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ollyissleepy · 3 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x uninterested!male!reader summary: After being caught red handed stealing, (name) finds himself in the Wayne Manor, surrounded by his new family. (Name)'s disinterested in bonding is met with equally not caring siblings and father. As he spends his days alone, (name) realises his new family might care much more than he originally thought the did. cw: stealing, swearing, underage smoking, mentions of gambling and death a/n: idk why but Alfred makes me think of my grandad (which is ironic since I only know him from stories told by my family and I've never even met him) anyway let me know if you're interested in the first idea regarding the scene with (name) and Alfred that I scrapped worried it would be 'too graphic' based on this idea I had

When (name) wakes up, the sun hasn't even risen. He's not sure about the exact time, as there's no clock in the room he was made to stay in, his phone still at his house, hidden away in fear of situations like this. The boy turns onto his back, his eyes wide open, not daring to fall back asleep. He tries to think of his next course of action. (Name) was hoping to run off during his trip to grab his clothes, but with the butler accompanying him, that won't be possible. And not really due to the age of the man, but simply because the boy doesn't want Alfred to get in trouble. He decides to come up with a different idea another time, hopefully with one that wouldn't get, what seems to be, the only worker in the manor.

Once (name) notices the first rays of light coming into the room, he decides it's probably time to move out of bed. Only then does he notice the grumbling of his stomach. (Name) sighs, walking into the bathroom; he'll have to look for a kitchen later.

The teenager checks the corridor twice, making sure he won't bump into someone as he's trying to find the kitchen. (Name) steps out of the room, doing his best to not make any unnecessary noises. He walks down the same set of stairs that he did the previous day, walking from one room to another until he finds the one he was looking for. Once in the kitchen, he opens the fridge, grabbing a few things that could make a decent breakfast. The boy doesn't take anything that he deems as 'too fancy' for his tastes, opting for simple vegetables and other produce. Stuff he figures nobody will really notice the absence of. The teenager is so focused on filling his stomach that he doesn't notice another person entering the room.

"Mast—, (name), if you were hungry, you could've come to find me. I would be happy to make you something." Butler speaking up causes the boy to jump up. He turns around; the food he made for himself is in his hands.

"It's alright, Alfred," (name) reassures, looking away, like a child caught doing something they shouldn't. "I don't mind making my own food."

"I know you don't, but next time, please don't be afraid to ask me. That's what I'm here for." Alfred smiles, deciding against pressing on the matter.

Alfred begins to smoothly move around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and other things he needs to cook a meal. (Name) watches the man working as he eats the food he prepared. He debated going into a dining room but decided against it, worried that since the butler starts making breakfast, the rest of the family will get down to eating there. The boy isn't interested in meeting any of them.

"I don't have any work until lunch," Alfred announces, making (name) tilt his head in confusion. "I was thinking we could grab your clothes. That way I could wash the ones you are wearing in the afternoon," he adds, pointing at the boy's outfit with a butter knife.

"Works for me, I guess." (Name) shrugs, finishing up his food. Alfred notices the boy hesitating on what to do with the dish, so he decides to speak up.

"Just leave them in the sink; I'll put them in the dishwasher later." He points toward the appliance.

(Name) carefully puts the dishes into the sink, looking back at the butler for approval. Once Alfred smiles at him, telling him he should go and get ready so they can leave after the rest of the family eats their breakfast. The teenager takes one last look at the butler before leaving the kitchen. He makes his way back, the journey much easier now that he had done that once. He finds the staircase, slowly making his way up. When (name) is almost at the top, he notices something on the wall, close to the ceiling. As he walks up higher, he recognises the object. It appeared to be a surveillance camera. (Name) doesn't stop to give it a closer look, not wanting anyone who watches through them to notice his interest in the object. The presence of the camera changes the boy's plans as he decides to spend the next few days checking where the rest of them are. He'll also need a plan on avoiding some of them to make himself harder to find.

As he enters 'his' room, the first thing (name) does is grab his hoodie. The one he hid under the pillow the previous night, just in case. As he puts it on, he realises he should clean up a bit or at least fix the bed , not wanting anyone else to touch the place he's sleeping on. The boy makes sure to make it in a different way to make it easier for him to tell if somebody was messing with it. With some more time to spare, (name) looks out the window, looking at the garden. He also looks over the fence further into the property, wondering if it has any loose spots, making his escape easier.

(Name) doesn't move from his spot next to the window when somebody knocks on his door. He tells them to come in, his eyes moving to the door. Alfred comes inside the room, noticing that the boy seemed to have made the bed. He also notices that it was made differently from how the beds are usually done in the manor, but he decides not to dwell on it too much. The butler figures that it must be the only way the teenager was taught how to fix it.

Alfred let the boy know that he's ready to leave whenever the teenager is. (Name) puts his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, nodding that he's ready. Both of them returned downstairs, this time moving opposite to where the kitchen was. To the boy's disappointment, Alfred leads him outside and not to the garage, where he could judge 'his father's' taste in cars; the boy frowns at the missed opportunity.

There's a car parked in the driveway; it looks slightly different than the one he was brought in. Alfred opened the door, his hand gesturing for the boy to get inside. (Name) sits onto the backseat of the car, the butler closing the door behind him. The boy plays with the hem of his hoodie, waiting for Alfred to walk around the car to start driving.

The car ride is mostly silent, save for (name) giving out directions to the butler. The boy enjoys the lack of words leaving Alfred's mouth, making him think that the whole journey might not be such a pain after all. (Name) lets the man know that his apartment building is on the left, ending the ride. Alfred finds a spot to park the car, hoping nobody will damage or, worse, steal it. After he makes sure the car is securely locked, he turns towards the building the boy is already at the entrance of. He tries not to show it, but the state of the building fills him with worry. Is it really where the boy was living? The paint chipping off the outside walls, exposing the brick, and the cracks surrounding the windows. The building was most definitely not up to any code and probably shouldn't even be lived in.

Even though worries of the building collapsing filled Alfred's head, he still followed the boy inside. As they were making their way up the stairs, an older woman came out of the flat on the bottom floor, probably hearing their steps.

"Ah, (name), good to finally see you. You're a few days late to rent," she informs, glancing at the boy, then looking at Alfred from head to toe, the man getting uncomfortable under her judgemental stare. "I tried knocking, hoping your mom would pay, but it seemed that nobody was home."

"Sorry, Mrs Smith. Mom is busy with work, you know how she gets," (name) explains, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I'll bring it to you in a bit," he promises with a shy smile.

The woman nods, taking another look at Alfred, before walking back inside her flat. He doesn't ask the boy about the lie he told Mrs Smith, knowing it's probably for the best that she wasn't aware that only the boy lives in the apartment. They resume their walk up the stairs until (name) stops at one of the floors, walking down the hallway. The butler watches him stop at one of the cracks in the wall and take out a key from it. The boy then stops in front of a door further down the hall, opening it with a key.

(Name) doesn't look back to see if Alfred is following behind him. He doesn't want to see the look of disgust the butler must have upon seeing the condition of the place the boy calls home. What the teenager isn't aware of is that Alfred doesn't look at it all with disgust but rather concern.

The flat is in much better shape than Alfred anticipated. It was mostly clean, other than the empty instant noodle packets and some other everyday litter. There was a blanket thrown over an old couch that looked like it had seen better days. As (name) disappears in what the butler believes to be a bedroom, Alfred is left to look around the main room of the apartment. He checks the kitchen, his worry deepening after noticing the state of it on top of the oven that looks like a fire hazard.

(Name) double-checks the stuff he throws inside the bag. He puts inside whatever he decides he might need, even if it would just be used as a fire starter. The boy doesn't own many clothes, so putting them all randomly inside the bag wasn't hard. It took him minutes to grab all of his belongings. There weren't many things that belonged to his mother that (name) kept. Most of them he was forced to sell a long time ago, so he won't go hungry or have to pay rent. A few things that the boy kept, he also stuffed inside the bag, even if that meant leaving behind a few shirts so he could close it. The boy takes an envelope from under the mattress, checking if there's enough inside to cover this month's rent.

Walking back to the main area of the flat, (name) finds Alfred staring at something. As the boy walks closer to the man, he notices that Alfred is looking at the only picture the boy has of himself and his mother. (Name) doesn't know why the butler is staring at that picture so much, but he also doesn't care, snatching the picture away from Alfred's prying eyes. The man watches the boy put the photograph into a bag, carefully arranging it in between some shirts.

"I see that you packed your bag. Do you have everything?" Alfred asks, wanting to make sure neither of them would have to come back to this place.

"Not yet." (Name) puts his bag on the couch and walks towards the opposite side of the room, crouching next to a lamp.

Alfred sees the boy take out a flip phone, which doesn't surprise him after seeing the state of the flat. He figures it's the only phone he and his mother could afford. The butler uses the fact that (name) let go of his bag to grab it for the boy.

"Oh, it's fine. I can carry it myself," (name) says, putting the phone in his pocket. He steps closer to Alfred, trying to take the bag out of the butler's hands.

"Don't worry, (name), I'll make sure nothing happens to it." Alfred reassures the teenager, keeping a firm hold on the bag. "You just focus on locking up the place properly."

Both of them walk out of the flat. Alfred watches as the boy locks it and then puts the key into his pocket. (Name) wonders if he should give the key back to Mrs Smith, knowing that even if he could, it wouldn't be safe for him to return there. He walks down the stairs with Alfred following behind, stopping at Mrs Smith's apartment to give her the envelope. The boy returns the key as well, mentioning that he and his mother were moving out. The woman didn't ask any questions, figuring it's not her business. Both of them walk out of the apartment building, and Alfred lets out a sigh of relief. He didn't show it, but staying in a building that was in such a state was filling him with anxiety. The butler walks with (name) back to the car, putting the boy's bag into the trunk.

"Alfred, do you think we could visit her grave?" (Name) asked, his eyes focused on the ground before him. "I don't know when I'll be able to visit, and I'd hate to leave without saying goodbye."

"Of course, (name)." Alfred agrees with a soft smile. "I'd be happy to take you." The man closes the trunk, moving to open one of the back doors.

"Let's walk; it's not far," (name) suggests, not seeing a point in turning on a car to drive such a short distance.

"Lead the way." Alfred closes the door, still smiling.

(Name) was right about the cemetery not being far, as the journey takes less than ten minutes. From the moment they entered the cemetery, (name) was only looking at the ground as if afraid to look at any of the graves. Alfred, on the other hand, takes a moment to read some of the names written on the graves. He's so distracted that he almost misses (name) stopping in front of one of them. Alfred stands next to the boy, whose expression he couldn't read. The man then looks at the grave, reading the words on the gravestone.

(Mother's name) (Last Name) beloved mother Born xx-xx-xxxx Died xx-xx-xxxx

"It's been…" Alfred begins to speak, but the words are caught in his throat.

"Seven years, yeah," (name) finishes, his eyes never leaving his mother's gravestone.

"You were only ten." Alfred's cracks, trying so hard not to imagine a little boy burying his mother all by himself. "How did nobody find out?"

"If you know where to go, they won't ask you questions." (Name) shrugs, finally looking up at Alfred. "Mrs Smith's late husband helped me bury her, only wanting some money so he could gamble behind his wife's back. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised he never mentioned my mother's death to her."

Neither of them moved for a while after that. Alfred is still trying to understand how this boy managed to survive on his own for so long. He pitied the boy, wishing Bruce had found out sooner about him. Maybe then, (name)'s life would be a little easier.

The drive back to the manor is quiet, with Alfred checking on the boy's wellbeing in the rearview mirror. The butler wants to say something, anything that could bring comfort to (name). No words seemed good enough; after all, what could you say to a teenager who lost his mother almost a decade ago?

Back in the manor, (name) uses the need to unpack his bag as an excuse to get away from the butler. The boy makes his way back to 'his' room, closing the door shut behind himself. He doesn't take out much from his bag, only a fresh set of clothes, some underwear and the picture of his mother. He changes into the clothes, wondering if he should throw the old ones to the humper or ask Alfred if he can wash them himself. The teenager ends up putting them in the hamper, knowing that the butler would find a reason for the boy to not wash them himself.

(Name) makes sure his bag is hidden under his bed before heading out of his room to look for more cameras. The boy roams the hallways of the manor, hoping that he looks like a clueless child exploring his new home. He tries to remember as many locations of the devices as possible. He hopes to ask Alfred for some paper and pens to write them down later, but in the meantime his memory has to be enough. (Name) turns around after hitting a dead end, deciding to look for the butler for his request, when he bumps into someone. The man had broad shoulders, partially hidden behind the grey hoodie, his hair messy, like he’d just run a hand through it — dark, tousled. Man's vibrant blue eyes, running over (name)'s younger frame.

"Hey, you're new here, right?" The man asks with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He only earns a shrug from (name), making the man let out an awkward cough. "Anyway, have you seen Tim? He's not in his room."

(Name) shakes his head, his brows furrowed slightly. The man already established that he's new here; how could he know where Tim is? The man with blue eyes leaves, understanding that he won't get the answer from the boy. The teenager finds that the more he learns about 'his' father's family, the less interested he becomes in interacting with any of them.

(Name) decides that it's enough of being outside of his room for the day, returning to the only space in the manor he feels somewhat safe in. The boy spends the next hour or so recalling the locations of the cameras he saw like a mantra.

The boy is so wrapped up in remembering the cameras that he doesn't notice the sun beginning to set on the horizon. The knock on the door made (name) jump slightly, not expecting anyone to bother him in 'his' room. He lets the person behind the door know that they're welcome to come inside. The door opens, Alfred coming inside with a smile.

"(Name), I was wondering if you'd like to join the rest of the family for dinner tonight?" Alfred asks, the smile not leaving his face. The boy is about to decline when Alfred speaks up: "It would not only mean a lot to your father to see you getting along with the rest of the kids but to me as well."

Alfred watches the boy hesitate, possibly laying out the options, before agreeing. (Name) decides that meeting the rest of the family wouldn't hurt. Knowing who to avoid could be useful for him in the long run.

"Alfred? Do you think I could get some paper and a pen?" (name) asos, following behind the butler.

"Of course," Alfred smiles, his voice soft. "I'll make sure to put a notebook and some pens in your room after dinner."

You thank the man, taking a deep breath as you enter the dining room. You take a look around the table, not failing to notice all of the seats being taken. Alfred wonders why you don't sit down, so he also checks the table, noticing as well the lack of space for the boy.

"I invited Connor over," said the one in the hoodie, barely looking up from his plate. "Figured it wouldn’t hurt."

"It’s not like he ate with us yesterday," the youngest muttered, arms crossed and tone sharp, not missing a beat.

"Still, I believe you—" the butler began to speak, hoping to resolve the issue and still have (name) join the table.

"It's alright, Alfred." The boy interrupts the man's sentence, not seeing a point in staying in the room. "I would rather eat in my room anyway," (name) assures, hoping to just leave.

The butler sighs, fixing up a plate for the boy. (Name) hangs around the man, trying to ignore the stares at everyone sitting at the table. He grabs the plate from Alfred, thanking him. He can't help but overhear a conversation that started the moment they noticed him leaving.

"He's so weird," a voice that sounded like it belonged to the youngest spoke. "His mother should've raised him better." After hearing that (name) was close to returning to the room, giving the child a piece of his mind, but another voice stopped him from doing so.

"You shouldn't say that he's still your sibling." (Name) wasn't quite sure whose voice belonged to, but he was glad somebody was telling the child off.

"You don't know shit, Conner," the youngest spoke again. (Name) suddenly wishes he took a better look at the people at the table so he could know how the boy looked.

Back in his room, (name) eats his dinner in peace, trying not to dwell on what the youngest Wayne said. Around the time the boy finishes his meal, Alfred comes around, as promised, carrying a notebook and a few pens. He puts them down on the desk with an apologetic smile. The boy uses the moment to ask the butler if he needs any help around the manor, mentioning that helping the man clean up would make it a great way to explore the place. The butler assures him that he's more than capable of taking care of the manor and that the teenager doesn't have to worry about others looking at him weirdly, most of them being used to kids roaming the place. It's almost a weekly occurrence that somebody walks the halls of the manor trying to learn its layout for the first time.

The next day (name) decides to take Alfred's words to heart and continue roaming the manor. The boy eats his breakfast in the butler's company, who still insists that he could make something for (name). The teenager moves to a different wing of the manor, hoping that, by expanding the knowledge about the layout, he could leave the place without ever being noticed.

As (name) walks deeper into the new wing of the manor, he finds himself growing anxious, the true size of the place finally hitting him like a truck. The boy feels trapped in the maze of the hallways. He doesn't pay proper attention to his surroundings anymore, no longer looking around for cameras, his mind fixated on returning to more familiar parts of the manor. (Name) rounded a corner too fast and collided straight into someone.

"Sorry," he blurted out, stumbling a step back. "I got kind of lost."

The guy he bumped into barely flinched. Tall, athletic build, warm brown skin, tight curls cropped close. Dressed casually but sharp: sneakers, dark jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt rolled at the elbows like he was always ready for something. (Name) recognises the boy from the family dinner fiasco.

"Nah, you’re good; don’t worry about it," the guy said with a relaxed grin. "You’re new here, right?"

"Oh, yeah," (name) nodded, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Wow, didn’t know Bruce adopted another one." He extended a hand. "I’m Duke. Nice to meet you."

"(Name)," the boy replied, accepting Duke's hand and shaking it.

"I could show you around if you want." Duke offers a wide smile on his face.

"I’d rather explore blind; it helps with feeling the vibes of the space." (name) shook his head. Duke laughed a little at that, and it wasn’t mocking, no, it sounded like he got it.

"Maybe I could join you?" Duke asks, eager to get to know the new addition to the family. It was his first time meeting 'new meat', after all.

"Sorry," (name) said, not unkindly, just honestly. "I’d rather do that by myself."

"That’s fine," Duke replied, a smile never leaving his face. "If you ever need company, my room’s around the corner, third door on the left. I’ll be happy to hang out with you."

And with that, the other boy is gone, leaving (name) alone with his thoughts. He's not sure what to think of the teenager that he just met.

(Name) resumes his journey, this time much less anxious as his mind focuses on playing the meeting with Duke over and over again. With him being all in his head, it was only a matter of time before (name) bumped into somebody again. Luckily for the teenager, this time it was Alfred who offered to help him find his way back to his room.

The boy spends the rest of the day cooped up in his room, only leaving for lunch that's accompanied by the butler. The rest of the time, (name) focuses on writing down the plans of the manor. He excludes the part he explored today, labelling it as being too far and too complicated to navigate for him to use it as his escape route. After dinner, which is also eaten with the butler, (name) asks Alfred if he could check out the garden.

"Of course, (name)," the butler smiles, happy that the boy decides against spending the evening in his room. "Just put on a hoodie; it's getting colder."

(Name) nods as if he wasn't already planning on grabbing one. He retreats to his room, putting on a hoodie and hiding a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his pocket. On his way out to the gardens, he doesn't meet anyone, the manor feeling colder than the outside.

The boy finds a secluded area in the back of the garden, next to an overgrown pond. He takes out a cigarette, lighting it. (Name) inhales the smoke, filling his lungs with it. His body relaxes in the places he wasn't aware he was tense in. As the teenager smokes down half of the cigarette, it's taken out of his hands.

"I don't think it's good for you, kid," a man said, voice low and rough, like gravel under boots, with just the slightest edge of concern buried beneath all that worn-out indifference.

He blinked, startled, watching as the man stepped back and crushed the cigarette under his boot without ceremony. Older—by a few years, maybe—leaning against the crooked base of a crumbling angel statue. Leather jacket, boots that had seen better fights, and eyes that looked like they didn’t sleep much unless knocked out cold. He didn’t smile. Didn’t really look at him, either. Just knew exactly what he was doing.

"Isn’t it, like, the whole point of them?" he said, irritation bleeding through.

"Don’t play smart with me," the guy shot back. "I don’t care if your mother died; you shouldn’t go around smoking. It’s bad for the image."

"You don’t look like someone who gives a fuck about the image of this family," (name) laughed, short and sharp.

"Because I don’t." A small, crooked smirk. "But I don't want to listen to everybody's whines." The guy kicked a stone into the pond.

"Who are you anyway?" The guy looked at (name) sideways, like deciding whether or not to answer.

"None of your business." And with that, the guy turns around, walking down the path to the manor, not looking back to see if (name) takes out another cigarette.

Later that night, after a shower, (name) takes out the notebook. He carefully crafts a plan, hoping to leave the manor forever by the end of the week. The boy makes sure to plan out every possible outcome in case somebody notices him as (name) leaves. The boy also plans out an idea if somebody from the family were to find him.

The next few days, (name) makes sure to act as unalarming as possible. He's hoping to not attract attention from any of the residents of Wayne Manor. The boy continued eating his meals with the butler, the man being the only person in the family he was interacting with. The nights were spent polishing up the plan.

The boy started to believe he was getting away with the plans until one of the lunches with Alfred, the one less than two days before leaving the manor. Both of them were eating their food in silence, as they usually did. The butler's brows were furrowed, him trying to think of a way to approach something that he worried might be a sensitive topic.

"(Name), I couldn't help but notice that you haven't unpacked your bag yet," the man begins, his voice calm in order not to scare the boy. "Any particular reason as to why?"

"It's just… hard." (name) only partially lies, knowing that even if he wasn't planning on escaping, he would probably be too scared to unpack. "Feels like I'm letting go of my life. Of my mother?" The butler nods, understanding where the boy is coming from.

Over the course of the next few days, (name) starts preparing to leave the manor. He collects snacks with long expiration dates in his room, forcing them between the clothes in his bag. Every night, before falling asleep, the boy goes over the plan, looking for any loopholes.

The day of the escape comes faster than the boy expected. That night, (name) stays awake until late at night; the clock struck three in the morning. He stands up from the bed he was sitting on, pulling a hoodie over his head. The teenager grabs his bag before taking another look over his room to make sure he doesn't leave anything behind. The manor is quiet, almost as if he were the only one in there.

(Name) already knows where to go; the window he picked up was found with ease, no light needed. As he reaches it, he hopes he's not wrong about the wines next to the window being strong enough to hold his weight. (Name) swings his legs over the window, taking one last look down the corridor, making sure nobody is watching. He throws the bag onto the ground before grabbing the wines. The boy places his steps carefully, slowly making his way down. Once he feels like he's low enough, he lets go of the vines, landing on the ground. From there the journey is easy, a few metres to the fence. Getting over it wasn't a problem with (name) having experience in jumping fences from his nightly stealing escapades.

The second the boy is on the other side of the fence, he starts running down the street, not looking back at the manor. He felt like a little kid, worried to spot 'his' father, or worse, Alfred, right behind him. (Name) only slows down when he reaches further into the city.

The teenager finds an abandoned building as far away from the manor as possible. In there he spends a few days, living mostly off the snacks he sneaked out and some questioning-looking water he found. He doesn't leave the building, not wanting anyone to spot him and alarm 'his' father.

Even after the snacks run out, the boy waits a whole other day before leaving the safety of the building. A bag hanging from his shoulder as he finds the right shop to 'borrow' things from. (Name) hangs around, mostly hidden in the shadows, waiting for the shop to close for the night.

With the precision of a surgeon, the boy picked the lock on the backdoor, allowing him to enter. He places some food and a few water bottles inside his bag, getting ready to leave. He stops in front of the cash register, wondering if there's any money in there. The boy decides to take his chance, forcing the register open. Luckily for him, there were a few bills that he grabbed. Maybe thanks to them, his next trip to a shop would be without breaking in. On his way out, (name) makes sure to grab a few packs of cigarettes, figuring it wouldn't hurt.

After leaving, the boy makes sure to make the lock look like it wasn't picked. He felt a little bad stealing from the owner and didn't want someone else to use the opening in the shop's security to steal even more things. (Name) lets out a sigh of relief, knowing the hardest part of the night is over and the only thing left to do is find another spot to camp in.

"Pretty sure your father wouldn't be happy about this," a low voice spoke behind (name), making him jump, scared.

The boy turned around to see who spotted him. (Name) sees a man dressed in black, a cape moving with the wind. The teenager recognises the man, knowing there's only one person in Gotham that's dressed like that. It's Batman.

"I'm pretty sure he hasn't noticed my absence." (name) feels confident, knowing the worst Batman could do is put him in timeout or something. No kill rule and all. "He'll live."

(name) is ready to leave, then the man grabs him by the collar. Batman starts dragging the boy somewhere, ignoring the yells and thrashing around them from the teenager. (Name) is so focused on trying to get the man to let go that he doesn't notice the two of them entering a building.

"Don't worry, Batman, we'll take it from here." A voice that belonged to Commissioner Gordon snapped the teenager out of the daze he was in. His head shot towards the Commissioner.

Batman lets go of the boy, who's instantly grabbed by two police officers. Same ones who brought him in all those days ago. The officers lead him towards the back of the station, putting him in the same cell he was sitting in the first time they caught him. The workers leave, grabbing the boy's bag, ignoring his protests. (Name) isn't left alone in the cell for long, Commissioner Gordon joining him soon enough.

"Don't worry; you'll get your bag back when your father comes and picks you up in the morning," the man assures, a tired look on his face.

The commissioner was hoping to never see the boy in such a space, remembering how much trouble he went through with finding the (name)'s biological father. As neither of them are in the mood to talk, Gordon doesn't stay long in the cell. He sees that the boy was away from the manor for at least a few days, judging by the dirt on the boy's clothes.

Gordon tells the boy to get some sleep, reminding him that his father will be notified in the morning about what he's done. With that, the commissioner leaves. (Name) looks around, a sense of déjà vu hitting him. It wasn't a long time since he left the cell.

(Name) lies down, wondering what he'll tell the person that would pick him up. He's not sure who he should hope for. ' His' father? Maybe it's not like he cares what the man thinks. Alfred? The boy knows that he's more likely to be picked up by the man, which scares him. (Name) isn't sure he'll be able to look into the butler's eyes after a stunt like that.

taglist: @amber-content @bellethesleepypotato @leeiasure @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter

comment to be added!

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hard-core-super-star · 13 days ago

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keep it confidential, you make me feel special [W.Maximoff + K.Bishop]

pairing: domme!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x kate bishop

summary: wanda's the infamous editor in chief of a prestigious magazine, you're her executive editor and kate's your newest, annoying, assistant. what could possibly happen when she stumbles into wanda's office at the wrong time and finds out you two are more than co-workers? nothing good.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS GO AWAY! -> established dom/sub dynamics; office sex; power play; fingering; grinding; finger sucking because my hand slipped; praise kink go brr; mommy kink go brr; slight voyeurism [kate is a bit of a perv and a peeping tom]; technically triple [legal] age gap?; someone needs to notify HR lmao; R goes from not wanting kate around to wanting to top her which is valid, i think; no threesome yet tho

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: HI! i rewatched the devil wears prada a few months ago and this random idea came to mind and i just could NOT stop myself from writing it. and trust me, i tried 😅 i have no idea if anyone will be into this AU but i wanted to explore R in a different role than usual. but because of who i am as a writer, that will come in part two which i hope will be up sometime next week. wanda x kate HAS to be the rarest rareship but oh well, my hand slipped. anyway, please let me know what you think and if you'd like to be added to the taglist. for now, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

Your steps are hurried as you make your way to Wanda's office, ignoring her assistant and her warning that the older woman is busy. You know damn well she's not busy, considering the not safe for work texts she'd just sent you.

Surprisingly, that's not what has you so hurried, though.

You push open her office door, straightening up as her gaze falls on you. "Do you need something?"

Instead of instantly replying, you shut the door behind you, making sure the windows are fully covered before standing in front of her desk. "Out of all the applicants, you chose the Bishop girl? I said I wanted an assistant, not a pet."

Even though she knows exactly what you're talking about, she still raises her eyebrow just to see you shrink into yourself. "Excuse me?"

You stand your ground as your stubbornness wins out over your fear of disappointing her. "Oh, come on, Wanda, there's no one around."

"That still doesn't mean you can forget your place," she replies, her no-nonsense tone taking a stand.

Instead of asking for forgiveness, you simply roll your eyes and cross the space between you. Wanda's hands land on your waist and she helps you up onto her desk before sliding her chair closer until she's between your spread legs.

"I'm serious, Wands," you try again. "Why her?"

"Because I said so," she responds, clearly teasing you. "And she was the best candidate."

"I seriously doubt that," you scoff. "What were her qualifications? Eating from a silver spoon all her life?"

"Behave. Why are you doubting me so much?"

Even though you're still a little annoyed, you force yourself to swallow said annoyances briefly. The last thing you need is to get into an unnecessary argument and earn yourself the silent treatment until tomorrow.

"It's not about doubting you," you reply with a sigh. "I just don't understand what your plan is."

The smirk on her face should tell you all you need to do, but you're far too distracted by her hands on your thighs to notice. "You don't need to understand, darling. You just need to trust me. I have no doubt the two of you will get along very well."

Her suggestive tone isn't lost on you, and yet you choose to ignore it. Maybe it's because of the trust you implicitly place in her or because her hands begin wandering, and she leans up to kiss you, and every thought in your head disappears.

Your argument is forgotten for the rest of the day (thanks to Wanda's skillful fingers) and you almost forget about Kate's existence.

Except, she shows up at the office, bright-eyed and smiley, two days later.

The mere sight of her makes you want to roll your eyes, but you force yourself to behave for Wanda. As much as you hated the solution, you were in dire need of an assistant and if the Bishop girl was your only option…well, you hated to admit it, but she was better than nothing.

Especially if having her around kept you from getting in trouble with your partner.

Despite your hesitations, the first few days were fine.

Kate was surprisingly good at listening when she wanted to be and her weird charm made her the best candidate for going out to fetch your lunch. Sure, it was a little juvenile to make her your errand girl, but what else was an assistant for? Your duties as editor-in-chief were overwhelming most days, thanks to how much of a perfectionist Wanda is, and an errand girl was exactly what you needed.

You hated it but…it turned out the Bishop girl wasn't the worst person for the job. Even you could admit that.

It certainly helped that she seemed to be quite…enthusiastic around you. You wrote it off as her being excited about finally having a job after being a trust fund baby all her life.

That became harder to do, though, when you saw the way she acted around Wanda.

The blush that stained her cheeks, the constant stammering only to ramble on about something completely unrelated to the topic at hand, the way she fidgeted with her hands when no one was looking. It was far more amusing than it should have been.

You were hardly the right person to judge considering the heart eyes you constantly threw Wanda, even at work. It wasn't like your relationship was forbidden, even if HR probably wouldn't be happy about it, but the two of you still preferred to keep things discreet. Not simply because of the nature of your relationship, even though that was a big part of it.

While your promotion to executive editor had come before getting romantically involved with Wanda, people still talked. She already faced so much adversity, you hardly needed to add fuel to the fire.

Maybe that's what made Kate's reactions so damn endearing. She was you if had allowed your real feelings to slip through the cracks all those months ago.

However, when you brought up your observations to Wanda, her reaction wasn't what you expected.

The two of you were in her office, far past 5 PM, sharing a bottle of wine and pretending like you were actually editing the newest batch of stories sent in by the writers for next month's issue. When the silence started lingering, you brought it up.

"I think Kate's got a crush on you," you say with a grin far too big for the topic at hand.

Wanda meets your eyes over the rim of her glass. "Me? Oh, darling, you're far too intelligent to be so oblivious."

Her words only serve to confuse you and you try to ignore the warmth in your cheeks as your head tilts to the side. "What are you talking about?"

She allows herself a laugh as she sets her glass down and pats her lap in invitation. You waste no time in following her wordless offer, the tension in your shoulders already starting to lessen. Her hands land on your waist and she pulls you in as close as physically possible.

Once you're settled on her lap, she speaks again, her eyes glancing behind you for a second. You assume it's her being overly vigilant as always so you pay no mind to it. "Darling, Kate is embarrassingly head over heels for you."

If her grip on you wasn't so tight, you would have squirmed away out of embarrassment. "What? That can't be true."

All she does is smile, her hands rubbing up and down your sides. You're not sure if she's trying to distract you or not, but your thoughts get scattered all the same. "Trust me, detka, she doesn't care about this place enough to be doing all your biding."

Slowly, the wires in your brain start connecting. The process is slower than normal, though, thanks to the wine in your system and Wanda's hands on your body. "Then why'd you hire her?"

Instead of answering, she simply continues her slow exploration of your body. Even though you know what she's doing, you can't find it in yourself to care. Especially when her hands slip under your shirt. "You keep questioning me and you'll end up over my lap with a sore ass."

It's technically a threat, and yet your hips move against her before you can stop them. Wanda catches you, of course. She's far too attuned to your body and the way it reacts to her words, even when you don't want it to.

Whatever her plan is, it's working perfectly. As usual.

And while you could sit there and take it, you much prefer to be a brat about it. Like always.

"Are you going to actually do something or just keep talking?" You ask, grinding against her firm thigh.

Her eyes shift again, that smug smirk marking her features once more. "But you like it when I talk you through it, don't you?"

Before you can answer, one of her hands moves up and she slides two fingers into your mouth. It's unexpected, but you respond instantly all the same.

Her other hand remains on your waist, guiding you against her thigh. It should be embarrassing you much you want her. How needy you are that even the briefest touch gets you so desperate.

Instead, it feels fucking incredible.

"Don't worry," she murmurs, pushing her fingers in deeper just to take in the face you make. "I've got you."

Her words are meant to be comforting, and in a way they are, but more than anything, they give you the permission you need to let go. To stop thinking so damn much after a day of nonstop work and worrying.

Wanda sees it. She always does. And even though she could tease you about it, a part of her always longs to take care of you. It's hard for her to trust anyone, let alone want them around. It's different with you, though. It's always been different.

She slips her fingers out of your mouth only to slip them down the front of your trousers, a wicked glint in her eye shining as she finds the wetness staining your panties. "Already, darling? Did you miss me that much today?"

"I always do," you reply, walking the line between vulnerability and desire.

"Oh, I know. You just need me that much, huh?"

Despite the question, she gives you no time to actually answer. Instead, she slips her fingers under your panties to tease your clit.

The contact makes you jump, your hips conflicted about whether to move away or closer. Wanda makes the choice for you, though, squeezing your waist while her fingers slip inside your cunt.

You clench around the intrusion, head falling back as the pleasure moves up your spine. The sight of bared skin only makes the older woman move closer, her lips latching onto your neck. She knows better than to actually leave behind any hickies, despite how badly you both want her to.

She doesn't give you any time to think about that, though, because all your focus is given to her fingers pistoning in and out of you. Her pace is just fast enough to keep you gasping for air in between moans yet slow enough to feel her knuckles grazing against your walls.

"Wanda-" You gasp, your hands blindly griping her flexing biceps as she works you up effortlessly. Well, almost effortlessly, if the way her muscles move beneath your hands is anything to go by.

"Nice try, sweetheart," she mutters as she grazes her teeth against your pulse point. "Just because we're still at work doesn't mean you can forget your manners."

You whine despite yourself. "Please, mommy."

"Much better."

Your reward, besides the sweet praise, is her thumb toying with your aching clit. Your hips buck against her hand as you chase after the release slowly building. It's almost unfair how quickly she gets you to this point.

Then again, it's a much better alternative than when she gets into a sadistic mood and edges you over and over again only to ruin your orgasm and leave you spent and shaking on her expensive sheets.

Today, it seems she's in a much nicer mood because she keeps her fingers moving. "Do you want to cum, baby?"

You nod instantly, the condescending tone in her voice making your brain melt. "Yes, mommy! Please."

She trails a few kisses down your throat while her thumb toys mercilessly with your clit. It's almost like she's waiting until your whole body starts trembling to give you the command you crave.

"Alright, sweet girl, let go for me."

That's all your body needed to hear.

Your orgasms crashes into you all at once, pulling you down until all that's left is the overwhelming pleasure pulsing through your core. You can feel Wanda smiling against your skin as she slows down her movements, not stopping until she's sure she's wrung out every drop of your release.

You shift away from her when the feeling of her touch grows to be too much and she relents with a quick kiss to your jaw. "Good girl. You did so well for me, sweetheart."

All you can do is hum, your body already slumping against her. She chuckles at the action as her fingers find their way back into your mouth.

You're halfway to a much needed nap when Wanda shocks you awake with one simple sentence.

"If you're going to keep staring, you might as well come in, Kate."

Her free hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you against her even though all you want to do is run away. You've never let anyone except Wanda see you like this and you're not exactly thrilled about changing that right now. But, her embrace is still warm and if she takes care of the brunette's bad timing on her own, maybe it'll be fine. At least she takes her fingers out of your mouth to save you the embarrasment.

"I'm so sorry, I realized I forgot to drop off some paperwork and I assumed no one was here and then I saw you guys and-"

"And you decided to stop and watch instead of leaving." You don't have to be looking at her to know the smirk the older woman is wearing. "I didn't realize you were such a slut, Kate."

Wanda's voice lacks the harshness you had been expecting, but a brief glance toward the younger woman tells you she doesn't realize that. It's…cute, in a way. She looks like the most flustered deer in headlights you've ever seen and it weirdly works for her.

Kate opens her mouth a few times, trying to form words but failing miserably. The sight makes you giggle which makes Wanda glance down at you.

None of you seem quite sure of where to go, you just know Wanda's not mad and you're coming around to Kate's presence. Especially if being flustered means she's not talking all the time.

"Kate, if all you wanted was to be topped by Wanda, you didn't have to get a job here," you pipe up.

Your words seem to stun the room into silence and you shift enough to be able to watch the brunette's face turn an even deeper shade of pink. "I didn't- that's not-"

"It's not?" Wanda's eyebrow raise is almost inbedded in her tone. "You're not a good enough liar to try right now."

For a second, it looks like Kate is ready to run away from the conversation. But after a beat of silence, she rolls her shoulders back and straightens up, her chin held a little higher. "That's not why I applied to work here…and it's none of your business who I want to be topped by."

"It's both of us, isn't it?"

Wanda's question makes the brunette's confidence fall flat. "I...well, yes."

Despite the blush on her cheeks, her words are loud and clear. And they make you freeze long enough to realize Wanda was right.

Which just complicates things even more.

What the hell are you supposed to do now?

Wanda comes up with the answer for that question before you can even blink. And before you know it, she's inviting the brunette to her place, a seductive promise of "working things out" is the only hint either of you get about what she has up her sleeve.

You ask her about it at least ten times after Kate leaves and the two of you start packing up to go home. She doesn't answer, of course, and you force yourself to behave and be patient even though the mere thought of the brunette being allowed into your private world makes your heart pound in your chest…and your cunt clench around nothing.

Maybe the Bishop girl isn't so bad after all.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop #wandakate #hailee steinfeld #elizabeth olsen #avengers fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu imagine #wlw fic #writing #hawkeye

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sh4nksslvt · 2 months ago

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Espionage and Eavesdropping

You just wanted to surprise your Yonko boyfriend with something sweet. Shanks, however, misunderstands everything and thinks you're hiding a lover aboard.

shanks x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, chaotic

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing

word count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

You should’ve known better than to try anything secretive on a ship full of pirates with nothing better to do.

But here you were, crouched behind a stack of rum barrels in the ship’s lower deck, notebook clutched in one hand, whispering into a den den mushi like you were planning a military coup.

“I just need it by Thursday,” you hissed. “And don’t forget the edible glitter! It has to sparkle like Shanks’s ego.”

The den den mushi blinked at you slowly, mimicking your furrowed brows. “Sparkle. Got it. Any other unreasonable demands?”

“Make it look dangerously romantic, but also incredibly cool.”

“Sounds like you want a wedding cake without the wedding.”

You paused. “…Don’t say that out loud. He’ll hear it and assume I’m trying to marry someone else.”

And two decks above you, curled beneath a conveniently placed hammock and eavesdropping like a man twice his age, Shanks the Red-Haired Yonko of the Sea, whispered into his own den den mushi.

“I think they’re marrying someone else.”

“What?” Benn Beckman’s voice was dry.

“I just heard them say ‘don’t say that out loud, he’ll think I’m marrying someone else.’ That’s exactly what someone who’s definitely hiding an affair says, right?!”

“Shanks—”

“I KNEW they were too beautiful to be loyal.”

“You’re the most dramatic man on this ship.”

“I’m going to fake my own death and see if they cry.”

The misunderstanding began three days ago, when you asked Lucky Roux to quietly sneak into town and pick up something discreet and delicate. You’d given him a long list with unnecessary glitter stars and bold underlines, swore him to secrecy, and told him, “Tell no one. Especially Shanks. Not even if he’s dying. Especially not if he’s dying.”

Unfortunately, someone else heard that.

And Shanks? He took it personally.

Now you were organizing a surprise celebration for his birthday (which he had claimed he didn’t care about, like a liar), enlisting crew members with the stealth of a sea cat, and every time Shanks looked at you, you panicked like a criminal caught red-handed.

So of course he thought something was going on.

You’d whisper to Yasopp, run away from Hongo, disappear for hours, and dodge Shanks with the finesse of someone avoiding a breakup talk. He started following you in secret, wearing a cape and fake mustache, hiding behind crates that were nowhere near his size.

Benn walked past him one day and muttered, “This is why we can’t have normal relationships.”

Day Four.

You were on the main deck, whispering into your notebook.

“Benn’s distracting him with fake wine. Hongo’s handling the fireproof sparklers. Yasopp is swearing on his son’s life not to tell. I just need to—”

“—tell me who you’re seeing.”

You jumped so hard you nearly tossed the notebook overboard.

“Shanks! What the hell—how did you sneak up on me like that?!”

He was squinting suspiciously, arm on his hip, shirt loose, and hair windblown in a way that made him look far too attractive to be pulling this level of paranoid nonsense.

“I have connections,” he said ominously.

“Okay?”

“Lucky Roux saw you give a note to a pigeon.”

“First of all, it was a cake-ordering pigeon, and second—wait, that’s not the point. What?”

“You’ve been sneaking around. Whispering into things. Saying suspicious phrases like ‘don’t tell Shanks even if he’s dying.’ What am I supposed to think?!”

“That I’m planning something nice?”

“That you’re cheating!”

You blinked. Then blinked again.

“…Cheating? Shanks. Darling. Love of my life. Who on this ship could I possibly be cheating on you with?!”

He pointed dramatically toward the horizon. “Someone from another crew! A beautiful stranger with a strong jawline and a charming laugh—”

“That’s literally you.”

“Wait. Is this a reverse surprise? Am I the stranger?!”

“No!” you laughed, smacking his chest. “I’m planning a surprise party for you, you idiot!”

“…Oh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you… spy on me?”

Shanks hesitated. Then lifted one leg onto a crate like a theater actor mid-monologue. “I’ll have you know I was on a noble quest for truth, love, and the prevention of heartbreak.”

“You wore a mustache and tried to climb the rigging, didn’t you.”

He coughed. “Irrelevant.”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “Unbelievable. You thought I was cheating, so you started counter-spying?”

He nodded solemnly. “It was a matter of pride. Also, Benn said if I was wrong, I owed him all my sake.”

“…And were you wrong?”

Shanks looked at you. Then at the crew. Then back at you.

“…Maybe. But in my defense, you are very suspicious when you whisper.”

Cue Party Day.

Despite the chaos, the confusion, and the unnecessary disguises, the party was perfect.

The deck was transformed with string lights, stolen silk drapes, a truly dangerous amount of glitter, and a cake shaped like his own face (your idea, obviously). A very confused seagull in a bowtie delivered the final decorations.

Shanks walked into the surprise party pretending to be shocked—even though he’d definitely heard the band warming up from below deck—and laughed like it was the greatest moment of his life.

“You did all this for me?” he beamed.

You crossed your arms. “Yes. Even though you accused me of having a secret affair.”

He grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Well, I would cheat on me for you, so I get it.”

“…That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. I’m handsome.”

He kissed your cheek before you could argue, then pulled you onto the dance floor—barefoot, wild, and surrounded by pirates singing off-key. At some point, Lucky Roux accidentally ignited the fireproof sparklers (which were not fireproof), and Benn had to douse the deck while muttering about retirement.

You and Shanks ended the night lying on a picnic blanket made from stolen tavern tablecloths, eating leftover cake straight from the tray.

“Next time you plan a surprise,” he mumbled, mouth full, “just… tell me it’s not a secret affair.”

You poked his cheek. “Only if you don’t go full spy-movie mode again.”

He smiled. “Deal. Unless you start whispering to birds again. Then all bets are off.”

The next morning, you woke to find Shanks crouched on the figurehead, holding a long telescope and muttering, “The pigeon is back. I repeat. The pigeon. Is. Back.”

You dragged a pillow over your face and groaned.

Some things never change.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #fluff #idk man #idk what im doing #shanks #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #shanks x reader #red hair pirates #yonko

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callikari · 2 months ago

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YOU'RE MY FAVORITE ╰┈➤ kind of problem 。。。

PRECIS 。 he doesn't hate you (but he think he likes it that way.)

西村力 x fem!reader 1218 fluff highschool au opposite attract ─ kissing teasing emotional vulnerability skinship

REBLOG FOR A KiSS

nishimura riki hates mornings, loud people, and unnecessary affection. so of course, fate seats him next to you.

you — with your sparkly pens, cherry lip gloss, and the habit of being genuinely nice to everyone, including him. you talk too much, always smile like the world isn’t exhausting, and keep offering him gum even though he never says thank you.

(he always takes it.)

“you should smile more,” you say one morning, tapping the corner of his mouth with your pen. “you’d look cute if you didn’t look like you hate everything.”

“i don’t want to look cute,” he mumbles.

“too bad. you kind of do.”

he chokes on his water.

you treat him like someone worth taking care of.

when he shows up with damp hair, you push your umbrella into his hands without asking. when he skips breakfast, you press half your sandwich into his palm. you say his name like it’s normal to look at him gently, like it’s not strange to care even when he doesn’t make it easy.

and somehow, he doesn’t push you away.

riki acts annoyed. at your chatter. your energy. the way you remind him to drink water like you’re responsible for him now.

but then it’s picture day, and you’re fixing his tie like it’s second nature, murmuring something about how “you’d be helpless without me,” and he just… lets you. doesn’t move. doesn’t stop you.

when you pat his chest lightly after, like you’re proud of how he turned out, he has no idea what to do with that.

“look at you,” you say. “pretty boy.”

he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

he gets a paper cut during class and barely reacts, but you notice.

“riki. you’re bleeding.”

“it’s fine.”

you dig through your pencil pouch. “i’ve got bandaids—want rilakkuma or space rockets?”

“…rilakkuma?”

“thought so.”

you stick it on for him, then tap it once like sealing a deal. “good as new.”

he doesn’t respond. just leaves it on for the rest of the day.

“drink water,” you tell him, holding out your bottle.

“i’m not a toddler.”

“didn’t say you were. but dehydration makes you cranky.”

he glares at you, but takes it.

(he pretends not to notice the lip gloss mark on the rim.)

when you find out he’s been skipping meals, you start showing up with something wrapped in foil.

“what’s this?” he mumbles.

“something with actual nutrition, for once.”

“you’re acting like i’m five.”

“you’re acting like you don’t need it.”

he eats it anyway.

(you cut the crust off the next day without comment. he doesn’t complain.)

“you’re kind of like a cat,” you say once, watching him swat at a paper ball someone threw at him.

“what?”

“you pretend you don’t like people, but you keep showing up. and you’re grumpy when you’re hungry. and—” you grin— “you’re secretly affectionate when no one’s looking.”

“take it back.”

“never.”

you boop his nose. he mutters something under his breath and doesn’t meet your eyes for the rest of lunch.

one day he shows up late, hoodie on, eyes heavy. you don’t ask questions. just tug him toward the empty music room and sit him down.

you pull out a cookie from your bag. press it into his hand.

“eat first,” you say quietly. “then nap. i’ll wake you up before class.”

he looks at you like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. he eats in silence. and when he finally closes his eyes, you drape your jacket over him and keep watch.

he says your name softly, right before he dozes off.

that afternoon, he finds you by the back steps.

“why do you baby me?”

you look up from your phone. “what?”

“i’m not some charity case,” he mutters. “you don’t have to do all this.”

you shrug. “i know.”

“then why?”

you blink at him, like the answer’s obvious. “because i like you.”

he freezes.

“like, not just ‘you’re tolerable’ like. i actually like you. and you’re terrible at taking care of yourself, so i do it for you.”

“…oh.”

“you okay?”

he hesitates. “you like me?”

“yes, riki.”

“…like, really?”

“you’re exhausting,” you sigh. “yes.”

he stares. then: “can i hold your hand or are you gonna turn this into a whole thing?”

you smile. “i mean, i could—”

he takes your hand.

you stop talking.

he’s still grumpy. still rolls his eyes when you make a big deal out of nothing. still pretends he’s unaffected when you fix his hair or lean your head on his shoulder.

but he lets you do it all.

and when he calls you “sunshine” under his breath — quiet and honest, like the word is just for you — you pretend not to hear it, just so he’ll say it again.

he’s not good at affection. not the way you are. his hands get awkward, his words feel clumsy, and he never knows if he’s doing enough.

but he tries.

he starts carrying an extra granola bar in his bag — not for himself, but for you, when you’re running late or forget to eat. he won’t say it’s for you, but he slides it across your desk when you’re too tired to smile and mumbles, “you always feed me. figured i’d return the favor.”

you beam at him like he just handed you the sun.

he nearly explodes.

one day, it’s cold and rainy and you show up to school shivering, jacket forgotten. at lunch, you come back from the vending machine to find his hoodie draped over your seat.

you look at him.

he doesn’t meet your eyes. “it’s not a big deal.”

“riki—”

“just wear it.”

you slip it on. it smells like fabric softener and him.

“you’re warm,” you tell him.

“shut up,” he says, ears red.

when you forget your umbrella, he waits outside your classroom after school, pretending he was “just passing by.” walks you home without a word. you don’t bring it up, and neither does he. but the next day, he hands you a compact umbrella, still in the wrapper.

“keep it in your bag,” he says. “you forget stuff.”

you blink. “you bought this for me?”

“don’t make it weird.”

you smile anyway.

he starts noticing the little things — how your hands get cold easily, how your hair gets tangled when it’s windy, how you forget to take breaks when you’re stressed.

so he does what he can.

throws a scarf at you in the morning. pulls you toward the shade when it’s too hot. slips your favorite snacks into your bag with no note, no explanation, just a quiet kind of care.

it’s not perfect, but it’s him. trying.

and you notice. of course you do.

“you’re getting good at this,” you whisper one day, threading your fingers through his as he walks you home.

“at what?”

“being mine.”

he squeezes your hand. doesn’t say anything.

but when you get to your door, he kisses your forehead — awkward, fast, barely a brush — and mutters, “you’re my favorite, okay? just… don’t tell anyone.”

you grin. “your secret’s safe with me.”

(he kisses you properly a week later. still shy. still soft. but this time, he doesn’t pull away.)

taglist is open :: @nocturnebite @cheruphic @chrrific @manaah02 @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read @ijustwannareadstuff20

vi says :: i worked hard on this so i hoped you enjoyed it TT

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certaimromance · 11 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 Cupid Walks Right.

Spencer Reid x Avoidant!BAU!reader

series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: You've been hiding your attraction to your coworker for a long time, until a few pictures of him kissing a celebrity in a pool unleash emotions you can't control.

Words: 1,6k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!bau!reader. mentions of crime and arms. spoilers for s1 e18 ("somebody's watching"). hurt+comfort. two idiots in love. lots of jealousy. fluff. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: The reader is simply me every time I watch that episode but with a lot more drama to make it interesting.

One bullet after another hit the paper meters away from you, with each shot more accurate than the previous one. You had lost count of how many cartridges you had already spent because your mind was full of thoughts that only the sound of the shots echoing in the shooting room managed to silence and give you back a little control of the situation.

Memories of one of the last cases still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't understand why. It hadn't even been something relevant enough to stick in your mind that much, it was just a crazy stalker obsessed with a celebrity and more of the same old same old in terms of creating a profile. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, and it had ended well, with a happy ending that included Spencer kissing the victim he was supposed to be protecting.

That was the crux of the issue, the root of your problem.

You saw some photos that captured the moment in vivid detail and wanted to run out and throw up in the nearest trash can. You held back to avoid answering embarrassing questions, blaming your bad feelings on the last thing you ate and insisting that you were just satisfying your curiosity. But as they say, curiosity always kills the cat.

Maybe it was because it was unprofessional and unnecessary, maybe you were in a bad mood and needed to relax, maybe you were upset that the guy with the germ problem had shared saliva with a stranger, maybe you didn't like Lila Archer because of her performances, or maybe you just wanted to be in her shoes and have him kiss you like that. And for heaven's sake, maybe you've had a few inappropriate dreams about it lately.

You were just about to fire again to get the thoughts out of your mind when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, ready to defend yourself with the gun in your hand.

“Wait, wait, it's me. I'm sorry.” Spencer raised his arms in a sign of peace and took a few steps back. “Just me.”

“What are you doing here? You scared me.” You lowered the gun and placed it on the table, trying to sound less abrupt. “I thought everyone had gone home.”

He approached you again, checking the open shells and the pile of bullets on the ground. He was quite surprised to see how many times you had hit the target with perfect shots, and how you still seemed intent on continuing, even though it was almost two in the morning. It wasn't practice, because you didn't need it, it was something else, and you seemed quite angry about it.

“I spent the hour going through some papers and saw the light on in here. I thought I'd come and have a look.” He explained, trying to follow your gaze, which seemed to elude his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

You started gathering your things and cleaning up the space you'd been using, planning to leave as soon as possible because of his presence. It had been weeks since you'd been alone with him because you'd managed to avoid seeing him as best you could. You'd even managed to convince Hotch that it was time for him to pair you up with someone else during the cases to experiment. You didn't even know why he'd listened to you, but it had been a great relief.

“You're leaving already?” Spencer asked, and you just nodded. “Can I take you home?”

Usually he drove you home, because your car was still at the mechanic and you refused to buy a new one. You always used the minutes you spent together to talk about something other than cases, they were moments of relaxation that you both appreciated. The big difference was that now you couldn't afford that luxury without feeling strange.

“Don't worry, I'll call a taxi.” You grabbed your jacket from a nearby locker. “I'm fine.” You added, with the intention of heading for the door until he stopped you by the wrist.

“Is everything okay...between us?” He asked as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You said, feigning confusion. You always knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something was off with you. After all, he worked in profiling.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked again, in a lower voice, sounding a little more vulnerable than he'd intended. That instantly made you feel bad, you didn't want to hurt him with your confusion.

“No.”

He let out a sigh at your automatic response. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he felt a wave of relief for a few seconds. But then he looked into your eyes for a moment and hesitated, biting his lower lip.

“So...why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, sounding a little shy and with a hint of apprehension in his voice. “Or not looking at me at all.”

“I'm not doing anything.” You make excuses.

He got the chills when he heard your voice, which came across as cold and distant.

“You're giving me that look.”

You gave a little frown and folded your arms, as if to say you didn't agree.

“What look?"

“You look at me like I've done something wrong, like you're disappointed or angry...I think both. You barely look me in the eye, you walk away every time I want to talk to you, you don't sit near me on the jet or want to work with me anymore. And you've been like this for a week.” He paused for a second, remembering when your strange behavior started. “Ever since the L.A. case.”

The room was suddenly filled with silence and a palpable tension. You had been foolish to think Spencer wouldn't notice your remoteness, given his perceptive nature. But you didn't have a choice. You didn't want to appear jealous when you didn't even have feelings for him, you were just ovulating or something like that.

“Is it because...because of Lila? I heard Morgan say some things, and you haven't treated me the same since.” His wavering voice sounded more and more confident, as if he still had to convince himself of his point of view. “I want to know what you think, please.”

You could only curse Derek for exposing you like that. He was the only one who knew about your strange attraction to Reid because he had caught you looking at him several times and you had confessed it to him once in a bar after several drinks and a ridiculous game of cross questions. Since that night, the jokes and suggestions about making out with Spencer under a tree had begun.

But a beautiful actress did it before you, in her pool, with lots of pictures to prove it.

“I'm not one to tell you what to do, but I think your actions were unprofessional and most of all risky.” You spoke after a few seconds, clearing your throat and trying to contain the burning you felt. “It could have ended badly.”

Come on, you would have done the same thing. You often thought about what it would be like to kiss him in the middle of an investigation, especially when he kept giving important details. So you were a little hypocritical.

“I'm only saying that because I care about you.” You added, noticing how confused he looked.

“I know, I care about you too.” He replied calmly, taking a step toward you to touch your arm. “This has been bothering you?”

You froze at his warm touch and the implications you thought he was making about you, nodding as if hypnotized. Had he realized that you had been jealous all along? That you wanted to go back so he could kiss you and not her? That you wanted him to put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you deeply until you were breathless?

“I think I understand, but don't worry about me. I won't do anything dangerous anymore.”

Oh, he hadn't noticed.

Spencer really thought that you were just concerned about his safety because he was your friend and your partner on cases, that you were just frustrated that you weren't there to back him up in case things went wrong. It didn't even occur to him that it was something much deeper and more heated than that.

“So, all good?” He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sure.” You lied, with a strange lump in your throat at the guarded words. “I just didn't know you liked blondes.” You added in a fake teasing tone.

Despite your clearly suspicious tone, Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I like your hair color.”

A strange bubbling sensation reached your stomach and made you smile.

“Mine?” You asked, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“Yes, it's like it's perfect for you.” He carefully brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, causing the feeling in your stomach to identify itself as butterflies fluttering nonstop.

“You're telling me because I have a gun?” You tried to change the subject with a nervous laugh. “I'm not a celebrity, after all.”

“You don't have to be one to be as pretty as you are. But you could be if you wanted to, and...” He started to talk about statistics and a bunch of data you didn't even know, but strangely enough you didn't listen to him this time because you were stuck on the first sentence.

Spencer really thought you were pretty.

It was only then that you realized something had changed. The only successful shot had been Cupid's arrow to your heart.

Because, damn it, you were totally in love with that man.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid imagine #mon’s fics ♡

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xxjullyx · 3 months ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮…

𝐫𝐞𝐝!𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Frightened by the knowledge that someone was watching you from the shadows, you asked your friend for help, not knowing that because of it his dark secret would come to light. The one you never should have known about.

𝐜𝐰: nsfw (+18) / obsessive and dark clark / marking / oral sex (f. receiving) / choking / fingering (f. receiving) / clark is manipulative / possessiveness / size difference / red kryptonite clark kent.

-Why resist me now? You made your choice when you decided to let me inside - Clark whispered these words directly into your ear, making you shiver.

His voice sounded so familiar , his face was so well known to you , yet there was something deeply hidden in his eyes , something dangerous. His large arms drew you impossibly closer to his body , which seemed to consume your smaller form , while your hands tried to push him away. But you knew that no matter how hard you fought , you would lose every time when your opponent was Clark Kent.

His lips began to glide along your face , marking its soft skin , heading lower and lower to find their place in the hollow of your neck.

-Clark , what are you doing? - you asked, trying to control the trembling of your voice and the heat that was flooding your body like wildfire.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye , which was tinted with scarlet , but as quickly as it appeared just as quickly it disappeared leaving behind irises as green as the emeralds.

-I'm taking what's mine - he replied in a tone that made the statement seem oh so obvious, as if asking questions in this situation was simply irrational and unnecessary.

-I'm…I'm not yours Clark , I never was - you proclaimed quietly , struggling to maintain the stability of your voice caused by the wet kisses left by the brunet.

After your words his embrace seemed to become stronger , more possessive. His face no longer hidden behind the veil of your hair aligned with yours , while your eyes met in silent conversation.

-Don't lie to yourself Y/n - said the boy, grabbing the back of your neck to keep your head in one place, so that you could not escape, so that you had to look at him - You are mine - he announced, and a smile appeared on his face that made your heart beat faster - Don't you remember? You ran to me crying that someone was watching you, you asked me for help, you saw in me a hero who will save you. From the beginning you wanted to be mine because you knew that I was the only one who could protect you and love you the way you needed. Don't fight it and don't try to deny it , I know that you wanted to be mine. And now you are.

-Clark you are scaring me - you whispered, feeling a suffocating sensation in your chest, the same one you felt every time it seemed like something was hiding in the shadows, ready to snatch you away as soon as you turned your gaze away.

-I'm not scaring you - he replied with unexpected tenderness , putting a lost strand of hair behind your ear -You're just overwhelmed but I'll take care of you. I'll watch over you… like I always do.

-Like you always do - you repeated after him almost inaudibly, while in your mind these words echoed loudly against the walls of your head like thunderbolts during a violent storm, and no matter how hard you tried to drown them out, they only grew louder and louder, twisting your paranoia further and further until something inside you broke and the terrifying truth crawled through the cracks.

Clark was the one who was watching you.

A feeling of being trapped spread through your veins and the brunet sensed it almost instantly as if he could hear your heart, as if he held it in his hand, knowing exactly how intensely it was beating against your chest and rumbling in your ears.

-Don't be afraid - he said, taking your face between his big palms -You have nothing to be afraid of. You know I would never hurt you. I love you.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

-You love me? - you asked, furrowing your brow, in disbelief at the words that came out of Clark's mouth - That can't be true. You love Lana , it was always Lana Lang , not me.

-It was never her, it was always you. I was stupid and blind to see what I had infront of me all this time , but I know what I want now. I want you. Only you Y/n - he muttered, moving closer to you with every word he said, until his lips brushed against yours and your breaths mingled.

You felt torn between your mind trying to stay sober with all its might, making you recall over and over again the nights where you lay there in a bead of sweat, paranoid about the eyes watching you from the darkness and the heart that kept pounding against your bones, almost making you lose your breath, but now for a completely different reason - desire. Desire that slowly possessed your body, which instead of resisting gave up without a fight.

Your lips involuntarily touched those of the brunet, while your eyes became misty with emotions that you should not be feeling right now.

God…maybe you were as sick as he was.

-Clark - you whispered in a trembling voice , hesitantly placing both of your palms on his broad neck , feeling his heated skin with the pads of your fingertips - I...

-Tell me what you want. I will give it to you , but first you must use your words - he said , pressing his thumb against the lower lip of your mouth, watching the pink tissue flex under his finger.

-I want…you - you replied slowly , almost as if you were drunk -I want you Clark.

-What do you want of me? - he asked , sliding his hands along your body , stopping them on the bare skin of your waist.

-I need you closer, closer than humanly possible - you breathed out, wetting your lips with the corner of your tongue, which didn't escape Clark's attention.

-Your wish is my command - he responded , smirking deviously , brushing your lips with his , each time more aggressively and passionately , until the kisses between you turned into something more than an exchange of affection.

The whole act seemed almost animalistic. His hands touched every inch of your body, while you desperately clutched his T-shirt between your fingers so tightly that they became almost numb. But each wanted the same thing, each wanted to discover more, to feel more.

Impatience crept into the actions, causing Clark to rip off your white lace top, revealing your firm breasts. His mouth clung to them almost instantly , tasting the newly discovered flesh , while your quiet moans entwined his ears like ivy.

-Clark…Clark…please more…I need more - you howled out , no longer recognising your own voice.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye , then lifted your body up. You responded by embracing his hips with your thighs, drawing your fingers between his thick hair, bringing your lips together in another hot dance. The brunet did not break from the sweet caresses you were giving him and moved forward, upstairs, straight to your bedroom. He did not break away from you even for a moment , his body knew where to go , he did not need to ask or see. This scared you as much as it excited you.

Before you could try to regain even a shred of consciousness , your naked back met the soft material of your bed sheets. Clark's arms never stopped holding you , needing your closeness more than air.

-You're mine- he growled, looking at your face, your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hazy eyes and dishevelled hair, you were so addictive to him.

-I am yours Clark - you claimed, taking his face in your hands, pulling him towards you, so that your mouth could meet again in a passionate kiss - Forever - you added in a whisper, before you tasted his pink lips, pulling him impossibly closer to your body.

With these words, the brunet pressed even harder against you, so hard that you could feel bruises forming under his hands, while his face found its place between the valley of your breasts, sucking and abusing the skin there, turning it a burgundy shade.

You let out a loud mewl in response, closing your eyes in ecstasy, but it didn't last long because Clark pulled away suddenly from your body, forcing you to open your eyes to see why. His gaze didn't leave your silhouette even for a moment , as his hands grasped the black material of his shirt , pulling it off in one sure motion , tossing it into the corner and almost immediately returning to you.

You welcomed him with open arms, embracing his body, feeling his hard muscles under your palms, shifting with every movement he made as his fingers slid lower and lower until they reached the fabric of your denim skirt.

He ripped it off along with the underwear you were wearing, leaving you completely naked , letting his eyes feast.

His right hand moved slowly along your body, leaving behind a shivering sensation that ran down your spine, eventually stopping at your pubic bone before sliding two fingers between your pink, wet folds , making you gasp.

You followed his movements in silence, too mesmerised by what your eyes saw before you to notice that Clark had been watching you since his fingers made contact with your womanhood. He pushed on your swollen clit with his fingertips, circling it slowly but roughly before sliding two fingers into your hot entrance, causing a loud moan mixed with a cry to come out of your mouth.

-Look at me - he ordered before his other hand made contact with your neck , lifting your chin with his thumb so that you turned your gaze towards him.

-Clark? - you breathed out , feeling his hand cover your entire neck , clenching tighter and tighter , gradually blocking your air supply.

-Keep looking at me. I need to see you , need to see your face when you fall apart - he muttered into your hair , inhaling the sweet scent of your floral shampoo.

You nodded your head in an act of obedience , refusing to find out what will happen if you choose to disobey his command.

Seeing this brunet, returned to the sweet torture of stroking the walls of your womanhood, stimulating it with slow thrusts, hitting the spot that make you see starts again and again , which made the muscles in your legs tense up, spasming intensely.

Your mouth kept opening, unable to stop the loud whimpering caused by Clark, who didn't stop moving his fingers even for a moment, getting rougher and rougher with each stroke, making your even more wet, so wet that you could feel your juices running down your bum, staining the bed beneath you.

-Clark…Clark…I'm so close…please Clark - you mumbled, desperately grabbing his bicep , trying to tell him this way that the knot in your lower abdomen was on the verge of bursting.

-Cum for me pretty girl- he replied to your pleas, keeping a pace that made you slowly lose your mind ,while gently massaging your clit with his thumb - Make a mess on my fingers. Mark me like I marked you.

You did as he told you , as if your body was under his power. Tilting your head back, you closed your eyes and let your throat release a broken scream as your body burst into flames.

Clark didn't take his eyes off you for even a second , needing to engrave that moment in his mind like a tattoo that would stay with him forever. Yet as his eyes remained glued to your face , his hands began to move slowly , not to alarm you.

But the moment the other body's heat left your side, your mind sobered up. Your body, though exhausted, tried to get up, tried to find Clark Kent. Despite the fact that not so long ago you felt fear towards him, now you only feel longing , longing to be close to him.

His lips pulled you suddenly from your mind as they found their place above your navel , kissing the skin there , tasting it with the tip of his tongue , gliding it slowly down , tasting you almost as if you were nothing more than a dessert he wanted to consume , while his hands moved with the motion of his mouth , sliding down and enveloping the fat of your thighs , placing them on his broad shoulders.

When his tongue touched your puffy and red folds you uncontrollably thrust your pelvis forward, trapping him between your inner thighs. He, in response, growled like an animal, clamping his fingers on your soft flesh , drawing your bodies closer together.

You squirmed under him, moaning and whimpering repeatedly, unable to stop yourself. The feeling of his tongue tasting you was like a drug to which you were slowly becoming addicted. And when he once again slipped his fingers inside your hot and wet core, you couldn’t take it any longer, crying out in the ecstasy that racked your overstimulated body , letting it flow through your veins.

Clark watched in thrill as your body relived in another powerful orgasm that he had caused, licking everything you gave him, feeling your muscles go limp under his fingertips , seeing your eyes struggle to stay open , and oh still so desperately trying to have him close, holding his large hand in your much smaller one.

In that moment he knew. He had you exactly where he wanted you, at his mercy, addicted to him as much as he was to you.

#smallville #smallville smut #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #clark kent smut #red kryptonite #tom welling #clark kent fanfiction #smallville fanfiction #red!clark kent #superman x reader #superman smut #smallville 2001 #clark kent smallville

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brunettemarionette · 4 months ago

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𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 😈 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞.

💜femalemechanic!reader x sons of anarchy

🔮summary. When you first got hired at Teller-Morrow, you thought you'd just be turning wrenches and fixing bikes, but it quickly became obvious that you're the new favorite around here.

But when a customer gets too bold and puts hands on you, suddenly everyone is reminded you're untouchable when the guys step in.

🌙t.w. Sexual Harassment. Threats of Violence. Intimidation. Mild Language/Crude Remarks. Physical Confrontation

✨wc. 1.1k

This post is what inspired this little femalemechanic!reader series I'm going to do so reblogs, comments and feedback are very highly appreciated. Please feel free to send ideas my way or inbox me (even if just for anonymous feedback). Hope you all enjoy!

The sound of wrenches clinking and engines rumbling filled the air at Teller-Morrow, the familiar scent of oil and grease clinging to your skin like a second layer.

The shop had quickly become a second home to you, though you still didn't fully understand the club's inner workings. What you did understand, however, was that the Sons of Anarchy seemed to take an unusual interest in your presence.

At first, you chalked it up to them being friendly.

Jax, for instance, always seemed to be around when you needed something though, in hindsight, you never actually asked for help. "Need a hand with that, darlin'?" he'd offer, even if all you were doing was tightening a bolt. He'd lean against a nearby workbench, arms crossed, watching with an amused smirk.

It was nice that they were all so willing to help, even if it sometimes felt like you had too many supervisors at once.

Opie had a similar habit of being conveniently nearby. He never lingered as obviously as Jax, but he was always nearby. "Just grabbing this," he'd say, reaching for a tool, rag, or something completely unnecessary. He'd stick around longer than needed, watching with that unreadable expression of his.

Then there was Tig. He had no concept of personal space; that much was clear. "Damn, girl," he'd say, leaning way too close for someone who didn't need to be in your workspace. "You sure you weren't born to work on bikes? 'Cause I swear, watching you turn a wrench is the highlight of my day."

You'd roll your eyes, laughing it off. Tig was just like that with everyone.

Even Chibs and Juice had their own ways of hovering. Chibs would tease, calling you lass and finding ways to keep you engaged in conversation, while Juice, sweet but a little awkward tried to get your attention with random trivia or stupid bets with the other guys.

And then there was Happy, who'd just silently walk into your work area and take a seat, watching as you tinker, all while moving that toothpick around in his mouth before stalking off again wordlessly a while later.

It was all a little overwhelming, but you figured this was just how the Sons were—flirty, overprotective, and oddly competitive with each other. Besides, it was nice to feel included. You'd never had this kind of easy camaraderie before in this environment, and you weren't about to question it.

Gemma, on the other hand, saw right through them. She watched it all unfold with a knowing smirk, arms crossed like a mother watching her kids make fools of themselves.

Even Clay seemed amused by the way the guys found excuses to be around you. "Bunch of idiots," he muttered one afternoon, shaking his head as Jax and Juice argued over who got to hand you a wrench before Happy silently handed one to you.

Gemma chuckled. "Let 'em have their fun."

You, of course, remained blissfully unaware that you were the fun.

That all changed the day a customer got a little too comfortable.

You were at the front of the shop, wiping your hands on a rag as you explained the details of a tune-up to a man who had just brought in his car. He was middle-aged, maybe in his late forties, with a cocky smirk that immediately set off warning bells, not that you noticed.

Smiling politely, you handed him the clipboard, explaining the breakdown and keeping your tone professional. "So, with the labor and parts, you're looking at about—"

"You got a pretty face for a mechanic," He interrupted, looking you up and down.

You blinked partly in shock at his audacity and the other in surprise he was so bold in his words. "Uh, thanks?" You tried to steer the conversation back. You were used to men either hitting on you or speaking down to you. "So, if you're good with this, we can—"

"You sure you wanna be doing this?" He smirked, leaning in slightly. "Seems like a waste. A girl like you should be doing something... prettier. A pretty girl like yourself should have a guy taking care of her."

You felt your stomach twist, your grip tightening on the clipboard, trying not to yell at the customer. "I like what I do," you said, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even. "Now, if you're good with the estimate—"

He didn't let you finish as his hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your skin crawl. "Come on, sweetheart," he drawled. "maybe I could take you out sometime. Show you what it's like to be treated right. Show you how a real man—"

The hand was gone before you could react. One second, the guy was standing too close, and the next, he was stumbling backward, Jax's fist curled in his collar. The sound of the impact—fabric twisting, shoes scuffing against the concrete—was sharp, final.

Jax's voice was low, dangerous. "You touch her again, you're leavin' in a body bag."

The shop had gone silent. Tools were set down, and chairs scraped against the floor as Tig, Opie, and Juice moved in. Chibs cracked his knuckles, and Happy—who still hadn't said a word—was now staring the guy down with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

The customer, who had, up until now, been cocky and self-assured, realized too late that he had made a very big mistake. His hands shot up in surrender. "Hey, man, it was just a—"

"Get the hell out," Jax snapped, taking a step closer. "Now."

The man didn't hesitate. He turned and practically ran out of the shop, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, leaving his car behind without a second thought. The moment he was gone, the tension snapped like a rubber band.

It took you a second to realize you were still holding the clipboard in a death grip. You exhaled, forcing yourself to loosen your fingers. Opie was suddenly in front of you; his usual stoic expression softened. "You okay?"

You blinked at him, still processing what just happened. "Uh, yeah. I mean... that was a little intense."

Tig grinned, but there was still something dangerous in his expression. "Welcome to the family, sweetheart. No one touches what's ours."

You frowned at that. "Ours?"

Jax smirked, running a hand through his hair like he hadn't just threatened a man's life. "Don't think too hard about it, darlin'."

You did think about it. For about two seconds. And then you shrugged, figuring it was just their way of saying they had your back, but one thing was clear—this wasn't just a job anymore. These guys weren't just co-workers. They were family, and they had just made one thing very clear.

You are untouchable.

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moonriizing · 6 months ago

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is it new year’s yet? | l.hs (18+)

Coming home for Christmas is your least favorite part of the year. But this time, you're up for a pleasant surprise when you get introduced to your cousin's friend from uni, Lee Heeseung.

Genre: holiday fling, smut Pairing: Lee Heeseung x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 9.7k words. Listening to is it new year's yet by Sabrina Carpenter. First post on this blog and first enha fic! Do let me know what you think about this. Thank you! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally, nor do I claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol (nct mark), that is me. xoxo, cal.

Holidays are for family reunions and coming home to bond with your loved ones. Bullshit. You’d rather be anywhere but here.

Here being your family home, bright and cheerful with Christmas decors and merry chatter from relatives and family friends. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread permeated the halls and the Christmas songs playing from the speakers your mother had strategically placed around the house were grating on your nerves, making you dizzier than the champagne you were drinking.

Home. Familiar, warm, and somehow... suffocating.

You didn’t hate your family—far from it. You loved them with every fiber of your being. But that didn’t make the family tradition of hosting a horde of relatives and family friends for Christmas any less unbearable.

You should be used to it by now, considering how your mother had always made it her mission to be the ultimate hostess. What might have seemed magical when you were a kid now felt so unnecessary. As you grew older, it became harder to tolerate the endless stream of insufferable relatives and their even more insufferable commentary.

“Did you lose weight?” a distant aunt asked, her eyes raking over you like you were a mannequin in a store window. “You need to eat more. You’re so skinny.”

Just call me fat, why don’t you? you thought to yourself, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “I know. I did it on purpose,” you replied curtly before tossing back the last of your champagne. You didn’t wait for her reaction. You simply walked away, the bubbles fizzing in your throat as you searched for somewhere to hide.

You wove your way through the crowd, dodging overly familiar pats on the shoulder and sidelong glances that screamed When are you graduating? or Where’s your boyfriend?

The living room was packed with people swapping stories you’d heard a hundred times before. The scent of pine from the overdecorated tree blended with the warm spice of wine and sugary sweetness from the dessert table. The whole atmosphere was so perfect and festive that it made it a little hard to breathe.

You needed air. Or another drink. Although, both are fine too.

In the kitchen, you poured yourself another glass of champagne and leaned against the counter, fishing out your phone to scroll mindlessly. A part of you considered texting Yeonjun—the guy you couldn’t stop thinking about. He was probably back in the city, having the time of his life at some glittering party—champagne in hand, gorgeous people all around, someone to kiss at midnight.

“Fuck this,” you muttered under your breath, stuffing your phone back in your pocket as you walked out of the kitchen.

Rounding the corner too fast, you slammed into someone—a steady grip caught your arm before the champagne could spill.

“Easy there,” he said, his voice low and warm. You glanced up and found a stranger: messy hair, sharp jawline, and an easy smile that contrasted with the chaos around you. He looked your age, maybe a bit older.

“Thanks,” you muttered, eyeing him curiously. You could not remember seeing him anywhere before, so naturally, your immediate assumption was that he was a guest’s plus one. He could be a cousin’s boyfriend or something and you were just about to ask him that when your cousin Jake appeared beside him.

“Oooh, look who showed up!” Jake said, tilting his head with that playful glint you always found irritating.

You rolled your eyes. “I always show up.”

“Of course you do.” Jake leaned against the wall, arms crossed and grinning. “You hate it here, don’t you?”

You tilted your head at him, pretending to think. “What gave it away? My overflowing enthusiasm?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Jake teased. “A little family bonding with your favorite aunts would be nice. Aren’t you supposed to pack them a gift each?”

You drained the last of your champagne, letting the fizz linger as you looked at your cousin. “I’d rather die.”

Jake laughed, nudging Heeseung with his elbow. “This is my cousin. She’s the resident Grinch. But don’t worry; she’s fun when she wants to be.”

“I can hear you,” you gloated.

“I know,” he said, his grin widening. “So? Are you going to spend the whole night sipping champagne like a miserable bore?”

You gave him a flat look. “Oh my god. You can read minds?” you deadpanned.

“Well, perfect! You’re already dressed for the occasion,” he quipped, gesturing vaguely at your casual attire. He laughed but stopped when you didn’t even crack a smile. “Tell you what, Heeseung and I are heading out. You’re welcome to join us if you want to.”

“No.”

“Come on. It’s gonna be fun.” Before you could refuse again, Jake slung an arm around your shoulder and turned to Heeseung. “She’ll come. She just likes to play hard to get.”

“I really won’t,” you retorted, trying to shrug him off. “I don’t feel like tailing you two all night.”

“What else are you gonna do—sit in a corner and glare at people?”

You rolled your eyes, but the answer was obvious. Staying inside meant more questions, more relatives, more everything you were trying to avoid.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if you drag me into something ridiculous—”

“You’ll have fun. Promise,” Jake interrupted and then turned to Heeseung. “She’s coming.”

Heeseung’s smile was easy, almost reassuring. “No pressure. It’ll be chill.”

You smirked. “You clearly don’t know Jake.”

With that, Jake led the way, practically bouncing out the door. You followed, stuffing your hands into your coat pockets as Heeseung fell into step beside you.

The winter air hit you like a slap, crisp and biting, slicing through the lingering scents of cinnamon and pine. It was a relief, though, clearing your head from the stifling warmth of the house. You walked down the quiet streets with Jake, Heeseung, and a few friends you used to hang out with growing up. They led the way, cracking jokes and tossing playful banter back and forth, while you stuck closer to the back with Heeseung.

“I can’t believe they’re still dating,” you muttered, eyeing a pair in front of you.

“Who? Them?” Heeseung asked, making you glance briefly at them.

You nodded. “They started dating when we were sophomores in high school. And they’re still together.”

Heeseung hummed. “They must really like each other then.”

You grimaced, eyeing the lovey-dovey couple in front. “I don’t know. They used to break up and make up. It was exhausting. Everyone thought they’d break up for good after graduation. But, well… here we are.”

“Guess they like running in circles,” Heeseung said lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He glanced sideways at you. “What about you? Do you think people like that can actually work out?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if the question was casual or probing. “I think it depends on how much drama you can stomach. Personally, I’d rather avoid it altogether.”

Heeseung tilted his head thoughtfully. “No drama, huh? That’s a pretty high bar for relationships.”

You smirked, knowing how ironic it was for you to say this despite having a relationship drama. “Tell me about it,” you mumbled.

It was easy to figure out Heeseung’s intentions. The whole time, he didn’t try to hide it, nor did he try to send mixed signals. It was pretty clear with how close he was standing beside you, how his shoulder almost brushed yours. The way Heeseung’s eyes lingered on you when you spoke, the way he tilted his head when you laughed, like he was committing the sound to memory. How, even when you weren’t talking, he stayed within arm’s reach, his gaze flickering to you every now and then. How his focus remained on you.

And then there was the way he leaned in just slightly when he made a comment, his voice low, his words meant only for you.

He was attentive in a way that surprised you, even in the most casual moments. As you explained how you and your friends used to kill time in this sleepy town—late-night drives to the lookout point, sneaking snacks into the single-screen movie theater, racing bikes down the old dirt trail—Heeseung listened with genuine curiosity, his eyes lighting up with every story.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said when you were alone at the swings. You sat comfortably on the swing while he pushed you gently. “Not only did you race down a hill that sounds like a death trap, but you’re telling me you were the reigning champion?”

You tilted your head, feigning offense. “Why do you sound so skeptical?”

“Oh, I believe you,” he said, his smirk widening. “I’m just wondering how many people you bribed to throw the race.”

You gasped playfully. “Excuse me, I won fair and square.”

“Sure you did.” His laughter was low, warm, the kind that made you feel comfortable with him.

You smirked. “Why else would I bring it up? Go ask them.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “You seem really confident… I believe you.”

You were quiet for a while, with only the creaking sound of swing filling the silence. The tip of your shoes dragged lightly with every swing, carving the damp ground underneath.

Heeseung asked after the silence stretched out. “So, is that all you did for fun around here?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a shrug. “Lame, huh?”

“Not at all. It’s simple but it has its charm,” he said softly, pausing as he held the swing tight to stop it. “It says a lot about you though.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Are you calling me charming?”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice light but his gaze unwavering. “What would you do if I was?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends. Is this small-town charm talking, or do you actually mean it?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, aren’t you a smooth talker?” you teased, though your voice had softened, your usual sharpness dulled by the way Heeseung was looking at you.

He grinned, leaning just a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “Only with the right company.”

You held his gaze. “Right company, huh?” you murmured, your heart thudding as you tilted your head, meeting his eyes.

He smiled faintly, his voice dipping lower. “You know I mean it.”

His gaze lingered on you, his head tilting ever so slightly as he leaned closer. You barely noticed the chill in the air anymore, not when the space between you seemed to shrink. His hand brushed the chain of the swing, his fingers close enough to graze yours. His breath mixed with yours, the faint scent of his cologne and the crisp night air filling the gap. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he leaned in, his focus entirely on you.

Your fingers twitched on the swing’s chain, almost brushing his. His lips hovered near yours now, and for a moment, everything else faded away—

“Yo, there you are!” Jake’s voice broke through the stillness, loud and completely unbothered.

You flinched, the spell breaking as you turned toward the sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel. Jake and the others were strolling toward you, their laughter cutting through the quiet.

Heeseung straightened quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, that’s too bad,” he murmured, his voice low enough just for you. “I thought we’d finally lost them.”

A quiet laugh escaped you, even as warmth lingered on your cheeks. “I didn’t know we were doing that.”

He shrugged, a glint of mischief in his eyes, so you swatted his chest lightly, the playfulness easing the tension.

Jake raised an eyebrow as he approached, his gaze flicking between you and Heeseung. “What, were you two having a moment or something?”

“Not even close,” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “What do you want?”

“Lori was asking if your mom baked a fruitcake this year,” he said, pointing toward your friend Lori.

You glanced at her, catching her expectant grin. “You know what,” you said, rising to your feet, “she did. You should grab some before it’s gone.”

Lori and the others cheered. Though your mom’s fruitcake wasn’t your favorite—too sweet for your taste—you still felt a swell of pride knowing it was the highlight of every Christmas. It was this pride that made you wanna bring them over, so with Jake leading your group, you headed back to your house, noisy and in high spirits.

Like opposite sides of magnets, you and Heeseung found each other again and fell behind the rest of the group. He leaned into your ear as he asked, “Are we gonna pick up where we left off?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Depends on how charming you are for the rest of the night.”

He held your gaze, his smile softening. “Challenge accepted.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you let the confidence he’d drawn out of you take hold. “You’ve been following me all night. You like me, don’t you?”

Heeseung didn’t even bother denying it. His smile widened, his voice steady as he replied, “Can you blame me?”

You chuckled. “Don’t fall for me, though. I’d hate to break your heart once the holidays are over,” you told him, grinning playfully before walking faster to rejoin your friends.

Heeseung stayed back for a moment, watching you. Too late, he thought. You really should’ve warned him sooner.

“If this was a uni party, someone would’ve spiked the eggnog already,” you mumbled, your eyes scanning the room filled with family, friends, and all the usual holiday chaos.

Heeseung’s voice was low beside you, cutting through the noise. “Really?”

You nodded, not looking at him. “Oh yeah. If you want to survive the night here, you have to make your own fun.” You shot him a side glance, half-smiling. “Otherwise, it’s just... this.”

For a brief moment, Heeseung said nothing, but you could feel him shifting beside you. Then, in a voice laced with amusement and mischief, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Alarmed, you grabbed his arm and yanked him back before he could get too far. “No, Heeseung!”

He turned toward you, his grin dangerous. “What?”

“No, seriously,” you whispered urgently, trying to keep your voice down. You scanned the room quickly, then pointed across it with dramatic flair. “Old people.”

Heeseung’s brow furrowed, clearly confused, so you leaned in just a little closer. “That’s my great-uncle,” you said, nodding toward an elderly man in a faded cardigan who was snoozing away in the rocking chair. “He’s 84 and can’t have alcohol. But he’s obsessed with eggnog. Let’s not ruin this for him.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, fighting back a laugh. “That’s not so Grinch of you.”

“I make exceptions for people I like,” you said, your voice dropping to a playful whisper.

His smile deepened, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is that so?” he asked, teasing but warm. “What exceptions have you made for me so far?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your smile from widening. “I’m not answering that.”

“So there is something, then?” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, as if the answer were hidden in your response.

“I’m not answering that either.” You chuckled, taking a step back with an exaggerated sigh. You started heading toward the patio, but Heeseung’s long strides quickly caught up, his footsteps just behind you.

The cold night air hit your skin as you stepped onto the patio, but the firepit’s warmth immediately enveloped you. Your friends and cousins gathered around, roasting marshmallows and swapping stories. You sat on the same bench as Heeseung, his presence adding warmth and comfort. You joined the conversations with the others, while occasionally having your own little talks with Heeseung.

The more you talked, the closer he leaned toward you, his eyes never quite leaving your face as if he were soaking in everything you said. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the heat of both the fire and his proximity.

As the night wore on, the laughter around the firepit thinned out, your companions dispersing one by one to retire for the night. Soon, it was just you, Heeseung, and Jake—both guys occupied with something on Jake’s phone. Left to your own devices, you scrolled aimlessly through social media, eventually landing on a friend’s Instagram story.

Yeonjun appeared in the group photo, looking happy and festive at what seemed like a rowdy party. You checked your inbox, hoping for a message, but he hadn’t even read the last one you’d sent. A sigh slipped from your lips louder than you intended, and Heeseung glanced up at you.

“You okay?” he asked quietly as you quickly turned your screen off. His cheeks were flushed, likely from the cold and the alcohol, and his eyes looked a little sleepy from the late hour. The sight of him brought a comforting warmth to your chest.

“I’m fine,” you mouthed, holding his hand that rested on your arm.

Suddenly, Jake shot up from his seat with a sharp exhale. “Let’s get out of here. I’m about to lose it with this Mariah Carey song they’ve got on repeat.”

“You go ahead. I’m gonna stick around for a bit,” Heeseung replied, squeezing your arm before rubbing his thumb against your jacket.

Jake noticed your joined hands and narrowed his eyes at the two of you. “You guys are getting cozy.”

“Are we?” you teased, glancing at Heeseung and shrugging. You leaned against his chest playfully and added, “I hardly noticed.”

Heeseung played along, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. Jake shook his head, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “If you’re gonna have sex, don’t do it in our room.”

The comment made you roll your eyes. “This is my house, Jake. We can do it in my bedroom!”

Jake didn’t respond, only raised a middle finger at you two before walking away. You laughed, watching him disappear into the house. But beside you, Heeseung had stopped grinning, his expression shifting to something more serious, his eyes wide with shock.

You raised an eyebrow. “What? I was just joking.”

Heeseung blinked a few times, looking away as he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” His voice was a little more strained, and you noticed a blush creeping up his neck.

You couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Did you think I was serious?” you asked, leaning in just a little closer.

Heeseung turned his head slightly, his eyes flickering toward you for a brief moment before he fixed his gaze on the fire. “Not at all,” he replied quickly.

“Oh? So you’re not interested?” you pressed, enjoying the sight of him flustered.

“I didn’t say that,” he responded too eagerly, too quickly.

The sudden shift in his tone caught you off guard. You hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully before you let out a soft laugh. “Okay,” you said, wanting to ease the tension. “I was just messing with you. Relax.”

Heeseung didn’t answer immediately, but you saw his posture stiffen, his hand slipping from your shoulder as he cleared his throat again. The air between you two felt thicker now, charged with something neither of you wanted to bring up.

You let the silence hang there for a few moments before turning to look at the house, your smile a little softer. “Anyway,” you muttered, standing up, “let’s get back inside.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything as he followed you, the air between you was thick with tension, but neither of you said much as you both walked toward the staircase leading up to the upper floors. It was past midnight. You had intended to hang out with him a bit more, but the night suddenly started to catch up with you after that awkward exchange with Heeseung.

It shouldn’t be a surprise. He clearly wanted you, at least based on how he’d been flirting with you all night and how you almost kissed at the playground earlier. And to be honest, you were entertaining the idea of a holiday fling with Heeseung. He was very attractive and he’d done nothing to raise any red flags so far. So why did the sudden sexual tension seem to make things awkward between you?

As you reached the hallway, you turned to him with a small smile. “Well, guess it’s time for me to call it a night,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual.

Heeseung nodded, but there was something in his expression that suggested he wasn’t ready to say goodnight just yet. “Yeah… sure,” he replied, his eyes focused on you.

You both stopped in front of your door and there was a silence that stretched longer than either of you anticipated. When you reached for the doorknob, Heeseung didn’t say anything, though you could see the dejected look in his eyes that he failed to mask with the smile he was wearing.

“See you in the morning?” you suggested, offering him something to look forward to despite the seemingly disappointing end to the night. “That is, if you’re still here by then,” you added, a low key attempt at asking what his plans were for tomorrow.

Heeseung smiled warmly. “I might have volunteered to be tomorrow’s Santa Claus, so I think I’d still be here.”

You chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Are you serious?”

“No,” he chimed with a playful grin, reaching for your hand and brushing his fingers lightly across your skin.

The touch was so small, yet it felt electric. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eyes locked with yours, holding a silent intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You found yourself leaning in, just a little bit closer, your breath shallow.

“Heeseung, I—” you began, only to cut yourself off because you didn’t really know what you were gonna say. Or if you should even say anything at all.

But then you both understood without words. Your nerves seemed to settle, and without another sound, Heeseung leaned in, his lips pressing gently against yours.

It was soft, almost questioning at first, but the moment it happened, everything else seemed to fade into the background. The lingering discomfort from the teasing, the unsaid words—everything disappeared. For that one exhilarating moment, there was nothing but the warmth of him against you.

When the kiss broke, you both stood there, breathless, eyes wide. You let out a nervous laugh, still trying to gather your thoughts. “That didn’t just happen,” you chuckled.

Heeseung’s gaze softened, his lips curling up into a small, almost sheepish smile. “Was that too fast?” he questioned playfully.

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. “Not really, but… let’s just pretend it didn’t happen,” you said, trying to play it cool, but your heart was still racing.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Good idea.”

You stood there for a whole minute, staring at each other in the quiet, with only the faint sound of Christmas carol from the living room filling the silence. “Good idea,” you echoed quietly, but your eyes were fixed on his lips, plump and inviting.

Before you knew it, you were kissing again, this time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, the kind that made your knees a little weak. His hands settled gently on your waist, making you hyper aware of the way your bodies are pressed against each other. For a moment, you let yourself forget about everything else—the holiday chaos, your family, Yeonjun.

When he pulled back slightly, his gaze was intense, searching yours. “You good?” he rasped, his breath warm against your face.

“Totally,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You kicked your bedroom door open, tugging him inside without breaking the kiss. In no time, you found your back pressed against the wall right by the door, Heeseung’s lips ravaging yours with a kiss that made you go feral.

When his hand slipped under your shirt, you held it tightly, debating whether to let him go there—caught between wanting to retreat and wanting to give in. As your hesitation stretched, Heeseung took it as his cue to pull away—not completely, just enough to press his forehead against yours and cup your cheeks

“Is that a ‘no’?” he whispered, his voice laced with playful warmth.

You chuckled, still a little drunk on his lips—on him. “Are you hurt?” you asked playfully, though your concern was sincere. “Your ego, I mean.”

“Hmm, not really,” he replied, shivering under your touch when your hand ran from his arm to his neck. “I’m more hurt somewhere else.”

That made you laugh and hit his chest playfully. Heeseung caught your hand, keeping it on his chest as he closed his eyes—forehead still pressed against, his breathing steady but deep, his lips lifted slightly in a faint smile.

You planted a soft kiss on his lips and took a small step back. “Aren’t you leaving?”

Heeseung clutched his chest, feigning a pained look. “Ouch. I’m getting kicked out too? This is torture.”

The sound of Christmas carols from the living room filtered through the door, a reminder of the world just outside, but neither of you seemed in a rush to leave. Heeseung looked around your dimly lit bedroom, studying the space as if familiarizing himself.

“I don’t want to push my luck,” he said, his voice low as he glanced back at you. “But this is much cozier than the guest room I’m sharing with Jake.”

You smirked, catching the insinuation in his statement. “It’s a no, Heeseung.”

Heeseung winced visibly. “Is that final?” he asked, making you chuckle.

“We only just met.”

He shrugged, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s fair. It was worth a shot, though.”

You had to admit, you considered it. Just the idea of being in Heeseung’s arms stirred something inside you. A feeling that, if you were being honest, you weren’t expecting to feel at all when you boarded the train home for the holidays. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the loneliness of the night creeping in, but right now, you felt more alive than you had in weeks.

Heeseung tilted your chin, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips once more. “Good night?”

“Good night,” you chimed, holding his hand against your cheek.

But he made no move to leave, he just stood there, staring at you as if it would physically pain him to look away. Then he leaned in for another kiss, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he teased, forehead pressing against yours.

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted, rolling your eyes playfully, though your smile was soft, just a little more sincere now.

The next morning, breakfast unfolded in a much quieter manner than last night’s festivities with everyone still half-asleep and quietly eating. Across the table, Heeseung seemed perfectly at ease, though you couldn’t ignore the occasional glance he sent your way—or how your gaze sometimes lingered on him longer than it should.

Your mom’s attention was on him, which was understandable since he was the only new face around the dining table. Your mom said she didn’t get the chance to properly get to know him because yesterday was hectic. Heeseung didn’t seem to mind, he was polite and spoke with courteousness and a charming demeanor.

“So, Heeseung,” your mom began to add as she reached for another piece of toast, her tone light but curious. “How do you know Jake?”

You smirked, glancing at your cousin. “Yeah. You seem too cool to be hanging out with this dork.”

Heeseung glanced at Jake, who was already sighing as if he knew what story Heeseung was going to tell. “We met during our first year,” Heeseung said, chuckling. “It was a… uh. Freshman prank.”

“Freshman prank?” your dad asked.

Heeseung hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a long story, but basically we fell victim to a freshman prank and ended up getting scolded by the college dean.”

“Oh my god! Jake said he was scolded by the dean for dancing around the school grounds in a bear costume. Was that it?” one of your cousins asked.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, his laugh a little sheepish. “It was actually the school mascot suit. They asked us to wear them at a freshman event for extra credit. Then we found out in the end that it was a faculty briefing, not a freshman event.”

Jake exhaled, exasperated by the memory. “ We even danced without knowing our mascot heads were switched. I was a lion with a bear head.”

Your mom laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, that’s one way to make a friend.”

“And now you’re stuck with him,” you teased, looking at Heeseung.

“Pretty much,” Heeseung agreed, his gaze flicking to you with a warm smile. “But hey, life’s never boring with Jake around.”

You smirked. “You’re too kind. Just say he’s an idiot. He doesn’t mind.”

Jake waved his fork in the air, scoffing at you. “Joke’s on you. Heeseung would never say that about me.”

Heeseung shrugged. “Well, he’s kind of… an idiot.”

Jake gasped. “What have you done to my friend?” he accused dramatically, pointing a finger at you.

The conversation soon shifted from playful banter to lighter topics as the meal wound down. You mostly stayed quiet, stealing occasional glances at Heeseung, who somehow managed to charm your family without even trying. When breakfast ended, your mom handed you a towel. “You’re on dish duty today,” she said with a kind smile.

Heeseung stood without hesitation. “I’ll help.”

“Very gallant of you,” your mom quipped, her tone amused as she watched you carry the dishes away.

When your family was out of earshot, Heeseung leaned in close, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Figured I’d earn some points.”

You chuckled, shaking your head but not protesting as he followed you into the kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves with ease, taking the stack of plates from your hands and grinning like this was second nature to him. The two of you fell into a quiet rhythm at the sink, you rinsing while he dried.

“So,” he began after a moment, breaking the silence with his usual casual tone. “Your mom’s cool. Super curious, though.”

You snorted. “That’s her way of being welcoming. Consider yourself officially part of the family.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Guess that means I have to stick around,” he added, bumping his elbow against your arm.

You rolled your eyes, recognizing the playful hint. “Only as Jake’s friend, though.”

“What do you know? She might upgrade me to Son-in-Law once she sees my dish-drying technique,” he quipped, his shoulder brushing yours as he reached for a dish and started wiping with exaggerated flourishes.

“Son-in-Law is a pretty big leap from Nephew’s College Friend.”

He grinned with mock confidence. “I’m Lee Heeseung. Anything’s possible.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Golden Boy.”

“You’ve got a pretty lively family,” Heeseung said after a pause, his tone softening. “They remind me of mine.”

“Oh, yeah?” You glanced at him, curious. “Big Christmas crowd?”

“Not as big as yours, but yeah. We do the whole chaos thing. My mom insists on playing charades after dinner, even though none of us can act to save our lives.”

You chuckled at the image, your hand brushing his as you passed him a plate. The touch lingered for half a second too long, enough to make your heart skip a beat. When you looked at him, Heeseung was already watching you, his voice dropping to something quieter as he leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“By the way, you look lovely this morning.”

The compliment hit harder than it should’ve, leaving you momentarily flustered. You managed to play it off with a teasing smile. “Trying to earn more points?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a grin, leaning just a fraction closer.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Just dry the dishes.”

Heeseung grinned, leaning slightly closer. “Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Just dry the dishes.”

His soft laughter warmed the kitchen, the hum of last night’s lingering tension sparking again between you. By the time you handed him the final dish, there were no more “accidental” brushes—Heeseung took your hand outright, pulling you gently forward to steal a quick, mischievous kiss.

You gasped, heat rushing to your face as you slapped his arm. “You sneaky little—”

Before you could finish, he leaned in again, catching you in another kiss, quick and light, as if testing the waters. Then he turned back to the towel like nothing had happened, leaving you standing there, your thoughts a flustered jumble.

Exhaling a mock exasperated sigh, you gave up on playing it cool. Closing the small gap between you, you slipped your arms around his waist, letting your cheek rest briefly against his shoulder as he put the last plate away.

“This is nice,” he murmured, discarding the towel and turning to face you. His arms wrapped around you naturally, pulling you close. “Makes us look like boyfriend and girlfriend, doesn’t it?”

You scoffed, stepping back slightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

But when you turned to leave, Heeseung caught your wrist, pulling you back into a tight embrace. “Where are you going? Stay.”

You hesitated for half a second, then melted into his hold, your hands settling lightly on his waist. “What are we even doing?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, resting his chin lightly against your hair. “But it’s nice.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It kinda is.”

The moment was broken by the faint sound of singing from the direction of the main door. Heeseung’s brows rose as he glanced toward the sound. “Carolers?”

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling away and jogging toward the door. Outside, a small group of children and teenagers stood assembled like a festive choir, their voices harmonizing in cheerful Christmas melodies. Your family was already out there, listening with smiles on their faces.

Jake noticed you standing beside him and leaned in. “Tell me why I can’t punch the carolers.”

You snorted. “Because it’s not their fault you didn’t pass the auditions.”

“Right,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, what? You auditioned for this?” Heeseung asked, his expression bewildered.

Jake smirked, unbothered by the attention. “I’m a man of many talents, my friend. They fumbled real bad when they decided to reject me.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, exasperated. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Christmas morning chaos, as always.

The rest of the day unfolded in a series of warm, chaotic moments. After the carolers left, your family gathered in the living room, eager to keep the festive spirit alive.

Someone—probably Jake—suggested a game of charades. It started out as a reluctant group activity but quickly spiraled into uncontrollable laughter as your aunt wildly flailed her arms trying to mimic Jaws, and your dad confused everyone by acting out Titanic with interpretive dance.

Heeseung fit right in, his easygoing personality making him an absolute hit. He was surprisingly good at charades, though you suspected he was just adept at playing to the crowd. When it was your turn to act, he leaned over to Jake and whispered something that had both of them laughing under their breath—probably a jab at your complete lack of acting skills. You shot them a mock glare, but it only made Heeseung grin wider.

When the game wound down, your mom announced it was time for gifts. You handed your parents the small, thoughtful presents you’d prepared—a new mug for your dad’s coffee addiction, and a scarf you’d crocheted for your mom.

“You shouldn’t have,” your mom said with a soft smile, wrapping the scarf around her neck immediately.

Others exchanged gifts, too, and to your surprise, a few came your way: a box of chocolates from your aunt, fuzzy socks from Jake, and a cute notebook from a younger cousin. You hadn’t expected anything from anyone other than your parents, so it warmed you more than you cared to admit.

Heeseung, meanwhile, didn’t seem fazed by the lack of a gift exchange between the two of you. Instead, as the wrapping paper chaos settled, he nudged your arm.

“Guess we forgot to plan this part, huh?” he quipped.

“Yeah, well,” you replied, shrugging, “we didn’t exactly have time for shopping.”

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, thoughtful. Then his face lit up with an idea. “How about we exchange something else?”

“Like what?” you asked, curious.

He reached for his phone, pulling up a playlist. “Music,” he said simply. “I’ll share a song I love, and you do the same. It’s like a tiny window into who we are.”

You hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Okay. You first.”

He scrolled through his playlist before handing you one of his airpods. The track was a mellow, soulful tune with heartfelt lyrics, and as it played, you found yourself surprised at how much it suited him—genuine, unpretentious, and warm.

“I like it,” you admitted, handing the phone back.

“Your turn,” he said, leaning closer as if to make sure he wouldn’t miss a beat.

You picked something a little more upbeat but with a nostalgic edge. The second it started, Heeseung grinned, nodding along to the rhythm. “Good choice. I can see why you like it.”

For the rest of the evening, the two of you exchanged little pieces of yourselves—stories, favorite movies, quirks. It wasn’t the traditional gift exchange, but it felt like something better, something that fit the budding connection between you.

Later, as the family gathered for a Christmas movie, Heeseung ended up beside you on the couch. The warmth of him sitting close felt comforting, and somewhere in the middle of Love Actually, his hand found yours under the blanket draped over your lap.

As the movie played on, you felt your phone buzzing on your lap. You picked it up in a heartbeat, a force of habit that made you feel a little pathetic. Letting out a sigh, you tucked your phone away, refusing to check what the notification was about—or who it was from.

Heeseung leaned closer, his voice low but curious. “Who is he?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“The guy,” he clarified. “The one who keeps making you wait for him.”

You chuckled nervously. “There is no guy.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. You sighed. “Fine. There is—was, actually. I think I’m done waiting for him.”

“Why is that?”

You tilted your head slightly, taking a very good look at the beautiful man before you. A smile crept across your lips. Why, he asked? It was because you met him—Lee Heeseung, who wanted you and made it clear. Heeseung, who gave you signals and acted on them. Heeseung, who not only spoke honestly about how much he liked you but also went out of his way to show it. Heeseung, who gave you more in two days than Yeonjun had in three months.

“You staring at me like that is making me wanna kiss you right now,” Heeseung said softly, cutting through your reverie.

You grinned. “Do it then.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips brushed yours, warm and soft, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Across from you, Jake grimaced, letting out an exaggerated groan. “Guys. Just get a room already.”

You pulled back, your cheeks warm with embarrassment. Heeseung didn’t seem fazed smirking as he laced his fingers with yours.

“Ignore him,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You giggled, the giddiness bubbling up. “He’s right, though,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “We should probably get a room.”

Heeseung’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Okay,” he said, as if it was the easiest decision in the world. “I’d never say no to that.”

Jake let out another theatrical groan from across the room, muttering something about needing bleach for his eyes. But neither of you paid him any attention as you shared a knowing glance, the warmth between you now impossible to ignore.

Laughter spilled from your lips as you and Heeseung slipped out of the living room to the quiet halls upstairs. The muffled sounds of the movie still playing below faded with every step. Heeseung stayed close, his hand brushing yours until he tugged you gently back and spun you to face him.

“Come here,” he murmured, stealing another kiss.

You giggled, pulling away just enough to tease him. “Have some restraint, will you?”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, his voice low and mischievous. “That’s too much to ask of me, you know?”

Your laughter filled the empty corridor as you took a step back, only for Heeseung to chase after you. His hands found your waist, pulling you close before kissing you again, slower this time, his lips lingering like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you reached your bedroom door, your cheeks ached from smiling, and your heart was racing. You kissed him there, leaning against the doorframe, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands rested firmly on your hips.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you both freeze. You pulled apart to see your old uncle shuffling past, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing as he continued down the hall.

Heeseung pressed his forehead against yours, biting back a laugh. “Think he’ll tell your mom?”

You snorted, pushing him lightly. “Does it matter? Bet everyone knows there’s something between us by now.”

“Touche.”

With a shared grin, you twisted the doorknob and pulled him inside. The door clicked shut behind you as you stumbled into the room, your lips finding his again in the quiet.

Gentle hands cradled your face as his lips moved against yours. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours with an intensity that made youre breath hitch. His touch trailed to your chin, guiding your head slightly as his lips pressed softly along your jaw.

You tilted your head instinctively, granting him access, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His kisses wandered down to your neck—soft brushes, playful nips, and teasingly light touches. Each one sent sparks skittering across your skin.

When his tongue flicked against the sensitive spot beneath your ear, you giggled, stepping back slightly. The sound was as much a reaction to the ticklish sensation as it was to the heat pooling low in your belly.

“Sorry,” he said, his warm laugh brushing against your skin. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, I like it,” you admitted, brushing your hair aside to bare your neck again. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

His fingers lightly traced the column of your neck. “Why not?”

“I’m… ticklish,” you said shyly, rolling your eyes to downplay your embarrassment.

Heeseung chuckled, sending butterflies racing in your stomach. His smile softened as he leaned in, teasing, “Noted.”

You sighed dramatically, unable to keep the playful glint out of your eyes. “Did we come up here just so you could tease me like this, or…?”

His eyes narrowed, his expression turning mock-exasperated. “Dude, why are you ruining the moment?” he asked, pulling you by the nape of your neck for another kiss. A deep one—heated, fervent, intoxicating, leaving you heady and utterly captivated.

Carefully, he lowered you down the bed, his lips not leaving yours. With one swift motion, he pulled your shirt off and tossed it aside, pausing to marvel at your body. You could see the desire in his eyes—clear and unadulterated.

“Well? Don’t just stand there and stare,” you whined cutely, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment but trying to keep your composure.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, crawling on the bed to kiss you again. “Can’t help it.”

His lips traveled the length of your neck and collarbone, nipping and sucking, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. With his mouth, he traced the line between your breasts, down to your stomach, until he reached your navel. Heeseung didn’t stop there. He undid your jeans and tugged it down before pressing his nose on your sex and taking a long sniff.

“Heeseung,” you whispered, the pressure from his nose making your body burn with anticipation.

He knew exactly what he was doing, pushing your underwear aside and licking a stripe at the pooling wetness between your legs. He continued with expertise, making you writhe and moan in ecstasy. You tried to close your legs when the stimulation became too much, but Heeseung’s grasp of your thighs was tight, prying your legs open so he could continue what he came to do. All you could do was whimper and grab a handful of his hair.

Your mind was screaming for him to stop, but your mouth could only utter his name as your hips bucked forward, eager for more.

Then he suddenly stopped, leaving you momentarily confused. He came back up, hovering over you with a proud smile on his face. You thought he was done but before you could utter a word, two of his fingers slipped into your cunt, making you gasp.

Heeseung didn’t say anything, he just grinned wider, seemingly proud of how good he was making you feel. His fingers slid in and out in a steady pace, growing more rapid and urgent the more he saw your face contorting with pleasure and euphoria.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, your back arching as you felt the familiar knot in your belly. “Don’t stop!”

And then came a euphoric wave engulfing your entire being. You froze for a moment, your mouth gaping open as you relished the momentary high that washed over you. Heeseung’s fingers were still inside you moving in small motions as he kissed your forehead.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he lilted before capturing your lips in a fervent kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you met his kiss with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Everything else faded, and before you knew it, the two of you were naked on the bed, moving together like it was the only thing that mattered.

The air was heavy with the sounds of your shared passion—your breathless moans, his deep groans, and the unmistakable sound of skin slamming against skin. Heeseung was a perfect fit, his every thrust reaching a depth that had you spiraling into an irrational desire for more. More, as though he hadn’t already completely consumed you.

Your fingers dug into his back, your grip tightening with every surge of pleasure. When he pinned your wrists above your head, your body arched instinctively, your hands grasping at the sheets as you gasped for him to keep going. When his teeth grazed the sensitive curve of your neck, your entire body lit up, every nerve alive with overwhelming pleasure. And when he murmured your name, his voice rough and breathless, it was enough to push you closer to the edge, leaving you lost in a desperate, dizzying need for him.

Heeseung was a vice. He unraveled you, body and mind, until nothing existed but the maddening ache of him and the desperate, spiraling desire to never let this moment end.

“Oh, Heeseung.”

“What do you want, baby?” he asked in a low, deep and raspy voice sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

“Harder, Hee. Please.” you cried out, not even caring to hide how needy you were.

“Shit,” he grunted, spurred on by the need in your voice. “You’re so...”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead, he kissed your lips and picked up his pace. Rocking with more force and intensity. Drilling deeper with every thrust. Fucking you senseless until you were crying out his name and begging him not to stop.

The knot in your core coiled tighter with every thrust, your body trembling beneath him as you clung to the last shreds of control. His movements grew more frantic, each one sending shockwaves through you that built higher and higher.

“Heeseung,” you gasped, your nails dragging down his back as the heat between you burned hotter. He groaned in response, low and guttural, the sound sending you further into overdrive.

When his mouth trailed down, teeth grazing your nipple just right, your world seemed to have shattered. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body arching into his as you cried out, completely undone. He followed moments later, a broken sound leaving his lips as he buried himself deeper, his own release spilling into you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both catching your breaths with your foreheads pressed together. The world slowly shifted into focus, the haze of what had happened between you lingered in the air as you found yourself coming back down from what had felt like an incomparable high. Soon though, the weight of his body pressing against yours made breathing slightly harder.

You gave him a gentle nudge, your voice soft. “Heeseung, you’re heavy.”

He grinned, rolling onto the bed beside you with a contented sigh. “Better?”

You nodded, meeting his gaze as he brushed a few stray hairs from your face. “You okay?” he asked, his tone quiet but sure.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “You?”

Heeseung’s smile widened. “Never better.”

Before you could think of something clever to say, he leaned in, his lips grazing yours in a way that made your heart flutter all over again. The two of you stayed like that for a while, stealing quiet, intimate moments in the privacy of your bedroom. Eventually, you both knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

When you finally slipped back into the hallway, your cheeks were still warm, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Heeseung stayed close, his shoulder brushing against yours as you rejoined your family in the living room.

For the rest of the day, his presence was a constant. Whether he was cracking jokes with Jake or leaning in to share a private comment that made you laugh, it felt like he’d completely settled into your orbit—and you didn’t mind.

It didn’t take long for everyone else in the house to notice your growing closeness with Heeseung. Your cousins teased you relentlessly, joking that Heeseung was the Christmas Miracle who made you shed your Grinch fur. Even your parents joined in.

“Had I known all it would take for you to stop grimacing every year on Christmas was a boyfriend,” your dad quipped, “I would’ve asked your mom to set you up on blind dates ages ago.”

“Ew, Dad. That’s so lame,” you replied with a grimace, though a pang of guilt flickered in your chest. For years, they’d put up with your reluctance to embrace the holiday spirit, and it hadn’t been fair to them.

Later, while Heeseung was off chatting with your cousins, your mom quietly pulled you aside. “I like him,” she said with a knowing smile. “He seems like a really sweet guy.”

“He is,” you admitted softly, hesitating. “But we don’t know much about each other. This is probably just… some temporary holiday fling.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well, sometimes those ‘temporary’ things surprise you. It’s just nice to see you happy.”

Her words replayed in your head, even as the evening unfolded into more teasing, laughter, and the occasional stolen glances between you and Heeseung. It felt effortless, the way he was seamlessly pulled into your family’s fold—laughing with your cousins, charming your parents, and somehow always finding his way back to your side.

At one point, as you leaned against the porch railing, your gaze wandering to the clear night sky, Heeseung appeared at your side. His hand brushed yours before his fingers slipped between them, the motion casual but deliberate.

“Wanna get out of here?” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.

“And go where?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“Anywhere,” he said with a crooked smile. “I just wanna be alone with you.”

You didn’t even have time to answer before Jake, lounging on the couch nearby, cut in with exaggerated indignation. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he sighed.

“But now that it is happening, I guess all I can say is fuck you guys and please get out of my sight,” Jake added, rolling his eyes. “You have no respect for the single loners hanging out with you, did you know that?”

You snickered. “This is why you bring your girlfriend home for the holidays, not a hot friend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Jake retorted, crossing his arms.

“And whose fault is that?” you teased with a grin.

Jake shot you a pointed look. “Don’t act so smug. You’ve been a Christmas Grinch for years. I’m not taking any advice from you.”

“Fair,” you admitted with a shrug, wanting so much to keep taunting him but deciding against it because he was right.

Your cousin cut in from across the room. “Jake, when did you say you were leaving again?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied.

“Already?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” he continued, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction. “We have a New Year event at uni. Heeseung’s needed for some important technical stuff. And me? Well, they need me for my invaluable presence.”

The chatter around you faded into the background as Heeseung tugged you closer. “You should come see it,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with intention.

You tilted your head, curious. “Is it fun?”

“I hope so,” he said with a small, crooked smile. “If it’s not, I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

You giggled when he kissed the side of your head. “How are you gonna do that?”

“Well, for starters…” He paused, whispering lower, “I’ll take you somewhere private and show you a really good time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Lame,” you quipped, pushing his face away.

Heeseung threw his head back laughing. “Okay. I’ll try to come up with something better.”

And just like that, the night became a blur of moments—each one filled with laughter, teasing, and kisses that were never fully explained, only given and received.

It happened again. And again. The gentle pull of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, the way he always found a way to stand just a little too close. By the time the night had fully settled into the late hours, the two of you were tangled up in your bedroom again, tipsy, comfortable, and perhaps a little too far gone to really care about the next morning.

The train ride back to the city was as mundane as ever, but there was a nice buzz in your nerves this time. You sat back comfortably, looking out the window at the snowy landscape that blurred past. The past few days felt like a dream, a Christmas full of laughter, teasing, and beautiful moments with Heeseung.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you from your thoughts.

Heeseung: See you Wednesday?

You smiled to yourself, the memories of the past few days flooding back—his easy laughter, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and the way his touch always seemed to leave a mark on your skin. It had all gone by so quickly, but in the best way possible. Everything had felt easy, comfortable, and natural in a way you hadn’t expected.

The holiday season had come to an end, but what you’d shared with Heeseung was just starting to unfold. There was something about it that felt like fate, or maybe just the simple truth that it was time for you to stop waiting for something that had no guarantee would ever happen.

You quickly typed your reply, your fingers moving almost instinctively.

You: Can’t wait.

When you hit send, you leaned back into the seat, letting the train’s motions settle the buzz in your busy mind. The thought of seeing him again made your heart clench in the most pleasant way.

You couldn’t wait for Wednesday. For fuck’s sake, you couldn’t wait for the New Year.

[fin]

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