#it took me so long to figure out how to word this

[rafesangelita]

♡ bitchy!pogue!reader brings a friend to tanneyhill..

warnings: sex work, threesome (m + f + f), face sitting, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, a little but of wlw

a/n: i’m really nervous about posting this fic in particular because it’s my first time writing smut with another woman so please give me some grace thank youuuu!

“how the fuck did you even discover this place?!” topper ran his hands through his hair, his jaw falling slack as his eyes danced around the room full of pretty girls prancing around in trashy lingerie and heels. ‘pink sugar’ was by far the most attended to strip joint on the cut— and it showed. as soon as any patron walked in, they were immediately hit with a whirlwind of cheap perfume, body glitter, and sparkly lipgloss. it was every man’s wet dream come true.. including rafe’s.

“life on figure eight gets stale after a while, bro. sometimes you just gotta expand a little bit, y’know?” topper nodded even though the words that rafe just said went in one ear and right out the other. the two of them took a seat in front of the main stage, a waitress wasting no time in getting their drink orders taken up to the front. while rafe had been here a handful of times, topper was like a kid in a candy store as he sat in awe.

meanwhile, you were getting ready in the locker room, both you and your best friend sticking rhinestones around each other’s eyes as you two waited to be called out by the dj for your turn to perform. “it better be a full house tonight.. i already have my eyes on these shoes, and there’s no way in hell i’m not getting them.” you cursed under your breath, running a pink comb through your hair to make sure everything looked perfect.

just as you adjusted the garter straps of your stockings, you heard your name being announced to the crowd outside. “good luck out there!” your bestie called out behind you, a giggle leaving your lips as you waved. even though you were more than familiar with the atmosphere already, you couldn’t help the thumping of your heart everytime you walked out from behind the curtains and felt the burning stares from the hungry men in the audience against your skin.

you smiled sweetly, the lights dimming just in time for you to lock eyes with two guys in the front. one looked laid back, his gaze raking down your figure as he drank from his glass, and the other looked like he couldn’t believe you were real. you knew right away he was a first timer by the way he leaned forward in his seat. pretending no one else was in the room, you started dancing, the floor already being littered with various dollar bills.

you tuned out the whistles and the hollering and focused on only the music, your set going by faster than you thought. with only one more song left on your list of requests, you stepped down from the stage, your hips swaying as you walked over to the two men you saw when you first came out. snaking your hands down the chest of the one with a buzz cut, you kneeled between his thighs before feeling him over his lap, his jaw clenching as he watched you intently.

rafe knew as soon as you looked up at him with something a little more than just lust in your eyes, he was going to have to take you away from here, your glossy lips shining underneath the neon lighting of the club. originally coming out to pre-game for the rager rafe was throwing tonight at tanneyhill, he figured he’d get the party going early with you looking so fucking pretty between his legs. he didn’t get to dwell on the sight for too long before you left him alone just as the song ended.

flashing him a wink, rafe watched you disappear backstage, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. blinking out of his trance, rafe told topper he would be right back with more drinks before making his way over to the bar. “excuse me,” rafe motioned the bartender over, “do you know how i can talk to the girl that was just on stage?” he asked. “y/n? she usually comes out and converses with the crowd when she’s done with a set, she’ll be out here soon.”

quickly ordering three rounds of shots, rafe made his way back over to his seat only to see you and a friend of yours already over there laughing at something topper was saying. “—oh, here he is now..” topper laughed nervously, taking the tray of shots out of rafe’s hands as you two shared a look. “you talking about me?” his voice alone gave you butterflies, his tall form making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

“don’t worry he didn’t say anything bad..” kitty, your best friend, teased. rafe looked over at her, his eyes wandering down her own sexy get-up. fixing his gaze back on you, rafe leaned down to whisper in your ear. “do you do personal parties?” he all but groaned once he smelled your sugary sweet skin, the sound shooting straight down to your panties. “personal parties?” you repeated, “it’s gonna cost you.” rafe scoffed, not worried about the money.

“give me a number.” he placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, pulling you close. you and kitty side glanced one another, a smile gracing your lips as your nails snaked around the buckle of his belt. “what kind of party?” you asked, making sure you were aware of what you were getting yourself into before agreeing to anything. “i’m throwing a house party tonight on figure eight, all of my friends are big spenders.. just putting that out there.”

you thought it over for a moment, a small part of you feeling intimidated since you weren’t familar with figure eight, nor did you know anyone that lived on that side of the island. “ten thousand, and i get to bring my friend over here.” you nodded towards kitty who was already sitting in topper’s lap. “perfect. do you need a second to get your things? i can take both of you straight over there.” you hummed at his words, silently signaling kitty to meet you in the back.

she excused herself from topper, both of you walking closely with each other to the locker rooms. “so what are we doing?” she was quick to touch up her makeup, changing out of her dancing shoes and into some platform heels. “that guy out there is willing to give me ten thousand to go to a party he’s having on figure eight, but if you come with me we’ll split it, plus he said his friends were ‘big spenders’, so that’s five thousand each excluding tips.”

without having to say another word, kitty was immediately on board, both of you squealing excitedly before grabbing your purses from your lockers. following the guys out of the club, you allowed rafe to open the passenger door for you, topper and kitty filing in the back before rafe started up his truck. he put on his music loud enough for you to feel the bass in your chest, a mix of excitement and anticipation swirling in your tummy.

you didn’t know what you were expecting to pull up to, but a mansion as huge as rafe’s definitely wasn’t on your list of possibilities. there was cars already filling the streets, people lining the gates of the house as rafe parked in the driveway, his arms wrapping around your waist as he helped you get down from the truck. you and kitty waited for him to start letting people in before leading both of you through the front door, topper following closely behind.

“i just need you two to cater towards my people, alright? these guys don’t know what a good time really looks like and i want y’all to be the ones to show them, ‘sound good?” just as he was going to send you and kitty off to the living room, you stopped him. “we need to get paid before we do anything.” rafe glanced between you and your bestie and nodded. “of course, why don’t you two follow me upstairs and we can get that out of the way?”

doing as you were told, you and kitty both looked around the house as he lead both of you to the master bedroom. “it’s in here.” he welcomed you two in, doing a quick sweep of the hallway before locking the door behind him. taking a seat on the huge bed, you and kitty watched as rafe took a metal briefcase out of his closet and entered a pin for it to unlock. looking up, rafe admired both of you as kitty ran her fingers through your hair, a smile adorning your lips as she did so.

both of you were so unremarkably gorgeous, it was hard for him to count money as you two giggled with each other. while fixing one of the rhinestones on kitty’s face, she was staring at the body glitter on your cleavage, running a finger over the sparkly dust. “are you trying to cop a feel?” you teased, moving your hand to rest on her thigh. rafe’s jaw clenched at the sight. “maybe..” kitty laughed, both of you leaning into each other as your hands wandered further up underneath her skirt.

rafe cleared his throat, both of you snapping out of whatever this was. “this is the money right here,” he held up the stacks of cash for you two to see, “however, both of you seemed to have piqued my interest..” glancing at each other confusingly, you and kitty waited for rafe to explain. walking over to the chair that sat in the corner of the room, he took a seat. “take each other’s clothes off.” at this, you felt your heart starting to beat in your ears.

sharing a look, you and kitty had the same nervous expression written all over your faces. “for ten more grand, can you beautiful ladies let me watch?” you had to refrain from letting your jaw drop to the floor, your stomach flipping at the new offer. kitty scooted closer to you, her hand shielding her mouth as she whispered in your ear. “what do you think?” blinking, you stole a glance at the full brief case that sat on the hardwood desk against the wall.

“i think he can do better than ten thousand dollars..” you whispered back, your faces just mere inches away from each other’s. “make it fifteen.” you looked over at rafe, shrugging off your coat to reveal your outfit from earlier. “how about twenty?” kitty swore you could hear her heart beating out of her chest. “tell him it’s a deal.” she whispered, getting up from her spot on his bed. “we’ll do it.” with his cock already stirring in his pants, he leaned back in his seat as you and kitty pressed a soft kiss to each other’s lips.

stepping out of your heels, you snaked your fingers behind kitty’s top, her hands resting on the globes of your ass as you untied the strings to her sequined bra. you and kitty have been best friends for as long as you can remember, you two literally started dancing at pink sugar together, there was nothing that you two hadn’t seen of each other already. “are you okay?” she spoke low so rafe couldn’t hear. humming softly, you kissed her again, allowing her to slip off the lace material of your underwear.

rafe swallowed thickly, his eyes traveling over your naked figure. despite there being two of you, he found himself zeroed in on only yourself, your stare holding his as kitty kissed down your neck. “should we include him?” you whispered against her skin, running your palms down her side. “you like him, don’t you?” she giggled. you blinked slowly, refraining from smiling as you hummed quietly. “go get him.” rafe shifted his weight in his chair as you walked over, carefully straddling his lap.

“me and kitty want to share you..” you ran your hands over his chest before undoing the buttons of his shirt, the sight of his toned stomach encouraging you to do away with his belt next. rafe watched you as you palmed him through his pants, his tongue poking out to run over his bottom lip. taking his hand in yours, you helped him stand up on his feet before getting him out of his clothes and leading him to where you and kitty were.

laying him down, rafe looked at the two of you as each of you kneeled on either sides of him. “tell us what you want us to do.” kitty stroked his inner thigh while you took his cock in your hand, a strangled groan rumbling from his chest at your touch. his chest rose and fell while he took a moment to think. “i want kitty on my face and you on my cock.” he looked at you with hooded eyes, your head moving in kitty’s direction. “whatever you want, handsome.”

you and your best friend held hands as if to hold onto each other for leverage, her mouth falling open as rafe skillfully circled her entrance with his tongue, her hips moving smoothly so the tip of his nose was nudging her clit with every stroke. you on the other hand, could barely keep up with his thrusts as he stuffed you full, your moans bouncing off of his bedroom walls. “fuck, he feels so good.” you whimpered, nearly doubling over as he started thrusting from underneath you even harder.

kitty’s head hung low in defeat as she rode rafe’s face, her thighs trembling around his head as he licked and sucked at her soaked cunt. you clenched around him, squeezing him tightly as he groaned in response. kitty was speechless at the whole ordeal, her eyes rolling far back into her head as rafe held onto her thighs so she couldn’t get away from him. “oh, god—!” kitty gasped, her chest rising and falling as rafe pushed her over the edge, her hands dropping from yours in order to dig her nails into his skin.

rafe cursed when he felt the stinging sensation, your hips still moving as he loosened his grip on kitty’s thighs. he kept up his ministrations until your best friend got off of him with a squeal, overstimulation setting in as she laid next to him still going through the aftershocks of her orgasm. rafe licked his lips clean, wasting no time in sitting up against his headboard, his hands grabbing onto the globes of your ass so he could bounce you on top of him.

you buried your face in his chest, the scent of his cologne only adding to your cock drunk state. “you’re so fucking tight, holy shit—” he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth, your clit meeting his pubic bone as kitty took a seat behind you, her hands coming around to cup your tits as she moved your hair to one side of your shoulders to expose your neck. holding your head up, you shuddered when you felt her lips on your skin, her teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there.

you were a mess by the time rafe’s hips started bucking, kitty’s lips finding yours as you came with a cry, his moans echoing in your ears as he pulled you against his chest. you clenched around him as he came inside of you, his cum painting your insides as he panted. letting out a sigh, rafe thumbed your chin, both of you sharing a heated kiss before kitty got up and helped you slide off of him. “you okay?” she asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “yes, are you?” kitty nodded, both of you slipping back on your clothes.

rafe watched as you two cleaned yourselves up, his hand motioning towards the money. “it’s all there..” he trailed off, “kitty you think i can get a word alone with y/n here?” grabbing her stack, she nodded before going into the bathroom, leaving you and rafe alone together. “i want you to come back tomorrow, ‘spend the weekend with me.” you bit your lip, glancing over at the bathroom door. “i don’t know if kitty will be busy—”

“no, just you,” he cut you off, “i want you by yourself.”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[dissimul0]

SAY IT

remmick x fem!reader

Summary: On your way home from Bible study you run into two boys looking for trouble. Thankfully, Remmick's there to help you out. But he wants some... compensation, for his help.

wc: 4.1k

smut warning: dom!remmick x fem!reader. second-person pov, fingering, manipulation, blood, biting, violence, death, oral (fem receiving), mentions of religion, mild harassment, idk i think thats it

a/n:  before watching sinners i hadn't written anything in MONTHS, and remmick was so incredible fine he cured me of writers block, because after the movie i went home and started writing this. this is also my first time posting on tumbler so, hiii (ignore how the tense doesn't stay consistent, i hate writing in 2nd person pov)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

The sun was swiftly sinking beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape. Its vibrant hues of orange and pink painted the sky, gradually deepening into richer tones as the evening approached. The light dimmed as shades of deep blue and indigo crept across the horizon, enveloping the landscape in a cloak of darkness.

You were heading home from Bible study, which ended much later than you had anticipated. The air was thick with the oppressive summer humidity, one of those evenings where the heat lingered even after the sun had set. As you distanced yourself from the busy part of town, the streetlights became sparser, and the shadows deepened. You hastened your pace, your heels tapping against the rough pavement, eager to reach home.

It was almost kind of peaceful. The nighttime chatter from the town gradually faded into soft murmurs, creating an almost soothing atmosphere. Until, of course, a couple of idiots had to ruin your night.

Two figures stepped out from a dark alley up ahead — and you barely had time to react before they were already blocking your path, grinning like they owned the damn street.

“All by yourself, baby cakes? Ain’t that dress a lil’ short for that?” One of them whistled, licking his teeth all nasty.

You took a step back, holding your Bible tightly against your chest as if it were a shield. “I-I don’t want any trouble,” you stammered.

“Naw, of course you do,” the other sneered, taking a step closer to you. “You over here dressed like trouble.”

Your eyes flickered anxiously as the two boys edged nearer, their strides slow yet certain, their intent unmistakable. You took a step back, and another, feeling the space around you shrink, the world closing in as they advanced without a word. They spread apart slightly, moving to encircle you like wolves to prey.

God, help me.

A voice sliced through the tension like a blade through fog. “There a problem here?”

It came from behind you, sharp and unexpected, shocking the air with its presence and freezing the moment like a flash of lightning. The two boys stopped, surprise flickering across their faces as they cut their eyes in the direction of the sound. You turned, eyes meeting a man standing a few feet behind you.

His hands, nonchalantly tucked into the deep pockets of his trousers, accentuated an air of indifference perfectly matched by his carelessly practical attire. The rumpled shirt, slightly untucked, and the well-worn shoes suggested a disregard for convention. He didn’t seem like he belonged, not in the slightest.

There was something about him, an intangible aura, that sent a shiver of unease through the air. It was as if he carried an invisible weight that pressed heavily on those around him, making them shift uncomfortably without knowing precisely why.

“Who the hell are you?” One of the boys called out, his voice a wavering mixture of uncertainty and defiance. The other shifted awkwardly, unsure of how to size up the strange figure before them, and more unsure of what reaction to expect.

“Why don’t you answer my question first?”

You glanced between your harassers, the adrenaline that had spiked through your veins at the sight of those two creeps faded, replaced by a different sort of tension. Your throat went dry. You wanted to say something, to stop this and just finish your journey home, but you just couldn’t.

When you locked eyes with the unfamiliar man, your stomach twisted in knots. There was something about him—someone familiar but unplaceable—that set off your instincts, urging you to flee.

One of the creeps let out a laugh, a high-pitched, mean-spirited cackle, his mocking grin wide with menace and delight. It was like you were long forgotten, their attention now elsewhere. They crowded around the man, jostling shoulders and nudging elbows, and one of them spat the words like a challenge: “Little white boy thinks he’s got spunk!”

The man’s eyes shifted from the boys to you, slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. “Now, now. I just wanted to make sure this young lady was alright,” he said, his eyes glinting with a steely resolve that cut through the tension like a knife.

The boys didn’t quit though, repeating their threats like taunts, brutal little chants in the fading light. They surrounded him, shirts loose, untucked, grins mean and prowling the way packs do.

The strange man didn’t seem to be intimidated; In fact, he looked past the boys, giving you an almost…sympathetic look. “You might want to close your eyes, darlin’.”

In a flash, he lunged at the nearest boy, a blur of movement disrupting the circle. The act was savage and swift, his teeth sinking into his soft neck with a feral intensity. There was a stunned silence, a moment where the world seemed to hold its breath, and then a scream. The boy screamed, high-pitched and frantic, red blooming on his white collar, voice shredding the dusk as he stumbled back.

Blood, hot and streaked, spilled down the boy’s chest as the man held him tight, his face smeared. Frozen by the violence seared through the darkening street, the other boys’ eyes went wide, his shouts dying in his throat. 

The grip seemed relentless, inhumanly strong, the boy’s knees buckling, and then, with a quick flick of his arm, the man sent him crashing to the pavement. The boy writhed, clutching at his neck with a gurgling sob, while the other could only stare in mute horror. It was as if the man enjoyed their terror, a gleam in his eye as he turned his ferocious gaze on him, daring him to fight or flee, hungry for his next move.

The second boy stood frozen, his face a mask of horror as he watched his friend collapse to the ground. For a heartbeat, he seemed paralyzed, caught between flight and fight, his body trembling with indecision. Then, with a strangled cry that was half rage and half terror, he fumbled at his waistband and pulled out a small pocket knife, the blade catching the dim light as it snapped open.

"You—you fuckin’ psycho!" he screamed, his voice cracking with fear. He lunged forward with the knife held out, a clumsy, desperate attack born of panic rather than skill.

The strange man sidestepped the thrust with almost lazy grace, a small smile playing at his bloodstained lips. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the boy's wrist and twisted. The crack of bone was audible even over the boy's shriek of pain, the knife clattering uselessly to the pavement.

"Bad choice," the man whispered, his voice almost gentle as he pulled the struggling boy closer, like a lover drawing in for an embrace. "Should've run when you had the chance."

The boy's struggles grew frantic, his feet scrabbling against the ground as he tried to wrench himself free. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat of exertion and fear. "Please," he sobbed, all bravado gone, "please don't—"

His plea was cut short as the man's teeth found his throat.

You couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Your lungs seized as if gripped by an invisible hand, the Bible slipping from your fingers and hitting the pavement with a dull thud that seemed impossibly distant. The world narrowed to pinpricks of horrific detail: the blood spray painting the concrete, the wet, tearing sounds as flesh gave way, the gurgling screams that didn't sound human anymore.

Your knees buckled. A wave of nausea crashed through you, bitter bile rising in your throat as you pressed your hand against your mouth. The taste of your dinner threatened to return as your stomach convulsed. The edges of your vision darkened, tiny black spots dancing like static.

"Oh, God," you whispered, the words barely audible even to yourself. Your body trembled violently, uncontrollably, like you were standing in Arctic winds rather than the summer night's heat. The scene before you refused to make sense—it couldn't be real, couldn't be happening. People didn't do this. People couldn't do this.

But he wasn't people, was he?

You stumbled backward, one foot catching on the other, nearly sending you sprawling. The movement seemed to happen in slow motion, disconnected from your will. Your chest heaved with shallow, rapid breaths that didn't seem to deliver any oxygen to your brain. The metallic smell of blood hung thick in the air, coating your tongue, inescapable.

Somewhere in the fog of your shock, a primal instinct screamed at you to run, but your limbs felt leaden, unresponsive, as if the horror had severed the connection between your mind and body.

The second boy's body crumpled to the ground with a sickening finality, joining his friend in a spreading pool of crimson. The stranger straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a dark smear across his pale skin. His eyes found yours, and the world seemed to contract to just the two of you standing in the night.

"Yer still here," he remarked, sounding almost surprised. His voice was different now—smoother, more controlled, the earlier tension gone from it. Blood dripped from his chin onto his shirt, blooming like dark flowers against the fabric. His eyes held an unnatural red gleam in the dim light.

Your legs finally remembered how to work. You stumbled backward, nearly tripping over your own feet, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The Bible lay forgotten on the ground between you and the carnage. "Demon," you whispered, the word tasting like ash in your mouth

He laughed, the sound startlingly normal, almost pleasant. “You go on home now.”

You remained frozen, disbelieving of your apparent reprieve.

"Go," he repeated, more firmly this time. "’Fore I change my mind."

Your legs moved of their own accord, carrying you past him in a wide arc. You couldn't help but look at the bodies as you passed, their forms already seeming less human somehow, more like discarded dolls than the threatening figures they'd been minutes ago. You ran, your footsteps echoing in the empty street, not daring to look back again. The night air burned in your lungs, and tears streamed down your face, but you didn't dare look back.

You just kept running. 

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

 You couldn't sleep that night.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw it all again—the blood, the strength, the way his teeth tore into flesh like it was nothing. Sleep was impossible. You sat on the edge of your bed, trembling hands clutching a mug of tea that had long gone cold, staring at nothing.

The day after felt like hell on earth. The morning light was harsh and unyielding, striking too brightly through the windowpane, but you made no move to get up to close the curtain.

You were too tired, too... worn out. Your legs felt like jelly and your eyes were swollen from crying, and there was a pain in your chest, an ache so deep you could have been bleeding, if only it meant relief.

But you were just numb.

You didn't even go down for breakfast. Just layed in bed. You laid there until the insistent throb of hunger became too much to bear. Only then did you involuntarily get yourself out of bed, muscles aching.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the aroma of breakfast lingered in the air, and your eyes landed on the remnants of the morning meal scattered across the table.

"Thought you'd never come down," Mom remarked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement as she looked over her shoulder from her spot at the sink, hands submerged in soapy water.

"Guess I was pretty tired," you replied, a yawn stretching your lips as you slumped into a chair, reaching for a piece of cold sausage. The temperature was irrelevant; it was the savory flavor of the meat that captivated your senses, grounding you in the moment.

"Where's your Bible?" Mom's voice cut through your thoughts like a knife, her eyebrow arched in that familiar, questioning manner. Her hand poised on her hip, she awaited your explanation with a knowing look.

Your chewing halted, heart sinking as last night's events replayed vividly in your mind. You opened your mouth to respond, but words seemed to falter and die before they could form.

Mom clicked her tongue disapprovingly, disappearing into the living room, only to return moments later. She placed your Bible on the table with a gentle thud, the sound echoing in your ears as your heart plummeted further, eyes reluctantly meeting hers.

"W-where'd you find this?" you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

"Found it on the front porch. You must've dropped it on your way in last night," she replied, her tone a blend of concern and reprimand.

You swallowed hard, the events of last night swirling like a storm in your mind. You hadn't dropped it on the porch; you had left it behind, abandoning it on the ground as you ran, thoughts in chaos. "I guess... I must've," you stammered, forcing the guilty lie out.

"Mmhm. You best be more careful next time. You know this Bible was a gift from the Pastor," she reminded gently, yet firmly, turning back to the sink, the sound of running water a soft backdrop to the tension in the room.

You acknowledged your mother's words with a quiet hum and a nod. Your eyes settled on the Bible lying on the table, and you reached out for it with hesitation.

As your fingers traced over the embossed letters, your mind wandered back to the previous night. The vivid nightmares nearly made you recoil. You closed your eyes tightly, giving your head a slight shake to dispel the dark thoughts.

—————————————————

The day rolled on, hours slipping by in a confused haze. Tasks that needed doing bled into others, all mundane, all repetitively the same. Towels to fold, clutter to corral—each chore like the next, stretching out endlessly. Words were exchanged, hollow, drifting and weightless in the air.

The day felt longer than it had any right to be, its passage still haunting, leaving only a weary fog. A great heaviness set in, like a weight on the eyelids, as evening wore on.

While everyone else slept, you're wide awake. Sitting on your bed's edge, you face the window. The pale, blue moonlight casts its glow on you as you sit there, gazing out at the front yard.

You're unable to tear your eyes away, as if something or someone might be out there. You rise from the bed, cautiously approaching the window. With a finger, you unlock the latch and lift the window, which opens with a slight creak.

Leaning on the windowsill, you peer outside, eyes fixed intently for any sign of movement. But nothing unusual occurs; only the breeze and the rustling trees accompany your breathing.

This is pointless.

You pull away from the window frame and turn to head back to bed, but a snapping branch halts you. Slowly, you turn back, step toward the window, and shut it with frustration.

Resting your head against the cool glass, you close your eyes, feeling its chill against your skin.

After a moment, you reopen your eyes and gaze into the yard once more.

Tiny pinpoints of light flicker among the trees, and you squint, searching the darkness. Still cloaked in the forest's shadows, the two points of light draw nearer, stopping just a few feet from your window. You blink, and the lights blink back.

Your heart hammers against your ribs as those twin points of light remain fixed on your window. They're eyes—you know they're eyes—glowing with an unnatural red luminescence that no human could possess.

Slowly, a figure detaches itself from the darkness. He steps forward, moonlight gradually revealing him inch by inch: first the outline of broad shoulders, then the familiar rumpled shirt, now stained dark with what you know is blood. His face comes into view last, pale and beautiful in its terrible way, those glowing eyes fixed unblinkingly on yours.

It's him. The man from the street. The monster who tore out those boys' throats with inhuman strength and savage teeth.

He stands perfectly still at the edge of your yard, hands in his pockets just as they had been before, casual as if he were merely a neighbor stopping by. But there's nothing casual about the intensity of his gaze, the way it pins you in place even through the glass and distance between you.

A small, knowing smile curves his lips, and he raises one hand in a gesture that might almost be friendly—a little wave, as if acknowledging an old acquaintance. The simple humanity of the gesture makes it all the more chilling.

You want to scream, to call for help, to wake the household—but your voice is trapped in your throat. Besides, what would you say? Who would believe you? And what if your cries only invited him in?

He takes a single step forward, then another, moving with deliberate slowness toward your window. Each footfall is silent on the grass, predatory grace in every movement. The distance between you shrinks with each passing second.

He doesn't stop until he's merely inches from your window, eyes boring into yours. Your breath hitches, and you try to step back, but you can't. It's like you're frozen.

His breath fogs the glass between you, a reminder of the thin barrier separating you from whatever he is. He raises one pale finger and traces a pattern on the window, the squeak of skin against glass making your skin crawl.

"Y'know," he says, voice muffled but still audible through the glass, "there are rules to these things."

You remain frozen, unable to speak, but he continues as if you'd asked a question.

"I cain't come in uninvited." His eyes—those terrible, beautiful eyes—crinkle slightly at the corners, almost amused. "Old magic. Very inconvenient."

He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching the glass. "But you could invite me in. Just a few 'lil words. 'Come in.' That's all it'd take."

Your throat constricts with fear, but you manage to shake your head slightly.

He sighs, a surprisingly human sound. "I saved you. Those boys—" he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, "—they had very specific plans fer you. Nasty ones." His voice drops lower, more intimate. "I could've let 'em. Would've been much easier fer me."

The memory of those boys blocking your path flashes in your mind, their leering faces, their threatening postures. You shudder.

"See? Y'know I'm right." His finger traces another pattern on the glass, almost hypnotic. "Just a little invitation. A thank you for my... intervention. That's only polite, ain't it?"

Something in his tone shifts, grows harder. "Or I could wait. I'm a very patient man, sugar. I could visit every night, watchin' you. Waitin' for that moment when you step outside alone after dark, or when you get home late from bible study." His smile widens, revealing teeth that are too sharp, too white. "Wouldn't it be better to just... get it over with? On yer terms?"

You feel a strange pull, a desire to reach for the latch, to open the window wider and speak those fatal words. Your hand even twitches at your side, as if it might move of its own accord.

"Just say it," he whispers, eyes boring into yours. "Invite me in."

Your fingers tremble against your thigh, caught in a war between reaching for the window latch and clenching into a fist. Something shameful and electric pulses through you—a feeling you don't want to name.

There's terror, yes—raw and primal—but beneath it lies something more disturbing. A fascination. A pull. Your eyes can't help but trace the sharp angles of his face, the fullness of his lips now clean of blood, the way his shirt clings to the contours of his body.

"This ain't right," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

His smile deepens, knowing. "Few worthwhile things are."

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you hate yourself for it. How could your body betray you like this? How could you feel anything but revulsion for the creature who tore out human throats before your eyes? The memory of violence should repulse you, drive you away—instead, it mingles with his current gentleness in a cocktail of confusion that makes your head swim.

You close your eyes, trying to block him out, but that only intensifies your awareness of him—his scent somehow reaching you through the glass, something ancient and dangerous. When you open your eyes again, he's watching you with a patience that spans centuries.

"Yer afraid," he says softly. "But not only afraid."

Your cheeks burn hotter. He sees through you so easily, this predator at your window. The worst part is the thrill that runs through you at being so thoroughly seen.

"I don't want this," you say, voice barely audible.

"Ohhh sure you do, darlin." His head tilts slightly, curious. "Your heart says otherwise. I can hear it—racing not just with fear, but with somethin' else."

You press your hand against your chest, as if you could quiet the betraying organ. "You're a monster."

"Yes," he agrees simply. "And yet, here you are. Still lookin'. Still listenin'."

He's right, and you hate that he's right. You should be running, screaming, praying—anything but this strange, suspended moment where you can't tear yourself away from his gaze. "You know I can't..."

He takes a deep breath, clicking his tongue in thought. "Yer really gonna make me beg for it, huh?" He said, his voice dropping to a conspiring whisper. "I can make you feel so good, lampkin. You just gots to let me in."

"I won't."

"You will."

Your hand trembles as it hovers near the window latch. One simple motion, one whispered invitation, and he would be inside. The thought sends shivers of fear and anticipation down your spine.

"What would happen?" you ask, your voice barely audible. "If I let you in..."

His eyes gleam in the darkness. "Aw, don't be coy, now." He continued, his voice low, "Aincha tired? Of playin' the good girl?"

"I ain't playin."

"Then let me inside."

Your jaw clenched, and you pressed your lips together, like if you opened them, you wouldn't know what would come out. But, God, you wanted to. You wanted to just say that one word to let him in and receive all the pleasure and indulgence he was promising. But your silence hung loud. You were afraid.

And you could tell he knew it too.

His hands tightened perilously around the frame of the window, a cage of fingers desperate to pull you in while keeping him locked out. The tendons in his wrists flexed like claws. His breath caught, a raw rasp in the air. When he spoke, his voice was shredded with wanting: "Open this window. And. Let. Me. In."

His words dissolved the fragile armor you had tried to build against him, slipping silently into your gut like a seduction turned weapon. It was over; you knew it then. A warning shrieked from the rational recesses of your mind—run, hide. Yet something deeper, something primal and inexplicable, whispers that perhaps death isn't the worst fate imaginable.

You shuddered beneath the weight of your own surrender, and a tiny gasp escaped your lips. "Come in," you finally caved, voice barely even audible. With a trembling hand, you reached for the latch and started to open the window for him.

He climbed through the window almost as soon as you opened it, his movements quick and jerky. One moment he was outside, the next he stood before you, close enough that you could feel the unnatural coolness radiating from his skin.

His eyes never left yours, that unblinking gaze holding you captive. The red glow had dimmed somewhat, but still flickered in their depths. His lips curled into a satisfied smile, revealing just the barest hint of those terrible teeth.

"There now," he murmured, his voice somehow more intimate, more dangerous in the confined space of your bedroom. "Was that so hard?"

The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity as he took a single step closer. You instinctively backed away, your calves hitting the edge of your bed, but there was nowhere left to retreat. He raised his hand slowly, deliberately, giving you every chance to flinch away—but you remained frozen, caught between terror and that inexplicable, shameful fascination.

His fingertips brushed your cheek with unexpected gentleness, cool against your feverish skin. The contact was feather-light, almost reverent, yet it sent a jolt through your entire body as if you'd been struck by lightning. Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes fluttered closed for just a moment, your body betraying you once again.

"So warm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "I'd almost forgot what it feels like."

His touch traveled downward, fingers trailing along the column of your throat where your pulse hammered wildly against your skin. He paused there, feeling the rhythm of your fear and anticipation beneath his fingertips, a small smile playing at his lips.

Then his mouth was on yours, crushing, demanding. His body crowded yours, a solid wall of desperate need, pinning you against the momentum. Tongues tangled, a frantic, messy collision – less kiss, more claiming. He tasted your surprise, the faint saltiness, a familiar sweetness underneath. He pushed harder, fueled by years of starvation, a blind drive to consume. The world tilted. Balance lost. You went down in a tangle of limbs, hitting the floor with a muffled thud.

SMUT WARNING!!

He landed mostly on top, the impact insignificant. Air sawed in and out of his lungs. Below him, you. Your eyes wide, lips swollen, glistening with saliva – his saliva. The sight sent a jolt straight to his groin, his trousers suddenly, painfully tight. A trace of drool beaded at the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin.

You gazed up at him, eyes shimmering with pent-up desire, chest heaving with each rapid, anticipation-filled breath. "You're droolin'," you ogled.

He smiled.

"It ain't my fault you taste so good." He crawled over your body and caged it under his with his pelvis slotted between your thighs, "I want you to beg for it. Beg for me." Between layers of your nightshirt and his trousers, his cock ground into your mound while his clawed hand slid along the warm skin of your thigh. Your nightshirt rode up, until he reached your hip where the fabric of it bunched, its soft flesh dimpling in his bruising grasp.

"Say it," He crooned into your neck, breathing in your scent, his red eyes dilating beneath eyelids that fluttered closed. "Say, 'Remmick, please give me what I need.'"

Remmick. That was his name?

You let out a whimper, quickly biting down hard on your lower lip in a desperate attempt to muffle the wanton sound. "P-please... Remmick," You begged, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

A sinister laugh rumbled through Remmick, the sound dark and gravelly as it shook against your chest. "Atta-girl," he growled, nipping sharply at your earlobe. His hand, clutching your hip, slipped between your thighs, where he discovered you were bare under your nightshirt, and he hummed delightfully. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder as a groan rumbled deep in his chest when he found you wet and swollen, teeth grazing the skin on your collarbone.

The tip of Remmicks nose skated along your sweat-slick neck until his lips found your ear and brushed against the shell of it as he spoke. "Yer soaked." He whispered, fingers finding your clit and circling it with torturing slowness, rolling the slick bud beneath the pad of his fingers.

You gasped, back instinctively arching on the floor as you craved more of that sweet friction. "S-stop teasin' me," you whined

"Why? Did you need somethin'?" He taunts. You want to snap at him to go faster, but getting irritated would only delay it more. "Use yer words, sugar." He sank his middle and ring fingers inside you, grinning devilishly against your neck, before delivering a sharp bite.

You let out a strangled moan, turning your head to the side to try to escape Remmick's' sharp teeth and scorching breath. "What do you need?" He asked, words muffled as they sawed between his teeth and your flesh. He curled his fingers into the bundle of nerves at the front of your walls. "Say it."

You clenched your thighs together, trying to trap his invading fingers, but the slick heat of you only allowed them to sink deeper. "I need you," you writhed, unable to keep still.

Remmick's fingers never ceased their brutal pumping, plunging in and out of your soaked, clutching heat. As he worked he watched you struggle, your nails digging into the wood floors. For a few minutes there's nothing but the obscene sound of your arousal, mingling with the creaking of the wood floors and your increasingly ragged breaths.

Your spine twisted into knots at the bottom of your back, hips bucking to meet the angle of fingers. The muscles in your stomach clenched, and your head lolled back, eyes closed, unshameful moans of pleasure quietly resonating through the room. Just when you felt the consistent building of your orgasm about to release, insides twitching around his fingers, he withdrew them, lifting his head up just enough to meet your gaze.

Looking up at him in confusion, your eyes followed his fingers as he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a predatory hum. He removed them with a wet pop, grinning wildly as he saw your lips part in protest.

"What? You want'a taste?" He teased, saliva-soaked fingers glinting in the dark light. He brought his hand close to your mouth, stopping when the pads of his fingers grazed over your lips. "Open wide."

The tips of his fingers pushed past your lips, and your mouth parted farther, making space for his digits to wedge further inside. He leaned in lips brushing against your temple and he buried his nose in your hair and breathed. He groaned, fingers pushing deeper into your mouth. You choked quietly, but that didn't stop him. He watched as you struggled to take his fingers, your lips around him.

His cock throbbed at seeing you like this. Quivering and needy. It was almost enough to make him come right then and there.

Remmick slowly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, smearing the spit across your lips.

He captured your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his smoldering red eyes as he loomed over you. His own gaze was dark with lust and a twisted sort of affection, his pupils blown wide and dilating as he looked at you, drinking in every expression and breath.

HIs other hand slid up from your hip, claws raking lightly over the soft skin of your belly before cupping the swell of your breast. He could feel your heart pounding beneath his palm, could feel the way your nipple pebbled against the thin fabric of her nightshirt. He tweaked the sensitive nub between his fingers, rolling and pinching it until you gasped, back arching off the floor.

"It feels good, don't it?" He murmured, his breath hot against your neck. His lips found yours, claiming your mouth in a demanding kiss. His tongue pushed past your teeth, invading, conquering, laying waste to any resistance you might have left.

He could feel you melting, could feel the fight draining out of you as he touched you, kissed you, filled you.

He broke the kiss, leaving you gasping and panting beneath him. "Now," he said softly, almost gently. "I'm gon make you feel real good."

He positions his arms on either side of you, and lowers his mouth onto your neck. The sudden feeling of his lips made you whimper, and he chased after the sound, trailing down your throat towards your chest... down your stomach... down your thighs.

As he pulled closer to your heat, you couldn't help but squirm under him. He gripped your thighs and lifted them off the floor, getting on his knees and lowering his head between your thighs. He slowly made his way upwards, breath hot against your skin.

When he reached your core, there was a pause before he pressed his mouth against you. You let out a pathetic moan as his tongue licked a warm, wet strip to the center of your cunt. Your head lolled back as the feeling of him lapping at you was so overwhelming you didn't know what to do.

He drags his tongue up your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking. Hard. You practically scream out in pleasure before slapping a hand to your mouth, remembering where you were.

You feel him grin into your pussy as he sucks harder and you twitch. Your hand flies into his hair, gripping the strands and pushing his head deeper as you chase your climax. He doesn't seem to mind it though.

"I'm gonna - fuck," you said, breathless as you feel your orgasm building inside you. You clench your thighs around his help, but his grip on your hips tightens, spreading them apart again.

"Remmick - wait," you said, but he doesn't stop. He wanted you to come undone in his mouth.

He watched you hungrily, eyes on your throat as your head fell back, restless whimpers falling from your lips. He delivered one finally suck, the pressure driving you over the edge. You let out a ragged cry, legs closing around his head. Your hips shoot upwards, grinding into him as you ride out your orgasm.

You lay, worn out, chest heaving. You stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy, hands falling to your sides. Remmick stayed between your thighs, dragging his tongue around your skin to clean you up. "You alright?"

You let out a drowsy hum in response, eyes following him as he climbed on top of you. You watched as he smiled down at you, lips brushing against your temple tenderly. He kneeled back, observing you lying there. Without warning, he lifted you up.

You murmured in protest, but he hushed you softly, "Shhh, stay quiet." He carried you to your bed and placed you gently on the mattress. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling unexpectedly calm given the... circumstances.

"I've gotta' leave now," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face.

"And why is that?"

"'Cause I just have to." You let out a small huff, but he merely laughed quietly. "Best you sleep now." He stood up straight, taking a step backwards towards the open window. "But, I'll be back soon enough." 

A shiver coursed through your body, not of fear, but of anticipation. It was as if the very air around you had changed—charged with a new energy. The weight of fear had lifted, replaced by a sense of exhilaration and readiness that warmed your core. Something had shifted within you, and you realized you were no longer afraid of him. Not even in the slightest. 

[misctf]

Safe Space Spray

Owen picked up his phone and dialed Jake's number as he drove along the winding country road leading to Jake's family cabin. The warm southern sun beat down through the windshield while classic rock played softly from the speakers. After a few rings, Jake answered.

“Well hey there partner!” Jake's cheerful voice came through the speaker. “How far ya'll out?”

“Not too much longer now,” Owen replied, his deep southern drawl rolling through each word, “I reckon 'bout thirty minutes tops. That fishing hole better be swimmin' with catfish like you said!”

“My mama didn’t raise no liar.” Jake replied, his hearty laugh echoing over the phone.

Owen smiled. This was gonna be the best fishin’ trip yet. As the call continued, Owen kept his eyes on the road ahead, the vast expanse of rural landscape stretching out before him. Suddenly, something caught his eye- a small figure standing beside a broken-down vehicle on the shoulder.

“Aw shucks, looks like some fella's car done gone and quit on 'im.” Owen muttered to himself as he slowed his truck, “Jake, I reckon I’ll be by later. I’m gonna see if I can lend a hand.”

Owen pulled his pickup truck over onto the gravelly shoulder behind the stranded vehicle. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his short brown hair and approached the man hunched over the open hood.

“Howdy there! Looks like you're havin' some trouble with your ride. Name's Owen, I'm pretty handy with fixin' things if you need a lendin' hand.” He called out in his friendly drawl.

The stranger, a slender young man with styled blonde hair, whirled around. His eyes widened in surprise and apprehension as he took in Owen's appearance. The twink's hands shook slightly as he reached into his pocket and aimed what looked like a small spray bottle directly at Owen.

“I-I don't want any trouble!” the blonde stammered, his voice high-pitched with anxiety.

Before Owen could react, the twink pressed down on the trigger, unleashing a fine mist across his handsome face and chest. Owen blinked and coughed, shaking his head slightly as droplets hit his face and clothes. It didn’t sting or burn. It felt like water.

“The hell was that for?” Owen demanded, his brow furrowing in confusion and annoyance, “I ain't here to cause you no harm, bud. Just tryin' to help.”

“I-I'm sorry!” The twink squeaked, “Around here, you don't know what kind of people you'll run into.”

Owen sighed heavily, wiping his brow, “Listen here, I understand yer cautious. But I promise you, I mean no ill intent. Let me take a look at yer car, see if I can get 'er runnin' again.”

The blonde hesitated briefly before nodding, “Okay... I guess that would be okay. Thank you.” He stepped aside, allowing Owen access to the vehicle.

As Owen popped the hood, he furrowed his brow in concentration, his large hands working deftly under the hood. However, he found himself growing increasingly clumsy and uncoordinated, fumbling with tools he'd handled with ease a hundred times before.

“I swear...” he muttered, his words coming out slightly slurred, “This oughta be a cinch for me...”

He fumbled with the engine components, his large hands suddenly feeling clumsy and unfamiliar. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to focus. Just then, the twink appeared at his side, holding out a bottled water.

“Here, you must be thirsty after all this work.”

Without thinking, Owen took the bottle and chirped in an impossibly high, effeminate voice, “Thanks sis!”

Owen froze, his eyes widening as the words left his mouth. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he gripped the edge of the car hood for support. Shaking his head, he tried to push the strange moment from his mind.

“Uh, thanks kindly.” he mumbled, taking a long swig of water to cover his embarrassment.

He turned back to the engine, determined to finish the repair quickly so he could be on his way.

With renewed focus (and a touch more difficulty), Owen worked to diagnose and fix the issue. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped back as the engine roared to life.

“There ya go, as good as new!” He grinned at Paul, wiping his hands on a rag.

As Owen straightened up and turned to face Paul fully, he couldn't help but really notice the younger man for the first time. Paul's delicate features, stylish hair, and slim physique suddenly seemed incredibly appealing. Their eyes locked- Paul’s deep blue captivating Owen’s. Owen felt an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and his dick stir ever so slightly in his increasingly tighter jeans.

“You've been an absolute lifesaver.” Paul gushed, flashing Owen a dazzling smile. He stepped closer, the two now the same height. Owen could’ve sworn he had been taller, “If you ever find yourself in the city, call me. I'd love to thank you properly.” He slipped a piece of paper into Owen’s pocket with a playful wink.

Owen felt a flush creep up his neck at the suggestive tone. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure despite the odd sensations still tingling through his body.

“Ah, well, just doin' what any decent fella would do.”

Owen watched as Paul slid gracefully into his car, the movement highlighting the pert curve of his ass. He swallowed thickly, his heart pounding for reasons he couldn't quite explain. As Paul drove away, Owen looked down and saw the discarded can that Paul sprayed him with earlier.

“He must’ve forgotten it.” Owen frowned inspecting the strange bottle, “Safe Space Spray... what in the world...” He chuckled, “I reckon I’ll get it to ‘em when I see ‘em next.” He paused, “What the hell am I thinkin’. I ain’t seein’ him again...”

But he wasn’t sure he could even convince himself. He wanted to see him again... Owen shook his head and placed the can in his pocket before climbing back into his own truck. With a sigh, he reached for the ignition but recoiled at the sight of his hand.

“What in the...”

Owen stared at his hand in shock, noting the slight tremor and how it almost seemed to have lost some of its natural ruggedness. His callouses... gone. His nails... well-manicured. Alarmed, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and peeled out, speeding towards Jake's cabin with an urgency he couldn't explain. As he drove, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he noticed his hair looked shaggier, his facial features softening.

“What in tarnation is happenin' to me?” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. He tried to rationalize it, blaming stress or exhaustion, but he knew it was something more.

Just then, he squirmed in his seat as his ass inflated, his previously snug jeans straining against the growing mounds. And with each bump in the road, Owen stifled a moan as jolts of unfamiliar pleasure rushed through his groin.

“No, no, no... Oh my GAWD!” He whimpered, cringing at the loss of his rich Southern drawl- replaced now by words colored by a nasally, high-pitched timbre, “Like... this is totally not okay!”

Owen finally arrived at Jake's cabin, tires screeching as he parked haphazardly. He stumbled out of the truck, trying to balance himself given his now fat ass. He can hear Jake outside, gathering wood for a bonfire and he bites his tongue before sauntering towards the door.

“I-I have to get inside... hide this from Jake...” He whimpered, “How... why is this...?” His eyes widen, “The spray!” He squealed, “I need to like... totally wash this off!”

Owen practically sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. With trembling hands, he began tearing at his clothes, buttons flying as he stripped. He stood naked in front of the mirror, hardly recognizing the reflection staring back at him.

His once broad shoulders had narrowed, his pecs shrinking into perky little mounds with cute pink nipples. Below, his six-pack had melted away, leaving behind a smooth, hairless torso. And between his legs... Owen gasped, covering his mouth as he saw the nub that had once been his proud cock.

“Oh em gee...” He whined, “I'm like... a total twink now!” Tears pricked at his eyes as he reached for the shower knob with slender fingers. Steam billowed out as he stepped under the hot spray, hoping the water might somehow reverse these changes.

Owen lathered up a loofah, scrubbing at his skin vigorously. To his horror, he watched clumps of any remaining dark body hair rinse away down the drain, leaving behind silky smooth flesh. Scars and rough patches vanished, his complexion becoming flawlessly soft and clear.

“Eep!” He yelped as his hands brushed lower, encountering the plush globes of his ass. They seemed to swell and expand with every passing second, growing rounder and fuller until they were each easily a handful. Owen couldn't resist giving them a tentative squeeze, marveling at their suppleness- imagining another man playing with them.

A breathy moan escaped his increasingly plumper lips as he kneaded the doughy cheeks, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through his core- thoughts of muscular men squeezing his ass filled his head.

“Oh fuck yes.... I wonder...” Curiosity got the better of him as he inserted a digit inside his virgin hole. It stretched deliciously around the intrusion and Owen saw stars, his neglected cock weeping steadily. He pumped the finger faster, soon adding a second, then a third, “Oh.... Ohhhhhhh....” He moaned, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, “I'm... I'm gonna... cum!”

Owen let out a long moan as his entire body seized and his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave. He slumped to the shower’s floor, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over. After a few moments of basking in his post-orgasm bliss, the new twink slowly stood up and exited the shower. He walked over to his bed and collapsed- the day’s events exacting their toll on him.

“What the hell!?” Owen looked up- a shocked expression gracing his cute features.

“J-Jake! I... um...It’s me! It’s Owen!” Owen stammered, his voice pitching higher than normal. He made no attempt to cover himself, proud now to flaunt his assets. And besides, why had he never noticed how sexy Jake was before?

Jake's jaw dropped, his eyes bulging as he took in the shocking sight before him. There were few, if any similarities between him and his friend. But there were enough.

“Holy shit, Owen?! What happened to you?”

Owen's eyes lit up as a mischievous grin spread across his glossy lips, “Oh sweetie, you wouldn't believe the wild ride I've been on!” He giggled.

Reaching over to the pile of discarded clothes, he fished out the mysterious spray can. Jake looked at his friend, and then to the can, and then back up to his friend.

“Wha...”

Without warning, Owen pressed down on the trigger, unleashing another fine mist straight into Jake's stunned, handsome face...

[oldermenfucker]

This City Holds My Heart | J. Abbot

summary: He hears you are coming back to Pittsburgh for the weekend. Maybe the reunion will wash away the pain that’s left inside him after your paths divided.

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, heavy angst, hurt no comfort, right people wrong time kind of thing, p in v, exes reunion, mentions of suicidal thoughts, ex!fem!reader, neurologist!reader, Jack’s prosthetic leg, reader is nondescript except that she has hair (long enough to frame her face), reader has a nickname, mentions of PTSD & trauma, widowed!Jack, sad people in love, alcohol consumption (a few drinks), protected sex, lots of tears, JACK’S POV!!! English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 10.3k+ (BEAR WITH ME OKAY)

an: HI this is my piece for A Doctor A Day challenge hosted by these amazing people [ @clubsoft @ananonymousaffair & @letsgobarbs ]! I’m so excited to know your thoughts on this piece🥹 I poured everything I could into this fic, smut, fluff, angst etc and I really want to know what you guys think!

Prompt: "I know you just landed, and I know you're probably busy, but... I'd love to see you?" + Orange

He doesn’t remember the last time he ate something; was it the banana Shen forced him to take a bite from, or the granola bar Dana shoved into his hands when she came to take the shift? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

  Jack pushes his fists into the pockets of his cargo pants, his tired gaze moving from the edge of the rooftop to the building in front of him, watching as sunrise hits the streets of Pittsburgh slowly, crawling its way between the cars and the old bricks of the walls.

  He replays the shift in his head, trying to figure out what he missed that led to three code blues. Each case had its own story, each patient had a unique experience, and families begged him to save their loved ones, but he couldn’t. 

  He brings his fists out of his pockets, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at the peachy sky, watching how another day starts. Some people don’t get to see this anymore, he thinks bitterly, some people don’t get to start a new day. They are stuck in yesterday while he moves forward as if nothing’s happened.

  He looks back at the edge, he takes a step closer, gazing down at the people who move around, getting ready to battle through another twenty-four hours. He wishes he was this free, to walk down a street without the responsibility of the Emergency department, without the little limp in his leg and reminder of how long it took for the soft tissue of his leg to heal.

  He has been tempted before to jump, but nowadays he does not even have the motivation to do that. He is numb and has been like this for a good six years, worse after the Pitfest casualties. That was a year ago, how time passes in the blink of an eye, like the sunrise he watches daily.

  He throws his head back, listening to the birds chirping. They made a nest a few weeks back, usually coming to their home around the time he walks to the rooftop. They have a life based on instinct, just as he does; he eats, sleeps, goes to work, and then repeats.

  Robby calls him a soulless soldier— he is just as bad as Jack, if not worse — because most of the time, there is no smile on his lips, and his tone drips with sarcasm. 

  Pittfest changed everyone, including the ER cowboys more than others. Robby broke apart with Jake’s withdrawal, and Jack… Jack tries to survive, day by day, and shift after shift. He still finds joy in little things; when he saves someone’s life by his sharp mind, when a procedure is successful, when he argues with Walsh.

  There is still an ache inside him from years ago when his wife died, and it only got worse six years ago, and now? All he is a great doctor and nothing more.

  He says nothing when he hears the familiar footsteps on the tiny rocks of the rooftop, his stethoscope moving against his chest as he shifts his weight on his good leg, sighing in relief when the tension is halfway gone from his knee.

  “Haven’t jumped off yet?” Robby leans on the railing behind Jack, looking as the sun rises slowly from behind the buildings, “Thought you’d done this time.”

  “Why? I don’t think I’ve managed to get more depressed since yesterday,” Jack replies, resting his elbows on the metal railing behind him, looking from his peripheral vision at Robby who smiles and shakes his head.

  “A trauma came in just a few minutes ago, an attempt or pushed, we don’t know but he was the same age as you. Nearly sent me to cardiac arrest,” Robby drops his head on the back of his hands, “You better not jump, you didn’t do it last year, don’t do it ever.”

  “It’s exhausting, brother,” Jack sighs, tilting his head back as the sunlight hits his face finally, the warmth of it spreading on his skin deliberately, “Coming back here, watching people lose someone they care about, calling us names because they don’t know medicine has its limits. And yet, we come back, for what? I don’t fucking know.”

  “You have me, I’m here, I’ll never leave you hanging all by yourself,” Robby nudges his forearm, looking at his face with a pleading look, “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  “You’re not lonely,” Jack shrugs, “You have Collins. Who do I have? Fucking Shen? I’m living in a loop, man. Every day is the same old same old. I miss my wife, I miss her, there is not a day that I wish I got the help I needed sooner, but even my therapist can’t do shit nowadays.”

  “You are being too hard on yourself, brother,” Robby straightens his back, resting his hand on Jack’s shoulder as they both look up to the sky, “Besides, I might have… some news about—“

  “Who?” Jack’s ears perk up, his posture growing rigid as he turns his head to look at Robby, “Who?”

  “Her,” Robby says with a small smile, “Your Clementine.”

  “Don’t say that stupid nickname,” Jack groans, shaking his head as he takes a step back, resting his waist against the cold metal bars, “She hated it.”

  “I think she liked it,” Robby shrugs, looking down at his shoes before he starts talking again, “There is a neurology congress tonight, and apparently a follow-up gala on Saturday night with the Head departments PTMC invited.”

  “So?” Jack tilts his head at the older doctor, scoffing when Robby raises his eyebrows at him, “You’re telling me you’re invited to a stupid gala that has nothing to do with me?”

  “For a medical genius you sure as hell are dumb,” Robby watches as Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m saying she’s coming back to the city.

  Jack’s heart drops to the bottom of his ribcage. This has to be a cruel joke, it must be. He doesn’t know how to react; be happy? Why? The last time you saw each other was to say goodbye. Be sad? He already is for ten thousand different reasons. 

  So when he looks at Robby with his eyes widened in shock, he knows that he is still deeply into something he has tried to bury for years, ever since he watched you board that plane.

  “What?” He sounds so small, like a kid lost in a playground; everything feels natural yet so off, like a distant dream turning into a nightmare in the back of his mind.

  “She has kept in touch with Dana,” Robby sighs and tightens the grip he has on Jack’s shoulder, squeezing the muscles gently to make sure Jack doesn’t get lost in his head again, “Dana told me her plane would land around… yeah, seven-thirty, eight at most. Which is now.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Jack asks, pressing his lips into a flat line, his hands shaking as his chest begins to rise and fall faster. He rests his sweaty palms on the railings behind him, closing his fists around the cold metal.

  “I don’t know,” Robby shakes his head, staring into the distance as the sun finally rises into the blue sky, “I just thought you should know.”

  “Thanks, brother, now I won’t be able to get a lick of sleep knowing my ex is in the town,” Jack snaps, running a hand down his face as he grits his teeth, all to stop himself from tearing up.

  “I didn’t say it to—“ Robby cuts himself off with a deep breath before he pats Jack’s shoulder and takes a step back, “Take it easy, man. I’m gonna go.”

  Jack listens to Robby’s footsteps; it takes ten large steps to reach the door, and he stops Robby by the eighth one, shocking both him and his friend to his dismay.

  “Is her number still the same?”

  Jack’s voice is shaky like he doesn’t trust himself to say it loud enough for Robby to hear, but his friend does, stopping in his steps to glance back at Jack with a small smile.

  “Yeah.”

  One, two, and Robby is out of the door, leaving Jack heaving with each breath. Jack dodges the railing and steps on the safe side just to lean over the metal bars, his lips parting as he gasps for air.

  You are back to Pittsburgh, you are in the city he watched you leave, the same city you made so many memories with him in the streets and bars. The same city that he broke your heart in, the very same one you told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

  He lets out a shaky breath, reaching for his phone absentmindedly. One call wouldn’t hurt, right? It wouldn’t tear his heart and break his bones surely. People call their ex-lovers every day, why shouldn’t he?

  He opens the list of his contacts, scrolling until he sees your name with a red heart next to it; he didn’t have it in him to change the name, nor could he delete your number. 

  That is why his fingers are trembling over your phone number, trying to make up his mind before he does anything stupid. But luck is not on his side today it seems — not like it ever was — and his finger slips accidentally and presses the call button.

  “Fuck, fuck—“ he yells, putting the phone against his ear quickly, his hand going to his hip as he starts pacing the rooftop, his heartbeat racing with each beep of the line, “What am I doing?”

  He doesn’t know if he wants you to pick up the phone or not, he probably does but the thought of talking to you again after the farewell you had makes him anxious. What would he say? Hello? How are you doing? Aren’t these too cliche when you are calling your ex?

  The beeping finally stops, and he can feel his heart stopping for a second before it goes to voicemail.

  “Hi! Thank you for reaching out, please leave your message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” 

  Your voice… fuck, your voice is still as sweet as he remembers. He calms down instantly, a tired smile covering his face as he listens to the voicemail repeating itself. You sound so beautiful, so free as if you didn’t cry hours in his arms as he pushed you away once more, as if he never happened to you.

  After the third repeat, he remembers he can leave you a message, hoping you still have his number and he isn’t just an unknown caller.

  “Hey,” he clears his throat, running his free hand through his unruly curls, “Hey, um, this is Jack! Y’know, Jack Abbot? Yeah well urm… I heard you are back in town, yeah, Robby said something about a congress you’re attending. I know you just landed, and I know you're probably busy, but... I'd love to see you?"

  Fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuck—

  He hangs up immediately, his fingers gripping his phone so tightly he thinks it might break. What did he fucking mean he’d love to see you? He is a fucking idiot, a total moron, a dumb piece of scum, but when his phone dings a few minutes as he is near going into a full panic attack, he stops.

  “Jack, hi! I’m exhausted now, but I’d love to meet with you before my congress! Our usual cafè near The Pitt?”

  He nearly drops the phone, opening the text in the blink of an eye, rereading the message over ten thousand times to make sure it is really you. And when he opens the contact, he sees that it is true, you have texted him, accepting to meet up with him, at the cafè you usually went to after the night shifts.

  “Yes, of course. See you at 6?” 

  He presses send and starts pacing again. Waiting for a reply after six years makes him nervous to the point he thinks he might drop dead on sight.

  “See you, Jack!”

  He sighs in relief when he reads your reply, chuckling dryly as he rereads the conversation, not truly believing how he is going to meet with you again.

  He walks downstairs with flushed cheeks and a heart beating in anticipation. When Robby and Dana see him walking inside The Pitt, he rolls his eyes at them and nods when Dana raises an eyebrow at him in a silent question.

  It is going to be a crazy day for sure.

  He dresses up as best as he can; a navy blue button-up with worn-out jeans and his black sneakers. Which is so… not Jack. He feels like he has put on a persona he didn’t know he had, his walls slowly building up with each step he takes toward the location.

  He thought walking would be a good idea because now his nerves are making him sweat, his palms growing more clammy with every step he takes. 

  What will he say? Will he ask about how you have been doing? How you are doing? Do you have anyone waiting for you at home—

  The thought makes him shiver, stopping him midway to open the door of the coffee shop. He hates the idea of you with someone, he despises it, he fucking loathes it. Even the image of someone holding your hand makes his eyes tick, and his fingers shake over the glass door, but he has to pull through.

  The bell over the door dings when he steps inside, memories flooding his mind as he looks around, remembering all the exhausted morning dates after the shifts, all the cries and hushed arguments you two had here.

  Bittersweet yet wholesome. He misses the days he could hold your hand, but he gave up as soon as everything got serious.

  He rounds the corner to the spot you would always sit, and when he does, his eyes fall on you. He freezes, hands dangling on his sides as he stares at your silhouette.

  The orange hue of sunset shines through the windows on your face, your hair framing your face just as beautifully as he remembers if not more. Your hand is tucked under your chin, looking down at the marble table, tracing the shapes mindlessly.

  You are ethereal.

  Jack feels his lungs are about to collapse when you turn your head and find him standing there, and he watches how your lips stretch into a soft smile, steading yourself with your palm on the edge of the table as you stand up.

  He licks his lips and glances down for a brief moment to catch the breath you are stealing from his lungs from a few meters away. He looks up quickly, crossing the remaining distance slowly before he stands in front of you, his eyes swimming with various emotions unknown to him — is it love? Longing? Sadness? He doesn’t know.

  “Hey,” he greets you quietly, hazel eyes locking into yours as he waits with bated breath for you to say something, anything. Instead of talking, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as you mumble a ‘Hi, Jack!’ Into his shirt.

  Hugging. You are hugging him after years of no contact. He can’t think even if he wants to. He wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you close by muscle memory, breathing in your scent as he buries his face into your hair, trying his best to not cry right here and then.

  He lets go of your waist when he feels you lose your grip on him, slowly pulling back to look at his face, and he takes his time memorizing every up and down, every corner of your face.

  He thinks of the days he used to kiss every single inch of your face when you were on rotation and he was getting ready to go to the hospital. He remembers how he used to caress your cheek when you fell asleep on his chest on his old couch during movie nights.

  He also remembers the days you tried to not let your sadness show on your face when brought up his wife again, putting the bricks of the protective wall on top of each other to shut you out.

  “Shit, sorry,” you chuckle awkwardly, pulling away and he misses the weight of you in his embrace, the warmth you provide by just existing and breathing the same air as him, “Please, sit! I know you’ll be back in The Pitt in a few hours.”

  “Yeah, urm, yeah…” he huffs a slight laugh and walks around you to pull your chair out for you, “Ladies first.”

  “Ever the gentleman,” you tease him, thanking him as he pushes your chair in when he knows you are secured and smiles at you before he walks towards his own chair and sits down, “What are you having?”

  “Well… something highly caffeinated,” he shrugs, looking down at the wedding band he is wearing—

  Fuck, he totally forgot to take it off. Did he though? Did he ever want to take it off or did he think about it but didn’t ponder over it, like a passing joke in his head?

  He looks up instantly, finding you already looking at the black ring before you tuck your hand under your chin again, meeting his eyes with a small smile before you look away and gesture for the waiter to come and take your orders.

  “Espresso it is then,” you try to break the ice he notices, but he has already started to fuck everything up again from the very first second. He covers his left hand, nodding at you with a ghost of a smile on his lips while he feels as if he is about to vomit his heart out with how insanely fast it is beating.

  “Welcome, what can I get you?”

  “A cup of tea with carrot cake and,” you look back at him, smiling before you glance back at the waiter, “A shot of espresso.”

  “Coming right up!” 

  He watches you closely — he is staring but that’s a creepy way to put it — and he nearly melts when you turn to look at him with the softest smile he has ever seen.

  “Carrot cake? Really?” Jack grins when he watches you grimace, hiding your face in your hands as you look at him from between your fingers, “Never thought I’d see the day that you will eat a carrot cake.”

  “You’re insufferable!” You chuckle, resting your chin on the heel of your palm, and he watches these micro movements with such an endearment it makes his heart clench, “It’s just a newly formed habit in the hospital. My assistant brings me tea and her very sweet orange carrot cake every evening. Who am I to say no to a home baked sweet treat?”

  “Understood,” he nods and smiles, taking a deep breath to calm himself without making a mess of himself. Your laugh is still the same, even more beautiful than he remembers and it feels so good to be there to witness it again, “How’s Boston?”

  “Oh, you know, colder than here but I enjoy it,” you explain, resting your elbows on the table as you look at him, “The bars are pretty amazing! Not that I have much time to explore them because of the hospital and applying for a fellowship. But… it’s okay, I guess.”

  “Wow, you’re thriving,” he grins, biting the inside of his cheek, “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thank you, Jack,” you reach across the table to hold his hand — a habit you had when you were nervous, and he quickly realized his touch grounded you when you needed it the most, “Enough about me, how have you been?”

  “Same old same old—“

  “Don’t do that!” You squeeze his hand, glaring at him before your eyes soften when you notice his defeated ones, “You know I hate this phrase, Jack. Come on, tell me about The Pitt!”

  He rubs his thumb over your knuckles, running a hand over his face as he notices the waiter coming with your orders to the table.

  You pull your hand back, letting the waiter put down your cups and plate, asking if you need anything which Jack replies with a quick ‘no, thank you’ before he looks back at you.

  “I’m sure Dana is keeping you updated—“

  “I want you to tell me,” you cut him off with a soft frown he knows so well, you always gave him this expression when you knew he was dodging the question poorly, “How’s Robby?”

  “He is great,” he shakes his head and chuckles, briefly thinking about how his friend has gotten his life together before he focuses on you again, “He is in a relationship with one of the new attendees, Heather Collins. I don’t know if you know her…”

  “Dana said something about Robby dating a resident after I left but that’s it,” you reply, taking a sip of your tea, “But please tell him I’m so happy for him. He went through a lot and deserves to have an amazing life.”

  “Will do,” he nods, drowning all the espresso shot in one move, kissing his teeth as he looks back at his ring again.

  “Take it easy, soldier,” you push the carrot cake plate towards him slowly, handing him a fork to eat something sweet, “How are you doing, Jack?”

  “Me?” He chuckles dryly, trying to come up with a sarcastic reply but when he sees how worried you look for him, “I’m fine.”

  “That’s it? Six years and you don’t have anything to tell me about?” You press the matter, giving him a teasing look but he has none of it.

  “We had a mass casualty last year, Robby lost his stepson because he couldn’t save Jake’s girlfriend—“

  “That’s Robby’s story to tell, I’m interested to know—“

  “Know about me?” He looks at you as if you have hung the stars, as if every moment he spends looking at your face illuminated by the dark fading orange light of sunset doesn’t make his heart stop, “Well, I go to the rooftop every day thinking I might jump this time, and when I look down I feel numb, maybe the therapy is working because I can’t do it. I see my wife in my sleep, I imagine the life I could have had with her.”

  You take a deep breath at the mention of his late wife — or wife as he always calls her — you take two large sips of your hot tea and he mentally face palms himself at rambling all these shitty thoughts to you. 

  “You still go up?” You ask, your voice small and trembling, thinking of all the kisses and fights you shared on that damned rooftop.

  “Yeah,” he looks out of the window, his eyes filling with tears before he wipes them quickly, enjoying the cold sensation of his ring over his heated eyelids, “It’s the only place that isn’t corrupted by death.”

  “Cut it some slack, our first kiss was on that rooftop,” you reach for his hands again, and he hates how easily he calms down from such a soft touch, “I don’t think I can ever forget it.”

  “Well, it wasn’t an easy trauma, the patient died before we could get our hands on him,” he squeezes your hands, “And you were so mad at me for not letting you go for the fourth round of epi.”

  “You had to shut me up somehow,” you laugh, looking down at your joined hands, “Fuck, I was so immature back then.”

  “No, you weren’t,” he caresses the soft skin of your wrist, his hazel eyes locking into yours with sincerity, “You were hopeful.”

  “Which was horrible for emergency medicine,” you shrug, “I still am, though. That’s why neurology was a great choice. It has death, I still feel the panic sometimes, but they don’t die while I’m operating on them. It’s such a dick thing to say but… I’m glad I’m not there to witness it.”

  “I get it,” he takes a deep breath, his eyes moving slowly from your hands up to your neck and face, falling over your lips, “That’s why the rooftop visits exist.”

  He looks down at his watch before he finds the courage to look into your eyes again, seeing how it is time to go back home and put his scrubs on. 

  Jack doesn’t wanna go, he doesn’t wanna leave. He wishes he could stay in this very moment, just in this picture pretending everything is fine and you are back, that he can delude himself into believing he has you back in his arms for an eternity.

  “I totally forgot, my congress starts at eight,” you pull your hands away from him, leaving his palms cold and itchy without yours in them, and he slowly drags his forearms back to his side, standing up to say the word he hates so much again.

  “Are you… are you leaving?” 

  “Yeah, I have to…” you pout, and it takes everything in him not to reach out and kiss you until the pout is turned into a grin, “But there is a gala tomorrow night. Fundraising and everything, I’d be in town.”

  “Yeah, cool,” he nods, forcing out a smile, standing up after you and waiting for you to say something, anything…

  “Will I see you there?”

  Yes. Yes. He can make it work. Say yes—

  “No, I don’t think so,” he curses himself in his head, fisting his hands, nails digging into his palms, “I’m not invited.”

  “Oh,” you say, eyes widening as if you have heard the most devastating news ever, fingers rolling the band of your purse as you gaze into his eyes, “Well then… this is goodbye I guess.”

  “Yeah, yeah—“ he gasps when you wrap your arms around his shoulders for the second time in six years again, holding him close for one last time before he wraps his large arms around your back as well, “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “Me too, Jack,” he nearly drops on his knees when he hears you say his name with tears stinging your eyes, “Me too.”

  “Goodbye.”

  He watches you with red eyes as you try to hold back a sob before you reach for your purse to pull out your wallet and pay for the drinks, but he stops you with a hand on your cheek.

  “I’ve got it,” it pains him that he cannot lean down and kiss you when you nod and scrunch up your nose in order to keep the tears from streaming down your face, “You’ll be late.”

  You move forward, pecking his cheek slowly, and he marvels at how soft your lips feel against his stubble, and he hopes whoever gets to feel your lips back in Boston worships you the way you deserve — the way he wanted to do but fucked it all up.

  He watches you leave, for the second time, and it ruins him, making a tornado inside him that wrecks the remaining parts of his sanity. You are okay, you are happy, and that is all that matters.

  He inhales sharply before he reaches for his phone, opening his text messages with Robby before he sends a quick text.

  “Will you go to tomorrow's gala?”

  It has been years since anyone had seen Jack in a fucking tuxedo. He thinks the last time he tried one was for his wedding, and after that, he dropped the thousand dollar fabric in the trash.

  But now? He is wearing one, with a white shirt under his black coat and a simple black tie he is trying so hard to fix. He looks in the mirror one last time, running a hand in his hair before he moves out of the bathroom, following the sound of music until he reaches the entrance of the hall.

  He feels out of place immediately. It’s not him who is supposed to be here, it’s Robby, but he can’t lose his last chance of seeing you again. So here he is, grabbing a glass of champagne as the waiter walks past him, drowning the sparkling liquor like water.

  He scans the hall, not finding you anywhere as he moves between people until he reaches the bar, ordering a Double Black Label neat while his eyes wander from one woman to another in hopes of finding you somewhere among them.

  He sips on his whiskey, leaning on his elbows on the barstool as he watches the doctors and CEOs get together in various groups. It is a ridiculous shit show, some people go to the podium to give their speech, some linger and chat, and it seems the only person he is interested in is nowhere in sight.

  He shifts his weight off his prosthetic leg, sitting on the barstool only to stare into the glass he has in hand, swirling the liquid with gentle moves of his wrist.

  It is still too far from him, but he can hear your laughter from a mile away. His ears perk up, and he almost breaks his neck when he turns around abruptly to catch you walking with a couple next to you, conversing casually before you spot him through the crowd.

  He stands up instantly, nearly losing his balance when he sees you are coming towards him, hearing a soft ‘I would like to introduce you to someone’ before you lead the couple to where he is standing.

  “This is Dr. Jack Abbot from PTMC,” he nods, smiling politely at the couple who introduce themselves as well, shaking his hand before the three of them look back at you, “I used to be his resident before I changed to Neurology.”

  Jack’s hand finds the small of your back as he talks with the couple, finding out about their specialty and where they work, how they know you, and how proud they are to be represented by you in this gala.

  “Well, we will take our leave for now,” The male doctor says, shaking Jack’s hand before he shakes yours, his wife doing the same before she pulls you in for a quick hug, and the two of you watch as they walk away.

  “Hey, stranger,” you turn to him, beaming at him when he smiles back, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, “Fancy seeing you here.”

  “I had to see you again,” he mumbles, his hands caressing a path from your wrist to your shoulders, feeling the bare skin of your arms and skimping down to your sides, resting over your hips with a gentle squeeze, “It didn’t settle right when we said goodbye yesterday.”

  “It will never settle right, Jack,” you look away from his intense gaze, chuckling when you notice his crooked tie, “You still haven’t learned how to do your tie, or you left it like this on purpose?”

  “Little bit of both,” he shrugs innocently, his eyes taking in your face; you are so close he can smell the champagne mixing with your perfume, your soft lashes kissing your undereye when you blink, your lips painted in a nude shade of pink, and your hair falls around your face like a curtain leading to the hanging Gardens of Babylon — you look like a goddess compared to him.

  “Good thing you have the right person to take care of you,” you whisper, eyes glinting playfully as you pull on his tie to redo it correctly. 

  Jack relishes the feeling of your touch on his collar. He feels as if his senses have heightened somehow because he swears he can literally feel every movement of your fingers on his skin through his clothes.

  He looks down at your dress, watching as the classy design clings to your body just the right way, showing off your curves and shoulders in the most perfect way.

  “You look so beautiful,” he breathes out, letting his hands wander over your back, knowing quite well that he is crossing an invisible line, but he doesn’t care now, you are here, back in his arms, exes or not he has the chance to have you all to himself tonight if you take him back for just a few hours.

  “Thank you,” he leans down to kiss your forehead when he notices how flustered you get, but his demeanor grows closed off when he notices a man making his way towards you, stepping next to you before he extends his hand.

  “Would you do me the honor and dance with me?” 

  You pull back from Jack a little, mouth agape as you look between the man and Jack, but with a little squeeze of his hand on your waist, you give him an apologetic smile before taking up the man’s offer and resting your hand in his palm.

  “Of course.”

  Jack watches from his spot how the man leads you to the dance floor as other people pair up and join you there, the band starts playing the music and to his dismay, he has to be subjected to the sight of another man twirling you around the hall.

  Even if he is seething in his seat, he can’t deny how elegant you look with your dress flowing behind you and that smile you give your partner… this smile makes his pulse quicken, a warm blush covering the tip of his nose and cheeks. 

  He watches as the man lies his hand on your waist, pulling you a bit closer, and it makes his blood boil even though he knows he has no claim over you. You are not his lover, not his girlfriend, hell you are not even his resident anymore.

  He can’t take it anymore, so as soon as the song ends he drowns the rest of his whiskey and strides towards you, clearing his throat to catch your attention.

  “May I have your next dance?” Jack asks, his heart hammering against his ribs as he waits for you to accept his offer, and you do, with a bright smile that lights up his world.

  “Yes, you may,” you turn around to the man you danced with earlier, “Excuse me, please.”

  Jack tucks you close to him when a new song starts, his hand moving from your shoulders to your hip, the other one holding your smaller hand in his as he sways both of you gently to the rhythm of the music.

  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” He leans down to whisper in your ear, smirking when your hand wanders up to his shoulder, cupping the side of his neck gently.

  “Once or twice,” you chuckle, dropping your forehead on his shoulder as he leans down to breathe in your scent, holding you close until the thoughts of you ever leaving again fade away for a few hours at least, “Aren’t you supposed to be at The Pitt?”

  “They don’t need me there,” he says, putting a distance between the two of you to hold your joined hands up so you can twirl before he pulls you in a bit roughly, keeping your chest pressed into his.

  “And you thought you were needed here?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him as his smirk widens, his band on your waist moving to your hip to squeeze you in response.

  “Am I not?” He feigns innocence, his tone matching yours playfully, “I could leave now if that’s what you want—“

  “I never said you weren’t needed,” you don’t break eye contact, and it thrills him as if it was six years ago when you danced for the first time at Dana’s wedding anniversary, “But I know a place if you wanna leave…?”

  “Tempting, very tempting,” he brings your hand to his lips, pressing feather light kisses all over your knuckles, “Are you suggesting?”

  “It might be the few champagne glasses I had but,” you break away from his grip, interweaving your fingers with his as you tug on his hand gently, “My room is on the twentieth floor if you are interested…”

  “Lead the way.”

  Your journey to your room is uneventful; you don’t have a chance to do anything because you are never alone. Not in the hallway he wanted to press you against the wall, not in the elevator bunch of people jumped into when the doors were about to close, not even as you walked on the floor because one of the doctors’ rooms was also on the same fucking lane.

  He is trying to act unbothered as you fumble with the key card, trying to open the door while Jack has his hands roaming your back absentmindedly, his touch trembling slightly in excitement.

  He is going to have you again, after all this time, he is going to hold you as if you are his again.

  You push the door open and tug Jack in by his tie, crashing your mouth into his as you press him against the closed door. He gasps into your mouth before he closes his eyes and kisses you back, one of his hands coming up to grab the back of your neck, pulling you closer until there is no space between you.

  You taste like Moet and cherry lip gloss with a hint of Vanilla in your perfume, and your hands feel warm and welcoming, anchoring him to reality because his life had no purpose before this very moment.

  You ground him, just as you have always done, with subtle kisses and tugs and a hidden hunger slowly pouring into your touch. He feels it all; the small skip of your fingers over his tux as they reach to undo the tie, the quiver of your bottom lip as they chase his chapped ones.

  Jack’s entire world has faded, and all he can see is you.

  He guides you further inside the room with slow deliberate steps, careful not to hit something and hurt you in the process. You break the kiss when you reach the edge of the bed, gasping for air before you push him down on the mattress gently.

  He sits without a fuss, his pupils blown out as he watches you take off your heels and slowly straddle his lap, pushing his coat and tie off slowly. Jack doesn’t blink, he is afraid of even missing one second of tonight. He wants to remember this forever in case…

  No. He shouldn’t go there now, he has you and that is all that matters.

  Jack’s hand comes up to your face, gently caressing your cheek, his thumb going over to your lips as he traces the edge of them while you work on his buttons, finally taking in the sight of his chest.

  He is so mesmerized by the look of pure affection you have that he doesn’t notice you have got him half naked already until you grab his hands and move them to the zipper of your dress.

  “What are we doing?” He bumps his nose into you as he asks, leaning forward to unzip your dress. Your hands roam his naked torso, fingers tracing the soft grey hair on his chest before slowly moving down to his soft belly.

  “Reliving our best memories.”

  Your answer is simple yet effective, and it awakens a deep ache inside him. He understands, he truly does. Your best memories were the ones where you were tangled under his sheets, limbs resting against each other while your mouths left soft traces of love on each other’s skins.

  It might not be the best thing to do with your ex, after six years of no contact, but Jack takes what he can because if he doesn’t, he will lose himself forever.

  You are the last string that attaches him to this life.

  His lips find your shoulders as soon as he pushes the straps of the dress down, kissing the hallow part of your shoulder above your collarbone, sucking in a red mark on the thin skin before he moves upward to your neck, licking your pulse point as he drags his tongue to your jaw.

  You whimper, you fucking whimper, and it makes his head spin with an intensity he had no idea he possessed.  He kisses a path to your lips, breathing your soft breaths while he pushes down the neckline of your dress, pulling back from your mouth only for his gaze to drop down to your chest, breasts covered with a thin strapless bra.

  His brain short circuits when you roll your hips down, grinding against the very painful bulge in his dress pants. His lips part as he huffs out in shock, totally forgetting about his not-so-little problem while he was tasting you.

  “I need you,” he whines, cupping your face in his large palms as he stares into your eyes, “I need you so bad. Please let me have you, please let me pretend I didn’t lose you just for a few hours.”

  “You have me, Jack,” you raise your hands to rest them on top of his, leaning your forehead against, “I need you too.”

  He nods immediately and takes his shirt off completely, watching as you stand up to drop your dress next to your shoes, and for the first time in years, his jaw nearly hits the floor when he finally takes in the sight of your body.

  “Fuck,” it’s a slow gasp, but you hear it perfectly, grinning before you dart toward the hotel’s bathroom, coming out with the pack of condoms in hand. He barks out a laugh when he sees what you are holding, “I’m not that young, we certainly don’t need a whole pack—“

  “Have some faith in yourself, old man,” you grin and watch as he raises his hips and takes his pants and briefs off, his prosthetic leg catching the light of the room. You move to stand in front of his greedy eyes, glancing at his leg before he guides you back onto his lap, “Does it hurt?”

  “No, not right now,” he mutters but it soon turns out into a deep throaty groan when you wrap your fingers around his cock, gently stroking him while you bring the condom to your mouth, tearing it open with your teeth, “That has to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Ready?” You peck his lips, rolling the condom on his cock until it reaches the base, “Cause I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Me neither,” he pushes your panties to the side, swiping his fingers through your folds, dropping his head on your chest when he feels how wet you are, “You are soaked, baby.”

  “All for you,” you whisper as you line his tip with your entrance, slowly lowering yourself as the fat tip breaches your walls, both of you moaning at the contact. 

  He forgot how warm you were, how world-consuming your body felt, but now that he is feeling it all again, he remembers the nights he lost himself in the sensation of your cunt wrapped around him.

  “You’re so big,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into his back as you finally take all of him inside you, “Fuck, I forgot how good you feel.”

  He can’t form a coherent word without looking like he is having a stroke, because fucking hell he might be having one just now. Your cunt is stretched around his cock, and he can feel your pulse around his girth even through the condom.

  “Jack,” you whimper his name, grabbing his jaw so you can look into his eyes as you slowly move your hips in circles. He is pretty sure he already looks so fucked out with his lips ajar and eyes glassy with desire while he has to focus on your face so he doesn’t come too fast and embarrass himself.

  He reaches around you to unclasp your bra without looking away, short breaths falling from his lips as you begin to move up and down, and he successfully manages to get that thing off you before latching his lips to your nipples.

  He closes his eyes and groans when he feels your walls clenching around him as soon as he swirls his tongue around the tightened bud, his hands moving to grab the back of your thighs to help you move faster.

  He is so close, embarrassingly so, because he has been imagining this for so long. Jack clings to you as you ride him faster, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in his head, leaving him panting and dizzy.

  He opens his eyes and finds your head thrown back as you fasten your pace, damp hair sticking to your forehead as you chase your release.

  He is hypnotized by how beautiful you look; his body glistening with sweat and thighs shaking around his hips. He watches closely how you moan loudly when his cock nudges your sweet spot deep inside your core.

  “Fuck, fuck— I’m gonna come,” he groans out the words, and you nod absentmindedly, leaning down to press your lips to his, kissing him as you grind down harder, urging him to let go.

  “Me too, baby,” you gasp against his lips, your body trembling as the knot in your stomach tightens and in a blink, it breaks, waves of euphoria rushing through your veins as you release around him.

  He hugs you close, snapping his hips up one, two, and three times before he buries his face into your neck, groaning from the depths of his throat as he empties his cum into the condom.

  He holds you as he comes, wanting to carve the memory of tonight into his head so he can remember it until his last breath.

  “Jack,” you whisper his name, running your fingers through his curly grey hair, kissing the side of his face as he tries to regain his breath, “Thank you for coming tonight.”

  “Thank you for giving me a chance,” he replies quietly, gently lowering you on the bed before he hovers over you, pulling his softened cock out of your swollen hole, “It’s been a long time…”

  “For me too,” you smile sheepishly, kissing his forehead before you sit up slowly so you can go and clean up, “I’ll go to the bathroom and order room service. What do you wanna have?”

  “Anything, I’m starving,” he smiles, flipping on his back as he watches you walk to the bathroom before he looks up at the ceiling, shuddering as it finally dawns on him what he has done. Sex. With you. After six years of radio silence. After all the arguments, after the farewell you shared at the airport, after him realizing how emotionally closed off he was — is.

  “Bathroom’s yours,” you walk back into the room, reaching for his white shirt on the floor, putting it on before you crawl on top of the bed, kissing him sweetly on the lips a few times before lying down and reaching for the phone on the nightstand.

  He turns on his side, kissing your bare thighs before he stands up and walks to the bathroom to get rid of the used condom. Jack splashes water on his face, shaking his head as he looks at his reflection in the mirror.

  Was it a mistake? Probably. But he doesn’t regret it, not now, not ever. He will forever cherish every moment he spent and will spend with you for a long time, perhaps forever.

  A deep unsettling sadness fills the pit of his stomach suddenly, and he runs a hand down his face when he remembers you will go back to Boston in a few hours. He wants to do something to keep you here, locked away from the world and its demands — just you and him.

  He cleans up quickly before the tears threaten to fill his eyes, washing his hands and wiping the sweat off his body with a damp towel while he walks to the bedroom, reaching for his briefs.

  “Greasy cheese Burger with extra fries, what do you say?” You ask, pulling back the covers on the other side so he can crawl in next to you, but before he has the chance the doorbell rings, “Let me go get it—“

  “Na uh,” he wraps an arm around your waist, pinning you to the bed before he plants a kiss on your nose, “I’ll get it, ain’t no way I’m gonna let anyone see you like this.”

  “Like what?” You sit up on your elbows, dragging your nose against his neck until you reach his lips, not kissing him just hovering while he breathes the warm air that you exhale.

  “All glowing and pretty,” your lips are practically pressed together, but still he doesn’t close the tiny remaining distance, “And in a white shirt only. No, this is mine to enjoy.”

  He smirks and pulls back, chuckling when you whine and drop back on the bed as he gets up to answer the door,  hiding his prosthetic leg as he pulls in the table before he shuts the door.

  “Oh my goodness it smells so good already!” You have moved to the edge of the bed, hands around your legs and head resting on your knees, waiting for him to bring the food to you.

  Jack’s stomach grumbles, making you giggle. He gives you a shy smile before he sits next to you, pushing the table closer to you. He watches as you dig in, taking a huge bite of your burger, moaning at the taste.

  “That good?” He asks, popping up a few fries into his mouth, nodding as the spices fill his tastebuds, “Fuck, yeah. It tastes delicious.”

  It doesn’t take long to finish your meal, but the time is filled with teasing and bantering, sharing bites, and saucy kisses while you eat. 

  What he doesn’t expect is to find himself on his side, with one arm under your head after you both finished your food. It feels… ordinary like he has done it every day, as if it is a routine. Domestic.

  “What happened to us?” He asks like a lost baby, his eyes exploring your face closely; from your lashes to your cheek, down to the soft small hairs on your jaw while he traces a path from your thumb up to your shoulder with his knuckles.

  “Many things,” you sigh, kissing his freckles on his shoulders gently, your hands on his chest as they wander, “You, me, your… your late wife.”

  You reach for his left hand that is touching your arm, pulling it to your face so you can look at the black ring he is still wearing. You twist the metal, and each circle twists his heart.

  He forgot to take it off again.

  “You were not over her back then,” you whisper, scooting closer to rest your head on the crook of his neck, “I don’t think you are now either. We just… became something so… good in a difficult time.”

  “I loved you,” he replies and hides his face in your hair, smelling your comforting scent before he resumes, “I still do. I fucked it all up. I… I wanted you for a lifetime but I wasn’t okay back then. I had lost my wife three years before we met and… and I tried, y’know? I tried to let you in, I tried to open up it just—“

  “I know, Jack, I know,” he lets the tears fall when you cradle his face, pulling him close until he is only a breath away, “I wanted to stay there and watch you heal, but you refused to seek any help, and I couldn’t watch you slip through my fingers any longer than I did.”

  “I’m sorry I ruined it all,” he sobs, tears streaming down his face. He reaches to mimic your position, cupping the side of your head, “I wish I listened, I w-wish I didn’t just… give up like a coward. It was not me, I never give up—“

  “You are not a coward, Jack, look at me,” he forces his eyes open, those bloodshot hazel orbs looking so devastatingly beautiful, “I gave up on you too. I pushed you too hard sometimes, I… I got jealous when you would bring up your wife. I was a fucking dick about it, so no, you didn’t ruin it alone. I had a hand in it too, a big one.”

  “You were in the right though,” he kisses the tears that fall on your cheeks, mumbling against your skin as another sob wrecks through his body, “We were happy together, fuck, how much of an idiot I was to bring up my dead wife when I had you. We could’ve had a future, we could’ve lived together and built a life, but I clawed on the past too hard that I was blinded.”

  “I loved you from a distance for the past six years,” you whisper, pecking his lips gently, “Boston… it felt lifeless without you in it. It’s not the city that holds my heart, it’s just a passing location in life. You made this city shine brighter in the mornings, made the coffee taste sweeter, but at the same time… nothing was truly okay here.”

  “It feels like a distant dream when you talk about it,” he shuffles downward a little until he can rest his head on your chest, “But we were in love, why didn’t it make a difference?”

  “Because love isn’t enough,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tightly as he cries softly into the shirt you are wearing, “Sleep, baby, you probably haven’t had more than a few hours to rest. I’ll wake you when I have to leave.”

  He wakes up with dread even though you are kissing his head and cooing at him. You are leaving, again. He has to let go of you for the second time, and it fills him with so much agony that his leg begins to hurt.

  “Hey, honey,�� you angle his head so you can plant a kiss on his lips, grinning down at him as he blinks sleepily, “You slept like a baby.”

  “How long?” He grumbles and hides his face into your stomach, “Don’t wanna get up…”

  “Me neither,” you reply, and he can hear the pure sadness in your voice, but he doesn’t make any move to get up, instead his hands go under your shirt — his technically — so he can grope your waist, “But my flight is in an hour and a half…”

  “I slept the whole night?” He ignores your last sentence, sitting up slightly, keeping his weight on his forearm next to your chest, “I’m sorry, I—“

  “Hey, don’t be sorry!” You pull him down so he hovers over you, playing with the tiny curly hair on the nape of his neck, “I loved it. It reminded me of the time when you’d fall asleep on top of me after a rough shift. It felt so good to sleep with you again.”

  “I haven’t had a good night's sleep until… until tonight,” he confesses quietly, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips, but when he wants to deepen it, you push him away gently with your hands on his chest. He looks down at you, confused and a bit hurt, “What?”

  “Jack…” he watches you swallow the words down as best as possible, but at the end of the day, you have to utter them somehow before it is too late, “I have to go now, I’ll miss my flight.”

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  His eyes water as soon as the words fall from his lips. He truly doesn’t want you to go, he needs you here, with him, in his bed, in his clothes. He breathes better when you are with him, he can think, and he can live.

  “I don’t want to go either,” you wipe the tears that stream down your face, “But I can’t stay, not when I have a life in Boston. Maybe one day I’ll come back, hell, maybe I’ll come back for my fellowship, but… for now, I have to go.”

  “We can get you a position in PTMC, I can talk to Gloria myself—“

  “Jack,” the way you utter his name breaks his heart into a million pieces, because he knows, deep down he knows he has to let you go. He has been denying it for hours, but in the end, he knows there is no way he can keep you here.

  “I’ll drive you there then,” he moves to the edge of the bed, taking off his prosthetic as the tears fall down softly. He begins massaging his leg slowly as you get up and pack your things, still only in his white shirt and nothing more.

  You look strikingly gorgeous; hair unruly, bare thighs, puffy face from all the crying, and he thinks he has never seen something more surreal.

  “Wait,” you halt in your step when he reaches for his coat on the floor, pulling out his phone before he takes a quick photo of you.

  “What was that?” You chuckle, moving toward your luggage to drop everything you own in it while you see Jack staring at his screen, “Baby?”

  “I… I wanted to have something from you to look at later,” he explains, his voice barely above whispers, “For when I miss you.”

  You suck in a sharp breath, he hears it clearly. But you don’t turn around toward him after it, probably shocked to your core by how raw and emotional he sounds.

  After taking out the clothes you wanna wear for your departure, you walk to Jack, standing between his legs as you slowly unbutton his shirt, taking off the fabric before you hand it to him — the last thing you had touched from his belongings.

  He takes it without a word, wearing it before he puts his prosthetic leg back on, trying his best not to break apart at how his shirt now smells like you. He won’t wash this again, he would hang this behind his door so he can smell it daily before he goes to the hospital.

  You get ready in thick silence, an uncomfortable one that you both know will break ten times worse than before eventually, and that it will lead to something far too devastating than anything you have experienced.

  He grabs your luggage, hand reaching to hold yours as he guides you out of the hotel room after you check it multiple times in case you missed something. You walk together, shoulder to shoulder, ride the elevator down by your head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you.

  Jack watches as you check out, smiling and thanking the receptionist before coming back to him with a tired look on your face. He knows how you must be feeling, he feels even worse than you, because suddenly it is six years ago as he watches you pack your bags and ride to the airport together.

  He drives you there himself, muscle memory he thinks bitterly, with his hand on your thigh and your fingers caressing the freckled skin. He doesn’t wanna break the bubble you are in, he doesn’t wanna believe he is seeing you go again. He can turn the wheel and drive to his place, he thinks about it too, but he knows you are not ready yet, and he isn’t ready either.

  He looks down at his wedding band shining under the sunlight. The memories of your tears over this black ring rush into his mind, and he takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart — he isn’t ready for sure.

  He wants to say something, anything as he helps you through the airport, but he can’t, he doesn’t dare to utter a word and he hopes that his actions and eyes are showing what he hopes to say.

  “Don’t go,” these are the only two words he manages to let out as you look at him, hearing how your flight’s boarding has started through the speakers, “Please don’t go.”

  “I have to, Jack—“

  “No, no you don’t have to!” He presses his lips together tightly, his cheeks flushed and eyes red, “You just- just have to stay here, with me, be my Clementine again—“

  “You still use that stupid nickname?” You give him a watery laugh, cupping his face before you press your lips to his, muffling his sobs as best as you can, feeling how your tears mix together and fall on your chins.

  “Yeah, of course,” he kisses you back quickly, like he is in a rush to win a game, an endless competition with no victory, “I know you fucking hate it—“

  “I love it, I love you,” you peck his mouth again, “But this is where we need to part ways, Jack. It’s in our faith it seems.”

  “Curel fucking faith,” he bumps his nose into yours, hands clutching your hips so tightly as if you would vanish if he loses his grip, “I love you, too.”

  “Reach out to me when you forget to put your ring on,” you step back, letting his hands fall to his sides, “Find me when you don’t need to go to that rooftop, I’ll be waiting for you, even if it takes ten or twenty years.”

  And Jack watches you leave again, the same way you did six years ago, from the same spot. He watches you take his heart to another city, leaving him with an empty aching chest for an eternity.

  The next day, he walks toward the same staircase that leads toward the rooftop while twisting his ring, but it is not his late wife he is thinking about; it’s you.

  Today may not be the day, but someday he will find you, he is sure of it.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Babysitting Little Nero With Dante

Dante X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes, steam, cuteness overload, fluff

Word Count: 2.4k

(A/N:) Finally got time to write today! Life has been so busy that it has been hard to sit down and write. But I made time today cause this needed to see the light of day! It's been swimming around my brain for like two weeks now and it was just too cute not to write! I'm still on my DMC/Dante kick! So enjoy this imagine that turned into this monster! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Naps in his chair at his desk were special to Dante. His office was his home and it was the place he could be himself more than anywhere else. So when jobs were few and far between you could find him in the Devil May Cry office napping, playing pool, or jamming to his favorite tunes. At this very moment with his feet kicked up and a magazine covering his face, Dante was sleeping his life away. Well he was until the phone started ringing startling him from sleep. Dante sat up with a snort, the magazine falling to the floor before he reached for the handset and rubbing at his sleep filled eye.

"Devil may cry," he mumbled with a yawn.

"Caught you napping didn't I," you teased from the other end. "What kind of business you running Dante."

"Babe," Dante yawned again, "I thought you were still here with me. Why are you calling?"

"Can't a girl go out on the town and have some fun while her lazy husband sleeps his life away," you giggled.

"You could have woken me up if you wanted to go somewhere," Dante replied.

"It's okay. You do have a tough job and you looked so cute sleeping in your chair I couldn't bear to wake you up. But I called you to tell you that I'm bringing home a surprise."

"Strawberry ice cream?"

You had to laugh at Dante's hopeful tone and you hated to disappoint him, "No not ice cream and not pizza either."

Dante deflated in his chair and pout pulling at his lips as he continued to press the receiver to his ear. "Then what's the point of you coming home?"

"Okay now that was just rude," you scolded. "No I wanted to let you know that I have a guest coming back with me. So I need you to put all your pointy and shooty things away. It's too dangerous leaving them in reach of our guest. So if you would be a dear, anything that can kill or maim needs to be put away. I won't be long so I'll see you in a little bit Dante."

"Babe wait," Dante scrambled to get you to answer him. "What are you...."

The other line went dead and Dante was left with the dial tone buzzing in his ear. He set the handset back in the cradle and rubbed a hand down his face. Everyone thought that he was the spontaneous one (which he was) but you had your moments, leaving Dante stunned. He rose to go do as you ask but he couldn't help but run around in circles trying to figure out what you had cooked up while he had been sleeping. Removing Rebellion from it's spot on the wall and strapping Ebony and Ivory to his back Dante set them in the bedroom before going back for the Sparda sword. He was just closing the bedroom door when he heard the office door open.

"Dante I'm home," you called as you removed your coat.

Dante couldn't help but feel a little nervous as he rounded the corner and what he saw was the last thing he ever expected. You were bent over trying to help Nero out of his coat, the little boy pouting a little bit as he took in the drabby surroundings.

"So this is the surprise," Dante asked as he stood before you before turning his gaze down to his brother's son.

"Surprise," you took Nero's hand and pressed a kiss to Dante's cheek. "Vergil called while you were asleep. I answered and he asked for help watching Nero. I agreed immediately cause Vergil sounded like he was in a little distress."

"You mean to tell me that my brother doesn't have a babysitter for his only spawn?"

You glared and Dante knew immediately that he messed up, "Excuse me? He is our nephew and I know how you feel about your brother but think for one second if we needed help with any of your kids would Vergil help."

"No," Dante retorted, "and I wouldn't ask him in the first place!"

You sighed tightening your grip on Nero's little hand. His blue eyes going back and forth as you and Dante argued.

"It's okay Nero your uncle loves you. He's just stupid," you yelled behind your shoulder and Dante replied by sticking his tongue out at you. Which you returned the gesture but you added a disappointed glare to the mix. Dante stood there for a moment interlacing his fingers together behind his head as he contemplated what just happened. Guilt began to gnaw at him as he thought back to the confused look Nero had given him. Sure Dante's relationship with Vergil was rocky at best but he shouldn't compare the kid to his father. Dante sighed and rubbed at this neck before walking where you had disappeared with Nero.

He hadn't seen Nero in awhile and Dante knew that in this moment of life was crucial for them to have a good bond later. And he didn't want to make you mad either and he could tell that you had been disappointed in him when he had said such things. So he knew that he had to do the right thing and that was apologize to both you and Nero. Stepping through the kitchen Dante noticed that you had made an improvised booster seat out of old phone books for Nero at the small kitchen table. You sat right beside him as you had laid out different coloring books, crayons, cards, and board games for you both to play. Nero focused intently on his coloring page before you asked him for a particular crayon only for him to give you one that you didn't ask for.

"Nero this isn't purple," you spoke gently not wanting to upset the boy. "This is blue."

"I know," Nero replied. "I think it would look better colored in blue."

You laughed and shook your head at the Sparda genes making themselves known, "Fair enough."

Dante cleared his throat causing two sets of eyes to stare in his direction. He scuffed his boot on the floor, "I'm sorry for the way I acted. Can I color too?"

You looked back towards Nero, "What do you think? Should we let Uncle Dante join in on all the fun?"

Nero seemed to contemplate the choice before he nodded in agreement. Dante pulled up a chair sitting on the other side of Nero at the table. You ripped out a sheet in the coloring book you were working in and handed it to Dante before tossing him a box of crayons.

"Best coloring gets to pick the movie tonight," you challenged and Nero came alive. His focus intensified and you winked to Dante who chuckled.

"So Nero," Dante finally spoke after a few seconds had passed. "How old are you now?"

"Six," Nero replied not looking up from his coloring.

"Wow! Big man huh? Do you like playing cards?"

Nero shrugged.

"Know how to play poker," Dante asked next.

"Dante," you scolded.

"What?! I was just asking," Dante pouted and you sighed.

Nero won the coloring contest so tonight he could pick out the movie you all would watch. Then you, Nero, and Dante played a few rounds of Go Fish with the deck of cards you had bought. But it was becoming apparent that the Sparda men were starting to become restless. While Nero had Vergil's DNA you could tell that he had some Dante as they both had a lot of energy to burn. A trip to the park was the perfect solution for both boys you had apparently volunteered to babysit.

"Nero would you like to go to the park," you asked after you had tidied up the mess you all had made of the kitchen table.

"I wanna go to the park," Dante shouted peeking back into the kitchen.

You laughed, "I was asking Nero. But I will take your vote under consideration."

"Yes," Nero answered nodding his head excitedly.

"To the park then," you announced before trying to keep both Nero and Dante from running out the front door.

Walking the streets of Redgrave made you wary as you weren't ignorant of the things that lived in it's shadows. You held onto Nero's hand tightly while Dante held the other hand. With Nero between you both, you wanted to keep him safe and secure. You knew how the demons felt about Sparda just from the times you had seen Dante fight against them. With Nero just being a child he was innocent and helpless against the creatures of evil. Dante seemed to sense your thoughts as he had Ebony and Ivory strapped under his coat and his blue gaze held yours. He nodded in agreement that nothing would harm either of you. But you didn't want to think about anything horrifying happening as you wanted to focus on Nero having a good time with both you and Dante.

The park wasn't overly crowded at this time of day and it made you feel better because with less bustle you could keep a better eye on Nero. It made you feel better too that Dante was on the playground with Nero. Going down the slide and helping his nephew with the monkey bars. You laughed at all the antics especially when Dante launched himself off the swings only to not stick the landing as his boots had slipped in the loose rocks. His pride more wounded than his rear, Dante sulked back to sit beside you on the bench.

"Did baby get a boo boo," you cooed ruffling his long silver hair.

"Just my pride," Dante answered. "You can kiss my boo boos better though at a later time and in private." He smirked causing your cheeks to flush.

"Naughty boy," you retorted before going back to keeping an eye on Nero.

"Hey Nero when we're done we'll go for pizza and ice cream," Dante shouted causing you to shake your head at his nephew's enthusiastic celebration. There was definitely some Dante floating around in Nero's DNA.

"And earlier you didn't wany any part of taking care of him," you glared.

"I'm looking at this with the grandparents' philosophy," Dante answered haughtily.

"And what is that philosophy oh wise Dante?"

"Load 'em up with sugar and send 'em back home," Dante grinned.

"No wonder Vergil barely tolerates you. You're not his grandpa Dante, you're Nero's uncle," you glanced away for one second to shoot at glare at your husband.

"Yeah I am," he nodded. "his one and only. Congratulations kid! Besides it's the ultimate form of telling my brother screw you than a sugar overloaded kid that refuses to go to sleep."

You shook your head, completely exasperated with your husband.

A couple play filled hours later and Nero was completely tuckered out. Dante went and got pizza and ice cream to go while you carried Nero back home. His soft breathing stirring your hair as he cuddled into the side of your neck. Your heart melted as you stroked his silver hair. So much like his father and uncle but still so different. You couldn't help but wonder what having a child with Dante would be like. He never seemed interested though. You couldn't help but wonder if the incident that had happened in his childhood had to do with it. You figured it was the main reason, but you never pushed Dante and you respected his wishes. He did the same for you as well, that's why your marriage worked so well.

Back at the Devil May Cry office, you laid Nero on the couch as you waited for Dante to get home with the food. You set up an area so Nero could eat at the coffee table in front of the TV and there would be enough room for the pizza boxes and drinks. Dante strolled in a few minutes later and you took the tubs of ice cream and showed him where to put everything else. Once he sat them down he knelt beside the sleeping Nero and starting to try to get him to wake up.

"Hey buddy," Dante shook him gently. "Foods here. It's time for you to pick a movie."

Nero stirred and you made your way back into the room with them. Nero chose Monsters Inc. and as Dante started the movie, you made Nero's plate and poured him some soda. Before the movie was over the food had been annihilated and Nero was once again passed out on the couch, though this time sporting a stylish strawberry ice cream mustache. While Dante switched off the TV you took a wet rag and cleaned Nero's face. Just as you were finishing up a knock came from the front door.

"Gotta be Verg," Dante walked to the door. "He's the only one that would knock."

Vergil was standing on the other side of the door and he looked more weary than when you had saw him earlier when you picked up Nero from him.

"Thank you for watching him," Vergil nodded at you, completely ignoring his brother.

"What? No hello kiss for your little brother," Dante teased.

"Dante," you scolded. "Don't torture your brother." You turned to Vergil after scooping Nero in your arms. "It was no trouble I enjoy having Nero around. Dante does too though he probably won't admit it."

Dante rolled his eyes while you passed the sleeping Nero to his father. Vergil nodded before he started to leave.

"Wait," Dante's voice stopped his twin cold. Dante took in his sleeping nephew's form before kissing his little forehead. "Be good kid."

With a nod from Vergil, Dante shut the door after Vergil had left. He seemed to deflate before yawning and stretching.

"Well that was fun," he bounced back quickly.

"You exhaust me," you groaned. "I'm going to bed."

Dante chased after you, scooping you up and causing you to yell.

"You promised me that you would make my boo boos feel better," Dante wiggled his brows.

"Not in a million years Sparda spawn," you pinched his cheeks before Dante deposited you onto the bed. He slammed the door shut and pounced causing you to squeal.

You squished his cheeks while forcing him away from your sensitive neck, "I love you."

Dante grinned, "I love you too. Let's take care of the little Vergil spawn more often."

"Nero," you corrected though you couldn't help but giggle. "And yes lets."

[allmightstoehair]

continuation oneshot from argument with bakugo post 😊requested by @ch3rryjampi3!

GENRE: smau || oneshot || kinda short

ignore the times!

You stared at the last line for longer than you’d ever admit. Your thumb hovered over the screen to shoot him a ‘fuck off’ text, but something about it made your eyebrows crease. Bakugo never pleaded. Never asked for anything from you. With reluctance, your frame lifted off of the couch and you hauled yourself to your feet. The show that was playing on the TV in front of you no longer had your attention. With a sigh sharp enough to slice through your pride, you pushed yourself off the couch. Whatever show was playing in front of you had long since faded into white noise, just like the buzz of conversation around the common room. Kaminari laughed too loudly at something on his phone. Mina was curled up beside Sero, giggling over a video. But none of it touched you. Your thoughts were already three floors up, standing outside Bakugo’s door. The walk was quiet. Too quiet. You were hyperaware of the way your socks barely made a sound on the dorm floors, of how fast your heart was beating despite the silence.

You didn’t bother knocking. Not when the door creaked open the second you raised your hand.

He was already there—like he’d been standing on the other side, waiting. His shoulders were tense, arms crossed, lips parted like he was halfway through a sentence he couldn’t start. He looked at you like he wasn’t sure you’d actually come.

“…Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Hey,” you replied, just as flat.

He moved aside wordlessly, letting you in. The room was clean. Of course it was. Everything in its place, because that’s how he tried to keep control. Even when his temper frayed, even when things spiraled, Bakugo kept his space neat—like he could make order out of chaos if he folded a blanket just right. “Look. I’ve been…thinkin’ about it. Talked to the idiots. And I don’t like how I feel without you. I know I—“ he doesn’t usually talk as calm as he is right now, so he clears his throat. It’s scratchy from yelling all the time and he’s not used to actually talking. “I was a dick. After I got kidnapped by the League…I pushed you away because I was scared. I wasn’t ready for love. For your love.” He grunted softly.

“It—just the idea of it scared the hell out of me. It wasn’t fair to you and I’m…sorry or whatev…” He stopped himself, narrowing his eyes. “I’m sorry.” Your eyes trailed over his body language. It wasn’t like anything you had seen in Bakugo, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Your lips twitched into a frown and you sighed.

“….I—I appreciate it, kats-uki. I really do, but you know it’s not going to fix everything.” Your voice trailed and you refused to use the nickname you had given him. He huffs and he nods, looking up to glare at you like you were trying to be Captain Obvious.

“tchyeah, I know that. but you should know it all anyway. better than keeping you…in the dark.” he shrugs.

You run a hand over your arm and roll your shoulders back. The words jumbled up and you didn’t know what to really say to him. You weren’t broken up, just…on a break? Still, that didn’t mean you’d jump right back into things so soon. “So what does this mean?…”

“I dunno,” he admitted, voice low and rough. “I ain’t expectin’ you to come runnin’ back. I just…”

He took a step forward, slow and careful, like you were something fragile. And in his own way, he was too. “I just needed you to know I’m trying. Not ‘cause I want you to drop it or forgive me right away. But because you deserve the effort.”

Your lips parted slightly, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. “I don’t want this to be the end,” he said. “But if you do… if you’re done… I’ll back off.”

“…No..,” you said finally, and his eyes snapped to yours. “But I need time.”

“Mnn..” he nods and figures he shouldn’t step any closer. He’ll give you all the time you need. He can wait.

[pucking-rowdy]

[3.1k]

blowing smoke (3/?)

pairing: luke hughes x childhood best friend!reader, ethan edwars x fem!reader summary: your reconciliation with luke starts to affect your relationship with ethan in unrepairable ways.

warnings: underage drinking, cheating notes: sorry this took forever!! my semester is finally over who cheered!! also i had no idea how to summarize this part so sorry that the summary sucks

part one | part two

unedited

the hughes' house always felt like a time warp during the winter.

slow mornings with pancakes and snow-frosted windows, movie marathons that stretch into late afternoons, and quiet evenings where the hum of a hockey game on tv fills the background of naps on the couch with the boys. the days seemed to blend together.

it's been three days since that night in the kitchen with luke.

three days since luke rested his head on your shoulder like it meant something. since you didn’t text ethan back right away. since you started to feel that pull again, the one you’d spent so long trying to bury under other boys and forced laughter and the lie that things hadn’t already changed.

you hadn't talked about it, not really.

you’ve caught him watching you more. lingering glances across the living room. sitting next to you at breakfast even when there were other open chairs. finding reasons to be near you, like everything was still normal.

it's subtle, but you caught it.

you’re in the basement now, sprawled on the couch with a throw blanket around your legs. luke's sitting beside you, legs stretched out, half-watching the mighty ducks playing on the screen.

the silence stretches, but not uncomfortably. luke leans his head against the back of the couch, and his voice comes out of nowhere.

“i heard from emma today,” luke says, his voice low as he glances toward you.

you sit up slightly, surprised by the sudden thought. “oh? how’s she doing?”

he shrugs, though you catch the way his jaw tightens. “she’s fine. i think she’s just frustrated with me.”

you nod. “she’s always frustrated with you.”

luke laughs softly, but it’s hollow. “yeah, well… i don’t blame her. i haven’t exactly been the easiest person to read lately.”

"you’re not the only one, you know,” you say quietly. your words hang between you two, like something heavier than just casual conversation.

luke looks at you, his gaze intense. “yeah,” he mutters, glancing away again. “maybe I’m not the only one who’s been… confused.”

your chest tightens. you want to ask what he means, but you don’t. The words are just too heavy on your tongue.

instead, you shift uncomfortably on the couch, crossing your arms as you watch the flickering light of the tv screen. “i think everyone’s a little confused right now,” you say, more to yourself than him.

“yeah. i guess we’re all just trying to figure it out.”

the silence stretches, comfortable but full of things left unsaid. luke leans back, his arm brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, it feels like everything might just settle into place again.

“so, about ethan…” luke says suddenly, his voice soft.

you swallow, unsure of where this is going. “what about him?”

"are you...happy with him?" he asks. his voice is calm, but there's an underlying tension that makes you wonder if the question was more than just his curiosity. it's like he's waiting for something, bracing himself for what you might say.

you don't hesitate.

"yeah," the words spill out easier than you expect.

the air shifts. luke takes a breath, letting it out slowly as if that's what he'd been expecting you to say.

"yeah," he says, "that's all that matters then."

you don’t know what to say to that. a part of you wants to reach out, to tell him that everything’s okay, that this doesn’t change anything. but something inside you knows that it does change things, in ways you’re not sure either of you is ready to admit.

the silence drapes over you both again, a heavy blanket you can’t shake off. luke leans forward, running a hand through his hair in a familiar way.

“i’m not good at this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “not good at… talking about stuff. not good at… this.”

you feel a pang in your chest, a mixture of sympathy and something else, something that feels too much like longing to ignore.

“i know,” you reply softly, your voice steady. "you never have been."

“i just don’t want things to change, you know? but I think... I think they already have.” He turns to look at you then, his gaze almost searching, almost pleading. “i don’t mean to make it harder, but it’s like... i can’t stop thinking about it.”

your heart beats a little faster at his confession, and for the first time, you feel the full weight of what you’ve both been avoiding. there’s something unspoken between you, and it’s not just about ethan or emma. it’s the way luke’s eyes linger on you. something's slipping through your fingers, something you can’t name.

"i don't want things to change either."

luke’s eyes soften, and for a second, the distance between you both feels like it might close. but then he shifts, standing up, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he looks away.

"guess we'll just have to figure it out," he says.

"yeah," your voice is soft as he turns to leave, "guess we will."

and with that, the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone with the lingering tension.

-

the snow hasn’t melted yet.

it clings to the edges of the sidewalks and the metal railings outside your building, gray and half-frozen, a stubborn reminder that winter isn’t entirely over, even if classes are starting again, even if life is supposed to go back to normal.

your dorm room is just how you left it: a little stale, a little cold. emma isn’t back yet, which gives you a moment to breathe, to sit on your bed and settle.

you pull your phone out of your pocket and glance at the screen. a few unread messages. one from ethan, a few hours old: "you back on campus yet? want to grab coffee later?"

you should feel excited to see him, and maybe part of you is. but there’s a weird kind of ache in your chest that lingers.

luke hasn’t texted you since he left the basement that night.

outside your window, students are hauling suitcases up the steps and brushing snow off their jackets. campus is waking up again, loud and fast and familiar. you don’t feel entirely present, like you’ve left some part of yourself sitting on the hughes’ living room couch.

there's a knock on the door, sharp and quick.

you startle, sliding off the bed to open it.

it’s not luke. of course it’s not.

it’s ethan, his cheeks red from the cold, holding two paper cups of coffee. “hey,” he says, smiling. “figured you'd be back by now.”

you let him in. he presses a warm cup of coffee into your hands. it's made just the way you like it, and your heart clenches at the thought of ethan memorizing you.

"i missed you," he grins, clutching your empty hand as he sits on your bed. you smile softly back, hoping it looks genuine.

"i missed you too."

and maybe that's true.

but when he kisses you, your eyes flutter shut and the first image that comes to your mind is not of him. it’s the soft plush of a basement couch. the flicker of a hockey game on tv. the sound of a voice you've been hearing for days:

“guess we’ll just have to figure it out.”

you don’t know what to do with that yet.

so you let ethan kiss you, slow and full of adoration.

his hand traces lazy circles over your back as you lay on his chest, listening to him talk about practice starting up again, how coach already sent out the conditioning schedule, how rutger forgot his skates over break and is now “a menace to society until UPS comes through.”

you laugh, soft and real. it's easy to let ethan fill the silence, because he's always been good at it, always known how to crack a joke and make things feel lighter when your chest is heavy.

eventually, the conversation dies and he looks at you carefully.

"are you okay?"

you nod a little too quickly.

"i mean it. you've been a little quiet since i came in. is everything good?" he presses, voice softer and filled with a quiet concern.

"i'm just tired," you say, forcing a smile, "long drive."

he nods slowly, like he wants to believe you.

-

you’re back in the rink.

the bleachers are mostly empty, save for a few other girlfriends and stragglers scattered around. you pull your scarf tighter around your neck as you watch the boys skate drills, the sound of blades slicing ice oddly comforting.

ethan catches your eye a few times, tossing you a wink, a grin, mouthing something you can’t quite catch. it makes you smile.

you sit in your usual spot, legs curled beneath you, the chill of the metal bleachers settling in slowly. most of the boys are filtering off the ice now, tugging off gloves and bumping each other on the way to the tunnel.

luke's still out there.

he skates slow laps, his helmet off and damp curls sticking to his forehead. eventually, he skates towards the bench and his eyes meet yours for the first time. surprise flickers across his face for a moment.

"you looked good out there," you offer. it's true, he always looks good on the ice.

"thanks," the blades of his skates scratch against the concrete as he shifts his weight.

"you okay?"

his jaw tightens, "i don't know."

“i miss being your person,” he says, the words falling out of him like he’s been holding them in too long.

“i miss it too,” you admit.

he just nods.

the ice crew starts to enter at the other end of the rink, the loud whirr of the zamboni humming to life.

“you should go. it's freezing in here,” he says, trying for a light tone that doesn’t quite land.

you don’t move.

“luke,” you say gently, but he shakes his head.

“i know,” he says, and finally looks at you again. “we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

you jump a bit as an arm wraps around your shoulders. ethan gives luke a nod, speaking softly in your ear. "ready to go?"

you nod, your eyes still locked on luke.

luke gives you the faintest smile, tired, but real. “see you tomorrow?”

“yeah. tomorrow.”

-

you're lying on ethan's bed, feet dangling off the edge, scrolling on your phone as you try to ignore the muffled music and laughter from downstairs.

his room smells like him. clean laundry, spearmint gum, and the faint, lingering trace of his body wash. the comforter beneath you is slightly rumpled. there’s a red bull can on the nightstand. a hoodie draped over the chair.

it’s quiet up here. safe, almost. but your chest still feels tight.

the door opens with a creak and ethan steps inside. he’s holding two bottles of gatorade, and a half-eaten sleeve of oreos tucked under his arm. his hair’s still a little damp from his post-practice shower. he looks warm and familiar and unfairly beautiful.

"there you are," he says softly. "you okay?"

you nod, not trusting your voice. he flops down beside you, handing you a blue gatorade. he opens the oreos, offering you one without taking his eyes off the ceiling. “so what’s the real reason you ghosted the party? avoiding the mark and rutger beer pong rematch?"

you laugh and nod. he nudges your shoulder, "you missed some quality entertainment."

you bite into the cookie slowly. “just needed air. it’s loud down there.”

ethan makes a dramatic mm-hmm sound like he’s analyzing your soul. “you’re emotionally dodging. classic tactic. i can see right through you.”

“can you?” you ask, raising a brow.

he turns toward you, propping himself up on his elbow. “yep. i took a psych elective, remember? c’s get degrees, baby.”

that pulls a real laugh out of you. he grins at you, like he’s trying to make you laugh just a little longer.

but then it fades, just slightly. his expression shifts.

"i’m not trying to make you talk about stuff,” he says, voice gentler now. “i know it’s… a lot. whatever it is.”

you look at him, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite touch your eyes. “i know, eddy. i just… need a little space to figure it out.”

he nods, his expression softening with understanding, though there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. he doesn’t press, just sits there with you, quiet and patient.

“okay,” he says finally, his voice warm but laced with something you can’t quite place. “whenever you’re ready, i’m here.”

you smile softly, nudging him with your shoulder. he smiles back, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you let out a breath, relieving the tension in your chest for just this moment.

-

the bar is buzzing with energy, packed to the brim with teammates, friends, and fans celebrating the big win. the sound of clinking glasses, laughter, and music fills the air as the team takes over one corner of the bar, trying to drown out the exhaustion of the game with loud cheers and round after round of drinks. the night is still young, and everyone is in high spirits.

you’re at the bar with luke, leaning against the wooden counter, your second vodka redbull in your hand. the tension between you two momentarily forgotten thanks to the alcohol coursing through your body. your eyes drift over to the group of guys across the room, all of them laughing, exchanging stories from the game, their voices blending together like background noise.

luke, his hair messy and a grin plastered on his face, is already a little tipsy, and you can tell by the way his arm hangs loosely over the back of your chair. it feels easy, comfortable, like this is what you’ve always done: hang out with luke after a big game, celebrating together.

"you played so good tonight," you lean over, making sure your voice carries over the noise.

luke shrugs, his grin playful. "wasn't just me. whole team showed up tonight," he takes a sip of his drink. "but i'll take some credit if you're offering."

you roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. there's something infectious about his energy tonight, something that draws you in. you've spent enough time with luke to know that his confidence, even while drunk, has a way of sinking its claws in you.

a few rounds of shots later, you find yourself laughing harder than you should, leaning into luke’s side more than is probably appropriate, but it feels nice. it feels normal.

"come on, let’s go dance,” luke suddenly suggests, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the dance floor, where a few of the guys are already showing off. you let him drag you, not bothering to protest as you giggle, your feet stumbling slightly from the drinks in your system.

on the dance floor, the music is loud and the beat heavy, the room pulsing with energy. you and luke move in sync, your laughter mixing with the music. his hand is on your waist now, and the closeness feels familiar. something shifts in the air between you two. there’s an electricity now, a pull that wasn’t there before. it’s the alcohol, maybe, but it feels different tonight.

luke leans in close, his face inches from yours. you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat as his eyes lock onto yours. without thinking, you reach up, brushing your hand against the side of his neck. The touch is gentle, tentative, but he leans into it, his lips almost brushing against yours.

then it happens. his lips are on yours, soft but urgent, as if he’s been holding back for far too long. you kiss him back, a little hesitant at first, but it quickly deepens, the taste of alcohol and the buzz from the night mixing together.

you don’t know when exactly it happened, but you’ve crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed.

when you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, a little dazed. you blink, trying to regain some sense of clarity.

then, from the corner of your eye, you catch movement. you turn just in time to see ethan standing by the bar, his eyes locked onto the two of you. his expression is unreadable, his jaw tight.

he doesn’t move, doesn’t approach. he just stands there, staring, like he’s been frozen in place. the weight of his gaze hits you like a punch to the gut. you can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the hurt in his eyes is unmistakable.

"shit," you mumble, tearing away from luke.

luke follows your gaze, his face falling as he spots ethan.

"fuck," he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

before you can do anything, ethan turns and walks out of the bar, his shoulders stiff, his back to you. you watch him leave, the door swinging shut behind him with a finality that feels like something you can’t undo.

“i think... i think i should go,” you say quietly, your voice tight. “i need to figure this out.”

luke nods slowly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “yeah. you should... take care of that."

with a final glance at him, you make your way toward the door, your heart heavy, your head spinning from the mix of emotions and alcohol.

the air outside is sobering, biting at your skin as you step out into the dim parking lot of the bar. you spot ethan almost immediately, his back to you, shoulders rigid and hands deep in his pocket as he stands by the curb.

"ethan," you say quietly, almost pleading. that's all it takes to make him turn to you. his eyes meet yours; there's something hollow and wounded beneath them.

"so that’s what we’re doing now?” he asks, his voice steady but low, like he’s trying not to crack. there’s no accusation in his tone, just disbelief, the kind that stings more than if he’d yelled.

“i didn’t mean for it to happen,” you say, the words tasting useless.

“but you let it,” he snaps back. “you didn’t stop it.”

and he’s right. you could’ve pulled away. you could’ve stepped back. but you didn’t.

“i’ve been here,” he says, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “trying. showing up. and you still-” he stops himself, shaking his head. “you still look at him like that.”

"stop holding onto me if you’re not going to stay,” he continues, not cruel, just tired. “i deserve more than being the thing you settle for when you’re not sure.”

you nod slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat, "you're right. i'm sorry."

he doesn’t wait for anything more, turning and walking off in the direction of his home, leaving you behind. and this time, you let him go.

[breakmeoff]

The Boy Next Door │ 7

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader (featuring all of skz except seungmin)

warnings: swearing, suggestive dialogue, angst, crack, fluff... think that's it?

word count: 2.7k

synopsis: chris returns to seoul and is coming to reality with how difficult being with you physically might be. prepping for the second part of the tour, he comes up with some new ideas and you surprise him with some news of your own.

note: sorry it took me a while to get this one out - was trying to figure out how to move forward. i have tons of thoughts for things further down the road, but hopefully you enjoy this one in the meantime. thx for reading :)

Masterlist

The overnight flight back to Seoul from Australia was grueling, over 13 hours of travel time door to door.  Chris had gotten used to the non-stop flight from Sydney years ago, but now with the extra hour plus flight from Melbourne at the beginning of his trip, he was starting to come to terms with the reality of their unfortunate logistical situation.

The idea of a quick, turn-around jaunt over for the weekend would be hard to manage once, let alone on a frequent basis.  Being in the middle of the tour, literally across the globe from where you were, would make it even that much more difficult.  

The only benefit Chris could come up with from the long flight home was that it gave him time to write.  Despite the luxe seating in business class and the capabilities of reclining his seat to sleep, his brain was working on overdrive.

Once his flight landed at Incheon shortly after 9am the next morning, Chris asked his driver to take him directly to the studio.  At this point, he was running purely on adrenaline and hadn’t slept since leaving your apartment almost 24 hours before.

Dropping his carry-on in the corner of the room, he fell back into one of the overstuffed chairs at the producer’s table with a heavy sigh.  Glancing to the clock on the wall out of the corner of his eye, he calculated he had about two hours before his bandmates would show up and any hope of focusing would be out the window.

Those two hours went by in the blink of an eye before Changbin and Han burst through the door, arguing over whether the receptionist's name in the front was named Ji-yoo or Ji-goo.  

“Han, seriously, who would name their child intellect and?  That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard… her name is absolutely Ji-yoo, you moron,” Changbin chided, looking at his phone as he stumbled into the space.  

Han groaned, tired of arguing with his friend but glancing over to the table he saw Chris passed out.  “Hyung,” he said quietly, grabbing Changbin by the sleeve of his shirt, giving it a soft tug before he pointed over to their leader.

Slumped over the desk, with his cheek to the notepad below him, his lips parted just slightly and the tiniest bit of drool slipping out his mouth, Chris was out. 

A few other voices became audible from the hall as I.N. and Hyunjin came in shortly after and Changbin turned to them quickly, lifting his finger to his lips to quiet them down.  

The four of them stood there by the door, looking between each other and Chris, trying to decide what to do.  His sleeping problems were widely known, and the fact that he was actually asleep right now was shocking.  

I.N. was the first to whisper, “...should we wake him up?”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side, studying Chris.  “He looks so angelic.”

Han was next, nodding to Hyunjin’s statement.  “Like a sweet baby…”

Moments later, Lee-Know walked in and silently observed the four younger members standing frozen in the doorway.  Lifting an eyebrow, he moved to peer over their shoulders to see Chris passed out.

“HYUNG!!!”  He said loudly, gently pushing his way through the others to go over to the couch and flopped down.

Chris’ head popped up immediately, the paper momentarily sticking to his cheek as he blinked his eyes open and looked around.  “What?  What’s going on?” 

Hyunjin followed Minho to the couch and sat down on the other end, glancing over to him before speaking.  “Really?  Was that necessary?”

Lee Know merely shrugged his shoulders.  “If we have to be here to work, so does he.”  

Several hours later, the eight members slowly made their way out of the recording studio and headed back to their respective apartments.  With his carry-on bag shrugged over his shoulder, his feet shuffling below him, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began drafting a message to you.

“Channie-hyung?”  Felix said softly, pulling Chris’ attention over to him.  “Everything ok?  You seemed off today.”

“Huh?  Oh… just tired.  I took a red-eye from Sydney last night and haven’t slept yet.  Except for on the table up there,” he pointed to the building behind him as they continued walking.  Straightening his posture, he winced, his back now sore from being bent over in the chair for an extended amount of time.

Felix winced sympathetically, gritting his teeth at the pained expression on his hyung’s face.  “Are you sure that’s all?  You didn’t really say much all day.”

Quietly, Chan shifted his eyes over to Felix’s, looking at the sincerity in his friend’s eyes and sighed heavily.  “Just… just a lot on my mind.”  Slowing down his steps, he let the other 6 members go on ahead while Felix hung back with him.

“Promise you won’t say anything to the others?”  Chris said, slowing to a stop on the sidewalk with Felix.  “Of course, promise.”  Felix confirmed, turning to face him.

“Do you remember my noona that came to one of the shows in Tokyo a few weeks ago?  Was there with her little sister?”  Chris asked, nervous to admit any of this out loud but he was dying to have someone to talk to about this.

“I think so… your old babysitter, right?”  The younger man inquired.

“Yeah, Y/n.”  Chris paused, raising a hand to rake his fingers through his messy curls. “I went to visit her in Melbourne before I came home.  I.. I’m not sure what’s going on, but, I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Pinching his eyebrows together in question, Felix spoke softly. “What do you mean visited her?”  

“I mean… I surprised her at her apartment and stayed with her on Saturday night.”  Chris said quietly, looking down to the sidewalk below before looking back to Felix’s face.

“Wait.”  Felix blinked, trying to put two and two together.  “Wait, isn’t she like… way older?  I mean,” he cleared his throat, “not that that’s a bad thing.”

“Yeah,” Chris sighed, looking around idly.  “She’s 8 years older, and she seems to think I should have a problem with it.”

“...Do you?”  The blonde asked quietly.

“No!”  Chris replied, probably a little louder than necessary.  “No, not at all.  She’s perfect,” he blushed as he spoke, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.  “I just don’t know what I’m doing and it’s driving me insane.”

Felix took a few moments before responding, trying to find the correct words.  “I’m not sure there is much you can do… she lives in Melbourne right?”  Chris just nodded his head, lifting his eyes to meet his again.

Sighing, Felix continued.  “Only you can do what you think is best, but I’d be careful.  It sounds like it could get really messy…”

Chris let the bag from his shoulder fall down his arm, catching it in his hand in defeat and exhaustion.  “Yeah.  That’s what Y/N said too…” he trailed off, looking down the road in thought.

A beat later, he laughed dryly.  “I actually started writing a song about her on the flight back.”

Felix nodded, listening to his friend.  “Go get some real sleep, see how you feel in the morning.”  

“Yeah,” Chris sighed, shifting his bag to his other shoulder.  “Thanks for letting me talk this out,” he said, smiling weakly at the younger member.

“Anytime,” Felix replied, his typical bright smile gracing his delicate features as he guided the two of them back down the street towards the apartments.

Chris did not, in fact, get much more sleep that night either.

Early the next morning, Chris sat down at his desk in his bedroom, pulled his laptop out of his bag and started playing with one of his editing tools, testing new sounds and rhythms.  Getting lost in the zone, he didn’t initially hear his cell phone buzzing beside him.  On the reminder vibration 2 minutes later, it finally caught his attention.

Shifting his eyes to the screen, he couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his lips.

You:  Good morning.  🙂 You:  Just checking to make sure you landed safe yesterday? Chris:  morning!  I did, I’m so sorry I forgot to call you Chris:  I went straight to the studio and got busy You:  No, totally ok.  Was just a little worried. Chris:  aww, you were worried about me? You:  …no. Chris:  awwww Chris:  you miss me already You:  I definitely didn’t say that Chris:  i miss you too You:  Good.

Chris leaned back in his chair, smiling like a lovesick puppy, eyes glued to the small screen.  He knew how guarded you were, and the fact that he could see you being less cautious with him gave him a little more hope.

You:  Are you getting enough sleep? Chris:  that word sounds familiar You:  Don’t make me come over there and put you to bed, young man. Chris:  that’s an option?? You:  Yeah that line never worked on you before either. Chris:  definitely wouldn’t now.  I’m warning you, don’t threaten me with a good time because I will take advantage of it. You:  Like you took advantage of me last weekend? Chris:  as I remember it correctly, you loved every second of it.  AND asked for more. You:  Hearsay. Chris:  you were the one who said you needed no break

Chris paused, thoughts forming.  Reaching into his bag again, he grabbed his notebook and pen, and jotted down a few lines.

You:  Ok Romeo, as fun as this is going down memory lane lol I have to get to work and I’m sure you do too. Chris:  unfortunately.  Can i call you tonight? You:  I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. Chris:  have a beautiful day, sweetheart You:  You too, Channie  😘

Dropping his phone back on the desk beside his laptop, grinning to himself, Chris got back to work with a renewed sense of urgency, and purpose.

A week had come and gone since Chris returned to Seoul.  The boys had spent the majority of the week working on a new arrangement for “Red Lights”, allowing each of them to have a small solo for the tour.  The responses to the duet with Hyunjin had received such a good response during the first leg of the tour that they discussed switching it up a little bit.

With the tight schedule of only having a week to perfect it before they headed to Seattle for the second part of their tour, their choreographer had put them through an intensive three day boot camp focusing solely on the newly adapted routine.  To make matters worse, they decided to throw props into the choreo which automatically made everything more difficult.

By the end of day three, the boys were wiped and were left with only one full day to themselves before their flight to North America the day after.  While the majority of the group went out for food after rehearsal, Chris went back to the apartment, anxious for his nightly phone call with you.

Less than ten minutes after he’d gotten home, he’d stripped his sweaty practice clothes, taken a quick shower, grabbed a cup of noodles from the kitchen and was back in his room.  Shoveling a forkfull of ramen into his mouth, he pressed your contact information and let his phone ring through to FaceTime call.

A few seconds later, your face popped up on the screen.  “Hey ther– wow.  That’s.  That’s quite the mouthful there,” you said with a laugh, watching Chris’ cheeks puff out, full of noodles.

He began trying to chew faster and laughed to himself, trying to get through the bite as quickly as he could.  “‘M sorry,” he mumbled with his mouth full.  Finally swallowing, he put the noodles down and wiped his mouth with a napkin.  “Sorry!  I didn’t expect you to answer so fast!”

You laughed.  “No no, g’head, finish stuffing your face.”

“No no, I’m good.  I’m good.  How was your day?”  He asked, smiling into the camera.

“It… it was good,” you started, nodding and shifting your eyes a little bit to the side in thought. Changing the subject quickly though, you returned the question.  “How about you?  Did the choreographer kill you guys again today?”

With a heavy sigh, Chris leaned back in his desk chair.  “Yes.  I think the guys are pretty pissed at me for suggesting we add in the new arrangement but once we’re on stage I think they’ll like the crowd response.”

“I’m sure,” you giggled a little.  “I mean, I know how you all absolutely hate having thousands of girls screaming for you.”

Sitting up straight again, he leaned into the camera and wiggled his eyebrows.  “Only one girl I’m interested in having scream for me.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, grabbing a couch cushion to hide your face behind, trying not to laugh.

“Move that pillow!!!  I don’t get to see you enough so don’t you dare hide that beautiful face from me!”  Chris said enthusiastically, laughing in his faux-begging/demanding way.

“Okay okay,” you laughed, bringing the pillow back down, red in the face and unable to look into the camera still.

 “Ahhhh…” Chris smiled charmingly, “there’s my pretty girl.”

“Aaaanyywaaayyy…” you said, trying to change the subject.  “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Early the following morning actually.  We have the day off tomorrow thankfully.  I don’t think I’ve done laundry in like, weeks.”  He said into the camera, grimacing.  

“Ew, dirty boy!”

He groaned playfully, “Baby”, he whined.  “You’re making it too easy for me to flirt with you if you keep saying shit like that!”

“Sorry, sorry!”  You smirked, then your face lit up as you remembered.  “Oh!  Remind me the dates that you’re going to be in New York?”

Chris shifted his eyes to his laptop, clicking through a few things and pulling up his calendar to rattle the dates off to you.

“Well…” you said, watching him grab his cup of noodles again to take another mouthful.  “I had a meeting with my boss earlier today and it looks like he’s sending me to a conference in a few weeks.”

“Oh?  Where?”  He asked, cheeks puffed out with ramen again.

“New York.  Conveniently the same time you guys will be there.”

Nearly choking on his food, he put it back down and his eyes widened, looking right into the camera as he tried to finish chewing and swallowing quickly.  “Really??  We get there on a Wednesday I think?  Staying through til Sunday?”

Smiling brightly at his enthusiasm, you nodded.  “The conference starts Tuesday and ends Friday, but I want to extend my trip through the weekend so I can stay for your shows.”

“Yes!!!!”  He said loudly, holding onto the arm rests of his office chair and rocking himself back and forth excitedly.  “Oh my god, that’s the best news I’ve heard all week!”

“Calm down there, don’t hurt yourself!”  You said, laughing at his zealous reaction.  

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Lady!  I was afraid it would be months before I’d get to see you again.”

“Well,” your smile softened, tucking your knees to your chest as you watched him.  “I’m glad you’re so happy.”

Just then, Chris’ attention was taken by a loud clanging noise coming from the living room, and a muffled SHIBAL.  Dropping his head exaggeratedly, he groaned and looked back to you in the camera.  “I think the children are back and someone either just broke something or themselves…”

You couldn’t help but laugh.  “Better go check on them.”

From outside Chris’ room he heard stifled voices, a long pause, and then a desperate HYYUUUUUNNGGGGGG.  “Why meee?”  Chris said, squinting his eyes shut in faux pain to you.  With a heavy sigh, he looked back at the camera.  “Yeah.  Text me before you go to sleep?”

With a smirk, you nodded once.  “Promise.  Good luck, Handsome.”

“Thanks Sweetheart,” he said, winking at you before ending the call.

As soon as the two of you disconnected, Chris sat there for a few moments, chewing his lower lip.  Finally, he swiped his screen awake again and sent off a new text to his manager before going to handle the kids in the living room.

Chris:  Ji-han, sorry it’s so late.  Can you schedule a last minute meeting with the tour's sound engineer for tomorrow please?  I want to update the set list. Chris: I have a new song I want to debut.

tag list: @angel-writes-skz-here @idkimobsessed @queenofdumbfuckery @mfcherry @downingmorphine @pixie-felix @d3kstar @lveegsoi @ebnabi @nebugalaxy @babystay724 @mmarusa @imagine-all-the-imagines @erisuna @beabidoobee @hanniesbubuwife @bbykaixx @riri53 @jinniesgirl @alx-wyjsr

let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

[billiesoxytocin]

normal people things

pairing: billie eilish x female reader

summary: fluff fluff fluff!! billie opens up to you about her longing and desire to just... be normal again. so you bring her on a spontaneous late-night grocery run with you that reminds her of the quiet joy of normalcy <3 FLUFFF!!!!!!!!!!! RAHHHHHHHH

warnings: just billie being a little sad at the start!

word count: 1.5k a/n: js a little something i wrote on a whim. not my best work but it's cute, i think! i hope you enjoy reading it still :)

your head snapped from the screen in front of you to the sound of keys jiggling behind you. a small smile crept to your face, heart rate slowly building up at the excitement of the love of your life coming home.

you watched from the couch as the doors opened and billie walks in. you were greeted with nothing more than a loud sigh from her and a loud thud from her bag hitting the floor.

no hi my love! no i missed you.

"hello to you too, ms grumpy," you let out a soft laugh, finally catching her attention.

she looked up from the tiny screen on her phone and finally laid eyes on you, her gaze lingering with a slight, apologetic smile.

you knew something must have happened today, so you didn't want to make her feel worse. you tilted your head in a beckoning motion, silently telling her to come sit with you.

and she did. her back slouched. her head hung low.

oh my baby.

she rounds to the front of the couch and came crashing into your already open arms. you let out a content sigh of having her back in your arms after a full day.

this was home.

the raven-haired girl squirmed and shifted on top of you and you let her, till she found the ultimate comfort position– her head snug in the crook of your neck, her legs intertwined between yours, her hands in the warmth of your skin under your shirt.

"you wanna talk about it, baby?" you whispered against her hair, your hands slowly finding their way in her silky hair as they massaged her scalp gently. how you knew she liked it.

you felt her practically melt further into you, a soft hum leaving her system. you let the question hang in the air, knowing that she'll answer when and if she wanted to.

a sigh leaves your lips as you kissed her her head through her hair. you took a deep breath, inhaling her scent that you love so much as you simply embraced her.

"sometimes," billie starts, and pauses. you felt her fingers trailing mindless shapes on your sides as she figured out her words.

"mmhm?"

she lets out a sigh and looks up, her chin resting on your chest as the two of you lock eyes.

"is it bad that sometimes i wish i wasn't... this?"

you furrowed your eyebrows, slightly confused. you tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "what do you mean, bils?"

"like-," she paused again.

you smiled, "my love.."

she looks at you questioningly. "it's just me. you don't have to filter. tell me as it is, baby."

"sometimes i don't want to be the billie eilish, global superstar. i don't want to be recognised everywhere i go. i wanna drive myself around in a cool car, not be driven in a black van. sometimes i just want to be able to go to the grocery store and shop like normal people. do normal people things, you know."

you hummed in acknowledgement as you listened. your heart wrenching just a little, hearing the longing in her voice. billie looked everywhere as she spoke, but your eyes never left her face.

"i feel alien, now, y/n. i don't like that," she ends off with a defeated sigh before laying her head back on your chest.

you sighed as well.

"i'm sorry, baby."

you didn't know what else to say. if you had the power to change things, you would have done it already. and billie knew that.

your hands ran down her back, rubbing soothing circles as you pulled her in just a little tighter.

"don't be, sweetheart. it's not your fault, and nobody can do anything about it now. i'm just complaining."

and suddenly you sat up straight, catching billie by surprise as she was forced up as well. "get dressed," you simply said before pushing her off to stand on your feet.

"huh?"

"get dressed!" you repeated, getting excited. billie laughs at the sight, despite being perplexed by your sudden burst of energy.

"i AM dressed! i just got back. YOU get dressed!"

you looked down at your PJs and winced. she was right. you giggled to yourself as you ran to the bedroom to throw on a hoodie and sweatpants over your PJs, and grabbed another hoodie for billie.

it was 2am on a monday night. and you and billie stay in an apartment a 15-minute drive away from a 24-hour k-mart. and you have your very own sage range rover downstairs.

"put this on, baby." you tossed the hoodie to billie as you grabbed your car keys with one hand, the other leading your girlfriend out of the apartment.

billie laughs loudly, "what is going on? where are you taking me?"

you just smiled all the way down to the car.

"um, the driver seat is here..?" she trailed off in confusion when she saw you standing by the passenger seat door.

"oh! right," you feigned innocence before tossing the car keys to her as well, "you're driving."

you hopped onto the passenger seat, all buckled in and ready to go. you were just so tickled by billie's confusion, giggling to yourself in your seat.

"i know what you're doing, y/n." billie says softly as she settled in the driver seat.

you turned to look at her, lips twitching with a barely-contained smile. “oh, do you?”

she nodded, eyes on the road as she started the engine, the soft rumble filling the otherwise quiet underground garage. “you’re trying to give me my ‘normal people things.’” her voice cracked just a bit at the end, laced with affection.

you reached over and rested your hand on her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “maybe,” you admitted with a shrug. “or maybe i just really wanted to argue with you in the snack aisle over whether sour patch or gummy worms are superior.”

billie snorted, the sound breaking through the heavy mood like a sunbeam through clouds. “gummy worms are obviously better.”

you gasped dramatically, eyes wide. “i don’t even know who you are anymore.”

she laughed again, louder this time, and you could practically see the tension start to melt from her shoulders as she backed out of the spot and drove out into the quiet city night.

fifteen minutes and a lot of silly playlist shuffling later, the two of you pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the all-night k-mart. the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a cold glow on the asphalt as the doors whooshed open for you.

both of you walked in like two kids left unsupervised—hoodies too big, sleepy eyes, the thrill of being out when the world was quiet. this was yours. just yours.

you grabbed a cart and started pushing it dramatically, leaning forward like a race car driver. billie jogged up beside you and jumped on the front bar, laughing as you struggled to steer. you nearly crashed into a display of off-brand soda.

“this is unsafe,” you huffed, but you were laughing too.

you hit the snack aisle first. billie held up a party-sized bag of vegan white cheddar popcorn with the most serious expression. “this is a necessity.”

you squinted at it. “that stuff gets everywhere. like—i’ll be finding crumbs in my hair for a week.”

“worth it,” she grinned, already tossing it into the cart.

you found a pack of those off-brand gummy worms and waved them in her face. “don’t say i never compromise.”

she laughed and tossed them into the cart. “i’ll allow it.”

in the next aisle, she stopped in front of a weird assortment of halloween clearance items (despite it being may) and put on a discounted plastic tiara. “do i look like royalty?” she asked, striking a dramatic pose in front of the dusty shelf mirror.

“you are royalty,” you replied, without missing a beat. “but the kind that starts revolutions and burns shit down.”

“so… accurate,” she smiled.

you meandered into the homeware section, where you debated the color of throw pillows for an embarrassingly long time. she found a ridiculously soft blanket—neon pink and fluffy—and wrapped herself in it like a burrito.

“this is who i am now,” she declared, arms tucked in.

“that is seventy percent polyester,” you deadpanned.

“i’m seventy percent done with your judgment,” she smirked.

in the toy aisle, billie made a beeline to the shelves of nerf guns. “don’t tempt me.”

“you’re already tempted,” you warned.

you ended up having a short, ridiculous battle between aisles with foam darts flying everywhere. she tackled you onto one of the giant teddy bears in the corner, both of you breathless with laughter.

and somewhere between the frozen pizza aisle and the pet toys you absolutely didn’t need, billie turned to you and said, “thank you.”

you blinked. “for what? the late-night junk food?”

“no,” she said softly. “for giving me this. this—” she gestured around at the nearly-empty store, the cart with three kinds of chips, your disheveled hoodie, and your hand still holding hers.

“this feeling of being… just a girl. with her girlfriend. at k-mart. at 2am. arguing over whether a slushie counts as hydration.”

you grinned. “it absolutely does not.”

she smiled back, leaned in, and kissed you. soft, sweet, and slow. the kind of kiss that said everything words couldn’t. that she was grateful. that she loved you. that in this moment, she wasn’t billie eilish the global phenomenon.

she was just billie. your billie.

[lovemepartly]

temporary fix ✩ namgyu

inspired by one direction’s temporary fix 🙃

warnings: 18+, smut, drinking. namgyu is kind of an asshole?

a/n: finally locked in and wrote for squid game 🙏 i can’t wait for s3... also maybe i'll make a part two of this??

 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 

the club was loud. people danced in drunken circles, pushing each other like it was monday morning on a commuter train. you sat at the bar, phone face up, as you desperately waited for your phone to light up. 

your date was running late. it was your third time seeing each other and because he liked clubbing as much as you did, you suggested a night out partying. he seemed enthusiastic, but now was a no-show. your phone finally lit up, his name flickering on the screen, and a stupid excuse about why he couldn’t come. you scoffed silently, turning your phone over, and leaning over the counter to ask the bartender for your favorite cocktail. 

namgyu had noticed you from across the bar, like he usually noticed girls that seemed like they had been stood up. he was drawn to them, not because he was some saint or trying to be a prince charming coming to their rescue, but almost because he found their vulnerability entertaining, seeing it as some sort of challenge. so he walked up to the bar, sliding into the seat next to you as he looked at you, saying his classic line; “that bad, huh?”

“what?” you turned to face him, taking a sip from the bright red cocktail in front of you. 

“you got stood up.” he said simply, as if it was the most obvious fact in the world - as if everyone in the club could see that you had been ditched by your date. 

“how’d you know?” you respond, cocking your head slightly with a playful smile. 

“figured,” he shrugged, gesturing the bartender to bring him a drink, “pretty girls like you aren’t usually alone.”

you rolled your eyes playfully, taking another sip from your drink to distract from the fact that you didn’t exactly know how to respond to the compliment. luckily, he spoke first. “i’m namgyu.”

“namgyu,” you echoed, rolling his name off your tongue, before introducing yourself. 

“what are you drinking?” he asked curiously. 

“cherry sazerac.” you hummed, eyes flicking over his face to study his features. he was beautiful in an almost alluring way; you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. maybe it was the sharpness of his features, the way his cheekbones and nose were so perfectly defined. maybe it was his slightly long, black hair - a feature you had always liked on men. or maybe it was the way he carried himself with the utmost confidence, to approach a random girl at the club. 

namgyu noticed the way your eyes flickered over his face, and he couldn’t stop a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at the intensity of your stare. “hey,” he said after a small pause, “would you like to dance with me? i promise i’m a good dancer,” he added with a small wink. 

you couldn’t stop a small smile from appearing on your lips at his words and nodded softly, taking his hand, as you stood from the chair, saying, “i’ll hold you to that.”

so you danced with namgyu. truth be told, he was a lot of fun. it was the exact kind of night you had been in the mood for. you could feel the bass in your chest as the music pumped loud, as namgyu sang to you, as you screamed the lyrics to songs from the 2000’s with him. maybe it was the way you swung your hips against his to the music, or the way the two of you had stumbled to the bar and interlaced your arms as you took shots, that led to him asking, “want to come to the bathroom with me?”

you didn’t even hesitate, just nodded, taking his hand as he led you to the club bathroom. it was dirty but it also wasn’t the first time you’d done this. as soon as the bathroom door was locked, namgyu didn’t hesitate to push you against the counter, gently cupping your face as his lips roughly connected with yours.

you could taste the alcohol as you kissed him, and it was unironically intoxicating. he kissed with passion, with need, with hunger - and it tasted like everything you had been craving that night. his hands made their way further down, roaming across your body, his hands gripping your thighs, gently tracing over the skin just under your dress. 

namgyu pulled away for just a moment, breathlessly looking at you, and a firm nod from you was all he needed. he kissed you once more, almost softly but still laced with passion, as he turned you over, pulling down his pants and boxers. he took out a condom from his pocket, almost as if he was prepared - or maybe he just did this often, before rolling it onto himself. He lifted up your dress, pushing your underwear to one side, as his eyes locked with yours in the mirror, searching for any doubt. when he found none, he gently stroked himself a couple of times, before holding onto your hip with one hand, and aligning himself with your entrance as he gently pushed in. 

you held back a moan at the initial sensation, and you could tell he did too, the way his head leaned back for just a moment and the way his eyes fluttered closed. he slowly began moving, thrusting into you, his gaze moving from the scene in front of him to your face in the mirror, studying the way your face contorted softly with every moan. he muttered soft curses and dirty praises under his breath as his hips moved, increasing his pace. the bathroom was filled with the sounds of your hips connecting, his words, the soft moans that escaped from your lips, and the rough grunts from his. 

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “’m gonna come.” a couple more messy, fast thrusts did it for him and you could see him shuddering in the mirror, his grip on your hip tightening just a bit. 

he pulled out, discarding the condom and putting his pants back on, as you turned around, pulling your dress and underwear back on. he murmured another curse under his breath, before turning to you, gently reaching out to move a piece of hair out of your face. he couldn’t help but to lean in again, softly kissing you, the kiss more gentle now and filled with less hunger. 

“listen,” he murmured softly against your lips, “i was supposed to meet some friends tonight and i’m kind of already running late.”

“that’s fine.” you whispered softly, lips brushing against his. 

“i hope you didn’t think that that was, like…” he paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain the interaction you’d just had. 

“it’s fine,” you said with a small smile, knowing what he was about to say. “i wasn’t looking for anything serious tonight.” and it was the truth. 

“cool.” he said, flashing you his signature crooked smile, as the two of you exited the bathroom. “i’ll see you around then.” 

“yeah,” you murmured softly, watching as he left. 

[kettleinusefornow]

Rough ride..MDNI

PART 2

CHAPTER 12: Beg for me

Sae Itoshi X Reader fic

Contains breakup and miscommunication

Revenge sex

Iceskater!reader

eventual happy ending </3

teenage love

ALOT of angst

CHP1 CHP LIST

CHAPTER 12: Beg for me

The first thing that occurred was Sae ghosting his manager and telling him not to contact him for the week or so. Any response that went against his wishes were promptly ignored. 

He began his time focusing on Y/N. Keeping track of her social media and among other stuff.. He subconsciously checked up on her daily social media presence, her likes, reposts and her followers. 

One thing he learnt from his stalking observations was that Y/N continued ice skating. He remembered her mentioning it a few times in writing but he thought it was just a small hobby that would die down. 

Now here he is. Standing outside Malora Cafe. The place seemed pretty empty but really pretty at the same time. The flowers spread across the outside gave it a romantic vibe to it.

He looked through the window to see Koyuki and Y/N in their training clothes. He assumed that they probably just ended, while he stood there, almost like he didn’t know what he should do. It didn't take long before Koyuki noticed him standing outside. 

She turned to Y/N. Y/N seemed to be in a bad mood, probably because Koyuki made such a big deal about looking good on that day. 

“Put your hair down! Wear your lululemon set! Wear nice perfume! Put on some light makeup!” 

The morning before was almost disastrous to Y/N, she didn’t know why Koyuki was acting this way. She sipped on her ice honey lemon tea while Koyuki asked to be excused to the washroom. 

Koyuki stepped out of the Cafe, feeling the air hit her face like a bulldozer but regained her normal composure. She identified as she saw him standing near the flowers. She walked up to him. 

Sae acknowledged her but didn’t say anything before she did. 

“Um.. She’s inside. Just say what you need to say and hear her out too. I’ll be back in 20 minutes. Good luck.” 

Koyuki walked away, going into another cafe that was a little far from Malora Cafe. Sae took a deep breath in before he opened the door, his eyes immediately landing on Y/N as she scrolled on her phone. 

He walked. He took one step at a time until he was in front of the seat opposite to her. He pulled the green cushioned seat back. Y/N immediately moved her eyes to the figure in front of her. 

There he stood. A man that was too familiar to be called a stranger but too distant to be called ‘friend’. Y/N didn’t say anything. She sat there with a blank expression that maintained eye contact with Sae as he sat down in front of her. 

“...” 

“Y/N, I need to talk.”

Y/N didn’t say a word. It’s not like she could object. If he wants to say something there is nothing stopping him until he gets everything out. She picked up her tea and sipped it while Sae stared at her.

“Me and Yasumi aren’t actually dating, yes we have been seen on multiple instances together but me and her are meeting for purely the sake of creating gossip.”

Y/N didn’t react, after a long pause she let out a sigh. 

“Okay, and?”

Sae seemed to mirror her, not replying to her remark. 

“Give me.. Another chance.” 

Y/N let out a loud laugh, she was so amused by the fact he thinks he can just waltz his way here and tell her to take him back? Phenomenal. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Sae you can’t possibly be serious right now. Do you even know how much you hurt me? Look I don’t want to be hurt anymore, it’s best if we part wa-” 

“I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have done what I did. I can get on my knees and beg or write you a 5 page essay on why I want you back- Not that you should, if you want to..”

The total amount of words that came out his mouth were equivalent to probably a few weeks.

Y/N looked up from her cup of tea and was met with that same expression. His expression didn’t change much, just a small frown at the tip of his eyebrows that seemed desperate even though it didn’t show much. 

Y/N stared at him, she didn’t have disbelief on her face but she was slightly surprised that the Itoshi Sae could actually say these words. 

It was almost a bit comical to her. She gazed out the window looking at the quiet street, a few cars passing by every now and then. She thought for a long time. Sae didn’t say anything until she did.

She loved him. 

No wait..

She loves him. 

Y/N didn’t want to face her denial but she knew a small part of her would cry if she said no to him. 

‘It was supposed to be a stupid teenage relationship..’ 

HI WSP GANG IM BACK.. This chp might be lil ass and that’s becuz when I was writing this I was going thru a BAD writer’s block and I still haven’t fully recovered.. ANYWAYS, the uploads will not be that consistent, maybe once a week, mainly on sundays.

©kettleinuse4now | please do not translate, repost, refer without permission | don’t steal and say it’s your own (ahole behavior)

@pinkymangacaps @realrintaro @syleepy @shidoushair @kaiserismine @randomhumans-blog @evxelisy @mwezieclipze @hihi5649 (More to be added lol)

[sungbeam]

the exception

eric sohn x reader

0.7k words, eric just wants to be the shoulder you lean on, mention of wanting to punch someone, hurt/comfort/angst?, no pronouns used but reader is said to wear a skirt!

a/n: requests are closed! but this one uses one of the prompt quotes requested by @ericlvr <3 sorry this took so long, but i suddenly picked it up cuz i felt inspired :')

Eric’s been running. It’s the pent-up adrenaline in his veins that keep his legs pumping on the treadmill, his heart rate boosted—all to ensure his mind doesn’t race like he’s in the Grand Prix. He’s been one text message away from losing it completely. If anything, it’s taken everything in him not to look at his phone; he’s been on DND like it’s religion. 

But there’s always an exception to his perfectly, foolproof plans, and it always has to do with you. 

The addicting trap beat in his ears comes to an abrupt pause that nearly makes him skid to a halt. A ringtone—yours, some song you chose and he could no longer live without—replaced what he had been listening to. 

He punches the button on the treadmill as he slows to a comfortable walking pace, simultaneously lifting the bottom of his tank top up to wipe his sweaty face and accepting your call. He’s breathless when he answers, mentally bracing himself for your gushing, squealing, excitement. “Hey, how was it? It’s a little early, isn’t it?”

It only just hit ten o’clock at night and he was sure you and your date would have been out until eleven, at the earliest. 

When you don’t answer and he can only hear the sound of the passing cars on the road, his heart drops clean out of his chest. “Hey,” he says again, this time, infinitely softer. He steps off the treadmill. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You exhale into his ear and he panics when he hears the tremor. “Can you pick me up? Please?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he replies without hesitation. He practically sprints for the locker room, slinging his bag over his shoulders with his helmet under his arm, before making a dash for the parking lot. “Drop a pin and I’ll be there as soon as possible. Just” —he swallows— “hang in there, hon. You somewhere safe?”

The cold air slaps him in the face and he swears his feet go faster when he remembers you went out in a skirt tonight. 

“Yeah, I’m on the curb outside that coffee place we went to the other day. You don’t need to rush or anything; drive safe, Eric.”

Don’t rush? Yeah, right. 

His motorcycle comes into view and he swings his leg over the seat. “Hang tight. I’ll be there in ten.” When the call ends, he’s revving up the engine and racing out of the lot. 

It takes all his willpower to restrain himself from bulldozing past a red light, or maybe even scaring a slow pedestrian. He can’t rationalize your mood change, the swift and steep turnaround of tonight—what did that asshole do to you? There’s a million and one possibilities flicking through his mind, and by the time he’s turning onto his target street, he’s convinced that he could actually bash that bastard's face in. 

But when he spots your figure hunched on the edge of the curbside, your jacket draped over your drooping shoulders, all the fight leaves his body. He thinks he can be the fierce and loyal protector you deserve, but he’s always just wanted to be the shoulder you lean on. 

He carefully directs his bike toward the curb and it draws your attention upward. There are no tears in your eyes, only an expressionlessness that terrifies him. His foot stomps the kickstand down, shucks the helmet off his head; then he’s taking the few steps needed to meet you, and your arms are wrapped around his middle, face pressed into the heat of his neck. 

His own arms tighten around you and he has to cup the back of your shoulders and head to prevent his hands from curling into fists. “Hey,” he murmurs, then coughs, “sorry, I'm a little sweaty.” 

“'s fine. Thanks for coming.”

“Where else would I be?” he chuckles and his hand smoothes over your hair. The words are so natural, the gesture so fond—it’s almost pathetic. Where else would I be? I've never cared for anyone the way I care for you. He swallows again, turning back to his bike. “Let's get you home, hm?”

You nod and pull away. (For a split second, he regrets saying anything. He could have indulged for a moment longer, could have forgotten the entire reason you called.)

He passes you his helmet, flicking the visor over your eyes as you climb onto the bike behind him. 

He doesn't need to tell you to 'Hold tight’ as he speeds off into the night. 

a/n: pls reblog if u enjoyed!

tbz m.list

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[frillydolle]

colleague rumours　 ─　 𝓗𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓫𝓪𝓵 𝓛𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻

synopsis: back in his younger days, you and hannibal were colleagues. he acted as your mentor. soon, rumours say that there is something romantic between you both. what will come of that?

tags ͡˚̣̣̣𓎟𓎟　 femreader　 not proofread　 hes intrigued by you　 suggestive touching?

you are a trainee psychiatrist. for as long as you can remember, you've always wanted to help others mentally and emotionally. you saw mental health as something very important.

having a lack of experience in the field, dr. hannibal lecter was happy enough to help you, and hannibal became your mentor. the man who was seen as an experienced and trusted advisor who guides and supports someone less experienced. hannibal was highly intelligent and analytical, and he was very good at what he did.

thought you couldn't deny how you found him so... attractive. was that the word you'd use? you weren't sure.

the two of you got along well. hannibal gave you small pieces of advice and tips to remain calm, let them get comfortable around you, how to help them the way is required, how to react professionally, and most of it, doctor-patient confidentiality. that was the most important.

but just recently, people have been talking about you and Dr. lecter, and.. you weren't sure why. you just dumbed it down that it was because refer you to “dear” or “my dear” but you didn't mind that. that was just... him.

some colleagues agree that there's something going on between the two of you, romantically. but that's silly, isn't it? It's clear that there's nothing between you two that's nothing intimate. colleagues and nothing else. he was just your mentor. he was guiding you and mentoring you.

“doctor-patient confidentiality is important because thats allowing the patient to have full trust in me.”

“well done, my dear.”

you'd be in hannibal's office after his last patient for the day leaves, he would assist and quiz you on your knowledge. you'd think that hes looking at you, well, his gaze would linger more than usual.

when the two of you are sitting on the chair, you'd feel his leg touch yours, accident touch was what you put it down to in your mind. for your quizzes, if you got them right, he'd praise you. if you were wrong, then he'd hint the answer until you figure it out for yourself.

or after a stressful day for the two of you, he'd give you a shoulder massage, or the two of you would share a bottle of alcohol that he has hidden with a cupboard in his office, his fingers brushing against yours as he gives you a glass to use. he'd often tower over you if you're sitting by his desk or the chairs for his patience.

“would you like a drink, dear [name]?”

there were times that hannibal's hand would rest on your lower back if the two of you were walking somewhere or if there was a sort of psychiatry conference for new psychiatrists.

of course, hannibal would always come with you to make sure you're comfortable. but what you didn't know is that he took an interest in you and that's why he was treating you in such a way.

although sooner the rumours being unanswered was the unfortunate side of work gossip. it was only a matter on time until a coworker asked you or dr. lecter what was going on between you two.

“why do you always focus on dr. [name]? she's just a trainee amd you're a busy man. you wouldn't be able to help her everutime she needs it, dr lecter.”

you weren't attracted to him, were you? he was just a mentor. an older man that helped you as an experienced psychiatrist.

“something about her intrigues me. im happy to help her in any way she's needs.”

okay, maybe you got along with him well, but it's nothing big or inappropriate. it was strictly professional, but it always has been.

[ekwolfwriter-blog]

MC/ Sylus Flash fic

Just MC and Sylus talking on the beach, with the beach banner coming and with the recent trailer, I felt there needed a moment for them to talk. Also hints of MC finding out her past with Sylus.

This fic is just for fun but if people want me to do more, let me know. I have a full fic on the way soon. ~~~

MC is sitting by the beach as she is looking out toward the ocean. She had to think about some things especially after a long few days of revelations that have happened. She is not sure what to make of it all, especially knowing her past finally coming to light.

She sighed.

Then she heard movement on the beach as she glanced up to see a large man standing behind her, his normal clothing replaced with surprisingly relaxed summer clothing which was strange to see him in as opposed to his cool collected side. But MC did not move otherwise as she returned her gaze to the beach while the man came over to sit beside her.

Sylus did not speak as he sat beside her. But put enough space for her and him if she did not want to be held. For a while, they just sat in silence. MC knew why, he was waiting for her to say something, like he always would when she was upset. And it would normally be the case. But this time, she was not sure she could or trust herself to talk.

If Sylus knew this, he did not say anything. He merely looked out to the ocean beside her as he took in a deep breath. Letting the air feel calming with his breathing. It made MC feel a bit less guarded as she looked down at the sand.

“Sylus,” she said.

“Hm?” he said as he kept looking out.

“I need the truth from you.”

“If that is what you want,” he said.

“The full truth, everything that had happened between us. Why you know all these things about me? And… why you did not tell me about what I did to you? And why are you still with me even knowing that I will only cause you pain?”

Sylus did not move as he did not look toward her. He was stiff as if to think about his answer. But he could feel how MC was gripping her legs tightly to hold her self tight like a hug. She did not seem to trust herself with him. While he stayed still to try and come off as cool and collected, his face and scowl showed how much he hated seeing her like this. Not his hunter.

But he took a second to breath as he began to speak. “What happened between us, all those years ago, was something I had all intentions of telling. But I did not want to force you into knowing too soon. Especially as you did not know.”

“Then why not tell me soon after? It would have made things easier as to why you were pushing me back then.”

“Because it is not in my ability to do so.” He answered.

MC was shocked into silence as he signed and pinched his nose. “You always know when to push it,” he muttered. “But… that is one of the things that I like about you, more so now.”

He finally looked at her, but there was the soft glances of their quiet moment together. And how he looked when he was looking at MC and not the girl of his past. He looked at her with love in his eyes as he inched a bit closer.

“I did not tell you because it is not my place for me to force this knowledge on you. Nor could I do so. Or want to.”

MC looked at Sylus as she tried to read his face. She was never good at reading his guarded expression with how smug he would be sometimes. But the times when he softened for her, it was easy to see he was looking carefully to find the right words. And now, it was almost like he wanted her to ask so that the gaps could be filled.

“When you say you could not, or want to, does it have to do with … your bloodline?”

Sylus, still calm as ever, nodded. “Some of it does.”

MC nodded as she then looked at his chest. It was open to a scar on his chest that was shaped like a gem. One she had seen now twice in her mind since finding out.

“Does this mean that you were waiting for me to figure it out on my own? And could not because it could have affected you?”

Sylus shrugged. “It is part of it,”

“What else is there then?” MC snapped as she could feel her frustration coming out. “I killed you before. I hurt you and I know that either I have to kill you or I kill you again! How can you be so calm about this? And how could you love me again even after everything I did then and even now? In this life? Doubting you, judging you, and even tried to kill you before. How can you still want to be with me?”

Sylus stared at her as her face was getting red with tears and flush on her face. Seeing her in tears did not pain him as much, but he never liked it either. But this time, it was because he knew it was out of a deeper emotion than what she was admitting to herself audibly. Sylus did not care as he only smiled and slowly raised a hand to her cheek.

“I might have fallen for your past. But when you could not remember, I wanted then to make sure that you got what you needed and left. Stay away and ensure that you would not be in harm’s way anymore. But as the cruel fates had it, they decided this time, we should not be apart ever. Even when we might have parted again, I felt back then it was the final chance to pull away and make sure to stay out of your life so it could not happen again.”

“But when you came to me, practically ordering me to stay,” he said before MC gave a low scoff like chuckle at him saying that, which made him smile, “I knew then, as I know now this. The girl I love, no matter what has happened to her, has always been there. I will love her as she is now, even if she is different.”

“I will love her fierce obsession with plushies and bad habit of late night scrolling before bed, and love her even if she is hurt and tend to her, or fight by her side when she takes on a mission and be her shadow while she is the light in this world.”

“Because she is my beloved, no matter what form you take or what curse has been placed on us, I will be there for you. For all versions of you.”

The wave thundered in the background as MC blushed more and felt tears streaming down her face as she then leaned into his touch. Sylus leaned in to touch her forehead with his as he smiled. “All I can hope is that one day, you would feel the same to see all of me. As I see all of you.”

His whisper was soft toward her as MC leaned in and looked up into his red eyes. Soft and warm for only her. Eyes she remembered once being feared of in her dreams and memories, but now have been replaced with so much love it could make her heart burst. She thought about it as she inched closer to him.

“Can you… just hold me for now? Like you did in the past?”

“Past?” he asked.

MC nodded. “The ones of our memories.”

Sylus blinked a moment as he then nodded and brough her into him. “I… might need to use some of my Evol to maintain it, so bear with me.”

MC nodded as she turned a little in his embrace. Sylus looked down at her as he sighed and took a deep breath to concentrate. He did not want to scare her with what he was about to do next. But she wanted it, and he could not deny her anything. What she wanted, he would do it. Even now, if it might terrify her.

But she was willing to try and see all of him as he knew she saw in her past. And he will trust her as well. With a deep breath, as they watched the ocean and the sun finally set, and the darkness came, Sylus unfurled his hidden wings as they wrapped around them and rest on his arms while she looked at them softly.

MC was amazed at them even if a bit hesitant, but she did not seem to fear his wings. She tenderly touched them to see his reactions. And while they twitched a little, they remained where they were, even relaxing more like a muscle of his arm when she placed her hand on them. They were warm and comforting, just like him.  

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

Sylus hummed in agreement, but he was more focused on her. “And of me?”

MC glanced up at him as she reached up to touch his cheek. Sylus leaned into her touch, like he was craving it this whole time. MC smiled a little even if there was still tears in her eyes.

“You are amazing, Sylus. Every part of you. I will come to terms with it all, but we can figure it out. And as you said, no matter what form you take or what you have done, I will love you as well.”

Sylus smiled at her softly before slowly leaning in to her space, placing a small kiss on her cheek. “How I have waited to hear that.”

MC smiled as she pulled him closer to kiss him back on the lips. Sylus returned the gesture in kind as he kissed harder and leaned into him.

There they kissed some more as Sylus kept his wings around them, hiding them from the world and letting them just be themselves. Two souls finally reconnecting once again.

[drabbles-mc]

Invisible Silver Linings (5/7)

Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x F!Reader

Series Warnings: 18+, Thunderbolts* spoilers, language, angst, mentions of scars, mentions of self-harm/suicidal ideations

Summary: You signed on to become part of a study when you realized that you didn't have anything left to lose. What harm could it really do? How much worse could it really get? ... You didn't expect to get answers to those questions. You also didn't expect to meet Bob. You'd end up thankful for at least one of those things.

Chapter Index

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: it wouldn't be Thunderbolts* fanfiction without some suffering on Bob's part, i hate to say

The lights came back on again. Food got dropped off. You heard the sound of a door scraping against the floor as it opened. The only reason you knew it was Bob that was being taken was because he was talking loud enough as they took him out for you to hear him. He wasn't saying anything of consequence, but you knew from his tone that he was just trying to let you know that they were taking him somewhere. You wondered if that meant they were going to come for you soon too.

You got your answer a little while later. You were pacing around your room when they opened your door. It was a different woman than before, but she had the same outfit and clipboard. She stood in the gap of your doorway and watched you closely as you walked up to her.

“Cutting me loose, or?”

She motioned for you to step out. “We're moving onto the next phase of the trial, as long as you're still interested.”

You nodded, more out of desperation to be done with this entire excursion than anything else. When you'd signed on for this, you figured they'd stick a needle in you, or give you a few doses of pills to take and then keep you for a week or so to see if it killed you or balanced you out. You hadn't been expecting to get thrown into all of this.

She had you follow her to an elevator, and your eyes went wide at how many stories were in the building that you'd been stuck in. They must've been keeping you all in some hellish maze of subbasements then, since no daylight got in. Seemedlike adding insult to injury, keeping you all in the dark when there were so many other places they could've put you.

You had to squint your eyes when the elevator doors opened back up again. You'd spent who knows how long in darkness and manufactured light, but the floor she'd brought you to seemed to be wall-to-wall windows. Sunlight streamed in and covered anything. It was blinding, but you almost didn’t want to shield your eyes. You didn’t know if they were going to toss you back down into the dark again.

Half of the room looked like a lab straight out of the movies. Vials and beakers and monitors with scans on them. The other half of the room was sectioned off into tiny boxes, all glass and curtains. Sort of like exam rooms in a doctor's office only no doctor in their right mind would agree to this setup for their patients. You could make out silhouettes in some, your first assurance that there were in fact other people still here besides you and Bob. You wondered if he was in one of the rooms. Maybe you two were neighbors again.

The woman pushed open the door to one of the makeshift exam rooms. “Have a seat.”

You looked at the chair that was more of a chair-bed-hybrid, just like the ones at your doctor's office. After a moment of standing in the doorway, you looked at her again. “You guys gonna knock me out again?”

Her face gave nothing away, not even an acknowledgment of what'd happened to you before. “They'll be with you shortly to answer all of your questions. Please, take a seat.”

There was no use in arguing, so you went into the room. You were just going to stand and pace until someone else came in, but as the woman lingered in the doorway you realized she wasn’t going to leave until you did as you were told. Hopping up onto the seat you'd been provided, you made unwavering eye contact with the woman until she stepped away and shut the door behind her. You didn’t miss the click of the lock.

Since you were alone, you got right back off the bed and went over towards the window. You pulled in a deep breath, like you were breathing the fresh air from outside and not the over-circulated air coming out of the vents in the building. You could almost trick your mind into thinking they were the same, though, as you stared out over the expanse of the city. So many buildings, so many people looking so tiny on the sidewalks beneath you. It was peaceful in its chaos. Beautiful. You subconsciously rubbed at the insides of your wrists. To think that you'd nearly given it all up because—

Your enlightenment moment was cut short by the sound of someone screaming. Peeling yourself away from the window, you went back towards the door to try and catch a glimpse of what was happening out there. The curtains stopped you from seeing into the other matchbox-sized rooms, but you saw white blurs of lab coats as people ran past your door, presumably, towards the screaming.

The yell was definitely one born out of pain. You cringed at the sound, hoping for the sake of whoever it was that it would be over soon. If what was happening to them was that painful, maybe they'd just pass out. Hopefully you would too, if this was what you had to look forward to in phase two of whatever the hell this was.

“Stop! Stop!” they yelled. “I don't wanna do this anymore!”

Once the person spoke, you knew immediately that it was Bob. Your heart tightened inside your chest, like a set of vines were choking it out. Pressing your face against the glass door, you desperately tried to get a look at whatever it was that was going on. You flattened your palms on the door, one on either side of your head, and pushed as you continued to try and see what was happening.

The yelling continued. Bob begging them to stop whatever it was that they were doing to him. Doctors and scientists yelling for assistance in a way that had you thinking whatever was happening they hadn’t seen yet before. Before you realized what you were doing, you were pounding on the door and begging to be let out.

It reached a crescendo of screaming and then it fell silent. Dread seeped through every vein and artery of your body as you tried to figure out what had happened. Did they kill him? Was whatever this was too much and it killed him? Did the pain finally knock him out? But then why weren't they saying anything either?

You started hitting the door harder. You screamed Bob's name and waited for the glass to break beneath the slamming of your fists. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you were forced to simply stand there and wait for whatever happened next. How did you always end up in this position? How did you always end up being so useless when people needed you the most?

Then the lights cut out. It was only for a second, two at most. But everything went dark. The brief power outage reset the lock on your door, so you eagerly ripped it open and launched yourself out into the expanse of the lab without a second thought. Looking around, you didn’t see anyone. The eerie part, though, was that nothing really seemed like it was out of place.

Your heart was thundering inside your chest as you took one tentative step after another. You called out for Bob but got no answer from him or anyone else. As you continued to walk, you glanced into each of the exam rooms. Most of them seemed untouched.

The second to last one gave you pause before you even got to it. The door was flung open, and black streaks were coming out of the doorway. Even on your best day, you wouldn't have been able to venture a guess as to what would case something like that.

“Bob?” You wished your voice wasn't so shaky.

Then you heard it. Footsteps. Slow and heavy. You stopped walking, holding your breath as you tried to gear up for whatever was about to happen. There was no more trying to predict the next move now—you just had to take them as they came.

The relief you felt when Bob stepped out of the exam room was indescribable. He looked like hell, his hair all a mess and tears on his face. If you thought that he'd looked scared before, it was nothing compared to the look in his eyes now. But it was him. He was alive. That was better than you had been preparing yourself for.

You didn’t even bother trying to stop the sob in your throat as you quickly went to collapse the distance between the two of you. “Thank god you're alright,” you said, managing a smile through the tears.

The deer-in-headlights look on his face intensified tenfold as you reached out for him. He held his hands up, palms facing you like he was surrendering. “Wait, wait don't—”

You'd hardly started to process what he was saying, or the fact that his hands and wrists were now an inky black color as you went to take his hands in yours. He tried to pull back away from you, but he wasn't fast enough. Your next kind words died halfway up your throat as your fingers brushed against his. Suddenly you were gone, and Bob was all alone once more.

He dropped to his knees just outside the room he'd been stuck in. Holding his hands out in front of him, he stared at his palms through his tears. Clenching his fists, he felt his fingernails bite into the meat of his palms. It didn't do anything to him, though, not like what it had done to everyone else, not like what it had done to you.

He stared at the shadow left behind where you had once stood. Reaching out, he pressed his fingertips to it, not knowing what he expected it to do. When nothing happened, he figured that it was fitting. That was about what he deserved.

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[sunandflame]

Ok but imagine Lucci taking his girlfriend to a fancy dinner-

Wined and Watched

In the hush between power and pretense, where danger dressed in tailored silence, he took you out for dinner — and undressed you with every glance.

Warnings: suggestive

Word Count: 1411

Pairing: Rob Lucci x AFAB!Reader

crossposted on AO3

The restaurant was suspended in the upper reaches of the Mariejois skyline, all glittering glass and soft piano music, soaked in golden light that caught on every crystal glass and polished utensil. The kind of place that catered to the political elite, the untouchable echelon of the World Government, and those who served it well. Which, of course, meant Rob Lucci.

He arrived precisely on time, of course — precision and punctuality etched into every bone and breath of him. But tonight, he wasn’t in uniform. Tonight, he wore a black three-piece suit, tailored sharp enough to cut, his tie a muted crimson that matched the thin lining of his long coat. His golden leopard pin glinted faintly at his collar.

You spotted him across the room before he saw you. Or maybe he had seen you first and didn’t let it show.

Either way, he moved toward you with that effortless, predatory grace of his — each step measured, heavy with purpose. His eyes, cold and green, dragged across your figure with such control it sent heat straight to your spine. The waiter who had been chatting with you disappeared the moment Lucci’s shadow passed over him.

He offered no smile. He never did.

But when he reached you, his hand rose to your cheek, brushing back a strand of hair. His touch was slow, deliberate — an intimate luxury reserved for you alone.

“You look stunning.”

It was simple, almost clinical in tone, but you’d learned to read the layers under his voice. The drop in register. The way he said it like a fact, not a compliment. As if it was inevitable that you’d look this good tonight.

“And you look like someone who might throw a wine glass if the appetizers are late.” You teased softly.

His lips twitched — not quite a smile, but close enough to make your chest flutter.

The two of you were led to a private booth overlooking the city, the window stretching floor-to-ceiling. The view was breathtaking. But all you could focus on was him.

He sat across from you, straight-backed and silent, hands folded neatly in his lap as the server poured a deep burgundy wine into your glasses. You could feel the weight of his gaze over the rim of the crystal. Watching you. Always watching.

“You’ve been working non-stop,” you finally said, swirling the wine gently. “I’m surprised you agreed to come out.”

“This isn’t a waste of time.” He said it plainly. Like his presence here wasn’t a compromise, but a strategy.

“So I’m your tactical advantage tonight?”

“You’re my reprieve.”

That made you blink.

He didn’t look away from you. In the low light, his eyes looked less like emerald and more like raw, uncut glass. Still sharp. Still unreadable. But behind them, something flickered. Restlessness. Hunger. Not the kind that food would fix.

You shifted in your seat as the first course arrived — light, delicate, beautifully plated — and tried not to focus on the way Lucci’s hand brushed yours as he passed you the bread. Or how his gaze drifted down to the curve of your neck every time you sipped from your glass.

He was a man of quiet appetite. But tonight, something was stirring just beneath the surface.

By the time dessert arrived, you felt it fully — like static electricity clinging to the air between you. A tension that had nothing to do with the candlelight or the fine dining.

Lucci leaned forward slightly, voice pitched low.

“You’re flushed.”

You blinked. “Maybe it’s the wine.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth.

“No. It’s me.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t reach for you, didn’t raise his voice. But the power of him — that caged violence coiled behind a composed exterior — pressed down over the table like gravity. He could make you feel cornered with a glance. Worshiped, too, in his own brutal way.

When he finally did reach for your hand, it was with a tenderness so at odds with his reputation that it almost startled you. His thumb brushed slow circles over your knuckles. He looked calm. But under the table, you saw the tension in his legs. The way his jaw had gone tight.

“Come with me,” he murmured.

He didn’t wait for dessert to be cleared.

The walk through the ornate lobby was silent, and the descent down the wide staircase even more so — though the warmth of his hand against the small of your back spoke louder than any words could. Outside, under the glow of marine-grade lanterns and watchful Den Den Mushi cameras, a sleek black carriage awaited.

Its shell was lacquered wood reinforced with metal, the emblem of the World Government embossed on the doors. Large, swift lizards in polished harnesses stood hitched at the front — beasts bred for silent speed, their scaled tails flicking in anticipation. One of Lucci’s CP0 subordinates stood as the driver, face hidden behind a white mask, expression unreadable.

He opened the door for you. You climbed in first, followed by Lucci’s silent shadow.

The moment the door shut and the carriage began to move, you felt it — the shift. The air between you tightened. The soft glow of the lanterns inside lit the fine cut of his jaw, the glint of gold buttons on his collar, the ever-present stillness in his posture.

But when he turned to you, shadows danced in his eyes.

His tie was still perfect. His suit unwrinkled. And yet, when he leaned in and kissed you, it was with a hunger that broke past every inch of discipline he wore like armor.

No words. No warning.

His mouth crashed into yours with deliberate slowness, as if savoring the tension he’d let build all night. One hand slipped firmly up your thigh — calloused, warm, possessive. The carriage rocked gently with each curve it took, the sounds of hooves and wheels muffled beneath layers of silencing Seastone lining.

You gasped as he pulled you across the plush bench seat, his palm cradling the back of your head. He didn’t yank — he guided. Controlled. Inevitable. His teeth grazed your lower lip before he broke the kiss, voice low against your skin:

“You’ve been distracting me all night.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

Another kiss — slow, deeper this time, and laced with heat. Your protest died in your throat.

His other hand slid up your torso, fingers ghosting over silk and heat and skin. You felt his touch with aching clarity — not rushed. Not clumsy. Precise. Like he was memorizing you again.

“When I get you home,” he murmured against your jaw, “you won’t be leaving the bed until morning.”

But when he did get you home, he didn’t ravage you the way the threat implied. No — Lucci’s version of intimacy was quiet. Methodical. Deliberate.

In the privacy of his apartment — walls dark, windows tall, and everything minimal — he helped you out of your dress with reverence. He touched your skin like something he had earned, not taken.

And when he finally laid you down, naked beneath him, his hands braced on either side of your head, Lucci didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

His eyes — still so cool, so unreadable — locked onto yours. Watching. Waiting. Listening to every breath, every shift of your hips, every pulse of your body beneath his.

His love was made of control. Of heat sheathed in steel.

But with you, in these moments, he gave it freely.

And you, trembling under the weight of his focus, gave everything back.

Later, long after, when your body was worn and the storm had passed, he laid beside you. One arm tucked under your shoulders, the other resting protectively over your stomach. His fingers idly stroked your skin — not absently, but like a ritual.

You turned your head into the crook of his neck.

“You didn’t even touch your dessert.”

“I had better.” His voice was flat. But you caught the faint flicker of smugness in it.

You chuckled softly and closed your eyes, his scent — clean, dark, faintly spiced — filling your lungs.

A long pause.

And then his voice again, barely above a whisper:

“Next week. I want to take you somewhere quieter.”

Your eyes opened. “You planning more dates now?”

“I don’t plan,” he said. “I choose.”

Another beat.

“And I choose you.”

You smiled into his chest. And for once, you could swear — just barely — that his arms tightened around you like the words had meaning even he didn’t fully understand.