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gyuuberryy · 3 months ago

Text

pushing on my buttons!

pairing: bodyguard!jay x rich ceo's daughter!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, tension

synopsis: after a kidnapping attempt, your father hires jay, a cold and infuriating bodyguard you can’t seem to get rid of. you push his buttons at every turn, but as danger closes in, the tension between you turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable connection neither of you can ignore.

warnings: mentions of blood, a bit of fighting, kissing

note: i'm dropping smth two months later finallyy(i'm still in the middle of exams AGAIN). i feel like this is not my best work, i had a major writer's block with it and ended up making it basic? idk i haven't been feeling well recently with the insane amount of workload i have since the start of this year and the burn out shows in this ughh. i hope the fic isn't too bad TT enjoy!

word count 5.8k

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3 | taglist

the heavy oak doors of your father’s office loomed before you, their polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the hallway chandelier. you paused, your fingers hovering over your phone screen, scrolling through a feed of designer handbags you didn’t need but absolutely wanted.

the text from your father had been curt, almost ominous: “my office. now.”

you rolled your eyes. it was probably about the credit card statement again. you had a perfectly good excuse ready—charity auction, obviously. he’d buy it. he always did.

with a sigh, you pushed the doors open, not bothering to knock. “you rang?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you leaned against the doorframe, still engrossed in your phone.

your father didn’t look up from his desk. “sit,” he commanded, his voice sharp enough to make you glance up.

you blinked. okay. not a good sign.

it was then that you noticed him. the man standing beside your father, a silent shadow in the room. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed entirely in black—black tactical pants, black fitted shirt, black boots that looked like they could crush a skull without breaking a sweat. his arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed but somehow radiating intensity. his face was all sharp angles and hard lines, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the room with a precision that made you feel like he’d already dissected every inch of it—and you along with it.

you straightened, your phone slipping into your pocket as you took a step forward. “who’s this?” you asked, your tone light but laced with suspicion.

your father gestured toward the man, his expression unyielding. “this is jay. your new bodyguard.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and absurd. then you laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound that echoed off the mahogany walls. “you’re joking.”

your father didn’t laugh. neither did jay. in fact, jay didn’t so much as twitch. his expression remained impassive, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

you turned back to your father, your laughter fading into a scoff. “this isn’t necessary. i’m not in danger. that whole kidnapping thing? a fluke. it’s been weeks and nothing’s happened.”

your father’s jaw tightened. “which is exactly why you need protection. we’re not taking any chances.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but jay beat you to it. his voice was low, calm, and infuriatingly even. “i’m not here to be liked, just to do my job.”

your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. excuse me?

he met your glare without flinching, his expression as unreadable as a stone wall. he didn’t care. not about your annoyance, not about your defiance, not about you. the realisation made your blood boil.

“congratulations on the worst job in existence,” you said coolly, tilting your head as you studied him. “because i’m not some damsel in distress.”

jay didn’t blink. “right. you handled the last situation so well.”

your jaw dropped. the audacity. “excuse you—”

“enough,” your father interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting this entire conversation. “jay will be with you at all times. this isn’t up for discussion.”

you stared at him, then at jay, who was still standing there like some brooding statue, completely unfazed. your mind raced, already plotting ways to make his life a living hell. fine. if this was happening, you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

you flashed jay a sweet, taunting smile, the kind that usually made people nervous. “try and keep up.”

his lips twitched—just barely—but it wasn’t a smile. more like a challenge accepted. “i don’t plan on falling behind.”

oh, you already hated him. hated the way he looked at you like you were a problem to be solved, hated the way he stood there like he owned the room, hated the way his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. but most of all, you hated that he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by you.

your father exhaled, clearly done with the conversation. “jay will start immediately. i expect you to cooperate.”

you didn’t respond. instead, you turned on your heel and strode toward the door, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. you could feel jay’s eyes on your back, tracking your every move, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over your shoulder. let him try to keep up. you were already planning your first escape.

as the doors swung shut behind you, you couldn��t help but smirk. this was going to be fun.

the first twenty-four hours with jay as your shadow were unbearable. it wasn’t just his constant presence—it’s the way he moves like he knows what you’re about to do before you do it, like some kind of infuriating psychic in tactical gear.

you woke up to find him standing right outside your bedroom door. arms crossed, eyes alert, posture straight. like a soldier. like a statue. like someone who had absolutely no life outside of making yours miserable.

you glare at him, silk robe slipping off your shoulder, hair a mess. “do you ever sleep? or do you just stand there like a creep all night?”

jay doesn’t react. not even a twitch. his gaze flicks over you, assessing, before looking away.

he didn’t react. not even a twitch. his dark eyes flicked over you briefly, assessing, before he looked away, his expression as blank as ever.

“good morning,” he said, his tone flat.

you rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face.

when you went to get coffee, he was already there, waiting. the barista gave him a once-over, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the faint scar that ran along his jawline. then they glanced at you, their eyebrows raised in a silent question: are you okay? do you need help?

you forced a smile. “he’s harmless,” you said, though the words tasted like a lie. jay didn’t so much as blink.

you grabbed your latte and stormed out, jay falling into step behind you like some kind of silent, brooding ghost. you could feel his eyes on your back, watching, always watching. it was suffocating.

in meetings, it was worse. you sat at the head of the conference table, your laptop open, your team discussing quarterly projections, and there he was—standing against the far wall, arms still crossed, his gaze sweeping the room like he was expecting an ambush at any moment. every time you glanced his way, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.

you tried to ignore him. you really did. but his presence was like a thundercloud hovering over the room, dark and oppressive. by the time the meeting ended, you were ready to scream.

you had to get rid of him immediately.

attempt #1: the emergency exit

it was simple, really. you waited until you were in the middle of a crowded lobby with jay, your phone pressed to your ear, your face the picture of distress. “no—no, stay right there, i’ll be there in five minutes,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. then you slipped out the back door, quick, smooth, victorious.

you couldn’t help but grin as you rounded the corner, your heart racing with the thrill of escape. finally, some freedom. finally, some—

jay was already there.

leaning against your car, arms still crossed, not even looking at you. like he’d been waiting for hours. like he’d known exactly where you’d go.

you froze, your smile slipping. “how the hell—”

he finally acknowledged you, tilting his head just slightly. his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk. “you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

your fingers clenched into fists. oh. it was war.

attempt #2: the disappearing act

you waited until you were at a charity gala, the kind of event where everyone was too busy sipping champagne and gossipping to notice anything amiss. you slipped into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, your movements quick and deliberate. you ducked behind a potted plant, then made your way to the service entrance, your heart pounding with excitement.

you were almost there. almost free. and then—

“leaving so soon?”

you whirled around, your breath catching in your throat. jay stood in the doorway, his arms still crossed, his expression as calm as ever. he didn’t even look winded.

“how do you keep doing that?” you demanded, your voice rising.

he shrugged, the motion infuriatingly casual. “it’s my job.”

“your job is to annoy me to death?”

“if that’s what it takes to keep you alive, then yes.”

you glared at him, your chest heaving with frustration. he stared back, unflinching, his dark eyes boring into yours. for a moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, and you wanted to so badly give into it and just cause a tantrum. instead, you turned on your heel and stormed back into the gala, jay following close behind.

attempt #3: sensory overload

the mall was a chaotic symphony of chatter, clattering shopping bags, and the faint hum of pop music playing over the speakers. you strode through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, your eyes darting toward the exit signs. jay was a step behind you, his presence as unshakable as ever. his dark eyes scanned the crowd, his posture tense, like he was expecting a sniper to take a shot at any moment.

you rolled your eyes. “relax, rambo. it’s a mall, not a war zone.”

he didn’t respond. of course he didn’t. he just kept walking, his gaze flicking toward you every few seconds, like he was making sure you hadn’t somehow vanished into thin air.

you gritted your teeth. this was supposed to be your day. you had a date with someone your mutual friend had set you up with. your father had forbidden you from going, but since when had you ever listened to him? and yet, here was jay, ruining everything like some overgrown shadow you couldn’t shake.

you bit back a sigh. if you wanted to shake him, you’d have to get creative.

spotting a perfume shop up ahead, you darted inside, the overwhelming scent of floral and citrus hitting you instantly. jay followed without hesitation, his towering frame making the narrow aisles feel even smaller.

“why are we here?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

“to test some new scents,” you replied innocently, grabbing a random bottle and spraying it on your wrist. “you wouldn’t understand.”

jay raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

you tried a few more perfumes, using up the space on your wrists and arms. finally, you turned to him, holding up a bottle.

“hold out your arm.”

jay blinked. “what?”

“you’re supposed to test it on skin,” you said, your tone overly patient. “and i’m out of space. come on.”

reluctantly, he extended his arm. you sprayed the perfume lightly on his wrist and leaned in, inhaling deeply.

jay tensed under your touch, his muscles stiffening as your fingers brushed his skin. you glanced up, noticing the tightness in his jaw, but you didn’t comment.

“it’s not bad,” you said, tilting your head. “but maybe something lighter.”

you reached for another bottle, quickly spraying it on his other wrist. this time, you didn’t stop at one spray. you pressed the nozzle again and again, filling the air with an overpowering mix of scents.

jay sneezed once, then twice, stumbling back a step as he tried to clear his nose.

“what the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled between sneezes.

“just testing!” you said, holding up your hands in mock innocence. “you’re being dramatic.”

jay glared at you, but before he could recover, you dropped the perfume bottle and bolted, weaving through the crowded store and out into the mall. you didn’t look back. you didn’t need to. you could hear his footsteps behind you, heavy and determined.

your heart raced as you sprinted through the mall, dodging shoppers and strollers. you spotted a clothing store up ahead, its entrance tucked away in a quieter corner. perfect. you ducked inside, your breath coming in short gasps as you scanned the store. the dressing rooms. that was your best bet.

you darted toward them, slipping into the first stall you saw. you yanked the curtain closed, your chest heaving as you pressed your back against the wall. for a moment, there was silence. then you heard it—the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching the stall.

the curtain flew open, and there he was. jay. his chest was rising and falling slightly, his dark eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped into the stall, his body crowding yours as he pinned you against the wall. the curtain fell shut behind him, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.

you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. he was so close you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumped in his neck. his hands were braced on either side of your head, his body caging you in. the air between you was thick with tension, the kind that made your stomach twist and your heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with running.

“you’re not as clever as you think you are,” he said, his voice low and rough.

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “and you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk. “try me.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue. his eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, and something shifted between you. the air crackled with electricity, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body seemed to press closer without actually moving.

for a moment, neither of you moved. then jay stepped back, his expression shuttering as he regained control. “let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped.

you didn’t argue. for once, you didn’t have the words.

the party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume, champagne, and the faint hum of a live jazz band. you stood near the centre of the room, dressed in a sleek black gown that hugged your figure perfectly, a glass of champagne in hand. you laughed at something your friend said, the sound light and carefree, but your attention was elsewhere.

jay.

he was standing across the room, leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on you. he wasn’t even trying to hide it. he was watching you like a hawk, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense enough to make your skin prickle.

your friend leaned in, her voice low and teasing. “he’s been looking at you all night.”

you shrugged, pretending not to care. “who? jay? he’s just doing his job.”

but the truth was, you did care. you were hyper-aware of him now, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. and it annoyed you. it annoyed you that he could stand there, so calm and collected, while you felt like you were unravelling.

so you decided to push him.

you flirted with everyone but him. you laughed a little too loudly at a joke a handsome stranger made. you let your hand linger on the arm of a guy who clearly had no idea what personal space was. you disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, pretending jay didn’t exist.

but he did. he always did.

suddenly, a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky grin—stepped into your space, his hand hovering near your waist as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. his breath smelled like whisky, the proximity way too close for your comfort.

you froze, your smile faltering. before you could react, jay was there.

he moved like a shadow, swift and silent, stepping between you and the man with a presence that was impossible to ignore. his voice was cool but sharp, cutting through the noise of the party like a knife. “hands off.”

the man blinked, his grin faltering as he took in jay’s imposing figure. “whoa, man, i was just—”

“i don’t care what you were just doing,” jay said, his tone low and dangerous. “back off.”

the man hesitated, his eyes flicking between you and jay, before he finally raised his hands in surrender and slunk away. you stared after him, stunned, your heart pounding in your chest.

when you turned back to jay, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “you have no idea what you’re doing.”

your breath caught. “what are you talking about?”

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice rough and tinged with something that sounded almost like frustration. “flirting with strangers. disappearing into crowds. acting like you’re invincible. you’re not.”

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i can take care of myself.”

“can you?” he asked, his tone challenging. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. he was close—too close—his body crowding yours, his heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and something woodsy, and it made your head spin.

as the night wore on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, rough and low and so, so close. you caught yourself glancing at him more than once, your heart skipping a beat every time your eyes met his.

oh.

so he did care.

it happens slowly. or maybe it doesn’t. maybe it’s been happening this whole time, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for you to notice. but now, you do.

you start noticing the way he moves. always a step ahead, always positioning himself between you and anything that could be a threat. his sleeves are always rolled up, revealing the veins that line his forearms, his hands steady and sure. you notice the way he watches you, his dark eyes scanning every room like he’s mapping out every possible danger, but it’s never just that. there’s something else in his gaze, something you can’t quite name.

and worse? you start feeling it.

the heat in your chest when his hand brushes yours as he passes you a coffee. the frustration that coils in your stomach when someone else looks at him for too long. the way your breath catches when he says your name instead of brat or princess or whatever sarcastic nickname he’s come up with that day.

this is a problem.

but you handle it the way you always do—by pushing him.

it’s late, with the city feeling quiet, almost peaceful, and the only light comes from the flickering neon sign of a 24-hour diner. you’re sitting in a booth by the window, picking at a plate of fries you didn’t really want but ordered anyway because you were too stubborn to admit you were hungry. jay sits across from you, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the nearly empty diner like it’s a potential battlefield.

you roll your eyes. “relax, jay. the only danger here is the cholesterol in these fries.”

he just takes a sip of his black coffee, his expression as unreadable as ever.

you lean back in the booth, crossing your arms over your chest. “you know, you don’t have to babysit me 24/7. i’m not a child.”

his eyes flick to yours, sharp and assessing. “could’ve fooled me.”

you glare at him. “excuse me?”

he sets his coffee cup down, his voice low and even. “you act like rules don’t apply to you. like you’re invincible. you’re not.”

your jaw tightens. “and you act like you’re my dad. newsflash—you’re not.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the tension between you is thick, almost suffocating, and you can feel it building, building, building until it finally snaps.

“why do you even care so much?” you demand, your voice rising just enough to draw the attention of the tired-looking waitress behind the counter.

jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t get it, do you?”

your heartbeat stutters. “then explain it to me.”

for a second, he says nothing. he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure you out. then he stands, slow and deliberate, and slides into the booth beside you. he’s close now, closer than he’s ever let himself be, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.

you don’t back away.

his eyes flicker to your lips, and your breath catches. the air between you is so thin, so sharp you can almost taste it.

he leans in, his voice low and rough. “you have no idea what i’d do to keep you safe.”

your pulse is in your throat, waiting, waiting, waiting.

but before anything can happen—

the bell above the diner door jingles, and a group of loud, laughing teenagers spills inside, shattering the moment.

jay pulls back instantly, his jaw tightening as he slides out of the booth. he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word. he just walks to the counter, his posture rigid, like nothing happened.

like nothing almost happened.

but you know better.

you press a hand to your chest, trying to steady your heartbeat, but it’s no use. your mind is racing, replaying the moment over and over again—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, the way your body had reacted to his nearness.

this is getting dangerous.

later, as you sit in the back of the car on the way home, you can’t stop thinking about it. jay is in the driver’s seat, his eyes fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. you stare at the back of his head, your thoughts a tangled mess.

you think about the way he’d stepped between you and that guy at the party, his voice sharp and commanding. you think about the way he’d leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

and you think about the way he’d pulled away, like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean anything.

but it did. you know it did.

you mentally groan, leaning your head against the window. this is a problem. a big problem. because no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you can’t deny it anymore.

you like him.

and that’s the most dangerous thing of all.

you don’t talk about it.

the almost-kiss, the tension that stains every interaction now—it hangs between you like a live wire, sharp and charged. you find yourself watching him more, catching the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. his gaze lingers a little too long, his movements a little too deliberate, and it drives you insane.

but you don’t talk about it.

instead, you push. you push him, you push yourself, you push the boundaries of whatever this is between you. and he pushes back, always steady, always in control, until—

one day it happens fast. too fast.

you’re walking back to the car after an event, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement. jay is a step behind you, his presence a constant, grounding force. you’re arguing about something stupid—something meaningless—because that’s what you do now. you bicker, you snipe, you push each other’s buttons, all while pretending the tension between you doesn’t exist.

and then, out of nowhere, it happens.

you don’t even see it coming. one moment, you’re stepping off the curb, and the next, jay is moving—swift, silent, and utterly precise. he shoves you out of the way, his body shielding yours as a figure lunges at you from the shadows.

there’s a flash of metal, a grunt of pain, and then the sound of footsteps retreating into the night.

you stumble, catching yourself against the car, your heart pounding in your chest. “jay—”

he’s already turning, his hand pressed to his side, his breathing steady despite the blood seeping through his fingers. “get in the car.”

you stare at him, your mind racing. “you’re bleeding. we need to go to the hospital—l”

“it’s nothing, just a scratch” he says, his voice calm, like this is just another day on the job. like he didn’t just take a knife for you.

but it’s not nothing. it’s not nothing because your hands are shaking as you reach for him, your fingers brushing against the warm, sticky blood staining his shirt. “jay—”

“get in the car,” he repeats, his tone sharper this time. “now.”

you don’t argue. you can’t. your mind is a blur as you climb into the passenger seat, your eyes never leaving him as he slides behind the wheel. his movements are steady, controlled, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel.

the drive home is silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. you keep glancing at him, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. fear. guilt. something else.

when you finally arrive, you follow him inside, your hands still trembling. he heads straight for the bathroom, and you trail after him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“let me see,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t argue this time. he just sits on the edge of the bathtub, his shirt already half-off, revealing the deep gash along his side. it’s not fatal, not even close, but it’s enough to make your stomach twist.

you grab the first aid kit from under the sink and kneel in front of him, your hands shaking as you clean the wound. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and unreadable.

“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say, your voice breaking. “you shouldn’t have—”

“it’s my job,” he interrupts, his tone calm, like that explains everything.

but it doesn’t. not to you. not when your hands are stained with his blood, not when your chest feels like it’s about to collapse under the weight of everything you’re feeling.

“don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “don’t do that again.”

he looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours, and for the first time, you see it—the crack in his armour. the flicker of something raw, something real.

“you don’t get it,” he says, his voice low and rough. “i’d do it again. every time.”

your breath catches, your hands still pressed against his side. “why?”

he doesn’t answer. not with words, at least. instead, he reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch so gentle it makes your chest ache.

and that’s it. that’s the breaking point.

you don’t think. you don’t hesitate. you just pull him in, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperation and relief. for a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, and you’re terrified you’ve made a mistake.

but then his hands are in your hair, his mouth moving against yours, and it’s like the world stops. the tension, the anger, the fear, it all melts away, leaving nothing but the two of you.

the room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the overhead light. jay’s hands are still tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. you can feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rests against his chest, and it’s almost comforting, knowing he’s as affected by this as you are.

but then he pulls back, his expression shuttering as he regains control. “we shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low and rough.

you blink, your chest tightening at his words. “why not?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he stands, his movements stiff as he turns away from you. “because it complicates things.”

you stare at him, your heart sinking. “complicates things? jay, you just took a knife for me. i think things are already complicated.”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t understand.”

“then explain it to me,” you snap, your frustration bubbling over. “because i’m tired of pretending like this—whatever this is—doesn’t exist.”

he turns to look at you, his dark eyes blazing with something you can’t quite name. “you think i don’t feel it too? you think i don’t want—” he cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as he looks away. “it doesn’t matter what i want. my job is to keep you safe. that’s it.”

you step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “and what if i don’t want you to just be my bodyguard? what if i want more?”

he doesn’t respond. not with words, at least. but you can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. for a moment, you think he might give in, might finally let himself feel something.

but then he steps back, his expression hardening. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

you laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “don’t i? because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re the one who’s scared.”

his eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you’ve pushed him too far. but then he exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “you’re right. i am scared. because if something happens to you—if i let myself care too much and i can’t protect you—” he cuts himself off, his voice breaking. “i can’t lose you.”

your breath catches, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. “jay—”

he doesn’t let you finish. instead, he steps forward, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you again. this time, it’s softer, slower, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you. and you let him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pull him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. “i can’t promise this will be easy,” he says, his voice low and rough. “but i can promise i’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

you swallow, your throat tight with emotion. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

you don’t talk about it for a full twenty-four hours.

not because you regret it. god, no. if anything, the memory of his hands on you, his lips against yours, plays on a loop in your mind, leaving you breathless every time. but now, there’s no going back. no pretending this isn’t real. no pretending you don’t feel the way his presence sets your skin on fire, or the way your heart races when he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

jay is still jay. still overprotective, still infuriating, still the same stoic bodyguard who drives you up the wall. but now?

now, every argument ends with him pulling you in by the waist, his voice low and rough as he murmurs, “you’re impossible,” before silencing you with a kiss.

now, every lingering stare actually leads to something—a brush of his hand against yours, a heated glance that makes your stomach flip, a moment where the tension between you becomes too much to ignore.

and now, your father figures it out almost immediately.

it happens during a family dinner, of all things. you’re sitting at the table, picking at your food while jay sits in his usual spot by you. your father is at the head of the table, his sharp gaze flicking between you and jay with a calculating look that makes your stomach sink.

you try to act normal. you really do. but when jay’s hand brushes against yours as he passes you a glass of water, and you catch yourself smiling at him without thinking, your father clears his throat.

“so,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “when were you planning on telling me?”

you freeze, your fork halfway to your mouth. “telling you what?”

your father raises an eyebrow, gesturing between you and jay. “about this.”

you feel your face heat, your heart pounding in your chest. “i—what are you talking about?”

your father sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s already done with this conversation. “at least it’s him.”

jay freezes, his posture stiffening as he looks at your father. you gape, your mind racing. “excuse me?”

your father shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “you were always a handful, but he can handle it.”

you stare at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. this is not the reaction you were expecting. not even close. you were prepared for yelling, for threats, for jay to be fired on the spot. but this? this casual acceptance? it’s almost worse.

you turn to jay, still reeling. “is this really happening?”

jay looks equally disturbed, his jaw tight as he meets your father’s gaze. “sir, i—”

your father holds up a hand, cutting him off. “don’t. just… keep her out of trouble. that’s all i ask.”

and just like that, the conversation is over. your father goes back to his meal like nothing happened, leaving you and jay to exchange a stunned look.

later, when you’re alone in your room, jay leans against the door, his arms crossed as he watches you pace back and forth. “well,” he says, his voice dry, “that could’ve gone worse.”

you stop pacing, turning to glare at him. “worse? he basically gave us his blessing. that’s not worse. that’s… i don’t even know what that is.”

jay shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “guess you’re stuck with me.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away when he steps closer, his hands settling on your waist. “lucky me,” you mutter, though the way your heart skips a beat betrays your words.

jay’s smirk softens into something warmer, his eyes searching yours. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you don’t respond. not with words, at least. instead, you lean into him, your hands resting against his chest as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “just don’t let it go to your head, okay?”

he chuckles, the sound low and warm, before leaning down to kiss you. and as his lips brush against yours, you realise something.

maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to pull away.

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barnacles34 · 2 months ago

Text

Mutually Assured Destruction

Chaewon x Male Reader

Tags: Angst, Smut

9k words

The world is, simply put, against you.

You love Chaewon.

But you can't tell her. Not yet.

New York. Day twenty-one. The hotel hallway stretches before you, each step toward her room heavier than the last.

Your tie feels too tight, your collar suffocating—the uniform of an executive becoming the noose of a condemned man.

Three weeks of silence. Three weeks of seeing her across rooms, of catching her scent in empty elevators, of watching her perform while pretending she was nothing more than a company asset.

Three weeks of dying slowly.

You knock. The sound echoes in the empty corridor. One heartbeat. Two. The door opens.

Chaewon stands there, barefoot, in simple shorts and an oversized t-shirt. No makeup. No stage presence. Just her.

The most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

‘You came,’ she whispers, like she still can't believe it.

You step inside, the door closing behind you with a soft click. The sound of the outside world being shut away.

For a moment, neither of you moves. Three feet of carpet between you might as well be an ocean.

Then she breaks, a dam of tears giving way after holding back too long. She crosses the distance, collides with you, arms wrapping around your waist, face buried in your chest.

‘I haven't seen you for 3 weeks,’ she mumbles against your jacket, her voice cracking, fighting tears that are already falling.

You want to speak, but your throat closes. Her name forms in your mind—a prayer, a plea.

Chaewon.

Her fingers clutch at your jacket, desperate, like you might disappear if she loosens her grip.

‘I am so unhappy,’ she whispers, the words muffled against the fabric.

Your hand moves of its own accord, finding the back of her head, cradling it gently. Her hair is soft between your fingers, just as you'd dreamed during those endless nights alone.

Chaewon!

‘I am so stupid,’ she continues, her whole body trembling. ‘Dear, I cannot live without you. You know this.’

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her face tear-streaked, eyes red-rimmed and vulnerable. She's so close now, her cheek just an inch from yours, her breath warm against your skin.

You dare not look directly at her—afraid that if you do, all your carefully constructed walls will crumble.

Instead, your gaze falls to her shoulder, exposed where the sweater has slipped. Her skin is like milk, almost translucent in the soft hotel light, with that hint of pink beneath that makes her seem both fragile and impossibly alive.

Oh, you want her so badly.

The weight of the past bears down on you. When you were younger, life felt limitless—an odyssey of possibility stretching endlessly before you.

But youth is a loan that must be repaid. Each choice carries consequences. Each victory seemingly increasing the magnitude of future defeat.

How strange to realize you can barely remember the person you were before all this. Before her.

It's as if you've been playing a role for so long—the ambitious executive, the company man—that you've forgotten who you really are.

Her hands move to your face, fingertips gentle against your jaw, tilting your gaze to meet hers.

‘Look at me,’ she whispers. ‘Please.’

You do, and it undoes you. The nakedness of her emotion. The love written so plainly across her features.

‘I love you,’ she says, the words hanging in the air between you. ‘I've always loved you.’

Everything in you wants to say it back. To cross that final line.

To throw away everything—your career, your reputation, your carefully constructed life—just to hold her without fear.

But you can't. Not because you don't love her, but because loving her means protecting her. And right now, loving her means waiting.

‘Not yet,’ you whisper, the words catching in your throat as you brush away a tear from her cheek with your thumb. ‘Not yet.’

The pain in her eyes is unbearable. But there's understanding there too, buried beneath the hurt.

She leans forward, resting her forehead against your chest.

‘How much longer?’ she asks, her voice small.

You have no answer. Only the weight of what stands between you—the company, the threats, the world that has decided your love is forbidden.

Your mouth feels clamped shut, your vocal cords frozen, your eyes burning with tears you refuse to shed.

In the end, you say nothing more.

You hold her for one more moment, committing to memory the weight of her in your arms, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against yours.

Then you let go. Turn away. Walk to the door.

And leave.

—

Chaewon's Diary - May 15, 2025

I cannot remember feeling this way before. The emotions are too new, too raw to categorize.

Rejection should feel bitter. Should taste like failure. Instead, it tasted like promise.

I stood before him, heart exposed, only to hear those two impossible words: ‘Not yet.’

Not never. Not no. Not goodbye.

Not yet.

I should have been humiliated. Should have been angry. Instead, when he brushed the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs, I felt known. Truly seen, perhaps for the first time.

When he uttered

‘Not yet’

I felt warm. Happy.

How am I so happy for rejection?

I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch, memorizing the feeling of his hands on my face, his breath mingling with mine.

Before him, I had never felt the touch of someone who could see past my surface, past the idol, past the carefully crafted image.

I want him.

I know with absolute certainty: No other man will touch my heart for as long as I live.

I will wait, forever and longer.

Not yet.

—

3 Weeks Ago - April 25, 2025

You were staring at a spreadsheet when Chaewon walked in without knocking.

'Hey,' she said.

You kept typing. 'Hey.'

She stood there for a second too long before sitting down across from you. Put her coffee on your desk. The ice shifted.

'So.'

'So,' you echoed, still not looking up.

'You eat yet?'

'What?'

'Food. Have you had any?'

You glanced at your watch. It was almost 8. 'No.'

'Me neither,' she said. 'We should fix that.'

You finally looked at her. She was wearing the same clothes from the morning meeting, but her makeup had that slightly smudged quality of someone who'd been awake too long.

'I've got to finish this,' you said.

'No you don't.'

'I do, actually.'

She sighed. 'Will the company collapse if you don't do it right this second?'

'That's not the point.'

'That's exactly the point.' She tapped your desk with her fingernail. 'Come on. Food. A real restaurant. Thirty minutes.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'Liar.'

You almost smiled. 'I have work.'

'Work will still be there.' She didn't blink. 'Food might not.'

'That makes no sense.'

'I know. Just come anyway.'

You looked at your laptop, then back at her. She had that expression, the one that said she wouldn't leave until she got her way.

'Thirty minutes.'

She grinned. 'Look at you, making healthy choices.'

'Don't push it.'

The elevator ride was quiet. Not uncomfortable, just quiet. You both watched the numbers change.

'Where are we going?' you asked.

'Place down the street.'

'What kind of place?'

'The kind with food.' She glanced at you. 'You allergic to anything?'

'No.'

'Good.' She seemed satisfied with that.

Outside, the air felt different. Heavier. Like it might rain again.

'So is this like, a work thing, or...' you trailed off.

'Or what?'

'I don't know. You asked me to dinner.'

'Yeah.'

'So I'm just trying to understand what this is.'

She almost laughed. 'It's food. That's all. Don't overthink it.'

'I'm not overthinking.'

'You overthink everything. It's your whole deal.'

'That's not fair.'

'Probably not—but hey, fair character assessment is a luxury these days.' she giggled.

You huffed under your breath.

You walked together, not quite in step. The city moved around you—people leaving work, heading home, living lives that had nothing to do with quarterly reports or dance practices.

The restaurant was small. Unassuming. No sign outside, just a door between two other businesses.

'Here?' you asked.

'Yeah. Problem?'

'No. Just not what I expected.'

'What did you expect?'

You shrugged. 'Something with a line outside. Trending on Instagram.'

'Wow.' She held the door for you. 'You really don't know me at all.'

Inside was dimly lit. Maybe fifteen tables. Half of them occupied. No one looked up when you entered.

You followed her to a table near the back. Sat down across from her. The menus were just single sheets of paper.

'I come here a lot,' she said. 'After practice sometimes. When I don't want to go back to the dorm.'

'They don't recognize you?'

'They do. They just don't care.' She looked at the menu even though she probably had it memorized. 'That's why I like it.'

The waiter came over. Older guy, maybe fifty. Nodded at Chaewon like he'd seen her yesterday.

'The usual?' he asked her.

'Yeah. Thanks.'

He looked at you.

'Uh,' you fumbled with the menu. 'What's good?'

'Steak,' Chaewon said. 'You like steak, right? You seem like a steak guy.'

'Sure.'

'Medium rare?'

'Medium.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Of course.'

The waiter left. You fidgeted with your napkin.

'You really come here a lot?' you asked.

'Couple times a month.'

'Alone?'

'Usually.'

'Why?'

She looked at you like she was deciding whether to give you a real answer or not. 'Because no one bothers me. Because the food's good. Because sometimes I need to remember I'm still just a person.'

'And your members don't come?'

'They have their own places.' She took a sip of water. 'We don't actually do everything together, you know.'

'Right.'

'You sound surprised.'

'Not surprised. Just...' you couldn't find the right word.

'It's fine. People always think we're this perfect unit. Always together, always in sync.' She traced a pattern on the tablecloth with her finger. 'It's not like that.'

'What's it like?'

'It's like any job. You work with people. You care about them. But you still need your own space sometimes.'

'That makes sense.'

'Does it? You seem like the type who'd live at the office if they'd let you.'

You almost denied it, then didn't. 'Fair point.'

The food came faster than you expected. Her pasta. Your steak. Simple stuff, but it smelled good.

'This isn't exactly what I pictured when you said dinner,' you admitted.

'What did you picture?'

'I don't know. Something more...'

'Fancy?'

'Maybe.'

She shrugged. 'I sit in enough fancy restaurants for work. This is better.'

You took a bite of steak. It was actually good. Really good.

'Not bad,' you said.

'High praise.'

'It is, from me.'

'I know.' She twirled pasta around her fork. 'So, can I ask you something?'

'You just did.'

'Ha ha.' She didn't look amused. 'Seriously though.'

'Go ahead.'

'Do you actually like what you do? Your job?'

You considered bullshitting, then didn't. 'Sometimes.'

'Which parts?'

'The quiet ones. When I'm working on something complicated and it's just me and the problem.' You cut another piece of steak. 'You?'

'Performing. Being on stage. The three minutes where nothing else matters.' She didn't hesitate. 'Everything else is just... stuff I do so I can have those moments.'

'That's a lot of stuff for three minutes.'

'Yeah.' She looked down at her food, prodding with a dash of frustration. 'Yeah, it is.'

You ate in silence for a minute. Not awkward, just... thinking silence.

'Can I ask you something now?' you said.

'Sure.'

'Why'd you ask me to dinner? Really?'

She poked at her pasta. 'I don't know. You looked like you needed it.'

'That's it?'

'Does there have to be more?'

'Usually is.'

She sighed. 'Look, I've sat through enough meetings with you to know you skip lunch most days. And I saw your car in the parking garage at midnight last week when I was leaving the practice room. And then today, you looked...' she gestured vaguely at your face.

'I looked what?'

'Empty-tired, not the usual tiredness you wear on your face. You know?'

You weren't sure what to say to that.

'Anyway,' she continued. 'It's just dinner. It's not that deep.'

'Right.'

'Right,' she echoed.

The silence that followed should have been uncomfortable. But it wasn't, really. Just quiet.

'It's good,' you finally said, gesturing to your plate. 'The food.'

'Told you.'

'You did.'

She smiled, just slightly. 'I'm right about a lot of things.'

'I'll reserve judgment on that.'

'Smart.' She took a sip of water. 'So... was this weird? Me asking you to dinner?'

You thought about it. 'A little.'

'Sorry.'

'Don't be. Weird isn't bad.'

She nodded. 'No, it's not.'

The rest of the meal was easier. You talked about nothing important. Work, a little. Music she was listening to. A book you'd been meaning to read but hadn't found time for. Normal stuff that normal people probably talked about all the time.

When the check came, you reached for it.

'I got it,' she said.

'You invited me.'

'Exactly.'

'That's not how it works.'

'Says who?' She grabbed the check before you could. 'Too slow, Mr. Executive.'

Outside, the air felt damp. Like it had rained while you were eating, or was about to.

'Which way you headed?' she asked.

You pointed vaguely east.

'I'm that way too. For a few blocks, anyway.'

You walked together. Not too close. Just two people who happened to be going the same direction.

'Thanks,' you said after a minute.

'For what?'

'Dinner.'

'Was it terrible?'

'No.'

'High praise,' she said again.

'I mean it. It was... nice.'

'Wow. Nice. I'm flattered.'

'Shut up.'

She laughed. Not her public laugh, the perfect one from interviews. A real one, slightly too loud.

'You know what?' she said.

'What?'

'You're not as scary as they say.'

'Who says I'm scary?'

'Everyone.' She kicked a small stone on the sidewalk. 'The whole office. The interns call you The Terminator.'

'They do not.'

'They absolutely do.' She grinned. 'But I'll keep your secret.'

'What secret?'

'That you're actually just a regular person who works too much.'

'I don't work too much.'

'Sureeee.' She stopped walking. 'This is me.'

You looked up at her building. Nice but not flashy. 'This is you.'

'Yeah.' She rocked back on her heels slightly. 'So.'

'So.'

'Thanks for coming.'

'Thanks for asking.'

She looked like she might say something else, then didn't. Just nodded. 'See you tomorrow.'

'See you tomorrow.'

She turned, walked toward her door. You should have left then. Just turned and walked away.

Instead, you watched her go. Watched as she paused at the entrance, like maybe she was going to look back.

She didn't.

And that was fine. Better, probably.

You turned and walked home, feeling something you couldn't quite name. Not happiness, exactly. But maybe something close to it. Something adjacent.

Like maybe for the first time in a long time, you'd been a person instead of a position. And maybe that was enough.

—

Chaewon's Diary - April 25, 2025

It's stupid to write this down. Dangerous, probably.

I love him.

I tried not to. Made lists of reasons why I shouldn't. His position. My career. The company. The members. The fans.

The lists didn't help.

I tried imagining my life without him in it. Moving companies. Going solo. Leaving the country. None of it worked because he'd still exist somewhere. I'd still know he was out there.

It's not that I need him. I was fine before him. I'll be fine after, I guess.

But I don't want to be.

I love the way he focuses when he reads reports. How he thinks no one notices when he's tired. How he pretends not to care about things but always remembers details about everyone.

I love how he never says more than he needs to. How he leaves room for silence.

I love that he came to dinner with me. That he let himself be normal for one night.

If he doesn't love me back, that's okay.

But I think sometimes… maybe he could.

—

Morning hit you like a truck.

Your phone was buzzing. Had been buzzing. You fumbled for it, eyes still closed.

Missed call. Another. Another. Another.

You squinted at the screen.

9 missed calls from your manager. 4 from some board member. 8 from numbers you didn't recognize.

The time was 7:12 AM.

More buzzing. Texts now. Emails.

You sat up, suddenly very awake.

First text: a link. You clicked it.

"COMPANY CEO AND IDOL MEMBER CAUGHT ON SECRET DATE"

There was a photo. You and Chaewon at the restaurant. Her laughing. You almost smiling. It looked... not innocent.

More links.

"SOURCE CONFIRMS: CEO AND KIM CHAEWON 'MORE THAN PROFESSIONAL'"

"INSIDER: 'THEY'VE BEEN HIDING IT FOR MONTHS'"

You felt sick. Scrolled back through your notifications, mind racing.

Then you saw it. Late-night texts from Chaewon.

1:12 AM

don't freak out when you wake up

someone took pictures at the restaurant

it's already online i'm sorry

1:14 AM

my manager is losing it

company PR called an emergency meeting

they're saying we can't talk to each other

1:27 AM

they want me to say it was just a work dinner

that we barely know each other

is that what you want me to say?

1:41 AM

i can't sleep this is so stupid

we didn't do anything wrong

1:55 AM

maybe we did though

maybe i did

1:56 AM

i've never told you this

never thought i would need to

1:58 AM

i love you

i think i have for a long time

i just never saw the point in saying it

it seemed impossible

2:01 AM

i'm sorry you didn't need this

not now not with everything else

2:03 AM

forget i said anything blame the dinner on me

i'll fix this

Your phone started ringing again. Board chairman.

You let it ring.

Read the texts again. And again.

The world was imploding around you, your career possibly in flames, and all you could think about was that last message.

i love you

Your thumb hovered over the screen. What could you possibly say now? What was left to say when everything had already changed?

The phone kept ringing.

—

The boardroom was too bright. Fluorescent lights reflecting off the polished table where twelve men in identical suits sat judging you.

You'd always seen success as a game with simple rules. Work harder. Think faster. Never look back. That's how you climbed here—by treating everything as disposable.

Turns out you were wrong.

You weren't disposable. Chaewon wasn't disposable. Whatever had grown between you wasn't disposable.

But they were treating it like it was.

‘The optics are unacceptable,’ said the Vice Chairman, his voice clinical. ‘A senior executive and an idol? The media is already spinning narratives.’

You watched his mouth move but barely heard the words. Your phone weighed heavy in your pocket. Her message burned into your mind.

i love you i always have

‘Are you listening?’ Someone was addressing you directly now.

‘Yes,’ you lied.

The Chairman leaned forward. ‘We've spent a decade building this company's reputation. We won't let one indiscretion destroy it.’

Indiscretion. As if dinner between two people was a crime.

‘We've developed a containment strategy,’ said the PR director, sliding folders across the table. You didn't open yours. ‘First, no contact with Kim Chaewon. None. Effective immediately.’

Your jaw tightened.

‘Second, you'll accompany Le Sserafim to America. Three weeks of promotional activities. You'll be positioned as overseeing the company's international expansion. Professional distance will be maintained at all times.’

You looked around the table. Not a single sympathetic face.

‘What happens to Chaewon?’ you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

‘She'll be fine,’ said the Chairman dismissively. ‘As long as this situation is managed correctly.’

‘And if it isn't?’

The question hung in the air. Someone cleared their throat.

‘Then her position in the group becomes untenable,’ said the A&R director finally. ‘The other members shouldn't suffer for her... complications.’

Complications. That's what they called her now. Not their star performer. Not the artist who'd brought in millions. A complication.

‘So that's the deal,’ you said flatly. ‘I go to America. Stay away from her. Keep my job.’

‘Precisely.’

‘And if I refuse?’

The Chairman's smile didn't reach his eyes. ‘Then you both lose everything.’

Simple as that. A business decision.

Your mind flashed to Chaewon. How she looked at dinner. How easily she laughed. The way she really saw you when no one else bothered to look.

For two years, she'd been the one constant. The one person who grew on you.

‘Do we have an understanding?’ the Chairman pressed.

Someone was speaking. You realized it was you.

‘I understand perfectly.’

Everything felt unreal. As if you were a mirage of yourself, observing yourself in the most dire situation.

‘Good. Your flight leaves tomorrow night. The PR team has prepared statements for both of you. Stick to the script.’

They moved on. Budget projections. Q3 forecasts. As if they hadn't just hollowed you out completely.

You sat there, a model of composure. Inside, something was breaking, tearing along a fault line you hadn't known existed until Chaewon walked into your office and asked you to dinner.

The meeting ended. Men in suits filed out, crisis averted.

You remained seated, staring at your reflection in the polished table.

Tomorrow you'd fly to America. You'd watch Chaewon from across rooms, pretend she was nothing to you. You'd do it because the alternative would destroy her.

Your phone buzzed once. A text.

It wasn't from her. It couldn't be. They'd already gotten to her.

You checked anyway.

From your assistant: ‘Car is waiting whenever you're ready, sir.’

You stood up. Straightened your tie. Gathered the folder you never opened.

They thought they'd won. Thought they'd contained the problem.

They didn't understand.

They'd taken everything from you except the one thing that mattered—the knowledge that somewhere in this building was a woman who loved you. Had always loved you.

And for the first time, you were certain you loved her too.

—

You left the boardroom, a hollow shell of yourself.

America. No Chaewon. For three weeks.

They called it mercy. You called it execution.

The flight to Los Angeles stretched endlessly, your thoughts circling like vultures. You didn't sleep. Couldn't. The empty seat beside you an accusation.

Your phone vibrated as the plane touched down.

11:42 PM

landed safe?

Chaewon.

You stared at her message until the screen dimmed, then went black. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard.

They couldn't monitor texts, could they? Were they watching?

You couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk her.

No response.

The California sun felt wrong on your skin. Too bright, too insistent. Your hotel suite overlooked the Pacific. Endless blue that reminded you of nothing but distance.

Day Three.

8:17 AM

meetings are boring without you to glare at everyone

8:19 AM

the new intern asked where you went

8:22 AM

i told her you were saving the american branch from themselves

You almost smiled. Almost.

No response.

The American executives treated you like royalty. A king in exile. Their offices were too bright, their coffee too bitter, their laughter too loud. You moved through meetings like a ghost, present but never there.

Day Five.

3:04 AM

can't sleep

3:05 AM

is it the time difference or is it just

3:11 AM

never mind

What would you say if you could? That you lay awake too, staring at hotel ceilings, replaying her confession like a film you couldn't pause?

No response.

You worked eighteen-hour days. Not because the work required it, but because your empty room was unbearable. The silence that you once called home—incomplete.

Day Seven.

1:47 PM

there's a rumor you're never coming back

1:48 PM

tell me that's not true

1:52 PM

please

The last word felt like a knife between your ribs. Please. As if you had a choice. As if any of this was within your control.

No response.

The days blurred. You functioned on autopilot, your mind perpetually seventeen hours ahead, in Seoul, where she was.

Day Nine.

5:31 PM

they announced the showcase dates

5:32 PM

we're coming to LA next week

5:33 PM

will you be there?

Le Sserafim. Coming to Los Angeles. Of course. The universe's cruelest joke—to bring her so close, yet keep her untouchable.

No response.

You attended dinners. Networking events. Smiled when appropriate. Spoke when necessary. No one noticed how your eyes constantly swept rooms, searching for threats that weren't there.

Day Twelve.

10:17 AM

we leave tomorrow

10:18 AM

i know you can't answer

10:25 AM

but please, if you can

10:26 AM

be there

They must have warnings in place. Her messages carried the weight of someone being careful—someone who knew the stakes.

No response.

Le Sserafim arrived with the usual fanfare. Cameras flashing. Fans screaming. You watched from the periphery as she emerged from the airport terminal, perfect smile in place, waving to the crowd.

She didn't look for you. Knew better than that.

But you saw the tension in her shoulders. The way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes; not quite the smile she had when she swiped up some of your steak.

Day Fourteen.

No messages.

You checked your phone obsessively. Refreshed the screen until the battery drained to critical. Nothing.

The silence was worse than any words could have been.

The showcase venue was packed—a sea of lightsticks and expectant faces. You stood in the shadows of the VIP section, surrounded by American executives who had no idea you were breaking apart inside.

Le Sserafim performed flawlessly. Of course they did. Chaewon shone like a star brought to earth—her voice clear, her movements precise, her smile blinding.

Not once did her eyes search the crowd. Not once did she falter.

Professional to her core.

You left before the final song. Couldn't bear another moment of proximity without contact.

In your hotel room, you drank two fingers of whiskey and watched the city lights blur through the window.

Your phone remained silent.

Day Sixteen.

You were leaving a restaurant when you saw her.

Across the street, surrounded by managers and security. The group heading into a high-end boutique.

Your driver opened your car door, but you stood frozen, watching as she disappeared inside the shop.

She didn't see you.

When you returned to your hotel, you found a message.

7:03 PM

i saw you today

7:04 PM

you looked tired

You stared at the screen, heart hammering against your ribs.

No response.

Day Nineteen.

The final showcase. The final night in Los Angeles. Tomorrow, Le Sserafim would fly to New York. You would follow a day later.

You sat in the back row, hidden in shadow. Watched her perform for the last time on American soil.

She was transcendent.

Afterward, you slipped backstage under the pretense of congratulating the team. Your company's biggest assets. Your professional obligation.

She stood with the other members, accepting praise from American executives. Smiling. Nodding. Perfect.

Your eyes met across the room.

One second. Two.

Then she looked away, her expression never changing.

But you saw it—the slight tremble of her hand at her side.

Back in your hotel room, your phone lit up.

8:30 PM

i miss you

8:31 PM

i know i shouldn't say that

8:31 PM

i know i shouldn't even text you

8:32 PM

but i can't do this anymore

8:32 PM

please say something

Your chest tightened. Three weeks of silence, and now this—her desperation breaking through, risking everything.

You stared at the screen, knowing what you should do. Delete. Ignore. Follow the rules that kept her safe.

Instead, your fingers moved.

8:35 PM

The coffee in LA is terrible.

A pause. You could almost see her confusion.

8:36 PM

what?

8:37 PM

that's what you have to say?

You smiled faintly. Even the way you message her—capitalized first letters—is unique from hers.

8:38 PM

I hear New York's is better

Might try it when I get there

8:40 PM

when will you be in new york?

8:41 PM

Tomorrow.

8:41 PM

Early flight.

You weren't supposed to be on tomorrow's flight. You were meant to follow a day later. Keep the distance. Maintain the separation they'd enforced.

8:42 PM

you changed your flight?

8:43 PM

Figured I should see the Empire State Building.

8:43 PM

Heard the view is worth the risk.

Your heart pounded. The careful wording. The hidden meaning. Saying everything without saying anything that could truly incriminate either of you.

8:45 PM

there's a small coffee shop

8:45 PM

by the hotel

8:46 PM

i was planning to go there

8:46 PM

after tomorrow's rehearsal

8:47 PM

around 4

A plan. Hidden in casual conversation.

8:48 PM

Sounds like a good place for coffee.

8:49 PM

it is

8:49 PM

they say it's quiet

8:50 PM

not many people know about it

8:51 PM

I like quiet.

The conversation was innocent enough on the surface. Anyone reading would see nothing but meaningless chatter about coffee.

But between the lines: a plan. A meeting. A rebellion.

8:53 PM

i have to go

8:53 PM

sakura is calling

8:54 PM

don't forget to try the coffee

8:54 PM

it's been too long since you had a good cup

You stared at those last words. The double meaning clear.

8:55 PM

I won't forget.

You deleted the conversation. She would do the same.

But the promise remained.

Tomorrow. New York. 4 PM.

Day Twenty-one would break the rules. Day Twenty-one would change everything.

—

You got to the airport before the others. Boarded the flight before the others. Got the first class treatment that the board thinks you like.

The whole seat had a door. You closed it just in case you saw Chaewon. In case you lost it.

Despite it all, you knew she was there, the wisp of her soft perfume serenaded you even through thick mahogany wood panels—through the opulence of first class.

You kept your eyes fixed on your laptop screen. Work emails you couldn't focus on. Words blurring together as your mind fixed on one thought:

Tomorrow. 4 PM. Her hotel.

The ‘coffee shop’ wasn't a coffee shop at all. You both knew that. A code thin enough that anyone monitoring would see through it, yet plausible enough to maintain deniability.

The flight attendant asked if you wanted champagne. You declined. Asked for water instead. Needed a clear head.

Five hours trapped in a metal tube, knowing she was just rows behind you. Five hours of pretending the center of your universe wasn't within reach.

Your phone buzzed. A text from the Chairman.

‘Landing at JFK ahead of Le Sserafim. Good optics. Keep distance in New York. Almost done.’

Almost done. The words echoed.

Twenty days down. One more to go.

Tomorrow, at 4 PM, you would break every rule they had set. You would go to her hotel. You would see her—really see her—for the first time in three weeks.

And then what?

You had no plan beyond that moment. No strategy for what came after. The executive who planned everything had no contingency for this. A hollow cadaver. Waning the flames that could be easily put if you just resisted.

If only.

The plane took off, carrying you toward New York. Toward her. Toward whatever came next.

You closed your eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. All you could think about was her text:

i miss you

Three small words that had unraveled three weeks of carefully maintained distance.

Three small words that weren't the three words you couldn't stop thinking about since that night:

i love you

—

After you left her hotel room, after you hugged her, after you saw her face up close—dangerously close to kissing her—everything collapsed once more. The dregs of your hope were gone once again: You wanted only her. Only her.

You walked past the hallway, trying not to look suspicious under the camera—which, to be frank, was impossible.

And pressed the keycard onto the door, as suspiciously as possible, and entered. With your back to the closed door, you pulled out your phone and messaged her.

4:07 PM

Let’s meet again

4:08 PM

where?

4:08 PM

On the rooftop

4:09 PM

i miss you

4:10 PM

You just saw me.

4:10 PM

i know

4:11 PM

Hang in there.

Chaewon.

4:11 PM

i like it when you say my name.

4:12 PM

Chaewon, this can end your career.

4:12 PM

i dont care.

i want you.

only you.

You slid down the door and sat. With your phone still in hand.

You’re about to risk everything. Was it love that meant protecting her forever? Was it love that meant you couldn’t still yourself for a month or a year, wait, and wait, until she’s finally free?

Damn it all.

—

Chaewon’s Diary—Part 2 of May 15, 2025

He wants to meet me. On the rooftop.

Why?

Is he gonna kiss me? Is he gonna reject me once more?

Was it even a rejection in the first place? He promised. He promised. Oh god, my head hurts, I can’t think of anything.

All I can think of is him. My executive.

—

As the sun turns orange in its preparation for slumber, you make your way to the rooftop of the hotel. The elevator chimes, almost too loud, and you enter with a towel on-hand. There’s moments where the shiver runs through your entire body—not out of being scared, but of the possibility of seeing Chaewon again.

The elevator reaches the top floor. And in your hopes of not seeing anyone there, you were vindicated. No one. Nobody. Just a heated pool with the bougiest accommodations possible.

Thank the heavens, you thought.

Now it’s time to patiently wait, to not gnaw through your teeth like it’s cardboard in anticipation (which is easier said than done).

Regardless, you waited, sitting on one of the chairs, overlooking the sunset. The breeze was chilly, but nothing that you couldn’t endure.

So you waited.

But just for a moment, you closed your eyes.

—

‘Silly.’

Your eyes opened.

There she was. Chaewon. In all her glory

In the 2 hours you haven’t seen her, when the sun gained its slightly orange tint, she’s progressed into something like a goddess. Brown bob-cut, a perfect face…. Perfection incarnate.

‘You fell asleep.’

‘Oh.’ That’s about all you could get out; too busy staring at her.

‘I missed you.’

‘It’s been 2 hours.’

‘I know.’

‘You’re about to risk everything.

‘I know.’

‘Your career. Your… everything.’

‘You are my everything.’ She replies—climbing on top of you. Crystalline tears formed around the rims of her eyes.

‘Chaewon. Please.’

‘There’s nothing quite like this… hm?’ She says, amused at how doomed everything seemed to be.

‘Fighting against inevitability.’ You continue. Pressing your thumbs against her cheekbones once again, where tears flow once again.

‘I’m so selfish.’

‘Don’t say that. Don’t say that… I am too.’

‘I thought if I avoided you. Long enough. Maybe, just maybe, we would’ve had a better chance. Look at me now, on you, risking everything.’

She softly collapsed on your chest, huffing her tears. And you spread your palm along her soft hair, this perfect hair.

‘You are so beautiful. Chaewon.’

‘I love you.’

Perhaps this is where it all topples. The final wall, once a 100-story skyscraper, reduced to mere ruins.

And you kiss her; grab the nape of her neck and press yourself closer to the kiss. Her lips. Her soft moans. Little squeals.

Fuck.

You press yourself against the hotness of her mouth. Her velvety mouth crossed along your own. An apprehensive rush to it—oxymoron be damned—you wanted everything Chaewon—while not crossing any lines.

Despite it all, Chaewon’s soft hands ventured forth to your arms, grasped them tight and placed them right along her thin waist.

She wants it.

She wants you.

And that just about does it.

You release just for a bit. Look at her half-lidded eyes, seemingly, under pure bliss.

‘If we continue…’ You say, each syllable harder than the previous. The fact that you’re here, kissing Chaewon, feeling her body, just as you dreamed, just as you wished for all time—makes it harder to think of all the consequences.

The impending doom—so to speak.

‘You idiot.’ She replies.

‘What?’

‘I’ve risked everything and more to be here with you right now. And you think I’ll flake out now? Of all times—now?’

You laugh, so close to her mouth; you stare at her, and she’s attempting eyebrow-knitted frustration that’s more cute than anything else.

‘You’re so cute.’

‘Oh shut up.’

‘You’re everything to me.’

‘...So are you.’

Her eyes glisten something transcendent and she moves to kiss you again. That velvety soft mouth, of mint, of something fruity.

Pure bliss.

‘I want you.’ She squeaks out, between the kisses.

‘You have me.’ You reply, accidentally bumping teeth. Soft laughter ensues.

She’s so soft against your palms—the small of her back, the tightness of her waist, the bump of her bra-strap. Inbetween it all, moaning something sweet into your mouth. She releases just for a second, catching a glimpse of you; her lips are all kiss-bitten and swollen, soft and supple; ‘We’re two walking cadavers, you know.’

‘Lust and learning Chaewon. That’s all there is to it.’

Instead of a quick and bratty reply—

‘That’s true.’

Her lips land on yours once again. Flight and apprehensive, her thin arms wrap around you like you’re something to lose: tight enough that you know she’s there.

Her meek body is warm against you—just a shroud of clothing between your hand and her milky skin. You needed her. Wanted her more. An indulgence that satiation could barely meet.

So you flip her over; on this thin pool chair, a little bougie, Chaewon was splayed across.

And god.

It was all worth it. Your executive position on standstill—bound for execution. Your impending exile. All of it.

White t-shirt, thin shorts, and just a smidgen of make-up—lip-stick all smudged along her plump lips.

Being away for just a second was tantamount to hell: You dived in. Her body felt so docile and meek under you—squirming along your hot touch. Surround your thick arms around her thin waist, let her back bend in response, feel her stomach press upon you as you kiss her into the pool chair—little soft squeals the guiding light to it all.

Her hands ventured low to bunch up her t-shirt, and you helped her; really, you wanted to press on her soft naked abdomen, venture up to her naked sternum, feeling the soft naked swell of her—

Her t-shirt slipped off quickly, and there laid her gorgeous torso.

You pressed kisses along her collarbone; just enough pressure to leave a mark there for days.

Just in case, you say, don’t forget me, just for a day or two.

You press softer kisses along the softer flesh below her collarbone, feeling her skin, really conceptualizing that she’s there. Really fucking there. And you laugh, under your breath; as if Chaewon knew exactly what you were thinking, her palm lands right on your cheek—softly grazing.

‘I’m here.’

‘Right. Right.’

Gain composure. This goddess awaits you.

So you venture forth. Along her neck muscle, the soft tendon that trembles under your kiss, the loose skin that gets her squirming under you, muscles tensing. Just below her jaw, you suck on her skin, tight, really tight, until you’re sure that there’s a welting hickey right there.

You observe how the red blooms, slowly gaining almost a purple hue. Nothing could cover that.

‘You’re really asking to be caught.’ She says, almost satisfied you left a mark on her.

‘Are you gonna cover it?’

‘Why would I cover what you give me?’ Her expression is pure seduction. Aphrodite incarnate.

Again, your world exploded.

You kiss her rougher this time. Muss up her hair. Venture beneath her waist. Pull at her firm thighs. Hands venture along the sides of her, your cold fingertips get her softly squirming beneath your touch—shimmers of gooseflesh rising along the delicate curves of her side, right under your fingertips.

The bronze sun shimmers off her torso as something like a masterpiece—faint shadows articulated along her perfect body—different orange, yellow hues bouncing off and enhancing the swells and curves and everything she had.

You pull her waist softly to get it bent again, venturing underneath, feeling her spine; venturing along her spine, the soft swell of it all—she’s here, she wants you, all 2 years of it condensed into this moment.

The bra-strap hits you like a reminder that her bosom was hidden beneath, the gentle swells and curves all a devious hint at what lay under.

So you clip it.

She shivers at the realization. The clip was off. And your hands automatically moved to take it off completely.

Her arms softly push together her torso: Displaying the treasure that laid before you.

Beautiful bronze peaks.

God.

God!

‘Ready the funeral wreaths for me. Chaewon.’

She scoffs. Then a soft laugh choked her up.

Your two hands softly teased the sides of her breasts; the way it surrendered to the slightest force; you ventured across her swell, feeling the desperate softness of her naked breasts. All while kissing her desperately. Your hands felt up and down, side-to-side, until she squirmed for relief: That’s when your fingers brushed over her perfect nipples.

And you had to look.

The way she shivered. God. Biting the side of her index finger. Moaning. Soft. Squealing even as you watched her carefully. The way her tongue traced a wet line along her lips—goading you, Aphrodite.

Your kiss ventured down, the soft tendon of her neck, the firm sternum.

Then finally—her breasts.

You kiss the soft skin.

Circling it.

The part that needed relief.

Teasing her. Even if the perpetuity of a multi-billion dollar company finding a way to bury you was crushing, her presence relieved it all.

Latched on.

‘Ahhh~’

‘Music to my ears.’

‘Oh shut up.’

‘Gladly.’

You dug in. Breaths became rigidly quick. Your other hand massaged the other breast. The nipple between your teeth got the most beautiful notes out of her.

By the time you stopped, her entire body shook.

‘Did you just cum?’

Her weak arm fell softly on your chest—apparently—a punch.

‘No.’

A sick grin grew on you, and you wrapped your arms around her; kissing her jawline.

‘You really did cum.’

Before you could do anything, her two hands squished your cheeks together.

‘Take responsibility.’

Trapped between her two small hands, you laugh. ‘I know. I know.’ A soft kiss on her sweat-slick forehead.

Your smirk lingers as you press another kiss against her temple. ‘You’ve got some nerve, you know that?’

Chaewon shifts slightly, resting her chin on your shoulder. ‘Nerve?’ she echoes, voice still breathless.

‘You climbed on top of me, seduced me, came just from me playing with your tits…’ Your hands wander, sliding down the dip of her back, feeling the heat of her skin. ‘And now you’re telling me to take responsibility?’

She hums, fingers tracing light, absentminded shapes on your chest. ‘Mmm. That’s right.’

You chuckle against her perfumed hair—sweet, fruity. ‘And what exactly does ‘taking responsibility’ mean to you?’

Her lips barely brush your ear as she murmurs, ‘It means you don’t stop until I can’t think straight.’

Your breath catches.

And then, you’re moving.

With a swift motion, you flip her onto her back, her body bouncing slightly against the lounge chair. She gasps, eyes wide for only a second before a slow, knowing grin spreads across her lips.

‘Too much?’ you tease, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.

Chaewon shakes her head, cheeks flushed, wrists tightening. ‘Not even close.’

You take a moment to admire her like this—laid out beneath you, messy hair spread out over the cushion, lips still kiss-bitten and swollen. Her chest rises and falls with anticipation, and her legs shift restlessly against yours, already needing more.

‘I love this look on you,’ you murmur, tracing your free hand down her side. ‘All desperate and needy.’

Feigning offense, ‘I am not needy.’

‘Oh?’ Your fingers dance along the waistband of her shorts, teasing, not quite moving further. ‘Then what do you call this?’

She squirms. Just slightly. Just enough.

‘I call it,’ she whispers, tugging at her trapped wrists, ‘a challenge.’

Oh.

A thrill rushes through you.

Your grip on her wrists tightens slightly, your knee nudging between her legs, pressing against the wet heat of her core. She gasps, back arching, but you don’t move—just let her feel the pressure, let her know exactly what she’s asking for.

‘Careful, baby,’ you murmur, leaning down, lips hovering just above hers. ‘You might not like what happens when I take that challenge.’

Chaewon’s grin is pure defiance, pure want.

‘Try me.’

And so you do.

Your hand finally slips beneath the waistband of her shorts, fingers sliding between her soaked folds, feeling the way she clenches around nothing, already so ready for you.

‘You’re soaked,’ you murmur against her neck, voice full of something dark and satisfied. ‘You’ve been like this since I was playing with your tits, huh?’

She whines, trying to twist her wrists free, but you don’t let her go.

‘You’re not getting out of this,’ you tease, slipping one finger inside her, the velvety pink folds, feeling her tense, then relax, then tighten again as you curl it just right, just fucking right, just until she curls her back to you. ‘You wanted me to take responsibility?’ You slip another finger into her, the tight wetness of her, stretching her slowly. ‘Then take it.’

Her breath stutters. And she moans.

Your thumb circles her clit, slow but firm, coaxing out soft, trembling moans that get swallowed by the night air.

And then, just when she starts getting lost in it—just when her hips start rolling, when she’s clenching desperately around your fingers—you stop.

Your hand is stuck on her wrists, and the other—fucking her senseless.

Her whine is immediate. ‘No, no, don’t—’

You smirk against her throat. ‘Not so fun when I’m the one teasing, huh?’

‘You’re evil.’

‘I’m making sure you really feel it.’ You drag your fingers out completely, holding them up just enough for her to see the way they glisten in the dim light. ‘And you do feel it, don’t you, baby?’

Chaewon glares at you, still breathless, still burning up, but there’s something playful in the way she juts her chin out.

‘Fine,’ she murmurs. ‘If you’re gonna tease…’

Then, before you can react, she hooks her legs around your waist and grinds up against you, rubbing herself against your cock through your pants—needy, desperate, shameless.

Your breath leaves you in a sharp hiss.

‘Shit.’

She grins. ‘What was that?’

You grip her hips, forcing them to still. ‘You really wanna play that game?’

She tilts her head. ‘You gonna stop me?’

No. No, you’re not.

You’re gonna fuck her senseless.

Your grip tightens around her hips, firm enough that she stops moving—but not before you grind back, pressing yourself against the slick heat between her thighs, making her gasp.

‘Chaewon,’ you murmur, voice rough, a warning. ‘You’re playing a dangerous game.’

She exhales shakily, eyes locked onto yours, her body taut beneath you.

‘You sure you’re ready for the consequences?’ You add.

Instead of answering, she licks her lips and tugs at her trapped wrists again. ‘Dear, I forgot about consequences a long time ago.’

You smirk, it’s true. You’re about to fuck her on this pool chair. Open to 360 degrees of vision, just the slightest glimpse and they’d see you fucking Chaewon. The fact that you’d lose your position the moment they saw you within 5 feet of Chaewon, let alone fucking her.

Fight against fate with absurdity.

You shift, focusing on the moment, leaning down so your lips barely ghost over hers. ‘I like you like this,’ you admit, your voice low, teasing. ‘All spread out, squirming, desperate—’

She whimpers when you roll your hips into her again, the friction delicious, just enough to drive her crazy without giving her what she really wants.

‘You’re so mean,’ she breathes, but her body betrays her, arching up, trying to chase more.

You chuckle, finally freeing her wrists—only for her to grab the collar of your shirt and yank you down into a kiss.

It’s messy, all tongue and heat, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer, like she’s trying to mold herself to you completely. You groan into her mouth, one hand gripping her thigh, the other slipping beneath her shorts again, fingers finding their place against her soaked entrance.

She’s so fucking wet.

You tease her with your fingertips, barely dipping inside, a soft squelch, just enough to make her whimper into the kiss.

‘God, you need it, huh?’ you murmur against her lips.

She nods frantically, her hands clawing at your shoulders. ‘Please.’

Your breath catches at how wrecked she already sounds. ‘Please what?’

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t hesitate. ‘Please fuck me.’

You curse under your breath.

Then you sit up, hands moving with quick precision—grabbing the waistband of her shorts and yanking them down her legs, tossing them aside without care.

And finally, she’s bare beneath you.

You take a moment, just looking at her. The way she’s sprawled out, chest rising and falling rapidly, legs slightly parted, glistening with need.

‘You’re perfect.’

Chaewon bites her lip, her gaze flicking down—to where you’re already painfully hard, straining against your pants. She reaches forward, fingers trembling slightly as they brush over you, tracing the outline of your cock.

You let out a sharp breath.

‘You’re still dressed,’ she murmurs. ‘Not fair.’

She’s right.

So you fix it.

You shed your clothes as quickly as possible, the fabric falling to the floor, forgotten. When you look at her again, she’s staring at you—all of you—her lips slightly parted, eyes dark.

Then, slowly, her fingers curl around your cock, stroking once, twice, making your whole body tense.

‘Fuck.’

She grins. ‘That was cute.’

You glare at her, grip tightening on her hips. ‘You wanna see cute? Keep talking.’

She laughs, breathy, and guides you between her legs.

Your tip brushes against her entrance, and her laughter dies into a shaky inhale.

You barely push in, just an inch, feeling how tight, how hot she is, and you both groan at the same time.

Chaewon’s nails dig into your shoulders. ‘More,’ she gasps.

You give her more.

You sink into her inch by inch, stretching her, filling her completely, watching the way her pink lips part as she takes all of you.

She feels unreal.

You curse, head falling to her shoulder, breathing heavily against her skin. ‘You’re so—fuck—you feel so good.’

She’s trembling, her arms wrapping around your back, holding you as close as possible. ‘Move. Please—move.’ she pleads, desperately whispering hot breath into your ear, as you bury yourself into her petite shoulder.

And so you do.

Your hips pull back, then roll forward again, slow, wet, a stretched squelch, setting a slow, deliberate pace—making sure she feels everything. Every inch, every pulse, every deep thrust that has her gasping your name like a prayer.

She’s already falling apart beneath you, legs wrapped around your waist, nails raking down your back.

‘Faster. Oh please, faster.’ she breathes.

You obey.

Your hips snap against hers, faster, deeper, her moans turning into desperate little cries with every thrust.

‘You’re taking me so well,’ you murmur, kissing the shell of her ear, your fingers tangling with hers as you pin her hands above her head again. ‘Like you were made for this.’

She nods frantically, barely able to form words, barely able to do anything but cling to you and feel.

Her lips quiver. ‘I was made for you.’

She finally unravels, clenching around you so tightly, her whole body trembling, a gushing pressure around your cock, her musical chant of bliss filling your ears—you follow right after, burying yourself as deep as possible, spilling into her your entire seed, painting her cervix white, losing yourself completely.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but heavy breathing, tangled limbs, the aftermath of everything you’ve held back for so long.

Then, finally, Chaewon exhales, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw.

‘You’re definitely taking responsibility,’ she whispers.

You chuckle, pressing your forehead against hers.

There’s something nonsensical about it all. You’d rather not think about it. Your lover. The woman of your dreams underneath you, who took your seed, who keeps kissing the shell of your ear like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

But it keeps coming back.

The fact that no one caught you on the rooftop is a miracle.

The fact that maybe tomorrow or the day after is the day you get caught is… reality.

You want to fight everything that distends you from your dream, your everything: Chaewon.

But it’s frail. You can see it in her eyes too. Even as you rest your sweat-slick forehead against hers, blowing soft hairs out of her forehead—you can see tears coast on her red-rimmed eyes.

She loves you.

The near chance that you may be separated tears at you, hacks at your soul.

Your heart has wings for her.

Chaewon.

Your queen.

Aphrodite incarnate.

The only one.

TO BE CONTINUED(?)

#smut #kpop smut #fanfic #male reader #kpop #chaewon smut #le sserafim smut

1K notes · View notes

amazinglyashy · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, can you do LADS men's reaction to MC/reader working too hard, to the point that she looks tired and drained? She also easily gets sick because of stress. And yes, it's based on me; right now, I'm so tired because of work, and I have dance practice almost every day for our departmental performance while I'm sick with the flu. Thank you 💜

Sorry for the delay, but I wanted to do this one justice as best as I could, because oh man did I feel this personally! Not the same at all, but I get heavy duty chronic pain, and I overwork myself often by choice or not, all the time. Feel better anon <3 I hope you enjoy, and make sure to get some Pedialyte or sports drinks, and rest whenever you can. Your health is extremely important!

Love and Deepspace Li's reactions to you being overworked and sick

Zayne -

He's a doctor, you can't even get into the realm of hoping to hide it from him for long, and you'll want to hide it from him if you're actually wanting to be doing whatever it is that's causing you to be overworked to the point of illness.

He will take a single look at you the first time he sees you once you've reached this point- routine examination, stopping by work to see you or vice versa, running something by your place he borrowed, even just you making the mistake of taking an offered ride home from him due to how tired you are. It was a lapse in judgement on your part in trying to keep this from him, but your beyond exhausted brain didn't process it at the time.

But you sure are processing it now that you've been 'kidnapped' and taken back to his place.

He has already filled out a formal doctors note- benefits of being your primary physician- and sent it over to your bosses and managers. There's no arguing.

"Zayne, I'm-" "If you are about to try a weak attempt at convincing me you are alright, I will accept it as you insulting my intelligence as a doctor."

You're in his bed, under his blankets, probably in his pajamas since he wouldn't let you escape home, and drinking the warm drink he made for you to have after taking medicine he had given you to help with your illness. He'll order food that will be good for you to eat as well, and if it's too late for takeout, he'll definitely be cooking for you as well.

Once you're done eating, he'll make sure you're properly cared for by massaging any tired or pained muscles. If that's your entire body, then so be it. Close your eyes, tilt hour head back, and relax even though it hurts in a good way sometimes, because he's not letting up.

Not until you feel better. No matter how long that takes.

Rafayel -

Genuinely, he's offended and hurt that you've overworked yourself this hard and haven't told him. And boy, is he going to let you know it.

He's carrying you gently from wherever he had found you looking so tired- no it does not matter if you were in the middle of working- while actively scolding you in his arms.

"Maybe I should just leave you there all day, come see you in the evening when you get a bad case of amnesia. Would you like that? Huh? No? Well, then stop being stupid."

He doesn't even want to dare set foot in your place right now. He's not in the mood to clean, and he knows if this is the state you're in, your apartment is probably so much worse due to just how busy and exhausted you've been.

He'll go clean it later, but right now he's just grumpy.

There is something about the fresh, oceanside air that helps your headache though- or maybe it's the light linen on his bed that he would have dropped you on had you not looked like the most frail thing he had seen all week.

He's muttering snarky remarks to you, but they're devoid of any bite due to his actions as he speaks them-

Getting you a fluffy robe to change into, putting something simple in the oven while you get comfortable, working special lotion into your muscles, making you lemon and honey tea, making it more humid so any sinus problems clear and help you breathe- he's being vocal through it all, but spoiling you as much as he can nonetheless.

"I don't care if you have a lot to do. Just- ask for help next time. And if I can't help with your work, at least let me help you relax once you're home. I don't mind you staying over either, so that I can make you feel better. Just promise me you'll do better next time, so I can help you before you get this bad."

Xavier -

He probably stopped by your apartment to return something he borrowed, and you made the mistake of answering the door directly after coming home. You were at your peak of tired, and your head had started pounding for some reason... and didn't you feel a bit hot...?

"Oh- You look- You don't look very good. Is everything alright?"

You can't even answer before he's reaching out a hand to hover in front of you, trying to decide between touching you and not, before deciding on the former. He can feel you're just the slightest bit unsteady from working so you're being scooped up in an instant and taken to the bed you had already been planning to go to.

"What have they been having you do...? Never mind. That's- not important right now."

Takes off your shoes and socks, murmurs something about giving you a massage in a bit, before tugging blankets and plushies around you. He'll leave to let you change into pajamas or something more comfortable, and he'll keep himself busy by making you something to eat or clean up your apartment for you.

He tries to cook you something, he really does try. But he definitely has more talent at talking on the phone to the restaurant he's ordering you takeout from. The pan he tried to use does not survive the attempt.

The takeout is good when it comes, though, and it helps that he gave you some medicine prior to help keep it down. Even if you're not currently nauseous, he's pretty worried about your state worsening quickly.

You won't notice until it's too late, but he's already finding out how to transfer some of your workload to himself. By 'some', it's definitely 'all'.

"No, I won't change my mind. Not until you're better. You're so tired, let me do this for you. You can make it up to me by getting me something in the claw machine later."

Sylus -

"I'm just going to go-"

"Go where, kitten?"

You had made the mistake of nearly falling over under the watchful gaze of Mephisto, who had decided it would be absolutely wonderful to relay the information about it and your current state back to Sylus as quickly as he could.

Which is how you had ended up stuck in the hallway the led to your apartment, practically pinned to the wall with Sylus's hands on either side of you.

That is also how you ended up slung over Sylus's shoulder as he unlocked your apartment door for you and went inside, carrying you like it was nothing.

To be fair, you couldn't do much to fight him off this time except utilize a few choice words. You were so beyond exhausted, and starting to feel pretty ill, to boot.

He's got you to bed as soon as the door is shut. You're allowed a hot shower if you promise him a few dozen times that you'll get straight to bed after. He makes sure to promise you that he'll come and make you get in bed if you go against that promise. For once, you don't want to call his bluff.

You're in bed soon enough, with a cool rag pressed on your forehead, some pain medication long since down your throat, and food already on the way courtesy of Luke and Kieran's special henchmen delivery service.

Lying in bed is like heaven on your sore muscles and aching joints, not to mention the pounding headache you've had since starting to feel sick and missing out on sleep. But what somehow feels even better is Sylus's hands on you.

They're just gentle touches, his fingertips ghosting over your skin to leave goosebumps at how nice it feels, and sometimes his whole hands moving slowly and lightly across your body. He'll massage your muscles later, but for now, he's just focused on getting you to sleep, even if just for a little bit until the food gets here.

He knows you need it.

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #x reader #lds #lnds #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #sickfic #sort of!#.req

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chaoticwriting · 4 months ago

Text

YOU ARE MARRIED!!??3

Part 2

It's been a week since Ellie arrived at the manor. All the guests from the night of Ellie's arrival had already returned by that night. And so far, they haven't managed to pry open any more information about their brother-in-law from Ellie that they already didn't know of.

Currently, Ellie is sitting in the living room drawing on her green notebook while eating fruit snacks that Alfred prepares. Cass is watching over her, occasionally asking her what she is drawing.

Except for Cass and Alfred, everyone else is either at work or at school. Suddenly, a portal opens and comes out Cujo with a bag that has Ellie's name on it. So far, Cujo has been delivering Ellie's essential almost everyday for the past week. Whenever Ellie or Cass ask him about Danny, Cujo just shakes his head meaning either he doesn't know or he can't tell them.

Cujo also never stays for long and just jumps away whenever his delivery is done. But to their surprise, Cujo is not alone today. A woman in punk clothing and blue flaming hair follows after Cujo holding a guitar in her hand. Ellie perks up when she sees Ember coming out of the portal.

Ellie: Aunt Ember!

Ember: Hey Ellie. How are you doing? I assume you have been eating well.

Ellie: Yes! Everyone is so nice. Alfred always brings me snacks if I want to and grandpa Bruce buys me a lot of things.

Ember: Good good. I'm just here to say hi and check up on you. Your papa has been worrying a lot since he sent you here.

Ellie: Aunt Ember, when will papa finish his job? I miss him.

Ember: I don't know but for now you stay with your mama, okay? I will tell your papa to deal with his job quicker.

Ellie: Okay. :(

Ember then turns towards Cass and smiles at her.

Ember: Hey Cass. I'm Ember. Danny's friend. Sorry about the late greetings.

Cass: It's fine. About Danny, can I know what his job actually is?

Ember: Errmm, it's not that I don't want to tell. It's just I feel like you should ask him directly since even I don't know what his actual job is. Usually, Clockwork just calls him and off him go to wherever or whenever he sends him.

Cass: I see. But can I know if he is okay?

Ember: As far as I can tell, he is fine. Clockwork hasn't asked any of us for back up yet, so his mission is probably going well.

Suddenly, Bruce enters the living room seeing Ember and Cass talking.

Bruce: Why hello there miss. How can I help you?

Ember: *Stares*

Bruce: Errmm, miss?

Ember: You are that guy that got sent back and forth in time wasn't it? I remember your face from one of Danny's missions.

Bruce: What?

Ember: Yeah. You are Bruce Wayne, right? The Batman.

Bruce: How do you know about me?

Ember: It's not hard when your bestfriend is the one that helps one of his favorite heroes to escape forced time travel.

Bruce: Danny helps me back then?

Ember: Yeah. But at that time, he was mostly chasing after Plasmius. It is a coincidence he met you so he sent you back home first before he continued chasing Plasmius.

Cass: This Plasmius guy, how dangerous is he?

Ember: Ehh, depends on his sanity to be honest. One day, he might come to just fight you, another day he might try to release an interdimensional tyrant from his long slumber. So it's really random.

Cass: And this time?

Ember: Oh did Ellie tell you they are chasing Plasmius? I don't actually know what he is planning this time. Clockwork is being his cryptid ass again and not telling the whole story.

Bruce: Is this Clockwork safe?

Ember: Well, he is okay. I think he adopted Danny at one point so you could call him his adopted parents. But Danny also has real parents so there is that. Overall, he wouldn't allow any significant harm to fall onto Danny or anyone close to him unless he knows that is the best solution possible.

Ember: Oh well, I need to go now. Have a concert to attend to. Bye Ellie.

Ellie: Bye Aunt Ember! Bye Cujo!

Cujo gives out a bark and opens a portal. Both of them enter the portal and disappear from the living room. Bruce has that serious calculating look on his face while Cass just takes everything and processes them. She trusts his husband's judgement. And since she is with Cujo and Danny trusts Cujo, that means whoever Ember is, she is probably a friend.

Bruce goes to his study to enter the Batcave, while Cass and Ellie continue playing in the living room.

-Somewhere else-

A young man with white hair and black and white hazmat suit is flying across an urban city as he chases after a vampire-like older man that is holding a bracelet giving off a green light.

Danny: Give me the bracelet, Plasmius!

Plasmius: You gotta take it from my own hand, little badger!

Danny shoots an ecto beam towards Plasmius as he dodges the attack coming from Danny. Danny being agitated, tries to fly faster but he is already going as fast as he can.

'I wish I could just appear in front of him.'

Suddenly, Danny's vision goes black and when his vision comes again, he sees Plasmius rushing to him. Plasmius is shocked to see Danny suddenly in front of him and tries to maneuver away from him, but at such close distance, there is no way for him to outrun Danny.

Catching his wrist, Danny puts a collar that Clockwork specifically made for Plasmius. Plasmius turns back into a human and if not for Danny holding his wrist, would have fallen down from the sky.

Danny, seeing Plasmius unconscious, processes what just happened. Did he just teleport? How? He doesn't even know how to open a portal. He kind of just wishes it and it happened.

A green portal appears in front of him, cutting off his thoughts. Danny sighs as he doesn't even know what is going on. He should probably return first and ask Clockwork what is happening.

Part 4

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #batfam #danny x cass #dc x dp #dead silent #cassandra cain #cass x danny #is this too short?#I feel like I write a lot already but I still feels like this is short.#I will probably write the next one longer

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ce1estiall · 11 days ago

Text

new look

summary paige x fem!reader paige asks you to do her makeup for her wnba media day

warnings pure fluff, pet names

celestial notes i saw paige's media day and immediately needed to write a fic on it she looks tewww good, enjoy!! masterlist.

“but i wanna get a new look

the fashion goes well with this kind of character” new look - misamo

you were roaming the streets of downtown dallas, treating yourself to a shopping spree, not only getting stuff for you but for your girlfriend, paige. bags full in your hands while your curly hair is moved by the wind as you are viewing the clear, blue sky, feeling the texas heat on your skin.

ever since the wnba draft, things have been moving so quickly. from the moment you heard paige's name, to her packing her items from connecticut to dallas, you felt like you haven't had room to breathe. you and paige just started moving in last week, and you decided to go shopping to get things you need for you and her

as you exited pandora after buying paige a basketball charm bracelet, you get a ring on your phone. you looked confused for a minute, but reached for you phone in your back pocket. you looked at the saved number, it was paige.

"hey babe, what's up?" you spoke softly into the phone, blushing.

you could feel paige's smile through the speaker. "hi my love. quick question?"

"i may have an answer." you teased. paige cracked a small chuckle.

"so media day is about in 3 hours. and i was wondering if you could do my makeup?" your heart almost stopped. shit, you forgot it was media day for her.

"oh, um, yeah of course paige! are you at home right now?" you asked nervously.

"uh, yeah. i got worried for a sec when i didn't see you wake up next to me until i saw your text. i'll be waiting for you, 'kay?" she sounded quiet.

"i'll be home soon in about 15 minutes, i'm leaving the plaza right now. i'll be home a soon as possible. i love you, p"

"i love you too, see you soon. bye" she hung up the phone.

you walked to the parking the parking lot and unlocked your car. you put all the bags in the trunk, excited to see paige's excitement for some of the gifts you got her. you entered the car and turned on the engine while playing your daily playlist.

you loved driving or just sitting in your car. if you could drive for hours and hours non-stop, you would. it was just the steering wheel, seat, speakers, you and your thoughts. you observed the scenery. flowers were blooming of all colors and all kinds. lilies, tulips, roses, daisies. your favorite flowers were pink roses, and paige's were purple tulips. it made you smile when you saw both flower bushes together, reminded you of each other and your love. you loved crossing over the bridge, seeing the water glimmering from the sky above, reflecting on your eyes.

you eventually arrived home to you and paige's small apartment. keys jingled after you grabbed them from your purse. you unlocked the door and shouted loud enough for paige to hear as you were greeted by the scent of a floral candle burning. "p, i'm home!"

"hi baby." paige walked from the bedroom to the family room, greeting you with a kiss on the lips and a hug. "i missed you this morning."

you pulled your sunglasses off of you face and placed them at the top of your head. "i miss you too babe. i had to run some errands this morning for us." you looked at paige for a second. "are you gonna change first or do you wanna do your makeup first?"

paige took a second to think. "do my makeup first. my uniform's white and i don't wanna get it dirty."

"i'm surprised you were actually thinking." you teased back, smiling.

paige was walking to the bedroom, as you heard a "shut up."

you grabbed your and paige's makeup bag and brushes. "do you want to use my makeup or yours?"

she sat down on the big fluffy chair at your vanity, as the bright light blinded her when she turned the mirror on. she blocked her eyes for a quick second. "your the expert. i don't really wear makeup, just occasionally."

you grabbed your hello kitty hair clips and placed them in her dirty-blonde hair. she smiled when she saw them. "they're purple."

"i know, that's why i'm using them just for you." you smile as you place the other hair clip on her head. "baby since you don't really wear makeup, do you wan't something plain and natural?" paige looked up. "yeah, that would be nice." now, it was time for you to do your magic.

you grabbed your elf hydrogrip primer, squeezing a few pumps into your hands, then spreading it all over paige's face. paige's face was silky smooth for the most part. she had a few acne scars, but she didn't really have time to care. you scattered through her makeup bag to find foundation that was almost empty. you looked at paige, "for someone who doesn't really wear makeup, why is this almost gone?"

you grabbed a foundation brush. you pumped the foundation with the little drops left, you were still able to get something from the bottle. you blended the foundation along her face, making it seem like she never even had foundation on. she looked like she had been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. "you know when brittney styles me, they also do my makeup. thats where it comes from."

you smiled at her. "okay, whatever floats your boat." you picked up a beauty sponge and placed concealer under her eyelids. you gently pat the makeup with the sponge to help it spread evenly under her eyes. even though you were paige's girlfriend and you were doing her makeup, she looked beautiful without it to you. its what made her stand out.

next step was contour. after every step, paige looked amazed. when you grabbed an item, she would ask you "oh whats this for?" like a little kid discovering a hobby for the first time. you looked at paige while grabbing the contour. "p, you should tan this summer. texas heat will get you looking tan in no time." she started laughing. "me? in a tan? baby you're insane, no matter why i'm so in love with you."

your favorite step, blush. you were 100% blush blind when it came to your makeup, but you needed to tone it down for paige. you grabbed a fluffy blush brush and grabbed your peachy pink blush. you got some blush and told paige to smile, explaining you were placing the pigment on the apples of your cheeks. she started looking directly at you. "paige you're distracting me." she smirked as you were still applying the blush. "its just the effect i have on you."

you decided to put setting powder on paige's face, as it would help set her face and prevent from sweating later in the day. you grabbed a powder puff and dipped it in the white setting powder. "you know what i've been thinking about recently baby?" you look at paige, giving her a "hm?"

"how the media hates it when i dress so masculine. it's like they they want every woman to be feminine. i like being both and switching based off my mood. like today i felt feminine, that's why i asked you to do my makeup."

you nodded in agreement. "don't let them get to you. its just them and their own bullshit standards." you patted paige's face with the powder puff. "when you show whatever side to me, just know i love you for you." paige took a deep breath. "i know. thanks babe."

a few minutes later and lots of makeup steps, you curled paige's lashes and placed a thin layer of mascara, then applying setting spray so her makeup wouldn't move throughout the day. you grabbed your lipgloss, applying it on your lips before letting paige see the finished look. paige looked intrigued. "can i have some lipgloss baby?"

you gave a slight smile and placed a slight peck on paige's lips. "i found an opportunity and took it." paige looked annoyed, even though she did enjoy the quick gesture you gave her. "fine" you sighed in defeat.

you applied the light pink lipgloss to her already rosy lips. "i wasn't putting lipliner on you. they always do you dirty with it." she looked puzzled. "whose they?"

"the people who do your makeup for photoshoots." you finished, telling paige to smack her lips together. "you wanna see?"

she nodded, excitedly. you handed paige a handheld mirror. the way you saw her eyes light up and sparkle the moment she saw herself, you knew she'd like it. "babe.... you did so good. you need to be my makeup artist from now on."

paige placed the mirror down and looked at her and you in the vanity. you gave her a hug from behind, placing your arms around her neck. she gave a kiss to your arms as she turned around in the chair. "thanks baby." she stood up, you gave paige a kiss on her cheek as she walked to the closet. "now go get changed and curl your hair. you're gonna look so good."

#dallas wings #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn womens basketball #wnba #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader

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bugisastranger · 3 months ago

Note

Could I please have angst with a happy ending with Best friend Clark, where you’ve been pining after him for the longest time, but he’s still after Lana. So you give up and start going on dates/bars to get over him, and he’s confused at the sudden emotional distance because you’ve never done that before, and he finds himself jealous. 🙏🙏🙏

a/n: sorry this took a bit anon! i am such a busy gal this semester </3. this one's a lil long - might not be as angsty as you were hoping but i haven't written angst in agessss so i apologize. ty for the req my love!

"who's this?"

is what you hear before you can even turn your head to see clark approaching you in the beanery. you had figured he wouldn’t even be here—he’d surely be supporting lana at the talon—but clearly the world had a way of taunting you, because you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“clark,” you start, finding it absolutely unbelievable that he found a way to worm himself into your life regardless of how much you tried to avoid him. “this is steven. steven, clark—my friend.” you give a pointed look to clark. “what’s up?”

“oh, i just wanted to see you.” you’re kidding. as often as clark says things which make you double take, this is not a time you doubt what he means; even your date is baffled by his words.

“i wanted your help, actually. with my english project," clark says, and it almost seems like he came up with that on the spot.

“what? clark, you’re good at english.” there is no way.

“well, this one’s giving me trouble.”

“i… can it wait? or can’t you ask chloe?” you try urging, hoping it'll make him get the hint.

“chloe’s busy.”

“okay, whatever, i can come by later.”

“i have a thing later," clark says, and it's taking all of your power not to strangle him. he never even acted this way if you were talking to people he knows.

“a thing?”

“yes, a thing." you roll your eyes, finding clark's behavior beyond absurd.

“you know what – i was gonna go soon anyway,” steven says awkwardly, standing.

“no, stay. clark was just going." you jump to your feet, trying to resolve the situation.

“no, i wasn’t!”

“oh my god, clark shut up!”

“i’ll call you, okay?” steven grabs his jacket, and that’s when you know that clark has entirely ruined this for you.

“are you sure? i’m sorry about him, he’s—”

“i’m what?” clark interjects.

“intruding.” you finish, and it's clark's turn to roll his eyes. “i really am sorry about this, my friends usually don’t interrupt my dates, i promise.”

“that’s okay. it was nice spending time with you.”

steven isn’t even out of earshot when you start scolding clark, swatting him with a magazine off the table. “are you serious?! what is wrong with you!”

“what’s wrong with me?”

“yes, you!”

“you’ve been avoiding me for weeks!”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, trying to play dumb.

“what am i talking about?" clark touches his hands to his chest, confused how you're turning this on him. "are you kidding? you used to hang out with me nearly every day, and now i barely even see you at school.”

“and?”

“and?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up. “and i like spending time with you? i care about you? is that seriously something i have to tell you?”

“maybe it is,” you say, hands moving to your hips.

“who even is that kid? you didn’t tell me you were going on a date.”

oh. oh.

“that’s what this is about?”

“uh. yeah. you tell me everything." the sass in his voice is a quick reminder that you have such strong feelings for clark, but you try to push that thought away. and clark's right, anyway. you would typically tell him most things.

“i do not tell you everything,” maybe it’s the way that you say it—or maybe it's just the sentiment in itself—but clark furrows his brows, the sentence hitting him like a punch.

“what don’t you tell me?”

“i don’t know, clark—things!” but you do know, and it’s that you’ve been harboring feelings with him for god knows how long. “you keep secrets from me all the time. i don’t pry.” and that seems to shut him up. “listen, can we not talk about this now? let’s go back to yours.”

“okay. okay, yeah,” he says, walking towards the door and holding it open for you. on the walk back to his house, you start talking about other things—the english project that he didn’t need your help with so urgently, the errands his mom had him run earlier, and what chloe had been telling him about yesterday.

clark’s english project took far less time than he’d hoped, and he was only able to keep you an extra half hour because his mom joined the conversation. and when you left, that only made the cut deeper, because she brought up how she’d barely been seeing you around lately. he doesn’t see you the next morning at school, and barely catches sight of you at the end of the day, talking to steven. he’s about to walk over there, interrupt the two of you again, but pete appears in front of him and drags him over to the torch before he can protest.

the next few days pass slower than time ever has for clark. it’s like he’s spending every minute thinking about you, and he doesn’t even realize why until it hits him that he’s been seeing lana with whitney and it doesn’t make him feel the same way it used to. the only thing making him feel that way is you. that realization occurs in his math class, and he nearly thinks that he’s around some of the meteor rock because of how it makes him feel. he’s lucky that his actual teacher is out sick, because when clark comes back from the bathroom, he’s already thinking about what he’s going to say to you.

“please open the door, please open the door, please open the door,” clark whispers to himself as he rings the doorbell. it’s not too long until the door’s creaking open, and luckily it’s you—not your parents—on the other side. “hey.”

“hi.”

“how are you?” he stalls.

“i’m fine. you?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe. honestly, it kills you to be so cold towards clark, but there’s not another way you can imagine to get over him. every second you’re with him is indescribable.

“i wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“okay.” you look back into the house before stepping out front, shutting the door gently behind you. it’s a moment of you looking at him expectantly before he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for your reaction.

“i don’t think you should see steven anymore.”

“what? why?”

“i just don’t think he’s the guy for you.”

“okay, well, that’s a really great and specific reason, clark,” you say sarcastically. “what do you have against him?”

“i don’t have anything against him!” wrong. “i just don’t want you going out with him.” and wrong thing to say.

“you don’t get to control who i go out with, clark.”

“that’s not what i meant–”

“what did you mean, then?” you ask, angrily. it takes clark by surprise, really, ‘cause he can’t remember the last time you’d snapped like that, and he never thought you’d react that way to him.

“i just think you deserve better.”

“you don’t even know him! you have no idea how he treats me.”

“just trust me.” clark looks down at you with what you can only describe as puppy eyes. “come on, i know you trust me.”

“i do trust you—usually—but this is so unlike you.”

“this is unlike you! you never talk about boys or going out with anyone or—”

“yeah, well maybe i had my eye on someone.”

“what?”

“nothing, clark! nothing.”

“how does you being interested in someone mean that you don’t ever talk about them?”

“god, clark, you’re so blind,” you mutter under your breath. “because it’s you!” oh.

“what?” clark replies, his eyes wide. it doesn’t even cross his mind what it actually means, he’s just so shocked. “what?”

“you heard what i said.”

“no, yeah, i did. but what?” “i’m not repeating myself.”

“how long?”

“i’m not answering that, clark. that’s humiliating.”

“no, it’s not. i—” he takes another deep breath, shaking his head slightly. “i’m jealous.”

“what?”

“of steven, i’m jealous of him. and i—i don’t really know where it’s come from, but i don’t want you seeing him, i want you seeing me,” clark’s words make you still, the anger being drawn out of your system. “i miss you,” he adds quietly.

“okay. wow. that’s… okay.”

“okay?” he teases, taking a step forward with a smirk. it’s starting to set in that you feel the same way, and he suddenly doesn’t feel so bad about the way he’s been sneaking glances at your lips this whole time. clark watches you grow a little nervous, starting to fluster, and he’s kicking his past-self for never realizing how cute you are.

“i’m nervous.”

“i can tell,” he smiles, the toothy grin nearly making you implode. “so, what does this mean?”

because of how close clark is, you’re having to really look up at him, and though it’s already hurting your neck, you can’t make yourself look away. “i’m not gonna talk to him anymore. i wasn’t going to, anyway. it’s not fair, using him to get over you.”

“was it working?” you shake your head. “good.” he’s staring down at you for another moment, and the silence isn’t awkward. all he’s waiting on is a sign, something to tell him that you actually do want him—more than just words. then you’re looking at his lips for a little longer than a simple glance, and he’s bending over, leaning in. clark would be lying if he says he’s not nervous, but he’s wasted so much time being blind to your feelings that he won’t do it any longer.

clark snakes a hand around your body, pulling you closer to him as he presses his lips to yours in what can only be described as a rom-com kiss. it feels that way, too, and he has to force himself off of you. he almost wants to apologize for how eager he is, but he doesn’t.

you stare at each other for another moment, like neither of you really knows what to say, and then you look to the side, half hiding your face as you try not to giggle out of excitement. “um, i have to go back inside. my parents are…”

“yeah, that’s okay,” clark says, beaming. “let me take you on a date. are you busy later?”

“no, later works,” you nod. clark huffs at how adorable it is, before glancing back at the front door—making sure nobody’s looking—and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“i’ll come get you at six.” he starts to walk off before turning back around, “and, uh, maybe wait a second before you go back in. your face is all red.”

#clark kent x reader #clark kent #clark kent smallville #smallville #smallville x reader #lana and whitney mention!!!#i wrote their kiss thinking about the one when he has the red k ring...#needthat

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mia-maybank · 12 days ago

Text

I Have A Feeling You Got Everything You Wanted: Part 2 - George Clarke

George Clarke x Fem!reader ( 2.2k words)

The sidemen charity match , a gorgeous ex-boyfriend with a mullet and his entire friendgroup scattered around the stands to avoid ... what could ever go wrong?

warnings: angst (they will get their happiness eventually I promise), hints of poor mental health but it's not a heavy focus, arguing.

series | masterlist

Thank you guys so much for the love on the first part! I hope you enjoy this part just as much <3 (also why is trying to write a breakup where both people come out of it looking like a good person so hard help)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time feels like it stands still as I shrink under the gaze of the very people I had been intending to avoid at all costs today. I felt like a deer in headlights, a child caught in the act of doing something I wasn't meant to, although I had technically done absolutely nothing wrong, except miss my ex-boyfriend.

The awkward silence stretches on, until Chris, seeming to realise that nobody is eager to be the one to break the silence, clears his throat and turns to look at the crowd of boys behind him.

"Uh, are you guys okay to give us 2 minutes?" he asks, and my stomach drops with a mix of relief at the thought of not being under the scrutinous gaze of all 6 guys any longer, but also dread at the thought of watching George walk away. Again.

2 Months Ago

I sit on the edge of my shared bed with George, picking at my fingers nervously whilst he paces the length of the bedroom, hands intertwined in the ends of his mullet. Usually, when my anxiety heightens and my tendency to pick my fingers raw and red takes over, George is straight over to cradle my hands and soothe my nerves with soft kisses to my knuckles and gentle whispers. Now, however, he can barely look at me, eyes darting around the room restlessly, never landing on one place for too long.

"I just don't like what's happened to us lately" I continue on with the half-conversation-half-argument that has seemed to go around in circles for the last hour, with neither one of us willing to back down, both too stubborn and passionate. It funny, the way the world works; the two traits that once brought us together in the beginning, when times were simpler and we could still dance around the pressures that life threatened to impose, are now the very qualities that may destroy our relationship entirely.

"We've been fine" George argues, sighing from across the room like he's tired of this argument. Usually, he would always hear me out and respect my opinion with the utmost tenderness and follow up with action to prove that he listened to me, however the strain that has loomed over our relationship for the last 2 weeks has taken a toll upon him just as much as it has me. "I've just been busier because I've had shoots with the sidemen - you know I would never avoid you on purpose."

"I know you haven't meant to George, but you have to understand how shit it feels to be pushed to the side suddenly because of work opportunities!" My voice rises now, frustration taking over the rational side of my brain as I felt like I wasn't being heard - something I wasn't used to with George, who was usually so attentive.

"Well maybe you need to understand how shit it feels to be trying to balance constant work commitments, friends, family and a girlfriend when everybody expects you to be perfect!" he snaps back, his face dropping when I flinch back. He tentatively takes a step towards me, and when I don't flinch again, he kneels in front of the bed, grasping my hands in his own and gazing up at me with a look so tender that my heart nearly wrenches itself straight out of my chest.

"Look, I think we’re trying to love each other in ways the other person doesn’t need.” his voice is tender, so tender that it almost doesn't match the cruel words he had previously uttered. "I think maybe we just need a break."

My heart drops at the dreaded words, tears springing to my eyes. But then I look at George's tear-stained, earnest face and know in that instant that I will do anything for this man, even if it involves ripping my heart right out of my chest over and over.

"Okay" I whisper, my voice cracking. "We'll take a break." He knocks his forehead gently against mine and I close my eyes, savouring his warmth against mine. I don't open my eyes when he kisses my forehead, slow and lingering, like he doesn't want to let go, and finally look up just in time to see him leave.

A day passes. I mope in bed. Then comes a week. I finally give up hope of any of our friend group reaching out to me. Then a month. I decide to leave the house for the first time since the breakup but can't find the motivation to make it out of the door. Then two months. And I give up completely.

One by one, the guys take Chris' not so subtle hint and leave. Simon looks between the two of us with poorly-concealed curiosity before turning away, patting George on the shoulder reassuringly as he leaves. Ethan and Max follow quickly, muttering between themselves, whilst Tobi offers me a reassuring smile and Harry a small nod before they continue up the stairs.

George doesn't move.

He finally unfreezes, relaxing his posture and turning towards Chris, his facial expression still irritatingly unreadable.

"Are you okay to give us a minute, mate?" he asks Chris, his voice taking on that gentle tone again that takes me back to the last time we spoke. Chris nods, stepping towards George and whispering something into his ear that makes his face crumple in concern before Chris turns back to me. "We will catch up later properly, alright?" the hopeful tone of his voice chips at the cage I've built around my heart the last two months and I nod, watching him break out in a relieved grin before he heads in the direction of what I guess is the changing rooms.

The silence lingers for a moment , both of us unable to stray our eyes away from each other or form a coherent sentence.

"Hi" I finally settle on. Hi? You've fantasised about this moment for the past 2 months and the best you can come up with is hi? I mentally scold myself, but to my relief his face breaks out into a soft, almost fond smile. God, I've missed that smile so fucking much.

"Hi" he echoes, and I melt inside as the sound of his voice greets my ears.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you on your big day" I apologise, suddenly self-conscious of how psychopathic sneaking around a football match that my ex-boyfriend is playing in seems. "I was planning on just coming to watch quietly and then slipping out without causing a scene, I guess that didn't really go to plan though".

He laughs softly, the sound a soothing melody to my lingering anxieties. "Yeah, you never were the plan maker for good reason". The past tense hurts more than I care to admit, but I force myself to brush it off as he continues to speak. "I'm sorry that you felt like you had to hide from everyone though, we all would have been really happy to see you."

He lets that statement settle for a moment, sitting on a step before patting the spot next to him. I sit down, close enough that our knees knock, and when he doesn't pull away I feel like a teenager with a crush on the boy sat next to her in class. He keeps his gaze steadily trained on mine, continuing with a much more raw, vulnerable edge to his voice now. "We all really miss you, y'know. I miss you".

I can't help the flame of anger that sparks in my chest at the clearly false sentiment, because if they missed me, why did nobody call?

"But...but you didn't call me George" I can't disguise the plain sadness that fills my tone, avoiding his eyes. "Two months and not one person called or texted me ... not once."

When I finally dare to look up, I'm surprised to see tears in his eyes and a flare of panic jolts through my chest at the thought that I might of upset him. I apologise quickly, but he shakes his head softly, his expression only saddening further.

"Don't you dare apologise" he finally utters, causing me to blink in surprise. "Chris told me about how you haven't left your flat since the breakup".

The concern and tears in his eyes suddenly make sense. "That snitching bastard, so that's what he whispered to you" I groan in exasperation and embarrassment, hiding my face in my hands.

He giggles gently, tugging my hands slowly from my face, the sudden contact sending shockwaves of electricity through my body, before much to my disappointment he drops my hands and a serious expression takes over his face once more.

"I'm so, so sorry that you felt isolated like that. Everybody presumed you wanted to be left alone and had moved on with different friends and a new life, but that was a fucking stupid assumption to make and we should have known better and reached out. I hate the thought of you all alone this entire time."

I don't know quite when it happened, but one minute I'm staring at him wordlessly as I process his words and the next I'm violently sobbing. He only hesitates for a fraction of a second before pulling me in, shielding me in his toned arms as I weep into his shoulder and dampen his shirt.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry" he keeps murmuring, and it's not until my sobs subside slightly 15 minutes later that I feel the dampness on the top of my head and realise that he is crying to.

Pulling back just enough to be able to see his expression and wipe the tears gently from his cheeks, I take shuddering breaths and he continues to hold me soothingly, one hand rubbing my back whilst his other thumb draws circles on my waist.

"I missed you" I finally feel brave enough to whisper into the air between us and he instantly pulls me back into a tight embrace.

"That argument two months ago" he murmurs into my hair, rocking us soothingly back and forth. "I've regretted every word I said every single day since. Every. Single. One."

I sniffle into his chest, nodding in agreement. "Me too."

"I wanted to reach out so badly" he admits, continuing to rock me slowly. "I thought you were better off without me, so I didn't. But I know I fucked up now. I carried on with living and filming with our friends like you hadn't just vanished off the face of the earth since our argument and that was so, so fucked up of me to do" his breath hitches and we slowly pull away from each other, assuming our much less intimate positions sat side by side on the steps.

I already missed his warmth, so I knock my leg against his own, relieved when he presses his skin against mine like he needs the contact just as much as I do.

"I did miss being a part of everything" I admit into the quietness of the corridor. "My youtube career, my friendships, me and you ... it all felt like it fell apart that day." I can barely stand to look at him, for the amount of guilt and pain his expression holds is almost unbearable.

"I'd like to prove to you again that you still have all that" he mutters almost shyly.

"Huh?" I furrow my brows, not understanding his statement.

"Your channel. Your friends. Me.. we are all still here if you want us." he lets out softly. "I know I sure as hell don't deserve your forgiveness but-".

"George" I interrupt softly before he can fall too far into his self-internalising guilt-fuelled spiral. "I messed up too. I could've reached out and I didn't."

His brow furrows. "Still not your fault" he counters, so familiarly stubborn that I almost giggle giddily despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Want to come say hi to everyone?" he asks almost sheepishly. "I know they all want to see you.. and we are going for drinks after.. only if you want to come, no pressure of course" he tacks on quickly at the end.

"Are you sure? I don't want to make it awkward or weird" I hesitate, doubt clawing at my insides.

"You won't, I promise" he sticks his pinkie out and I smile fondly at his childishness, linking my pinkie with his and allowing him to pull me up towards the lions den.

Well, here goes nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3 will be out in the next few days wehehe ... also I feel like I suck at writing dialogue so I do apologise

Tags:

@the-internets-girlfriend @madforgeorge @happyclifford @sidemenslver @heyitsmefall @bbygrlllllll @mothersversiononly @dopeysunflowers @kwonhoeshi @ooostarwarsfandom501st @liz140569 @artvscvntymullet @livvymd

Also everybody who asked to be on my tag list in the comments of part 1 is it just for this series or for any george fics/ ukyt fics in general? Just so I know what to tag you guys in :)

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zaynesdesimc · 1 year ago

Text

Magic

Moon Boys x reader<3

summary: you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?

A/N: okay the timeline is a bit wonky but here's what i thought while writing the fic. Jake dated you for a year and a half before putting a ring on it. And you've been married for three years. You met Steven and Marc a year ago and have been dating Steven for eight months. Marc became friends with you a month after meeting you. please comment and reblog if you liked it!

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

@jake-g-lockley

Marc was a lot of things. Pig-headed, stubborn, horrible at communication, a fighter. But he wasn't arrogant He could admit it when he didn't know something.

But right now he knew one thing and one thing only, that Jake was a prime idiot.

Marc stayed in the background when Jake was fronting around you, most of the time. Not always, of course. He wasn't a perv and one to to intrude between a husband and a wife. But he knew you. So did Steven, and you knew them.

He'd considered you his friend. Maybe one of his best, just months after meeting you. You and him shared many a night after Jake's missions talking and watching movies, when your husband was knocked out. You made him fall in love with chai, something that knocked Steven's socks off and he'd taught you the basics of baseball so you weren't clueless when you watched baseball with him.

It wasn't always so nice.

"You're married?!"

"Yeah, what's your problem with that?" Jake had become defensive, he wouldn't let Marc or Steven breathe a single ill word towards you.

"No, it's no problem at all, pal." Marc seethed, outraged, "except for the fact that I was married to Layla! God what if she almost say you when we were married? No wonder it ended!"

"Fuck off, man. You know full well why your marriage didn't work out with Layla. And unlike her, I told my lady fucking everything. She knows everything, from the cave to the sarcophagus. So she knew what to do and what to be careful of, including you. So don't blame my marriage for the reason yours didn't work out."

This was when Steven had interjected, he was unsurprisingly on Jake's side.

"He's right, Marc. If his wife knows everything then you can't blame him, and it's honestly rather mean and unfair of you to be angry at someone you haven't even met."

It took a few hours for Marc to calm down, and actually, apologise to Jake.

Hesitantly, Jake offered, "Y'know, if you want you can meet her. She practically knows everything about you and uh, Steven's most probably seen her around. She goes to the museum every week."

"Wait a minute! That lady with the Van Gogh tote bag?"

"Yup."

"Oh wow! She's really sweet, and beautiful! Hell, mate. You scored."

Jake had to smile at that, he knew he scored with you. For the longest time he felt like you were too good for him and that someone as kind, clever, intelligent and beautiful as you shouldn't have had to settle for someone like him. But you'd kiss away every ill thought he had about himself and reassure him. Communication was a very, very vital and important part of the relationship and you had helped him learn that it wasn't selfish to voice his thoughts. Especially because he put everyone's needs before his for so long.

"I know, man."

Steven had readily agreed to front and meet you, and Marc was okay with being co-conscious during the interaction as well. So on one fine day, Jake had brought them to the house he considered his home. He worked to contribute to it's rent, and buy things for it and for you. It was home, after all. You were his home.

Marc didn't know what to expect but when Jake had stepped in and hung his jacket on the stand and taken his shoes off, footsteps could be heard running from the main bedroom and he saw you running straight into Jake's arms. Jake laughed wildly, picking you up and twirling you around, much to your delight as you kissed the life out of him.

When he put you down, he could get a clear glimpse of you. Your hair was messy and your t-shirt was rumpled. And when he saw you smile he knew why Jake had fallen in love with you. Why Steven thought you were beautiful and sweet. Verything about you screamed, home.

Your greeting to Jake threw both the boys off, "Who the fuck are you?"

Jake smirked, "The fuck you mean, ma?"

"I mean, who." you poked him once, "are." twice, "you?" thrice and Jake started giggling. Fucking giggling like some little schoolgirl. You laughed too, and hugged him tight.

"Hey, baby." he kissed your forehead and you smiled.

"Hi." you kissed his nose.

"I have two guys who'd like to meet you."he raised his eyebrows.

Your jaw dropped a little, "For real? Wait, you're being serious, you're not screwing with me?"

"Why would I screw with you, when I could just screw you?"

The men in his head and you all let out a simultaneous groan.

Steven met you first, and it went swell, you'd both bonded over history and literature. And a love for Taylor Swift. But that was a secret. You liked him a lot and he positively adored you.

Marc, on the other hand, was much more closed off, he'd be polite, but he'd be curt as well. A combination you didn't know was possible.

After a few weeks of trying to bond with him, resulting in almost a small meltdown. It had taken Jake being knocked out after a mission and being too tired to eat to actually get him to talk to you over a meal.

It was one of the best things he'd eaten in his goddamn life and the groan he'd let out after the first bite brought a laugh out of you.

So yes, Marc would consider you one of his best friends. Steven and you had started going out with each other a few months ago and it was going so well.

But not Marc.

Because he didn't like you like that.

Of course not, you were his friend.

You were his friend who made him laugh because you had the same dark sense of humour. You hugged him when he needed one but was too uptight to ask you. You, who googled the Cubs and learnt everything you could about them just so you could talk to him as well, the way you talked to Steven about Jane Austen and the Indus Valley.

He didn't know when it became something more to him.

And he didn't see how you'd look him at him when he laughed, or when he was focused on the TV, or when he made you tea the way you liked it, Jake had taught him how to do that.

No, to him, you were just his best friend.

And you were currently crying your eyes out because Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight. He'd missed your anniversary because of a mission and he was working with Hathor's avatar. He failed to mention the part where he was forced to pretend they were a thing to prevent being caught and you'd caught him smelling of her perfume and gotten rightfully furious.

Not because of her, but because he didn't tell you that it had been happening for a few days. That the week he'd spent away from you, he'd had to pretend he was someone else's and he was too scared to tell you. That's why you were mad, because you thought he didn't trust you.

You'd raised your voice as he turned his back on you and he turned around, face contorted in rage. Steven tried calming him down as he stalked over to you. You stood your ground, Jake would never lay a hand on you. You knew that. But it was what he said, that broke you.

"You're being a fucking nuisance. Instead of trying to understand, you're being more of a burden by finding shit to get mad at. Grow the fuck up."

That prime ass had the audacity to call you a burden. A nuisance.

And then he had the fucking nerve to leave and complete his mission and give control to Marc. Steven had chewed the fuck out of him and Marc would have loved to as well, but he needed to see you. See if you were okay.

As soon as he stepped in, he saw you on the sofa, rapidly wiping your tears away. You sagged again when you knew it was him. Somehow you always knew.

He furrowed his eyebrows at your disheveled state. Your eyes were swollen and wet with tears and you were breathing very heavily and in quick spurts.

"What do you need?" Marc asked you, sitting down beside you.

"C-can I have" you coughed, "a hug, Marc?" you said in a small voice, looking away.

Marc immediately moved to hug you close. Shushing you when you began to cry again.

What hurt was that he knew, and Jake knew, and Steven knew that you hated being a burden or an inconvenience to anyone. And today, the one man you trusted the most in this world had made you feel like that. And he couldn't even apologize.

'Jake you fucking idiot.' he rocked you a little, 'you better come out and fix this. she may be our friend but this is because of you, fix this.'

Jake remained silent in the reflection of the mirror next to the door. He looked wrecked at seeing you sob, and tears were falling down his own eyes.

'Mate.' Steven spoke up, he sounded mad, 'You made our girl cry. Stop being a fucking coward and fix this!'

When he was met with silence, Steven seethed, 'Marc, gimme the body.'

You knew exactly when it was Steven hugging you, and you kissed his cheek and breathed him in.

"Oh, love." he tried to comfort you, "I'm sorry. You're not a burden, I promise you." he kissed your forehead.

"I know that, Steven. I know I'm not a burden to you. I'm scared I'm becoming one to him. He doesn't even want to look at me!" you sniffed.

Steven glared at Jake in the mirror, who was wiping away his own tears.

Steven and Marc knew why Jake was so worked up. They knew that whoever Jake and Hathor's avatar was after called their bluff. They knew that those people had found the woman's partner and Jake was terrified for you and he couldn't even tell you because he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any feeling you had that wasn't bliss, happiness, content, or pleasure. And because he was sure he could find those assholes and beat the living shit out of them for even thinking of harming you.

But it wasn't their place to tell you, that much was apparent. Jake dug his grave, and then jumped into it. He had to crawl out of it on his own now.

"I just want to be someone he's happy to be with." you whisper and that's when Jake straightened up, heartbroken.

"Give me the body, hermano."

"All yours."

Only Jake scrunched the back of your shirts when he hugged you and you moved to hug him tightly as he whispered apologies in your ear.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel like you were a burden and that I was anything but fucking delighted to be with you." he kissed your nose and then told you everything. Looking away because he was scared.

"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't want to just say that I had to pretend I was dating someone else and then fuck off for a week. I made a mistake in assuming that'd you get mad and it's because if I was in your place, I would be. But you're stronger than me, tesoro, and I failed to see that and I'm so sorry."

"Baby, I forgive you." you replied and he breathed out a sigh of relief, "But please, don't keep stuff like this in, okay? You can trust me, you know that."

He nodded fiercely and then he kissed you. Noses nudging and lips parting as he breathed you in like you were his lifeline, and he yours. He cupped your face and held you tight against him and when he pulled away you smiled at him, your eyes shining.

Steven fronted again with a little smile and you kissed him lovingly with a whispered 'i love you'. He just winked at you and kissed the back of your hand and then your forehead again before Jake took back control and carried you to the bed, kissing you deeply all the way.

----

Marc was fine, no he just needed a glass of water. He'd carefully rolled off the bed, thankful that he was at least wearing sweatpants and padded to the kitchen.

He should have known that you were a light sleeper.

"Marc." you began, your voice raspy.

He hummed in reply and held out his glass to you. You accepted it and drank your fill, giving it back to him.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke up, "I thanked Steven for comforting me. But I didn't thank you." you cleared your throat, "Thank you, Marc." you said, sincerely, "You're one of my best friends."

Marc smiled at you. Actually smiled. And you smiled back and kept going, "And Jake and Steven know this and are okay with it so I-"

"You don't have to thank me, honey." he patted your shoulder, trying to conceal his tears as he looked away because god he was dumb. Dumb enough to realize now, that he loved you, "I'm glad I'm your friend."

To him, you were everything. You were sunrays and moonbeams and everything that he believed was magical as a boy. Everything he stopped believing in as he grew up. The first time you made him laugh and joined him he felt sure that magic existed after all, because what else could you be?

He tried walking past you but you held his hand and he froze, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You walked over to him and held his face in your hands. His eyes shut as you wipe away his tears. And he whimpered as you kissed his forehead.

"Marc. Open your eyes and look at me." you said softly.

He was terrified. That you'd seen past his mask and were going to let him down gently. Because to you, what could he be? Certainly nothing more than a friend.

"Sweetheart. Please."

When his eyes finally opened, they met yours.

"Marc. I fucking love you." you confessed and he let out a sob. Pulling you into a tight hug.

"I love you. God I love you so much, Sweetheart." he says into your hair, kissing all over your face, but not your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" you asked him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

He nods and your hands travel to his locks and pull them lightly as you bring your lips to his own. Humming sweetly as he wraps his arm around you and licks into you.

Yes, he reasons yet again as you hold his face in your hands and smile at him, magic does exist. And it's in his arms. He loves it and so do the men in his head who cheer for him, albeit sleepily, looking at you lovingly.

And they'd never let you go.

#jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #jake lockley angst #marc spector angst #moon knight angst #moon knight #marvel cinematic universe #oscar isaac x reader

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chrissturnsfav · 6 months ago

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rapper!chris putting singer!reader moans in his songs

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris puts an erotic twist into one of his tracks

you're sat in the dimly lit studio, the faint smell of weed and a hint of cologne lingering in the air.

chris is next to you at the mixing console, a pair of headphones draped casually around his neck with a joint between his fingers. he has his signature grin on his lips, the one that’s equal parts mischievous and confident. he looks excited, but you're not sure what's got him all riled up.

“i got sum'n f'you,” he says, his voice brimming with excitement.

you raise an eyebrow at him. “what’s that look for?” you tease, a smirk on your lips.

he hums, prodding his tongue at the inside of his cheek, swiveling around to face the console, “you’ll see.”

chris hits play, and the track begins. the bassline is smooth, the beat infectious, and his flow—well, it’s chris, so it’s good. really good.

the lyrics are a bit erotic, though it's nothing you haven't heard chris rap about before. but this is different, it's more intimate, more descriptive, more sexy.

you’re nodding along, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm. then, about halfway through, something catches your attention. chris is watching you, the same half excited half playful smirk on his lips as he takes a drag from the joint.

you lean forward, your ears straining. no fucking way...

the song continues, and there’s no mistaking it now. layered into the beat, perfectly timed with the drops and rhythm, are soft, intimate moans—your moans.

your jaw drops, and for a second, you can’t process what you’re hearing.

“chris!” you yell, eyes wide as you whip your head toward him, a grin of disbelief on your mouth.

he’s already laughing, leaning back in his chair like he’s been waiting for this exact reaction. “y'like it?” he says between chuckles, his wicked grin spreading even wider as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“there's no fucking way,” you manage to choke out, half mortified, half trying not to laugh yourself.

“you put my moans in a song?! when did you even—how did you—?” your voice trails off, your mind a whirlwind of confused thoughts and questions.

“last week when we fucked in'ere, y'don't remember, ma?” he asks, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you groan, covering your face in your hands as you lean forward in your chair. you're still in disbelief, but part of you thinks this is definitely something chris would do.

he's snickering beside you, "oh, my bad...forgot y'were too busy ridin' me, guess y'didn't notice i started recordin'," he jokes cockily, almost as if he's taunting you, his voice a bit muffled by the joint between his lips as he takes another drag.

you can’t help the giggle that escapes. “chris, you’re insane. my mom listens to your music!”

he leans closer, his expression softening slightly as he tries to reassure you with a hand on your knee. “relax, ma. nobody’s gonna know s'you, people put moans in songs all the time. besides,” he adds, flashing that signature smirk again, “y'sound so pretty.”

you pick your face up, cheeks slightly rosy as you flash him a mocking glare. “you’re unbelievable," you chuckle.

“admit it,” he says as he passes you the joint, “s'kinda fire.”

you shake your head, still laughing as you accept the joint. “yeah, yeah, it’s fire. but if my mom finds out, you’re explaining this one.”

chris rolls his eyes, “aight, whatever,” he chuckles, scrunching his face up when you playfully blow the smoke in his face, his hand swatting the cloud away. “yo, chill wit' that before i tell your mom who's moans these are,” he smirks evilly.

you groan, leaning back in your chair with a frown at him, taking another rip from the joint, but this time exhaling the smoke to the side.

chris' smirk grows, snickering under his breath as he swivels his chair to face the console again, “yeah, that's what i thought.”

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

#ᰔᩚ rapper!chris x singer!reader prompt #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #ᰔᩚ rapper!chris x singer!reader #chrissturnsfav ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets x you

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killuakiru · 6 months ago

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hiiii!! omg ive been SCOURING for a hxh blog for a while bro there’s barely any that’s active 😭😭 could i request dating hcs for the main four? ty!! :3

YES I ABSOLUTELY CAN !! I've been waiting for a main 4 request !! I CAN FINALLY POST intrams r coming to a close so praise the lord 🙌 I promise I am working yall

⊹₊⋆ Lovey-Dovey!ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⊹₊⋆ Gn!Reader x K.Zoldyck, G.Freecss, L.Paradinight, K.Kurtaᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

༉‧₊˚. Start !༉‧₊˚.

༉‧₊˚. Killua Zoldyck !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Let's start with some pre-dating head canons !

• Honestly, seeing Killua's personality, he'd be really low-key about it and casual for some reason..

• You literally wouldn't think he likes you to that extent, but your label as his "best friend" Says numbers to him.

• Killua definitely confessed during his vulnerable moments, having a solemn and sad expression as he spoke. "The way you treat me compares to no other, but.. With my background, can I really be with someone so pure?"

• His words left you perplexed. What did his words mean at this current situation? "What are you saying..?" You mumbled with a raised eyebrow.

• "I'm saying I like you." Killua mumbles, a tint of irritation and vulnerability in his tone as he sighs.

• Post-dating head canons !

• The whole week you've been dating, everything was low-key. You were both casual with hints of romantic teasing gestures from him.

• Killua isn't the clingy or touchy type, but he'd always snake an arm around your shoulder and let you lean your body against his if he wants to feel your presence.

• Additionally, if he's feeling protective or in a scenario where you guys are in an unknown territory, he'll hold your hand and guide you.

• Killua isn't also the one to say direct praise, since he's known for not saying a simple gratitude to his friends, so he just gives you a small smile or nod of acknowledgement.

• The ways he shows his affection– is simply with the small actions he does. Whether it's the smallest. Placing a hand on your back and rubbing it, making you link your arm in his, and other stuff.

• Also, Killua absolutely LOVES admiring your expression or your appearance in general. His favorite thing to constantly look at? Your eyes. He probably thinks it's super cliche, but; he's simply a sucker for em. He loves seeing your true feelings and the bright shine of your eyes, it makes him fall for you again and again.

• His favorite activities he loves doing with you is probably just to spend quality time. Walking around the forest, sitting around a bond fire with your group, and more. That's his ideal.

• While Killua isn't verbal about his affection, you can easily tell that this boy is deeply in love with you and your whole being.

⊹₊⋆ Gon Freecss !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Gon is and would probably be the clingy type AT THE RIGHT TIME.

• He vocalizes his feelings a lot! Even an idiot would know that you're his beloved!

• "yn!! How're you doing?! Hope you're doing great!! I love you a bunch!" That's almost your wakeup call at this point.

• Pre-dating scenarios !!

• With how sweetly he treats other people in general, you assume that in a scenario where Gon is in a relationship he won't be that serious.

• But ohhh boy were you proved wrong when he confessed.

• "Did you know? I really like you. You're an amazing person.. You're super nice and everything, so uh.." He sheepishly confessed, rubbing his nape with a soft smile on his face.

• He seemed so genuine with his words, and we all know that Gon is honestly such a bad liar.

• Post Dating head canons !!

• my GOD does this boy give random trinkets.

• Oh he saw a flower while Killua and he was walking? Boom, flower crown. Oh he found a twig that formed into a heart shape? Boom it's in your possessions now.

• In contrast to everyone, Gon's super adventurous; his favorite activities he'd do with you is to travel around the world, a more realistic idea is travel to a place where you both haven't gone to yet.

• Gon isn't all that clingy as well, again– Gon is pretty clingy at the right time.

• The said "right time" is where he sees you after such a long time. Pulling you into a long and warm hug with hushed words of assurance from your tongue, Gon feels absolutely loved.

• He loves your whole being so much, he'll absolutely cherish every moment with you.

• His favorite thing about you isss I would say.. Your emotions, probably. Your emotions are his kinda! Seeing you down, he's also down. Seeing you happy brings a bright smile to his face, and he'll relish every happy moment with you.

• Gon will always and never forget to say a reminder that he'll forever love you to his heart's content. He'll never fail to voice his feelings, why would he? He knows you love him as well, and the affection he has for you is immeasurable.

༉‧₊˚. Kurapika Kurta !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Ouu this guy.. He irritates me to no end.

• He is SO quiet with his feelings and he's so naturally distant, naturally you'd also distance yourself from him.

• Why would you even try?! Clearly, he's "uninterested" And wants to keep things casual. Of course, this pains you because you really want to take things higher.

• Months passed, he started growing busy with his job as a Bounty Hunter. You thought you could use this as an opportunity to move on!

• But y'know what they say. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

• Both sides missed each other dearly, with no one to chat with and share their inner feelings, yn soon grows lonely.

• With no one to listen to and have no company of the one he trusts the most, Kurapika grew regretful.

• When they both met again, Kurapika didn't hesitate to cup your hands ever so gently with a look of subtle desperation in his eyes.

• "yn.." He softly calls, his voice was like a thousand melodies that sang only for your ears to hear. His expression was so very vulnerable, it made you love him more.

• "I'm so sorry." He apologizes, removing his hands from yours and gently pulling you into a hug, placing a firm yet soft hand on your scalp and having an arm wrapped around your shoulder.

• Everything escalated from there, and in a hypothetical situation, you became a Bounty Hunter too! ( if you had no plans for the other Hunter titles )

• His favorite activities to do with you is to lounge around, read a book with your fingers intertwined and have you leaning on him for support.

• With you, Kurapika believes he can achieve the life he wants. After gathering the scarlet eyes of his clan.

• Kurapika's loyalty lies with you and no one else, rest assured. He can forever guarantee your safety if you're with him.

• Similarly to Killua, Kurapika isn't vocal about his affection. But he would whisper a soft "I love you." And a "I'm sorry I can't be there for you."

• Kurapika is known to be really distant, so you have to be patient with him. And he loves you so dearly. Imagine loving someone so hard to love? Kurapika believes he was truly blessed to have a significant other like you.

• His favorite thing about you is your voice, no doubt. He can listen to your emotions even when he has his eyes closed.

• Kurapika isn't one to trust easily, so seeing him close his eyes to listen to you?? It's an achievement. He's basically lowering his guard and trusting you with his life in a literal sense!

• Additionally, he loves watching you do your hobbies. The way your lips form into a smile filled with purity, the complete opposite of what he does. The way your laugh sounds like an elegant butterfly garden– it was a weird way to explain it. But in other words; ethereal.

• You'll forever, and I mean EVER be the love of his life, the light of his life, his everything. He'll sacrifice a lot for you, and that's a given.

⊹₊⋆ Leorio Paradinight !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Ah, yes. This man.

• Low-key? Not in his vocabulary. He likes you? Oh it's painfully obvious– well I mean it's not like he's trying to hide it, really..

• It's amazing how you two clicked! Leorio with his very odd-feminist tendencies is... Eh.

• But hey! You two worked it up in the end, and he's madly in love with you. That's great, really!

• Leorio LOVES to flaunt you off. "Look at them! My gorgeous soul mate!" He exclaims with heart eyes, leaving you baffled at his volume and growing embarrassed at the amount of looks you're getting.

• Yeah! He always says an exaggerated "I love you!" In many instances, Leorio will alwayssss give you a lil smooch somewhere on the face.

• Honestly, Leorio isn't ashamed at all. Why would he? He'll freely show his affection to the one he views his soul mate– someone who is destined to be bound to each other.

• Despite Leorio's reputation, he's quite a gentleman. He's willing to sacrifice a lot of his time for you, and mind you– time is crucial for medic students.

• He respects your boundaries more than anyone else's. If he accidentally crosses the line with one of them, he'll give a genuine apology and makes it clear that those weren't his intentions at all.

• Leorio's favorite activity to do with you varies– he lovesss taking you out on small lil dates, like library dates to just sit in silence and bask in each other's presence, or an extraordinary one where he'll take you to a club and have fun.

• He ends up passing out drunk leaving you to take care of him and listen to his endless complaints the next morning– but he repays you by being extra nicer the next day.

• His favorite thing about you would be– well, your torso. NOT IN THAT WAY.

• It's simply his favorite because he can easily snake his arms around you despite your size.

• He's.. Well, clingy. He loves lovesss having his hands around you. He refuses to keep his hands to himself if you're around.

• But all in all, Leorio's a great person. He's willing to drop everything he has to heal you if you're in pain or try to find something for you. He's that committed, I promise.

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Thank you for reading ! This strictly belongs to me / killuakiru and I do not give permission for you to repost on other platforms, thank you !

480 notes · View notes

springtyme · 1 year ago

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heyy love, could you do an aaron hotchner x fem bau reader where they dated in secretly for a while but then he broke up with her. the reason he broke up with her is because he is her boss and that always was something that made him feel doubtful about their relationship. it’s up to you if you want to end it with an happy ending.

thank youu

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 ♡

Thank you so much for the request, dear anon! Such a lovely one and I was so happy to write for Hotch! mwah <3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

summary: You suspect that you've been in love with Aaron Hotchner since you first laid eyes on him three years ago. Now you're on your way to Idaho to go on your first case together since he broke your heart two weeks ago.

word count: 4.5k

warnings/tags: Angst and fluff. Boss/employee relationship. Hurt/comfort. Heartbreak. Kissing. Sharing a bed. (first time I write for Hotch, so please bear with me) Haven't proof read yet. I don't know if I really like how it ended up tbh, but maybe it's just because I was really tired while writing it..?

You keep your gaze on the pages of the book, despite the words keep blurring together and after having read the same paragraph four times over, without even having registered what you have read. You’ve given up on actually getting any reading done, but you don’t want anyone talking to you right now and you still have almost four hours left before you land in Idaho. So you keep eyes glued to the book, hoping that the act of pretending to read will deter any unwanted conversation.

You can feel his eyes on you, not all the time, but you feel how his gaze occasionally lingers on you. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you sense his presence nonetheless.

Taking in a deep breath you look up from the book to steal a glance in his direction, catching his eye for a brief moment before he looks away. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, a hint of longing that mirrors your own. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by the stoic mask he wears so well as he continues his conversation with Derek.

The last two weeks have been painful, filled with a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions since Aaron had ended your relationship, before it even had a chance to really begin. It’s been three years since you joined the BAU and from the very beginning you had felt drawn to Aaron Hotchner in a way that defied logic and reason, like there was a connection between you that transcended the professional boundaries of boss and subordinate.

A silly crush is what it had started as, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized that what you felt was far more than just that. It was a deep, undeniable attraction, a connection that went beyond the surface level. And as time passed, that initial spark grew into something more profound, something that stirred your soul and filled your heart with warmth.

Sometimes you had let yourself hope that he felt the same way, that the moments of shared glances and unspoken words between you held a deeper meaning, but you had never dared act on it, or let yourself get your hopes up too high. The reality of Aaron’s position as your boss and the boundaries it imposed had always stood as a barrier. The unspoken rules of professionalism, the fear of risking his or your career and the harmony of the team had kept your feelings hidden, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation.

It was three months ago that things had changed between you. It had been a moment of vulnerability, a shared confession during a late-night conversation with the raw emotions of the aftermath of an exceptionally harrowing case that had laid bare the depths of your emotions, and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long had reached a point of no return.

He had kissed you that night and it was sweet and tender, yet charged with unspoken desire and desperation. It was a moment of surrender, a brief glimpse into a world where the barriers between you could be broken down and the feelings you had both been suppressing could be allowed to flourish.

The next couple months had been a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered confessions, each one deepening the bond between you in ways that words could never fully capture. There were secret meetings in secluded corners of the BAU office, stolen kisses in the quiet of the night, and shared glances that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, a shadow began to loom over your newfound connection. Aaron had started to act distant and reserved, his once warm and affectionate demeanor now replaced by a noticeable aloofness. And two weeks ago on a night where the both of you had stayed late to finish some reports he had told you that it all had been a mistake, and that the two of you should maintain a strictly professional relationship moving forward.

His words had cut through the air with a sharp finality and landed like a heavy blow, shattering the fragile hope that had still lingered within you. Aaron’s eyes had been averted, unable to meet your gaze as he spoke the words that shattered your heart.

You steal another glance at Aaron, watching as he maintains his composure in conversation with Derek, his mask of professionalism firmly in place.

You turn back to your book, the words still a jumbled mess on the page. You can’t pretend to read anymore, not when your heart is heavy with memories and unspoken words. With a sigh, you close the book, making Emily, who is seated across the aisle, glance up from the case file she is reading with a questioning look.

You offer her a faint smile, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy despite the turmoil swirling within you.

“You okay?” she asks as she sets aside the case file. You appreciate her gesture, knowing that Emily’s intuition often went beyond words.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you. With a small nod, you offer Emily a reassuring smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind,” you reply softly, the words carrying a weight that belie their simplicity.

Emily nods in understanding, her gaze holding a sense of sympathy. “He’s an idiot, by the way,” she says with a wry smile, and you feel how your heart stops for a second, panicking at the thought of Emily uncovering the truth of what has unfolded between you and Aaron.

“What do you mean?” you stammer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for Emily’s response.

Emily just smiles at you as she picks up her file again. “We’re profilers, it’s not hard to read between the lines,” Emily says with a knowing glint in her eyes, her smile reassuring and understanding. “And you’re not as hard to read as you think, it’s clear that you have been dating someone, you have been looking like a smitten kitten for months, it’s been really cute to see, by the way, but something has changed recently. You’ve been distant, and often lost in thought sulking,” Emily continues, her tone gentle yet perceptive.

It’s not like it really surprises you, given how perceptive Emily is, and how deeply you’ve been feeling the shifts in your relationship with Aaron, but you had still hoped that you could have hidden your feelings from colleagues.

“So, yeah, whoever he is that has you feeling like this is an idiot, you’re clearly a catch,” Emily says with a reassuring smile, her words carrying a sense of warmth and understanding.

You feel relief wash over you, though Emily has sensed that you’ve been heartbroken, she hasn’t figured out that it is your boss that has been the course of it.

“Thanks, Em,” you say, offering the dark haired woman a tired but grateful smile.

Emily returns your smile. “If you ever need to talk or just... not talk, I’m here,” she offers, her voice warm and reassuring.

“I appreciate that,” you say, and you do really mean it, but you know that you’re not ready to talk about any of this yet. “But I think I’ll try to take a nap first, hopefully clear my head a bit before we land.”

“Mm, sounds like a plan,”Emily responds with a soft chuckle.

Grabbing the blanket from the empty seat next to you, you lean back in your seat, engulfing your body in the soft, fluffy material.

Before closing your eyes you cast one last glance at Aaron, his profile etched against the soft glow of the cabin lights. The memories of stolen moments with stolen kisses floods your mind, mingling with the ache of his recent rejection. You feel a pang in your heart, a mix of longing and sorrow, as you turn away, curling up in your seat, closing your eyes to the world outside.

You pull the blanket closer around you, the soft warmth of the blanket envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and security, providing a shield against the turmoil of your heart. The gentle hum of the airplane engines lulls you into a state of relaxation, the rhythmic sound serving as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts and emotions.

As you feel yourself drifting further into the realm of sleep, your senses start to weaken, the sounds of the airplane cabin fading into a distant murmur and you barely register the tears gently sliding down your cheeks before you drift off.

· · · · ·

You’re softly pulled out of sleep by the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder. As you slowly flutter your eyes open, the soft glow of the cabin lights illuminates the figure beside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re about to land,” Derek’s voice is warm and filled with a hint of amusement as he gently rouses you from your slumber.

You blink a few times, the remnants of sleep still lingering in your mind as you adjust to the reality of the present moment. With a small smile, you offer Derek a nod of gratitude. Slowly, you sit up in your seat, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you get ready for touchdown.

As the plane begins its descent, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - longing, sorrow, and a hint of resignation. The turbulence of your heart echoes the turbulence in the jet cabin as you start dissenting onto a lower altitude.

As the cabin lights dim in preparation for landing, you look up to find Aaron’s eyes looking in your direction, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he looks away, a shadow covering his features in the soft glow. This would all be so much easier if he would stop looking at you all the time.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as the plane continues its descent. The mix of longing and sorrow in your heart feels almost suffocating, but you push it aside. You have to focus, have to keep your head clear for the sake of the case, you are a professional and you are not going to let your emotions cloud your mind. As the wheels touch the runway with a slight jolt, signaling your arrival in Idaho, you

And as the team disembarks from the plane and makes their way to the awaiting SUVs, you feel a sense of resolve settling within you, happy to no longer be confined to the limited room of the jet cabin and as you step out into the crisp evening air, you release a sigh of relief.

You watch Aaron walk ahead of you, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable as he walks to one of the cars and you beeline for the other. You keep your gaze fixed outside the window for most of the car ride, watching the landscape pass by in a blur as the car speeds towards its destination, a little sleepy town about an hour away.

As you and the team arrive at the local police station, you can feel the tension between you and Aaron simmering just beneath the surface. The case at hand requires your full attention, and you push aside the turbulent thoughts and emotions that threaten to consume you as you focus on the task at hand.

Throughout the evening and early night, you work alongside the team, profiling the unsub and piecing together clues to hopefully catch the unsub before they strike again. The familiarity of the work, the rhythm of profiling and investigating grounding you in the present moment, making you go into a state of laser focused professionalism. You find a sense of purpose in the work you do, a reminder that you are more than the turmoil of your emotions.

But as the night wears on, the team regroups at the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before continuing the investigation in the morning. You find yourself standing outside the small hotel, looking up at the dark, star lit sky and as you turn to head inside and join the rest of the team, you feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as you see Aaron standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you, his usual stoic expression faltered, his brown eyes softening as they meet yours.

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet night, and suddenly, you know that the decision you have made to the hard choice you’ve struggled with for the past two weeks is the right one.

Without saying a word, you walk towards him, a mix of uncertainty and determination coursing through you. As you come to a stop in front of him, he opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a hand to silence him. “Not here,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you gently take his hand, leading him towards a secluded corner of the hotel grounds.

As you come to a stop, you turn to face him, the dim light of the night casting shadows across his face. With a heavy sigh, you search his eyes for any sign of the man you once knew, the man who had kissed you with such tenderness and held you with such care, the man you think might’ve even loved you. You had loved him, had long before he kissed you, and you still love him.

“Aaron, I…” you begin, trailing off as you feel all the words in your head leave you as you look into his eyes, remembering that night he had kissed you for the first time. It had been a late night just like this one, it had been the first time you had ever called him by his first name.

“Let’s sit,” he says, his voice gentle yet strained, as he guides you to a nearby bench. You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Finally, Aaron speaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for leading you on, for... for everything.” His words are filled with regret, and you can see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own.

He reaches out his hand, hesitating before resting it on yours. His touch is soft and hesitant but filled with unspoken longing and you feel how your heart skips a beat, how you have missed the feeling of him touching you, even if it’s just the slightest of touches.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice now barely above a whisper.

‘But it did hurt, it hurt so, so much’, is what you want to say. But as you look into Aaron’s eyes, filled with regret and vulnerability, you find yourself unable to form the words, the intensity in the warm, chocolate brown depths of his gaze rendering you speechless. You see the conflict within him, the turmoil of emotions swirling beneath the surface, and you feel the need to avert your gaze.

You look down at his hand on yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine in the balm night air. For a moment, you allow yourself to savor the familiar sensation, the connection that still linger between you despite the circumstances.

Aaron’s hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent plea for understanding. “You deserve so much better than that,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

You take a deep breath, the words forming in your mind before you speak them out loud. “Maybe I don’t want you to decide for me what I do and don’t deserve,” you say, looking up at him again, your voice steady despite the feelings swirling within you. Aaron’s eyes widen slightly at your words, a mix of emotions crossing his features.

Now it’s his turn to be lost for words, which for some reason seems to give you a bit more courage. You fill your lungs with another deep breath before opening your mouth.

“I’m quitting,” you declare, your voice firm and resolute. You’ve been struggling with making the decision, but as you look at Aaron now, face lit up by the soft moon light you know that it is the only decision for you, you are never gonna be able to let him go if you keep working for the BAU. “I’m turning in my resignation letter when we get back from this case.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on your hand tightening even more as he processes your words. The weight of your statement hangs heavy in the air between you, the unspoken implications of what this means for both of you settling in. You can see how a myriad of emotions flicker across his face – surprise, concern, and perhaps a glimmer of something else that you can’t quite place.

“You can’t do that,” Aaron’s voice is firm but filled with a mix of concern and resignation, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt

You can’t help but feel a pang of hurt at his words, it’s not like you had expected him to be happy about your decision, but a little, and probably naive, part of you had hoped that he would acknowledge that it would be the solution to how the two of you could be together, hoped that he still wanted that. But you’re not leaving the BAU for the slim chance that you can be with Aaron. You’re quitting because it’s become clear to you that it is the only solution. If the only time you can push aside the pain of being around him is when you’re actively investigating a violent crime case, you have to let him go, and you can only do that by leaving the BAU.

“Yes, I can… I have to, I think,” you say firmly, yet you feel your heart breaking a little by the thought of leaving. “I need to do this for myself. For my own well-being,” you continue, your gaze unwavering as you look into his eyes. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.”

Aaron remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. Finally, he sighs, a hint of resignation in his voice. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he admits, his voice heavy with regret.

“I know,” you reply softly, a tinge of sorrow coloring your words. “But we both knew the risks when we started this.”

“I should never have put you in this position,” Aaron says, his gaze dropping to the ground as he speaks. “I should never have kissed you that night. Ilet my own feelings cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. I’m your boss, and I took advantage, and I-I hurt you, and…”

“No, look at me, please.” You reach out and gently cub his cheek in your hand, making him meet your gaze. “Aaron, it wasn’t just you. I wanted it too, I wanted to be with you,” you confess, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “I wanted to take the risk because I thought it was worth it. And maybe it was, for a while. But we can’t keep going like this, Aaron. It’s not fair to either of us.”

Aaron’s eyes search yours, a mix of emotions swirling within their depths. “What are you saying?” he asks softly, his voice filled with a hint of desperation.

“I’m saying that I need to let you go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to let go of this hope that maybe someday we could find a way to be together. I can’t keep holding on to something that’s only causing us both pain.” Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you speak, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. But despite the pain, you feel a sense of clarity wash over you, a sense of liberation in finally speaking the truth.

Aaron’s eyes soften, his hand coming up to gently grasp yours that’s still cupping his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. You offer him a sad smile, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

“Me too, Aaron,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. As you stand up from the bench, you turn to walk away, the weight of your decision settling in your heart. But before you can take a step, you feel a hand grasp yours, stopping you in your tracks. You turn back to see Aaron standing before you, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of something you can’t quite place.

“I...I can’t let you leave without saying this,” Aaron begins, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and in the process, I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let you go without telling you that I love you. ”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the depth of his confession washing over you like a wave. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for the two of you. “But what does that mean, Aaron?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. “What are you saying?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he speaks. “I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to live with the regret of letting you slip away. I want to fight for a future where you are a part of my life. I know it won’t be easy, I know there are risks and complications, but I can’t let you go without at least trying cause I love you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into Aaron’s eyes, the sincerity and love shining within them filling your heart with warmth and longing. Taking a step closer to Aaron, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with determination.

“I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. Without another word, he closes the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss filled with passion and longing. The world falls away as you melt into each other, lost in the moment of shared love and desire as the man you love kisses you under the moonlight.

The kiss deepens, becoming a promise of the future you both want to fight for, a pledge to overcome the obstacles that stand in your way, a balm for the weeks of heartbreak. And as you break apart, breathless and filled with emotion, you feel how your entire body shivers, already missing the feeling of Aaron’s warm lips against yours.

“You’re freezing,” Aaron frowns, quickly shredding himself of his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. “Let’s get you inside.”

You nod, your heart swelling with hope and love as he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the hotel. Hotel might be a little generous; it’s more of a bed and breakfast, with so few rooms that the team had to pair up and share, but it was the only accommodation in town and it is not like you and the team aren’t used to having to share rooms from time to time.

It turns out the rest of the team has already paired up and hit the hay, leaving only one room since you’re the last two to arrive. “Looks like you and I’ll have to share a room,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, an hour ago you would be horrified by it, but now you’re absolutely thrilled about it.

“Yeah, looks like it,” he says with a soft smile on his face as you get your keys before taking your hand in his again and leading you to your shared room.

As you step inside, the warmth of the room envelops you, melding with the warmth of Aaron’s touch as he pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours once more in a sweet, tender embrace. In the dim light of the hotel room, with the moon casting a soft glow through the curtains, the emotions swirling within you are no longer suffocating, but freeing, as you surrender to the love that has bound the two of you together.

As you finally break apart and look around it turns out that the room is a twin room, with two beds divided by a bedside table. It makes sense that your coworkers didn’t leave you to share a room with a shared bed.

You share a knowing look with him before the both of you start to quickly get ready for bed, it’s late and you’re both exhausted and there is only a few hours till you’ll need to get up again.

You share one last kiss before moving to your respective beds, but as you lay there, the distance between you feels unbearable. The man you have been pining over for three years has just a little while ago told you that he loves you after weeks of heartbreak and he lies so close yet you can’t even touch him? That’s ridiculous!

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice filled with longing as you look at Aaron.

“I know,” he replies, his voice just as filled with yearning as he pulls his covers to the side letting you slip into the bed with him.

You settle into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and you feel as if you’re finally coming home. The walls that had been built between you are crumbling down, allowing you to embrace the love that has always been between you.

As you snuggle closer to Aaron, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The turmoil of the past weeks fades away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and love.

“I’m never letting you go again,” Aaron whispers, his breath warm against your ear, and you know that he means it. And you know that you never want to let him go either.

With a smile on your face, and your heart full of love and hope, you drift off to sleep in the arms of the man you love, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together.

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