplating the implications. "Maybe," she said coyly. "Depends on why you want it."

Justin leaned in, his voice lowering. "Well, I'd love to pick your brain about more of these hidden gems in the city," he said. "And maybe, if you're down for it, I'd like to take you out for a drink. You know, to thank you for the advice and to make up for the fact that I didn't pay for that last one."

Maya felt a warmth spread through her chest, his words carrying an undeniable charm. She studied him for a moment, taking in the confidence that seemed so natural to him. "Alright," she said finally, taking his phone in her hand. "Does this make us even?"

Justin grinned as he watched her type in her number. "More than," he said, taking his phone back and sending her a quick text to confirm they had connected. The vibration sounded in her purse, and she pulled out her own phone to read the simple message:

This is Justin. Looking forward to seeing you again.

Maya felt a thrill of excitement. It had been a while since she'd felt this way, but she couldn't ignore the little voice in the back of her mind reminding her of her responsibilities. She pushed that little voice to the side, taking a deep breath just as Caleb returned with her to-go dessert. She took it with a smile, feeling the warmth flood through the white plastic bag. She stood from her bar stool, taking in the height difference between herself and Justin. Her head tilted up to meet his eye contact, and she couldn't help but appreciate the way he had to look down at her, not in a patronizing way, but as if he were frozen in place, worried that if he broke eye contact, she'd vanish into thin air.

"I should get going," she said, the words feeling awkward on her tongue. "I have an early morning with a client."

Justin nodded, stepping back to allow her space to move in the direction of the exit. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe we can do this again sometime?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Maya felt a tug at her heart, the kind she hadn't felt in a long time. "I'd like that," she replied, her eyes shining. "Have a good night with your friends."

"You too," Justin said, his gaze lingering on her before she turned to leave. She walked out of the bar, the cool Pacific air taking over the warmth that had settled over her skin. As she got into her car, she couldn't help but open up the message thread again, her heart racing as she reread his words. The simplicity of it—the fluttering flush of crushing—was surprisingly sweet, and she found herself smiling to herself in the quiet of the driver's seat.

Maya made the short trip home, her thoughts swirling around the encounter with Justin. She knew she couldn't get too invested—she had Miles to think about, her career to focus on—but it was difficult to ignore the excitement bubbling within her.

The hours of the next morning melted together as Maya spent the majority of her day with her client. The conversation with Justin lingered in her mind like the sweet scent of cinnamon from the baklava rolls. When her phone buzzed with a message from an unsaved number as she made the drive home, she felt a mix of excitement and trepidation.

It was simple:

How was your day?

Yet her heart skipped a beat as she read the message, recognizing the sender as none other than Justin. She set her phone aside, brainstorming a potential reply as she hit the highway toward Culver City. It was a simple text, but it felt loaded with potential. The weight of her son's importance in her life rested heavily on her shoulders, but for a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in the flirty banter that had been so long absent from her world.

Maya parked in her driveway and took a deep breath before responding.

Busy, but productive.

She texted back, keeping it casual.

How about yours?

Justin's reply came quite quickly after, relating to her woes and easing into a smooth conversation.

The male attention was a welcome change of pace for Maya, whose life had been seized by the relentless grind of single motherhood and career ambition. The conversation with Justin was a breath of fresh air, a reminder that there was more to her than just being Miles' mom.

Have you recovered from my interception last night?

Maya's text echoed in Justin's mind, bringing a smile to his face as he read it in the locker room. He quickly responded, playing along with the banter.

Barely.

He typed.

But I'm willing to let it slide if you give me a chance to redeem myself.

His foot tapped anxiously as he watched those three dots signaling her typing appeared at the bottom of the text thread. The anticipation grew as the message popped up:

Well, if you're feeling generous, maybe we could meet somewhere whenever you're free?

Justin's smile grew. He had hoped their encounter wasn't just a one-off fluke.

I'd like that.

He replied, trying to keep his excitement in check.

I should check my schedule, but I'll get back to you with a few dates.

The schedule in question had nearly two entire weeks blocked off between the start of OTAs and some promotional appearances and photoshoots. He figured he'd take another look at his schedule when he was home, sitting down, and freshly showered without the wandering gazes of his teammates who still circled in the locker room.

So he left it there, gathered his towel, and headed for the showers.

Leaving it there stretched on, the dates left unchecked, the promise of getting back to her forgotten. As the days passed, Maya found herself touching the edge of disappointment, scooching close to tumbling over when she checked her phone for a follow-up or even just an apology for disappearing that never came. She reasoned it was for the best, that she had Miles to focus on, and that maybe, just maybe, she'd dodged a bullet with a tall, charming man who likely had more women in his lineup than he could count.

So she threw herself back into her work, balancing motherhood and her consulting gigs with renewed vigor, trying her best to shake off the sting of "what if?".

[rosecoloredsunshine]

hot ones — evan peters

masterlist

PAIRINGS: evan peters x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and evan decided to take on the hot ones spicy wings challenge.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, wedding talks, established relationship, reader is an 'unofficially retired' actress, fluff attempt, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this has been written more as a self-indulgent fic lol. my requests for evan fics are open, so if you have any, just send me an ask. hope you'll enjoy this one! :)

You and Evan are inside a sleek, industrial-chic studio of Hot Ones, and sitting across from Sean Evans with a row of perfectly arranged and intimidating glazed wings between you and Evan. The set’s familiar aesthetic—black brick backdrop and neon accents, brings a grin to your face. You have seen countless celebrities get wrecked by these fiery wings. Now, it’s your turn.

“You sure you wanna do this, babe?” his eyes glinting with playful concern. “I know how you feel about spicy food.”

“I’ve survived worse,” you quipped, but your grin falters slightly when you glance at the perfectly arranged wings. “Besides, I couldn't let you have all the fun.”

“You’ve got a very loose definition of fun,” he chuckled, corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Evan’s hand finds yours beneath the table, fingers intertwining together like second nature. Sean smiled with the kind of enthusiasm that comes from years of watching people suffer through the gauntlet, and clasped his hands together.

“Welcome to Hot Ones, the show with hot questions and even hotter wings. Today, we’ve got a special couple’s episode with none other than one of Hollywood’s most beloved couples!”

“Beloved,” you repeat with a laugh, leaning into Evan’s shoulder. “I like the sound of that.”

“Right?” Evan grins, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “We must be doing something right.”

You and Evan turned towards the camera, with Evan giving a little wave to the camera, while you offered a sheepish smile.

“So,” Sean continues, “before we get into the heat, I gotta ask, how did you both end up agreeing to this? I know, from what I’ve heard, you’re not exactly a fan of spicy food.”

You laughed, already feeling your nerves dissipating. “Well yeah, I’m definitely not a fan. But I thought it would be a fun experience. Plus, Evan wanted to do it, and I couldn't let him suffer alone.”

Evan chuckles, squeezing your hand gently. “She’s braver than she thinks. I’m just here to make sure she doesn't regret it halfway through.”

“That’s true love right there,” Sean grins. “Alright, let’s start with the first wing.”

You and Evan each take a wing. It’s barely spicy, just a hint of heat, and you manage it with ease, earning an approving nod from Evan.

“That’s not bad,” you say, a bit more confident. “Famous last words.”

The three of you let out a laugh. Sean glances at his cue cards. “So, let’s kick things off. You two have been together for six years and recently got engaged. Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you and Evan said in unison, making Sean laugh.

“Was the proposal a surprise?” Sean asked.

You glanced at Evan, a fond smile appearing on your lips. “Completely. We were on a trip to Japan for my birthday, and I thought that it was just a celebration for that occasion, but it turns out that Evan had this whole plan. I was completely caught off guard.”

Evan grins, remembering the memory. “She kept saying, ‘are you serious?’ like five times before actually saying yes.”

You nudged him lightly, laughing. “It was just a lot to process! I wasn't really expecting it.”

Sean leans forward, intrigued. “Was it nerve-wracking, Evan?”

“Oh absolutely,” Evan admits. “I was more nervous than when I go on set. But when she smiled, I knew that it was the right moment, and she did say yes, eventually.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, eventually.”

The next wing has a bit more kick to it, and you’re starting to feel a tingle on your lips. Evan had noticed immediately, and turned towards you.

“Doing okay?” he asked softly.

You nod, breathing out a little. “Still manageable.”

“You’re doing great,” Sean coaxed. “Since we're on the topic, you have any wedding plans set?”

You had exchanged a look with Evan, both of you smiling. “We’re keeping it small and intimate,” Evan says. “Close family and friends. We’re still working out the details, but we know it’ll be somewhere meaningful to us.”

“Can I expect an invitation?” Sean jokes.

You laughed softly, surprising yourself. “Sure, why not. We’ll make sure you get one.”

“Oh really? Thank you!” Sean smiled. “Okay, before we dive into the next wing, I have to ask, who’s the better cook between you two?”

Evan chuckled before you even got the chance to respond. “She is, hands down.”

You smiled. “You cook fine, babe. When you’re not burning grilled cheese.”

“Which happens?” Sean prompted, eyes gleaming with interest.

“Often enough that the smoke detector hates him,” you said with a laugh.

Evan raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, true. But her cooking is on a whole other level.”

Sean laughs. “I’d love to see you two do a cooking show together in the future. Maybe some spicy dishes next time?”

You groaned playfully, eyeing the next wing on the table. “I think after today, I’m going to avoid spice for a good while.”

“Speaking of the future,” Sean says, reaching for another cue card. “Since you’ve taken a step back from acting, and Evan’s still heavily involved, has that changed anything for you two? I mean, with you being away from the industry and all.”

You glanced at Evan and smiled softly. “I thought it would be difficult at first. But Evan’s always been supportive, and I decided to step back because I wanted to focus on other things. It’s given me time to explore other passions.”

“She still visits me on set, though,” Evan adds, eyes softening. “And everyone always loves having her around. I think the crew likes her more than me.”

You smiled softly. “They just like the cookies and muffins that I bring.”

Sean chuckles. “Seems like you two have a pretty solid dynamic. Which brings me to my next question, what’s the secret to making it work for so long? Six years is impressive in Hollywood years, it’s hard to reach that kind of longevity, especially that you both are in the industry.”

Evan turns to you, eyebrows raised as if the answer is pretty obvious. “We just get each other, and honestly, I think being best friends at first really helped. We’re ridiculously comfortable around each other.”

“Ridiculously is right,” you agree, smiling. “We’ve been through everything together. The good, bad, utterly chaotic, you name it. But we always talk things through.”

Sean nods thoughtfully. “Communication. A classic, but always true.”

The next wing awaits, and you hesitate before taking a bite of it. Evan watches you carefully, waiting to see how you would react.

When the heat hits you immediately, your eyes widen. “Oh, my god.”

Evan laughs, though he’s wincing through his own bite. “That’s…oof, wow.”

You reached for your water, but Evan already has the glass of milk ready for you. “No baby, drink this instead. The water makes it worse.”

You took the glass of milk gracefully, fingers brushing as you sip. “You’re the best.

“Always,” he replies, gaze lingering on you.

Sean smirks, taking in the moment. “Alright, I think we need to dig into something else before you both pass out from the heat.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as your eyes begin to water. “Yes, please.”

“Evan, you’ve been killing it in all these dramatic roles. But do you ever see yourself doing something lighter? Maybe a rom-com?” Sean asks.

Evan shrugs, wiping his lips with a napkin. “Honestly? Maybe. I think it would be fun, why not. Especially if I could work with her again.”

You raised your brows in surprise. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I mean, you’re an amazing actress, and I do miss working with you.”

The sincerity in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Sean seems to pick up on it, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “So, any chance we’ll see you back on screen soon?”

You laughed nervously. “Maybe. I mean, I’ve been tempted, especially with Evan constantly trying to rope me back in.”

Evan smiled brightly. “We’ve joked about it a couple of times. But she’s hard to convince.”

“More like you haven't pitched me anything compelling enough,” you teased, taking a sip of the water. “You’d have to really sell it.”

“Oh, I can sell it,” Evan laughs. “Just wait, one of these days.”

The last wing was brutal. The second that you bite into it, your entire mouth feels like it’s on fire. You clutch Evan’s arm, face scrunching in pain as you try not to let the heat overwhelm you.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, chugging the milk Evan hands you. “Why did I agree to this?”

Evan is faring only slightly better, tears pooling in his eyes. “Because you love me?”

“I might reconsider that after this,” you joked, voice a little hoarse.

Sean was laughing, clearly entertained by the chaos. “You guys survived!”

“I’m just glad I did this with you,” Evan says, rubbing your back gently as you recover. “Even if you hate me for it now.”

You glanced up at him, slight tears streaming down your face but still managing a smile. “Could never hate you.”

Once the video had wrapped up, you and Evan found yourselves hanging out backstage of the Hot Ones studio. You collapsed onto a couch with a tub of ice cream between you, as Evan watches you like you’re the only person in the world.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, voice low and sincere.

“I did it,” you say, mostly to yourself than anyone else. “I actually did it.”

Evan leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You did, and you were amazing.”

“Guess we have to cancel our sushi dinner, because I’ll be feeling these spicy wings on my mouth for a good couple of hours,” Evan laughed as you rested your head on his shoulder, still working through the lingering heat. “Next time, let’s just do a cooking show.”

Evan laughed again, wrapping an arm around you. “Deal.”

© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025

[bangtanintotheroom]

Just Like Candy (M)

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

🔊 candy - doja cat (spotify | soundcloud) 🔊

• Pairing: S.Coups x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Smut

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 7.3k

• Summary: Following a breakup, Seungcheol is looking for a distraction for the night. You catch his eye with your red lips and the rest is history.

• Warnings/themes: mentions of a breakup, sulky Cheol 🥲, his friends are real ones, drinking, swearing, one night stand, flirting, making out, dirty talk, handjobs, fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), c*me swallowing, strength kink, manhandling, hint of begging, OC’s lips are often compared to 🍒

• Notes: Welp, here it is; my first Cheol fic! I didn't plan to take this long to finish, but between work, getting sick and my bestie's birthday, ya girl has been busyyy 🥲 but here he is, so enjoy! 🎉 much thanks to @hobeemin for the beta! 💖

Seungcheol was barely paying attention to his friends' conversation, trying desperately not to go onto his ex’s Instagram and check her recent stories. But every time his thumb hovers over the multi-colored circle with her smiling face, the recent events play through his mind. It leaves a bitterness on his tongue, which ends up with him closing the app for what must have been the fifth time.

“Hyung, get off of there.”

He looked up to see Wonwoo giving him a stare of sternness mixed with worry, feeling sheepish that he was caught red-handed. Then again, he must have noticed earlier and only chose to say something now.

“Sorry.”

Wonwoo sighed, leaning in and speaking lowly, “If you keep going on there, I’m going to confiscate your phone.”

Seungcheol’s brows knitted at the warning.

“And what if someone tries to reach me?”

“Then I’ll give it back, but until then, you won’t have phone privileges.”

He couldn’t help but click his tongue. As annoying as the threat was, he secretly appreciated Wonwoo’s way of keeping him from doing something he might regret, like reaching out to his ex less than two weeks later rather than continuing to play it cool.

It wasn’t heartbreak, per se, just a loss of familiarity and a routine that bothered him. He was used to checking up on her at certain times, often receiving the same energy back. Plus, the lack of cuddling and deficiency of sex was about to start making him restless.

He appreciated the tough love because the rest of the men in the car showed their support by dragging him to an unruly house party that he wasn’t even sure he’d enjoy.

“Yah, is he on his phone again?”

Wonwoo replied to Seungkwan’s question from the front with, “He sure is.”

Every other occupant groaned in exasperation, Chan peering around him to scold, “Seungcheol-hyung, focus! You’re supposed to have fun with us tonight, not pine over her!”

“Just block her already!”

Seungcheol quickly snapped at Joshua’s quip, “No, because then I’ll look bitter.”

“So?”

Seungkwan turned around in the passenger seat to look directly at him, seeming to be about to give the most unhelpful advice ever.

“Hyung, you want my suggestion?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Fuck her feelings, respectfully—” He was quick to throw in that word after the elder’s face began twisting in displeasure. “—she decided to end it, and she’s out there living her best life while you’re moping around. Be selfish for once and focus on your well-being!”

Chan joined in, “Exactly! Are you going to let her distract you from having a good time with us tonight?”

The eldest wanted to fight back on instinct, but the more he stewed on his friends’ words, the more he realized they had a point. What was the use of getting in his feelings? He’d just end up being the downer of the group and waste the effort they put in to have him get dressed and come out. Even though it had been a while since he went to a party of this size, the tiniest part of him was excited. His ex was the type to avoid get-togethers like this, so he often put off the guys’ invites in favor of pleasing her.

But she wasn’t around anymore…

He sighed heavily. Hopefully, he’d be distracted enough that she wouldn’t run through his mind until he returned to his bed and deleted more of their couple pictures.

“No, I’m not.”

His response was met with a round of cheers, drowning out the hip-hop blaring from the speakers.

“That’s the spirit!”

Joshua took advantage of the red light to turn and shoot a proud smile.

“We just want you to have fun, yeah? So quit sulking.”

Seungcheol did himself no favors by narrowing his eyes and pushing his lower lip out.

“I’m not sulking.”

As expected, Joshua gave an eye roll amidst the chorus of laughter, turning back around to continue driving. Seungcheol decided to get more involved in the conversation for the rest of the trip, only glancing at his phone for notifications. Not once did he hop onto Instagram, choosing to entertain a heated debate over who would be the first casualty tonight. His money was on Seungkwan, who fought against the accusation with insistence.

Either way, he hoped his friends continued to distract him for the rest of the night like this.

The plan to distract Seungcheol was going poorly. Actually, no. Poorly was an understatement.

It was going horrendously.

Everything was fine when they stepped into the party. It was easy to get accustomed to the noise and the crowd of bodies, especially once a red cup was shoved into his hand. One of his favorite songs was even playing, his foot automatically tapping to the beat while listening to Joshua and Chan converse.

But it went horribly awry when a drunk Seokmin and Soonyoung bounded up to them, asking where his other half was.

His reaction was as instantaneous as his friends’, yet more subtle. Seungcheol tensed up and clenched his jaw, fingertips making a dent in the plastic cup. Of course, the duo was too far gone to see his sudden change in mood; they only blinked in confusion when Seungkwan began yelling at them for their goof. Just as Wonwoo started explaining why their greeting was poorly thought out, the eldest quickly excused himself, turning and making a beeline for the much less crowded kitchen.

He wasn’t sure if he needed something more substantial to drink or to remove himself from a messy situation. Either way, he ended up staring blankly into the icy assortment of beers in front of one of the many coolers.

So much for distracting himself tonight.

“Excuse me?”

A steady voice brought him out of his wallowing, looking over his shoulder to see a young woman standing behind him, pointing to the cooler.

“Mind if I get in there?”

“O-Oh. Sorry.”

Seungcheol swiftly stepped aside, feeling a bit abashed at getting in the way. You didn’t seem to mind too much though, sending a smile as you squatted down to begin rummaging through your options.

“Indecisive?”

He blinked at your query.

“Huh?”

You continued speaking while rifling through, “You were staring down here for a hot minute.”

Oh shit, was he? Damn. He must have looked like a party pooper, no doubt sulking as he tried to get himself back into a festive mood.

“Uh, yes, let’s call it that…”

A giggle escaped at the unconvincing reply. Within a few seconds, you popped back up with two different-looking bottles in each hand.

“Are you more of a fruity or bitter kind of guy?”

“Bitter.”

You held out one of the beers, waiting until he took it with a bit of confusion mixed with gratitude.

“Thank you…”

“Of course. You look like you need it.”

Seungcheol huffed, shoulders sagging a bit as he smiled pensively.

“That bad, huh?”

A nod was given, albeit paired with a sympathetic look.

“Yeah.”

He sighed at your observation, the urge to crawl away and hide in a corner until the party ended coming strong. This was another thing he wanted to avoid: the pity people would give him. In the words of Chan, he looked like a lost puppy whenever he caught him thinking about his ex. Surely, that’s what you were reminded of as you continued to gaze up at him.

“My friends dragged me here to distract me from…recent events, but I don’t think it’s working very well.”

“I can see that. I rarely see people not enjoying themselves at one of Seokmin’s parties.”

Your words might have had sincerity, but Seungcheol could only feel more insecure. He stuck out like a sore thumb; that was the last thing he wanted to happen tonight.

Just as he was about to excuse himself to wallow in misery, you asked something that caught him off-guard.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Seungcheol couldn’t help but blink rapidly, ensuring he didn’t mishear you.

A complete stranger offering an ear?

“No, I couldn’t burden you; I’m sure you came to have fun.”

But you were undeterred, shrugging nonchalantly.

“It’s fine, really. I could use some quiet time—” You grinned without an ounce of regret. “—and sometimes it’s good to have a stranger’s ear, no?”

Well…you weren’t wrong. Although Seungcheol wasn’t expecting to find a willing participant at a house party, of all places. But you seemed eager to help, and God knows his friends have probably heard enough of his lamenting by now.

A shrug of his shoulders was followed by, “If you’re offering, sure.”

Your smile stretched even wider at his approval, reaching for his free hand with your own before leading him to the sliding glass doors on the other side of the room.

“Step into my office.”

“Let me guess…a breakup?”

Straight to the point.

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

He needed to take a swig to answer this.

“Two years.”

It was no surprise to see a grimace on your face.

“Yikes. My condolences.”

Seungcheol wasn’t sure if he tried to ease you or himself with the comforting smile he gave.

“Thank you, but breakups happen all the time. I’ll be over it soon.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck right now. Nothing wrong with wallowing in misery.”

He scoffed lightly, “Trust me, I’ve been doing more than enough of that.”

You hummed, seeming to understand.

“So was she ‘the one’?”

Seungcheol paused in raising his beer bottle, thick brows scrunching as he took a few seconds to ponder before shaking his head.

“No, I wouldn’t say that. It was serious, but not that serious.”

You nodded, yet there was a bout of silence afterward while he stewed on how to express his feelings since the first night his former girlfriend removed her possessions from his place.

“I think it’s…like something is missing. Like I was so used to having her around and there to talk to or spend time with, it feels off.”

“You got comfortable.”

Seungcheol continued, “I did. And now she’s not here anymore.”

Saying this admission out loud pulled the deepest of sighs from his lungs.

“It’s just going to take some getting used to.”

“But you’ll be okay…one day.”

Your sincerity in tone made his head turn, and he saw you gazing at him with something akin to optimism.

“It might not be tomorrow. Might not be next week. But it’ll get easier one day and you’ll be able to think about her without feeling like you’re missing out. Trust me—“ The way your mouth quirked humorlessly on one side as you glanced through the window spoke volumes. “—I know.”

Seungcheol watched as your eyes lingered on the house, seeming to allude to a specific person. He couldn’t help but turn to see if he could figure it out. His answer was received when he spotted a handsome man with cropped black hair getting close to a giggling woman. Sure enough, the look in your eyes was close to what he had expressed lately.

No wonder you offered to hear him out.

“I’m sorry.”

His words broke your trance, turning back to blink rapidly before chuckling.

“Thank you, but it was for the best. He wasn’t exactly the most faithful.”

Seungcheol frowned. “Ouch.”

“Mhm. Well, it is what it is. Now we’re free to fool around with whoever we want, so everyone wins!”

He couldn’t hold back a small laugh at your exuberant claim.

“You have a point.”

The grin you directed at him made his own wider. He didn’t expect a stranger to ease the trouble brewing inside tonight, but your perspective on the situation was refreshing. If anything, his determination to enjoy the party to the fullest returned. You probably wanted to get back to whatever you were doing before, too…

“Thank you for offering your ear. I’m sure you want to return to the party now, right?”

Just as Seungcheol started shifting to stand up, you held up your free hand to halt him.

“I don’t mind hanging with you some more. My friends are kind of bouncing around and doing their own thing, but if you want to go to yours, I’ll let you go.”

…but did he want to go to them?

“I…Honestly, I’m not in a rush, but please don’t feel obligated to stick around.”

Your expression shifted into one of ease.

“No obligation on my end. I kind of…want to keep talking to you.”

Seungcheol’s dark eyes widened at your admission, taken off-guard. “You do?”

“Mhm. You seem cool, uh—”

Right. Neither of you had given your names.

“Seungcheol.”

You quickly clasp the hand he held out, shaking it with a smile.

“Y/N.”

Your hold lingered for a bit, fingers dragging along his own when you finally released, making the tiniest of tugs occur in his stomach. He couldn’t help but be a little excited that you wanted to keep talking to him, expecting to go your separate ways after he vented. The mutual feeling gave him a burst of emotion that needed an outlet, excusing himself to grab another beer for the both of you.

Your ex was still in the kitchen, tongue now tangled with the other woman. Seungcheol couldn’t help but scrunch his nose a little at the sight, mainly thanks to what you had told him earlier. But he fought against the urge to toss an ice cube from the cooler at his head and left with a bottle in each hand, giving one to you as soon as he returned.

“Thank you!” Once he got back in his seat, you held your drink up in the air. “To a fun night! Oh, and fuck our exes.”

Seungcheol laughed at your ad-lib, joining in by tapping his bottle against yours. The two of you moved onto much lighter topics, getting to know each other while sitting on the quiet patio. You were better acquainted with the party host than he was, mentioning how you tended to attend most of Seokmin’s get-togethers. He wondered if he had ever passed by you before or vice versa; a shame it took this long to meet.

At some point, the gap between your bodies had dwindled, knees bumping into each other as you showed off pictures of your pets. The way you cooed and had stars in your eyes as he scrolled through his endless gallery of Kkuma pics didn’t fail to warm his heart. And seeing how your chest puffed while bragging about your own fur baby only made it worse.

But then the phones went down and the mood shifted eventually.

The alcohol and good conversation led to Seungcheol noticing little things about you. Like how you rubbed your collarbones whenever you were deep in thought. Or that you kept grabbing onto his thick forearm each time you wanted to emphasize your words, eyes wide and determined for them to sink in. He didn’t mind the touch at all, but it started encroaching into dangerous territory when he began focusing on your mouth a little too hard.

He wasn’t sure if it was the shape of your lips or how the thick gloss sat on them, but looking at them reminded him of cherries. Trying to ensure he responded to your words was becoming difficult by the minute, fighting the urge to lean down and sink his teeth in. It didn’t help whenever the lusciousness parted and showed off pearly whites and hints of tongue.

“Seungcheol.”

Out of nowhere, you called his name, making him jump as he tried to act like he wasn’t hardcore staring at your lips.

“Yes?”

The cherries tilted upwards as a hand came up and gently tapped a knuckle against his exposed forehead.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your compliment and touch only made his cheeks flare, mouth parting as he prepared to express himself in a way that wasn’t corny or desperate.

“Your lips are gorgeous.”

So much for that.

But you seemed to be pleasantly surprised at his admission, grinning wider as you tucked a hair behind your ear.

“Yeah? Thank you, but I can’t help but feel like that’s not all…”

Seungcheol swallowed hard as you challenged him, wanting to know precisely what he had running through his mind.

“I want to kiss you right now.”

Confidence was more present this time, watching your head tilted in thinly veiled curiosity.

“Oh?” A foot came up and caressed his ankle as you continued, “What’s stopping you?”

Well, he wasn’t the type to just go in for something like that without asking first, so—

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

You looked out into the backyard, humming as you pretended to be thinking deeply about your answer, even though the rubbing sensation on his leg hinted at it.

“Mm…yeah, I do—” Finally, your eyes landed on his again, a sparkle in them that wasn’t there before. “maybe I want more than that.”

Seungcheol felt a heat building inside that had been dormant for too long. This interaction was going in a completely unplanned direction, but surprisingly, he didn’t find himself against it.

“Do…do you?”

The nod you gave had zero shame and hesitation behind it.

Ah. Well. There wasn’t any room for confusion, but he had to get this out.

“I’m not looking for anything serious, I—“

But you halted him by putting your finger on his lips.

“I know. Neither am I. We’re just distracting each other—“ A simple smile. “—right?”

Thank goodness you were on the same page.

“Right.”

Pleased with that, you removed your finger before standing up, setting your empty bottle on the nearby table. You then held your hand out, waiting until Seungcheol took it and stood up, following close as you led him back inside the house. The two of you had to zigzag through the crowd, narrowly avoiding dancing bodies. Finally, the stairs were within reach, increasing his heart as you guided him. He looked back into the crowd, barely catching a glimpse of his friends before you continued to pull him out of sight.

When they realized he disappeared, there was definitely going to be some severe questioning later on.

You led him into one of the bedrooms, making sure there were no unwelcome occupants first. When Seungcheol pulled the door in behind him, you quickly spun around, directing the coyest of looks up.

“You might want to lock it; I’d hate for us to get interrupted.”

Realizing that you had a point, he swiftly turned the lock sideways, finding the act and noise a little more comforting. Being walked in on was never fun, especially when you were fooling around in a stranger’s bed.

As soon as he finished, you reached for his hands before stepping back to stand in front of the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“Last chance to back out.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help but knit his brows a bit as he pondered. Was he really about to fool around with a complete stranger?

This was out of character for him. Even when he was single, getting in bed with someone he had only known for a couple of hours was a thought he never entertained. But this was now and he was, to put it lightly, yearning for some physical contact that would keep him distracted for the night.

And quite frankly, he didn’t want to say no to you.

“Seungcheol?”

The light call of his name brought him out of his thoughts, looking down to see you gazing up with mild concern.

“You alright?”

He was quick to nod and smile reassuringly, replying, “Yes. Sorry, just…got in my head for a bit.”

Your expression eased up, tongue clicking as you squeezed his hands.

“Well, we can’t have any more of that. C’mon.”

You maneuvered Seungcheol around so his back was facing the bed now.

“Quit thinking about your ex and focus.”

“Believe me, I’m trying. I might need a little more help on your end.”

His voice hints at encouragement, shifting you into a more domineering mood. Your cherry lips twist into an undaunted grin as you let go of his hands.

“Of course. Even if it’s for a moment—“ All of a sudden, he felt a push to his chest and found himself falling to the bed before looking up at your salacious smile. “—I’ll make you forget all about her.”

You crawled up and on to straddle his lap, making his breath hitch at the intimate contact. With your palms planted next to his head, you shot him a wicked ruby smile before leaning down to place your lips on his own. The kiss is quick to build back up whatever arousal he had lost on the way here, helped by the way your hips started ever so slowly to grind down. You’re in a perfect position to have your clothed center on top of his concealed cock, each ounce of friction awakening it.

Moans started to fill the dim room with each second that passed. Seungcheol found himself hesitating to lay his hands on you, too used to having them on another body instead. But then his brain was quick to remind him that there was no need to hold back.

And so he rested his palms on your waist, playing it safe for now.

But you didn’t let him remain stationary for long, breaking the kiss to place your hands on top of his and whisper, “Don’t be shy.”

The encouragement was a helpful trigger, fingers roaming your body as soon as you let go. He carefully ran them up and down the curves of your waist before taking a chance and moving them to the front and upwards. A quick glance was given to your face as he went and cupped your covered breasts, biting his lip at the soft sound you made. Giving a light squeeze earned him a louder noise and a roll of your hips.

“Knew your hands would feel nice…”

Your husky whisper only spurred him on, sliding one of his hands back down and around to give your bottom the same attention.

“Did you?”

“Mhm—” A firmer grope interrupted your sentence. “—kept staring while you were holding your beer.”

Seungcheol chuckled lightly at your admission, glad he wasn’t the only one fixating on mundane body parts. You allowed him to continue feeling your body, dipping down for an occasional kiss, only to halt him eventually. When his brows furrowed in confusion, your red lips curled as you moved down to sit on his thighs.

“I have to get my hands on you ASAP.”

There was no objection on his end as he removed his hands, letting them rest to the side as you got a feel of him. The heat of your skin penetrating his shirt brought a welcome warmth to his veins. He almost forgot what it felt like to be touched by another, feeling like it had been way too long. Before the relationship ended, he had gone a few weeks without being intimate. Only now was he realizing how badly he needed this.

You ventured downwards, nudging the hem of his tee up until a sliver of stomach and his belt buckle showed. A tap above his waistband brought his eyes to yours.

“You still sure about this?”

Seungcheol blinked at you checking in, not expecting it. But it was much appreciated, even though his answer was still—

“Yeah.”

That was all you needed to continue, smirking as you started to work on loosening the belt. It didn’t take long for you to get through to undo his fly, making his heart pound hard enough to rupture his eardrums nearly. It takes a good amount of self-control for Seungcheol not to jump when your hand slips into his underwear. And it takes even more for him to stay steady when fingers wrap around his cock.

“Can barely wrap my hand around you.”

Your hushed observation made him twitch in your grasp, pulling in his lower lip when you slipped his length out. You released him to spit into your palm, replacing your hold before beginning to stroke slowly. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until it came out. Soon enough, soft grunts left his mouth.

“Are you distracted now?”

Seungcheol licked his lips and hummed, “Yes, very distracted.”

The giggle you gave preceded your mouth, leaning up to start giving him kisses again, multitasking efficiently. When you seemed to get your fill of his tongue, you parted and crawled down his body until you were face to face with his fully stiff dick. It couldn’t help but give a jerk at the devious smirk you shot him.

“May I?”

Fuck if he would say no.

“Go ahead.”

His backing spurred you into action, giving his cock a kiss at the base before using your tongue to run alongside every inch. The sigh that left Seungcheol carried so much behind it. The weight from the last few weeks and tonight escaped as you lap him up with attention that he didn’t realize he was missing until now. There was never a dull moment with your mouth, making his hips buck occasionally and quiet groans fill the room.

He managed to keep most of himself under control until you took him past your lips, forcing his fingers to dig into whoever’s comforter was underneath. The tight heat and wetness around his dick eventually made his digits come up to weave into your hair, giving you a bit of guidance. You didn’t seem to mind as a moan vibrated, sending a shiver down his spine.

Seungcheol forgot about whatever was happening outside of this bedroom for a while. He couldn't care less that there was a party going on downstairs and at least one of his friends might be looking for him. They dragged him here; the least they could do was let him have some fun of his own.

But the best part was that his ex-girlfriend didn’t pass through his mind once.

A sharp and familiar pang soon came in his groin, forcing him to choke out, “Y/N, Y/N, I’m so close—”

You looked up at his warning before pulling off with a popping sound to ask, “You wanna come in my mouth?”

The offer made his jaw drop and his cock twitch hard, swallowing down his shock in order to answer you.

“I— Up to you.”

A knowing expression washed over your face, smeared cherry lips quirking.

“Judging by your reaction, I’ll take it as a yes. Don’t worry, I don’t mind.”

You swiftly returned to your previous position, letting a hand join in stroking what was still out this time. Seungcheol didn’t even get a second to process what you said before you continued pleasuring him, jumbling his brain as he got closer and closer to the end. It didn’t take long for his entire body to tense up, swearing out loud while he spilled into your mouth. His vision was spotty as he orgasmed, only clearing up when he went limp on the bed, panting hard.

Damn.

You definitely came through on your promise of distraction.

When he was finally back on Earth, you sat up, giving him a curious look.

“Did that help?”

Seungcheol lifted his head from the bed, chuckling breathlessly at your question.

“Fuck yes.”

A giggle that contradicted what you were previously doing to him escaped, your body wiggling side to side a bit.

“Good! I hate to disappoint.”

“Believe me, you didn’t.”

Your chest puffed out in triumph, looking like you were ready to receive a gold star for your hard work. At this point, you should have split up and returned to your respective groups. But Seungcheol found his instinct to return the favor rising to the surface.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

Forcing himself to sit up and look you in your eyes, he licked his lips before asking, “Do you…need me to help you out?”

Your eyes widened at his suggestion.

“You…how?”

He’s already come this far; he might as well lay all the chips down.

“I could eat you out.”

How your hand flew up to land over your mouth had him wonder if he overstepped his boundaries. Maybe you just wanted to give him his and get out.

“I…I mean, you don’t have to. We could just end it here…”

Hearing you trail off with uncertainty only pushed Seungcheol further. The need to have his mouth on somewhere other than your lips was blazing in his veins. He just missed pleasuring another.

With his bottom lip pushed out and his dark eyes looking up in a specific way, he made a final plea for his case.

“Just…consider it part of the distraction. Please?”

Yes, Choi Seungcheol was nearly begging to eat a stranger’s pussy.

But much to his relief, the light laugh you gave lacked mocking. No longer hiding your mouth, you smiled coyly and cooed, “Well, if you’re insisting…”

Perking up at your approval, he took hold of your jaw with both hands, giving you a long peck. He could feel you giggling during it, becoming louder when he pulled off to take a firm hold of your hips. You weren’t given a second to ask where to move before he lifted and practically manhandled you onto your back. The look you directed up at him was filled with surprise and a hazy lust.

“So strong.”

Seungcheol smirked at your dreamy tone, waiting for your legs to spread before sitting between them. He wasted little time in reaching for the hem of your dress, languidly rolling it up until he got a clear view of your panties.

And the large wet spot in the middle of it.

“Shit.”

You wiggled your hips at his gruff swear, teasing, “Don’t be so surprised.”

He raised a brow at you.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not leaving you like this.”

Whatever mischief that would paint your words evaporated when you felt his knuckles run up and down your clothed center.

“A gentleman, aren’t you?”

Seungcheol grunted after seeing the spot grow larger, “Sure, let’s call it that.”

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer, he maneuvered down to rest his head between your thighs. Even though he wanted to go straight to business, you deserved a little build-up as well. So Seungcheol planted soft kisses on your inner thighs, trailing up until his nose nearly brushed against you. He sped things up only when a whine of impatience came from above.

Reaching up to hook a finger under the fabric, he pulled it to the side and let it rest as he saw your dripping folds for a moment. But then he was quick to lean in and get to work.

He started off light at first, using the tip of his tongue to see what tickled your fancy. Soft hums left your mouth as your lover for the night, exploring every inch of skin. Seungcheol remained content with the gentle sounds until the need to hear more came over, pushing him to apply a little more pressure to make you louder.

“Mnh—”

“Doing alright up there?”

You hummed pleasantly, “Just wonderful. Keep it up.”

Seungcheol chuckled at your reply, using your encouragement to fuel his actions. He got a little more creative with his mouth, especially when it came to your clit. Closing his lips around it and sucking gently brought a stronger reaction out of you this time. He could feel a hand come down onto the back of his head before fingers buried into his dark locks.

“Right there, baby—”

A short groan vibrated against you from that. He made sure not to let up on what you wanted, finding that he had to use one of his arms to hold down your twitching hips at one point. He was starting to think that you had a thing for muscular guys, judging by your earlier reaction from being flipped over and how you giggled breathlessly from his recent move.

He continued to indulge in the taste of you until he felt the lightest of tugs on his hair. Pulling off with a pop, Seungcheol raised a thick brow.

“You good?”

“Uh huh, but—“ Your tongue ran along your bottom red lip. “—you mind doing me a favor?”

His eyes squinted playfully. “As long as it doesn’t involve feet or anything extreme, no.”

A laugh sounded while you released his strands and tapped his forehead.

“Dork. I want your fingers in me. That too extreme for you?”

The pang that hit his stomach influenced him to shake his head no.

“Good.”

Now you patted him, laying back and relaxing as you waited for him to follow through on his promise. Seungcheol used his free hand to sneak under his chin and pressed the tip of his index finger between your folds. Once he found your entrance, a glance into your eyes was given, receiving a nod in return. He began sliding inside, biting his lip at how you seemed to suck him in. You were wet enough that there was little resistance, making an obscene sound that brought a tingle down his spine.

Starting to thrust moderately, your louder moans filled the dim room. Seungcheol had to apply more pressure with the arm on your hips, nearly being thrown off by a strong buck. He got distracted by watching how you reacted to the friction. But then he remembered how much you also enjoyed his mouth and bent down to get back to work.

You were gracious enough to let him get his fill of you, so he wanted to ensure you got your distraction as well.

“S-Seungcheol—”

He didn’t know how much time had passed before your strangled call of his name cut into the fog, releasing your pulsating bud from his wet lips to rasp, “What’s wrong?”

Your hand darted down to press his mouth back against it, whimpering, “Don’t stop, gonna come—”

You didn’t need to say anymore.

Seungcheol continued licking and sucking, just the way you liked, ignoring how his jaw and finger started cramping up. Thankfully, it didn’t take that long to feel you clamp down tight, crying out as your thighs trembled next to his head. He kept the same pace, waiting until you pushed at his head to prevent overstimulation. Once the trembling of your body died down, he slipped his digit out and sat up, giving your hip a careful rub. The touch brought your attention down from the ceiling to him, eyes hazy with bliss and wonder.

An expression that brought the cheekiest of grins to his face.

“How was that?”

You remained silent for a few seconds, seeming to figure your words out.

“She’s missing out.”

It took a moment for Seungcheol to process what you said, but he laughed once he did, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“She is, isn’t she?”

The two of you shared another laugh before he felt his back pocket vibrate. Blinking, he reached in and slipped out his phone, frowning at the message on the screen.

[Wonu]: where’d you go??? We’re leaving soon

“Friends looking for you?”

Seungcheol looked up, nodding.

“Yeah. Sounds like they’re about to head out.”

A sigh left your lips, sitting up to give him a cherry-colored pout.

“Darn. I was having so much fun with you.”

His ears reddened at your complaint, grinning bashfully.

“Same.”

Tapping your foot against his thigh, you hurried back to adjust your clothing, leaving him to respond to Wonwoo’s text.

[Cheol]: my bad, hanging out with someone

[Cheol]: be down in a few minutes

When he received a thumbs up, Seungcheol followed suit, standing up to tuck himself back in and smooth out any wrinkles on his shirt. He didn’t want to be super obvious when he left the bedroom. Just as he finished, he turned to find you standing and facing him, looking up with scrutinizing eyes.

“Hey…what’s up?”

“You might wanna, uh—”

You pointed to his mouth, making him look in the nearby mirror to see what was happening. His eyes widened at the red smeared over and around his swollen lips. Clicking his tongue, he grabbed a tissue, wiped it off as best as possible and turned towards you afterward.

“Better?”

A thumbs up was given. “Much. As much as I like my lipstick on you, I don’t think you want everyone to know what you’ve been up to.”

Seungcheol’s mouth popped open. You complimented yet called him out simultaneously. A woman after his heart.

But you brought him back to Earth with a pat on his shoulder, reminding him, “Come on, don’t keep your friends waiting.”

Closing his mouth, he nodded in agreement.

“Right…thank you, Y/N, for, you know, distracting me. It helped. A lot.”

While not as red as before, your lips shone with vibrancy as they curled upwards.

“Of course, you looked like you needed it. Thanks for not leaving me hanging.”

“Not a problem.”

Another vibration in his pocket urged Seungcheol to hurry downstairs before getting stranded. He leaned down to kiss your cheek and made his way to the door, unlocking and opening it. Just as he stepped over the threshold, he looked back to see you watching him with an unreadable expression.

But it vanished when you caught him staring, brows knitting as you lightheartedly shooed him away.

Whatever that was was left behind as he shut the door behind him.

Seungcheol knew with every fiber of his being that his group would be in or lounging in the car, ready to leave any second. Patience was never their strong suit.

He could already spot a casualty or two as he walked across the lawn. Chan was laid across the hood of the vehicle while Seungkwan’s mouth ran off at Wonwoo, face flushed to all hell. He seemed to approach at the right time, the latter looking relieved as he pushed himself off from leaning against the door.

“There you are! We thought you walked home or something.”

Joshua’s voice could be heard calling out from inside, “Yeah man, where have you been?”

Seungcheol shrugged, hands buried into his pockets.

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

He looked Wonwoo dead in his eyes, trying to telepathize what he had been up to.

“Stuff.”

His close friend seemed to understand after a moment, brows lifting in surprise while his mouth twisted upwards.

“Doing stuff or someone?”

But there was little chance of keeping it between them when Seungkwan obnoxiously challenged him.

“I was just hanging out with them. You told me I needed to be distracted tonight, yeah?”

Joshua was busy setting up his GPS to tune in and Chan was fighting slumber, leaving Wonwoo and Seungkwan to make noises of wonder at the reveal.

“We did. Good job, hyung.”

Seungcheol smirked at his approval, still riding the high of the encounter.

“What? Choi Seungcheol having a one-night stand?” Seungkwan stumbled forward to rest a hand on his elder’s forehead. “You feelin’ okay? Too much to drink?”

The smile dropped and formed into a scowl as he got his hand smacked away.

“Fuck off, look who’s talking. Get your drunk ass in the car.”

A petulant whine left the younger as he turned to fumble with the door. Joshua honked the horn, sticking his head out the driver’s window to yell at Chan to move and get in. It did little to faze the youngest, mumbling something akin to ‘five more minutes.’ Seungcheol and Wonwoo worked on removing him from the hood and into the backseat to lean on a singing Seungkwan. The latter climbed in next to them, leaving the oldest to get ready to slide in the passenger seat.

“Seungcheol!”

But then a voice called out before footsteps thudded in the grass behind him.

Thick brows furrowed as he turned to gape in shock as he saw you running over. You stopped directly before him, catching your breath for a moment.

“Y/N! What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t think I’d catch you. I wanted to give you something.”

Seungcheol had no clue what this something could be. He was still trying to wrap his head around running into you again. This wasn’t how one-night stands were supposed to go…right?

But when you opened a closed fist to reveal a piece of folded paper, his brain ran ahead of itself and wondered whether this was going to go the opposite direction.

Seungcheol blinked rapidly, peeking at your face to see you giving him an expectant look. He took the paper and quickly unfolded it, jaw dropping at what was scribbled down. He couldn’t help but dart back and forth between it and you, the mischievous grin letting him know that this wasn’t a joke.

“In case you need more distraction.”

With a wink, you turned around, the skirt of your dress flipping and swishing as you walked back towards the house with a sway in your hips. He continued to gawk at your retreating form, only brought out of his reverie by the whooping of his friends and Joshua’s incessant honking. Spinning around to chew out the driver for making a commotion, Seungcheol swiftly got in, buckling himself before the group hit the road.

Of course, the ride was filled with interrogation, intermingled with Seungkwan’s singing and Dino’s freestyling. But he didn’t mind, feeling a burst of confidence every time the paper scratched the palm of his hand.

Maybe coming out to this party wasn’t a terrible idea after all.

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[illyrianbitch]

What Lies Between Us

Pairing: Reader x Modern Detective! Azriel

Summary: Azriel has spent years trying to escape the ghosts of his past, retiring into a self-imposed exile despite a promising career as a talented detective. When you turn up at his door asking for help on a recent case, his world is disrupted.

Warnings: angst, outrunning memories, brief allusions to crime, details of injury, horrible yearning and longing tbh

Word Count: 3.4k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel let out a sigh as he fumbled for his keys, juggling a bag of groceries in one hand. The weight of it grew heavy, and he clenched his jaw in focus as he finally pushed his door open, blindly reaching for the lightswitch on his wall. 

A soft meow greeted him at his feet. Azriel glanced down to see Shadow, his black sleek fur gleaming under the light, weaving affectionately between his legs. Shadow's green eyes flicked up briefly before he leapt gracefully onto a bar stool and then the counter, nose twitching as he inspected the grocery bags Azriel placed down. He pulled back, seemingly unimpressed.

Azriel’s therapist was insistent that more greens would be beneficial in easing his anxiety. He said nothing about its relation to his nightmares, but Azriel didn’t have high hopes regarding whether broccoli could treat years of insomnia. Slowly, he pulled groceries from the bags, one by one. He almost snickered at the contents of his fridge— a few shelves now stocked with freshly bought produce, a carton of eggs, orange juice, butter, and a pack of beer. He shut the door. 

There were a few birthday cards on his fridge, held on by various traveling magnets he’d collected over the years. One card was from his mother, the words “sweet boy” staring back at him, written with a heavy hand and adorned with hearts she delicately drew. The others were from his friends, a stupid one from Cassian, a sweet one from Mor, even Elain had gifted him one— and an invitation to her wedding. 

He hadn’t gone. 

But you had. He knew this from the pictures Feyre had posted on Instagram.

Not that he was checking. He deleted Instagram soon after.

Azriel's gaze lingered on the cards. There was one missing, and his fingers traced the place it used to be, where he had stuck it for a week before he realized he couldn’t handle looking at it every morning as he made breakfast. That card was tucked away in his bedside drawer now. He saw it every night, instead. 

He let out a deep sigh, running his hands along his face, fingers brushing against the stubble that had begun to grow already. 

He had planned to cook a healthy meal tonight, to take his new prescription and finally attempt to get a good night's sleep. But the thought of chopping vegetables and cooking felt exhausting. He pulled out a beer.

The cap nicked his thumb as he twisted it off, but he barely registered the sensation, quickly drawing the neck of the bottle to his mouth. He greedily swallowed down the cheap contents and moved towards the living room. Shadow padded after him, tail flicking in curiosity, a step behind every move Azriel made.

His apartment was empty, save for a few decorations and his heavily decorated bookshelves. Two of the chairs in his living room were still new, and the smell of brand new leather clung to them heavily, making the entire room reek of a department store. Azriel’s apartment wasn’t a home. It was a place filled with furniture. Besides those cards on his fridge, not much hinted at any sign of a life well lived. 

Except the vinyl collection he now stood before. 

His collection was meticulously organized, spanning decades of music. Some were torn, tattered at the edges where he’d picked them up at vintage shops, others brand new from gifts he’d been given. 

Azriel selected a record. Its cover was worn and bent at the edges from drunken nights trying to carefully shove it back into its place. A classic rock album, the kind that filled the silence with powerful guitar riffs and soulful vocals— one of his favorites.He slid it from its sleeve, handling it with the care it properly deserved, and placed it on the turntable

Azriel wasn’t a flashy man, never one for fancy possessions, but this collection was his pride. The turntable itself was one of the nicest things he owned, if not the nicest. He cherished it, admired it every time he came into the living room. As the needle found its place, the familiar crackle precluded the strong, evocative notes of the electric guitar, filling the room with a warmth and soul that pulled a deep,weary sigh from his gut. 

Shadow brushed against Azriel’s legs again, and his eyes fell at the touch, gaze falling on his guitar propped against the wall.  A wave of sadness ran through him. Azriel approached it, running his fingers along its neck, along the dust that had gathered on top of it. The strings resisted against the scars on his fingertips.

He took a step back, grabbed his beer, and made his way towards the balcony. 

The rush of cold night air offered a welcoming reprieve from the stifling stillness of his apartment. The chill bit at his skin, but he didn’t mind. It reminded him that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something other than biting numbness, suffocating guilt.

The city buzzed below. Azriel was never a fan of New York. The city was loud, crowded, and full of distractions that made it hard for him to find the quiet he craved. He felt disconnected from it all, from the hums of life and sounds of cars. He’d never felt as lonely as he did recently, surrounded by hundreds of people. Taking another sip of his beer, he let the music wash over him, the rich melody pouring out into the open air. 

Azriel was only two songs in before there was a sudden knock on his door. 

He frowned and waited a minute for them to go away. Another knock followed, more insistent this time. Grumbling, he turned around and headed to the door, placing his beer on the counter.

"Damnit, Rhys,” Azriel called out, hand reaching out to pull his apartment door open, “I told you I didn't want to—" 

Azriel’s words died in his mouth as he opened the door, feeling a rush of emotions flood him all at once—relief, shock, and a hint of something else he couldn't quite name.

You were as beautiful as the last time he’d seen you, at that family dinner where he’d done his best to avoid you. Your skin was tan now, a sun-kissed glow that Azriel quickly deduced was from the recent trip you’d taken with Mor and Feyre. You’d gone to Belize, and while Feyre was gone, he and Rhysand had taken a trip upstate, stayed at a small place Rhys owned. Rhys was smart enough to not bring you up throughout the week, but Az still saw all the pictures Feyre had sent him— pictures that included you beaming at the camera, drink in hand and those pink vintage sunglasses you’d bought at a flea market three years ago.

"Y/N," he breathed out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi, Azriel,” you said, voice steady and soft, sweet like honey. It dripped down his skin and made him melt. His hand fell lax against the door handle. You gave him a small, almost unsure, smile. “I need your help.” 

Azriel’s brows furrowed, gaze scanning your features for a moment. There were dark circles under your eyes— and your eyes, your eyes themselves seemed sad. Troubled. His stomach twisted into itself. You held his gaze for a moment before you were clearing your throat, shaking your head as if breaking the connection. 

“Can I come in?”

Azriel blinked. “Of course,” he finally replied, pulling the words from deep out of his chest. He gave a smile as he stepped aside and gestured for you to come in. “Please.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was strange to be so close to you, to watch as you gingerly took off your coat and draped it over one of his barstools. Azriel’s eyes traced your form before him— the bend of your spine as you leaned over, the jewelry on your wrist, the boots that you wore.Even with your back turned to him, Azriel knew you. Something was deeply troubling you. There was an evident tension in your body, in the way your shoulders moved, in your shallow breaths. 

His gaze lingered on your waist for a moment, on the way your body curved below your hips. He shook himself out of the daze, suddenly embarrassed and shameful. 

His eyes fell to the ground, where Shadow now mewed and rubbed against your legs. You looked down at the contact, letting out a small laugh. Shadow wasted no time before jumping onto the kitchen island, nudging against your arms affectionately.

Azriel moved quickly, scooping Shadow up and setting him back on the ground. “Sorry about that,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” you replied, a soft smile still playing on your lips. It was unsure— wary, even. The realization made Azriel’s stomach sink. He looked down at where Shadow was pressed against you once more.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, a flicker of something tender passing between you as he quietly said, “He missed you.”

Your gaze softened. A silence followed. It was heavy, but no longer uncomfortable. “I did too.”

The words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a warmth that neither of you dared to acknowledge fully. Azriel pushed away the thoughts in his mind that began to wonder if your words were meant for him, if you had missed him. He cleared his throat.

“What brings you by?”

You blinked, breaking the stare you were holding. “Right,” you said. You quickly turned back to your bag, fumbling slightly as you pulled out some papers and folders, gently placing them on the counter. 

You flipped one of the folders open, saying nothing as you glanced at Azriel before casting your eyes down at the papers before you. You took a deep breath.  “I need your help with a case.”

Azriel took a step forward, eyes glossing over the papers before him. He tightened his jaw. “You’re not supposed to be showing me these.”

He could get in trouble for being exposed to such sensitive information— and you, you were risking your career being here. 

“I know,” you replied. 

Azriel leaned forward, setting into a stance next to you. He ignored the way his skin prickled at the close proximity, instead placing a finger on the papers, pulling them closer to him. He frowned, brows furrowing as he took in the details. He casted a side glance at you.

You were already looking at him, a crease between your brows as you pressed your lips into a thin line.  

“Y/n,” Azriel murmured, “I’m not sure how I can be of any use.”

“Just hear me out,” you pleaded, moving closer to tap a finger on the papers. “They’re following a pattern. I need to get ahead of it. I’m stumped and you used to be great at these cases.”

Azriel’s frown deepened. “Is it a copycat?”

You paused. Azriel missed the flicker of hesitation in your eyes before you nodded. “Yeah, a copycat.”

He let out a contemplative hum. “Who?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, taking a step back as you remained quiet. Your silence was pronounced enough for Azriel to stiffen. He turned around slowly. His eyes gave away the question that was seated on the tip of his tongue. You nodded. 

Azriel stood still, his face hardening, but there was something in his eyes that looked awfully like fear, something in his gut that felt awfully like shame— like regret. He took a deep breath.

“I can't help you.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Azriel-”

“Y/n, I can’t help you,” He repeated, the words falling from his mouth like a practiced mantra of self-denial. “Request the files you need, talk to Cassian. He knows it just as well as I do.”

Azriel curled his hands into fists. He attempted to ignore the stone that sank in his stomach at the name of his friend, of his brother. Cassian. As if sensing his distress, Shadow mewed softly, weaving between Azriel’s legs.

“That is not true and you know it,” you retorted. There was a heavy sense of frustration that seeped into your voice, one that dripped from every word you said. You could feel the tension thickening the air, suffocating the space between you and Azriel. 

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. The stubborn set of his jaw made you falter further. You took a deep breath, lowering your voice to one much softer, much smoother. Azriel nearly melted at it, nearly found himself apologizing for everything he had done.

“I’ve requested access, I can talk to Cassian. But we both know you know things even I don’t. You kept meticulous records.”

“I-”

"Please," you interrupted, your voice pleading. "Az.”

Azriel’s expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. He let out a small sigh and then he offered you a nod. His steps were measured, deliberate, as he turned and made his way down the small hallway, the echoes of his footfalls filling the quiet space. 

His bedroom was just as empty as the rest of the apartment, and his gaze flickered to the bedside table as he passed. He stilled for a moment, feeling another heavy wave of sadness wash through him. Another second passed before he pulled his mind away, forcing himself to walk into his closet. 

It took a few moments of pushing aside boxes and clothing before he found it, running his hands along the small safe tucked away in the back wall. With a practiced hand, he dialed the combination, the soft click of the lock releasing echoing in the room. The door opened gently, revealing its contents—a sleek handgun nestled among a jumble of items, including a worn leather journal and a stack of notes. Brushing his hand over the cold metal of the gun, Azriel reached for the journal, its worn cover familiar beneath his touch. Tucking it under his arm, he closed the safe with a sense of finality.

Returning to where you stood, Azriel found it difficult to meet your gaze again, opting to keep his eyes trained on the journal in his hand and Shadow at his feet. He wasn’t sure if it was just him that suddenly felt so smothering, or if there was something in the air that made it hard for him to breathe. 

He offered you the journal with an extended hand. For a brief moment, your fingers brushed against each other. A familiar warmth ran through Azriel’s body and he resisted the urge to recoil from the intensity of it alone. 

His hand stayed in the air for a moment, suspended in the moment of your touch. You glanced down at his palm, eyes drifting to his bare ring finger. Your eyes softened and Azriel followed your gaze, immediately pulling his hand back and shoving it into his pocket.

“Thanks,” you murmured, turning around to place it on top of your bag. You kept your back to him for a moment, and Azriel traced the curve of your spine with his eyes, watched how you placed two hands to brace yourself on the counter as you sighed. You slowly turned around.

“Azriel-”

The glint in your eyes told him where the conversation was bound to lead. He cut you off as fast as he noticed. “I can’t.”

You deflated, shoulders falling slightly as your gaze danced across his face. “You didn’t even let me speak.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said softly. He shifted on his heels, shoving his hands further into his pockets. “I can’t get involved. This is all I can do.”

“Alright,” you finally replied, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you absentmindedly nodded your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” He took an instant step forward, hand naturally flying out to touch your arm. He realized his movement before he made contact, letting his hand fall awkwardly at his side. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I better get going.”

Please don’t.

“Yeah.”

Please stay. 

As you started to gather your belongings, slipping the journal into your bag and pulling your jacket on, Azriel's gaze remained fixed on you. His heart lurched painfully in his chest as you reached for your jacket and pulled it on, your shirt hiking up to reveal the beginning of a jagged scar along your abdomen. He deflated, casting his eyes to the ground. A wave of self-loathing washed over him and he clenched his hands at his sides, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.

It wasn’t until you were opening his front door that Azriel found the courage to look up, mustered the strength to meet your eyes.

“Y/n-” Azriel paused. His heart thudded loudly in his eardrums. He felt a faint tugging sensation in his chest, as if his body itself was screaming at him to get closer to you, to not let you leave. He swallowed down the selfish words he wanted to say, and instead offered you a wary, but warm, smile. “Be careful. This might just be a copycat, but they’re still as dangerous. I want you to be safe.”

“I know.” Something in your face softened, and you offered him a half smile. His eyes darted to the small dimple on your cheek. “I will be.”

You turned to leave, but no movement followed. Instead, you stilled, hand tapping on the handle before you turned around again. “It was nice to see you, Az.” 

He gave you a small, curt nod. His chest tightened. “You too, Y/n.”

“Take care of yourself.”

And then you were gone. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel sat on the couch, the soft hum of his chosen record filling the otherwise quiet apartment. His hand absentmindedly rubbed Shadow's head as he closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift.

Weeks had passed since he last saw you, but you were never far from his mind. He had toyed with the idea of reaching out to you, of asking how things were going, but the thought was quickly dismissed. It was inappropriate on multiple levels. You weren't in each other's lives anymore, and he shouldn't have known about the case in the first place. So he resigned himself to living in his mind, replaying that night over and over, wondering if he should have asked you to stay, if he should have offered more help.

There was a knock at the door. 

Azriel jumped at it, head twisting over his couch to look at his entrance. He pushed himself up, lifting Shadow from his lap as he made his way to the door. The cat emitted a discontented sound as he settled back into a lying position.

His heart fluttered with anticipation as he made his way to the door, a small glimmer of hope now flickering in his chest. Could it be that his prayers had been answered? That you were here again, unable to stop thinking about him just like he couldn't stop thinking about you?

Azriel took a deep breath as he reached for the doorknob.

He prepared to muster up a smile, running greetings through his mind, knowing himself well enough that he’d stumble at seeing your face once more. But as he swung the door open, his face fell flat.

"Rhys.”

Rhysand offered him a smile, but it lacked its usual warmth, troubled lines etched into his features. His posture was tense, his shoulders squared. There was a stiffness to his stance, a subtle rigidity that made Azriel’s stomach drop. 

"What is it?" Azriel asked.

Rhys met his gaze, eyes filled with a darkened sense of worry. There was a glint of apprehension in his eyes, as if he were hesitant to speak. He swallowed.

"It's Y/n," Rhys finally said, "She's missing."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

this idea appeared to me in a dream and i had to write it... will it ever come to fruition? who knows??? but i do love a good haunting of the narrative.... az finding us....az being thrown back into a world he thought he left behind...... lord its such yummy angst

so lmk if you’re interested in being tagged in a part 2 :)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[aceecee]

Insatiable - Extra #7

The things you either do together/endure or for them: 

Annoying touches:

It’s not really annoying per say but touching you is her greatest desire. Like in Caleb's bond ‘Rain’s Embrace’ where she grabs his face or Sylus’s recent birthday card where she pats him on the stomach, that’s what I mean. You’ll just be cuddling in bed together and all of a sudden, she’s biting your cheek! Randomly poking you in the same place over and over again. Jumping at you etc.

It’s not her fault, she’s desperate for your attention!

Squashing his insecurities:

There’s something about Caleb that has me wanting to just hug him. I relate so much to his desperation for love. He’s willing to be anything for MC, locking himself away, taking care of her, so much of his life is dedicated to her.

But with you, the script has flipped. Instead now it’s you taking care of him. Not even that, the two of you have been through similar shit. That gives the both of you a comfort no one else can. But those insecurities still rear their ugly head, especially the guilt he feels about the way he used to treat you. He’ll find himself believing how you deserve better than him, someone who isn’t so broken. You’ve made it your 24/7 job to squash these stupid thoughts of his.

Laughing at his jokes:

He’s seen by everyone around him as this stoic and cold person who probably doesn’t joke. We all know better though, his dry humour is hilarious but oftentimes it never gets him the reaction he’s looking for. The first time you laughed at his joke, he puffed up in pride and looked so happy. You never tell him this though, afraid it’ll be one of those things where he’ll stop doing it now that he’s aware.

It goes further than that, it shows how deep you understand him to notice when he’s serious and when he isn’t. 

Biting:

I know what you’re thinking. 

Oh, he’s a dragon of course he enjoys biting us!

No, he enjoys it when you bite him. He lost it the first time you bit him while kissing him. You’d done so since you were mad at him. Since then he keeps purposely riling you up in hopes you’ll do it again. You realised it pretty quick so now you just bite him whenever. You won’t deny that you like marking what’s yours. But it’s evolved to something more casual too, biting onto his arm has become a sort of clutch for you.

Keep him company:

I know many believe him to be boring, they label him as not that exciting as the others. But Xavier’s the only one who’s genuinely lived a long life. Sure, Sylus and Rafayel are centuries old but at least they’ve lived countless lives, all different. Xavier has only had the one. He’s experienced so many things that all he wants is to live simply, it’s why he lives in a simple apartment building when he could live in a mansion. Why he wears hoodies and jumpers is because he’s spent so long wearing princely attire, stuck to his role.

It’s why he likes to just spend time with you. Whether it’s cuddling together while you both sleep, or him watching as you cook. No matter what it is you do, just do it with him around.

Nude modelling:

Sure it might sound sensual but it’s not. The first time you agreed to do it, he spent an entire day just studying your body before he painted a thing. It was a different type of intimacy to you, it’s why you never say no whenever he asks. There’s a hint of anger in him when he sees the various scars on your body and it bleeds into his works of you. The paintings come out with so much passion that everyone of your interests has had at least one commissioned. Of course Rafayel made sure to have your consent before he agreed. 

Tag List: @serenity-loves-red @crimsonmarabou @reni502 @r0ckb1n @queenkymmie @plzdonutpercieveme @perqbeth @mephisto-with-a-knife @tumblingdevils @angelwhizpers

[boltwrites]

I haven’t recently thought about Hugh Jackman but this Movie has recently given me hunger™️

Reader/Logan fic hurt/comfort where Logan knew reader in his world (but reader never met Logan in their world) and tries to ignore them out of guilt but reader is persistently trying to be friends w him. Eventually Logan opens up about what happened in his world with reader…

A/N: so uh. i originally wrote this as headcanons in bullet point format but tumblr didn't like it so i had to redo some shit and uh. anyway. it's not my normal fic quality so i'm sorry for that.

in other author's note news - lmk if you want the recipe.

You smiled at Logan across the table as Wade rambled on about something or other. You didn't know him - well, other than what Wade had spouted off about him before inviting you to this make-birthday party after the first one went to shit - but you wanted to.

You didn't exactly know why you wanted that. Maybe just curiosity? Wade did say he'd be living with him for the foreseeable future, and as his neighbor, you should introduce yourself and be friendly, right?

But it was kind of more than that. He was hot. definitely, very hot. Maybe not your usual type - you weren't typically into older men. But there was just something about him. Something magnetic.

Either way, he'd definitely avoided you at that party. spent most of his time sulking in the corner, talking to Al or sometimes Colossus.

You'd walked up to him, smile on your face, and introduced yourself. He'd barely looked at you.

"Nice to meet you," he'd replied, his tone gruff and dismissive. By the way he spoke it sounded less like it was nice to meet you and more like you were inconveniencing him with your mere existence. Like he'd been dreading the idea of you coming over and introducing yourself.

"Wade says you helped stop the time ripper," you tried, willing yourself to ignore how shitty he was treating you. Wade had mentioned that this man - Logan - was a little rough around the edges. rude. A drunk, even. Maybe he just wasn't good with people in general.

"Yep," he replied, shooting you a glare over the glass of - was that pure fucking bourbon? - he was sipping out of. You tried your best not to let it get to you - but you also knew how to take a hint. He wasn't interested in talking. That shot straight to your stomach like a bullet made of embarrassment and guilt, but whatever.

It's fine. you were younger than him by a decent margin. He could probably tell just by the look in your eyes that you were interested in him as more than just a friend. He probably just wanted to shut that shit down as quickly and efficiently as possible. You weren't gonna blame him for that. You've done the same for several weird men in the past - including Wade, before he got the hint and the two of you became fast friends. You weren't necessarily interested in being his post-Vanessa rebound, and he respected that.

So, that's fine, you'd just be nice to Logan. He could be your friend, too. He was rooming with Wade and Al, after all. It would be good to make friends with him.

"Hey!" You smiled when he opened the door a few days after the party. You stood there, hands currently occupied by a tin foil-wrapped package.

"What do you want?" Logan asked, looking you up and down with more paranoia than you'd expected. You thought that maybe he was just uncomfortable with your advances, but this time, it was like he was searching for something. What, you didn't know.

"I just wanted to give you this," you replied, thrusting your gift into his hands - the smooth glass of the pie mold contrasting with the brief brush of his calloused hands. You tried not to shiver.

"It's a pie," you continued on, even as Logan stared off into the distance, at something you couldn't see. "When I saw what you were drinking at the party, I thought you might like it. It's a family recipe. Pumpkin pie with a shitload of bourbon. As a welcome to the neighborhood kind of thing."

You offered him an awkward sort of smile, a little shrug. He blinked, snapping himself out of his thousand yard stare only to glare at you like you'd just offered him a dead animal instead of a home-baked pie. Your blood briefly turned to ice as you wondered if maybe this man was actually sober and you'd mistake the iced tea in his glass as pure liquor. As if Wade ever had that sort of shit in his apartment.

"I-" he looked down at the pie, then up at you, taking a breath as if he wanted to say more, but instead shaking his head, like he was knocking some bit of cobwebs or old dust loose. "Thanks."

He nodded at you in acknowledgement, then slammed the door in your face. Great.

Wade wasn't much help either. He'd returned the pie dish and you'd wrung your hands and asked him if you'd done something that made Logan hate you. The dish was empty, but your stomach churned at the thought of the man just taking a knife and scraping the whole thing into the trash. You'd even made the crust by hand, too.

"Oh, fuck no!" Wade scoffed, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me? Listen, if there's anything I know about our not-so-furry friend, it's that he can put up with a metric fuckton of asinine shit. I mean - he's living with me! Do you know how many times he's used his little clawsies to hole-punch my organs? Like - so many!" Wade waved his arms for emphasis. "If he really hated you, he wouldn't just sulk around about it like a teenager - no! He'd hurt you! Like the kind of teenager that would shoot up their local high school!"

You rolled your eyes at Wade, but you knew that's just how he was. No filter, all idiocy. "Did he - did he at least try the pie," you asked, voice a little more hopeful than you'd meant for it to sound.

"Try it - fuck! That man has full-tilt sprinted at me on all fours and I've never seen him so animalistic. He was eating that pie like it would crawl inside his dick itself and pull out an orgasm. I swear - and may Thor strike me dead and then mourn my fried corpse - that he actually growled when I asked for a slice."

You didn't believe Wade for a second, but fuck. at least that made you feel better. You offered him your thanks and a sweet smile as you received your dish and promised to make him something "Wolvie" wouldn't hoard when you brought something over next. You promised to try your best.

Really, what you'd try your best at was winning this shy Wolverine over to your good side. You didn't want to force him to be your friend, obviously - but if you had made a bad impression, even if that impression was solely based on the fact that you were also friends with Wade - you wanted to make it right.

So you did everything you could. Baked and cooked and offered the results up whenever you could afford the extra ingredients. Made sure to snatch up any packages bound for Wade's apartment so your notorious Amazon thief didn't have the chance to. You even dog-sat that nasty looking creature Wade had adopted - she was very sweet, but you had nightmares about that tongue.

It all came to a head, one day. One day when you almost brained yourself walking up the stairs.

You'd been holding grocery bags - supplies to make your perfected mac and cheese recipe - head down as you ascended the steps. That was, until you ran into what felt like a brick wall. Or, an iron one. Your shoulder smacked whatever it was and you jolted backwards, gasping as you dropped the bag you were holding to cling to the railing-

Only to catch and grip tight at thin fabric as a firm, steel-strong arm wrapped around your waist. You finally caught your breath, lungs filling and then immediately vacating as you locked eyes with none other than Logan.

"Fuck."

Both of you said it. But you gasped, it, breathless and dreamy. Meanwhile he spat it, like he knew something like this would happen, and he'd been planning his whole day to avoid it.

As soon as you found your footing again, he threw his arm away from you like you'd burned him. Like your very existence was offensive to him, somehow. He manages to spin you around as he let go of your waist, disorient you as you sputtered, glancing after him.

The stairs were littered with groceries - blocks of cream cheese, butter, cookies for the crust - fresh fruit for the filling. A bag of sugar had exploded, its contents dusting the next landing like snow. All of this - ingredients you'd bought, with money you'd worked your ass off to afford - and the man you'd been trying to impress stepped in that puddle of sugar, granules crackling under his boot.

You damn near saw red.

"Logan!" you snapped, your voice harsh, crisp as it echoed through the stairwell. Fuck. You hated using that voice - but it made him freeze on the spot.

He turned to look at you - eyes wide, as if he was some child who'd been caught in a lie. But also - that gaze was knowing, somehow. Like he knew what you used that voice for. What it meant for him.

You sighed, tried to regain your composure. It was fine. You were fine. When you opened your eyes, you addressed him with even, annunciated words:

"Why do you hate me?"

Even as you tried your best to dull your voice of emotion, it slipped through. A waved of your throat, the hint of water in your eyes. You hated it - this man didn't hold that power over you. You just - you were used to being liked. That's all.

Logan looked at you like you'd shot him.

"What?" he asked, just as breathless as you felt. You thought you detected just a hint of hurt in that syllable.

"It-it's just-" you tried not to let yourself waver, but you stuttered as you spoke. "I've been trying to just - to be your friend, to be a good neighbor. Like I am to Wade, like we - we hang out, sometimes. But you- you're just - I feel like you've been kind of rude to me."

You sounded like a child.

Logan took a breath. A deep one, as if this were a confrontation that had been a long time coming (which it was) and that he was prepared to have a conversation he'd dreaded (which was really what got you - if he really just disliked you, why would he care enough to prepare something? What was going on?)

He turned around - gathered up all your dropped groceries - and started walking up the stairs, passing you and continuing his way to your shared floor. He'd previously been on his way out, so you didn't do much except stare at him until he was nearly half a flight ahead of you and your brain finally switched on again.

He led you to the apartment he shared with Wade, nodded as he held the door open for you. It felt strange - you hadn't been inside the apartment since the party. You'd always felt too nervous to ask Wade if he wanted to continue your usual game nights. Too intimidated by Logan.

He set the groceries on the counter, and practically sank into the couch. You perched on the chair opposite it, still not quite believing that he had let you in. That you were going to talk. He breathed in deeply, steadying himself before he spoke, eyes still glued to the floor.

"I'm not from here. 'M sure Wade told you that much," he glanced up, only to nod in your direction. You nodded back.

"My world - timeline, whatever the fuck - I killed it. Everyone I loved, everyone I cared about - they all died. Because of me."

You sat in rapt attention as his shoulders tensed, his jaw flexed. This was a lot, for him. You didn't really understand why he was telling you about it, but it was important to him. So you listened.

"Every timeline is different. At least, that's what the science says. Ones that are closer together - might have the same people show up at around the same time. Might be - people I knew. People I - cared about."

Logan glanced up, again. Caught your eyes with his and swallowed harshly.

"You're - one of them. One of the people I lost."

"Oh," you breathed, because now it all made sense. The strange looks, the curt conversations - even the thousand yard stare. You were triggering his memories of a horrible time of his life with every step you took in his direction. And you didn't even know it.

"I'm so sorry," You whispered, trying your best to quell any tears that might form sympathetically. No wonder he kept pushing you away. You were a walking PTSD trigger.

"No-" he gasped, shaking his head as he stood up, like he'd been shocked upright. "No, it's not -"

He cleared his throat, shook his head like he was trying to find the right words.

"I know I was pushing you away. And it is - hard, to see you again. But - I want to see you. I want to get to know you, again," if you didn't know any better, you'd think that there were tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

"You made the pie, you know. The pumpkin pie. I was only there for the one Thanksgiving, but I remember it. You swore you'd cooked off all the liquor, but Xavier made you promise only the adults would get a slice."

He grinned at you, then - wide, real. It was pretty, that smile. You could imagine recognizing it, in another life.

"None of the kids got any. Too good for them, anyway," he took a step towards you, and you rose from your seat, legs only a little wobbly.

"That's good," you breathed, voice as shaky as your knees. "I use vodka in the crust, too."

"I know," Logan grinned, a hand grasping yours, his smile somehow wider than before.

You wondered, as you strode forward into a crushing hug against his chest, if it felt so right in every universe.

[oonajaeadira]

Patricio Keeps a Journal, Pt. 1: Winter

Good. Things. Take. Time. is a series that grew out of prompts–the whisper of a character, the asks of readers. And now, to get myself back into PATS’s head, the prompts are coming from @fanfticionoverload’s Seasons of Life challenge.

What you’re about to read are some excerpts from Patricio’s journal. Heads up they probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the ongoing series.

Each excerpt is just that–snippets that pertain to the story, taken from his presumed wider journal, each notated where it lands in the series and follows the chronology of the series.

The rules of the challenge ask for 250 words per prompt. I thought it would be a little less forced if I didn’t worry so much about that, so some may fall short of that number. And I’ll say that these aren’t heavily edited nor are they anything other than basic reactions, precisely because I wanted them to feel like the unfiltered thoughts one writes in a journal.

Let’s say that it was Shell’s orders for him to keep a journal in the first place. If his practice is his way of dealing with his demons, if he’s not going to go to traditional therapy, then “the least you can do is just offload before bed, and not the kind of offloading you do with your dick. I’m not gonna read it, but I’ll want to see words on those pages. Write a fucking play for all I care, write a manifesto about your love of pasta, I don’t give a shit what. Just write.”

I don’t have anything to write. I’m not a fucking poet. Shell says use the pen, get the words out of your head, just write anything. Anything. Anything. Tables have turned. Now I’m the one practicing letting it all out. Trying not to think too hard.  Anything.

EXCERPT 1: SNOW

TIMELINE: a few days before Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

#39 gifted me four tickets to the game at her last session. It’s Neils’ birthday. I’ll surprise him and Dan with a guy’s night out.

Got a new client coming in on Thursday. #48. I wasn’t going to approve her. Nothing in her application hints at any lingering trauma that she can’t just get treated at a legit clinic. But Shell was pushy about this one. She's got a knack for these things and hasn’t been wrong yet. Official referral diagnosis: pain is psychological tension from a recent(?) divorce. I guess it’s worth a shot. If nothing else, divorcees are usually just in need of a good fuck so it’s an easy fix. Good photo. I like her style. She’s going to make pretty faces.

Thinking about taking some time off after that. Rare confluence of three clients ending their run at the same time, it’s slow season at the office and the guys can handle a week without me, I should get out of town. Someplace quiet. Or fuck, I don’t know, someplace distracting where I can get out of my head. Maybe I should book a massage. Look at me, I’m hilarious. Who massages the masseuse? I’ll have Shell find me something. Keep it interesting. Place yer bets: seedy and cheap or golden toilets and happy endings? As long as it’s somewhere warm.

Renee posted the pictures from her honeymoon. Skiing in the Alps. She always used to hate the snow. Guess people change. Change can be a good thing. 

She’s better off. 

___

EXCERPT 2: SCARF

TIMELINE: The night of Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

Shell hit the jackpot on this one. Perfect plaything. She’s like I custom ordered a client. Recurring cluster knots all down her starboard teres major, needs a hand getting in under the port shoulder blade…can’t do it alone. Needs my hands. She needs me. Follows directions, trusts completely. Has a good imagination. That will open up more in time. I expect a challenge out of this one. Surprised the shit out of me with the beautiful thing though. Maybe shouldn’t have let her have that. Maybe shouldn’t have gone down on her. It’s fine. She’s clean. Tastes good smells good ass for days. I can get a good handful. Everywhere.

And perfect inside. Tight but not too tight, good control with the right assistance, takes direction like a dream. I’ll be able to get her to sing if she keeps listening. Mierda, her skin. My hands want to eat it. Oil it up and map it out and scarf it down. Her muscle structure is    -just-    amazing. I haven’t been this amped in months. This one hits the spot.

Giving her Thursday across the board might have come off too eager. Well, if that didn’t, offering up extra days on call probably did. Jackass.

Not gonna worry about that tonight. Bowling with the guys tomorrow night. Hope they’re ready to eat their damn balls. I’m fucking invincible.

She called me beautiful. She’s [sentence scratched out] 

Forgot to note in her file–she said she hasn’t had anyone make her come in over a year even though info says she’s only been divorced a few months. What kind of an asshole just walks away from that her? How could anyone share a bed or a house or anything with that and resist for a year? She deserves to get fucked every day. Why wouldn’t you want someone that just falls into you so willingly and fucks so pretty? Great. Now I’m angry. Not my concern. Just my gain.

___

EXCERPT 3: COZY 

TIMELINE: weekend evening, after installment #2, relieving period cramps

…

Keep thinking about Thursday. It’s not about the blood. It is and it isn’t. It’s obviously that she needed relief. It’s good to see her trusting. That can be tricky for some women. Beaten into them that they have to hide what their body does. It’s a body. It’s a unique mechanism. It has shit and blood and needs a good release now and then. Or every day for some people...another truth for some of us that the world wants hidden away.

The blood’s messy. It’s primal. It’s brutal and nobody blinks an eye if it comes from a punch to the face or a slice of the thumb. But the minute it comes from the minute it shows you what  a woman’s body is capable of… But it’s also the harshness of the color, a signal that if there’s pain then it’s real. It’s a helpful focus.

She just LETS me. There's beauty in that pliability. She trusts, she follows, she heals. The way her face just relaxes when the knots are gone. It’s almost as good as the orgasm itself. Beautiful.

Got her all warmed up in the bath, all cozy in bed. Fell asleep like a worn-out kitten and I had an urge to kiss her forehead. Poor thing just needed it today. Successful session.

___

EXCERPT 4: FIREPLACE 

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks later, evening, after installment #3, the treatment for migraine and anxiety AND includes this six sentence ficlet

…

Well shit. There’s a coincidence. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her.

Thursday came in tonight tight as a screw, migraine a good 7 or 8. I had to take it slow. Asked her to focus on some bright spots in her life, like her favorite things. I might have guessed the animals and reading, but the fanfiction was a surprise. Cute. It was best not to talk about what was causing the stress because

Her family coming to stay.

Fuck if I don’t sympathize. 

Mama got here two days ago and all she can do is complain about her hotel and American food and how everyone speaks too fast for her to keep up. It’s cold here. The hotel should have a fireplace. Why don’t you take time off Patricio? You have an extra bedroom, why can’t your mama sleep there?

I love her. But I get it. There are just some boundaries that are hard. I get you, Thursday.

Preciosa.

Fucked her five ways til Sunday. She fucked ME five ways till Sunday.. She drew blood. Didn’t even care. Mark me up, girl. Glad I could help, but damn that might have been more mutually beneficial than I’d originally planned.

___

EXCERPT 5: HOT CHOCOLATE 

TIMELINE: night of installment #4, with the undergarment ripping and the thigh-highs

…

I didn’t expect to get to play this much. I’m usually so focused on the pain and making sure the client can come in their condition that there’s not a lot of room for fun and surprises. I got to take Shell out last weekend and might have bought her too many beers and pull-tabs. It took her about three bottles to get profound. She wants to know who "therapies the therapist" and told me I should remember that it’s okay to put my own priorities first sometime. She said that people in the industry of care need to be taken care of too. She said it’s okay to have a client that gives as good as she gets. Then she went home and threw up and texted me the next day that she’s drinking nothing but hot chocolate from now on. Haha

Shit. Thursday feels good when she walks out of here. She looks like a million bucks. I did that. I DO that. THAT’s what I need. So yeah. Why shouldn’t I enjoy that? Cute tonight. She wanted me to rip her panties. All she had to do was ask, but I think she was embarrassed to?

So the new diagnosis is lack of confidence and the treatment is for her to speak up for what she wants. We’re going to get her to a place where she can ask–or demand what she needs. We’ll work on her trusting that I’ll give her anything she wants–anything. 

She’ll be able to walk out of here and conquer the world when I’m done with her.

___

EXCERPT 6: FREEZING 

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks after the previous entry

...

[….] and Niels can go to hell though because I don’t care how low key it is or how good the whiskey is, I’m not giving up my Thursdays to fill in the hole in his poker night. His basement is freezing and I have warmer places to be.

Although speaking of, Thursday canceled again. It’s been a couple of weeks. Crunch time at work for her I guess. Her portal messages seem pretty stressed. She’s apologetic about missing sessions. I can tell her she doesn’t need to apologize, I’m getting paid whether she shows or not. And honestly, it just means we’re going to have to work that much harder to get her malleable again and I can hardly complain about that. A build up’s a hell of a thing. As long as she doesn’t mess up her rhombs again. We were just making headway on that. I should ask her about her desk chair.

But I’d be lying if I said that I gave a shit about the pay. I’m allowed to enjoy my clients and be disappointed when I don’t get to see them.

At least Jean’s back on Friday. It will be nice to see her again. Now that her latest surgery’s all healed up, we can find her some good positions for her to take home. I know her partner’s skittish about the discovery phase. But she’s almost done and when the reconstruction’s over, he’ll thank me for it. He SHOULD thank me for it, she’s got a good laugh and good tits.

Jean’s a perfect example of learning to speak up for herself. I can do the same for Preciosa. Lucky for her she doesn’t have Jean’s level of pain to work through. But she’s gotta show. up. for. it. Come on, girl. I got you.

___

EXCERPT 7: MARSHMALLOW

TIMELINE: directly after installment #5, all pent up and feral

…

Now THAT. Was a successful fuck. We’re making headway here. Little slapping, little biting, she got a good few hair yanks in there. She’s learning that not only am I not a marshmallow…neither is she. Good girl. Pretty high praise response, but she’s also got a little fight in her. She’s a switch and doesn’t even know it. She will. 

There were some real emotions tonight, real anger, real tears. But when she let go I nearly wept myself. It was beautiful. She’s working too hard and she knows it. But she also knows I’ve got her when she does. Hopefully that will preempt some of the stress next time. Not even upset about that shoulder blade. We’ll just start from the beginning on that.

[....]

Just reminded me of Renee nagging about working too hard. I just remembered that I had a dream about her a few nights ago. Not really about her. She was in the background somewhere and not even angry that I didn’t stop to say hello. Then she picked up her purse and left. The light kind of shifted like, I don’t know. Felt like it was the last time I’d see her. Not in a bad way. 

It’s good. Like a door really closing.

Maybe I do work too hard. But I like it. It’s who I am. It’s my choice.

____

PATS in winter by @d4rm4nd4

SERIES MASTERLIST

[aixeko]

-`♡´-≐ “ IF THE WORLD WAS ENDING, I'D WANNA BE NEXT TO YOU ” ≐-`♡´-

| Starring | Soft!Arlecchino x Harbinger!Reader

| Setting | Genshin universe

| Scenario | [ SHORT FIC ] FLUFF! Soft with a hint of angst. Pronouns are not used. A bit fast paced. Not proofread. 

► RADIO CHANNEL [Author note]

× This is so mid and I refuse to reread. I’m so sorry if the quality of the fic is not up to par with the others. × Fluff is so boring I'm sorry, It's not my cup of tea.

[ Word count: 2034 ] | Art credit: Blufyrein on Twitter & Instagram

August 20 XXXX…

“The house of the hearth has been blazing with activity ever since the children heeded the upcoming anniversary of my birth. Even with my reluctance, they insisted on celebrating this occasion, one in which I won't prevent seeing the amount of effort and enthusiasm they are collectively putting into this yearly ceremony.

It has been some time now since you last celebrated with us; in fact, it was four years ago exactly on this day, August 20th. Four years in which you had left for your mission issued by the Taritasa to Natlan, and four years since we last heard of your welfare. The children, in spite of the low possibility of attendance, still persist in accounting for your awaited arrivals, and I too bide my time for the day you return home to us.

If it isn't an inconvenience for you, please do not let their hard work wither into nothingness; perhaps even a response letter would be utmost appreciated by the children.

The hearth is set ablaze, anticipating your safe homecoming; the children miss you." 

Two days have passed since Arlecchino sent her most recent letter to you, and the day of her birthday has arrived with the expected ghosting from your side. Her hands focused on providing perfection to the barbecue, moving on their own like a second conscious being, while her gaze stared blankly at the grill, her mind stuck in deep thoughts.

Arlecchino is not one to sugarcoat or disprove the factuality of a situation, but with the lack of responses, or rather no response, over the past four years, the overwhelming, woeful truth has become more prominent than ever.

Her grip on the tongs tightened; with the amount of pressure she was applying, it could bend the steel into a useless apparatus. Furrowed eyebrows follow along with a frustrated sigh and a shake of her head. No, impossible. How can a Harbinger who is soon to be awarded the ranking just below her fall victim to the accursed consequence of life, such as death? It's impossible; the odds are practically none unless you have run into trouble with the almighty archon of Natan; then that is the only possible outcome that can lead to your ultimate demise. Even the mere thought of that possibility is unbelievable; the person whom Arlecchino has married is not one known to be the hostile type despite ranking as a highly potent Harbinger. To hell and back, your personality is enough to make even the devil himself view you as a passive mortal being; you are not married to a woman such as Arlecchino herself for no good reason.

"FATHER!" A young adult male screamed out in horrorstruck desperation.

The sound of her being called awoke Arlecchino from her trance; her head snapped to the young man, whose skin, once flawless, was now bruised, with short ash-blond hair and wearing magician-like clothing that was now dirtied with his own blood. The apron wrapping around her, along with the tongs in hand, was thrown onto the ground as she rushed to her bloody child. The other children near the area hurried to their brother, their expressions sharing concern and anger at the sight.

Arlecchino catches him once his body gives up; desperate, inaudible cries escape his mouth, with the only few words being coherent: Lynette—everyone—hurts!

Those words are enough for her X-shaped eyes to light up to a color akin to flame. Arlecchino's face visibly darkened at the announcement; from its tone, the situation was a lot direr than she could have expected. She gently but hastily lowered Lyney to the ground, her voice booming with command to the children to aid him while she raced to where he had come from. The children who specialized in combat rather than the medical aspects hurtled with Arlecchino despite not being in their Fatui attire; their bodies, enraged, moved on adrenaline alone.

Another one of the children who is limping sees the reinforcements approaching and points in the direction of the ongoing battlefield onslaught. Distant screams are heard, and Arlecchino has no time to properly bring her children to safety; thus, some of the others take charge in retreating the injured to let her focus on eliminating the source of the massacre.

Once she arrives at the cluster of her heavily wounded children and spots the suspect, who's draped in a dark cloak covering their whole body, Arlecchino takes no time transforming into her stronger form.

Arlecchino's scythe bolts at the infiltrator in synchronization with her body, whose speed could be described as quick as lightning. Arlecchino is left with constricted pupils as the mysterious figure dodges the attack with absolute ease, like they have just vanished into thin air.

"It seems like the great supreme Knave has gotten weaker."

The unrecognized tone of a whisper against her ears has her swinging her scythe at a 360-degree angle; this action causes the person to leap backward with a laugh. Arlecchino stands poised, her eyes scanning the figure to make out some sort of recognizable appearance. By the sound of their voice, Arlecchino feels a sense of familiarity coursing throughout all 206 of her bones, yet she can't place her finger on why the stranger is able to invoke such a feeling.

"You made a grave mistake daring to step forth against the House of the Hearth."

One of Arlecchino's hand ignites in a surge of power, and with that, she leaves no time for a response as her scythe hurls at the figure, with a burst of multiple flaming sword-like shapes surrounding the weapon.

Arlecchino's hand snaps out, catching the leg hurtling at her head. Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and full of mockery: "Too slow."

"Not bad!" laughed the person as they disappeared once more, causing a tsk of irritation to be emitted from Arlecchino.

Arlecchino figured that enough was enough and unleashed various attacks all at once, and not a single one landed; it was like this stranger had already calculated and understood every single little detail about her fighting style. The fact that they didn't actually attack but rather used dodge gave Arlecchino a bit of insight; they were playing a game of speed while she was playing a game of strength.

The gleam in Arlecchino's eyes intensified, sparking with otherworldly vigor. Her hand rose, mirroring the spark within as she muttered, "So be it." Her voice breathed life into a realm unseen by mortal eyes, with only an unlucky few witnessing its crimson moon.

The unidentified figure struggles in their stance, proving to be immobile. Play as you like, but to challenge a Harbinger of her standing is nothing to be confident about; daring to try to manipulate the outcome to your desire against another manipulator is pathetically laughable.

Or so Arlecchino thought, because what she didn't expect was for the stranger to be able to move of their own free will, but also to strike her domain as useless and nonexistent with a familiar style.

Her eyes narrowed once back to the real world, for there had only been one person who was informed about how to elude her realm, and based on the dependence on speed rather than strength, it was already a giveaway. Moments later, her suspicion proves true, yet not as anticipated as she presumes as she sees the stranger dashing towards her—well, not a stranger but the one who swiped her caged heart away into a loving shelter, you. You sprint towards her, shedding your cloak through the stride. In a heartbeat, you jump onto her, embracing her tightly with your warmth for an unexpected reunion, but one with no complaints.

"Peruere!"

Arlecchino freezes momentarily at the sudden action, but once recognition dawns, she returns your grip with an equal amount of fierce.

"You're home."

"I'm home!" You grin and draw back to study the face you longed for and missed for the past four years.

Her eyes, no more did they fume with fury; rather, in replacement of it, there radiated a tenderness shown to a small selected lucky few. A rare softness graces her features, an expression reserved only for children and, more intensely, for you.

"Happy birthday—"

You're interrupted by a peck on the lip; honestly, if it weren't for how unexpected it is for the likes of Arlecchino, it would have completely flown past you as some sort of dust.

"I figure the odds of you arriving today would be little to none, but nonetheless, welcome back home, my dear," she paused. "Although that little stunt of yours is not one easily forgiven or overlooked."

Arlecchino glances at the gathering that has formed all around her, more specifically at the young man who is hiding behind his twin sister with a nervous smile.

"Still as stone-hard as ever, I see, but I do admit my twisted plan for a reunion could have been alternated for a sweeter one," you give her an apologetic smile. "My sincerest apologies, Peruere."

"Why didn't you respond to any of my letters?" Arlecchino asked, turning back to look at you and settling you down to your feet to your dismay.

"I did!" you perked. "It just seems like Natlan is a horrible fit for communicating with letters since, somehow, it keeps getting lost and burned to ashes in the lava."

"Your face betrays you, darling." Arlecchino's fingers danced through your hair. "Your face says it all; it's a given that you know there is no hiding anything from me. Don't lie to me; you didn't know I had sent you letters."

"Haha... Look, in my defense, my mission was a mess, and doing anything is a whole other disorder; I'm thankful that the Captain is taking over because that region is a headache to deal with."

Arlecchino places a hand on your waist, pulling you close as her lips make contact with your head. "Setting everything aside, let us use our time together again to celebrate instead of bickering."

The children cheered at the public display of affection between their parents, and the one who was "tending the wounded" was, in fact, actually bringing the barbecue from the House of the Hearth to the large field.

"The children miss you," Arlecchino whispers into your ear, her head pressed against yours.

You wanted to laugh at the children's excuse; she really had not changed much in the past four years, still playing off a cold demeanor to hide the soft shell hidden beneath it, one you had already melted through.

Your eyelids lift, catching her smile, which reveals her pearly white teeth. Your gaze softens. In reality, many things have changed since you first met her, yet she refuses to give herself credit for it. She was once only known as Arlecchino or by her Harbinger title, The Knave, but over the past years, the facade has lowered greatly to divulge the true identity of Father, The Knave, Arlecchino to just Peruere.

"I miss the children too."

For the rest of the day, that smile didn't leave; no, it was displayed for the whole world to see and ravish in. Nor did she leave your side once, insisting on even public displays of affection in spite of being surrounded by the children, and in her own words, "It's to make up for all the time that has been lost."

If only she knew that in the far future, when all of her hair turns white, with yours matching hers, she would realize it was the worst lie she had ever spoken.

If only she knew that in the future she had accidentally made an unspoken oath with herself to spend the rest of her time loving you to make up for the other half of her time that was spent hiding how much she loved you.

The smile, unbeknownst to both of you, would be a permanent fixture. It would endure through your remaining years, brightening each day until your final moments together, when life's inevitable decline finally claims you both.

Even when the world was ending, at least you both would be next to each other, dying with a smile stretching across your features.