#like that’s the text i have wanted all of his other texts to be for 1.75 years

[quicksilversnails]

It's so fun how the Princess and the Dragon acknowledges and plays with game mechanics that are assumed to be non-diegetic, and uses them to add insight to the story/characters.

The title card is a really obvious example, being something that TLQ actually sees and can comment on, and something that the Princess hadn't ever seen. What most would assume is just a framing device for the player is a real element of the world/construct.

I think it emphasizes how the story that the Narrator constructed is only "meant" to be told to TLQ. After all, The Narrator only appears in TLQ's mind, providing elaborate descriptions and attempting to contextualize the events of the game as a heroic task to save the world. Meanwhile the Princess is all alone, with no title cards or exposition, no context for why any of this is happening to her. The story revolves around her, but it doesn't care about her beyond her designated role, as something to be slain and hated. Her perspective is irrelevant to the Narrator's plan, so she doesn't get the fancy presentation or necessary context: she doesn't deserve it.

There's also those long stretches of dialogue where the voices talk to each other in TLQ's mind without progressing the story. They're occasionally acknowledged by the Princess elsewhere (Prisoner, Nightmare) but P&tD makes it very explicit and confirms that time is actively passing during these conversations, with TLQ staring in silence for who knows how long.

(Personally I don't think all of the voice dialogue is necessarily in real time, if only because some Princesses wouldn't have had the patience for it. Like if you had really stood still for that long, the Beast would've definitely eaten you... she's not waiting for you to finish thinking lol)

This one I think is more for humour, but it also draws attention to how much of the inner conversation the Princess is missing in normal chapters, when the voices aren't actively speaking to her through TLQ's body. Where we're having vibrant debates or key information revealed by the Narrator, she just sees a silent, staring figure. Speaking of the Narrator, He's completely absent from the Princess' POV, either because He doesn't want to speak to her or is somehow unable to (He does say in Tower that she's not supposed to be able to interact with Him...) Again, the story was not made to be told to her, so she isn't given His context, and because the player is usually so immersed in TLQ's perspective, they probably wouldn't realize just how much she's missing until they see things from her perspective.

One other example: if you choose to [Say nothing] immediately after you excise yourself, the Princess reacts to it:

I just find this so hilarious tbh, and the fact that she repeats back those exact words implies that she literally senses the text written in brackets. If you do it once you're back in the basement, she says this:

I wonder if it's the same for the Narrator/voices... do they also “feel” your actions while you’re choosing them? Do they hear you say (Lie) before you lie? When Skeptic said "Wink" out loud did he actually choose a dialogue option with [Wink] in brackets?? Ok that last one's a joke but there's lots of potential here

I just think it's cool because the average player wouldn't think twice about any of these things, because they seem like simple stylistic/game design choices. In a game where all player input is through dialogue options, the square brackets are an immediately understandable way to convey action, as opposed to plain text. In a game structured around repeating loops, it makes sense to make those loops distinguishable for players by separating each loop with a title card, and the chapter naming convention works as a nod to the fairytale storybook aesthetics the game draws from.

But by placing you into the Princess's head and acknowledging those design choices as diegetic elements that change depending on your perspective, it forces you to reevaluate your experiences: the things you didn't think were really "part of the game" and the experiences you didn't realize weren't universal. It exposes your hidden privileges, the luxuries and structural supports you have compared to the Princess that you don't even notice because you've never experienced the alternative.

It might make you realize how the way you perceive and conceptualize the world might be very different from how others conceptualize it (Tony's recent ask about the multicoloured glass in HEA could also play into this in a fascinating way, with the mismatch in perception between TLQ and the Narrator's script). It's all just very cool for a game that's based on perception.

It also makes me wonder... what other elements of this game are diegetic that we just haven't paid attention to?

Well, I think that the captions are probably also diegetic. TLQ occasionally refers to the voices by their complete titles despite them not ever referring to each other by those titles, instead opting for descriptors like "jumpy one" or "the worst one" or "rage boy" or "chilly little freak" lol. For a direct comparison, Paranoid exclusively calls Smitten "the lovesick one" or some variant in HEA, but TLQ refers to him by his full name using quotation marks, as if he's quoting something he's read:

The voices don't seem aware that these titles exist, while TLQ does, despite them sharing a mind. Also, when the Princess shares a body/mind with you, she never uses their titles either. In the Spectre/Princess and the Dragon, she calls Hero "the nice one", Cold "the quiet one" or "cold little freak", and the Narrator "the bossy one" or "that murder-happy know-it-all". Spectre describes the voices as shards of broken glass on the floor, so she likely perceives them completely differently to how we/TLQ see them.

Even The Narrator isn't aware of His title. If you call Him that in the mirror conversation, He says "'The Narrator'. I suppose that's my job, isn't it?", reacting to the title as if it's His first time hearing about it. There's also this question from the fourth Shifty encounter:

It seems like the titles are presented specifically for The Long Quiet/decider, and that they somehow reflect how TLQ perceives the voices/Narrator, since TLQ takes credit for "calling him" that. If the captions were specifically shown to TLQ in the same way that the title cards are, it'd explain how he has this information without it ever being verbally told to him, and why the Princess doesn't know their titles even when she's sharing your body.

But besides the captions, I think it could be fun to interpret the game as if most, if not all of its game mechanics exist in-universe. The choice menu, the music, the cursors, the save/load icons, saving/loading in general, the title screen, the Clown Princess living in the walls (game files), you name it. Let’s peel away these game mechanics cell by cell! Let's see what meaning we can find together, let's see what we're made of!

[angelltheninth]

Friends with Benefits with Love and Deepspace Men

Pairing: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, creampie, friends with benefits, protectiveness, love confession, fingering, realization of feelings, denaial of feelings, mating press, desk sex, jealusy, flirting, referanced cunnilingus

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I would legit want to be their friends. The benefit is heaing me yap about how pretty they all are and whatever my newest hyperfixation is.

FwB!Zayne always tries to keep things strictly professional beween the two of you. There's him when he is your friend and collegue and him when he's making love to you on the surface of his desk. It's easy for him to cross between the lines, one moment he's giving you advice or talking about problem he has and the next he has his hand down your underwear and the other over your mouth, keeping you quiet. He's actually very good at going between the two modes and will never cross a line without your permission. Any feelings he might develop he will only show when he's being your lover, not when he's your friend.

FwB!Rafayel hides behind the flirting he does to make you belive he;s not as serious as he is. There will always be a time for him to be your friend and listen to any problems you make have, go on movie dates with you, take you shopping and order your favorite food when you're sad. And then there is the time when he offers to take your mind off what ever is bothering you by holding you close while you ride his cock and breathe heavily against his neck. Ocassionaly you have said you loved each other, and both of you know it's true, but you want to take a bit more before your relationshp takes that next step.

FwB!Xavier gets too into his own head about the whole deal becuase how is supposed to act that he wasn't balls deep in you the night before when you walk funny in front of him. Downright impossible for him to ignore the signs you give him. And he really does try his best but he doesn't want to make it seem like he only wants you for sex so he ends up texting you a lot while you're apart. Which only confuses things more. Truly he wishes there was an easy way for him to deal with this. Perhaps the best thing is for him to confess that he wants to be your boyfriend, not just the guy who makes you come and then never talks about it again until the next time.

FwB!Sylus teases you so much that you have no idea when he wants to be your friend and when he wants to fuck. There have been times where he deliberately made you think one thing only to do the other. Mindgames like these are fun for him, and watching you get all out of sorts because of it is even better. For as many times as he's fucked you into the bed he was also the one to comfort you when you were full of doubts and wanted nothing in return. Part of him hates that you still see him as a friend after all of that but he also won't force you to see him as anything else. Besies it's only a matter of time before you do.

FwB!Caleb is too jealous to stay just friends after the very first night you spend togeteher. Stares at othe guys that flirt with you so much a few of them actually took off running in the opposite direction. He didn's spend the whole night eating you out until you could no longer scream his name just for some other guy to swoop in and take you home. Try as he might to hide his jealus side it's very much impossibe, his smile gets sour and tight every time you tell him a guy flirted with you. A man like him can only tolorate so much before he confesses to you while fucking you. Not even romantically, he growls it out while having you folded in half and just as he fills you up with cum.

[glitterquadricorn]

His name is Chuck - LN4

+summary: what do you get a man that can literally get anything he wants at a moment's notice? why a puppy of course! +pairing: Lando Norris x Reader +warnings: mentions a pregnancy scare, mentions cheating (no cheating happens), semi-edited. a/n: this was supposed to be out months ago... oops. I do not give my permission to have my work reposted. I do not give my permission to have my work translated. If I'm notified that you've stolen my work or claim it as your own, you'll be asked to take it down before I'll report you. End of discussion.

What do you get someone that can afford to get anything their heart desires? It seemed like nothing that came to mind was good enough. She could get him the same thing she did the first year they were together for his birthday, which was a brand new, muted orange, lace lingerie set. But repeat birthday gifts were tacky in her opinion. And it's not like she couldn't get him another one of those boudoir books because the last time she did, it led to a pregnancy scare.

Whenever his birthday did come around, they'd most likely wouldn't even be in Monaco, much less in England. It's sometimes hard to plan things around his racing schedule but she wouldn't have it any other way.

"What are you watching?"

Jumping, placing a hand over her chest, "Jesus Christ, Lando! What is wrong with you!"

Lando laughed as he walked around the couch and sat next to her, noticing she was watching the most recent video Mclaren posted of him playing with puppies. Y/n saw the corners of Lando's mouth turn upwards into a smile. It was at this moment she knew what she was going to get Lando for his birthday. Only problem was where she was going to get it and where she was going to keep it until his birthday.

"I had a lot of fun playing with those puppies," he paused. "It makes me wish we weren't so busy traveling to and from countries for races, you know?"

"I can rearrange and clear some things from my schedule so I could be with the dog at all times."

"There's no need to do that, love."

Y/n saw a flash of sadness in Lando's eyes before he rested his head on her shoulder. Despite him saying she didn't need to move things around; she wanted to because that's what you do when you love someone. So, when Lando went off to go stream with Max, she texted Alex.

y/n -> albonooo

how much do you love me?

albonooo -> y/n

what did you do?

y/n -> albonooo

it's not about what I did, but what I'm about to do.

I need a huge favor.

albonooo -> y/n

I feel like I'm about to regret hearing you out but carry on.

y/n -> albonooo

Lando's birthday is coming up and everyone knows that Lando is a hard man to shop for. Mclaren recently did a video playing with puppies and I wanted to get him a puppy for his birthday.

albonooo -> y/n

okay, so what does this have to do with me?

y/n -> albonooo

I'm glad you asked!

When I get the puppy, I need somewhere to put them until his actual birthday.

albonooo -> y/n

Why me though?

y/n -> albonooo

if you and Lily got another animal no one would question it. In case you forgot, you guys practically have a zoo.

albonooo -> y/n

fair.

Now that she had a place to put the puppy once she got it, the next step was to talk to someone over at Battersea. The first phone call she made, no one answered. No one answering wasn't that big of a deal since they were probably busy, and she'd just call back later. When she called back hours later, the woman she spoke to was less than helpful. In fact, she wasn't really directing her in the direction she wanted to go, and the frustration was growing by the minute. Her fingers rubbed her temple, wondering if getting Lando a puppy for his birthday was a good idea.

And the search for a puppy didn't get any better as the weeks went by. Every time she thought she had found the perfect puppy, something would happen, and she'd be back at square one. But just as she was ready to give up and throw the towel in, she had gotten a call from her aunt saying a friend of hers' dog had puppies five weeks ago and could come and pick one out.

There's just one issue.

This person was in England and she's in Monaco.

When she told Lando she wasn't able to attend the Brazilian GP because of a business meeting back in England, he had reassured her it was fine, but she could tell from his eyes he was a little upset. Seeing that look in his eyes made her feel guilty for lying to him since she's never lied to him about anything in their relationship. She had to remind herself that it's a gift for this birthday and it'll be one that he'll never forget.

Arriving in England, the drive to her aunt's friend's house was long since they lived pretty far out, but she didn't mind as she watched the landscape change from the bustling city where houses were stacked on top of each other to the wide-open meadows of the quiet English countryside.

Soon, the uber was turning onto the long rocky driveway leading up to a large stone home covered ivy. Standing outside was a man who she assumed to be her aunt's friend.

The man held his hand out for her to shake. "You must be y/n! My name is Richard."

"That's me," she smiled. Richard led them in the house and into the sunroom where the sound of puppies playing warmed her heart. "Oh, my goodness! They're all so cute!"

Richard stood off to the side, "If have you any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

"What breed of dog are they?" she asked, sitting down on the floor. The puppies surrounded her until she threw a ball, but there was one that didn't move from her side.

"Jack Russell Terrier." Richard smiled when the one dog that didn't move from her side crawled into her lap and fell asleep. "Seems like you've been chosen."

"Seems like it."

A warm fuzzy feeling washed over her body as she gently scratched behind the sleeping puppy. In her heart she just knew this was the dog for Lando. Pulling an orange collar from her pocket, she fastened it around his neck, making sure it wasn't too tight.

"You got a name picked out?" Richard said, pushing off the door frame, gesturing to her to follow him.

"No. I'll let my boyfriend pick a name since it's going to be his birthday present."

"A puppy is quite the birthday gift."

"Yeah, but when Lando did that video with those puppies, I could see that look of longing for a puppy, but with our schedules it was not practical for us to get a puppy. Now that things have settled a bit, I want to get him the puppy I know he wants."

Richard reached into a drawer and handed her a manila envelope. "Everything you need is in there."

"Thanks again for this. I was beginning to think I wasn't going to find a puppy in time."

"It's not a problem, y/n." Richard came from around the desk, "Let me walk you out."

The two quietly talked about how the season was going as they walked to the front of the house, but the feeling of anxiety was there. And that anxiety feeling was still there when she knocked on the door of Alex's apartment to drop the puppy and supplies off.

"Alex, please tell me I'm not crazy for getting Lando a puppy for his birthday."

Alex, who gently scratched behind the puppy's ear, "Oh! You're for sure crazy-"

From further in the apartment, Lily shouted, "Ignore him, y/n. I think it's cute you got Lando a dog for his birthday."

Alex watched as the woman shifted her weight from left to right, mumbling under her breath and waving her arms around frantically. "Y/n, listen. Lando has been wanting a puppy for the longest time, so this is a good gift."

"You think so?"

"Yes! Now head home before he finds out you've been here."

The reassurance from Alex made the anxiety she was feeling fall off her shoulders. And as she walked down the hall towards the elevator, she crossed her fingers' hoping Alex was right because at this point, there was no going back.

One of the hardest things she's ever done was keep this big of a secret from Lando. There were a few times were she nearly slipped but thankfully caught herself. But Lando clocked her nervousness and made a mental note of her odd behavior. It wasn't like y/n to act this way, so did something happen? Did she cheat and was hiding it from him?

As it got closer to his birthday, she got more fidgety, which again was not like her. Y/n wouldn't cheat on him, would she? No. She wouldn't. He knows her better than herself. Maybe it was something else, and his mind was just making things up.

Lando woke the morning of his birthday and instinctively reached over to the other side of the bed and noticed you weren't there. Instead, was a note.

If you wake up and I'm not there, I only went to pick up your birthday present from Alex. This is around the time you say, 'she didn't have to get me anything,' but I did. I wanted to. I'll be home shortly.

Love, y/n.

He laid there wondering what y/n got him that she had to go pick up from Alex. It had to have been something big that she couldn't have just kept at their place. But then again, if she did keep it at their place, he probably would've found it and ruined the surprise.

"Listen, when I left this morning daddy was still sleeping, so we got to be quiet."

daddy? what?

The door to their shared bedroom slowly opened and the head of his girlfriend peaked from around the corner to check to see if he was still sleeping and when he wasn't, the door quickly closed.

Lando tossed the covers back, walking over to the door. There stood y/n, but his eyes instantly went to the puppy in her arms. "Uh... who's dog is that?"

"You weren't supposed to be awake, but he's yours."

"Mine? What do you mean?"

"Remember when I said I had a business meeting back in England and couldn't go to the Brazilian gp? I did go back to England, but it wasn't for a business meeting. It was to go get this little fella."

"You got me a dog for my birthday?"

"Yeah," she nodded her head, handing the puppy over to Lando. "I could tell you wanted one when you did that video with puppies at MTC, so I went above and beyond to get you a puppy."

"Does he have a name?"

"I've been calling him Chuck because an actor from a tv show I watched as a kid and their name was Chuck Norris."

"Chuck. His name is Chuck."

---

tagging:

@patzammit @mrspeacem1nusone @alexxavicry @catswag22 @eugene-emt-roe @bibissparkles @cherry-piee @khaylin27 @evie-119 @green-thots @2pagenumb @myescapefromthislife @ironmaiden1313 @lottalove4evelyn @mynameisangeloflife @newlifeforus @jxnellat @loloekie @c-losur3 @czennieszn @d3kstar @reiofsuns2001 @sweate-r-weathe-r @itsjustkhaos @hiireadstuff

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWELVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of severe anemia; pregnancy; abortion

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe rolled over, squinting against the sunlight breaking through the shitty broken blinds he'd meant to replace weeks ago. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and before his eyes were even fully open, he swiped it up.

"Yeah?" His voice was a low growl, all gravel, and irritation.

The voice on the other end was professional. "Mr. Cameron? We’re calling to follow up on your father’s properties. There are a few—"

Fuck off.

Rafe cut them off with a sharp exhale, rubbing his temples.

He didn’t let them finish. "Yeah, I know what you’re calling about. I’m not dealing with that right now, okay? Call someone else."

"Sir, you are listed as—"

"I said call someone else," He snapped, hanging up before they could launch into another scripted response. He tossed the phone onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling, breathing hard.

It had been months since Ward died, and somehow, his name was heavier now than it ever was when he was alive. Everyone wanted something—answers, signatures, money. All things Rafe didn’t have or didn’t care to deal with.

The phone buzzed again. He grabbed it, ready to tell whoever it was where to stick their questions, but it was just a reminder about his plans with Topper. For half a second, he considered texting back: Can’t make it. Something came up.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he shoved himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and dropping his head into his hands.

The dream the call robbed him of was still vivid. For a moment, he forgot where he was—his room felt colder, and emptier, and the bed might as well have been a mile wide.

In the dream, you were eighteen again, and so was he. Back when things were simpler—or maybe just felt that way. Back before he’d ruined everything.

He could see it so clearly: the two of you sneaking out of some party you didn’t want to be at, your hand locked in his as you ducked through the dark streets. You’d been laughing, trying to shush him because he couldn’t stop cracking dumb jokes.

You ended up at the dock by your uncle’s boat. The stars were out, scattered across the sky like a million little promises. He remembered how you’d sat cross-legged on the wooden planks, your hair falling into your face as you smiled at him like he was the only person in the world.

The dock, your laugh, the stars—those were the good parts. But he remembers what you were going through back then, and it hit him all over again.

You’d just lost everything—your parents, your sister, gone in an instant. The private plane went down, and so did the life you’d always known. He remembers the way you’d talk about them—your family—late at night when it was just the two of you. Your voice would crack, and your eyes would shine with unshed tears, but you��d talk anyway. About your dad teaching you how to sail, your mom’s tenderness, the way your sister used to be your role model.

He hadn’t thought about those nights in years, but now they come rushing back, all tangled up with the dream. He still wasn’t strong enough for you back then. He let his own shit get in the way, let his insecurities and his anger twist everything good between you over the years. And when he walked away, he left you to deal with the wreckage of your life and his own cowardice.

He threw on a shirt, and some old shorts, didn’t even bother fixing his hair. No one was going to care—not like anyone was looking to him for anything these days anyway. He stomped down the stairs, rubbing at the back of his neck, pretending like he didn’t spend the night dreaming of your face. 

Wheezie was at the kitchen counter, cereal in front of her, scrolling her phone.

She didn’t glance up when she heard him, "You look like shit."

Aw, nothing like a teenager. 

"Good mornin’ to you too," Rafe grumbled, heading for the fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap like it had personally offended him, “You’re really settling in, huh?"

Wheezie snorted, not looking up from her phone. "Rose stuck me here with you. What else am I supposed to do? I’m just trying to survive." 

“It’s two days."

He hadn’t exactly planned on babysitting Wheezie while Rose was out of the country, he hadn’t planned on much lately

"Two days too many," she shot back, smirking. "You going somewhere?" 

Rafe slammed the fridge shut, twisting the cap off his water.

"Why are you stomping around like that?" 

"Not fuckin’ stomping," Rafe muttered, leaning against the counter.

"You are," she scowled, shoving a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "You sound like a baby elephant."

Rafe glared at her, but she just shrugged, unfazed. "You’re up early. What’s the occasion?"

"Just woke up, okay?" he snapped.

"Jeez, someone’s in a mood," Wheezie rolled her eyes. "What’s your deal?"

"No deal." He took a long sip of water, staring out the window.

"Can you drop me off later?" she changed the topic, her tone too casual to be innocent.

Rafe side-eyed her. "Drop you off where?"

"Poguelandia.”

His hand froze halfway to the trash can. "You’re kiddin’."

"Nope," Wheezie said, popping the “p.” She didn’t even look at him, scrolling on her phone like this was just a normal request.

"You know Sarah’s there, right?"

"Yeah, that’s kinda the point," Wheezie finally met his glare. "She texted me. Wants to hang out."

Rafe scoffed, tossing the empty water bottle into the trash. "Since when are you and Sarah talkin’?"

"Since forever," Wheezie pursed her lips, "Just because you two can’t stand each other doesn’t mean I can’t hang out with her. Also," She adds, "there’s a party happening later. Like, nothing crazy, but… y’know."

He hadn’t been around much for his little sister lately—shit, not for a long time, if he was honest with himself. After their dad died, he kind of just… checked out. Too much of his own crap to deal with. But Wheezie didn’t ask for any of that.

"Nothing crazy," Rafe repeated flatly, his arms crossed.

"Relaxxxx,” She shoved another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "Just drop me off. I’ll figure out a ride back."

He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. "Wheeze, do you even know what you’re walking into? Pogues don’t fuck with us."

"I wonder why….” She hummed, waving him off. “I’ll be fine, they don’t hate me."

"Yeah, well, they hate me."

"Good thing I’m not you.” Wheezie fired back, hopping off the stool.

Yeah, good thing.

"And it’s not just a party. I’m visiting Sarah, too."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Rafe rolled his eyes, "Here’s the deal: I’ll drop you off—"

She perked up, her face lighting with hope.

"—but on one condition," he cut in, smirking just enough to make her suspicious.

He hadn’t really spent time with her in ages—not since Ward died. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was just…easier not to. Easier to stay away, to let the silence pile up.

The real issue was that, for the longest time, he’s been gone for a reason. He didn’t want to be here. It was easier to be numb by being drunk or high. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his sister—it was just that it was too painful, and complicated.

Yesterday, his therapist had told him to invest time in his sisters. To be there for them, to reconnect, because they were his only real family left. Whezzie he could do, Sarah? 

Only time would tell. 

You have to show up for the people you love. Even if it scares you.

It scared the shit out of him, honestly.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"You come with me and Topper on the boat first," he said, folding his arms tighter like he’s already won.

Wheezie groaned, slumping back in her chair. "Seriously? What part of not showing up on a yatch is this?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Why? So I can sit there and listen to you two talk about girls you’ll never get and beer brands you can’t pronounce?"

Rafe glared at her. "It’s not up for debate. You wanna go to fuckass poguelandia? You’re comin’ with us. End of story."

At least he was trying—trying to do something for her, to make up for the time he’d lost, the ways he’d been absent or worse. Even if he still sounded like an asshole most of the time.

"Fine. Whatever. I’ll go with you and Topper. But you owe me big time.”

The whole idea of being present was terrifying, it ruined him when he was a teenager, but he couldn’t keep hiding from it. There was nothing left to hide behind.

“I’ll buy that stupid cereal you like.”

"Lucky me."

"Alright, smartass," He grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee, trying to ignore her smug look. "What do you even eat besides cereal? You’re gonna starve or some shit.”

"I’ll survive. You, on the other hand…" she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his unkempt pantry. "You look like you could use a babysitter."

Rafe let the corners of his mouth twitch. "You’re an asshole, y'know that?"

“You’re my brother, what did you expect?”

It was just the two of them in his big, empty condo. He might not have been much of a role model—or even a decent older brother—but for the next two days, he could try.

“You’re the worst,” she grumbled, grabbing her phone off the counter.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Rafe said dismissively, turning toward the door. “Be ready in ten.”

Wheezie, rolling her eyes so hard he thought they might fall out of her head, stomped back upstairs, probably to change into something less “little sister on a boat” and more “teen rebel” or whatever the fuck kid’s liked these days. She could dress however she wanted as long as she didn’t make him regret dragging her into this.

Rafe leaned against the truck while he waited for his sister. His arms were crossed, his fingers drumming against his bicep in a nervous rhythm. It wasn’t about the boat—he didn’t even know why he’d suggested it. Maybe it was just an excuse to keep her close for a little longer before dropping her into pogue territory. He missed her.

An hour later, he was pulling the truck into the dock’s gravel lot, the tires crunching as he rolled to a stop. Topper was already there, lounging on the boat, a beer in one hand and sunglasses perched low on his nose.

Wheezie hopped out of the truck before Rafe even had a chance to cut the engine. “God, does he ever not look like a wannabe country club poster boy?”

Rafe smirked as he climbed out.

“Rafe! Wheezie!” Topper called out, spreading his arms wide like he was greeting royalty. “What’s up, losers?”

Wheezie snorted, marching toward the boat. “Nice shorts. Did Vineyard Vines have a clearance sale, or did you just raid your dad’s closet?”

“Stop being ruthless,” Topper glanced down at his pastel pink swim trunks, feigning offense. “These are a classic.”

“A classic embarrassment,” she fake gagged, stepping onto the boat.

Rafe followed her, shaking his head. “Play nice.”

“Fantastic,” Topper drawled, “There’s two of you today.”

“You make it too easy.” Whezzie dropped onto one of the cushioned seats and leaned back, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes. “What’s the plan, Captain Douchebag?”

Topper raised his beer in a mock toast. “The plan is sailing.”

“Wow. Revolutionary.”

Rafe chuckled, untying the boat and giving it a shove off the dock. “Just sit back and relax, Wheez. We’ll drop you off later.”

Topper’s head snaps up, “Drop her off where?”

"Where do you think?" Rafe leaned over to check the boat's engine. He didn't bother looking at Topper, already waiting for the inevitable reaction, “Sarah's.”

"Wait, wait, wait," Topper held up a hand like he was stopping traffic. "You're taking her to Poguelandia? Are you out of your mind?"

"It's not your problem," Rafe grumbled, starting the engine. The low hum drowned out part of Topper's rant, but not enough to miss the gist.

"Not my problem? Dude, the second you step foot over there, it's everyone's problem. She’s there too, y’know? Stopped by earlier to make peace…She changed her gate’s code. And the lock.”

The gate code. The lock.

He couldn’t get it out of his head.

For years, it had been the same—just like the keys he used to have to your place. Just days ago, the gate had swung open just like it always did, the same code he’d memorized like it was second nature.

You hadn’t changed the code, hadn’t swapped the locks. He’d half convinced himself it meant something, maybe you weren’t ready to fully let him go, either.

Rafe’s hands stilled on the throttle. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his jaw tightened all the same. Topper, of course, noticed immediately.

"See? This is what I’m talking about," Topper leaned back in his seat, spreading his arms like he was laying out some grand revelation. "Where do you think she’s staying at? It’s fuckin’ obvious. We show up, and it’s gonna stir shit up.”

It was almost like you’d left the door cracked open for him. Just enough to make him believe there was still a chance. Now he wasn’t so sure. Had his visit been the final straw? Had the sight of him standing on the other side of your door—looking desperate and pathetic—been the thing that made you decide to shut him out completely?

You didn’t let him in, but you’d opened up the door. After everything he’d put you through, it was your way of protecting yourself. Shutting the door so he couldn’t come crashing back in.

Topper’s voice snapped him back to reality, “You even listening to me, man?”

Rafe blinked, forcing himself to re-focus on the boat’s controls.

“Yeah. I heard you. ’m not staying. Just dropping her off."

“We’re dead meat.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Topper knew better than to keep talking, the conversation ended there.

For the next twenty minutes, the boat cruised over the water, Rafe kept on steering, letting Topper and Wheezie chatter away behind him. He wasn't really listening—hadn't been for most of the trip—but every now and then, Wheezie's laughter or Topper's exaggerated storytelling pulled him back just enough to remind him they were still there.

When they finally dropped anchor near the sandbar, Topper leaned back, cracking open another beer as he stretched out under the sun.

"Alrigh’, who wants to make a toast? First outing of the month, gotta celebrate properly!"

Rafe shook his head, pulling a bottle of water from the cooler instead. He twisted off the cap and took a long sip, ignoring the way Topper raised a brow at him.

"Wait a second," Topper said, sitting up slightly. "You're not drinking?"

The fact his best friend sounded surprised was reason enough to stay sober. He didn’t like being scrutinized.

"Nah," He waived off, leaning back against the seat and letting the sun warm his face.

He’d made the choice not to drink before they even left the dock, but it didn’t stop the instinct—the small urge to crack open a beer and let the eventual numbness take over like it usually did.

Topper looked between the beer in his hand and Rafe, "You serious? Could've told me, wouldn’t have brought all this shit."

“Yeah, sure you wouldn’t have.”

"Fair," Topper admitted, "Still, man. That's… good. Like, really good."

Wheezie, who had been scrolling on her phone, perked up at the exchange. "Yeah, Rafe. I think it's awesome."

Proud. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said that to him. Maybe you, but it had been a long time since anyone had looked at him and seen something worth being proud of.

He shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.”

But it kind of was. Because sitting there, sober and fully present for the first time in months, he realized it didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would. He’d been drinking non-stop—first to deal with his dad’s death, then to quiet the guilt, and then to forget you.

The therapist had called it “self-medicating.” Rafe had scoffed when she first said it, she didn’t know what she was talking about, but the longer the sessions went on, the harder it was to deny. Drinking had become a way to drown out the memories and feelings he didn’t know how to face. 

The therapist had suggested he take a break from drinking, just for a while. “You don’t have to stop forever,” she’d said. “Just give yourself a chance to feel what’s really going on.”

Yeah, because that sounded like fucking fun. Sitting with his feelings. 

But something about today felt different. He couldn’t explain it—maybe it was Wheezie’s not hating spending time with him after all the stunts he pulled, or the way Topper had thrown himself into planning this trip like he was trying to cheer him up—but for once, he didn’t feel like drowning himself in alcohol.

It wasn’t like drinking had helped anyway, if anything, it made it worse. The mornings after, when the hangover hit and he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror, let alone call you to apologize for everything he’d done wrong. 

So, yeah. Maybe the therapist had a point. 

He glanced at the cooler full of beers and liquor that Topper had dragged aboard. “Don’t feel like it today.”

Topper was still eyeing him like he was an alien, while Wheezie had gone back to scrolling her phone, but every now and then, she'd glance up at him, like she was checking to see if he was still there—if he was still him.

"Alright, enough of the sentimental shit," Topper declared, "Let’s make this a proper day. Who’s up for some wakeboarding?"

Wheezie groaned, flopping back dramatically. "You two are so predictable. Wakeboarding, really? What’s next, golf? A steak dinner? Gonna break out the cigars and talk about how much you cripto?"

Rafe snorted, tossing a towel at her. "Wheez, you screamed your head off last time you tried it."

“Yeah, because I nearly died!" she threw the towel right back at him.

"You were fine.”

“You said I was fine while I was choking on lake water.”

Rafe smirked, standing up to adjust the rope for the wakeboard. “Builds character.”

“Builds trauma,” she retorted, kicking her flip-flops off and stretching her legs out over the seat. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when I’m suing your ass.”

“Good luck with that.”

She tilted her chin up with a satisfied grin, “I can now, thank you very much. I’m an adult.”

“You turned eighteen two weeks ago. Chill with the big-girl talk.”

Topper cracked up from the other side of the boat, pointing his beer at her like it was a microphone. “She’s got you there, big bro. Maybe let her drive the boat next.”

Wheezie perked up instantly. “Wait, can I?”

“No,” Rafe deadpanned.

“Why not?” she whined, her entire body deflating.

“Because last time you tried, you almost ran over a dock,” Rafe tugged the line to make sure it was secure.

“Okay, that was one time, and I was learning,” Wheezie argued. “You’ve done way dumber stuff.”

Topper leaned over, watching the exchange like it was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all week. “This is amazing. You guys should fight more often.”

“Shut up,” Rafe and Wheezie said in unison, which only made Topper laugh harder.

The afternoon passed quickly, filled with sun, water, and Wheezie’s relentless commentary. She refused to try wakeboarding again, opting instead to sunbathe and heckle them from the safety of the boat. Rafe couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh so much—or the last time he’d felt this calm.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the water in shades of gold, Rafe slowed the boat to a gentle drift. Wheezie was sprawled out with her headphones in, her phone propped up on her stomach. Topper had passed out in the corner, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. Rafe sat at the helm, one hand resting on the wheel, the other dangling over the side. The cool water lapped at his fingertips, calming him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

For once, he wasn’t thinking about the mistakes he’d made or the people he’d lost. He wasn’t drowning in guilt or regret. He was just… there, present. It didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would

Rafe cut the engine as the boat drifted closer to the dock. The sight of Sarah’s house on the Cut came into view. It wasn’t a kook mansion or some pristine estate—just a house that Sarah and her friends had claimed for herself.

The second the boat bumped against the dock, Wheezie sprang up, tugging her bag over her shoulder. Rafe was quick to follow, throwing the rope around a cleat to tie them off.

“You’re not getting off, are you?” Wheezie asked, looking over her shoulder with her brows furrowed.

Rafe stepped off the boat, sneakers hitting the creaky dock with a purpose. She rolled her eyes when she realized he wasn’t staying behind like she hoped.

“You don’t need to come,” she grumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Yeah, I do,” Rafe said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not letting you walk in there alone.”

“She’s our sister, not some random stranger,” Wheezie stomped down the dock.

She might as well have been.

Rafe grabbed the bag she was struggling with and followed her toward the weathered building at the end of the pier. Sarah’s place wasn’t just a house; it was a business. A small café-slash-bait shop that catered to the locals. The painted sign hanging over the front door read Cut Cafe in faded lettering, with a little drawing of a fish under it. 

He hated it.

Not because it wasn’t nice, but because it wasn’t theirs. It was Sarah’s—a piece of her new life that had nothing to do with him or Wheezie or anything resembling their family. Another reminder of how far he hadn’t gone.

If he was being honest—something he rarely let himself do—he missed her. Not the Sarah she was now, but the sister she used to be, before the huge fights, before she looked at him like he was some kind of monster. Before Ward.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Ward had made sure Rafe would never get to have what Sarah did. She was the golden child, Dad’s favorite. And Rafe—he was just there, a constant disappointment.

It wasn’t that he hated her; it was that he hated what she represented.

Approval he’d never get, a life he wasn’t good enough for.

It was ironic, really. He used to resent Sarah for being Ward’s favorite.

Now he resented her for being yours.

Rafe scowled as the sound of the party reached his ears, even from the dock. Music thumped loud enough to vibrate the air, shouted conversations, and the occasional crash of something—probably a bottle—shattering.

Someone let out a loud whoop, followed by the unmistakable sound of people chanting for a keg stand. Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience thinning with every passing second. He wasn’t in the mood for this juvenile shit.

“You're way too comfortable here,” he scoffed under his breath as Wheezie marched ahead, her steps confident. It pissed him off more than it should have.

“Maybe because Sarah doesn’t treat me like I’m still twelve,” Wheezie shot back, smirking at him over her shoulder.

Rafe ignored the jab, his eyes scanning the small crowd outside.

A couple of Pogues lingered near the porch, laughing over beers and baskets of fries. Their relaxed, judgmental stares followed him like they could smell the kook entitlement on him from a mile away. He bristled, tightening his grip on Wheezie’s bag.

She bounded up the steps and pushed open the door, the bell above it jingling. He hesitated for half a second before following her inside, knowing he was going to regret ever stepping foot in this place.

The air smelled like beer, fried food, and sunscreen. Behind the counter, Sarah stood with her back to them, her hair tied up in a loose bun.

Wheezie cleared her throat loudly. “Hey, Sar!”

Sarah turned, her smile faltering the second she saw Rafe lurking behind Wheezie. Her expression hardened. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Rafe said dryly, crossing his arms.

“I told Wheezie to come by. Not you.” Sarah’s eyes flicked to Wheezie, softening just slightly. “You didn’t need to bring a bodyguard.”

“I wasn’t gonna let her wander around here by herself,” Rafe shot back, his voice low and defensive. He hated the way Sarah’s words hurt, hated that her disapproval still got under his skin after all this time.

Sarah rolled her eyes, wiping her hands on her apron as she stepped out from behind the counter. “Wander? She’s not a toddler. She knows how to get here. It’s safe.”

Wheezie stood between them, looking like she was torn between laughing and rolling her eyes so hard she might fall over. “Okay, can you two stop? It’s embarrassing.”

Sarah sighed, brushing past Rafe as if he wasn’t even there.

“Whatever. You can go now. Wheezie’s fine here.”

He stood awkwardly near the door, arms crossed, glaring at the locals who cast curious glances his way. It wasn’t worth staying.

Wheezie was safe.

Sarah would make sure of that, whether she hated him or not.

With a sigh, hr pushed open the door and stepped back out onto the porch, letting the door slam behind him. He took a deep breath of salty air, rubbing the back of his neck.

He’d barely made it to the dock when he spotted someone climbing off the boat—

“Dude,” Rafe’s brow furrowed as his friend stepped onto the creaking wood. “Thought you were scared shitless of this place.”

“I’m not scared,” Topper lied through his teeth.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, “Right.”

“We ran out of snacks on the boat, and I’m starving, figured I’d raid the stash at the party.”

“Snacks?”

“I’m starving!” Topper argued, throwing his hands up. “And unless you brought a secret bag of chips somewhere, this is my best shot!”

He sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do to change Topper's mind. “Hurry up.”

“Relax, I’ll be two minutes!"

He watched Topper jog away, sighing and leaning against one of the wooden posts. 

You were probably in there, somewhere. Laughing, maybe, or smiling that smile he used to wake up to, a smile that used to be for him.

Now, it was for everyone but him.

He tried not to think about you, but that was like telling the ocean not to rise and fall with the stupid tides. Therapy had taught him to sit with his feelings, to not let them rot into something worse, but he was just starting and you weren’t just the girl he loved.

You were the only person who had ever seen him for more than his name, his mistakes, or the wreckage Ward Cameron had left in his wake. You didn’t just tolerate him; you chose him, since day one.

He didn’t deserve you, not then, not even now. 

The sound of footsteps broke his focus.

“About time,” Rafe muttered, turning. But it wasn’t Topper.

Sofia stumbled into view, her dark hair wild and face flushed. Her hand gripped the railing for support as she swayed slightly.

He frowned, mildly concerned, “What the f—are you okay?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and frantic. “Y-You need to go get Topper. Right n-now.”

His first thought was that she might’ve come here to throw some drunken, slurred insults his way.

The last time they'd spoken, things had ended...He didn’t even know how to classify that mess. But it didn't look like she was there to slam him with any guilt-trips or hurtful words.

She just looked scared.

“What?” His brows knit together as he stepped toward her, “What are you talking about? Are you drunk?”

Sofia waved him off, her breathing panicked. “The T-thorntons.”

That stopped him cold.

“What about them?”

She tried to grab his arm, her eyes wide, “They’re fighting. It’s bad.”

“Fighting?”

It couldn't be just some random fight; this had everything to do with the bullshit Topper had pulled.

Shit.

Rafe wasn’t even sure if he could fix it. Could he? You hated him too, and no matter how hard he tried, it seemed like you’d never forgive him for everything he’d fucked up. But Topper—Rafe didn’t even have to think twice.

He knew you, how you were when you’d had enough. You weren’t the type to lose your shit unless it was really��bad.

He gritted his teeth, knowing full well that when you finally let it out, it was never just a “throw a drink and move on��� kind of thing. Nah, when you lost it, it was like you’d been holding all this shit in for way too long and finally decided you weren’t gonna take it anymore.

He knew exactly what you were pissed about.

Topper. Of course. And him. Fuck.

He hated it.

The way your voice would rise when you finally let everything out.

You weren’t someone who yelled, but when you did? Jesus fucking Christ, it hit different. Rafe could never prepare himself fully for that kind of fury, especially when it was aimed at him. 

He hated seeing you like this, especially when he knew it was because of him. But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

Rafe’s thoughts were a mess as he followed Sofia, who was clearly way over tipsy, stumbling a little, but she was still trying to explain, voice slurring a bit from the alcohol.

“You gotta understand—she was helping me. I wasn’t feeling so great, right? M-my head was spinning, I don’t know… I just needed a little space. But then Topper walked in and he...S-she just lost it.”

He wasn’t even surprised when she mentioned that you’d been helping her out. Of course you would.

You always had that side to you. Even when you were pissed, even when you hated people, you couldn’t help but step in when someone was in need. You hated Sofia, and everyone knew it. You hated the fact that she’d come around right after he’d fucked everything up with you. You hated how fast she seemed to take your place, even though Rafe didn’t want to admit it to himself either.

Still, there you were, trying to make sure Sofia was okay, again. It made him feel like shit. Not just because you were still holding it together when he couldn’t, but because he knew the whole fucking reason you probably didn’t want anything to do with Sofia—because of how it’d felt when he’d jumped into something else so quickly, so recklessly, after breaking your heart.

The sound of raised voices reached him before he even saw you. He could hear the anger in your voice. There was no mistaking it: you were pissed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen you this way, and it fucked with his gut. You didn’t lose control easily. You never let anyone see the mess, the shit you were going through.

Now you were ripping into Topper in a way that made his blood run cold. He rounded the corner and saw you, hands flailing, and he couldn’t help but wonder: When was the last time anyone stepped up for you? It certainly hadn’t been him. Not the way he should’ve.

And then, of course, there was Topper. He could see the look on his face—guilt, embarrassment. But it wasn’t going to be enough. You had to work through it yourself.

Your shoulders were tense, the way you stood, like you could snap anyone who walked through that door in half if they so much as blinked the wrong way, was all too familiar.

Your cousin was standing in front of you, trying to apologize like it was gonna fix anything, but you weren’t hearing it. No, you were done with that shit.

Topper wipped his hands down his ruined shirt, green smears of guacamole spreading across the fabric. “I fucked up.”

“No shit,” you hissed, “You don’t get to come back from this. You have no idea how fucking sick I am of you—” Hands shaking as you shoved him back, your words coming out in short bursts, "You're the fucking worst. How could you—"

You were about to throw something—probably another drink—when your eyes snapped over to Rafe.

For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw your breath hitch. You froze, eyes wide for a second, and then your expression soured.

Your lip quivered before you sucked in a breath and squared your shoulders.

"Not you too,” you sneered, throwing your hands in the air as the world had just dropped another pile of shit on your already full plate. “Oh my fucking god, seriously?"

Your face was flushed with anger, lips twisted in a snarl. You were so fucking beautiful, even when you were fuming. He could see the fire in your eyes, that same spark he’d fallen for all those years ago. You were just... you. And it was killing him.

He was so fucked. 

“All of you—” You spit out, “I should’ve known better. I did know better, but I was stupid. So fucking stupid.”

He couldn’t think straight when you looked at him like that, when you had that look in your eyes. Even in the middle of a fight, it was so goddamn hard to look away.

You weren’t just a memory to him anymore. You were right in front of him, and he couldn’t even breathe straight.

Rafe’s throat tightened, feeling something that wasn’t just anger or regret or confusion. He felt longing. He longed to hear your voice, all the time, longed for those mornings when you’d be pressed against him, all warm, the world outside his shitty room irrelevant.

He missed the simple stuff.

He missed your face, the way you’d look at him with that irritation and affection.

It hit him harder than anything had in months—how much time had passed since he last saw that pretty face smile at him like you used to. Since he last kissed your forehead while you fell asleep next to him, since you last fit so perfectly into his arms that he didn’t want to let go.

He didn’t even know how to start getting that back.

He left. Over and over again.

Rafe registered another drink splashing across Topper’s face a little too late, the sound of the liquid hitting his skin pulling him out of his trance. He blinked a few times, the moment dragging back to the mess in front of him.

You weren’t done, though, as if throwing the drink wasn’t enough, you whipped a bowl of guacamole from the table and hurled it at Topper’s face. It splattered across his shirt, leaving a sticky, green mess in its wake.

He didn’t even flinch, still apologizing, still taking it.

“Sis—”

“I don’t want some bullshit excuse! You were supposed to be my family. You were supposed to—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head because you couldn’t fathom finishing the thought.

And then—slap, slap, slap—you were hitting his arms, frustration flashing across your face as you let him have it. 

Your cousin stood there like a fucking idiot, wiping guac off his face, trying to stammer out some kind of half-assed apology. 

“You had no right,” you spat, voice breaking on the words. “None. You don’t just walk in here and act like everything’s fine after what you—” your words choked in your throat. You threw another plate, “You had no right!”

Rafe saw it all, saw the tears ready to spill as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand. You weren’t crying yet, but he knew that was about to change. And when it did, it was going to hurt worse than the yelling, worse than the throwing.

Before you could even get another word out, Rafe was there, stepping in between you and Topper, his body tense, preparing himself for something, maybe a few slaps across the face, a drink if you felt generous. You didn’t have to say a word, he could sense it in the way your lips quivered, the way your shoulders shook.

“You need to calm down,” He told you tenderly, though it wasn’t a demand—it was more of a desperate plea.

You didn’t listen.

Instead, you shoved him out of the way, the tears starting to slip down your cheeks, but you didn’t even bother to wipe them away.

“Get out,” you snapped, "Move.”

Rafe didn’t budge, he was here for you, he never stopped fucking choosing you even when he had no right to. He remained still, staring down at you with those blue eyes that had always known you better than anyone.

“Fuck, not like this,” Rafe muttered under his breath, stepping forward once more, this time blocking your path before you could reach Topper again. His hands were gentle on your shoulders as he held you back, “Please, stop.”

You froze, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe it—you hadn’t been expecting him to step in, hadn’t been expecting him of all people to be the one to try and talk you out of it. 

Rafe’s heart dropped when he saw the way your body was starting to shake. You were spiraling, he could see it coming—he'd been here before. The way your breath hitched, how your eyes turned glassy.

He still knew the signs all too well.

His hands shot out instinctively, grabbing your arms, trying to hold you still, "Hey, hey, calm down," he muttered, his voice soothing, "You're gonna make yourself worse if you don’t stop."

He could feel the rapid pulse under your skin, the way your body tensed like a coiled spring, and he didn’t give a fuck that you still hated him. 

"Look at me," he coaxed, "Please, just breathe with me. You know this ain't gonna help. You gotta breathe."

Rafe’s heart broke all over again as you crumbled in front of him, damn it, he should’ve been there. He should’ve been there when this all fell apart, when you needed someone to hold you together instead of pushing you away.

He hated seeing you like this.

"I’m right here," he said again, softer this time, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

Topper stood there, eyes wide, not sure what to do, his face pale as he watched you fall apart in front of Rafe.

Sofia, still drunk and disoriented, caught the look in his eyes and quietly grabbed his arm, “We need to go," she whispered, nudging him, "T-this isn’t helping her."

Topper’s eyes moved to you, and then to Rafe, you could see it in his expression—the guilt, the regret. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Rafe shot him a look, one that said everything—get out.

Your cousin, wiped his face before he took a few steps back. "I’m sorry," he muttered, eyes darting between you and Rafe.  "I’m so sorry.”

He turned away like a dog with his tail between his legs, Sofia following him without saying much, leaving you.

Rafe barely paid them any mind, his entire focus on you, his hands still holding yours, as he watched you try to calm your breathing.

He pulled you closer, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered again, "Not going anywhere. I’m here, swear to God, I’m here."

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him fully, not caring if he was blocking the view of anyone else, not caring if things were a fucking mess—he only cared about getting you back to yourself.

He could feel it in his chest, every shitty thing that had piled up, every moment no one had your back when you needed it most.

You didn’t pull away. Maybe it was the anger finally burning out or the exhaustion catching up to you, but for a moment, you let him hold you. Your chest heaved as you fought for control, but your weight sagged against his hands.

His hands loosened their grip, his thumb brushing against your arm without him even realizing it. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to risk letting go because God knew if he’d ever get this close to you again.

You’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve got you. 

He didn’t deserve it—not even a little, but he couldn’t let go, you needed someone, even if it wasn’t really him you wanted anymore. 

Rafe could sense the way your breathing came out as almost pants against his chest. Every little tremor sent a pang through his chest, like someone had grabbed his ribs and squeezed until it hurt to breathe.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he fought harder? 

Rafe rested his cheek against your hair, closing his eyes as he let himself feel it—the weight of you leaning on him. The smell of your perfume, faint but still the same as always. He felt like a fucking thief, stealing this moment from you when he had no right. You didn’t want this from him, didn’t need this from him.

He wished he could take it all back, erase every mistake, the fight, every stupid decision that had pushed you to this point. If he could trade places with you, take all the pain and carry it himself, he would. In a heartbeat. 

You took one shuddering breath, then another. It was enough for him to feel like maybe he’d done something right for once. Maybe he could—

“Get your hands off me.”

Rafe barely moved. His grip slackened, but he didn’t let go, didn’t step away like you wanted.

You pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I said get your fucking hands off me.”

“Not happenin’,” He swallowed hard, his pulse thrumming against his throat, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “You’re not okay.”

 “Go fuck yourself. You don’t get to decide that—”

Your voice cracked, and the sound of it nearly knocked the will to live from his body. He’d always known your tells, had always been able to read you better than you liked.

Rafe’s hands twitched, and then he moved them, moving like he was about to let you go—but then you did it.

You curled your arms around yourself, your fingers gripping the fabric of your dress, right over your stomach. Protective.

Fuck.

Could it be? It was an unconscious gesture, you probably didn’t realize you’d made, but to him, it might as well have been a fucking confession.

Rafe felt his body lock up, every muscle going rigid as the pieces fell into place. 

Fuck fuck fuck. Topper was right, wasn't he?

His throat went dry, he managed to croak out, “You’re—”

“No,” you snapped immediately, your fingers tightening on your dress, but you wouldn’t look at him.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t need you.”

He knew he was losing you.

Rafe exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

“Fuck you. You don’t get to— say shit like that. You don’t get to—” Your breathing hitched, and you bit down on the inside of your cheek.

“To what? To give a shit?”

He waited, watching, hoping, praying—please look at me, baby, please—but you didn’t move.

You scoffed, a bitter sound.

“You don’t care. You just don’t like the idea of—” Your breath caught, but you swallowed it down, pushing past the lump in your throat. “You don’t like the idea of me making a choice that doesn’t involve you.”

He hadn’t breathed properly since he saw your hands gripping your stomach, hiding yourself from him like you thought he was something to be afraid of. Like you thought he wouldn’t love you.

You thought he wouldn’t fucking stay.

“I love you.”

He barely recognized his own voice when he said it, but it was the only thing he could spill out. He swore to God he saw your left eye twitch at the confession, he knew what came next, but he’d never been good at shutting up when he should when it came to you.

“I do,” he insisted, “And I know I don’t—I don’t deserve to say that. I don’t deserve to expect anything from you.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “But I need you to know it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I fucked up, I know. I fucked up so bad.”

You turned your head to the side, blinking up at the ceiling, refusing to spare him a glance. “I don’t want you to fix it.”

“I know,” he said immediately. “I know, but I can’t—I can’t just let you go through this alone.”

Your chest rose and fell too quickly, your breath uneven, but still—you stood your ground. “I don’t need you.”

“Please don’t say that,” he nearly dropped to his knees. “Please.”

You looked at him, since he’d realized what this meant, you lifted your head, met his gaze—really met it.

And shit—It nearly destroyed him, because he knew that look.

“Where the fuck were you, Rafe? Kissing her two months after we ended? Huh—” Your breath shuddered, and you shook your head, stepping back, “You didn’t even wait. You just—just moved the fuck on like I never even mattered—”

“It wasn’t like that—”

"Did you fuck her?" Your lips curled into a faux smile. "That’s what I thought."

"No,” He added quickly, shaking his head like the thought alone disgusted him, "No, I didn’t."

You chuckled disbelieving. "Don’t lie to me."

"I’m not," he said, stepping closer despite the way your body went rigid. "I didn’t touch her like that. I swear to God."

"But you wanted to, right?"

His head moved so fast it gave him whiplash, "No. The only person I’ve ever wanted is you.”

You scoffed, “That’s real sweet, real fucking poetic.”

“I let my own shit get in the way, and I hurt you. But I swear to God, I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“That supposed to make me feel better? You fucked off to play house with some other girl,” You swallowed hard, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why were you there with her? Why did you let me think—"

"Because I’m a fucking assshole," he admitted, "I was trying to forget you, okay? But I couldn’t. No matter what I did, it was always you."

“Fuck you.” You snickered. “Where were you when I finally got my internship? The one I worked for, the one I wanted so bad?” You shook your head, “You didn’t even text me. Not once.”

His throat was tight, his pulse hammering, because he had thought about it—so many times, so many nights staring at his phone, fingers hovering, but he hadn’t.

Rafe’s heart plummeted.

“I—”

“You what? You forgot?”

His nails bit into his palms, “I—”

“You don’t get to speak,” you seethed, you eyes burning through him. “You don’t get to fucking say you care when you weren’t there, when you didn’t even fucking check if I was okay.

"I'm sorry."

"Where the fuck were you,” you whispered, voice shaking with grief, “when I found out I was pregnant with your fucking kid?”

Rafe froze, his stomach jumped around, violently, his ears started ringing. His brain short-circuited, his lungs forgot how to take in air, his heart fucking stopped.

Pregnant.

Pregnant. With his—

“Oh, right.” Your laugh was venomous, “You showed up at my charity gala.” You licked your lips, shaking your head, “Defending her.”

He never felt so completely useless, completely fucking helpless while you stood in front of him, looking up at him like you hated him.

“I—” He started, but nothing came out. “You—”

There was nothing to fucking say, you were right, he had failed you.

You weren’t telling him this so he could weigh in or because you wanted him to be a part of it. You were telling him so he’d know, so there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings, so he wouldn’t ever think, even for a second, that there was still a version of this where he got to be a part of it.

“How long?” The words were hoarse, hardly audible.

Your lips curled in disgust, arms crossing tight over your chest. “Like you fucking care.”

He did, he did care.

So fucking much that he thought he might fucking die under the weight of it. Except the realization hit him just as quickly—he didn’t get to stand here, wide-eyed and breathless and shocked like this wasn’t the natural conclusion to the shitshow of mistakes he’d made.

“Don’t fucking stand there and act like this is some big revelation. You didn’t spend the last months with your tongue down someone else’s throat while I was home—sick, alone—wondering how the fuck I was supposed to do this without you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, pressing your knuckles to your lips to stop them from shaking.

His gut twisted.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Jesus Christ, he’d been so fucking stupid.

“I don’t need you. I never did.”

It was a lie, maybe you even believed it.

But Rafe knew you, understood how hard it was for you to ask for help. Knew how much it had hurt to stand in front of him, admitting the truth. And Rafe—he needed to fix this. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.

“I should’ve been there.”

“Yeah? No shit.”

Rafe felt his ribs caving in. “I’m here now.”

“That’s not good enough.”

It was a death sentence, it was fair but fuck, he couldn’t accept it.

Rafe stepped closer.

You took a step back.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he swore, desperate. “I don’t care if you fucking hate me, don’t care if you never forgive me.” His throat worked around the lump in it. “I’m here.”

You were so fucking angry. So fucking hurt. He didn’t blame you for it. But if he didn’t try, if he didn’t fucking show you—prove to you that he was here now—then he’d never forgive himself.

“You think I’m gonna just forgive you for this?” you sneered, arms folded tightly over your chest. “Just because you’re here now, just because you say the words that mean nothing—that’s enough? After everything? After all of it?”

All he could do was look at you—look at the person he had ruined, the person he had loved, and still loved, more than anything. 

“I just—” He sucked in a breath, running a hand through his growing hair. “Tell me about the baby.”

Your expression faltered before you hardened again, lips pressing into a thin line.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bullshit.” His voice broke. “Don’t do that—don’t shut me out. Is it... a boy? A girl?”

You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Why does it matter?”

“Don’t—don’t keep me in the dark, please. You’ve felt them move?” 

You looked down at your feet. “No.” 

"Did you—uh—" He rubbed the back of his neck, nerves raw. "Do you have morning sickness? I read that happens early on, right?"

You blinked, "What?"

"Like... throwing up and all that? You okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned, but it only made your head spin.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Can we drop it?”

It’s then he remembers the beach cleanup, the memories of that afternoon colliding all at once—the way you’d collapsed into him, pale and unresponsive. The panic that gripped his chest as he carried you to the truck. The fight during the drive, when you told him to leave, your refusal to let him come inside.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“You were…” He pratically gasped, “You were pregnant. At the beach cleanup.”

You stiffened, already dreading where he was going with this.

“Don’t.”

His pulse raced, “That’s why you didn’t want me to come inside the hospital, wasn’t it?” His words spilled out, “You were scared they’d tell me. Holy shit.”

“Stop,” you snapped, but he couldn’t.

“You passed out because of—” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. “Jesus Christ.”

“I said stop.”

He couldn’t unsee it now—couldn’t unfeel your dead weight on his arms. He’d been right there, clueless, driving you to the hospital while you were carrying his baby. And instead of being there for you, he’d made everything worse.

“I didn’t know,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “I swear I didn’t know.”

“Exactly.” Your voice was cold, “You didn’t know because you weren’t there.”

He was going to have to spend that entire fucking inheritance fortune on therapy

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Million Dollar Man"

Ok yall..... I know I said it was gonna be another chapter of "I bet on losing dogs" but @lilithquillete sent in an ask about Reader interacting with Harvey Dent and I couldn't help myself. This is the same AU as Older, and it's the prologue. Sorry if they dont make sense together butttt I couldn't stop myself, Hope yall like it!!!!

The Pink Pony Club was Gotham’s underbelly, dark, seedy, and full of people who either wanted to forget their past or embrace it. Jazz played faintly in the background, a vocalist crooning somewhere in the distance, as smoky air curled up toward the dimly lit ceiling. The dim lighting and murmur of conversation created a sense of anonymity. For you, this was heaven.

A place where you got on stage and no one knew you, your first taste of freedom outside your family. Here, you weren't Bruce Wayne's least favorite child nor were you the failed Batgirl or useless sister, here you were just you.

Your voice enchanted people and on stage in your heels, you were unstoppable.

Only a couple nights ago, you packed your things and walked out of Wayne Manor, as if the years of being part of that family never existed. It wasn’t just that Bruce and the others had been ignoring her for Tiffany all these years; it was the cruel realization that you was never important to them. Not like they were to each other.

You tried. You had given them everything. But Tiffany’s presence had overshadowed you since she came into the manor on your 14th birthday. It was as if you'd been erased, the little attention you got diverted and multiplied to someone who was more useful, more important.

You couldn’t even get a text from Duke anymore, let alone a casual chat with Dick or Tim. Forget about Damian or Jason, or any of the girls really.

So, you left. And now, you found yourself at the Pink Pony Club, a dive bar with no judgments, just an escape.

The club was packed tonight, filled with people who seemed to have their own agendas and distractions. You took a seat at the bar, watching the crowd. It was your first day off and you had nowhere else to go.

Tonight, you weren't singing, didn't want to be noticed, but Gotham had a way of drawing attention to its wounded.

You weren't sure what you were doing anymore. This was't you. You were never a party girl, you would never be caught dead in a place like this. Bruce would kill you, if he could look away from Tiffany long enough to see you here.

Maybe you were trying to spite you family. Maybe trying to drown the anger that simmered within you. Anger at the Batfamily, who had all but erased you from their lives. Anger at yourself, for allowing it to happen.

But mostly, the anger at Bruce. You had spent years trying to live up to his expectations, only to realize that Tiffany had took his love in a day.

But tonight, you weren't thinking about them. Tonight, you were here to forget.

As you sipped your drink, you noticed a familiar figure at the back of the room. Harvey Dent, the once-proud district attorney, now the infamous Two-Face, sat alone in a booth, nursing a drink. His face was partially scarred from the acid, and his expression, even now, looked like he carried the weight of Gotham's filth on his shoulders.

Selina Kyle, Cat Woman, Bruce's ex- lover who got you the job had mentioned he frequented the club. And if you were being honest, you couldn't help but be curious about him.

"Rough night, sweetheart?" a voice purred from beside you. Speak of the devil.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. You knew that voice too well. Selina Kyle. The only person who never treated you like a pawn or an afterthought. The only one who didn't care about the petty squabbles of Gotham's rich, the same Gotham she had spent most of her life trapped in. Your only friend in this god-forsaken city.

You half-turned in your chair, giving Selina a wry smile. “You have no idea.”

Selina perched herself next to you, crossing her arms, sizing up the tension on your face. "Let me guess. The Batfamily still ignoring you? Haven't even noticed you moved out? Too busy obsessing over the golden child?"

Your mouth twisted bitterly, but you said nothing, Selina always knew exactly how to get a rise out of you. Your eyes flickered toward the back of the bar again where Harvey Dent, still sat in the shadows, his burnt face half-hidden under his usual dark, grim expression.

Selina followed your gaze, the slight curve of her lips pulling into a mischievous smile. “You’re looking at him again, huh? You know, I never took you for the bad-boy type. Never thought you'd betray Superboy like that.”

"I'm not thinking of Clark tonight." You said, suddenly tense at the mention of your unrequited love.

A dark, playful smirk crossed your lips. You weren't looking for anything serious tonight. Just a distraction. And Harvey would be perfect for that.

Bruce would be pissed.

You slid off the stool and made your way toward the half-handsome man, the tension between them thickening as you approached. He looked up, his eyes scanning you for a moment before he smirked.

“Is there something I can help you with, sweetheart?” Harvey asked, his voice low and rough, the raspiness of his tone sending a jolt of heat through your chest.

You leaned against the table, crossing your arms. “Saw you sitting here all by yourself, thought maybe you could use some company.”

Harvey's lips curled into a dismissive grin, but his eyes were cold, calculating. “You think I need company?” His tone was sharp, sarcastic. “You're a little young for me, don't you think?”

You grinned, unbothered by his coldness. “A little age never hurt anyone, mind if I sit?” You asked, your voice dripping with feigned innocence as you slipped into the seat opposite Harvey. You could feel his sharp eyes on you, scanning your every movement, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, his jaw tight.

“Sure, if you’re into wasting your time,” he said flatly, not even bothering to look up again.

Reader’s lips curled into a playful smile. “I don't think anything to do with someone like you is a waste.”

Harvey glanced up slowly, his sharp gaze scrutinizing you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. His eyes lingered on you for a beat too long, his lips tight with something unreadable. “You’re bold,” he remarked, his voice heavy with condescension.

You tilted your head, leaning against the back of the booth, watching him through half-lidded eyes, peering at him innocently through your lashes, “What, is that a problem?”

He didn’t answer immediately, taking a long sip of his drink, his eyes now trained on her lips before sliding up to meet her gaze again. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, little girl.”

You didn’t flinch, though a hot flash of insecurity pierced through your facade. You’d had enough of people underestimating you. “Maybe, but i've always had a thing for lost causes.”

Harvey smirked, his expression a mix of arrogance and indifference. “I’m not exactly your type, kid. You want a pretty boy, go back to playing in your Batcave.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and pushing out your chest. “Did you just call me a kid?”

Harvey’s lips thinned, and you could see his eyes momentarily flicker to your chest. All men were the same.. “That’s what you are, sweetheart. You’re out of your league, go home to daddy and stop trying to play with the big boys. You don't belong here.”

You let out a low chuckle, leaning in just a little closer. This was a challenge now, he thought he was too good for you, too strong to give in, you'd show him how convincing you could be. “You think so? I’m not the one sitting in a dark corner of a bar brooding. Seems like I’m doing just fine.”

Harvey’s eyes darkened, and the tension in the air thickened. He took another sip, this time with a little more force, the sound of the glass clinking against the table ringing out. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don't really care.”

He smiled, sharp and predatory, "This won't play out in your favor. You think you're in charge here, you're not."

The words hung between you, charged with something dangerous.

For the next hour, you exchanged glances, words, and cold retorts, every time Harvey tried to shut you down, you would respond with something even more bold and charming, pulling him in. The man was harder to read than a stone wall, but you knew one thing for sure: the tension was building, the air crackling with the kind of heat that made your heart quicken.

Finally, Harvey broke, leaning forward and offering you a sardonic smile. “Alright. What’s your angle, sweetheart?”

You leaned in as well, matching his intensity, never backing down no matter how hard he tried to intimidate you. “Just here for a good time. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine. But I think we could both use some fun. A way to let loose.”

Harvey’s jaw clenched, but the flicker of interest in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re wasting your time. I’m not interested. ”

“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?” You shot back, your voice low, sharp, and breathy.

Harvey’s lips tightened again, the words bitter in his mouth. “Because you’re trouble, you're a mess. And trouble’s what I wanted tonight.”

The words stung, but you didn’t let it show. “Then we're on the same page.”

For a moment, his jaw tightened, his face betraying a flicker of frustration. He reached for his glass, swirling it absentmindedly before taking a long sip. Then, after a beat, he placed the glass down with a deliberate slowness, his eyes narrowing.

“I don’t have time for games, little girl. Why don’t you take your flirtations somewhere else?”

But there was something in his voice—something that cracked, a faint whisper of desire beneath the tough exterior. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“I don't want much,” You replied, your voice low, leaning in slightly, your noses almost touching. “Just tonight. A distraction.”

He smirked at that. “A distraction, huh? You think you can handle me?"

The words were slow, dangerous, suggestive. The tension between them had become thick, charged with the weight of things neither of them was willing to admit.

“Nothing permanent. Just... for tonight. What happens after doesn’t matter.” You'd never fall for someone like Harvey Dent.

Harvey's lips twisted, amusement in his eyes. “What would your daddy think?”

A week ago, that would've mattered. Back when your life revolved around him and his stupid family. But now? Now, it didn't matter, nothing mattered other than getting Harvey Dent in her bed tonight.

You chuckled darkly. “I'm a big girl now Harvey, I choose who my daddy is."

His gaze sharpened, his grin widened, and you could feel him moving under the table. “Really? Do you now? Does that mean I have to prove myself?" He said his Gotham accent coming out as he swiftly slid out the booth and began walking away, only glancing back at you once in a silent invitation.

The night bled into the morning as you found yourself in your bed alone, the only evidence of last night being your scattered clothes and the rumpled side of the bed that smelled of a deep, earthy cologne. Harvey, nowhere to be found, though you're sure he stayed the night.

You found a note on your nightstand with a number and a single red rose. You threw them both away.

The intensity of the night, of Harvey’s dangerous allure, his cold, hard demeanor that eventually gave way to something more primal; had left you breathless. You hadn’t exchanged any promises, but there was no mistaking the way he’d looked at you afterward. There was an intensity that had simmered between the two of you, a powerful connection of mutual darkness.

Later that day, as you met up with Selina to apologize for ditching her last night, you couldn't help but notice the sly smile on Selina's face.

"So, how was it? Life altering? Mind numbing?" Selina asked innocently, but her voice had a knowing tone.

“Fun,” you replied smirking, “Just what I needed. No strings attached.”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I heard Harvey’s been looking for you. Asking around. Seems like you’ve left an impression on him. He's not the type to give up.”

Your chest tightened, but you pushed the feeling down. “He was just a distraction. That’s all. i just needed to forget Clark for the night.”

Selina knew of your childhood crush, she was the first you told. You approached her as an awkward, chubby 13 year old, asking how to make Superman your boyfriend.

Selina smirked, clearly unconvinced. “You tell yourself that. But I think Harvey’s not done with you just yet.”

You shrugged, "I'm done with him."

Selina faltered, her mischief giving way to concern, "I'm serious. You need to be more careful, men like that, men like Harvey Dent, they don't take kindly to being ignored."

As the days passed, you felt the weight of your choices, of the things you’d told yourself you could leave behind. And yet, you couldn't help but feel the pull of Harvey’s gaze every time you closed your eyes and went home with a different guy.

You were still angry at the Batfamily, still haunted by the echoes of Tiffany’s presence, but now there was something else. Something dangerous, something that wasn’t just about anger anymore.

A few nights had passed since the night with Harvey. You found yourself with a strange feeling, lingering like smoke on your skin. Like someone was watching you, following you.

It started with small things, when you sang at the club, you could feel his eyes on you. When you flirted with customers and they didn't look you in the eye anymore. When even your charms and seduction couldn't pull anyone in, Harvey was trying to put you in a dry spell. Punish you for ignoring him.

A week after the night, you came home from the club to your apartment exhausted and what you saw shocked you. Dozens of red roses were in your living room and kitchen, with notes and pictures attached to each boquet. Everyday you ignored him, your apartment would be flooded with red roses, by the 4th day you were sure there were no more red roses in Gotham. You would read the notes, each day a different one, more vague and kind of threatening.

“I see you every night, whether you want me to or not. - H”

“You think I’m going to give up? Not when I’m this close. - H.”

“You can’t hide from me. I’ll always find you. - H.”

You rolls your eyes, but can’t stop the flicker of something—danger, excitement, anticipation—from flashing through you. The usual defiance is still there, but now it has a slight edge. It’s hard not to feel compelled by his power, and you pick up a card that has his number on it, and you call.

Two months. Thats how long you've been something to Harvey Dent.

Since that night you called him, you've seen Harvey Dent everyday for two months. You either saw him at the club, he never missed out on watching you sing, or at your apartment, or he'd wisk you away for a candle light dinner. The only exception of his constant attention was the two weeks you were sick, and even then he called you and sent you flowers.

Thats why when he started getting distant it hurt, you were in love with him.

Like a fool, you fell for Harvey "Two-Face" Dent.

You wrote songs for him, stayed up on the phone talking to him, baked him cookies and cakes, you didn't care about his scars or his mood swings, you put up with his sometimes hurtful comments because you could feel his love for you.

It was in the little things. Little displays of affection like knowing how you liked your coffee, your favorite fruit, how he would play your favorite movie whenever you were down and watch stupid rom-coms all night, without complaint. How he would laugh at all your stupid jokes and help you with the dishes.

Everything changed when Selina dropped a bombshell. You were just finishing your shift at the Pink Pony when Selina came up to you, leaning against the bar, a rare seriousness in her voice.

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to have to tell you this” Selina said, looking at you with eyes full of love and concern. “But I think you need to know . You’re not the only one Harvey’s been after.”

You froze, heart dropping to your feet. “What are you talking about?” You asked, chuckling at the unfunny joke, Harvey would never. He loves you.

Selina’s gaze shifted toward the back of the club, where Tiffany fucking Wayne, was standing at the bar with Harvey. The way she leaned into him, the flirtatious, familiar touch on his arm, made your heart drop. That was all the proof you needed.

“When you lost your voice last month, Tiffany came here every night, working him over. She’s been coming in, feeling him, and leaving with him. She’s been playing him like a violin. And he's been two-timing you.”

Your stomach twisted. Tiffany. Your “sister”, the girl who always took everything from you, the girl who you cried to him about, who you told him stole everything from you, stole him too. The image of Tiffany and Harvey together was enough to break something inside you.

Your voice cracked. “I... he... he was mine.”

Selina raised an eyebrow, sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry. You know Harvey’s not the only one she’s after. She’s always tried to steal everything from you. She’s always been good at that.”

It hit you harder than you wanted to admit. Tiffany had taken Harvey, too. she wasn’t stealing brothers or sisters from you; she was taking the one place where you had ever felt wanted.

He loved you, at some point, you were sure. But could love be so easily swayed?

Before she came and stole him like she stole everything else in your life, Harvey Dent loved you

In the two weeks you were sick, Tiffany Maverick stole the one man who loved you.

The next night at the club, the weight of Selina’s words followed you like a shadow. You stepped onto the stage, singing as best as you could, but the usual thrill was gone. Tiffany was there again, standing too close to Harvey. Every laugh they shared, every touch, was like a knife to your chest.

You couldn’t help but notice how Harvey had changed. The way he looked at you now felt different—distant, colder. There was no longer that spark of attraction, just the lingering sense that something had shifted. That someone else had taken hyourplace.

Tiffany had won. Again.

You finished your set and stepped off the stage, throat tight. You caught Harvey’s eye as he turned toward you, but there was no warmth or love in his gaze, like there was two weeks ago, only disappointment. He was looking at you like you were just another face in the crowd.

You couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t stay. It wasn’t just the loss of Harvey—it was the realization that Tiffany had taken your spot in their world.

Her betrayal felt too familiar, like an old wound that never healed. It wasn't enough for her to have your family, she wanted everything.

That night you quit the club and broke your lease to your apartment. You wouldn't let Tiffany or Two Face run you out of Gotham, out of your city, but you couldn't stay where you and him shared all your memories.

You would forget about him. You would never mention Harvey Dent again, you would never even think of him again. Nor would you acknowledge that he was the first man that loved you. Harvey Dent did not exist anymore.

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Just friends?

Lee Know x fem!reader

Warnings: language, suggestive content MDNI

Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and Minho used to be friends with benefits. Until you caught feelings, and you both called it off. But Minho obviously misses you and is miserable even though he doesn't want to admit it. And his brothers have had enough of his moping.

Clueless Masterlist

The arrangement with Minho had been perfect - or at least it had started that way. Opposite apartments on the same floor of your nice apartment building. You’d text each other, and within minutes, someone was at the other’s door. No strings, no drama. Just a lot of heat that left you breathless and a little sore the next day.

Until, of course, you did the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do - you caught feelings.

And naturally, Minho, emotionally stunted and a menace to society, panicked. He started pulling away, making excuses every time you asked if he wanted to come over. The warmth in his teasing dimmed into something guarded.

And it hurt. A lot. His rejection wasn't something you had expected, because no matter what anyone said, he was so soft and sweet to you. But he obviously didn't want a relationship, and you both decided to stop seeing each other.

You missed him. Not just his touch, but everything else too. The way he always brought food over (making excuses about how he had extra), held you tight when you had a hard day and how his cats lived with you more than they did with him. Oh you missed the cats. They were literally your kids - and this dirty divorce had given him full custody of them.

And Minho? He was a mess. Not that he’d admit it.

And Jisung had had about enough of his best friend and his brooding.

---

Jisung: OKAY EVERYONE STOP.

Chan: What's up?

Hyunjin: What did you do?

Jisung: NOTHING. THIS IS ABOUT MINHO.

Seungmin: What did he do?

Jisung: He’s been moping for WEEKS. And I'm sick of it.

Changbin: You sure? That’s just his face.

Jisung: LISTEN. IT’S ABOUT Y/N.

Hyunjin: Ohhhhhh.

Felix: I KNEW IT.

Minho: What the hell is going on?

Jisung: OH LOOK WHO DECIDED TO SHOW UP. Jisung: YOU, SIR, ARE A DRAMA QUEEN.

---

Minho sighed. This was the last thing he needed right now.

---

Minho: I’m not moping.

Felix: Sure. And I’m not Australian.

Hyunjin: Yeah, totally not glaring at your phone at all.

Minho: It’s not about her.

Jeongin: Are you sure you didn't accidentally click her name in your contacts 12 times yesterday?

Chan: What's going on, Min?

Minho: I don't even know what you guys are going on about!

Minho: We were friends. With benefits. Not lovers. She was nice in bed. That’s it.

---

There was complete silence in the chat for a minute before it exploded.

---

Chan: No, Minho. No. No. No.

Seungmin: Okay, first of all, what the actual fuck?

Hyunjin: Bro, you did not just say that.

Jisung: YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING LOSER.

Changbin: 😡

Jeongin: Hyung, she's an angel, how could you?

Felix: We’re literally trying to save you from yourself.

Minho: Well don't.

---

Minho hated himself. He absolutely hated himself. But he couldn't dwell on the self hate because Jisung just sent a video of Minho pacing his living room like a caged animal, while ranting about you being gone.

---

Hyunjin: Wow. Ok.

Minho: 🙄

Minho: Stop. Just stop.

Chan: Look, you’re obviously miserable. Why not just talk to her?

Seungmin: Yeah, genius. It’s not like she doesn’t live 20 feet away.

Minho: What if she doesn’t feel the same?

Jeongin: I'm sorry, but you’re an idiot.

Hyunjin: Dude. She liked you enough to start this whole thing. You just have to get over your dumb commitment issues.

Changbin: Honestly, just confess. Worst-case scenario, you cry into Dori.

Minho: I hate you all.

Jisung: Hate is a strong word for someone who’s about to sob into his cat.

Minho: Fine. I’ll talk to her.

---

Minho sat on his couch, heart pounding as he stared at your number on his phone. He’d been backed into a corner by his idiot friends, and now there was no escape.

And knowing you, he had a feeling that this was going to be the single most difficult task ever.

With a frustrated groan, he stood and grabbed his hoodie. He was going to do this. Because he loved you so much, and he was miserable without you.

Across the hall, in your apartment, you were getting some work done, sipping on coffee. You heard the doorbell, and when you opened the door, you saw Minho - disheveled, nervous, and yet, as handsome as ever. And your traitorous heart did that stupid thing it always did around him.

“Hey,” he said softly, eyes meeting yours. “Can we talk?”

Minho hadn’t been this nervous in a long time. He stood at your doorstep, heart racing, and palms sweaty, his usual confidence nowhere to be seen.

And he confessed. Nothing dramatics. Just a straightforward, “I love you.”

You'd stared at him as if trying to figure out if he was high. Or had hit his head somewhere. Or if he was simply horny.

But no. Then came his little speech. I know I don't deserve you. I was an asshole (of course he was). I was afraid (as if you weren't). And more than anything - I hurt you. And I hate myself for it. Ok now that you could work with.

But as hard as you tried, sometimes you just couldn't contain that bratty side of you (one that he apparently loved).

You crossed your arms, glaring at him like he’d just run over your dog.

“You can’t just waltz over here, say ‘I love you,’ and expect me to fall into your arms,” you snapped, looking infuriatingly hot with your brows furrowed and your lips pursed in defiance. “You rejected me, Minho. Do you know much that hurt me?”

His stomach twisted.

“I… I wasn’t ready -” he stuttered, looking terrified.

“Yeah, well, now I’m not ready,” you said, taking a step back and slamming the door in his face for dramatic effect.

You leaned against the door, fuming and freaking out all together. Your hands shook so hard as you wrapped your head around the fact that Minho just confessed to you and you slammed the door on his face.

And Minho stood in the hallway, a mix of shock, frustration, and - God help him - arousal bubbling under the surface. You were bratty when you were mad, of course. It made him want to kiss you and throttle you all at once.

---

Minho: She hates me.

Hyunjin: No, she doesn't. She slammed the door on your face didn't she?

Minho: How the hell are you so accurately right?

Jeongin: It's his thing.

Felix: What happened?

Jisung: Wait. Did you confess?

Minho: YES.

Minho: AND SHE SLAMMED THE DOOR IN MY FACE.

Hyunjin: Obviously.

Chan: So she didn’t say no?

Jisung: LMFAO.

Jeongin: She’s mad at you? Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

Minho: SHE SAID A SIMPLE “I LOVE YOU” WOULDN’T WORK ON HER. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

Seungmin: It means she’s not an idiot.

Changbin: Exactly. You rejected her and took months to realize you’re in love. She deserves a little groveling.

Minho: GROVELING?

Felix: Oh, for sure.

---

He was not groveling. No way. Lee Minho didn't grovel. Hell no.

---

Jisung: Yeah, buddy. You gotta pull out all the stops now. Dinner, flowers, interpretive dance. The works.

Minho: STOP.

Hyunjin: Actually, the dance idea is kinda sexy. Imagine Minho doing a hip roll to apologize.

Felix: STOP IT. I’M WHEEZING.

Minho: CAN YOU ALL BE SERIOUS FOR TWO SECONDS?!

Chan: Look, the point is, you hurt her feelings. You need to show her that you’re serious.

Minho: How?! She's a damn brat. She enjoys torturing me.

Jisung: If she’s a brat, she’s gonna want to see you sweat.

Minho: She frustrates me.

Jisung: So you're sure you're just frustrated and not turned on right now?

---

Damn Jisung.

---

Jeongin: YAHHHH

Felix: You’re INTO IT???

Changbin: My man’s in love AND down bad.

Minho: Please.

Felix: Okay, focus. If groveling isn’t your style, do something you.

Hyunjin: Yeah. Seduce her with your weird cat boy energy or whatever.

Minho: You’re all useless.

Seungmin: Says the man who just admitted to being horny and clueless.

Chan: Minho, she clearly wants you to prove yourself. You’ve got to show her you’re willing to put in effort.

Hyunjin: Write her a song. Serenade her. Cry through it.

Minho: I don’t cry.

Jisung: LIES. I’ve seen you cry at those pet videos.

Minho: JISUNG YOU'RE DEAD.

Minho: What if she never forgives me?

Jeongin: She will. She’s just mad. Just play along.

Hyunjin: He’s right. Drama makes us hotter.

Minho: You're all insane 🙄

Chan: Insane but not wrong. Now, go apologize properly.

---

Minho paced his living room, his mind racing through ideas - romantic dinner? A heartfelt speech? Maybe just tossing himself at your feet and begging?

He needed a plan.

---

Minho: Fine. Give me ideas to make her forgive me.

Jisung: OHOHOHOHOHO.

Felix: Oh, this is gonna be good.

Hyunjin: Okay, everyone, let’s brainstorm.

Changbin: Classic dinner and flowers. Can’t go wrong.

Jisung: No, no. She’s mad. You need to go BIG. Like, dramatic big.

Minho: Like what? Fall to my knees in the rain?

Hyunjin: YES. Bonus points if you sob.

Minho: I’m not doing that.

Seungmin: You’re all useless. Look, Minho, she’s mad because you hurt her. You need to make her feel special. Do something that shows you actually care.

Jisung: STRIPTEASE.

Chan: Jisung.

Felix: WAIT. THAT’S ACTUALLY KIND OF FUNNY.

Hyunjin: Picture this. You show up at her door, music playing, and just start taking things off.

Minho: I want to win her back. Not make her think I'm horny.

Jisung: Coward.

---

Obviously he knew this would happen. He knew it.

---

Chan: Okay, let’s regroup. Minho, what does she like?

Minho: Being mad at me, apparently.

Jeongin: Sounds like she has taste.

Minho: She likes reading. And baking. And…dancing.

Felix: Aha! Bake her something!

Hyunjin: And while it’s baking, do a little dance. Shirtless.

Jisung: OOOH. Combine the ideas. Show up with baked goods and then do the striptease.

Minho: Oh my God.

Seungmin: You could apologize like a normal person, you know.

Felix: Where’s the fun in that?

Jisung: No, no. We need something iconic.

Felix: Okay, serious suggestion: Show her that you actually listened to her. Her favorite food? Or something thoughtful that shows you care about what she likes.

Minho: Like…?

Hyunjin: Cook her favorite meal.

Chan: Or bring her flowers that mean something.

Jisung: Or do the striptease.

Minho: STOP WITH THE STRIPTEASE.

Felix: It’s not a bad idea, you know. Women love confidence.

Minho: I’ll do the cooking idea. But if this backfires, I'm gonna hunt each one of you down and then see what happens.

Jisung: Lies. You’ll be back to cry about it.

---

Minho got to work. He spent hours perfecting your favorite meal, rehearsing his apology in front the mirror, and trying not to think about how much he wanted to kiss you. God, he just wanted to cuddle you and tell you how much his life sucked without you in it.

When he finally knocked on your door, you opened it to find him standing there, holding so many containers of food and looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft. “Can I come in?”

You crossed your arms, and sighed.

"Minho, I really don't have the time-"

"I made your favorite," he said, holding up the containers. "And I will grovel if that's what it takes."

You did love it when he cooked for you.

“This better be good.”

Minho stood in your living room, wringing his hands as you sat on the couch, glaring at him. He set the food on the coffee table and looked at you, his sharp tongue failing him for once.

“I was afraid,” he finally said, voice low.

“Afraid of what? Being happy?” You asked, arching an eyebrow.

Minho winced.

“Yes. No. I mean…God, I don’t know. You’re everything to me, okay? And I was scared I’d ruin it. And then I did ruin it, and now I’m standing here like an idiot, begging you to let me fix it.”

“You… you really mean that?” You asked, your voice softer now, your eyes obviously filling up with tears.

“I’ve been a mess without you. I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, but I do. I love you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes proving it to you.” he whispered, and you sighed, standing up and stepping closer to him.

“You’re such a dumbass, you know that?”

“Yeah, I've been told.”

And then he cupped your cheeks with his hands and kissed you. Rough and messy, the tension melting away as your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“You better not mess this up.” you muttered against his lips.

“Not a chance.”

---

Minho: We’re trying the relationship thing.

Felix: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!

Hyunjin: FINALLY.

Jisung: Thank you 🙏

Changbin: Congrats, lover boy.

Chan: Proud of you, Minho.

Felix: Did she like the food?

Minho: Um, it kinda went cold. She’s heating it up now.

Hyunjin: LMAO.

Jisung: What about the striptease? Did you do it?

Minho: 🙄🙄🙄

Jisung: ANSWER THE QUESTION, COWARD.

Minho: We did strip. So… hehe.

Felix: SIR.

Hyunjin: NOT THE “HEHE.”

Jisung: I CAN’T BREATHE.

Changbin: YOU DOG.

Chan: Minho, for the love of God.

Minho: You asked.

Jisung: My dude really said, “She forgave me, and then we got NAKED.” ICONIC.

Jeongin: Please. I just came here to see if Minho hyung was still single, and now I want to bleach my brain.

Chan: Can we not, for once, be so feral?

Hyunjin: You’re in the wrong chat for that, Christopher.

Jisung: Anyway, so… did you, like, destroy the house or… ?

Minho: I will never speak to any of you again.

Jisung: YOU CAN’T JUST DROP “WE STRIPPED” AND THEN LEAVE.

Felix: It’s called a cliffhanger, Ji. Let the man be mysterious.

Hyunjin: Yeah, mysterious about how whipped he is.

Felix: Totally

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @hanadulsetaad

[bananayuyu]

All in Black

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 7.0k

Summary: Who knew grad school would bring you the hottest man you'd ever met?

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, anal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (oops), alcohol consumption, I think that's all

A/n: That damn black tank does things to me... this was severe self indulgence, I hope y'all enjoy <3 (I didn't edit this one so sorry for mistakes)

<><><><><><><><><>

The first month of grad school, it hit you like a train.

Maybe you had partied a lot in college.

It really would depend who you asked. It was what everyone around you did, as far as you could tell. At least you avoided the worst of it, the blackouts or harder drugs or strange off campus house parties where no one knew anyone. At least you stuck to your friends, the dorms, the familiar safety of campus. You'd had fun; you were young, in need of time, exploration, a chance to see the world and all it had to offer. Maybe that meant a few too many shots, sometimes, or a regrettable hookup or two. Maybe it meant hauling your best friend away from that stupid boy she was hung up on, stumbling back to your dorm in a fit of giggles and tears.

Maybe you thought you were over it, by the time senior year came. The summer after graduation you spent working, and with so many of your close friends already off to their new lives, you'd gone out less and less, staying in instead and preparing for your future.

Maybe this was growing up, you thought.

But the new city had you questioning everything. It had you missing those messy nights, those tight dresses and uncomfortable heels, those looks you shot your bestie when you knew someone was coming on to you. You miss indulging in it all, missed talking in hushed tones to the tall, gorgeous history major and asking him every possible question you could till his eyes had scanned every inch of you. You missed giggling at night in the dorm, keeping each other up with replays of your messy make-outs in the halls, an RA sternly barking at you to get your 'obviously drunk asses' out of there. And you missed hands on your hips, lips on your neck, that feeling of being so lost in someone you forgot every single thing you'd studied that day...

Why had he been on your mind so much the last three weeks?

Maybe it wasn't just the new city, that had caught you in your head and spun you for a ride.

"Hey, are you busy tonight?" your best friend called across the living room as you stood by the stove, mending your stir fry. Her face was buried in her phone, legs crossed over each other as she lounged on the purple couch, your shared apartment the epitome of colorful and girly.

"No, I don't think so, why?" you asked, adding noodles to the pan, a sharp hiss following as they hit the sizzling surface.

"Well, Mingi just texted me..." she trailed off, and you knew her face was scrunched up in an adorable smile, even though you couldn't see her.

"Oh really? He did?" you responded, laughter filling the air between you.

"He said they're having a little party at their house tonight," she continued, sitting herself up and finally looking your way.

"And?" you asked, making eye contact with her, your eyebrows slightly raised.

"He said he hopes to see me there," she laughed, brushing her long hair out of her face.

"And you need me to come for moral support?" you joked, turning off the heat on the stove and moving to grab plates from the cabinet.

"Well, yeah, that, and also, he said-" she paused a moment, grabbing her phone again and opening it. "He said, and bring that little friend of yours, Yunho wants to see her again."

"Hannah," you sighed, eyes shooting her way. "Don't fuck with me, I'll go with you to wing-woman, I don't mind."

"I'm not fucking with you, seriously! Come look!" She held out her phone, and instantly the plates were forgotten as you walked over. Leaning down and squinting at her phone, you peered at the texts on the screen in front of you.

S.M.G: We're having a little party at our house tonight, I hope to see you there S.M.G: Oh and Han, bring that little friend of yours, Yunho wants to see her again

And as you stared at the screen, another text came through, followed by another.

S.M.G: Sorry if calling her your little friend sounds mean S.M.G: That's just what Yunho called her, so, yeah. And she is quite little

"Oh my god," you laughed, shaking your head and standing. You feigned disinterest, more to yourself that your best friend, but you couldn't deny that seeing his name made something in you flip with excitement.

"What?" Hannah asked, but her question was answered as soon as she peered at the new texts herself. Then she laughed again, prompting you to ask the same question.

"What?"

She just turned her phone to you, and you squinted again.

S.M.G: You're both quite little. A pair of little chicks S.M.G: Sorry, idk what tf that was S.M.G: We'd love to see you both

"Girl, he's so obsessed with you," you chuckle as you stand, making your way back to kitchen.

"He's so weird," she says behind you, but you hear the adoration in her voice, hear the way she can't fight the smile that's forming.

"Don't pretend you don't love it," you responded, finally grabbing the plates now, grabbing some noodles from the pan for each of you.

"Ah, shit, I burnt it a bit on the bottom," you said, the slightly bitter smell wafting up to your nose.

"How will I ever survive," Hannah cried, a hand coming to her forehead as she swooned into the couch again.

"It's your fault for distracting me with those damn texts, missy," you shot back, fighting off laughter.

"My bad," she sang out behind you, and when your faces met she was pouting.

<><><><><><><><><>

"I know you're not really into partying anymore," Hannah said, as you both stood at the sink, washing and drying your dirty dishes.

"I guess not," you replied, looking over to her.

"What I mean is, if you don't want to come tonight, you don't have to. I just always invite you to everything, you know. Cause I love to have you there. But it doesn't mean you have to come." The sappiness wasn't surprising from her; you'd never expected to become best friends with your randomly-assigned freshmen roommate, but every since the day you'd met you'd learned what being best friends with someone could really feel like. The unending support, the companionship. She almost felt like more than you deserved, sometimes.

"Does it seem like I don't want to come?" you asked.

"I just, I don't know if Yunho did anything weird last time we were there, or anything, and I don't want you to feel pressured to go there if he did."

"Oh, Han, no. Nothing weird happened."

"You just hadn't said anything about him, so I wondered if, I don't know, he made you feel weird."

"You're too sweet for this world," you replied, shaking your head at her worry and sincerity.

"So you just don't really like him?" she asked.

"No, I-" you stopped yourself, remembering that night from three weeks ago. "I've just been busy as hell since then, we haven't really had a chance to just sit down and talk. And-" you hesitated again, a thought suddenly bubbling up quickly within you. "He also only talked to me for like ten minutes that night, I'm surprised he's telling Mingi he wants to see me."

"It sounds like he's obsessed, too," she replied, giggling.

"I don't know about that," you sighed, but you couldn't help the slight color that rose in your cheeks.

"Oh, girl, please. Of course he is," she replied, nudging your hip with hers.

"We'll see, I guess," you chuckled, drying the last of your dishes, placing the hand towel back on the handle of the oven. "I hope he likes black dresses," you laughed, and your best friend gave you a knowing smirk, making her way to her room to grab her outfit and makeup for the evening.

You'd both noticed it immediately when you'd met, how you were literally exactly the same size. The clothes sharing started pretty much immediately, and it was convenient at first, as laundry days were hard to come by freshman year. The first time you went out you both laughed as you realized you owned the exact same little black dress; and maybe it was surprising, maybe it wasn't, but you both loved it. You hit the party that night dressed almost identical, your matching brunette waves flowing in the breeze behind you as you made your way to the frat house. You looked so similar, everyone that night had trouble telling you apart. So you kept doing it; every time you went out, you matched your outfits in some way, even if it was minor.

Then during sophomore year you both gained just a little bit of weight at almost the same time, and it really felt like the universe telling you something. You both went out to shop for new dresses together. Those old ones from high school just didn't fit your now twenty year old bodies, and it was time for a change, anyway.

It had been a while since you'd been out, so you both knew. It was those matching scrappy black dresses you'd be wearing, those ones that hugged your curves so perfectly and made you feel like a perfect little barbie doll. You'd pair yours with your plat form Mary Janes; Hannah would be in her favorite black strappy heels, the ones that made her a few inches taller than you.

It was a joyful hour, getting ready. You hadn't sat down to do a full face of makeup in so long; you couldn't even recall the last time, which must have been nearly a year ago, at this point. You were almost certain you'd both show up overdressed, but you were having too much fun. You added heavy liner to your eyes, a glittery highlight to your cheeks. Hannah drew a tiny heart on your cheek with her gel liner, and you put a pink kiss on her cheek, reapplying your lipstick after you did.

"Do you wanna pregame at all?" she asked you as you both finally pulled on your shoes, the final touch to your outfits.

"Honestly, I don't even feel like drinking tonight," you laughed, looking up at her.

"Dude, me neither. My stomach's been all sensitive today," she said, grabbing your black purse from the hook it rested on.

"Your period is coming, then," you said, laughing at the way her faced scrunched up.

"You read my body better than I do," she pouted, reaching inside your bag to check in the inner pocket. "I'm gonna go get some tampons to put in here, just in case. Then we'll go, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll put your phone and keys in here," you said, grabbing the purse from her, as she walked to the bathroom to grab the tampons.

<><><><><><><><><>

You both knocked on their front door, the wood sounding dull and flimsy under your fists.

The graduate student housing wasn't exactly brand new, but the boys had made a good effort of making the inside of their place nicer than most. You'd only been over a few times, but you'd seen everything the bottom floor had to offer: their kitchen, living room, and Mingi's bedroom, and the bathroom that sat right beside it, just past the stair case.

The three bedrooms upstairs were a mystery to you, but judging by how clean they kept the bottom floor, you'd bet it wasn't as much of a disaster up there as one may expect.

It certainly surprised you the first time you were here. You and Hannah both walked in apprehensive that day.

"Hey! Come on in," Mingi answered the door, his wide smile flashing with a hint of mischief as he eyed Hannah up and down, the two of you walking in underneath his outstretched arm. "Glad you guys could make it," he said, nodding in your direction, an arm reaching out to take your purse.

"Can you put it in your room? It has my stuff in it," Hannah said to him, flashing doe eyes up in his direction for just a second, her lips in the whisper of a pout.

You almost couldn't contain the laughter, at watching Mingi fight off the smile on his face, how he looked so entranced by her already and it'd only been a few seconds.

"Of course, Han," he replied, stepping past you to put it where she'd asked.

With him out of sight you both finally took in your surroundings; a small party might have been an understatement, though it wasn't a rager by any means. There were more people in here than you expected, though, and you definitely realized you hadn't overdressed. Now you were very thankful you'd decided to go full out tonight; there must have been some special occasion being celebrated, because almost everyone was dressed to the nines.

"It's on my bed, if you need it," Mingi said as he returned, a hand sliding around Hannah's waist as he moved next to her. The two got lost in easy conversation immediately, but your eyes continued to trail across the space, across the living room full of people, peaking into the side of the kitchen that you could still see.

"Yunho's in the kitchen, y/n," Mingi said, and Hannah giggled, making you realize he'd had to say it twice.

"Oh, thanks," you nearly blushed, chuckling at your own lost thoughts. It had been a long, long time you'd been to a party with more than thirty people in attendance, and suddenly you realized you did miss this, even if you felt like you shouldn't anymore.

You squeezed Hannah's hand, then started snaking your way through the house, through the throng of people chatting and dancing in the living room. You had to bump past two tight groups of friends, all dancing and laughing and nearly spilling their drinks on each other, and the last time you did the girl turned around, eyes wide with apology.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" she said, grabbing onto your forearm briefly to steady herself. "I didn't see you there, you're so short!" Her words slightly slurred together, and her cheeks were the pinkish red that always accompanied a pale girl with one too many shots in her. It wasn't even that late yet; but you'd met this girl before, had a thousand conversations with her. You held back your laughter, as you always did, but couldn't help finding the whole thing adorably hilarious.

"You're good, it's fine," you said, making to talk past her again, but her arm didn't leave yours.

"You're so pretty by the way! And adorable! I meant you're short in a good way!"

There it was. The thing you missed most about running into random girls at parties, the way they shamelessly complimented you within an inch of your life if they'd had enough to drink.

"Oh, stop, you're so sweet!" you called back, leaning in to give her a quick hug. "Your dress looks stunning on you, by the way." Her hips were hugged by a dark blue satin number, which balanced against her pale hair and pale skin so beautifully.

"You should come dance with us once you get a drink!" she said, a huge smile breaking across her face as her friends all agreed, more of them shooting compliments your way.

"Definitely, I will!" you called, but just then the music swelled, and you couldn't hear each other as well, and maybe you were a little thankful for it. You bid her and her group goodbye, finally making it across to the kitchen. You peaked your head back a moment, catching Hannah's eye, Mingi's face low and next to her's as he obviously whispered something in her ear. You could see her cheeks redden even from across the room, and she winked at you quickly, before turning back around to him to respond.

Already you felt drawn into it all, and you hadn't seen him yet. You might go and dance with those girls later, you might not. You had no idea where this night would take you. R&B played through the speakers in their living room, and your hips swung on their own accord, the beat too groovy to ignore. You watched on for a moment as Mingi and Hannah got lost in each other, then turned towards the kitchen again, getting lost in a sight of your own.

There he was, just as Mingi said. In the kitchen, an arm outstretched above his head as he grabbed a stack of glasses from the highest shelf of their cabinets. His black tank left the muscles in his arm exposed; you could see his shoulder flex as he reached high, his bicep bulge as he brought the glasses down, balancing the heavy stack. There were two guys behind him, and one by one he poured them glasses of wine, each of them taking two as they exited the kitchen.

He still hadn't seen you, but you couldn't stop staring. As he leaned down into the open door of the fridge you caught the muscles in his back flex, and now you saw the tight black jeans he was wearing, his thighs on full display for your hungry eyes. On his feet were his black sneakers, ones you'd seen plenty of times, his favorite shoes. And just then as he stood up he caught sight of you finally, doing a subtle double take as he set down the beer he'd just grabbed on the counter.

"Hannah's little friend is here," you said as you finally walked closer, coming to rest your hip against the counter he was standing at, a few feet down from him. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, a tiny smile forming on his full lips, as he looked you up and down.

"Hey stranger," he said, cracking open his beer sharply, tossing the bottle cap in the sink. He stood and took a big swig, his opposite hand sliding in his pocket as he leaned back, the bubbles in the bottle fighting for escape. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, watched the way he wiped an extra drop from his lip once the bottle hit the counter again. His skin was almost shiny in the yellow light of the kitchen, and you could swear you could smell the sweat on him, the slightly musky smell making your insides flip more than once. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Got anything non-alcoholic?" you asked, already laughing at the question. His face screwed up in hesitance for a second, but then he turned to open the fridge again, peering through the shelves of beer and seltzers and random leftovers.

"Water?" he asked as he stood and closed the door, looking at you incredulously.

"That's fine, that sounds good," you chuckled.

"You want ice?" he asked, peering at you sideways, taking another quick swig of his beer.

"Sure, thanks," you breathed, so caught up in the sight of him, in his broad shoulders and chest just feet from you. You got to see his beautiful left arm again as he reached up for a glass, and he noticed every bit of you staring; he looked back over his shoulder as he filled your glass from the fridge door, catching your wide eyed gaze and making you feel caught out.

"So why haven't I seen you in three weeks?" he asked as he handed you the glass, your fingers brushing over each other for a moment. Against the ice-cold glass his fingers felt electric, your whole arm coming alive under his touch.

"What do you mean?" you responded, looking up at him as you took a sip, eyes trained on him.

"Hannah's been over every weekend," he answered, and you tilted your head again, your question still unanswered. "I though you two were kind of a package deal."

"We don't go everywhere together," you answered, rolling your eyes at him. "We're not that co-dependent. Plus, you know, her and Mingi..." You gestured with your hands, as if they could speak for you.

"Her and Mingi what?"

"They're dating, of course she's over here every weekend," you said. He just hummed in response, giving you an unreadable look. "What?" you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

"I told you to come with her, whenever you felt like it," he continued, taking another long drag of his beer.

"I've been busy," you shot back, not sure why it felt like he was probing, but enjoying the chance to play fight a little, if that's what he wanted.

"Oh really?" he eyed you, eyebrows raised. A mischievous glint ran through the deep brown of his irises, and it made you shiver in your tiny dress.

"I am studying literature, I do have to actually read a lot," you said, drawing out the syllables in the word.

"Ah, I see, I had no idea," he drawled back, rolling his eyes at you.

"I think you might relate to that, mister," you answered, looking up at him with innocent sincerity.

"Of course I do, history is basically all reading," he responded, eyeing you. "But Saturday nights are my time off, to relax."

"How responsible of you," you joked.

"You should try it sometime."

"What, relaxing?" you asked, and he nodded his head. "Do I not seem relaxed?"

"Tonight you do," he chuckled, eyeing you up and down again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, arms crossing over your chest. You could see his eyes dart down for a moment, knowing the position was pushing your tits up even higher and making them nearly fall out of your tiny ensemble.

"Last time you didn't seem, you know, like this," he said, eyes coming back up to meet yours.

"Why, cause my dress didn't leave nothing to the imagination?"

He nearly spit out his drink, laughing at that. "No, cause you left so early."

"Cause I had work to do. And you just walked away, so..." you trailed off, now eyeing him with confusion.

"I told you I'd talk to you later, I had to help Jongho with something," he said.

"Yeah, and that doesn't at all sound like an excuse to walk away," you retorted, rolling your eyes again.

"Woah," he said, a soft look of genuine shock on your face. Maybe that last sentence had come out a little harsher than you'd meant it to, but you couldn't deny that it was disappointing when he'd done that. You'd told yourself that day it was just how things go. You wouldn't always get the person, even if they seemed definitely, totally into you.

As your thoughts wandered, Yunho kept his eye contact, even as a fellow partier stumbled through the kitchen to grab a seltzer form the fridge, nearly bumping into the two of you. You watched as they left the kitchen, a short sigh escaping your lips without you meaning for it to. As you met Yunho's eyes again he was still staring, still fixed on you so sharply.

"What?" you asked.

"You look really good in black," he said, smirk hitting his lips as he took another sip from his drink.

"Oh my god," you chuckled, shaking your head, but deep down all you could think was so do you.

"Let's stop arguing and go dance," he said, lifting up your glass of water to you, gently turning your shoulders with his hands and pushing you in the direction of the living room. You resisted, a little; you could't help it, and it made him laugh, that deep, sweet sound echoing in your ear as he pushed you just slightly harder.

<><><><><><><><><>

It had been too long since you were squeezed in the middle of too many dancing bodies, smashed between people you barely knew.

As the night turned darker the boys turned up the music, the playlist changing to more hip hop and pop, the whole room lighting up with singing and rapping and cheers. You were smashed between Yunho and Hannah, and another girl whose name you couldn't hear over the music, even as she screamed it at you. It didn't take long for Yunho's hands to find your hips, or your hands to find his arms, his chest, his stomach.

You couldn't keep them off of him. Not when you were pressed together and you really had no other choice. You were thankful for your water then; the room was hot and sweaty with so many bodies in close quarters, and the heat of Yunho's body against yours was doing nothing to help the sheen forming on every inch of your skin.

It was magical, just what you needed. You had missed this, you really had. You kept reaching out to your best friend, singing and dancing and screaming with her, hoping she understood that really what you were saying was thank you, thank you, thank you so freaking much.

It was intoxicating, but there was something missing; you hated to admit it, but thrashing about in a group of people just wasn't the same without a little buzz. You didn't need much, but the slight light headedness and warmth in your chest that always accompanied a drink or two was just the thing to take a night like this from great to amazing. You knew you'd need to sneak out of the sea of bodies soon, and head back to the kitchen to find something good. But you'd wait till this song was over, wait until the bodies weren't so chaotic in their movement.

But then you stared up, at the high cheeks in front of you, at the deep chocolate eyes and dirty blonde hair, and had another idea. As he raised his beer to his lips you reached up to grab it, and in the shock of the moment you were able to snatch it away too easily. You brought it down to your level, taking a deep swig of it, the taste more bitter and sharp than you were expecting. But it was not unpleasant; if you had to guess it was a nice beer of some kind, not something cheap and flimsy.

"Hey, I thought you didn't want any alcohol!" Yunho called down to you, trying to reach for it.

"I do now!" you yelled back, smirk on your lips as you took another long sip.

"Hey, hey, that's the last bottle of the nice German beer my uncle got for me, y/n-"

But you cut him off, spinning in an instant and making a run for it, wanting nothing more than to finish this precious beer right in front of his eyes, and see what he'd do about it. It was a challenge pushing through the crowd, but you were at an advantage; you were quite small, and could duck under raised arms and flailing drinks. Behind you Yunho didn't fare so well, his height a massive disadvantage in this moment.

Once you broke free of the crowd you found yourself near the front door again, and with nowhere else to run you made for the stairs. Your platform shoes weighed heavy on your feet as you climbed, but the adrenaline coursing through you did wonders to propel you up the stairs, your breath barely affected as you crested the top. You could hear heavy footsteps behind you now, and you shrieked in terror, a deep laugh drifting up through the air behind you. Suddenly you found yourself somewhere you'd never been before, and unsure of where to go next you just kept running, a bit down the hallway stretching out in front of you.

He was closing in now, you could feel it, but you were having too much fun with the chase to let this go. A door to your left was ajar, and on a whim you decided to run through it, knowing full well it was probably a dead end. As you busted in you realized it was the upstairs bathroom, your hand met with the cold tile countertop by the sink. You spun and braced for impact, taking the beer again to your lips to try to finish it all, savor every last bit of it.

"Fuck you," Yunho grumbled as he stumbled in after you, shaking his head and grabbing the beer from you with ease, this time. You hadn't managed to finish it; instead he was the one to do so, with a long and drawn out swig and multiple glugs, his gorgeous neck out in full display for you. A nightlight sat in the corner and bathed you both in a soft purple light, and in the shadows you could see every crease and line in his shoulders, his muscles looking even more defined. With a final glug he slammed the beer on the counter beside you, suddenly caging you in with his arms, his face now only inches from yours.

And even though a part of you was nervous, trembling under his gaze, you couldn't help but smile and giggle up at him, the frustration in his eyes doing nothing but turning you on further.

"Did you want to fight, tonight?" he laughed, eyes boring into yours as he refused to move, even though you squirmed beneath him.

"I don't think so," you laughed, giving him your best innocent eyes, biting your lip between your teeth.

"You're so weird," he chuckled, finally breaking, stepping back up and away from you with a shake of his head.

"I'm not the one who wore a black tank top to a fancy party," you shot back, eyes snaking down the entirety of his form in front of you.

"Oh, you think I look bad?" he joked, his tone thick with sarcasm.

"I didn't say that. Just a surprising choice," you responded, raising your shoulders ever so slightly.

"I just got back from the gym and people were already showing up, I didn't really have time to change much," he shot back, arms crossing over his chest this time.

"Oh wow, the gym," your responded, mouth opening as you feigned amazement.

"You should come with me sometime," he said, adjusting his stance.

"Why, so you can stare at my ass while I do squats?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"You..." he trailed off, shaking his head as his hands came up to his hair, running through them quickly.

"What?" you asked, anchoring your hands behind you on the counter, staring up hard at the tall man in front of you.

"What do you want?" he asked, head cocked to the side, his tone dropping some.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to kiss you? Or are you mad at me?" he asked.

"Can you really not tell?" you responded, batting your eyelashes up at him and pushing your chest out, your back arching off the counter slightly.

"Fuck," he muttered, and in an instant the door to the bathroom was closed tight, and he was stalking over to you with a harshness in his gaze that you weren't expecting.

You couldn't have prepared yourself for how it would feel, his soft, full lips on yours, his huge hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Immediately you were arching into him, pulling hard at his arms and abdomen, begging him to come closer and smother you with all the lust and warmth he had. His breath was hot in your mouth, making the rest of you feel cold and needy, and your body trembled beneath him, your movements growing more deperate. He deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping through your mouth as his hands lowered, digging now into the flesh of your hips and ass, his own hips now flush with your center as you shameless ground around one of his legs. He reached down and pulled you up, sitting you not he counter in front of him, your back flush with the cold mirror behind. HIs hand came to cradle the back of your head, his mouth devouring yours as he nipped at your lower lip, pulling back to start sucking marks into your neck and leaving you a panting mess.

You raked your hands through his soft hair, the salt on your skin tasting wonderful as he worked his way down, brushing his tongue along your collar bone and making you moan in response. You could already feel yourself soaking your dress; you had no thought of the consequences now, his thumbs brushing over your already erect nipples that now pushed against the thin material of your dress.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he groaned as he pulled back front you, watching your body writhe underneath his touch, his hips humping into yours to try to relieve some of the strain in his pants. "You promise me you'll tell me if you don't like anything?" he asked, nearly panting out the words.

"Of course," you managed beneath him, blinking open your heavy eyes to meet his. "Do everything to me, please?" you begged, already so lust filled you couldn't think straight.

"You sure, baby?" he chuckled in response, watching a small bashful smile form on your lips, the sealing indication that you truly meant what you just said.

"Come here," he said, pulling back his hands from your chest, your body nearly limp from all the stimulation. He pulled you down from the counter again, and just when you thought he would kiss you again, he turned you around, pressing on your lower back to make you arch, forcing you to place your forearms on the counter. You were now face to face with yourself, and could see everything; your eyeliner was smudged, your lipstick smeared from the kiss, and your hair was even curlier than you'd remembered it being when you left your place a few hours ago.

You looked a mess, that was certain. Like someone about to get fucked in the bathroom of a house she barely knew. And that turned you on even more, seeing the greedy, selfish look in your eye, knowing you were finally getting what you'd really wanted these last three weeks.

"Of course, no panties," Yunho chuckled from behind you, using his hands to hike up the bottom of your dress and pull your ass into view.

"Oops," you laughed below him, finally looking up from your own face to watch him in the mirror, his eyes locked down and full of an intensity you'd never seen before. God, you fucking loved that black tank on him, loved seeing his shoulders flex while kneaded the flesh of your ass, his face hard and focused. And then he finally moved his right hand lower, tracing his fingers around your slit before pushing one in you, the pleasure crashing through you in an instant.

"Fuck," you moaned, eyes rolling back as you tried to keep holding yourself up.

"You like that?" Yunho asked, his eyes now trained on your face in the mirror, the pure bliss emanating from your open mouth.

"Yeah, fuck, yeah," you moaned again, his finger now moving in and out slowly, his other hand still anchored on your back and keeping you in place.

"You want more?" he asked, and you nodded furiously, your breath so deep and fast now that you could barely answer him. He slid in another finger, and then another; you could feel the stretch, your cunt swallowing his long fingers with a hunger you couldn't explain. You just knew when you'd first seen those hands that they'd feel good buried inside you, but now that you were here you couldn't believe what you were feeling. He was better than anyone you'd ever been with, his fingers curling inside you in just the right way to have you trembling and coming in just minutes.

You moaned loudly, pussy clenching hard around him, and Yunho watched with near disbelief as he saw the muscles of your cunt fluttering, your tight hole above it staring him in the face. "Did you come already?" he asked, and you could only whisper a quick yeah in response, the aftershocks still wracking through you. "Fuck, you're so sensitive," he groaned, hips bucking into your leg as his cock grew more and more painfully erect in his tight pants.

As the fluttering in your cunt slowed he pulled his fingers out, now drenched in your juices and glistening in the soft light of the bathroom. He couldn't keep himself from running them over the tight ring of muscle above, your body immediately nearly folding at the contact. It felt too good, your ass getting rubbed just after you'd come so hard, and you nearly collapsed onto the counter in front of you, your head hanging lax as you moaned.

"You like getting your ass touched?" Yunho said behind you, watching the way the muscles of your ass and thighs clenched as he kept rubbing in small circled, smearing your slick all over you.

"Yes, more, please," you begged beneath him, shoving your lower half further in his direction, arching your back even more. "Please, both, ahh," you moaned, as he tested the waters with one finger, pushing it into the tight ring of muscle.

"You want me to fuck both your holes?" he asked, and again you could barely get out an emphatic and breathy yeah, your moaning increasing again as he pushed the finger in, your ass having to stretch to accommodate it.

"Fuck, you're so dirty," he groaned, using the slick from your cunt to fuck his finger in your ass, slowly picking up his pace again. He experimentally added another finger, and the stretch was excruciating; the pleasure and pain swirled around each other, making you cry out, your body trying to reject the added pressure. "You can take baby, I know you can," Yunho chided behind you, his free hand coming to unbotton and unzip his pants, pulling his boxers down just enough to pull out his hard and leaking cock, it's weight hot in his hand.

Finally your body relented, letting the two fingers split open your tight hole, and your wails turned more towards just moans. You felt a tug on your hair; Yunho pulled your head back, making you face the mirror again, your face even more flushed and messy than it was all those minutes ago.

"I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you, okay?" he asked you, but you knew it was more of a command than anything. Yes, you answered him, the pain and pleasure from your asshole clouding your brain entirely and making you pliant underneath his touch. Then he sheathed himself, his huge cock bottoming out inside your still soaking cunt, and you just about blacked out from the pleasure, your mind flying high off into space.

"God, fuck, you feel so good," Yunho groaned behind you, pumping his hips hard and fast, his fingers matching his pace. He'd waited three long weeks to see you again, and couldn't force himself to wait any longer to chase his pleasure. He fucked you hard, the slapping of skin filling the room as he pounded into you, watching your cunt and your asshole getting filled over and over. You did as you were told, keeping your head up, but you couldn't have seen a thing if you tried, your brain so utterly fucked that your eyes could do nothing but hang heavy and low. The whole room was a haze; Yunho could see it, how you'd gone to a whole different plane of pleasure, how you were loving how rough and domineering he was being. The fucked out look on your face was almost too much for him to handle; and then when your cunt starting clenching down on him again, he couldn't stop himself. He came hard, just as you did, the two of you trembling together in your immense pleasure. Slowly you felt his hot cum filling you up, his fingers slipping out of your ass so he could grip onto your hips with both hands, burying his cock as deep as it could go.

<><><><><><><><><>

As you finally stumbled your way back down the stairs, you knew you looked crazy.

You'd tried what you could to fix your hair and makeup, but even with Yunho's help you looked an obvious mess. Maybe it should have bothered you, but you couldn't help not caring as you walked back down to the party, Yunho's hand on your low back as he walked beside you.

"There you are!" Hannah called to you, snaking her way through the now thinner crowd of people. "I thought I might have lost you," she said, draping arms around you, the smell of something sweet on her breath.

"Just upstairs," you responded, fighting the smile forming on your lips.

"Hey, guess what?" she asked, pulling away, still keeping an arm around you.

"Hmm?"

"My period started," she sighed dramatically, head hitting your shoulder.

"Oh my god, I knew it," you laughed in response, falling into her.

"Thank god I brought those tampons," she laughed, head lolling back up to it's normal position.

"Hey, guess what?" you now said, eyes wide.

"What?"

You leaned in close, hand coming up to cover your mouth. "We just fucked," you whispered, the two of you falling into giggles immediately.

"Oh my god, yayyyyyy!!" your best friend responded, jumping up and dancing in a circle, grabbing your hands to pull you into her dance, too.

It wasn't long until you all cleared out, the night growing very dark and late and your bodies growing tired. You'd had everything you'd missed tonight; the partying, the fun, the sex. But most of all you had the best night cap ever with your bestie, recapping everything to her, minute by minute, till you both could barely speak anymore and fell asleep on the living room floor.

[doll3scent]

★ Pornstar 5 ★

John Price x Cam girl! reader

warnings- 18+ -mdni, jealousy, alcohol, smut, explicit language, somnophilia, choking, angst w/ comfort,

wc. 6k

a/n. this took me forever

4, 5, 6,

master list 𓂃۶ৎ

Ghost had mentioned bringing his team along for your birthday. You and your friends had planned a night out clubbing, and you figured it was only fair to let him invite his mates—no sense in leaving him stuck with a crowd of twenty-somethings all night on his own.

You and John had been texting and meeting up a few more times since that first night. Each encounter carried the same charged secrecy—you kept your mask on, and he played along, pretending he didn’t know exactly who you were.

John feels the weight of guilt every time he interacts with Ghost, especially now that they’re back at base. He can barely look Simon in the eyes anymore, the guilt weighing down on him like a ton of bricks. He knows he’s betraying his friend, and he hates himself for it. But he can’t bring himself to stop seeing you. He’s addicted to you, to the sound of your voice, the feel of your body pressed against his…

John keeps telling himself he’ll end it, that it’s the right thing to do—but he can’t. He’s wanted you for too long. He spent months watching your cam streams, craving what he couldn’t have, and now that you’re his—truly his—he refuses to let go. Especially when you meet up, when the heat of passion fades, and you curl up in his arms afterward. You slip off your mask, resting your head against his chest, trusting him with one condition: he can hold you, but only if he promises not to look. And he never does—he wouldn’t dare break the fragile trust between you.

But the guilt gnaws at him. Every time John sees Ghost, he’s reminded of his betrayal. He’s been keeping this secret from his best mate, lying right to his face. And he knows that someday, this whole thing is going to explode in the worst possible way.

One day on base, as the team was gathered around after a long mission, Ghost cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

“Right, listen up,” he began, his voice steady but with a hint of annoyance. “My sister’s birthday is coming up, and she’s dragging me to a club. You lot can come if you want, I’m not about to spend the night stuck with a bunch of half-naked 20-year-olds who can barely hold their liquor.”

A few of the team members exchanged amused glances. Soap raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sounds like you need some backup, mate,” he teased.

Ghost shot him a flat look, though there was a slight curve to his lips. “Exactly. Don’t want to be the only old man there with no one to talk to, do I?”

Price leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What’s the plan? We just show up and blend in?”

“Pretty much,” Ghost said with a shrug. “It’s not my ideal night, but it’s for her, so…”

“Hey, if you’re buying, I’m in,” Gaz said, leaning forward with a grin.

Soap snorted. “Buyin’? Please, Ghost probably still thinks a pint costs a fiver.” Ghost shoots him a glare.

John was torn. On one hand, the idea of seeing you gnawed at him—he missed those stolen moments, the secrecy, and the way you felt when you were close. But there was a problem: you still didn’t know that he knew exactly who you were. You kept your distance, acting like he was just some stranger to you, and it killed him.

On the other hand, the thought of being in the same place as you and Ghost, all three of you in close proximity, felt like a ticking time bomb. The guilt, the risk—it was too much. But if he didn’t show up to the club, it would look suspicious. He couldn’t afford that.

Ghost’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. “You coming, Price?”

Price glanced up, meeting Ghost’s gaze. For a moment, he pondered saying no, finding an excuse to skip out. But he knew that would only arouse suspicion. And so he sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come.”

The night of, Price stood in front of the mirror in his room, feeling nervous as he checked his outfit one last time. He tried on a couple different shirts before finally settling on a dark grey button-up and a pair of black jeans. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning at his reflection. For some reason, he felt a strange mixture of anxious and excited. Maybe it was the thought of seeing you or the nerves about pretending he didn’t know who you were. Either way, he took a deep breath and steeled himself.

John stood at the bar with the team, his drink in hand, but his mind was elsewhere. Soap and Gaz were already in the thick of it, eyeing passing girls with shameless grins, their attempts at flirting fluctuating between mildly charming and painfully awkward.

Soap, always the loud one, had just cracked a joke that made a girl giggle-though John couldn't tell if it was from genuine interest or sheer pity. Gaz wasn't much better, leaning in with a smirk, dropping some line that sounded more rehearsed than spontaneous. John nursed a beer, his attention only half-heartedly on the women around him.

“Where’s the birthday girl?” Soap called out to Ghost.

Ghost took a swig of his drink before replying, “She’s always late, wouldn’t be like her if she was on time”. He rolled his eyes but there was a hint of affection in his voice.

A group of girls entered the bar, their laughter ringing out and instantly grabbing the attention of everyone nearby. They wore the skimpiest of dresses, skirts, and shirts—everything designed to make heads turn, and turn they did. Wolf whistles followed them as they made their way through the crowd, including from Soap and Gaz, who were both quick to take notice.

Price couldn’t help but look too, his gaze almost drawn to them instinctively. But then, his eyes locked onto you. His heart skipped a beat, suddenly lodged somewhere in his throat. His grip around his beer tightened, knuckles whitening as he processed the sight before him.

You were standing there, a vision in the crowd. Your outfit hit him like a punch to the gut—like you’d intentionally gone out and found the tiniest pink skirt, slashed it in half, then paired it with a matching corset top that left little to the imagination. Your white patterned stockings and pink heels completed the look, and Price’s stomach twisted with something he couldn’t quite name. His mind raced, trying to pull himself together. It felt like everything in the room had faded away, and all that mattered was the sight of you—so close, so real. And yet, still so far out of reach.

You pranced up to your brother, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug before quickly greeting the rest of his team with a few more hugs. When it was John’s turn, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The moment your arms encircled him, John froze. Every instinct in him screamed to hold you closer, to pull you tight against him, to inhale your scent that lingered on his skin. But he forced himself to stay still, his body rigid as he struggled to keep his composure. His mind raced, trying to focus on anything other than the heat of your body against his.

“Uh—Happy birthday, kid,” he managed, his voice tight, strained as he patted your back awkwardly. He kept his eyes averted, though they betrayed him, roaming over you, taking in every detail of your outfit. His heart hammered in his chest as his mind locked on how little you were wearing. The fabric of your skirt, the curve of your corset top, it all felt like too much—too much for him to handle in this moment. But you, blissfully unaware of his internal battle, pulled back with a smile, completely oblivious to the storm you’d just stirred inside him.

You smile sweetly, batting your lashes up at him in that innocent way you always did, the one that made his stomach twist with something he couldn’t name. “Thank you,” you say, your voice light and playful, unaware of the effect it’s having on him.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach the instant his arms wrapped around you, his warmth seeping into you and making your pulse quicken. The scent of him, so familiar and comforting, only heightened the rush of emotions flooding your senses. You couldn't stop your mind from drifting to the other night-the way his hands had explored your body with such deliberate confidence, every touch igniting something deep inside you.

The memory sent a delicious shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as you unconsciously leaned into his embrace, unable to resist the pull he had over you. He desperately wanted to hold you tighter, to pull you even closer, but he couldn't. Not here, not with Ghost right there, oblivious to the fact that his best friend was secretly sleeping with his younger sister.

Instead, he pulled away reluctantly, forcing a smile onto his face. “You, uh…you look nice,” he murmured. But the words felt hollow in his mouth, inadequate to describe just how beautiful you looked.

You smile softly, your cheeks warming as you thank him sweetly when he says you look nice. He seems so different than usual—nervous and cautious, a far cry from the commanding presence he has with you in private. It’s almost endearing, seeing this side of him, though you can’t blame him. He doesn’t know it’s you he’s been with, the person he’s been pouring his desires into. To him, you’re just another stranger, someone he feels freer with than someone from his real life.

Later in the night, after several rounds of drinks and conversations, your friend group led you to the dance floor, the music loud and vibrant. You and your friends all danced together, laughing and twirling in the rhythm. As the music vibrated through the floor, Price leaned against the wall, half hidden in the shadows, watching you dance with the others, a pang of desire and guilt twisting his stomach.

The music pounded through the walls of the club, the lights illuminating you in a kaleidoscope of colors as you danced with your friends. Price couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching closely as you swayed your hips in time with the music, your movements fluid and captivating. He could feel the desire welling up inside him, his heart hammering against his chest, but he forced himself to stay put. He was playing a dangerous game, and he couldn’t let anyone find out.

He watched as your friends pulled you further into the fray, each of them laughing and smiling, completely unaware of the tension he was feeling. Despite the noise and the chaos, he could only focus on you, the way your body moved, the way your hair fell across your face, the way your skirt rode up slightly as you twisted and turned. His hands ached to touch you, to pull you to him and feel your body pressed against his.

Price tensed as he saw a man approaching you, his eyes narrowing as he observed him. The man looked closer to your age, but still older than you, and the way he looked at you made Price’s stomach churn. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool while his mind raced with thoughts of what this stranger could possibly want with you.

As he watched, the man leaned in and yelled something into your ear, trying to be heard over the music. You responded with a wide smile, nodding at whatever he said, and the sight sent a wave of jealousy through Price. His hands curled into fists, his possessive tendencies taking over as he watched the two of you talk.

The man then reached out and placed his hand on your hip, pulling you a little closer to him as he continued talking into your ear. Price’s jaw was in danger of snapping with how hard he was clenching it. He wanted nothing more than to march over there and rip that man’s hand off of you. But he couldn’t.

As you moved to the rhythm of the music, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt in the back of your mind. The man beside you was all smiles, clearly enjoying the moment as you danced and flirted with him, but something nagged at you. You knew it wasn’t right—flirting with someone else when your thoughts were still tangled with John. But then, you reminded yourself: John doesn’t know the cam girl he’s been so captivated by is you. It felt like a small comfort, a boundary you could convince yourself to cross just this once.

It wasn’t like you could openly flirt with your older brother’s captain—especially not in front of him. That was a line you wouldn’t dare cross. Tonight was yours, though. It was your birthday, and you decided you were entitled to a little fun, a little freedom from all the complicated emotions and secrets you were carrying. You pushed the nagging thoughts aside, choosing to focus on the present. The lights, the music, the laughter—it was all a release. For tonight, you could let go.

Price couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Every move you made, every laugh you shared with that man, felt like a knife twisted in his gut. He had no claim on you, he knew that, but the sight of you with another man still sent a surge of jealousy and possessiveness through him.

He took another deep breath, trying to control his breathing, trying to control his emotions. But his mind was filled with thoughts of you and him, the way your body fit against his, the way you cried out for him.

As the night drew to a close, the man next to you, the one who had been flirting with you all night, finally gathered the courage to ask for your number. He leaned in close, his voice slightly slurred with alcohol, as he shouted over the music, “Can I get your number? I really want to see you again.”

Price observed as you giggled, the sound hitting his ears like a physical blow. He felt his heart sink as you reached into your small purse and scribbled your number on a napkin before handing it to the man. He couldn’t stand it, the sight of you giving your number to someone else, not after everything you’d shared together. He had no right to stop you, no right to say anything, but it didn’t make the sight any less painful.

It’s late, past 1am, and you’re sound asleep, wrapped in the comfort of your blankets. Suddenly, your phone rings, jolting you awake. Groggy and disoriented, you fumble for your phone, only to see a number you don’t recognize displayed on the screen. Your heart skips a beat as you answer the call.

“..Hello?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

He grits his teeth, the surge of anger coursing through him, and forces himself to breathe deeply. His fingers curl into fists, but he knows he has to control it—he can’t let you see how badly this is eating at him. You don’t know that he knows who you are, and that’s what he keeps telling himself as the fury swells inside him. He tries to steady his pulse, focusing on the need to stay composed, to not give away how badly he wants to confront everything that’s been eating at him.

The temptation to ask you directly what the hell is going on, to demand answers, is almost unbearable. But he doesn’t. Instead, his voice comes out calm, controlled, though every muscle in his body is tense with the desire to let his anger out.

“Do you want to meet up tonight?” His words feel like they hang in the air between you, and he watches for your response, trying to push past the storm inside him, desperate for some kind of answer.

“Okay” your rub the sleep out of your eyes “I’ll leave the front door unlocked”

His breath hitches slightly at your words, and for a moment, he almost regrets it. But then he reminds himself that this is the only way forward. He needs to see you, to feel that pull again, even if it’s tangled with complications he hasn’t fully worked through yet. “Good,” he mutters, his voice a little rougher than he intends. “I’ll be there soon.”

The call ends abruptly, and as you sit there, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your eyes, the weight of what’s about to happen starts to settle in. You don’t even acknowledge the fact of how he could’ve gotten your number. You know it’s dangerous, know it’s a risk, but your body hums with anticipation. He’s coming. And whatever this thing between you is, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated. You sit up brushing your hair down, your tie your mask on before sitting on your bed, you then lay down planning on just waiting for John but you promptly fall back asleep.

When John arrives at your house, the night air is cool against his skin, but the anticipation burning in his chest keeps him warm. He stands for a moment at your door, fingers hovering just above the handle. His mind races—thoughts swirling between desire and the heavy weight of the situation. He has no idea how this will go, but he’s already too far gone to turn back now.

He enters silently, closing the door behind him and stepping carefully into the darkened house. The only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. He can see the soft glow of your bedside lamp peeking through the crack in your door.

He creeps toward your bedroom, finding you curled up in bed, your soft breaths steady and slow. The sight of you, peaceful and unaware of his presence, gives him pause. He watches you for a moment, unsure if he should wake you or just let you sleep. His heart aches at the thought of interrupting your rest, but his body aches with need, the tension in his muscles undeniable.

Gently, he steps closer to the edge of the bed, his eyes tracing the outline of your body beneath the covers. He swallows hard, trying to calm the growing fire inside him. He silently climbs onto the bed between your legs, your sleepy whimpers making his cock harden instantly. “My little girl thinks she can flirt with others and still keep her mask on with me? Not fucking happening." He enters your wet pussy slowly, knowing you’ll wake up to his invasion, without your mask on.

"I saw you, little girl. Flirting with that man like you were some kind of whore." He fucks you harder, his hands gripping your hips painfully. "You're mine, and only mine. No one else gets to see that face or hear those sweet moans." his hands move to your mask, yanking it off without hesitation this time. “I’m done with this fucking mask. I want to see every expression on your face while I fuck you senseless."

"Mmph..." You stir softly, your body automatically arching back as his slow, deep thrusts send waves of pleasure through your sleepy body. You’re large doe eyes flutter open, taking a second to realize what's happening. "Mmh... " he pulls your legs up high onto his shoulders, deepening his thrusts and forcing you to look at him as he stares intensely into you unmasked face. "Who's bed is this? Who's arms are you supposed to be sleeping in?" His voice is low, almost a growl, pulling you from the haze of sleep.

You blink slowly, still groggy, his words swirling in your mind as you try to piece them together. “…Yours,” you mumble softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stir awake, the warmth of his presence settling over you. He continues rhythmically thrusting, pulling you closer and covering your mouth with his own, one hand firmly holding the back of your neck to keep you in place. “Mmph..." The kiss deepens, passionate and claiming - not allowing you to speak or register that your mask is gone.

He hooks your legs around his waist, changing the angle. His thick length hits you deep spots, making you moan softly and arch your back. "Baby..." He pulls back an inch to look at you again. Your lips are swollen from his kiss, your eyes half-lidded with sleep and pleasure. He slides a hand down to your side, possessively grabbing one of your thighs. He Spreads your legs wider, watching himself slide in and out of your tight heat. He's unconsciously addicted to the view.

"You're so fucking tight and wet for me, baby girl." He growls, his voice low and husky as he increases Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, his words sending a shiver down your spine. He smirks, his lips finding yours again, this time softer, slower, but no less consuming. his pace. His hand on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your soft skin. “I could stay buried in this little pussy all day."

"You know what I love most?" He asks in a hushed whisper, slowing his hips again to tease you. “Watching your face when I hit this sweet spot just right." He purposely angles himself to rub against your G-spot, making you whimper softly. “But fuck..."

His mind flashes back to earlier that night, seeing you laughing and smiling at that man. He can feel his anger building, his body tensing as he remembers. He pulls out slightly, his hands gripping your thighs painfully. “But you know what i didn’t love?” he wraps his hand around your throat. “Seeing you prance around with that man” he squeezes

"You think you can just flirt with other men and ignore me? You think you can wear a mask and pretend to be mine, but then go out there and act like a fucking whore?" He spits out the words, his voice cold and angry as he pushes your legs wider apart. His eyes darken dangerously as one hand wraps around your throat, applying gentle pressure. He continues thrusting roughly, using his superior strength to hold you down. “You want another man's cock that badly?" He growls, tightening his grip slightly more. “Fucking answer me."

His hand on your throat squeezes just a bit more, cutting off your airflow completely. You can only manage a weak, muffled "n-no" before he finally releases his grip, allowing you to gasp for air. “Good” He hisses, resuming his rough fucking.

Your mind spins, wild and frantic, as his words tear through the air between you. The sharp edge of his tone cuts deep, each syllable laced with anger, jealousy, and something far more possessive than you'd ever anticipated. "You think I didn't know?" he growls, his hips snapping forward with a force that leaves you gasping. "Think I wouldn't recognize you, even with that little mask on? I've always known, Angel."

The weight of his confession crashes over you, leaving you breathless and disoriented. He's always known. Every time he spoke your name in that low, commanding tone, every filthy word he growled through the screen— he knew it was you. The realization sends a flood of heat through your body, but it's quickly overshadowed by the intensity of his thrusts, each one driving his frustration and jealousy into you. “And tonight," he continues, his voice rough and unforgiving, "you really thought l'd stand there and watch you let another man put his hands on you? Let him look at you like he had a chance?"

"I didn't-" you try to explain, your voice shaky, but he cuts you off with another harsh thrust, his grip on your hips bruising as he holds you in place beneath him.

"Don't lie to me," he snaps, his dark eyes boring into yours as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "I saw you, Angel. Saw you dancing, letting him get close to what's mine." His words hit you like a physical blow, a dizzying mix of shame and arousal surging through your veins. You can feel his anger in the way he moves, in the unrelenting pace of his thrusts, as though he's determined to erase the memory of anyone else from your mind and body.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, "and don't you dare forget it." His hand slides up to your throat, his grip firm but controlled as he forces you to look at him. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, a storm of emotions that leaves you speechless.

"I've been patient," he says, his tone rough and filled with barely restrained fury. "I let you keep your little secret, let you play your games. But now?" He thrusts into you harder, pulling a broken gasp from your lips. "Now, you don't get to pretend anymore. I know exactly who you are, and you're not going anywhere."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, your body trembling as you struggle to process everything. He's always known, and yet he let you believe you were in control, let you think you were safe behind your mask. But now, there's no hiding, no escaping the truth-or him. “Say it," he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your pulse race. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whisper, your voice barely audible as his dominance consumes you completely. "Good," he growls, his lips brushing against your ear as his pace quickens. "Because I'm going to make damn sure you never forget it again." He feels a savage satisfaction at your whispered acknowledgment, his grip loosening slightly on your throat as he continues his brutal pace. Each forceful thrust is a stake driven into the earth, claiming you utterly. “That's right, Angel. You belong to me. Every fucking inch of you."

His anger still simmers just beneath the surface, His hand releases your throat, moving to caress your cheek “Weeks, Angel. Weeks of wearing that damn mask, keeping your face from me. But you had no problem flashing those pouty lips and batting your eyelashes at that stranger, did you?"

“Im sorry daddy-“

His expression darkens at the apology, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. “Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it, Angel. You thought you could play me for a fool, hide behind a mask and flirt with other men right in front of me."

“I didn’t mean it..”

He cuts you off with a harsh laugh, his free hand reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. "You didn't mean it? You didn't mean to make me jealous, to make me watch you give attention to someone else?"

With a sudden, powerful movement, he flips them over so that you’re now on top, straddling his hips. He sits up, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls you down onto his length with a forceful thrust. "But you know what, Angel?" He smirks wickedly, his hands sliding up your sides to momentarily rest just beneath your breasts. "Maybe I ought to flirt with some women my own age, hm? Show you what it feels like to watch someone else get attention." He leans back slightly, looking up at you with mock consideration.

He chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating through your body as he keeps his relentless rhythm, each thrust leaving you breathless.

The amusement in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, though it's laced with something darker, something possessive.

"Just imagine it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as he arches an eyebrow, his pace never faltering.

"Me, charming some gorgeous, mature woman right in front of these pretty eyes. Someone who'd appreciate a real man— someone who doesn't need games or masks." His words cut through the haze of pleasure and guilt, his deliberate taunt igniting a fiery mix of jealousy and desperation within you.

He's punishing you, making sure you feel the sting of his jealousy just as much as he felt yours.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your mind spinning as he drives into you with purpose, his hips slamming against yours in a rhythm that's as intoxicating as it is punishing. The thought of him with someone else, of him turning his attention away from you, burns hotter than you can bear.

"Is that what you want, Angel?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous as he leans down, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. "Someone else getting what's yours? Watching while I ruin her the way I ruin you?"

You shake your head frantically, your voice trembling as you gasp, "No... no, I don't want that."

His grin widens, wicked and satisfied, as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. "That's what I thought," he says, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, his dominance pressing down on you like a weight you can't escape.

One hand moves up to grip your jaw possessively, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he continues his powerful thrusts. “You should see your face right now, Angel. Those big doe eyes, realizing you fucked up." His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You look like you might cry, sweetheart. Like you might beg me to stay away from those other women." He leans in closer, his breath hot against your mouth.

“i’m sorry daddy..”

His eyes flash with a cold, calculating light as he hears the whispered "daddy." He pulls back slightly, his hands tightening on your jaw and hips. “You're too little, you know that? Too young to keep a man like me interested." You let out a sad whimper.

He smirks cruelly, his hips bucking upwards again. "See, you're making those sad little noises because you think I'm going to leave you for someone older, mature, more... suitable." He punctuates each word with a harsh thrust.

His eyes glitter with a cruel amusement as he watches the anguish play across your face. "Is that what you're afraid of, sweetheart? That I might find someone more woman than girl?" His thumb presses down harder on your lip, forcing it to tremble.

His smirk softens slightly, but the dangerous edge remains in his voice. “Tell me, Angel... would you miss Daddy? Would you miss these hands? This cock?" He deliberately grinds against you, hitting that sensitive spot again. "Or would you find someone else?"

Your eyes widen at his question, a flash of jealousy and possessiveness crossing your features. You clench tightly around him, your arms reaching back to wrap around his neck possessively. “N-no! I only want you, daddy..”

He growls low in his throat, the sound of satisfaction and dominance. His hands tighten on you, fingers digging into soft flesh as he begins to pound into you mercilessly. "Only me, is it? My little Angel, so possessive, so jealous..."

With each powerful thrust, he bounces you on his cock like a rag doll, his massive hands gripping you hips with bruising force. The wet slap of your bodies meeting echoes obscenely through the room along with your tiny squeals. "Fuck, look at you trembling on my dick”

He leans forward, his muscular torso pressing against your bouncing breasts as he growls into your ear. "You've got me fucking wild, you know that? Jealous little thing, clinging to my cock like it's your lifeline."

You shiver at his words, your pussy fluttering and tightening around his length. You turn your head to the side, nuzzling into his neck submissively. "Y-yes, daddy... I'm your jealous little slut... Only yours..."

His eyes roll back slightly as your words send a jolt of pleasure through him. He bites down on your neck, marking you as his, as he continues to rut into you with animalistic abandon. "Fucking right you are..."

Your vision starts to blur as he continues to claim you, his cock pounding into your overstuffed pussy, his teeth marking your skin. Your completely lost in the moment, your mind consumed by the overwhelming sensation of being filled and bred by him.

As your vision blurs, he looks down at you, his face twisted in a feral grimace of pleasure. "Look at you, fucking lost in it, aren't you? My little Angel, so small and tight, taking Daddy's big cock like the good little slut she is."

You can't even form a coherent response, your mind blanked by the intense pleasure. All you can do is cling to him, your body shaking and trembling as he continues to fuck you. "Mmmmph... D-daddy...”

He reaches one hand up to roughly squeeze your bouncing tits, his thumb and forefinger twisting your nipple cruelly. "Stupid slut, who fucking owns this pussy? Who's fucking you into oblivion?" His hips slam up brutally, driving his massive cock deep.

You wail, your body convulsing around him as he twists your sensitive nipple. You look up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, your eyes rolled back into your head. “Y-you... Daddy, only you..”

He growls triumphantly, fucking you even harder at your submission. “That's right, baby girl. Daddy fucking owns this cunt. Look at you falling apart on my cock..." His other hand moves between their bodies, pressing firmly against your clit.

Your whole body seizes up as he rubs your clit, the overwhelming stimulation pushing you over the edge. “DADDY!!" you scream, your pussy clamping down violently on his cock as you cum hard, your juices gushing out around his cock.

He groans loudly as your orgasm makes your pussy squeeze his length like a vice. He spreads your thighs wider, pounding into you non-stop. "Jesus Christ, Angel. You're squirting all over Daddy's dick..."

His voice becomes ragged with lust as he continues to fuck through your orgasm, completely losing control. "Fuck fuck fuck... You're a filthy little mess... Look how you creamed Daddy's cock...” His breathing turns heavy, animalistic "You're making me fucking cum...” With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his thick length pulsing as he begins to fill your womb with his hot, sticky seed. "FUCK, Angel!" he roars, his face contorting in pure ecstasy. "Take Daddy's fucking cum!"

You throw your head back, as you feel his hot seed filling your insides, your body greedily accepting his release. You moan softly, "Yes, Daddy... Breed me~”

He collapses forward slightly, still holding your hips tight as his cock continues to twitch, depositing every last drop of his seed. “Dirty little slut... look what you made me do... I’m fucking you full of cum...”

He slowly pulls out of you, watching as his thick, creamy seed spills out of your well-fucked hole. He smirks darkly, knowing he's marked you as his. "Look at that pretty little pussy, all stretched out and full of Daddy's cum. You're a mess, Angel. My dirty, fucked out little whore." He reaches down to spread your lips apart, showing off your leaking entrance. "This is what you are for me, sweetheart."

You nod, dazed and your mind foggy. He lays you on the bed before going to your bathroom, grabbing a warm wet cloth to clean you. He returns to the bedroom, his expression softening slightly as he approaches the bed where you lay sprawled and dazed. Kneeling between your thighs, he gently presses the warm, damp cloth against your overly sensitive pussy, cleaning you up.

After thoroughly cleaning you, he tosses the cloth aside and lies down beside you, pulling you into his strong arms. He holds you close, your head resting on his chest as he wraps a thick, muscular arm around you waist, keeping you snuggled against him.

“…You knew the whole time?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of shock and disbelief woven into your words.

He stills for a moment, his hips pressed against yours, his weight grounding you beneath him. His heart beats a little faster, though his expression remains calm, composed. He looks down at you, his intense gaze piercing through your surprise as if daring you to question him further.

“Yes, Angel,” he says, his voice steady but low, laced with an edge of dominance that makes your stomach flip. “I knew. From the moment I first saw you, I recognized those big, innocent eyes. And when I heard your voice…” His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek, almost tender in contrast to the firm hold of his other hand on your hip. “I knew exactly who you were.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing to process his confession. All this time, you thought you were hidden behind the safety of your mask, your anonymity protecting you. But he had known—it was you, always you.

“Then why…” Your voice falters as you try to form the words, your cheeks burning with both embarrassment and the weight of his unwavering gaze.

“Why didn’t I say anything?” he finishes for you, his lips quirking into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His tone softens slightly, though it’s no less intense. “Because I wanted you to come to me willingly. I wanted you to need me the way I need you, Angel. And you did. You gave yourself to me, completely, without even knowing it.”

His words leave you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. His hand trails down to your jaw, tilting your face upward so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“And now,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against yours, “there’s no going back. You’re mine, Angel. You’ve always been mine.”

His lips crash against yours, swallowing the gasp that escapes you as his hand tightens on your jaw. The kiss is anything but gentle— it's heated, desperate, and possessive, like he's staking his claim on you in a way words never could.

You melt beneath him, your hands instinctively reaching up to grasp his shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepens the kiss. His tongue slides against yours, commanding and insistent, leaving no room for hesitation or second-guessing.

The world outside fades away, the only thing grounding you to reality being the feel of his body pressed against yours and the relentless intensity of his kiss. When he finally pulls back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rests against yours, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that leaves you trembling.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice rough, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

"Say it."

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice unsteady but sincere.

He smirks, his lips finding yours again, this time softer, slower, but no less consuming.

The kiss is deliberate, his every movement a reminder of the power he holds over you— and the hold you clearly have over him.

[notlongtolove]

your star next to mine

nobody loves the earth for spinning, not really. it's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. the sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. the stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: established relationshippp ugh waking up to spencer reid <3 actually more like spencer reid waking up to bau!reader (spoiler: hes out of this world in love with her)

word count: 1k

note: writing this made me SICKKKK with longing and yearning (they r so in love and i hate them for it ugh) sorry sorry writing ab stars and spencer reid in bed AGAIN im sorry i just want to romanticise small moments in life (theyre coming for me with a strait jacket as we speak)

a line: It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out.

When The Big met The Bang and science happened before eyes that did not exist yet, collided and made love to each other was your star next to mine? Tell me, my love; did someone ever wish upon the star we are made from? - m. chase

There are roughly 7100 languages spoken and signed on earth. Spencer himself is familiar with at least seven of them. Russian, Latin, Middle English, to name a few. You remember him explaining the intricacies of medieval typography during your third date—You think you fell in love with him somewhere between his comparison of Gothic and Carolingian scripts. 

Before there were text messages made up of abbreviations and emojis, there were letters. Love letters of thoughts born from lovelorn minds that made their way into granite, pressed against the grain of paper. Before that, feathered quills dipped in ink, sometimes splattering on parchment. A testament to words too heavy to get out right, but a need to get them out all the same. 

But the earth has been spinning for 4.6 billion years. And before that, there were cavemen that carved primitive symbols into stone—etches and notches that archaeologists still devote their lives to deciphering. Spencer sometimes thinks that had he not joined the FBI, he might’ve found himself in their shoes, decoding ancient scribbles, a circle with four notches, stick figures huddling around it. 

Now, he thinks, there’s not much left to figure out after all.

You turn in your sleep, hand searching for him in the mess of sheets. No words needed. I missed you, even in sleep. I miss you. Spencer shuffles a little closer to appease you, the small crease in your brow softens, almost vanishes, content when you find the curve of his hip. When Spencer places his hand over waist, he knows you know what he’s saying. I missed you too. I miss you, even in sleep.

Your hand shifts to accommodate his, intertwining with his in a way that makes his chest squeeze. It’s a dance you’ve both perfected, your fingers settling into the spaces between his. His hands are far from soft. The callus on his left palm is rough and worn, a result of years in the field with his gun. Yours aren’t perfect either—nails a little less neat than you'd like, a few nicks from the hurried days of recent weeks. His thumb traces the back of your hand. You give a small squeeze in return. And then two more. It’s instinctual—fingers find fingers. Spencer gives three squeezes back. 

But then your hand pushes past his, brushing lightly over the scab on the small of his back—A close call with a bullet during last week’s case. Even in sleep, you frown at the reminder. Not a big deal, baby, he’d winced through the burning pain in an effort to reassure you. You’d cried anyway. Later, you’d marched straight to Hotch, demanding better bulletproof vests—I don’t care if they have a bigger budget, I want the kind they use down in D.C.

Spencer gently takes your hand and places it on his chest. The tension in your brow visibly eases. For a moment, it rests there, still and quiet, before it stirs again, sleepily travelling up to settle on the curve of his neck. The birthmark on your shoulder makes a quiet appearance when his shirt slides off you a little. A lover’s kiss from a past life. Spencer hopes it was him in your life before this. And the one before that. And all the other ones before that. 

He breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck, the motion guided by how tightly he pulls you to him. The only thing he loves more than falling asleep to you is waking up to you. It’s hard to tell where you end and where he begins—Spencer hopes he never has to find out. You pull back slightly humming lightly into his skin, a good morning before the good morning. A hi again, i’m glad it’s you i’m waking up to. 

The strands of hair falling into your face can’t hide the explosion of color in your eyes when they sleepily blink open. Once, then twice, before you’re closing them again—It’s woefully insufficient. Spencer thinks of how constellations were once used for navigation. They guided sailors across vast oceans, helping them find their way home. 

Then you’re leaning in to kiss him, eyes still closed. When the big met the bang all those years ago. His hand moves from your waist, tracing the curve of your spine, down your arm, and back up. You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth and Spencer sees stars. He thinks it’s a wonder you still have this effect on him after 439 days—206 of those being nights spent together. His fingers graze along your jaw before resting gently on your lips. A journey from waist to lips—one Spencer would gladly make a thousand times and more.

As someone with a PhD in Mathematics and who prides himself in his comprehension of logic and reason, Spencer knows infinity is an abstract idea. It’s an unreachable concept through mere arithmetic. But for you, he’d solve for it a million times over just so he doesn’t have to spend a single day without you. Honest to god, he doesn’t think he can. Truthfully, he doesn’t know how he’s managed to go so long without you in the first place.

When you pull away breathless, grinning, it’s almost a little wicked. You're definitely fully awake now. Cheeks flushed, lips red and rosy and you’re both leaning in again.

No words said. Lips to lips. A universal love letter through the ages. Pieces of parchment, folded and sealed, wax stamps guarding tenderness in ink. Hairs tucked inside lockets. Pictures in weathered wallets. From the sea to the shore, from the granite to the quills, from the stone to the paper. No words needed. 

Nobody loves the Earth for spinning, not really. It's been turning for 4.6 billion years with no applause. The sun rises then sets, and the moon follows suit. The stars flicker in their wake and the earth spins regardless. Spencer thinks you’re more than the sun, moon, and stars combined. 

There’s nothing else to decipher. A fact, pure and simple. An absolute consistency through and through. 

Lips to lips, over and over. The big meets the bang, again and again. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: sidelines by phoebe bridgers sailor song by gigi perez

[snoopychris]

aquarium

in which... chris takes mermaid!reader to the aquarium for the first time

sometimes the ocean served as an escape to you. the corals were beautiful, the animals were so friendly sometimes, and it felt so nice to spend time alone with your thoughts at times. at the very same time, sometimes it felt like a prison of sorts. the ocean, as big as it was, sometimes just felt so repetitive. you were 10 years old the first time your dad had let you go onto land on your own. ever since then, it had been such a relief. although a majority of nights were spent in the water, most of the day was spent on land. the places you visited would always vary, ranging from the beach to your dads restaurant to a different beach to a coffee shop and most recently, the sturniolo house. the friendship that had blossomed between you and chris was something you never expected to happen. you had a few friends on land, but there had never been anybody as adamant on hanging with you than chris. it felt like every time you grabbed your phone, there would be a text asking if you wanted to hang out. it was nice having a friend who seemed to really care.

chris was so grateful to finally have a drivers license. the last time he was here, he had to ask matt to drive him everywhere. this time he didnt. this time, chris could do whatever he wanted as long as his grandmother gave him the keys to a car. she never said no. in the past few weeks, chris had found himself spending a lot of time with you on random beaches you would tell him about.

some had nice fish, some had nice corals, some had lots of sea turtles, some had cool plants, some had cool tide pools. he didnt mind spending time on beaches with you, but sometimes it just wasnt enough. it especially wasnt enough since neither of you ever actually went swimming. he never questioned it�� maybe you were just like him and afraid of the water.  sometimes, Chris wanted more. he wanted to be able to take you on nice dates to nice restaurants. 

this was the first time he convinced you to leave the comfort of beaches and his house. something about your entire being drew him towards the aquarium. in small talk conversation, you had told him you’d never been. he had seen people all over his social media apps talking about how it’s one of the most romantic places to take your partner. he knew that you may not have been anywhere near dating, but he just had to take you. your hair was swaying in the wind, the pastel highlights you had recently gotten really showing through. chris wants to kiss you. he knows he can’t, but he really really wants to. 

Chris can’t help but smile when he sees your face light up every time you talk about fish and other sea creatures. he wants to ask how you have such close experience with the blue ringed octopus, but he’s sure that you’ll tell

him the story one day. he wonders how you’ve gone so long living in the Keys and never having gone to the aquarium. chris doesn’t take long to park, but he spends a good minute staring at you. god, you’re beautiful. he runs over to the passenger side of his grandfathers old car, opening the door for you. you send him a small thank you and make your way towards the front door of the building. 

chris feels a blush creep onto his face when your eyes widen in amusement at all of the sea themed decorations. he could’ve gotten the tickets online, but he thought it’d take away from the experience. he makes his way to the cashier, making sure you’re following close behind. both of you recognize the girl standing behind the counter— she’s a girl name kaylynn. you know her for all the wrong reasons. chris knows her for all the right ones. you lick your lips as a look of anger grows on your face. kaylynn tries to be friendly for a second, she really does.

it doesn’t last. “chris… hanging out with the burger girl i see. y’know… you could always hang out with me. we could go to the beach and watch the turtles” she quips. your face contorts as you hold back a response. you could say a lot right now. the look on chris’ face is the only thing holding you back. a small scoff leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes, being met with another comment about your fathers restaurant. you should hold back. not for your sake but for chris’. whatever. you mumble it at first, earning a look from kaylynn. it’s one that screams ‘too scared to fight back?’ you can’t have that. not today. 

“oh my apologies kaylynn. guess you didn’t hear me. so what i said was that you’re a two faced pick me bitch.” if chris wasn’t in shock before, he is now. “pearl!” he yells quietly, his eyebrows high and his mouth hung low. “i’m being honest.” you whisper, snatching the tickets from the girl and walking away. if you could wipe that grin off her face, you would. chris jogs over to you after sending poor kaylynn a semi-apologetic look, gripping onto your wrist gently. 

“what’s that all about?” he asks, letting go of your hand when you sit down on a bench. from what you can tell it’s made of old treasure boxes. “she acts like she cares about all the fish and all the other animals but once i saw her scuba diving and literally stepping on coral with her water shoes. i also saw her litter on a beach.” you explain, crossing your arms. chris shakes his head, running fingers through his hair. “yeah that’s definitely a good excuse for disliking her.” he chuckles, looking around. the two of you still haven’t even entered the aquarium. “here cmon.” he whispers. his hand locks with yours, dragging you to the main attraction. you gasp slightly at the sights you were seeing. even though a lot of the tanks were beautifully decorated, covered in vines and corals, you couldn’t help but feel bad for the fish. some of them were speaking to you. you wished you could help them.

chris can’t help but smile when you put your hand on one of the tanks. you look even more beautiful against the water. “do you um… wanna go swimming with stingrays? they have that here…” your eyes widen at his words. you’re not too sure if it’s because you know this isnt the right place for stingrays or if it’s because there’s open water. a way for you to get caught. you were always careful at the beach. if anything happened you could run away for a bit, dry off, and then come back. if anything happened here there was no escape. chris quickly notices your expression, shaking his head “don’t worry i’m not a fan either! not after steve irwin.” he jokes, continuing to pull you along. you actually really liked stingrays. they were cool. 

you follow close behind chris, hand in hand the entire time. you’d never had a friend guide you like this. it feels nice. every time he turns a corner, there’s more and more fish speaking to you telepathically. it’s something you wanted to turn off sometimes. but others it was nice to hear them when you were swimming alone. “can we get out of here? i feel bad for the fish.” you whisper. chris’ gaze towards you softens, leading you away from the crowds. there’s kids around you screaming. there’s a water table nearby. you hear about it from one of the fish. you gasp slightly at the sight of it, gripping chris’ hand tighter. in your mind, you’re petrified. in chris’ mind, you just like holding his hand. luckily, you make it to the gift shop dry. 

the first thing your hands fly to is a small shark plush. you don’t know why you’re so drawn to it, but you know you just need to have it. chris chuckles, grabbing a similar one. they’re almost identical, the only difference coming from the style of shark. “they’re palm pals. take it.  i’ll buy it for you.” he smiles. you smile back, setting it down on the counter. you feel bad spending his money, but chris feels bad not buying you more. on the way out of the gift shop, you begin to speak. “thank you. this was nice. i know we weren’t here for long but… you’re a good friend chris.” it sends a pang towards chris’ heart, but he knows that you really are nothing more than friends, despite your hands still being intertwined. he shrugs, jokingly flexing his arms next to the car. “it’s what i do.” he smiles, opening the door for you. he grabs onto your hand as you climb in, the roof over your head being a nice comfort. it was a feeling so vastly different from the one inside. there was no water here. 

it’s a bit crazy when you arrive to chris’ house. the drive is only about 25 minutes, and yet in those 25 minutes, the previously clear skies had turned dark grey. it was pouring. chris gently turns the keys out of the ignition, turning towards you. you’re filled with panic again, but your poker face is so spot on that chris doesn’t notice. “y’ready?” he asks, nudging your shoulder. you glance up at him and then outside , shaking your head. “let’s just talk till the rain dies down.” you shrug, pushing your tinseled hair away from your face. chris is never going to decline that offer. the land sometimes felt like an escape. it was such a shame that there were things you’d never be able to do. as much as you hated to admit it, if the ocean was a prison, so was the land. both places you could be at the same time. a strange feeling arises in your stomach when you realize that the only place you’re truly free is any place that you’re with chris.

🫧dividers by @13hoax my angel

🫧tags(reply or message to be added!): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbratt333@wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @ayesha-eroticaa @freshhhloveee @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @zebonos @chrislova @muwapsturniolo @oopsiedaisydeer @throatgoat4u @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @zebonos @ribbonlovergirl @colorthecosmos444

🫧a/n: this ending was rushed can you tell :/ if you see this within the first few minutes of me positng it ignore how the layout looks. anyway welcome back cgs chris i missed you.

[enwoso]

Can you maybe write a keira walsh angst fic where reader is her girlfriend and they have opposite schedules for a few weeks maybe keira has England camp and when she came back reader has a work trip and they are just upset they haven't been able to spend time together

OUT OF REACH | keira walsh

masterlist

keira stood in the doorway of her apartment suitcase still in hand and sighed. the quiet was deafening. no scent of a home cooked dinner, no music playing in the background and most crushing of all, no you.

her eyes scanned the familiar space, her heart sinking just that little lower with each step she took further inside. it wasn’t the first time she’d come back to an empty home recently but with each time it happened it didn’t seem to make it any easier.

the past few weeks has been an endless cycle of missed calls and unanswered texts. england camp had demanded every ounce of her energy and the difference in schedules between the two of you made connecting with each other nearly impossible.

whenever she’d finally found a spare minute to call you, you’d be swamped with your own work. each conversation felt rushed and like it was an obligation instead of the comfort she so desperately needed and wanted.

as she dropped her suitcase near the door, her movements heavy with frustration and fatigue. the silence of the apartment felt oppressive and a stark contrast to the notice in her head.

the note you’d left on the kitchen counter caught her eye and she picked it up with trembling hands.

‘kie, i’m so sorry we keep missing each other. another work trip came up last minute. i’ll can you when i can. i love you, always. and don’t forget to eat something decent, okay? - y/n’

setting the note down carefully, her chest tightening as she leaned against the counter. the words were kind, loving even but they weren’t enough.

nothing felt like enough right now - not your reassurances, not her efforts to stay positive. the distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore.

keira sank into the couch, staring blankly at the wall as she replayed the last few weeks in her mind, every missed moment and stilted conversation. the ache in her chest grew sharper with each memory.

—

when you finally called a few days later, keira didn’t answer right away. her phone vibrated on the coffe table as she stared at your name on the screen. it took three full rings before she moved to pick it up.

“hi,” she said her voice low and flat as she sunk back into the couch as your bright smile dropped almost immediately at your girlfriends moody demeanour.

“kei?,” you said softly you voice carrying a mix of warmth and hesitation as you chose your next words very carefully. “you okay?”

“fine.” she replied curtly. it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t bring herself to open up not after weeks of feeling like she was always the one holding on while you drifted further away from her.

a heavy silence settled between you, broken only by the faint sounds of staff wandering past as you stood outside the conference room having a fifteen minute break.

“baby, talk to me.” you finally said, you tone gentle but firm.

she let out a cruel bitter laugh as she ran a hand through her hair, “what’s there to say? your not here and i’m just.. tired.”

“tired? tired of what?” you asked cautiously as you looked around everyone wandering back into the room where you were holding the conference as you wandered to a quieter place in the building, finding a seat on a ridiculously bright green chair which unfortunately matched the walls.

“of this,” keira snapped, her voice rising slightly. “of coming home to an empty apartment. of weeks of not seeing you, of hardly talking. of feeling like i’m the only one who-“

she cut herself off, biting down on the words that were on the tip of her tongue as they almost spilled out. she didn’t want to say it. she didn’t want to admit just how lonely she felt, how much she questioned whether you still cared as much as she did.

“like your the only one who what?” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly as your eyebrows knitted together.

keira closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. but the dam had already broken. "like i'm only one who is trying!" she burst out as her eyes bubbled with tears. "it's just so hard now, your always working, always gone when i come home and then i'm just.. here. alone"

her words hung in the air, raw and heavy. on the other end of the line you were silent for a moment, long enough that keira had started to regret saying anything at all.

"and you think this is all so easy for me?" you said quietly, your voice laced with hurt, hurt that she would even think of anything like this. "you really think i like being away from you? that i don't miss you every second of every day?"

keira opened her mouth to respond but you didn't let her, didn't give her the chance.

"i'm doing my best here, kei. i don't know what else you want from me," you continued, your voice breaking. "you know i'm trying to run a business. im exhasted and all i want is to be in your arms and i thought you understood this"

the pain in your voice cut through the girl like a knife, keira swallowed hard, her tears stinging her eyes, "i do understand as i know your always understanding of my schedule" she said her voice cracking. "but that doesnt make it any easier. i just.. i miss you, y/n so much and every time i finally get a chance to breath you're not here. and i know it's not your fault but it still hurts"

your sigh comes through the line, heavy with exhaustion and emotion, "it hurts me too kei," you said softly, trying your best to control your breathing, "but we can't keep doing this. we can't keep hurting each other like this. if we don't figure this out.."

you didn't finish you sentence, but the unspoken words hung between you. keira's breath hitched as the weight of it all pressed down leaving an uncomfortable heavy feeling in her chest.

"i don't want to lose you," she said, barely audible.

"and i don't want to lose you." you replied, "but something has to change. keira, we need to find a way to make this work cause i can't feeling like i'm failing you."

keira wiped at her eyes, her heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. "i don't know how to fix this," she admitted.

"we'll figure it out." you said, your tone firm despite the sadness in it. "and the first step is with me coming home, tomorrow."

keira nodded along, even though you couldn't see her the words not fully processing in her head for a couple of seconds, "ok- wait no you have to finish the con-"

"no, kei. i'm coming home tomorrow morning. the conference can wait. my girl needs me. and plus whose gonna stop me, cause last time i checked i was in charge." you let a small giggle as keira hummed before mumbling an 'i love you' as you did the same thing

"i'll see you tomorrow morning, my love"

the call soon ended after, keira sat in the quiet apartment once more, the weight of your word lingering but this time she felt a little lighter knowing by this time tomorrow you'd be back in her arms again.

and true to your words, you walked through the door - well you got two steps into the apartment before keira was engulfing you in a tight hug. and while it didn't erase the pain or the distance of the past few weeks, it was a start and in the right direction. a promise to keep fighting for each other, even when it hurt and seemed out of reach.

[heart-writesss]

it had been 2 weeks since you originally met connie. you guys had been casually texting which turned into being on the phone multiple times a day. conversations just flowed so easily between you guys. it was never a moment of awkward silence for you guys. connie loved your positive energy and hearing you ramble on about the things you love. hearing your sweet giggles over the phone weren’t enough anymore he had to see you soon.

you were at home tidying up when your music paused meaning you were getting a phone call. walking over to the phone you say it was connie calling. you smiled big before answering.

“hellllloo pretty girl.” connie cheeses when you pick up the phone. he loves seeing your smile whenever he calls you little petnames so he makes sure to do it often. he was sitting at home bored and just wanted to hear your voice. “so what are you doing?” connie asks and you begin listing all the little things you had to do around the house. water your plants, mop the kitchen, do some laundry but nothing too crazy. before you could finish he says a set of words that almost make you audibly gasp. “so do you think i could come over? y’know just to hang out.” and before you could think about it you had already said “yes.”

it was 2 hours after you and connie had spoken and 1 hour until connie was supposed to show up. from the moment you hung up the phone you’d been freaking out. connie in your home was absolutely mind boggling for you to process but you had no choice but to get ready. you took a shower with all your best smell goods and did a little shaving for extra precaution. not that you planned on doing anything crazy. this was a simple friendly hang out. right. you put on a pair of black oversized sweatpants and a white tank top. as you were refreshing your curls you heard a knock on the door involuntarily you squeal. looking in the mirror you double check your appearance and take a few deep breaths. it’s kind of embarrassing that you were so nervous about a guy coming over at your big age but it had been a while.

you and connie were sitting on your couch with the tv playing but neither of you were paying it any attention. when connie first came in it was crazy to see this tall man covered in tattoos in your pretty pink apartment. he came in and admired your decor he thought to himself how he couldn’t have imagined a more you looking home. all the little knick knacks and plushies everywhere suited your vibes so well. it was just very cozy. sitting across from you on the couch he was able to admire your features better than over the phone. the way your cheeks looked when you smiled or laughed. the way you spoken with your hands. the intense way you look at him when he’s speaking showing you’re really listening. you had connie feeling a way he had never felt before. and it was just the beginning.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask connie who’s been staring at you as you rambled on about your doll shelf that was by your tv. he was watching you talk with a look on his face you couldn’t decipher. “no reason.” connie responds with a smile. a few beats of silence linger in the room.

“c’mere” connie almost whispers. without protest you made your way towards him and he took over having you straddle his lap. you and him sat face to face. you were certain he could probably hear your heart pounding in your chest. despite the nerves you felt your bodies seemingly fit together perfectly as if you had been made for each other. connie’s hands roamed aimlessly across your back and over your hips somehow ending up underneath your tank top. still no one broke the silence. when connie looked as if he was going to say something you took a leap you were surprised by yourself. you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. it took connie no less than a millisecond to catch up and follow suit. your hands made their way around his neck and your hips began to against his. pulling apart to catch your breath you look at connie and get out a breathy , “hi.”

connie had officially accepted you were going to be his and you knew in your mind you wanted the same.

[hoonieyun]

locked in

part two to "locked up" read part one first! pairing: lee heeseung x reader "y/n" summary: you and heeseung have been texting everyday since you first met that night and although he tries to ask you out on a date everyday, you've turned him down and have decided to play hard to get. but after not hearing from him for a whole day, you begin to worry that he's no longer interested. warnings: mentions of jail and getting arrested, consensual skinship, kissing, overall 18+ not proofread lol genre: bad boy!heeseung kind of lol, strangers to lovers, down bad!heeseung x down bad!reader, romance, a bit of angst, fluff!

wc: 2867

you weren’t sure why you were playing hard to get with heeseung, i mean, he was cute and charming, and typically you probably would’ve taken the chance to jump his bones if he let you– and you know he would, but with heeseung, you wanted to play the long game. 

was it the fact that he was mysterious? you barely knew anything about him yet he was so alluring and you just seemed to find yourself constantly thinking about him. 

or maybe it was because he was kind? he did after all pay for ningning’s bail after they got locked up that eventful night. 

no matter the answer, heeseung was constantly on your mind. like he was locked up in your heart and your ribcage were the bars keeping him in. 

you and heeseung have been texting back and forth for the last few months and since that night, he’s asked you out everyday and to which you’d respond with a dismissive maybe or change the subject completely. of course you wanted to go out with him but you were having a bit too much fun playing the long game and making him work for it. 

after all, you were a prize to be won and it wasn’t going to be easy. 

heeseung on the other hand definitely knew what you were doing. he could tell you were making him work for it and he was willing to do whatever it was to get you to go out with him. he was on the same boat, ever since that night you had been on his mind and the more you played hard to get, the more he wanted you. playing hard to get was really working for you. 

heeseung texted you everyday and you truthfully looked forward to talking with him. every now and then you guys would call or facetime at night until the two of you would fall asleep. even if you guys would just go about your day with the other one the phone or he would text you briefly to just ask how you are doing and if you’ve eaten, you loved talking to him. 

however, today… he hadn’t texted you. it was 4pm and you were constantly checking your phone to see if his contact would pop up but nothhing. the last text he sent you was the day before during breakfast and nothing since then. not even a phone call, a little text asking how you were doing, or even an emoji or random photo. 

nothing. 

you had even texted him good morning and a photo of your lunch, instant ramen, because he had mentioned how much he loved it and there was still nothing. you were getting worried… had he grown tired of you? did he no longer find you desirable because you were playing hard to get? had he found another girl and you were simply just a pitstop for him? you weren’t sure but your mind was running to the worst case scenarios instead of simply thinking about how he’s probably just busy and preoccupied. 

it’s around 9pm at night when you receive a phone call from an unknown number and typically you wouldn’t answer numbers you didn’t know but something was telling you to pick up. and so you did. 

“this is the correctional facility, this phone call is being monitored and recorded for security purposes; if you would like to accept this phone call stay on the line…” and so you did just that. the phone rings for a few minutes and soon enough you can hear several voices and other sounds in the background before someone speaks up. 

“hello? yn?” the caller says and your brows furrow at his voice. 

“hee? why are you calling me from a correctional facility?” you ask, utterly confused and equally relieved that he wasn’t ignoring you on purpose… he was just locked up… again. 

“yeah.. haha about that. i may or may not have gotten arrested again. do you mind coming to get me?” he asks and his voice sounded so soft and gentle in contrast to the situation he was in and it made your heart melt. you felt so bad for him even if you hadn’t known what he was in there for. 

“of course, i’ll be right there. hang tight ok?” 

“thank you, love.” he says and the line ends. 

your mind was running wild with questions but the only thing you were focusing on was the address of the correctional facility so you could pick up heeseung and get the answers you were looking for. 

𐐪♡𐑂

you’re sitting on the trunk of your car as you wait for heeseung to be let out. the parking lot was very empty, like this correctional facility wasn’t an active location, but the light inside the building said otherwise. 

your heart was beating out of your chest as you waited for heeseung and quite frankly, you didn’t know why. its almost 10pm when you arrive and it seems like forever as you wait because it’s not almost midnight and heeseung has yet to be let out. you had attempted to walk inside and ask for an update about heeseung but the guard at the front didn’t even let you walk through the entrance, turning you away before you could even utter a word. 

after waiting for another half hour without heeseung emerging, you decide that you would just wait in the car; so you hop off the trunk and make your way to the driver’s seat when a voice causes you to whip around. 

“leaving without me?” heeseung says, a smirk on his lips as he saunters over to you. hands in his pockets and the same mysterious allure from the first night you two met. “heeseung!” you say while running over to him and you don’t know what comes over you as you jump into his arms, your own arms wrapping around his neck as he lifts you into the air with an embrace. 

“hi, love. i’m so happy to see you.” he whispers into your ear as he lets you back down onto the ground. “i was so worried..” you mutter as the two of you lock eyes and you can see the sincerity in heeseung’s eyes as he hears your words. “i’m sorry, love. i didn’t mean to make you worried..” he says, softly cupping your face and brushing some hair out of your face. you pout at his words and his expression, clear that he was exhausted and although you didn’t want to pry about why he was here in the first place– you couldn’t help but wonder why especially when you were the one to come and get him. 

“we should head home, yeah?” you ask, taking his hand into yours as the two of you guys walk to your car and you could tell that heeseung was tired from the heaviness in his footsteps as they dragged across the concrete. 

heeseung lazily steps into the passenger seat of your car as you do the same into the driver’s seat. the air in the car isn’t awkward but the silence added to the atmosphere, like it was a situation that is supposed to be filled with tension but the silence was comfortable. 

the drive back to your apartment wasn’t long but you drove extra carefully because at some point heeseung had fallen asleep in the passenger seat and was silently snoring next to you. every now and then he would mumble something in his sleep. 

you could barely make out what he was saying until a very coherent sentence leaves his mouth just as you’re pulling into your parking lot. “too pretty for me.. too good for me.. i love her ok?” heeseung mutters and your eyes widen at his words. 

love? he loved you? you weren’t even sure that you were the one he was talking about but that was until your name slips from his lips. “yn.. so sweet to me..” he whispers while stirring in the seat and your cheeks burn a shade of red. you weren’t sure that you were ready to drop the L word just yet but you knew that heeseung made you feel warm on the inside. like the warmth you felt when you hugged him earlier. 

like the warmth you felt the first night you met him. 

and the warmth you felt whenever you’d see his name pop up on your phone. 

𐐪♡𐑂

heeseung crashes onto your couch and before you could even take a few steps; heeseung’s arms wrap around your waist and pull you onto the couch in his embrace. “so warm..” heeseung whispers into your ear as he cuddles up to your body in his arms, unconsciously placing a soft kiss on your head before dozing back to sleep. 

you were a bit shocked at the sudden action but you weren’t necessarily opposed to it. his strong and toned arms around your body provided comfort and a sense of safety that you didn’t know you were looking for. 

warm.. just like he mentioned and just as you thought. to you heeseung was warmth and for him, so were you. 

𐐪♡𐑂

the next morning is something different from your usual routine. when you wake up, the warmth of heeseung’s embrace is no longer enveloping your body. you look around to look for him only to find his spot on the couch gone. you were a bit saddened to see that he had left without as much as a message or text but are instantly relieved when your him in the kitchen. 

“you’re awake? hi, love.” heeseung says, a pot in his hand and chopsticks in the other as he stirred the contents of the pot. “i made us some ramyeon! come on, let’s eat it while it’s still hot.” your eyes light up at his words and you smile at his eagerness to eat his favorite food, the warm feeling returning to your body as you think about how happy heeseung seemed to share his favorite food with you. 

the two of you silently eat the food heeseung prepared and although it was just ramyeon, it was delicious. he explained in great detail how he likes to cook and prepare his ramyeon and you could tell how much he loved it. 

“so… about last night..” heeseung starts and you look up at him from your bowl. 

“i’m sorry that i called you so late.. i didn’t know who else to call and i figured if i called one of my friends they’d just dog on me for getting arrested again.. plus i don’t even know why i called you either because i was scared that it was going to leave a bad impression. i mean come on, i haven’t even taken you out on a date yet and i’m already asking you for favors like picking me up from jail.. 

thank you by the way. for picking me up.. you really didn’t have to–” at this point heeseung was rambling and you could tell he was getting a bit anxious so you gently place your hand over his  and you could see his shoulders drop as the lets out a sigh. 

“it’s ok, hee.. i was happy you called me– obviously not the best circumstance but i was happy to hear from you. 

honestly i was a bit nervous that you didn’t like me anymore or that you got tired of me because i was playing hard to get and hadn’t heard from you all day. but then you called me and i felt better again, although i wished it wasn’t from a jail phone.” the two of you laugh at your response and heeseung nods with the same dashing smile you’ve grown to love about him. 

“are you kidding? i could never get tired of you.. this cat and mouse game we play is cute and i think you’re cute.. you could reject me today and i would still ask you tomorrow.” heeseung says and your cheeks once again are flushed with a warmth; a shade of red creeping onto your skin. 

“so do it.. ask me.” you say, looking at heeseung and he just blinks at you a few times before thinking about what to do next. heeseung suddenly grabs the wrapper from your pair of chopsticks and folds it meticulously into the shape of a circle. 

he rounds the table and gets on one knee in front of you, presenting you the paper ring. 

“yn.. will you do me the honor of going out on a date with me?” he says as if he was proposing to you and as fun as it may be to reject him right now, you were done playing your game. 

“i would love to.” you respond and heeseung’s eyes light up at your words, eagerly slipping the paper ring onto your finger. “one day, it’ll be the ring of your dreams.” he whispers, looking up at you afterwards when you suddenly grab hold of his face and bring him in for a kiss, one that he returns with just as much passion and haste as his arms once again find its way around your waist. 

“i’ve been waiting for that for a while now..” you confess, causing the two of you to laugh. 

“you would’ve gotten it a lot sooner if you hadn’t rejected me so many times..” heeseung says playfully and you roll your eyes. 

“true– but hey i’m not the one who confessed that he loved me last night..” you say teasingly as you get up and using his shocked reaction as a way to slip out of his grasp so you could put the dishes in your sink. 

“w- what? come again?” he asks, bewildered at your remark. 

“last night.. you said you loved me.. while you were sleeping.. in my car..” you say, taking a step closer with each word until you were right in front of him, looking up at heeseung’s big doe eyes as he takes in your figure. 

“don’t tell me you didn’t mean it?” you tease further, a pout on your lips. 

“of course, i meant it.. i just didn’t think i was a sleep talker..” he explains and you smile at his cute response. “it’s okay, i think it was cute plus i perhaps may or may not maybe… love you too?” a confession of your own, causing heeseung’s already wide and bright eyes to widen further. 

“really?” he asks and you nod, placing a kiss on his cheek. 

“dropping the L bomb before we even go on our first date… hmm” he says and you can’t help but laugh. 

“i mean, you practically proposed to me just now so we’re basically married.. and this can be our first date!” you explain, pointing to the pot of ramen still on the table. 

“this is lame though!” heeseung exclaims, arms loosely wrapping around your shoulder. 

“then i guess the night at the club was our first day!” you tempt and he instantly starts shaking his head, “definitely not that..” heeseung says. 

“we’ll have a proper first date, ok? i’ll plan everything, think of it as not only our first date but my way of making it up to you for having you come down to the precinct twice..

the date will be perfect just as long as you’re there.” 

you couldn’t help but melt into his touch as you listened to him speak. you obviously didn’t mean it when you said those two instances were your first date but seeing heeseung’s continuing eagerness to take you out on a date and have it be perfect meant so much to you even if it was something simple. you could tell that he was going to be someone in your life that would provide comfort, safety, warmth, balance, and happiness. even if its just from the few interactions, texts and phone calls the two of you have had. 

“speaking of.. why were you arrested last night?” you say, peering away from his chest after going into an embrace. 

“haha.. yeah so about that.. let’s leave that story for another time hmm?” heeseung says and once again the room fills with the sound of both of your laughs. 

“i’m sure it’ll be a great story for our kids one day.” you say without even thinking and although you were a bit surprised it came out of your mouth, heeseung agrees as the two of you continue to stand in your dining room. your body melting into his as both of your arms wrap around each other. warmth emitting from your bodies as he softly rubs your back. 

this was only the beginning of your relationship with heeseung and with the most untraditional start to your relationship, you knew that he was the one for you. 

in a lot of ways, him getting arrested was almost like a representation of your relationship. heeseung being locked behind bars at some point was only a symbol of the way you held heeseung in your heart and your ribcage being the bars that kept him there. 

he was locked in and so were you. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

special notes: @ikeuverse i know you've been waiting for this and i wanted to wait until your birthday to release >_< happy birthday love! i hope you have a great one <3

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[seitmai]

Oh god so many thoughts

You sat up and laughed miserably. Your husband was lying to you. And you thought you knew what he was lying about. Tears filled your eyes as your hand rested on your belly where your younger daughter was moving around. Why was Bradley doing this to the three of you? 

🥺🥺🥺

You grabbed the second notebook, this one bright pink, and pulled it from the drawer. Only the first few pages were covered in his writing, but you soaked the words up greedily. To my second daughter, you are the third love of my life. I realize that sounds a little unfair, like you're coming in third place, but I promise that's not that case. It's only because I met your mom and your sister first. You're not even here yet, but I already know I love you just as much as I love them. And I can't wait to meet you, too.

Ahh and her not knowing and reading this is like a knife to the chest probably...

Before I get carried away, let me introduce myself. I'm your dad. It's my job to love you and take care of you. I'm not perfect, but I love you so much, I'll always try my best to be here for anything you need. To be honest, I never expected to have a family at all. And to be extra honest, you were a bit of a surprise. But a very good surprise. My favorite kind of surprise. I can't wait to teach you everything I know, which isn't much, but I do know how to love my three girls. 

You weren't sure if you'd be able to kick him out. You didn't know if you could leave him. If push came to shove, you didn't know if you could be that strong. You wished he wasn't making you consider it at all. 

💔💔💔

He never tried to hide the fact that he was married. He fucking flaunted it. You were perfect; why wouldn't he? If someone else thought they had a gorgeous wife? Ha, Bradley could lay it down in spades. Someone else claimed their wife was smart? Well, his was a goddamn genius. Someone wanted to brag about their kids? All he had to do was pull up a photo of Rose, and he had everyone around him swooning.

Oh how he loves to be a husband and dad🥺

He found it easier to make small talk about his family than anything else these days,

🥺🥺🥺

But would that have been fair? To leave her behind when she was the best? When she was clearly one of the pilots who should be moving forward with new programs? It wasn't like she ever touched him. Other than persistently inviting him for drinks and showing up for all of his office hours, she never made an advance. But now he was uncomfortable. There was something about the way she always looked at him that.....yeah, Nat was right.

Of course she was

Bradley's fingers curled around the edge of his desk as he looked down at his phone sitting there. "Uh...Mav, this is embarrassing." When Maverick took a step closer, he reached across the desk to cuff Bradley on the shoulder. "Just hit me with it."

I would love to know what is going on in Maverick's head in that exact moment

Maverick's expression gave nothing away, but he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before taking a step away from Bradley. "To be clear, Bradley, are you asking me to help you hide an indiscretion from your wife?" Bradley's head tilted slightly. "Huh?" he grunted, thoughts already swirling around his mind so rapidly, it took him a few seconds to catch up. "What the fuck, Mav? No!" he gasped. "An indiscretion?" He could barely even say the word as he shook his head. "No. God, no! Nothing happened! Nothing is ever going to happen!"

I truly hope Maverick has learned (from his own experiences?) that he would not side with Bradley if it was the case, for Carole and Goose the otp 🫰���

When Maverick hummed and went silent, Bradley said, "I know how ridiculous it sounds." "It doesn't," his godfather replied immediately.

Mav in his head:

"But she texted you before that. When you never explicitly gave her your number." Maverick looked up at him, shaking his head. "Bradley, what were you thinking? She seems to have some sort of agenda. You should have come to me immediately after the first message." Bradley stood, stomach lurching. His marriage, career, and reputation were somehow all on the line, and he hadn't even done anything. He couldn't help but think of his parents and the fact that his dad probably never put his mom through this kind of shit when she was seven months postpartum.

I think it finally catches up to Bradley... And yes his dad probably didn't put his mom through that but nobody compares to Carole and Goose🫶🏻

"You work in a high stakes field where women routinely outperform men. They are capable of anything you are."

As they should lmao

"I know that!" Bradley snapped. "But I'm married! I'm not looking for that shit. I never let on that I was." "Oh, you sweet summer child," Maverick sighed, checking his watch. "Literally," he added as he dug his own phone from his pocket. "If Lieutenant Jeffries is sending you photos and playing coy, she doesn't care about your wife."

Good god finally someone really laying it down so Bradley gets it too

You were crying. You didn't want Bradley to see you cry right now, but you couldn't stop. "This doesn't look like nothing. And you didn't tell her to stop." Now he looked panicked, eyes wide as he saw the photo on his phone in your hand. "Okay, I know this looks bad, but I reported it, I swear! I've never been alone with her behind closed doors. You can call Mav!"

This is not looking good...

Violent sobs shook your body, and when Bradley slowly let his hand settle on your arm, you shook him free. "You expect me to believe nothing is going on? When you get home late every day? When she told me that it's no wonder you prefer her since I let myself go?" you gasped, swiping at your tears. "What?" Bradley barked as you blindly handed his offending phone back to him. "She said that to you?"

If one thing can set Bradley's head straight, is Indigo going directly against his wife, I feel like this is a big line that has been crossed

You nodded miserably, taking a step away from him. "I don't want to know if you said that to her, or if she formed her own opinion after spending time with you. And I don't want to know if you're fucking her or just considering it. But I want you out of the house." Bradley looked like you just slapped him. His mouth was hanging open, brow creased while you sobbed. "You want me out?" he whispered, hand going up to rake his fingers through his hair. "Yes," you squeaked, trying to stay strong not just for yourself, but for your daughters as well. Every word hurt as you forced them out of your mouth, but you had to say them. "Go. Until I can talk to my parents about canceling the sale of their house. I'll transfer to Annapolis. Take the girls with me."

no words... just tears 😭😭😭

Bradley closed the distance to you, tears already pooling in his eyes as he dropped to his knees. His lips found your belly, and you sobbed harder as he wrapped his hands around your hips. "No. You can't," he said so softly, you could barely hear him. When he looked up at your face, you almost believed he would never be capable of hurting you. "Baby Girl, you can't leave me. I need you. I need my girls." When you stepped out of his grasp, his arms fell limply to his sides. You'd never seen him look so miserable before, and you had to stand firm instead of reaching for his hands.

💔💔💔

The implications of your own words stung your heart, and you had to watch him slowly get to his feet. He kissed your forehead, and your eyes blurred with fresh tears when he went down the hallway to Rose's room. Less than a minute passed, but each second felt like a day. You had plenty of time to tell him the truth. That you didn't want him to leave. That you couldn't blame him for wanting someone else, and you still needed him as much as he said he needed you. When he reappeared, you pressed your lips together even as he kissed your damp cheek. "I love you," he rasped. "I'm never going to stop loving you. I'll figure out some way to make you believe me."

Aim for the Sky Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Maverick makes time to have a conversation with Bradley, but you've already lost faith in him. Your words hurt him more than anything else could. 

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

When the mattress dipped and you felt the bedding shift around your legs, you opened your eyes to find Bradley climbing out of bed. The room was still dark, but his face was illuminated by his phone screen. The baby was thumping against your tender insides, making you wince, and your husband was playing around on his phone in the middle of the night. Or texting someone.

"What are you doing?" you croaked. Bradley's gaze snapped toward your face, and he leaned down to pull the covers to your shoulder.

"Uh, I need to head to base a little early," he whispered, tracing your cheek with his thumb. "To meet with Mav."

"What time is it?" you asked, rolling toward him to see his phone.

"Almost six," he replied, kissing your forehead as he tipped his screen away. "I love you. Try to get some more sleep."

You swallowed hard, rolling away from him as he started pulling his uniform from the closet. The rustle of fabric set your nerves on edge, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he got dressed. Maybe he thought you fell asleep again, because he didn't say another word before he left the room. But you were pretty sure you heard him stop in Rose's nursery before leaving the house.

Now you were wide awake and alone. Your phone told you it was 5:28 which was completely absurd. Neither you nor Bradley ever got to base before 8:00 unless you were working your ass off on a project.

He used Maverick as his excuse which seemed ridiculous. Bradley wasn't in the middle of training for a special mission which would require extra hours before daylight. And he had to know Maverick would only cover for him for so long.

You sat up and laughed miserably. Your husband was lying to you. And you thought you knew what he was lying about. Tears filled your eyes as your hand rested on your belly where your younger daughter was moving around. Why was Bradley doing this to the three of you? 

It wasn't like you couldn't tell how bad you looked at the moment. You knew it. You were bloated and chunky and broken out, but it was at least half his fault you were pregnant again in the first place. And you would make it a priority to get in shape after she was born. You would.

Your fingers were curled around the sheets, trying to keep yourself on your side of the bed, but you crawled toward Bradley's nightstand anyway. The lamp was too bright, taking your eyes a beat to adjust. You yanked the drawer open which offered almost no insight to anything except his Nugget Notebook with the pink and blue striped cover. But then you saw something underneath it.

You grabbed the second notebook, this one bright pink, and pulled it from the drawer. Only the first few pages were covered in his writing, but you soaked the words up greedily.

To my second daughter, you are the third love of my life. I realize that sounds a little unfair, like you're coming in third place, but I promise that's not that case. It's only because I met your mom and your sister first. You're not even here yet, but I already know I love you just as much as I love them. And I can't wait to meet you, too.

Before I get carried away, let me introduce myself. I'm your dad. It's my job to love you and take care of you. I'm not perfect, but I love you so much, I'll always try my best to be here for anything you need. To be honest, I never expected to have a family at all. And to be extra honest, you were a bit of a surprise. But a very good surprise. My favorite kind of surprise. I can't wait to teach you everything I know, which isn't much, but I do know how to love my three girls. 

"How?" you gasped, dropping the notebook back into the drawer. You sobbed into Bradley's pillow, unable to make sense of this. How was the man who wrote notebook passages to his children the same man who was sneaking around behind your back. With Indigo. It simply did not make sense, but both versions of him seemed to exist at the same time. And somehow you were the one who was more at odds with yourself than he was with himself.

You could feel the love he had for his daughters. It was so obvious. He was so good with Rose, and he seemed excited about having two kids.

You weren't sure if you'd be able to kick him out. You didn't know if you could leave him. If push came to shove, you didn't know if you could be that strong. You wished he wasn't making you consider it at all. 

--------------------------

"Oh, God."

Bradley was awake as soon as Maverick replied to his text at five in the morning. He'd barely been able to sleep anyway, but when Maverick told Bradley he was heading to Lemoore in a few hours for a meeting, he begged his godfather to meet with him first.

Now Bradley was sitting in his office in a silent building waiting for any help he could get. As far as he had worked out, Indigo had been devouring his extra attention for weeks for a less savory reason than he originally thought. All the times she invited him out for a drink left him shaking his head while he stared at the wedding photo perched in his desk. 

He never tried to hide the fact that he was married. He fucking flaunted it. You were perfect; why wouldn't he? If someone else thought they had a gorgeous wife? Ha, Bradley could lay it down in spades. Someone else claimed their wife was smart? Well, his was a goddamn genius. Someone wanted to brag about their kids? All he had to do was pull up a photo of Rose, and he had everyone around him swooning.

He found it easier to make small talk about his family than anything else these days, and he was sure Indigo knew he was married before he even left Texas to fly back to San Diego. It still seemed unlikely she wanted to sleep with him, but he wasn't going to deny that Nat was usually right about these things.

"Oh, God," Bradley groaned for probably the tenth time since he woke up. He wanted to rewind and go back to Texas and never select Indigo in the first place. 

But would that have been fair? To leave her behind when she was the best? When she was clearly one of the pilots who should be moving forward with new programs? It wasn't like she ever touched him. Other than persistently inviting him for drinks and showing up for all of his office hours, she never made an advance. But now he was uncomfortable. There was something about the way she always looked at him that.....yeah, Nat was right.

But if Bradley couldn't handle his first assignment in his new position, how was he supposed to prove he could do this going forward?

There was a knock on his already open door, and Maverick stood there looking perplexed. "Bradley? What did you need that couldn't wait until later this week?"

Bradley groaned again as he stood. "Can you shut the door?"

"Sure."

Maverick let it slip from his fingers, and Bradley waited until the echo of the door closing gave way to silence. He could feel his godfather's gaze on his face as his eyes closed. He swallowed hard, not wanting to waste the other man's time, but now that he was here, he felt so stupid. 

"I need your help," Bradley rasped, voice hoarse as his eyes opened. "It's work related."

"Okay," Maverick replied, voice between a statement and a question. "What can I do?"

Bradley's fingers curled around the edge of his desk as he looked down at his phone sitting there. "Uh...Mav, this is embarrassing."

When Maverick took a step closer, he reached across the desk to cuff Bradley on the shoulder. "Just hit me with it."

Bradley took a long breath and let it out slowly. "There's another officer who... well, it's been brought to my attention that she..." He let go of his desk and rubbed his fingertips against his eyes. "There's a chance my wife thinks something's going on between me and another officer on base. One who reports to me."

Maverick's expression gave nothing away, but he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before taking a step away from Bradley. "To be clear, Bradley, are you asking me to help you hide an indiscretion from your wife?"

Bradley's head tilted slightly. "Huh?" he grunted, thoughts already swirling around his mind so rapidly, it took him a few seconds to catch up. "What the fuck, Mav? No!" he gasped. "An indiscretion?" He could barely even say the word as he shook his head. "No. God, no! Nothing happened! Nothing is ever going to happen!"

He realized he was shouting when Maverick's hands flew into the air in surrender. "Okay. Alright. I hear you loud and clear. I just needed to be sure I understand what we're dealing with here. Why don't you have a seat and explain everything to me?"

Bradley was raking his fingers through his hair as he dropped down into his chair. "It's Lieutenant Jeffries. Indigo." Her intense blue eyes filled his mind as he shook his head. "Phoenix and Hangman pointed out that she..." He paused and glanced at the ceiling. "This is so embarrassing, Mav, but they said it seems like she wants to sleep with me."

"Hmm."

When Maverick hummed and went silent, Bradley said, "I know how ridiculous it sounds."

"It doesn't," his godfather replied immediately. "This sort of thing happens sometimes. You said nothing happened? You should keep your distance moving forward, and if she contacts you outside of work or does anything inappropriate, we can write it up."

Bradley groaned miserably, unlocked his phone, and pushed it across the desk with his messages open. "She did text me outside of work."

While Maverick reached for the phone, he said, "Did you give her your number?"

"No. Why would I do that?" he replied. "But honestly, it's not hard to get access to that kind of information. I didn't think much of it the first time."

Maverick shrugged. "Well, what did she text-" His eyes grew wide when he looked down at the phone, his cheeks turning pink as he was surely looking at the photo that had been in Bradley's messages for less than twelve hours.

"Yeah," Bradley croaked. "She sent that last night."

"But she texted you before that. When you never explicitly gave her your number." Maverick looked up at him, shaking his head. "Bradley, what were you thinking? She seems to have some sort of agenda. You should have come to me immediately after the first message."

Bradley stood, stomach lurching. His marriage, career, and reputation were somehow all on the line, and he hadn't even done anything. He couldn't help but think of his parents and the fact that his dad probably never put his mom through this kind of shit when she was seven months postpartum.

"An agenda?" Bradley whispered. "Shit, Mav. This is the kind of thing that happens on carriers. Not on base. I thought this was something men did way more than women when they wanted to cheat."

Maverick handed his phone back across the desk with the photo of Indigo open. Bradley swiped out of the text thread immediately, sick to his stomach. 

"You work in a high stakes field where women routinely outperform men. They are capable of anything you are."

"I know that!" Bradley snapped. "But I'm married! I'm not looking for that shit. I never let on that I was."

"Oh, you sweet summer child," Maverick sighed, checking his watch. "Literally," he added as he dug his own phone from his pocket. "If Lieutenant Jeffries is sending you photos and playing coy, she doesn't care about your wife."

Bradley winced. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Maverick grunted, taking a few steps toward the door. "And your wife is pregnant and vulnerable, and now I'm going to have to tell Admiral Simpson that I'll be late getting to Lemoore. Follow me. And bring your phone."

-------------------------------------

Bradley was late getting home. This was happening almost every night now, and you were hanging on by a thread as Rose screamed in your arms. She was fed, but she always seemed to prefer the way Bradley burped her over your technique.

"He's not here," you said through gritted teeth. "I don't know where he is or when he'll be back. I just need you to burp so you can go to sleep."

Your texts had gone unanswered. You weren't sure if Bradley had been in the cafeteria at lunchtime, because you hid in your office. Dinnertime had come and gone, and his cold plate of food was currently sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I don't know where he is," you repeated to your daughter while her younger sister did somersaults against your bladder. Rose's sobs finally started to taper off as you rubbed your hand firmly against her back. She finally burped, and that seemed to do the trick. Her fists curled up next to her face as she yawned. You barely had enough time to change her into a clean diaper and pajamas before her eyes were closed.

You were mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. You stood in her nursery, watching her sleep while you decided you needed to say something to your husband tonight. There was no way you could keep punishing yourself for not being enough. If he wanted someone else, you deserved to have him say it to your face.

But when you heard him open the front door thirty minutes later, your heart lurched into your stomach at the sight of him. You'd known how handsome he was since the day you met him, and he only seemed to get better looking with age. Each year added more silver to his hair and laugh lines to his face, but he was undeniably sexy.

Today, however, he looked exhausted, and your brain went wild with awful ideas. What had he gotten up to? Why was he so late? The top buttons of his uniform were undone, and his hair was mussed. He was staring down at his phone in his hand while you stood silently at the end of the hallway, terrified of what he was looking at.

Suddenly everything you'd been holding inside for weeks was bubbling up to the surface, and you were done holding it back. You cleared your throat, and his gaze snapped up to your face, phone hanging in his hand by his side.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Is Rosie already asleep?"

You nodded, taking each step slowly until you were standing right in front of him. When he reached for you, his fingers skimmed your shoulder before you pushed his hand away. Those beautiful, brown eyes you loved so much went wide, but he didn't look surprised. Not at all.

"Why are you so late?" you snapped. "And don't feed me some bullshit about office hours, because I know your schedule. Or, at least, I know what they are supposed to be."

Bradley licked his lips, gesturing between the two of you with his phone. "I had to take care of something important with Maverick."

You wanted to laugh in his face. "You're really going to use the same excuse as this morning? Another meeting with Maverick? What, one was at the crack of dawn and the other was after dinnertime? I've been texting you for hours, Bradley."

You watched his Adam's apple bob. "I didn't have my phone with me for part of the day."

"You have it now!" you laughed sardonically, pointing at his hand just in time to see his phone light up. 

It was her. You saw her name there. Indigo. She was texting your husband well after work hours, and you could already feel the tears stinging your eyes.

You grabbed his phone before he seemed to realize what was happening. Your fingers shook as you entered his passcode to find it was still your birthday. He wasn't even trying to hide this from you. He wasn't trying to take his phone back. As you braced yourself for what you were about to see, you whispered, "What the fuck is going on with her?"

His brown eyes were so sincere, and once again, you couldn't understand how this was the same man who wrote journals for his unborn children. "Nothing," he replied, voice taking on a tone of defeated exhaustion. "There's nothing going on."

Your eyes dipped down to his phone to find not one, but two flirtatious selfies. One new one, and one that was sent last night while he was working out in the garage. Indigo's eyes stared back at you from the screen, mocking you, making a fool of your family.

You were crying. You didn't want Bradley to see you cry right now, but you couldn't stop. "This doesn't look like nothing. And you didn't tell her to stop."

Now he looked panicked, eyes wide as he saw the photo on his phone in your hand. "Okay, I know this looks bad, but I reported it, I swear! I've never been alone with her behind closed doors. You can call Mav!"

Violent sobs shook your body, and when Bradley slowly let his hand settle on your arm, you shook him free. "You expect me to believe nothing is going on? When you get home late every day? When she told me that it's no wonder you prefer her since I let myself go?" you gasped, swiping at your tears.

"What?" Bradley barked as you blindly handed his offending phone back to him. "She said that to you?"

You nodded miserably, taking a step away from him. "I don't want to know if you said that to her, or if she formed her own opinion after spending time with you. And I don't want to know if you're fucking her or just considering it. But I want you out of the house."

Bradley looked like you just slapped him. His mouth was hanging open, brow creased while you sobbed. "You want me out?" he whispered, hand going up to rake his fingers through his hair.

"Yes," you squeaked, trying to stay strong not just for yourself, but for your daughters as well. Every word hurt as you forced them out of your mouth, but you had to say them. "Go. Until I can talk to my parents about canceling the sale of their house. I'll transfer to Annapolis. Take the girls with me."

Bradley closed the distance to you, tears already pooling in his eyes as he dropped to his knees. His lips found your belly, and you sobbed harder as he wrapped his hands around your hips. "No. You can't," he said so softly, you could barely hear him. When he looked up at your face, you almost believed he would never be capable of hurting you. "Baby Girl, you can't leave me. I need you. I need my girls."

When you stepped out of his grasp, his arms fell limply to his sides. You'd never seen him look so miserable before, and you had to stand firm instead of reaching for his hands.

"Find somewhere else to sleep."

The implications of your own words stung your heart, and you had to watch him slowly get to his feet. He kissed your forehead, and your eyes blurred with fresh tears when he went down the hallway to Rose's room. Less than a minute passed, but each second felt like a day. You had plenty of time to tell him the truth. That you didn't want him to leave. That you couldn't blame him for wanting someone else, and you still needed him as much as he said he needed you.

When he reappeared, you pressed your lips together even as he kissed your damp cheek. "I love you," he rasped. "I'm never going to stop loving you. I'll figure out some way to make you believe me."

You watched him retreat to the front door with his keys, shoulders sagging as he gave you one last lingering look before slipping out into the darkness.

------------------------------------

Ouch. Ouch. Okay. I want BG to believe Roo beyond any doubt, and I think I know how to make that happen. Please stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[burningembers91]

The Fear of Feeling Nothing - Choi Su-Bong x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Not Who I Want to Be The Beauty of Vulnerability Fuscia Pink Kisses Performance of a Lifetime Vacation Mode

Synopsis: Choi Su-Bong is forced to face his addiction head on

A/N: Based on this ask

Life had been a whirlwind since you’d returned from vacation. Choi Su-Bong had barely been home, touring the country with his record label, recording songs in the studio, and giving interview after interview. You’d barely had time for each other, save for a few phone conversations and three blissful nights that he’d managed to sneak away and spend at home. You’d been renovating the apartment, painting walls, ripping up carpets and replacing kitchen cabinets, and the whole place just felt chaotic.

You knew Su-Bong was keeping himself busy on purpose. If he was busy, he wouldn’t have time to deal with his dad. The man had been calling him non-stop, leaving voicemails and text messages at all hours of the day and night. He knew he’d have to see him at some point, knew he’d have to face up to the man who had turned him into a monster.

He’d tried to explain to you what life had been like growing up, but it was hard to put it into words. You had such a great relationship with your family and couldn’t even begin to fathom the things Su-Bong had been put through. Years of his dad’s drinking, physical and mental abuse, and living in constant fear of the man who was supposed to have loved him had left their mark and Su-Bong could feel old habits trying to scratch their way back into his life.

He desperately wanted a drink, craved the numbness that came from the colourful little pills he used to pop. He didn’t have you around him to keep him grounded, didn’t have the safety of your embrace to turn to whenever things got hard. He wanted to ask you to come with him on his press tour, but you had your own work to focus on, and the apartment desperately needed sorting. He had to be strong for you, had to stay sober for you. if he lost you, life would lose it’s meaning entirely.

It was late when his phone rang, breaking through the light sleep he’d finally fallen into after hours of tossing and turning. His dad’s name flashed up on his screen and he immediately silenced the phone. There was nothing that man had to say that Su-Bong wanted to hear.

“Why don’t you block him?” you asked then next day on FaceTime, giving him a tour of the kitchen you’d be awake until 2am painting. “If you have nothing to say to him, and you don’t want contact with him, block his number.” Su-Bong had thought about doing that, but could never bring himself to do it. he wasn’t sure why, but something always stopped him just before he hit the button. “Part of me wants to know why he’s back,” he admitted. “I keep wondering if maybe he’s come to apologise.” He knew that wouldn’t be the case. His dad was a textbook narcissist, and never felt any remorse for his actions, because he never felt like he’d done anything wrong. “Would you accept his apology?” you asked. He knew the answer was no, but it didn’t stop him wondering if maybe, after all these years, his dad had seen the light.

The next day, Su-Bong had another four missed calls, and the day after that there were another three. “Please, son,” his father’s voice begged down the phone. “Just hear me out. Meet me tonight at The Python Lounge. I really need to talk to you.”

Against his better judgement, Su-Bong found himself outside his father’s favourite bar, finally relenting on the man’s request to meet up. He hadn’t stepped inside a bar since meeting you, hadn’t had a drop to drink in months. He could feel the desire clawing at his skin, could feel the insatiable thirst gripping him. He had to stay strong though, for you.

Heading inside, he couldn’t see his father but found a quiet table in the corner. The bar was a complete shit hole, the kind of place you went to drink yourself to death. Su-Bong sunk down into the booth, eager to hide his face. Not that he was worried about seeing anyone here. The bar was mostly empty, and the few people propped up on bar stools were too drunk to know their own name, let alone recognise him.

He waited, and waited, finally calling his father when an hour had gone by. His phone went straight to voicemail, so Su-Bong hung up and tried again. He was getting angrier as the minutes passed, unable to believe he’d been stupid enough to allow himself to believe his father would show up. He’d failed him his entire life, so why had he expected him to change his ways now? The need for a drink was almost overwhelming now, the heavy smell of liquor in the air making his mouth water. His chest was tightening, a sign he now recognised as a panic attack. A drink could soothe him, could calm the rising nerves.

He balled his fists, willing himself to be stronger, to be better than his addiction. He needed to leave, needed to get out of this shithole and head home to you. “Thanos?!” His heard his name, his old name, and turned around. One of his old friends stood behind him, the man who had been glued to his side at every party. He could barely even remember his name. Kang-Hun? Was that his name? It embarrassed him that he couldn’t recall. “It’s Choi Su-Bong now,” he snapped, his anger almost at boiling point. Why, when he was trying so hard to be a better person, did his past keep trying to drag him back down.

“The fuck happened to you, bro?” Kang-Hun, or whatever his name was sighed. “You just, like… disappeared.” His pupils were huge, so dilated his eyes were almost entirely black. His face was slack, his mouth slightly drooping as he attempted to focus through the haze of drugs. “I changed,” Su-Bong said, pushing himself out from the booth. “Man, we used to have so much fun,” Kang-Hun laughed. “Hey, you remember that time we did coke off that stripper’s tits? Man, that was a sick night.” Su-Bong cringed as he remembered it, the flashback making him feel sick. He’d been a horrible person back then. “Have a drink with me,” Kang-Hun smiled, slapping him on the shoulder. He was swaying in place, the combination of booze and pills wreaking havoc on his balance. “I don’t drink anymore,” Su-Bong sighed. “Listen, I’ve got to go-“ “One drink, bro. that’s all I’m asking.” Kang-Hun held his hands out. “For old time’s sake.”

Against his better judgement, Su-Bong found himself at the bar. He ordered a diet coke, but the smell of his former friend’s whiskey burned in his throat, that niggling desire itching the base of his skull. He could almost taste the warm, bitter amber liquid. “So, you’re making new music now?” Kang-Hun asked, gripping the bar as he swayed in his seat. “So fucking cool, man. why don’t we talk anymore? I miss you.” He couldn’t find the words to respond, all his energy focused on not taking a sip of alcohol. His heart was hammering in his ears, the sound almost deafening. “You seemed stressed, bro,” Kang-Hun told him, rummaging for something in his pocket. “Hey, remember what you used to say? When the feels get real, just pop a pill.”

Su-Bong wished he could go back in time and punch the old him. He’d been a real fucking prick. Kang-Hun nudged him, showing him a tin of the pink pills he’d once loved so much. “Come on, man,” he smiled. “Just one, so you can chill out.” “No,” he spat through gritted teeth. He needed to leave, needed to get in his car and drive home to you. “You’ve gone soft,” Kand-Hun laughed. “Like a chick. You all in tune with your feelings now or some shit? Just take the fucking pill, man. Feelings ain’t worth fucking shit.”

Is this what Su-Bong had been like? A junkie with no regard for other people’s boundaries? He looked at his former friend, so high off his face he could barely keep his eyes opened and wondered if this is how people used to see him. He remembered how he used to numb himself, so he’d feel nothing. He didn’t feel pain, sadness, happiness or even pleasure. He spent years feeling nothing, but now he knew that feelings, no matter how uncomfortable, made you who you were.

Kang-Hun shook the tin of pills, wiggling his eyebrows. “What do you say?” He smirked. “I’d rather feel something, than nothing at all,” Su-Bong snapped. He stood up to go, before turning around. “It’s not too late. You can get help if you want it.” “I don’t need your fucking help,” his former friend spat. “Get fucked.”

Su-Bong headed out into the night, driving back to the sanctity of the apartment he shared with you. He burst through the door, pulling you in close. “I’m covered in paint,” you laughed, but you wrapped your arms around him anyway. You could tell something was wrong, could see the pain in his eyes. His clothes smelled like stale booze, and you wondered if maybe he’d relapsed. “Did you drink?” you asked him softly. “No,” he should his head, “I went to meet my dad, but he didn’t show. I waited in the bar for hours and I wanted a drink so badly. But I didn’t drink a drop, I swear.”

He was desperate to feel you, to feel all the emotions he’d spent so long blocking out. He made love to you on the paint-stained sheets in your kitchen, feeling every curve of your body, every inch of your soft skin. He lost himself in the pleasure he had so often blocked out, relishing the way he felt inside of you, the way his body felt against yours. Tonight had been a stark reminder of what could happen if he lost his way. He didn’t want to be like Kang-Hun, didn’t to become the person he’d once been.

He needed to face his past, to confront his dad and then block him from his life. He would never again allow himself to sink into the numbness that came with addiction. But in order to free himself, he needed to confront the man that had caused the need to block out all feelings in the first place.

His dad had bailed on him tonight, but Su-Bong wouldn’t allow him to do it again. He’d faced his past head on, and now it was time his dad did the same.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I whisper secrets to my mirror

a/n idk this came to me in a dream last night so here we are now. I had to let this out of my system. Also, I haven’t written properly in a month so apologies if this sucks ass. 🫂✨

summery: take a gamble… one night leads to a handful of chased pleasure. So let’s whisper secrets to the mirror maybe at the end we will get to see each other clearer.

warning: FWB, sexual content, female and male receiving but also a plot… right…

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Noah had a strict rule when it came to seeing people. He wanted his life to stay off the internet at all cost and by now he was more than aware that letting random people into his bed was like a time bomb waiting to explode. So once bad omens took off, he cut off almost all the careless hookups. He wasn’t a priest, of course, he still had needs. But the bigger his band got, the harder it became to enjoy a careless night out because no matter what he always felt as if a dagger hung right above his neck.

You fell into his lap quite literally. The whole team had agreed to go for a round of drinks after the end of the tour. Bryan had been the one to point you out in the crowd. “That’s my buddy’s sister, moved here for uni I think”, he muttered something along the lines. Or that was all Noah heard before every part of him was consumed by you. That whole night had been a blur. All Noah was confident in was your smile. He would never forget you smile. One that still had him in a chokehold. And that red dress that looked as if it was painted on your body until it wasn’t and he was fucking into you from behind in a random bathroom stall. All procession thrown out the window. Moaning as if there was no tomorrow. Kissing your shoulder as he muttered your name.

And then there was one big blur again as he woke up the next morning. Nothing made sense but all Noah saw was you when he closed his eyes. Just the throbbing hangover had brought a wave of realization too. And he had spent good two hours trying to find your profile and another two trying to come up with a decent message. He had scribbled an awkward, “Hi, last night was fun but I don’t usually do that so sorry that I wasn’t in a state to take you home”, he regretted it instantly but the moment the three dots appeared he forgot how to breathe. “I can still feel you between my legs”, was the first thing you responded with, and fuck if his dick didn’t twitch at the thought of how you had felt. “Took the morning-after pill so you have nothing to worry about”, and there went all his arousal. So he kept in touch. Slightly growing paranoid. A month he had told himself. Till you get your period and he could make sure that you weren’t pregnant by accident. He just didn’t take it into the consideration that four weeks was a long time and growing familial in a month wasn’t all that hard. Not when you had tumbled back into bed not even a week later.

So tonight, as Noah anxiously tapped his steering wheel, ridden with stress about the tour preparations, he couldn’t wait to see you again. He had texted you to say that he was coming to your apartment. He just didn't wait for your response, too desperate to see you. Get a fix you offered. Just you. Because it settled something in him. Being there with you made him feel like he could do anything.

Noah held up two bags of takeout, as you opened the door. A slight frown on your face. “Hey", Noah muttered leaning against your doorframe. “Hey, I was just texting you back”, you gestured to your phone. He stepped into the apartment with a hum, setting the takeout down on the kitchen counter. "Don’t need to bother with that now”, Noah leaned against the counter, eyeing you from across the room. You looked tired. The dark circles you tried to hide with the concealer… yeah he saw through you. He had from the first moment. It was scary how it felt as if he had known you his whole life.

"Long day?", he muttered as you patted closer, peaking into the bags of food. “I mean… I guess?”, you mussed, reaching to put your hair up in a messy bun, running a hand down your face before turning to him, “What brought you here?”

"Like I texted you. I'm tired and stressed, I missed you.", he watched you move around with that look in his eyes. The desperation almost. You never really liked your man needy but had made the exception for Noah. “Careful, or I will assume that I am your favorite booty call”, you chuckled, opening one of the boxes up, taking a fried dumpling before plopping it into your mouth. Noah rolled his eyes, a crooked smirk appearing on his face as he watched you take a seat across from him.

“You are, the only one too", he said bluntly, watching you roll your eyes. It always felt domestic with you. It was stupid honestly but even watching you eat had become special to him. Noah leaned against your fridge, so he could face you properly, hands rubbing his face as he gave out a long sigh. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”, you asked, tilting your head to the side as your eyes landed on him. Noah glanced over at the food sitting beside him on the table, then back at you, "Not in the mood. Too many things on my mind." He was tired. He knew you could sense it too. Yet he did what he always had. Shutting his brain off as he let himself take you in. Crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes roamed up and down your body, almost shamelessly, a smirk slowly spreading on his face.

You pushed the box with food to the side, “Want to talk about it or TALK about it?”, you mused, leaning against the kitchen counter. Noah raised an eyebrow, a chuckle leaving his lips. He wanted to be cheeky like you. After all your personality had won him over in a heartbeat. But the day’s weight was too heavy on his shoulders so instead of suppressing it like he usually did, he let himself let out another sigh, as he muttered, "I'm just… stressed. Tour and planning and everyone and their fucking opinions. Just thinking of all the things that need to get done and it's all just…”, Noah trailed off, running a hand through his hair. You watched him now, those assesing eyes dissecting him on the spot.

“Do you want to fuck this out of your system or are we talking about it?”, you asked bluntly. He blinked a couple of times, a smirk spreading across his face before a scoff left his mouth. You were always so blunt with things like this, after all, you were the one who had asked to fuck the first time you met. That was probably why he had said yes too. It was a transaction. Just two horny people. You didn’t want anything to do with the fame, the band, him as a musician. And fuck it he loved it.

“Can’t it be both?", he shrugged in return. “What comes first?”, you mused, smiling at him all innocently. It was tricky. Was fucking and then dumping his problems onto you worse? "Talking”, he nodded, “then we can fuck", you nodded, pushing off the counter as you reached for his hand. “Okay then”, you mused, dragging him towards the living room. And he followed without any hesitation. Like a lost puppy trailing after you.

“Sit, and then lay your head on my lap”, you ordered him, pointing to the sofa as you too settled down. Noah nodded, slowly lying back, head resting on your lap as he looked up at you with a cocky smile. A similar expression lit up your features as you ran your finger over his lips, before slowly moving your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, making Noah let out a deep moan. “Your booty side hoe and psychologists at your service”, you snickered. He smirked at your words once more, eyes opening again as he looked up at you from his position on your lap, "It's a lot to expect of one person, you know." You let out an overly dramatic sigh, “What can I say, you got me working overtime here” He chuckled, watching you so casually working your fingers through his hair. Making him want to lean into your touch, enjoying the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, eyes falling shut again as he spoke, "well fuck", Nowh said, his voice low, almost a grumble, "You're too good to me."

“You do come with a perk or two”, you shrugged. "Care to share some of those perks?", Noah asked, his voice low as he wiggled his brows. “Oh shut up, I ain’t about to praise you too, that comes with extra pay”, you teased, as Noah rolled his eyes, "come on, you're such a killjoy. I just want a little bit of your love." Now it was your time to rolled your eyes. Love had been a fleeting word between you two for a while now. But you never let it actually hit home. You couldn’t. “You still need to replace my bedframe after your last performance”, tapping Noah’s chest, looking at that knowing smile spreading on his face. That image and night had kept him up for quite some time. The bed frame had broke early in the morning. Noah had instantly grabbed for you, wrapping you up in his arms as he turned you over. He wasn’t sure why that had been his first reaction but it had been. Cause a part of him sensed danger and it felt like a no-brainer.

After a beat, he looked up at you again, eyes roaming down your body one more time. "Yeah, I'm still sorry about that. I'll get you a new bed altogether." “You’re sorry?”, you snorted, “you said it was the best orgasm of your life.” He smiled at the memory, nodding, "Yeah, it was fantastic. I don't think the bed frame agreed, though”, he shrugged, making you tip your head back as you laughed. Warmth spread through Noah’s chest at the sound alone. His hands began tracing up and down your legs, moving from your knees to your thighs, up and down, up and down.

He felt you clenching your legs together, running your hand down his neck as you pinched his chin. "That bed frame wasn't the only thing we broke, though." He said, smirking once again as he watched you from his place on your lap. You frowned, “what else broke?” He chuckled, a low, amused sound as the smirk on his face widened. "Let's see… I think I left a pretty nasty mark on your-" He lifted his head from her lap as he made a show of thinking for a moment, acting like he didn't already know the answer. You let out a gasp, hitting his chest, “you’re nasty…”, your cheeks going red as you shook your head. And once again there was something about knowing that he could do that. Affect you. Makes you squirm.

"I'm not that nasty.", Noah mused, turning slightly so he could kiss your exposed skin, thanking all lucky stars for the skimpy shorts you had on, “I can prove it too", muttering against your skin before biting your inner thigh. “Mhm… where are you spitting this time then?”, your voice was breathy, as you pulled at him. Noah chuckled as you called him out, his hands moving from your legs to gently grab your hips as he pulled the both of you to a sitting position. He gave your ass a little swat as you settled on his lap, "Where do you want it this time?" There was a moment of shock there before your eyes caught the same fire. The one blazing in his own. Your palm came up his neck, nails already digging into his skin, “Surprise me”, you mused. A small moan left his mouth as Noah moved his hands to grab your hips, moving his fingers beneath the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

“Just”, you nibbled on his lip, “Don’t blow in your pants this time”, Noah groaned, rolling his eyes at your response, a hand moving to grab the back of your neck. It had only happened once. He had been desperate and it had been a while since he had been sexual with anyone. “I'm sure I could last for about 20 minutes…", he paused for a beat before adding, "…on a good day." You snorted, throwing your head back with laughter once more. A different kind of laughter. A genuine one. He couldn't blame you, it was a stupid comment, and he was honestly proud of himself that it made you laugh. Yet it was short-lived since your neck was exposed to him now. So he leaned in nibbling at your throat as he pushed you down onto his already throbbing cock. You whimpered, “Oh I don’t doubt it, I’ve seen your honest work”, you mussed, teasing him.

"You've gotten to watch firsthand, haven't you?", he stated proudly, “You’re an idiot”, you shook your head leaning in to crash your lips against him, grinding against him. He was shocked for a split second, before he relaxed into your kiss, closing his eyes as you took what you wanted. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, holding you in place as he kissed you back hungrily. He moved his hand on your ass, pulling you closer, wanting to feel all of you against him. You pulled at his shirt, yanking it over his head, “Let me help you forget”.

Noah nodded, desperate eyes watching you pulling your own shirt over your head. Lushes breast bouncing with movement right in front of him. “I need you”, he grunted, leaning in, letting his tongue move over the perky nipple. “I know baby”, you cooed, “That’s why you came here after all”, and there was almost a tad of bitterness in your voice but you knew that he was too desperate to notice it. To let it sink in.

"You got that right”, Noah said with a smirk, "But… there's something I forgot to mention…", but you bit his earlobe, making Noah groan as he leaned his head to the side. With one more chased kiss you slid off his lap, sinking to your knees in front of him, eyes looking up. You could see him clenching his jaw as he looked down at you, legs spreading just a tad to make more room for you. So you liked your lips, smirked at him, before pulling at his pants.

"Baby, you don't have to", he grunted, letting out a low rumble as he pulled his eyes away from you to look around the room for a second. At anything other than the goddess in front of him. “Shh, sit back and enjoy”, you kissed his thigh, eyes never leaving his. Noah knew you were going to take care of him… you always did… you always took care of him in more than one way. He leaned his head back, a silent sigh leaving his mouth as you finally wrapped your fingers around his aching cock, spreading the precum all over. “Baby”, he whined, watching you swirl your tongue around the very tip before taking him all into your mouth. His hips bucked up, he couldn’t help it. As you bobbed your head, taking him all in, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gagged. “Fuck, fuck you feel so…”, Noah grunted, taking fistfuls of your hair between his fingers. Your choked-out moans filled the space, sending pleasure all through Noah’s body. “I could die for you on your knees”, he stated, pushing your head down his length as your drool coated his thighs. “Come on… spit on it baby”, he demanded and you instantly did as told. Pumping him in your hand as you spat the mixture of you both on the tip of his dick, keeping direct eye contact as you leaned in to lick all the way up the throbbing crown. “Jesus”, Noah ran a hand down his face as you wrapped your lips around him once more, keeping that deadly rhythm. But this was dangerous. He was too worked up.

“Come here”, pulling you back up, he watched as his dick slid out your mouth with a pop. Panting, as you climbed up his lap once more. His fingers gently wiped the tears away from your cheeks. Your eyes locked for just a heartbeat before you crashed your lips into his once more. His hands instinctively went to grab your hips, before he dipped his hand between your thighs pushing the skimpy material to the side. “Noah”, you whimpered, bracing yourself against his shoulders, so he could slide into you with ease. “You’re ready? You’re sure?”, he pulled back, looking right at you, the very tip of him lingering right there, right by your entrance. So you didn’t bother to answer, sinking into him as you pressed your forehead against him. “Shit”, “Noah, fuck”, you both grunted in unison as you slowly bottomed out. Just breathing together in the feeling of each other. Noah was the one who pulled your hips forward, urging you to move. “So… big”, you mewled, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against him. Noah instantly moved his arms around your torso, kissing your shoulder, “such a good girl, look at you”, he praised as you rocked your hips back and forth, nuzzling against him whimpering in his ear every time he hit that delicious spot deep within. This felt different in a way. It wasn’t that you always fucked, there were more intimate moments too but this felt raw somehow deeper than before. “Noah”, you cried out, snapping him back to the moment as he moved his hands beneath your bum helping you ride him as you slowly began to clench around him.

“Baby”, you pulled back, hair falling behind your shoulder as you cupped his cheeks, leaning in to kiss him. “I’ve got you gorgeous, cum for me”, Noah urged you on, kissing your collarbone before leaning in to lick up your breast. Biting your lip you clenched around him, feeling the throbbing vein pulsing each time you bottomed out. “I will…”, you whimper before the blissful flames erupt. “Shittt”, Noah whines with a loud growl, pulling you all the way down as you both come undone. You let your head fall on his shoulder as you tried to move through the last bits of chased pleaser. You could hear Noah’s heart pounding in his chest as you lean in to press a tender kiss to his neck. His still slightly shaky fingers moved to thread through your hair. These moments always frighten you. Even more so the fact that you craved them. Him staying. Holding you in his arms. So even if it was chased and careless you snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re okay?”, Noah muttered, kissing the side of your head. “I am, always when I’m with you”, you whispered looking up at him, Noah smiled down at you softly, moving his hand between you both. “Don’t”, you clasp his wrist, clenching around him, “Just for a moment”, you whisper shyly. Noah clenched his jaw, settling back down as he brings your body full flesh to flesh with his. “You know that I would give anything to you”, he admitted and the sound of these words hit him like a punch. The realization of it. The promise of it. Unsettled him slightly but he was selfish like that so he stayed put, holding you because all of a sudden letting go felt impossible to imagine.