#not that she needs it. she can handle herself. but it's the thought that counts

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[waitineedaname]

To Greed's surprise, Mei became more than comfortable with him – she actually started seeking him out. Not just when he happened to be the one piloting Ling’s body, but actively asking for him. She’d call him over to show off a new alkahestry technique she’d learned, knowing he’d gleefully cheer her on, or she’d tug on his sleeve to whisper a joke that matched his sense of humor more than Ling’s during formal meetings, or on the rare occasions when she’d bring them gifts from home, she’d make sure to bring two – one for Ling, and one for him. Despite all that, he was still surprised when she first referred to him as her brother.

I am pushing my "Greed is Mei's favorite brother" agenda, please enjoy

[finelinefae]

flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop. 

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N) 

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?" 

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night. 

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall. 

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman. 

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her. 

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed. 

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms. 

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked. 

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly. 

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy." 

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'" 

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm. 

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck.  Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals. 

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear. 

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry. 

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did. 

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her. 

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. 

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does. 

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her. 

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. 

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is." 

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?" 

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door. 

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box. 

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching. 

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened. 

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair. 

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else. 

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. 

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?" 

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss. 

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered. 

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed. 

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please," 

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything." 

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck. 

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck. 

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket. 

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin. 

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon. 

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now. 

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots. 

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her. 

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange. 

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower," 

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed. 

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck. 

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?" 

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him. 

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed. 

"You're too cute." 

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips. 

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt. 

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface. 

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone." 

She smiled. 

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things. 

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning. 

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him. 

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard. 

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat. 

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. 

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly. 

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom. 

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it. 

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth. 

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her. 

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve. 

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush." 

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something. 

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly. 

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?" 

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes. 

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh. 

"Yes daddy," She murmurs. 

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave.  Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty." 

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants. 

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers. 

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it. 

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb. 

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful. 

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole. 

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck. 

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut. 

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?" 

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-" 

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand." 

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises. 

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers. 

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting." 

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired." 

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest. 

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily. 

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

[gangplanksorenji]

Clandestine

Pairing: NewJeans’ Danielle x Male Reader

Word Count: 6,000

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This is probably the last fic I'll be writing and releasing this year because I'm getting occupied with my own endeavors. This is purely 97% a BFH fic because this Dani look is killing me.................. (god, that waist) Enjoy reading it! <3

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“Try and keep it secretive, please.”

Those words define what’s the goal—mouths shut, all within yourselves.

You’ve been living your life on the edge, playing with fire and Danielle is the gasoline that keeps igniting it and it piques you, delving for more. It’s scary, outrageous to the very least but in the greater perspective, it’s blissful and fun and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

Try, like what’s stated. It’s ultimately the goal and you’d revolve around that single word every damn time.

You have a reputation to protect, and it’s all in the means of Danielle because a single mistake can bear a scarring loss, because she has everything to lose and you’re to blame if it were to happen (the latter is speaking in hypothetical terms).

“Can’t wait, hm?” Your eyes gaze towards her, plastering a faint smile as you continue to pepper her neck with kisses that felt too euphoric on Danielle’s end.

“Ahh—how can I wait?” Her moans bless your ear, and you absolutely take that as an affirmative with her delight. She knows on herself that you’re insatiable and she hates it—temptation breaking as the both of you are speaking, and she’s feeling every ounce of your energy all over her skin.

Her hands roam around your body, feeling your kisses get herself acting up and writhing under your control. You turn, tilt her chin to face you and all you can see is a visage worth an awe. “You’re so goddamn pretty, Dani.”

These compliments just ignited the utter bliss she feels, lips curling into a smile of sincerity adding up to her impeccable beauty that no one can rival. You rest your nose onto her neck, then peppering it all over again as your hands handle her with care and the absolute ambition to let her know how much you adore her.

“You—you’re kissing me so, so good…” Danielle’s accent is candy to your ears, and you’re just replying with more intimacy. Her hands find the hem of your shirt, dexterous fingers lifting it as her primal instincts kick in until your hands hinders her advances.

Danielle whimpers, a hot breath brushing against your ear as you locked eyes onto hers. “Not yet, Dani.”

A visible pout by your sunshine, and immediately, you’re captivated but not enough to break the façade. “B-But why? Oh…”

Patience is what she needs, and as selfish as this sounds, your needs would be the priority for fulfillment.

Like what’s stated at the beginning  you’ve been living at the edge with her and thankfully, there’s no instance enough to bear such a result that would crumble a reputation. It’s just not helping where you’d be damned to live if ever Hanni catches you with such mess with Danielle and it’s doubled down with Minji—you’d be gone for good, that’s for sure, but Danielle has this hold against them that wouldn’t let you go and stick this risky relationship that could bear a scarring demise.

But who cares about that now? Not when her figure is all for your eyes to drool upon, in full display with her pants and that shirt curled into a crop top unleashing something within you—she looks unreal, sculpted to perfection as the outfit accentuates her undying hotness, a gift for you to admire and lastly, savor.

Your hands roam around that tiny waist of hers, abs flexing with your enervating touch that earns faint, sultry moans escaping her lips. You caress it and she continues her vocalization, ceaseless with your aims of adoring every inch.

“God, this fit—” Your power was evident, pulling her towards you as she gasped with your domination, and then smiled as she anticipated. “—is insane. I never thought you could be any hotter.”

It’s true, factual even, because numerous people would agree to you on how hot she looks with these kinds of fits. It does help knowing how she’s cognizant to push your buttons, and with just the tip of the iceberg, you melt and those eyes of yours tell a story.

“I knew you’d love this.” Danielle’s expressions smoulders a little, her face contorting confidence as she knows how she’s your kryptonite, and it’s mutual—even if it’s ego-driven, you can’t deny the fact that she’s alluring and you love her confidence because she knows she’s fucking hot.

You’ve seen multiple cases on the Internet, ever-so-liked within the people in various social media platforms sharing Danielle’s impeccable figure and the raises alongside it. You’re glad you’re in the first row of her show, always hitting and selfish because it’s all for you eyes to see—only you. Her fragrant smell hypnotizes you and it’s effective, luring you in and investing in more efforts into worshiping her. Kisses, suckles and licks is her threshold, currently shivering with the pleasure you give her as her ragged moans are enough for a conclusion. 

“God—please, stop…” You stop once she calls your name again, hoarse, feeling that she can’t possibly handle the way you’re treating her—you assume she’s more sensitive with you and nothing else. You’re visibly puzzled, lingering that assumption within you as you’re vocal enough to address her sudden words to feed off against her needs.

“Anything wrong, Dani?”

“I—” Her lips are quivering, hands fiddling the hem of her shirt as her doe eyes invite you to listen, and you're all ears for that. “—want this.”

You know where she’s going with this as her hands run down to your pants and near the vicinity of your nether regions and god, her fingers alone would make your beast stand up in vigor. Your hands hold hers, guiding her through the zipper as your other hand finds its way onto the valet of her curves, teasing the skin of her spine that’s enough to make her release a dulcet moan towards your lips. “How do you want it, hm?”

Your voice is alluring, predominantly teasing as the last hm signifies your interest. Danielle just moans with your repeated touches, and she’s barely coherent and mostly mumbling, what more if you're going a level further? “Can’t quite hear you, baby.”

You’re now pinning her against the wall, you weight pressing against her slightly as you eyes then face her and begged, “Just kiss me first, please.”

That please of hers was so lovely and sincere you can’t afford to lose this opportunity. You were surprised with Danielle’s initiative, cupping your cheeks as she pulled you in for a kiss and you quickly reciprocated. The sloppy sounds and the sultry moans escaping your lips signals the deprivation, and it’s all fulfilling every second that passes.

Her lips are soft and you won’t get exhausted kissing those all day, even if it means your own lips to be numb. It’s sweet and hers is torrid, the exchange heating up the permeated humidity she exuded just by herself and she’s just igniting it all throughout.

“Kissing me so good, Dani…”

“Can’t blame that you taste great.” Danielle spits the truth, her lips curling up on a smirk as she bites her lip, currently in this state of need and her face alone just lit the fire inside your heart. “Now I need this.”

She cups the apparent bulge, visibly poking onto the fabric of your pants as her daring advancements makes you utter a faint moan in which she chuckled, a victory in her possession.

“Getting too bold, are we?” It’s straightforward and lustful, and definitely, you like it. 

You’re not going to introduce the necessities for foreplay and more, and with the lust growing inside you that’s matching hers, you’ll let her do what she’s great at and with a single command, reply with immediate compliance. “Drop down to your knees, baby.”

It felt like her knees faltered, dropping down with a thud onto the cold floor as her hands then found its way onto the edge of your pants, tugging them and licking her lips in anticipation. Now loosened up, she pulls them down and lets gravity do the work, making a puddle of your clothing onto your ankles. She’ll steal glances towards you while working her wonders, and the contradicting natures of the sight just below your waist sends you into overdrive—her gleeful yet seductive smile covers up to the sins that he’s about to do, and it’s aligning all too well.

“God, I’ve never done this for a while…” Danielle’s tone permeates that self-doubt since it’s factual, marking maybe months until she’d indulged herself into something like this and it doesn’t help with the group’s busy schedules and everything that’s making their time occupied prior to this.

You tilt her head, facing towards you as her eyes meet yours, and you reassure her. “You’re a natural, Dani—besides, just let yourself be what you are.”

Let herself be, and ultimately, she knows that it’s always what she is in situations like this. Letting the doubt aside and her hunger to take over, she impatiently yanked your boxers down, joining it onto the puddle of worthless clothing down to your ankles. Danielle’s eyes glimmer with that lingering captivation as soon as the beat inside you unshackles from its clothed prison, almost hitting her in the face as it stands tall and stiff, waiting for her touch to enchant it.

She coos, hot breath within that reddish crown and you moan because of it. “Still a-as monstrous as I remembered.”

The teases probably get into you (even though her tone laces with sincerity), uttering a laugh as her lips part, a pout on display, gently kissing the leaking slit and her hands roaming around your base and onto those balls she always loves to taste. Of course, the sunshine descends down into the darkest sins, carnally worshiping your cock with an eager suck to collect that liquid you’re leaking and the profound spit that she lathers all around your length. You doesn’t leave any inch untouched with her lips and sheathed with her saliva, as her attention averts down to your balls and plays with it, her hands pumping you with a leisure pace that’s enough to wring that pleasure you’re always seeking.

“Looking great so far?” Your legs are probably viable to give out, knees shuddering as her touch sends you into the abyss of gratification. She knows the answer to such a rhetorical question, living up with the compliment you withdrew earlier and it’s factual, she's naturally skilled. “You know the answer to that, Dani—fuck…”

She replies with her tongue now dancing around your throbbing cock, her snug mouth encapsulating half of your length as she eagerly bobbed, up and down, and no stopping. Your hand finds its way onto her messy bun, tied upright with a clip and you could just let yourself feel every ounce of pleasure being brought by Danielle. 

It was hurried, ephemerally increasing the pace as her mouth gets messier, her own saliva seeping out of her mouth supports the fact. You kept moaning and it invigorates her for more, until she knows she;s approaching her limit.

She gagged and immediately pulled out, and your mouth just showered her with compliments and those eyes of her shine with your approval. “You’re incredibly gifted, god…”

“Can’t help it tastes really, really good, daddy.” The name, the word, god, she knows what buttons to push against you. 

She always does, in most cases and you’re here to indulge with the fact that she’s controlling you slowly. You would give in to her dominant nature against your cock but here, you still stand and it’s contradicting—you’re nowhere near being precarious, and you’ll take that heavenly mouth of her anyday (like you would resist it).

She voiced out your insatiability, impaling her mouth with your own length and bobbed frantically, her immediate actions sending your sensitivity onto the roof and so is the pleasure. She treats your succulence like it’s her favorite popsicle, sucking onto every inch of it and savoring the flavor that’s probably inviting her more roughness and you could feel it.

“God, Dani—shit!” You’re unable to utter coherent sentences as you’re involuntarily shouting out the pleasure she brings, and you could look down and see that smile printed onto her lips, even with a mouthful of your length. You caress her cheeks, run your fingers through her dark-colored locks that’s messy enough to compliment the disarray of her doings. 

Here it comes, those eyes of hers locking onto yours, so innocently-looking with the scintillations telling a story full of her wonders and with those very eyes of hers, you’re hypnotized. Her pace never falters, almost pumping her head and kissing your base everytime she buries her throat full of your length, and it almost makes your foundations meet its crumbling outcomes. Her gags are apparent, jerking her head onto you but she fights, because she wants to deliver the utmost pleasure you deserve and with that determination, you’re absolutely going to reward her.

The inevitable is bound to happen, as she ejects onto your saliva-sheathed length, strings of her drool connecting onto her lips and your tip, marking her shirt and soaking so little of it and she catches her breath, chest heaving with what she’d done. “G-God—oh, I—”

“Hey—you did fucking amazing, holy shit…” You’re vulgar and bold, and she doesn’t mind it because it’s mutual when you did your own oral expertise onto her—possibly no one heard her swear so much as ever before whenever you eat her out, and it’s a concealing fact that’s only exclusive between the both of you.

Her lips, swollen and pink, shiver with the sin she has done but she never regretted it, and instantly becomes gleeful once your praise is registered within her. “All for you, daddy.”

Of course it is, and she was giving her hundred percent with every second of this opportunity. There’s still a soft heart within you, consulting her as your eyebrows furrowed, subtly worried. “Are you okay, though?”

“Hah… yes, daddy—I just want more of this cock.” She’s a little exasperated from such an impressive act she’d done to you, and her smiles reassures you and with the eagerness of her livid strokes says a lot. 

Danielle holds onto your rod with a vice grip, tight enough for more moans to escape your lips as her lips find its way onto your tip, lapping up the scrumptious taste that she’s addicted to. It was evident, utterly in need for you as she didn’t build up a pace slowly for yourself to get used to, and did the opposite. The pace counts for your release, and it’s evident with the way she’s doing everything in her power to inch you closer to her deserved reward. She takes more than half of you and fondled your balls, earning the sultriest and knee-shuddering moans that urges her for more.

You avert your eyes down, and she’s occupied with your cock, hammering her mouth with it and hollowing her cheeks whenever she feels wringing out the best gratification she can muster. She’s closing her eyes, feeling every inch of you until the back of her throat, gags following and you persistently throbbed in reply with that. She tames it and you admire it, fighting the urge to release her vice grip around your length.

Your eyes then drool all over her impeccable figure, even when she’s down onto her knees—the perfectly sculpted curves of her waist to her hips while her head fades onto the sight with a bobbing blur just ignites the thought of ruining her.

You're lost under her spell, and you wanted to see those beautiful eyes of hers, as she does what she’s best at. Lifting her chin up with your index finger, you gulp and give in to your desires. “Look at me when you're sucking me off, Dani.”

She obliges as she meets your gaze, your face contorting slightly with the pleasure as her ruined visage is enough to know how much she’s enjoying it.

It’s the same cacophonous sounds that deafens your ear with, the same music you won’t get tired of listening if it means to make Danielle feel the delight she always deserves—the concoction of slurps, gags and sloppy sounds are the things at the tip of the iceberg.

Her pace increases, and now, your hands find her hair again as an outlet against the ultimate pleasure she brings, drilling into her mouth deeper without your awareness, balls slapping against her chin due to her breakneck pace. You would want to prolong the dopamine rush within your veins, but the curtain calls out to a painful denouement tha would conclude the first part of an exquisite show she’s laid upon between your legs.

The throbs are persistent, and she doesn’t have a plan to pull out and you have your own desires that’s ready to be fulfilled.

“I’m close—c-can’t hold it anymore—” You gulp right after, breaths uneven as the both of you are just savoring every second, eyes closed and yearning for more. You assess every pump her mouth does, how tight and pleasurable it is and you can’t absolutely hold it anymore until something disturbed the force of things.

A loud pop is what you’ve heard, and you can just see Danielle stroking your messy length with the fastest velocity her wrists can muster, and it just earned more moans from you. “I’ve always wanted to do this, daddy…”

You know where this is going, lips curling up a smirk and pretending to be oblivious. “Do what, exactly?”

You can feel the familiar tingle within your groin, and it’s only a matter of seconds before the inevitable paints her white. “Add up to the mess I made myself, daddy.”

“Open wide, Dani.” She does as she's told to, releasing the grip that almost strangled your length and did it yourself. 

That sullied countenance of hers is a sight to cherish, savor every second and every detail on how messy and beautiful she has become as everything concludes down to the most important act. 

You groan and point it where it belongs, a pretty canvas painted white as every inch is possibly covered with how thick your load is. Every spurt hits the features where everyone leaves with an awe, living up to the words she let go of and you did just that. Nose, cheeks, forehead, mouth and even her neck—it’s incredibly lucky how none of your load got up to her clothing, possibly writing the script of just ruining what’s just worth defiling.

If these walls could just talk, you hope they wouldn’t say anything because you will be damned if anyone catches the both of you doing such unforgiving sin.

Her lips quiver, still kneeling down as she grips your stiff cock, stroking it leisurely and then inviting you with a gleeful smile that possibly refutes the sinful sight, faking the convincing innocence. 

Those eyes of her pleads, and there her dulcet voice goes and you know you can’t turn her requests down. “May I clean your cock, daddy?”

You cup her cheek, maintaining that eye contact as your fingers trace the cum you left onto her, and then directing it onto those soft, kissable lips of hers that’s known for an abundance of talents. It was agonizing with the way you trace her features, and she suckles onto your fingers needily like she hasn't sucked the life out of you just a minute ago. She closes her eyes, relishing and humming in satisfaction with the taste she’s longing to lay her taste buds on.

You pulled out and earned a whine, and then replied with a jovial approach. “No one’s stopping you.”

No one is, and not even herself. 

Her lips parts against your engorged tip, tongue swirling around it and tidying up the mess she made. It’s sensitive and it’s the guilty pleasure—it’s slightly making you turn on even more, pushing your limits and as well as the buttons for your lust. 

“You’re fucking gifted, Dani.”

It’s these small admirations of her actions that urges her to complacency, but giving everything that she got up her sleeve. Her mouth swirls around and it and eventually, she pulls out and stares at you, reeking that anticipation that lingering within her because she knows you’re not done with her.

Once she pulls out, she remains on her knees, and you take the opportunity to scoop out the cum that stained her heavenly-sinful face, directing it onto her mouth and cleans it repeatedly. It’s nearly cleaned up, but nowhere near the finish line as the both of you are just getting started, and you’re vocalizing your frustrations evidently yet nowhere near hostile.

“Get up, Dani.” She obliges with your command, your feet kicking the clothing and deeming it useful and the sunshine that gleams innocence brews a storm, and you know she’s ready for phase two.

“Dying to be balls deep inside me, daddy?” Of course you fucking are, and she’s just asking that to rile you up and it’s effective, cock twitching up in the air as soon as she let go of such sinful words.

She knows you, and it’s just making things worse in the right ways.

Danielle’s face is just inches away from you, and you’re just dying to get that feeling of her utter tightness. You grew impatient, controlling her lithe frame with a grab on her waist, and let herself face the wall and her arms resting on it as well. She gasps with your roughness towards her, chuckling a little as she wants this kind of treatment and she deserves it. A wiggle of her petite ass invites you to just undress her bottom half, but you would admire the hourglass figure she possesses, every inch of her curves urging you to defile the living life out of her.

You deeply adore her with all your heart, unable to hurt her but whenever she invites you to be one, you wouldn’t waste the opportunity and give in to your carnal desires.

Your hands roam to her clothed butt, feeling the softness of it and how it’s perfectly sculpted and all too right. Unable to deprive yourself of such a sight, you wrap your arms around her hips, undressing her pants and unshackling her heating slit and there it goes, all for you to feast upon.

“You promised to be rough, right, daddy?” She looks over her shoulder, tone laced with high expectations as a moans follows, feeling the cold air brush against her skin. 

“If that’s what you wanted—” The restraint is now onto her ankles, then off to somewhere in the vicinity. Your eyes meeting the last bit that conceals your grand prize, but it didn’t come without a reverberating sound that earned the sexiest moans Danielle could muster. “—I’m not thinking a single thought of giving you mercy.”

Fuck, she unleashed the monster within you, and it’s all for her to take.

It wasn’t just one, but a barrage of slaps onto her petite ass, making her writhe a little and her arms shaking with the pain and pleasure you’re treating her. You mark it red, imprinted with your hands before stopping and she whines, knowing the best is yet to be introduced. 

It was another moan that escaped her lips, and with the last bit of defense down and destined to be useless, you know she’s up for a show.

“Da—oh god, daddy!” Danielle whimpers once she feels you, going deeper and earning more moans that made her body shudder with the gratification. You plunge not too deep inside her, and immediately, you are met with an overwhelming tightness that puts you in the same boat as hers in correlation with the profanities you both voice out. You grab her hips and her waist, drawing herself closer to you as she’s barely standing on her ground with your control, and you’re just within the tip of the iceberg in terms of your pace.

You give herself a breathing space, but Danielle’s plans weren't in accordance with yours, her voice coarse yet still, surprisingly sweet that urges you for more.

“More, daddy—f-fuck me harder!” Your hips increase your velocity, the initial speed of it sending her thighs in a recoil with your harshness, drilling deeper and withdrawing repeatedly that’s enough to fuck her up, senseless. Somehow, she’s even coherent to articulate words, urging you for more and yearning for you to go deeper.

“Fuck—oh my fucking god, more—aw!”

“God, you’re just so tight, aren’t you, hm?” You’re pumping her like you’re marking up your dominance against her, and it’s fulfilled, now filling her up to the brim. You marvel with her unparalleled tightness, hugging your length like it’s suffocating it and repeatedly groaning because of it. With her repetitive pleas, comes resonating spanks that just makes her leak more of that nectar, creating that wetness that runs down in rivulets on her thighs. She’s creating puddles down onto the floor due to your own rough endeavors into her pussy, legs shaking and rippling in every thrust you do that sends her into overdrive.

You’d bet she’s seeing stars right now, the reason is stated as follows: withdrawing with just the crown inside and then slamming back into her, balls deep, just right for her to delve down onto lustful, high-pitched screams that voices the overwhelming pleasure running down her veins.

This is not great, and with a harsh spank, you retort at her and make sure she’s unable to do it again. “Quiet down, Dani—you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

If it’s ever the case, then the both of you probably are. The suspicious noises are just enough for someone outside to check out what’s with the pandemonium of noises that’s just getting too familiar. You didn’t care, to the very least, continuously pounding her tight cunt and dismissing the fact about the risky unveiling of the truth.

Danielles muffled her screams with a bite on her shirt, shutting herself up and that alone makes you ignite the carnal beast within you, testing how much she can bear.

Her legs are possibly wobbling, getting weaker with how rough you are treating her as every clash of your bodies results in an addition to the symphony of moans, an ocean worth swimming in if it means your ears to get blessed.

You surely are, and you’re at the top of the world because of it. 

“God—this pussy—” You groan, spanking her and then lean on to kiss her neck, your tongue nibbling onto the pristine, milky skin as your weight gives her reasons to be dangerously precarious. “—is just phenomenal. This will always be mine.”

You marked up your territory, and Danielle knows who owns her heat, and it’s up for you to ignite it. The kiss was ephemeral, hurting her because she wanted to feel your lips longer against her neck but she’s just grateful that you’re still ruining and impaling her up to the hilt with your length. Your hands run its way back to her hips, and immediately continue with a consistent pace that inches her closer to her own high.

With the way she’s leaking like a faucet around your rapid length, you know it wouldn’t be long until she reaches euphoria.

“C-Close, daddy—so fucking close—you’re fucking m-me so, so good!” Danielle’s clearly enjoying this, and with her compliments comes your own fulfilling reply. You kept fucking her cunt like it’s going to be your last, every thrusts your hips muster clashes against her skin that accentuates roughness. 

“Please d-don’t stop fucking me—please, please!” She’s lost in the blissful trance, lust and desperation taking over as gone is her innocent image, truly in the depth and unable to go back up. You did what she pleaded as her juices coats your length in all angles, even adding up onto the puddle onto the floor and wetting down her thighs. Her knees shake, arms flailing with the impact her orgasm brings her, but you didn’t stop and fucked her through it, being in the same boat as hers—lost in the trance.

Her walls clench around you and it earns that primal roar out of you, her tightness aiding to the pleasure you’re also experiencing. You’re just cognizant with the fact that her expression probably concludes into the epitome of ecstasy, and all-throughout cockdrunked with your own reckoning. Wanting another angle to savor how her walls feel, you pull out of her and she immediately whines, asking why would you do such a thing.

“No, d-daddy—no, please, put it b-bcack in—”

“I will.” You grab her wrists and her hips, turning her around to face you and given her small figure, it wasn’t a challenge to control her. “I just wanna see your beautiful face while I ruin you again—make you cum again.”

With your strength, you squat down to inch your arms under her thighs, and immediately lifted her like it’s nothing, and with her swift recovery, her senses became aware and directed your throbbing cock inside her tightness again. She yelps and involuntarily holds onto your arms and neck, supporting her frame and continues to stare at your eyes, glistening with lust.

Her back is pressed against the wall as you thrust upwards, not even starting off slow and introducing a harsh pace, like what she wanted all along. “God, I could fuck you like this all day, Dani—god, you’re hot.”

With the way her abs flex in every thrust you do steals your attention towards it. Maybe her workouts at the gym are worth something more than what she always loves to do, and you admire how toned and perfect it is in every angle. Her supple frame and her flexible legs makes it easier to drill deeper into her cunt, uttering the sultriest and hottest moans by Danielle. With this profound angle, you’re in total domination all over her, controlling her as she gives in to you, trusting you on how you’ll ruin her with care. 

“God, daddy—you’re fucking me way too good!” It’s just the deepest primal instincts within her that’s commending the way you’re treating her, and you love every word laced within it. You continue to hammer her upwards, feeling her tightness enveloping you again as her hands find a leverage to hold on but are unsuccessful knowing it’s just a wall behind her. 

Your lips then smashes against hers, wanting to increase the libido within you as the clash is something lingering with need and hunger. Both of your lips add up to the erotic soundtrack that’s composed out of spite, filling and permeating the room with the sounds of sex and nothing more. 

You’re not going to lie, the shirt that accentuated her figure is just the perfect example of a nuisance, and Danielle hurriedly undresses it, revealing those perky tits with a white bra clasped around it. She’s just too hot to bear, and a perfect candidate to be ruined and you’re proving why she lives up to that position. She threw the shirt onto the bed beside, and continued to rest her arms onto your shoulders, then resumed her moans as it became erratic once you suckled onto her neck, inhaling the scent that you always love.

“I can’t believe h-how much of slut you are for my cock, honestly.” Even if she retaliates for a reason, she can’t deny the truth as your length turns her into a new person, consumed with lust and following you like a leash. She can’t utter a response, not when she’s being pounded into oblivion and another high inching closer towards her.

“I can’t daddy—too good! Too good!!” Her exclamations are the voices of her lustful nature, she’s possibly built just to say the same sets of words once you’ve plunged everything inside her. The cluster of the same moans and pleas escapes her lips, and you know she’s set for another blissful  climax and it’s all thanks to you.

Maybe the walls weren’t so opaque to shackle what’s behind, unveiling the secretive assault towards Danielle and you didn’t care—you’re chasing towards the promised land, to set foot there and get lost within that hill.

“Gonna cum, da—” She’s cut, and then, she releases.

Nectar seeps out to the edge of the crevices, forming rivulets and spasms that’s felt in her body, magnitudes unlocking new heights of delight as you fuck her through it, knowing your hopping onto the same boat as hers.

All things are destined to an end, and you want a conclusion worthy to paint something remarkable for the both of you.

“Outside, p-please—cum for me, daddy—” You’re still carrying her while the pleas register within you, burying your shaft and immobilizing your thrusts while coursing your way towards the bed. You throw her, not enough to hurt her but enough to hear an audible thud as you pull out, and eyeing her figure with such hunger that fueled you for another release.

“I’m gonna fucking paint that tight waist of yours, Dani.” You stroke your cock with a breakneck pace, an identical event like earlier as she invites you, her tone crumbling down your walls and building up another reward you’re eager to give.

“Then paint it, daddy—ruin me.” It’s simple yet so hot that you can’t fathom how she’s able to choose words that could fuck up the way you’re thinking. She’s embracing the eventual rain of another hot load, closing her eyes and you could count to five and not make it past three—

Then, it comes.

You aim towards her slim waist, showering the abs with numerous spurts that can rival your first one, multiple shots earning moans from your lips due to how euphoric she made you. You lick your lips, hands wringing out the pleasure and prolonging and eventually, it subsides down for you to admire the fruits of your labor—a work specifically painted meticulously, done and worked on a canvas that’s sprayed white.

Her chest heaves up and down due to the exasperating session and roughness you bestowed, but looking into her eyes, there’s no glint of regret and just grateful you’re able to show who you really are.

“God, you fucked me so well, daddy…”

Your breaths are ragged, your cock getting flaccid as Danielle still has the power to stand on her wobbly legs, your cum running down her porcelain skin and her hands finding its way onto your beast, still urging for something more.

“All for—argh—you, Dani—all for you, god…” The sensitivity skyrockets, but it doesn’t matter, not when you’re finding her lips again, exchanging torrid and intimate kisses.

As you’re about to find your way onto the fine plane of her spine, and towards her ass, a heavy set of knocks baffles the both of you, and it’s fucked up 

“Dani, why are you taking so long right there? Hello, are you there with him? What are the both of you doing??” It’s a familiar voice and your senses are heightened, and with an anxious look, Danielle reassures you and shouted words that would possibly assure the girl that everything’s fine.

“Hanni’s gonna kill me, Dani—”

“Shhh…” Her fingers meet your lips, muting you for more advances that won’t help the situation. You help her clean up with the tissue that’s on her desk and hurriedly dress yourselves up, looking presentable as much as possible. “It’s fine—nothing’s going the wrong way, daddy.”

You’re living your life on the edge, and you would be damned for dear life if Hanni unveils the truth yet Danielle’s golden personality outshines that and it’s only a matter of time before she puts those onto the test.

You can end up on both roads of besmirchment, that expected disappointment from Hanni or a surprising turn of acceptance but one thing’s for sure: you achieved what the both of you wanted, and that concludes up onto a triumphant note, all wins and no losses.

[nevernonline]

✧.* heartbreak girl; csc one shot.

synopsis: Seungcheol struggles with his feelings for his best friend, y/n, who is caught in a complicated relationship. As he watches her suffer from heartbreak, he finds it increasingly difficult to conceal his love for her.

paring: seungcheol x fem! reader. 

genre:friends2lovers

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) some minor sexy stuff, but not much really.

word count: 8.6k

content: . non-idol idolings, big brother Joshua. asshole boyfriends yk. Cheol is painfully in love.

note: non edited prob weird typos, xo.

Seungcheol stood outside the bustling café, the familiar sound of laughter and chatter spilling through the door like an intoxicating aroma. He had been meaning to meet his friends here for a while, but his heart wasn’t in it tonight. Instead, it felt heavy, aching at the thought of her—Y/n, his best friend and the girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart.

They had grown up together, their lives intertwined like the branches of the old oak tree that sat as the bridge between their childhood bedrooms. Seungcheol had always been protective of y/n, watching from the sidelines as she navigated the ups and downs of her life. But just recently, something had shifted between them, a current of unspoken words and emotions that neither dared to acknowledge.

He pushed open the door and made his way through the crowd, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. Y/n sat at a corner table, her hair cascading over her shoulders, lost in conversation with another friend. But Seungcheol could see it in her eyes—the flicker of worry, the slight downturn of her lips. He knew her better than anyone, and lately, she had seemed off.

His heart raced as he approached the table, steeling himself for the inevitable conversation. “Hey, Soojin, Y/n.” he greeted, forcing a smile despite the turmoil brewing inside him.

“Seungcheol! You made it!” Y/n exclaimed, the warmth of her voice wrapping around him like a comfort blanket. But as her expression shifted to one of concern, he could see the cracks behind her cheerful facade.

“You okay?” he asked, unable to hide the worry in his own voice.

“Yeah, just... a lot going on,” she said, brushing it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Seungcheol glanced at her friend, who seemed to sense the underlying tension and quickly excused herself. The moment of solitude felt charged, and Seungcheol knew they needed to talk.

“Listen, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me,” he urged, leaning forward. “I’m your friend, Bunny. I want to help.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s just... Alex,  dating has been, and it’s... complicated. I think he might be seeing someone else.”

Seungcheol remembered when Y/n first started dating her current partner, he was alright, nothing special compared to the girl who was standing in front of him. 

past

When he first met y/n boyfriend she had just gotten back from college for the weekend as Seungcheol stepped onto her front lawn waiting inside patiently next to y/n’s brother Joshua, he was considering running down the sidewalk to her when a guy appeared out of the front seat to hug her mother. It was in a flash of a moment he knew this guy was her boyfriend. 

Seungcheol's heart sank, but he tried impossible hard to maintain a composed exterior. He forced a smile and greeted y/n with a wave as she approached, her boyfriend trailing beside her. Joshua nudged Seungcheol gently, giving him an encouraging nod.

"Hey, Seungcheol!" y/n called out, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "It's so good to see you!"

"Good to see you too, Bunny," Seungcheol replied, his voice steady. "How is school, my little scholar?"

"It’s been great, but I’ve missed home, especially your mom’s cooking," she said, glancing at her boyfriend. "Oh, Shit. I should introduce you! This is Alex."

Alex extended a hand towards Seungcheol. "Nice to meet you, man."

"Nice to meet you too," Seungcheol said, shaking his hand firmly. He noticed how Alex's grip was strong but not overbearing, a sign of confidence and respect.

The four of them stood there for a moment, the air filled with unspoken words. Joshua, sensing the tension, quickly suggested, "Why don't we all head inside? Mom made us some lemonade. Feel free to spike it yourself."

Of course they all agreed, and as they walked towards the house, Seungcheol couldn't help but steal a glance at y/n. She seemed happy, and that was what mattered most to him, even if it meant watching from the sidelines.

Inside, the house was filled with the comforting aroma of freshly squeezed lemon, probably just a room spray her mom thought would make her lemonade pop more, which helped make Cheol smile even more. y/n's mother greeted them with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with joy at having her two kids home. The group settled into the cozy living room, the atmosphere gradually easing into one of laughter and shared stories.

Seungcheol listened intently, contributing when he could, but mostly observing the dynamics between y/n and Alex. He noticed the small gestures of affection, the way they seemed to understand each other with just a glance. It was clear they shared a deep connection.

As the evening wore on, Seungcheol felt a mix of emotions. There was an undeniable pang of that little green monster creeping in, but also a sense of acceptance. He realized that y/n's happiness was the most important thing, and if Alex was the one who brought that to her, then he would do his best to support her wholeheartedly.

Later, after many sneaks to Joshua’s hidden liquor, too many slices of pizza, and card games, they all stood on the porch saying their goodbyes, y/n gave Seungcheol a tight hug. "It really is good to see you, Seungcheol. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I won't," he promised, his voice sincere. "Take care of yourself, y/n."

“You know I always do,” she gripped onto his sweatshirt sleeve, and flashed her award winning smile his way, “And if I find myself in need of a body guard I’ll be sure to call you.” 

With one last wave, Seungcheol watched as she and Alex walked down the driveway, hand in hand. He sighed softly, turning to Joshua who gave him a sympathetic look.

"Come on," Joshua said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go get a beer, bro. My treat."

Seungcheol nodded, grateful for Joshua's friendship. As they walked away, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Life had a way of surprising you, and he knew that his story was far from over.

A few months had passed now and finally the  sun was shining brightly as their friend group gathered around the picnic table, laughter and chatter filling the air. Plates of food were being passed around, and the aroma of grilled meat wafted through the garden. Which sure, sounded a little gross, but it was just another sign of the changing of seasons, but not the changing of where his heart was gravitating. Y/N was in her element, flitting from one group to another, her energy infectious.

Seungcheol watched her from a distance, like he usually would, holding a fond smile on his lips. He couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly she brought people together, how her presence seemed to light up even the most simple of places.

"Hey, earth to Idiot!" Y/N's voice broke through his daydream. She was standing in front of him, hands on her hips and a playful glint in her eyes. "Are you ready for our trip tomorrow?"

He grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I knew you’d never disappoint me!" she exclaimed, her smile widening. "It's going to be the best one yet, I can feel it. Something about the smell of the rain this year tells my heart the flowers will be perfect.”

Seungcheol chuckled, captivated by her excitement. "You and your weird as fuck sixth sense about flowers," he teased gently.

She punched him playfully. "Hey, don't underestimate my flower intuition. It's never wrong. It’s like how you always can for some reason tell how many people got a draft beer before you based on some fucked up freshness level you created. I mean we could always take a bet and see who everyone thinks is more insane.” 

As the evening wore on, they continued to chat and laugh, the anticipation for their trip growing with each passing moment. The backyard was now filled with the soft glow of fairy lights, casting a magical ambiance over the gathering. And Seuncheol was still sitting with Y/n listening to her talk on and on about her new weird interests. 

"Remember the first time we went on this trip?" Y/N asked, her gaze distant as she reminisced. "We got lost for hours, and you were so convinced that we were going to get mauled by a bear or a cougar or something?” 

“We didn’t have gas or cell service. I feel like it was a fair assumption to make.” Seungcheol smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed  remembering how he embarrassed himself around her even though he’s sure there were worse incidents. 

“But, we were at a reststop.” 

“But it was pouring rain, y/n. Come on.” 

“Fine, I’ll let you have it,” she ruffled her pretty hands through his hair “I still think you’re silly.” 

“You’re always so mean to me, when I do everything for you.” 

“It’s just so easy.” 

“By the way,” Seungcheol rubbed his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans, “Where’s Alex this weekend?” 

“Uh,” Y/n gave him a soft smile that he wasn’t so convinced was real, “With his parents in Antigua I think? Not sure, some weird beach vacation. Sounds boring.” 

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, sensing the underlying tension in Y/n's tone. “Antigua, huh? Must be nice,” he replied, his voice deliberately casual, though he couldn't help the hint of envy creeping in. 

Y/n shrugged, her smile flickering momentarily. “Yeah, I guess. But honestly, I’d much rather be here, hanging out with you guys. This is way more fun. And don’t tell Josh, but I miss seeing him every day.”

“Seriously?” Seungcheol asked. “I mean, it’s a tropical paradise, and you’d choose me and your brother over that?”

“Absolutely,” she said, her gaze meeting him with sincerity. “Why would I want to be stuck on a beach when I could be here, laughing and just… being ourselves? This is way more my style.”

Her words warmed him, but a knot of unease tightened in his stomach. “So, no Alex for the weekend, then,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Y/n bit her lip, a flicker of thought crossing her face. “Honestly, I don’t know. I guess it’s a bit of both? It’s nice to have some time to myself. But… you know how it is.” She trailed off, her eyes drifting away as if contemplating something deeper.

“Yeah, I do. Relationships can be complicated,” Seungcheol replied, his heart racing at the opportunity. “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

She turned back to him, and her expression softened. “Thanks, Seungcheol. That means a lot.”

As the evening wore on, Seungcheol found himself lost in conversations with old friends and making new ones. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, a perfect reflection of Y/N's spirit.

Later, as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Seungcheol and Y/N found themselves talking through their open childhood bedroom windows. 

"Thanks for always being there, Seungcheol," Y/N said softly, her gaze fixed on picking at her nails..

He watched her, his heart swelling with affection. "Always, Y/N. That's what friends are for."

She leaned her head on her hand, and they stared at each other, both hoping that no matter where life took them, they would always have each other.

At that moment, Seungcheol realized that sometimes, the most beautiful places were the ones you were at with the people you cared about the most.

As Seungcheol sat in his dimly lit room, the flickering glow of the y/n’s Scooby-Doo night light shone in his window, transporting him back to the warmth of Y/n’s presence. He could picture her room perfectly: the walls adorned with posters of their favorite shows, remnants of their laughter still hanging in the air. It had always been a haven for her—a place where her dreams intertwined and her deepest secrets were shared.

Years passed quickly, and that cherished tradition of celebrating their friendship had drifted away like fall leaves caught in a breeze. Life took them in separate directions, and despite the countless apologies Y/n sent his way, Seungcheol could never quite shake the feeling of loss. He always believed that she knew how much those moments meant to him; her absence felt like a missing piece of his heart that was waiting to be filled.

While he tried to move on, dating a variety of girls who were kind and entertaining, none of them were Y/n. He often found himself comparing their laughter to hers, their quirks to the little things he cherished about her. It felt like an act of treason against the relationships he pursued, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the old feelings from creeping back into his heart.

As he reflected on it all, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Why couldn't he just let go? It was foolish to cling to a childhood crush on your best friend's little sister that seemed to grow more distant by the day. But deep down, he sensed that what he felt for Y/n was something more profound than a simple infatuation. She was his first crush, someone he confided in, and the keeper of so many memories that covered his soul with nostalgia and warmth.

It was during one of those restless nights, when the weight of her absence pressed heavily on his chest, that he made a decision. Seungcheol had to  reach out to Y/n. No more waiting for the right moment or hoping for a chance meeting. He needed to tell her how he felt, how much he still cared, and how he longed for the connection they once shared.

Building up his courage the moment turned into an eternity as he waited, and just as doubt began to creep in, his phone buzzed, it was her calling him as if he had manifested catching up with her. 

Seungcheol's heart raced as he saw Y/n's name flash across the screen. Just the sight of it sent a jolt of anxiety through him, he pushed it down and tried to take it as a reminder of all the times they had spent together, laughing until their sides hurt or sharing secrets late into the night, almost like excitement. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the accept button, uncertainty warring with excitement. 

But before he could overthink it any longer, he pressed "accept" and set his phone to the speaker. “Y/n?”

“Cheol!” Her voice was bright, and it ignited something deep within him—an undeniable longing. “I can’t believe I finally caught you. I’ve missed you so much, sorry for the phone tag, I have been so fucking busy. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, his voice steadier than he felt. “It’s been way too long. I was just thinking about texting you when you called.”

“I feel bad for not making it home to see you lately,” she admitted, a hint of regret in her tone. “But.. uh, I’d love to fix that. How about we get together this weekend, like we used to? Maybe invite Soojin? Joshua?” 

“Let’s do it.” A smile spread across his face. “We can go to that bar we used to sneak into and catch a show legally now?” 

“Sounds perfect. Do me a favor?” she said, genuine enthusiasm shining through her words.

“Yes?” he waiting on the other end of the line hearing her giggling slightly to herself. 

“Wear that old Sonic Youth t-shirt you have?” 

“Why would I wear that?” 

“Not sure. I just like that t-shirt. Please?” 

Seungcheol’s heart swelled at the thought of being with her again, but he also felt the weight of unresolved feelings pressing on him. They’d both changed, but would the bond they shared still resonate the same way? Would she see him as just her brother’s friend or as something more?

As they continued to chat, Seungcheol tried to gauge her tone, the way she spoke about her life, the little nuances that indicated where she stood. Y/n spoke about college, her friends, and of course Alex.Her enthusiasm was infectious. But every laugh pulled him further back into the past, to the innocent moments when everything had felt so uncomplicated.

“Hey, Y/n,” he ventured, his heart beating a little faster as he gathered his thoughts. “I’ve been meaning to ask… How are you handling everything? I know things have changed for both of us.”

Y/n paused, and he could almost hear her brain processing the question. “Honestly? It’s been a bit of a whirlwind. I’m still figuring things out, but having people around who care makes it easier.”

“Yeah, I feel that,” he said, wishing he could just lay bare his feelings, let his heart spill out the way they used to share their secrets. “You know, I’ve always been here if you need someone to talk to.”

Her voice softened, and he could sense the shift in the conversation. “I know, and I appreciate that, Cheol. You’ve always been there for me, just like… well, I cant think of something always there for something else, but you get it..”

They fell into a comfortable rhythm again, but as the call slowly wound down, Seungcheol felt a flicker of resolve.

As they said their goodbyes, he heard Y/n’s voice resonate with warmth, and for a moment, the distance between them felt almost non-existent. “See you this weekend, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it,” Seungcheol replied, his heart racing at the endless possibilities that lay ahead. 

Closing his phone, he let out a deep breath, a smile breaking across his face. The connection he had yearned for was just around the corner, and as he lay back on his bed, he knew that this time, he wouldn’t hold back. 

present:

His heart sank at the words, a wave of frustration washing over him. “You deserve so much better than that,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Don’t let anyone treat you like you’re not worth it. How do you know he’s cheating on you?

Y/n took a shaky breath, the anguish evident in her expression. “I’ve seen the signs—the late nights, the changing passwords, the way he ducks away when I try to talk about us.” She paused, her voice cracking slightly. “I just feel it deep inside, like this gnawing instinct that something isn’t right.”

Seungcheol felt his protectiveness swell within him. The thought of anyone treating her poorly made his blood boil. “Those signs aren’t just coincidence, Y/n. People shouldn’t make you second-guess yourself like that.”

She looked down, her fingers tracing the patterns on her jeans. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but the more I try to brush it aside, the more it eats away at me. I just wish I had the strength to confront him.” 

“You do have that strength,” he urged, leaning closer, wanting to make eye contact to convey just how serious he was. “You’re stronger than you think. No one should keep you in the dark or make you feel like you have to doubt yourself. But if you need my help or anyone elses you know you can ask us right? You don’t have to fight it alone. Is that why you’ve been avoiding us lately?” 

“Yeah and I’m sorry I’m embarrassed. But what if I’m wrong? What if I confront him and it turns out I’m just being paranoid?” A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away in frustration, the vulnerability on display pulling sharply at Seungcheol’s heart.

“Y/n, you’re not paranoid; you’re being cautious. People should earn your trust, not break it. If he really cared about you, he’d be open and honest, not leave you guessing.” Seungcheol felt a surge of emotion, desperately wanting to help her see the truth. “You have every right to bring up your concerns. If he reacts poorly, that’s a huge huge fucking red flag.”

She nodded slowly, another tear escaping despite her efforts to contain them. “I just don’t want to lose more than what I already feel like I’ve lost.. I just don’t know what to do, I guess. I’m sorry I’m ruining our fun.”

At that moment, Seungcheol couldn’t help but reach out, gently cupping her chin with his fingers so she would look up at him. “You are never ruining our fun, by telling us how you feel. Remember, you’re the one who deserves to be valued, not just by him, but by everyone in your life, especially those who say they love you.”

Their eyes locked, and he felt a change in the air around them—a connection that transcended the conversation that was sinking like a stone. “You deserve love that lifts you up, that makes you feel secure. Not a relationship that makes you doubt your worth and changes your life poorly.”

“Cheol…” she started, but he could see the struggle in her eyes, the facade of strength crumbling as the truth sunk in. She was scared, scared of the possibilities, but perhaps also scared of how much this all mattered to her.

“I’ll be right here with you, no matter what happens,” he promised, his voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside him. “We’ll figure this out together. You don’t have to face any of it alone.” 

Y/n's expression softened, and the tension in her shoulders eased just a little. “Thank you. It just helps to know someone cares I guess.” 

Seungcheol nodded, yearning to break through the last barriers between them. “I’ve always cared for you, Y/n. Always. And I’ll keep caring, no matter what.” Even as those words left his mouth, he felt a weight in his chest—he wanted her to see just how much more she meant to him than mere friendship, but the time for that would come later. Right now, she needed a friend in her corner, and he would be that friend, no matter what. “Should we have a drink now?” 

She smiled at him again, giving him a side hug. “Yes, maybe some shots too?” 

Seungcheol immediately got to his feet and winked as he bee-lined for the bar standing next to Joshua and Soojin, filling them in on his conversation with y/n. The three of them didn’t mention it the rest of the night, but just made sure to give her the best time dancing and forgetting about her shitty relationship issues before the alcohol settled in her system too much and Cheol had to carry her home. 

Joshua unlocked their front door and slid into the house quietly rushing in the three other party goers in hopes not to wake his mom up considering it was a work night. 

Y/n brother pulled her shoes off and rested them at the front door, basically begging Seungcheol to carry her up to her bedroom so he could go get Soojin some pajamas and change his sheets for her in his room which Cheol obliged being the most sober. 

As he was carrying his friend to bed she looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know I’m drunk, but I don’t want to get my hopes up only to be disappointed again. I just... feel so lost.”

Seungcheol felt a pang of concern as he adjusted his grip on her, his heart aching at the vulnerability etched across Y/n's face. He knew the night had been a whirlwind—filled with laughter, dancing, and fleeting moments of joy—but now, as he carried her up the stairs, her honesty pierced through the haze of alcohol.

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady and reassuring. “It’s okay to feel lost. You’ve been through a lot. But just remember, you have lots of people riding for you. 

Y/n blinked slowly, her features wavering as she processed his words. “I don’t want to burden you,” she admitted, almost whispering. “I don’t want you to be sad because of me.

Seungcheol paused just outside her bedroom door, carefully shifting her weight so she wasn't too uncomfortable. “You’re not a burden, Y/n. Friends support each other. That’s what we do.”

Her lips trembled slightly, and she looked down, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just... I wish I could see things clearly. I want to believe it’ll get better, but I’m scared it won’t.” 

He took a deep breath, choosing his buzzed words carefully. “It’s natural to feel scared. Change is intimidating, especially when it comes to relationships that have been so significant in your life. But that doesn’t mean you can’t start taking the steps to find what you really deserve. Like we talked about earlier. You’re worth that big true love, Y/n, even if you can’t see it just yet.”

Looking into her eyes, he noticed the flicker of hope battling against the weight of her sorrow. “You deserve to feel loved, celebrated and so fucking cherished, not just tolerated. And trust me,” he added, trying to inject a touch of warmth into his words, “the right person will come along, maybe they already have. You’re incredible.”

Y/n’s gaze held onto his, searching for truth in his words. “Do you really think so?” 

“Yes, loser,” he affirmed, nodding. “I’ve been singing your praises for years, remember I did write a letter to Harry Styles trying to get him to go out with you when he was still on X-Factor so until that person comes along, I’m right here.” He started moving again, gently pushing the door open with his knee.

As he stepped inside, he carefully laid her onto the bed, her comfort a priority in the quiet space. “Just rest for now. Tomorrow is a new day. You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. Just let it go.”

She looked up at him, her expression softening as the corners of her mouth edged toward a small smile. “Thanks, CheolieI don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he assured her, tucking the blanket around her. “You’re stuck with me now.” He grinned, feeling the lightness of the moment wash over them, dispelling some of the heavy emotions lingering in the air.

She laughed softly, a sound that melted some of the tension from his chest. “Okay, but just for tonight! Tomorrow, I’ll have to start figuring things out. And can you do me one more incredibly annoying awkward favor that we never have to speak of again?” 

“Deal,” he replied playfully. “Depending on how embarrassing it is?” 

“Can you help me put on my pajamas? Or at least unbutton my shirt for me, I’m so warm and too drunk to care right now.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly masked his shock with a teasing grin. “Wow, is y/n too drunk to get undressed herself, it’s bringing me back to when you had your senior party.”

Y/n shrugged, her cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the sudden vulnerability of the moment. “I’m serious! I can’t get the buttons right now,” she grumbled, a laugh escaping her lips as she realized just how ridiculous the request was.

“Shut up, it’s fine.” he said, trying to maintain the playful spirit of the moment while also respecting her boundaries. “But you have to promise me you won’t regret this in the morning.”

“How could anyone regret that the night star football player and homecoming king four years running Choi Seungcheol took their clothes off?” she replied with a slight smirk. “Can we actually stop fucking around though and  focus on getting me comfy so I can pass out without feeling like I’m wearing a fucking straightjacket.”

“Didn’t know you thought so highly of me,” he smirked back, trying to suppress his nervousness. Carefully, he shifted to sit beside her on the edge of the bed, ensuring he kept the atmosphere light and respectful. “I’ll work my special magic.”

He helped her sit up and, taking a deep breath, gently began unbuttoning her shirt. With each button he opened, he focused on keeping his movements steady and casual,trying not to touch inappropriately whatsoever,  stealing glances at her face rather than her torso. “See, I’m not so bad at this, right? Even being out of practice.” he joked, trying to ease any tension in the air. 

Y/n chuckled softly, her laughter lightening the mood. “Yeah, you’re doing great. Just stop making it weird.”

“Me? Make it weird? Psh.” he teased back, his heart racing slightly as he continued, relieved that her demeanor was playful. As the last button came undone, he carefully helped her shrug the shirt off, revealing a soft bra top underneath. 

“You literally just confessed to not getting laid in a long time, weirdo. Too much information.” 

“God, shut up, I did not” he said, letting out a sigh of relief as he set the shirt aside. “Mission accomplished.. But it’s a good look, just so you know.”

“You’re just buttering me up to make me forget this moment, Cheol,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes despite her slightly vulnerable state.

“Wouldn’t dream of it! This moment is going straight into the  archives as ‘That Time I Helped Y/n Get Ready for Bed,” he said, crossing his arms defiantly.

Y/n giggled, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous. 

Seungcheol felt warmth radiate in his chest at her words. “And you’re worse,” he said genuinely, his smile softening. “Now get some rest, cutie. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything else.” 

“You can stay here if you want? Joshua is sleeping on the couch because Soojin’s in his room.” 

“Oh, uh. I’ll be alright on the floor downstairs. You get some sleep okay?” 

“Goodnight, Cheolie,” she whispered, nearly missing him calling her an affectionate name, her eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of sleep began to envelop her.

“Goodnight, Bunny.” He watched her peaceful expression for a moment, then stood up from the edge of her bed and made his way to the door, feeling a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, he felt pride in being there for her, but a flicker of longing stirred inside him, reminding him of how much he truly fell in love with her.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he leaned against the wall, contemplating going back in there and comforting  her for the night but also how it could affect their friendship and the feelings that lingered just below the surface. Tonight wasn't just another night; it felt like a turning point. Seungcheol had no idea where it would ultimately lead, but for now, he was grateful to be her anchor, even in the midst of uncertainty.

The next morning rolled in like a thunder cloud for y/n, she remembered walking home, but not much after that. She sat up under her pink fuzzy blanket in nothing other than her bra and skirt she had on the night before, her hair smooshed up on the back of her head like a pancake. 

She couldn’t remember how she had gotten there but whoever took her upstairs left a glass of water on the nightstand and two tylenol. She smiled, grateful people have always looked out for her like this. Downing the two white pills and the entire glass of water she shot up and headed for the bathroom, walking in non- chalantly thinking nobody was behind the white door. As she turned the knob a voice came ringing in her ears. 

“Josh I told you- Oh,” Seungcheol was shirtless with nothing but his wet hair cascading down his face and his towel wrapped around his body parts.” Y/n sorry.. I was just uh.. Finished.” 

She slapped her hands over her eyes whispering a sorry and running back into her room, feeling a blush hit her cheeks. 

Y/n's heart raced as she slammed the bathroom door shut and ran down the hall slamming her bedroom door shut her back against it, her mind swirling with embarrassment. She could practically feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she replayed the scene in her head. How had she not realized Seungcheol was right there? 

After taking a moment to collect herself, she peeked out through her fingers, her heart still pounding. “No, no, no. Why did I have to walk in like that?” she muttered under her breath, doing her best to calm the embarrassment bubbling up inside her. She could still picture Seungcheol’s surprised expression, 

With a deep breath, she reminded herself to take it easy. “You’re both adults.And your friends like it, it's fine.  Mistakes happen,” she whispered, trying to rationalize the embarrassment.

Y/n slowly shuffled back to her bed and flopped down face-first into her pillow, groaning. “Why is this my life?” she lamented silently, wanting to sink into the depths of her blankets and hide from the world altogether.

After a couple of minutes spent wallowing in her own pity, she finally sat up and took stock of the situation. She had to laugh at herself; if anyone could handle a little awkwardness, it was definitely Seungcheol.

With newfound resolve, she decided to brush off the incident. After all, she couldn’t stay cooped up in her room forever, and eventually, she would have to interact with him. 

Rubbing her eyes, she stood up, her body still feeling a bit wobbly from the residual effects of last night. She padded over to her wardrobe and found a comfy oversized sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts to throw on. Just as she was finishing zipping up the  sweatshirt, her door creaked open, and she heard Seungcheol’s voice. 

“Uh... hey, Y/n?” 

She froze, heart racing at the thought of confronting him after their embarrassing encounter. “Y-yeah?” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. 

“I just wanted to check if you were okay. I heard you might have had a bit too much fun last night,” he said, his tone laced with gentle teasing but lacking the usual bravado. 

Y/n felt her cheeks warm again, but she twisted the moment into playful sarcasm. “Yeah, I clearly have my life together. Who wouldn’t want to walk into a bathroom with a half-naked guy?” 

His laughter echoed, and she couldn’t help but smile despite herself. “Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting a guest, either.”

“So, uh, thanks for... you know, taking care of me last night.”

“Of course,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’ll help you with whatever.” 

She nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. “Yeah, but still! I really appreciate it.” 

Seungcheol’s smile faded slightly, replaced with an earnest expression as he leaned against the doorframe. “Y/n,It’s not a big deal. I’ve been doing it for years, I don’t mind.” 

She bit her lip, feeling that familiar flutter in her stomach at the intensity of his gaze and the sincerity behind it. “For real, Cheol. Thanks. I mean it. Just accept the sincerity.” 

“Alright, alright,” he said, breaking the moment by giving her a grin, “Want to get some breakfast or something? I’ll whip us up something..” 

“That sounds great,” she agreed, “But, I actually have something I need to go do today. How about I see you later? A movie or something maybe?” 

“Yeah, you know where to find me.” 

“Of course.” 

If today was going to be the most awkward day of her life, fine. She could handle it. Now arming herself with coffee, she had the feeling it was going to turn out just fine.What started with a flustered memory could lead to deeper conversations, and maybe even something more. First she had to confront Alex about his infidelity and then she can go back to these thoughts. Still, she giggled to herself as she thought about it—this was definitely going to be a morning they’d both remember.

Y/n parked her car in front of Alex’s apartment complex, her whole drive here she made up fake conversations to have with him in her head some of her intrusive thoughts started to get to her as she imagined much more crazy ways of how to confront him, but she knew she’d cry. She knew how hard it would be for her no matter what his answer was, yes or no, but she had to do it. 

Somehow she knew either way that she may be grateful it gave her the courage to break up with him in general. 

Getting out of the car, Y/n felt a mix of determination and fear. The weight of unresolved emotions pressed down on her chest as her shoes tapped against the pavement. She took a moment to inhale deeply, trying to steal a bit of calm before walking through the threshold that would dictate the direction of her life. She climbed the few steps to Alex’s building and pressed the intercom buzzer.

After a few moments, a crackling voice came through. “Who is it?” 

“It’s Y/n,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

“Y/n? Oh, hey babe.! Come on up!” The excitement in his tone gave her a strange mix of hope and dread. Would he be as cheerful when they talked about the mess that had unfolded? 

When she reached his door, she hesitated, heart racing. Did she really want to do this? But even as the question surfaced, she felt the guilt gnawing at her. She owed it to herself.

Gathering her courage, she knocked. After a moment, the door swung open, and Alex stood there, looking casually handsome in a simple tee and jeans, a wide smile on his face. “Hey baby, It’s so good to see you. I thought you were hanging with your brother this weekend?” 

“Hey,” she replied, forcing a smile, even as her stomach churned. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah of course. Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let her through. As she entered, a rush of familiarity enveloped her—his scent, the slight clutter that was reminiscent of their time together. It should have felt comforting, but instead, it ignited a sense of dread.

She followed him into the living room, where the remnants of his gaming session littered the floor. The sight pulled at her heartstrings—how many times had they shared moments in this space? But those memories felt crushed by the deceit that loomed over them now.

“Wanna drink something? I just made coffee.” he offered, heading toward the kitchen.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” Y/n tucked her hair into the back of her sweatshirt, feeling uncharacteristically fidgety. “Alex, I really just need to talk.”

“What’s on your mind?” He settled onto the couch, beaming with an eagerness that pitted her stomach against her better instincts. 

She took a breath, the words sticking in her throat. “I... um, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” 

“Yeah? About what?” His expression shifted to curiosity, and she suspected he had no inkling of the storm about to descend.

“About us, about everything that’s happened,” she started, trying to gauge his reaction. His smile faltered just a bit, and her heart sank. “I found out about the other girl.”

His demeanor changed instantly. The confident glimmer in his eyes vanished, replaced by confusion. “Y/n, I—”

“Let me finish,” she interrupted, her tone firmer than she anticipated. She crossed her arms, drawing strength from her resolve. “I don’t want to hear excuses. I just need to know if you even care at all about what this does to our relationship.”

“I do care! I didn’t mean for it to happen.” He looked defensive, yet Y/n couldn't muster sympathy at this moment. 

“Didn’t mean for what to happen? To hurt me? To also keep her a secret?” Her voice was steady, but her chest tightened as emotions swelled within. “How many times did you lie to me? How can I trust anything you say now?”

“Y/n, please. It was a mistake. I never wanted to hurt you,” he pleaded, his expression shifting from confusion to desperation.

“And yet, here we are!” she raised her voice,, feeling the anger rise, mixed with a sorrow that threatened to spill over. “I don’t know if you understand how this makes me feel. I didn’t deserve to be anything less than faithful.”

“Oh and your brothers friend is jus-” 

“Shut up for one goddamn second.” 

Alex opened his mouth in surprise, as if he was about to argue, but Y/n pressed on, the truth spilling out. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that we could make it work, that you’d change. But the more I think about it, the more I realize—it’s not just a mistake. It’s a choice you made. You don’t actually love me enough to just be with me.” 

“Y/n...” he started, but she cut him off again, her gaze unwavering.

“It made me realize I deserve better  than what you’ve given me. I need to take care of myself.” 

An overwhelming silence consumed the room. Alex’s face hardened as he processed her words, the reality of what was happening sinking in. 

“I just... I thought we had something special,” he muttered, hurt flickering in his eyes. 

“We did,” she whispered, a pang of regret cutting through her. “But that’s the thing, Alex. You fucking ruined  it.”

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she squared her shoulders. “We have to break up.” 

“Y/n, wait. I can change. I swear! Just give me another chance! I’ll do better!” His plea hung in the air, desperately. 

But she knew better now. “I don’t think I can forgive you for this. And I don’t think I want to try. I need to move on and find myself again.”

She turned to leave, heart racing in her chest. As she reached for the doorknob, Alex’s voice caught her once more. “I wish you’d let me explain...”

She paused but didn’t turn around. “There’s nothing left to say, Alex.” 

With a shaky breath, she stepped outside, the cool air hitting her like a wave of clarity. Y/n stood for a moment on the threshold, allowing herself to breathe freely for the first time in weeks. 

As she walked down the stairs and toward her car, the weight of the conversation pressed upon her, but in a different way. It was a weight lifted.

She took out her phone and texted Seungcheol. “IT'S OVER, lol. Can we still do that movie later? I could really use a friend.”

Seconds later, her phone buzzed with his response. “What’s over? Did you break up with that fucker? Thank god. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

A smile broke through her earlier sorrow, and she felt the corners of her heart begin to heal just a little. She hadn’t expected this day to lead her in a new direction, but she was ready for whatever came next. One awkward day down, and the next chapter was waiting.

On her drive back y/n knew she shouldn’t be thinking about jumping into her relationship with Seuncheol now, but she also knew she wasted so much time with other jerks never giving him a chance, but it’s what she wanted she just had to figure out how to make it happen. 

She pulled into Seuncheol’s driveway, bag of snacks in hand. Shutting her car door with her backside, nearly skipping up to his front door where he stood waiting for her with open arms dressed in his pajamas. 

The sight of him, all cozy and relaxed, made her heart flutter. Seuncheol's smile was infectious, and she couldn’t help but return it as she stepped into his warm embrace. The delicious scent of something cooking wafted through the door behind him, complementing the warmth and comfort he radiated.

“Well, well, well, Miss. Bad Bitch,” he exclaimed, pulling away and taking her bag of snacks. “I hope you brought my favorites.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, her heart dancing at how effortlessly they fell into this easy banter. “How could I come empty-handed to thank my therapist?”

Seuncheol chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Good point. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Together they sorted through the assortment of chips, candies, and cookies, playfully debating over which treats deserved a spot on their makeshift movie night platter. As they settled onto the couch, their bodies nearly touching, she found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t in a long time. The earlier unease faded, replaced by a sense of belonging as she sank deeper next to him resting her head on his shoulder swinging around a piece of licorice. 

“Alright, so what are we watching?” he asked, remote in hand. 

She bit her lip thoughtfully, her heart racing at the idea of sharing this moment with him. “How about something fun? A rom-com?” 

“Only if you promise to laugh at all the cheesy parts,” he teased, nudging her playfully.

“How about a bet that whoever cries has to jump in your pool… naked,” she shot back with a smile, feeling a thrill in their playful exchange. The movie began, their laughter filling the space as they munched on snacks, but she felt the real chemistry sparking between them, the edges of her heart warming with every shared glance and gentle touch.

As the story unfolded on the screen, she caught herself stealing glances at him, his focus entirely on the film yet his presence enveloped her like a warm blanket. Somewhere between the jokes and the popcorn fights, the realization struck—this was the moment she had been waiting for, the feeling she had longed to explore. 

“Seuncheol,” she said softly, causing him to look over, pausing the movie. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you crying?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Wow. I win!” 

Seungcheol punched the air, getting up faster than he ever has, stripping off his hoodie and running out the patio door, y/n chasing behind him, knocking over the entire bowl of popcorn on her way out. 

As she turned the corner to go towards his pool he snatched her up, jumping in with her in his arms. 

The splash echoed through the night as the cool water enveloped them both. Seungcheol erupted in laughter, the sound bright and full of joy, while Y/N squealed in surprise, her heart racing from the sudden plunge. 

As they surfaced, water cascading off their faces, Y/N couldn't help but scold him playfully, “What the Fuck. You could have warned me!” Her hair clung to her face, and she was momentarily blinded, but the thrill of the moment overshadowed any annoyance.

Seungcheol flashed her a cheeky grin, droplets sparkling on his skin. “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, his eyes mischievous, reflecting the moonlight. 

Y/N glared, though her heart was still light. “You’re such an asshole!” she laughed, splashing water back at him, her instincts taking over as they devolved into a playful water fight. He countered with playful throws of water, their laughter mingling in the cool night air—full of energy, warmth, and the promise of summer.

He was talking her through the water, pinning her against his bare chest, they both paused, breathless and giggling their legs brushing against each other as she caught her breath. “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” she said softly, her voice playful yet carrying an underlying affection.

Seungcheol tilted his head, his smile softening. “Maybe. But this is way more fun than sitting inside watching movies.” He reached for her hair, swiping it out of her face, and for a moment, the world faded around them, he took a deep breath and kissed her, rummaging his hands under her sweatshirt which she reciprocated back, tugging at his waist band, dipping her cold fingers underneath to graze him slightly in an area they’ve never explored. 

“I’ve been thinking about us,” she confessed, the words tumbling out between their passionate kisses she couldn’t second-guess them. “I know this is sudden.. But, I.. uh.” she left a small whispering moan out of her lips, 

Kissing her deeply again smiling into it he just whispered, “But?” and then moved his lips to her neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist. 

She took a deep breath, her heart racing. “But I want to give us a chance. I want to see where this could go. I’ve never trusted anyone more than you.” 

A  huge smile broke over his face, as he pulled away for just a moment, as if her words were a key that unlocked something deep within him. “Really? You mean it?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, her nerves calming under the intensity of his stare. “I do. I know it’s sudden, but I’ve been in love with you my whole life.” 

His eyes widened with surprise “You… you’ve loved me?” The words slipped from his lips, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid to break the spell of the moment. 

“Yes,” she replied, her voice steady yet soft, the weight of her confession hanging between them like a fragile thread. “I never thought we’d get to this point, but here we are.” 

He leaned in closer again, his forehead resting against hers, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. “I never wanted to rush you,” he admitted. “I just didn’t know how to tell you how I felt. It’s like… you’ve always been the only person I’ve ever wanted.” 

Her heart swelled at his words, a sense of relief enveloping her like a warm blanket. “So what now?” she asked, her tone playful but laced with sincerity. 

“Now? We figure it out together.” His voice was low and confident, reassurance flooding her senses. He kissed her forehead gently before pulling back slightly, his hands still locking around her waist. “I want to take our time, get to know each other in this way. There’s no rush.” 

“Okay,” she murmured, the smile returning to her lips. She hadn’t realized how much she needed his patient approach, how refreshing it felt to not be hurried into something that had the potential to change everything. 

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Just know that I’m all in.” 

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, caught in the sincerity of his gaze. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words.” 

“And now that you have, what do you want to do first?” he asked, a twinkle of mischief sparking in his eyes. 

She grinned, feeling a rush of excitement flood through her. “How about we start with dinner? A proper date, just the two of us, to celebrate this… us. Build up even more sexual tension between us just to make it fun” 

“Dinner it is,” he said, already beaming. “And knowing you a bet to who would break first.” 

“My bets on you, Cheol. You’re a man.” 

“Sure, Bunny. But you did already have your hands down my pants, I’m thinking you’re already a failure. But, I’ll let it slide this time.” 

“Well I’ll try to control myself,” she replied, feeling a thrill of possibility unfolding before them. With newfound hope in her heart, she knew this was only the beginning.

[lovelettersfromluna]

Not Strong Enough

Summary: Rule number 1 of being best friends with a vampire. Never let them drink your blood.

an: I HEAR YOU ALL YELLING AT ME IM SORRY!! This took entirely too long to get to you guys, but it’s here now! Better late than never right?? Is this heavily inspired by twilight? Yes. Did I use a BoyGenius song as the title? It’s lesbian smut, obviously. Is Ellie going to be a brooding depressed vampire? Oh hell yeah. I hope you all like this! I’m a slut for anything supernatural so this was obvi very fun for me to write. As always, love you all so so much! Thanks for reading 🤍

Warnings: SMUT!!, MDNI!!, scissoring (if ur mad I’m doing another scissoring fic….idk what to tell you it’s hot), messy kissing, Ellie bites reader (outside of blood sucking), mentions of marking, mentions of bruises, mentions of blood, Ellie is kind of insufferable for a small bit but I promise it gets better, please lmk if I missed anything!

Read part 1 here!!

Ellie knew it was a bad idea from the very beginning.

She knew that she was too weak for you, even outside of sucking your blood. You were too fucking good for her, too much of a dream for Ellie to go and fuck up like she did.

Truth be told, Ellie expected all of it. She expected to get utterly addicted to you, she expected the blurred lines of your relationship to become even more blurred when she began sucking you dry of your life source, she even expected herself to lose control when she was in the act, humping and grinding your soft body like a wild fucking animal as if she had no control over herself.

She expected all of it, every single aspect that came with the territory, she knew was coming.

But the hardest part of it all? Was leaving you completely.

Because she knew the moment she felt herself lose control while she was on top of you that night in your apartment, she knew she needed to leave you. She needed to abandon you and your friendship for the greater good, for your sake.

Ellie knew that she wasn’t good for you, and you weren’t good for her. But that didn’t make the pain of not seeing you any less.

She thought she’d be able to do it at first, but the texts from you only reminded her of how much she loved your company, how obsessed she was with simply being around you.

She wound frown every time her phone went off, a low groan leaving her lips when she lifted it up to look at her screen, only to see it was from you.

Ellieeeeee

Where are you?

Haven’t seen u in the longest :((

Ellie can practically hear your pout in the way you text her. She knows you too well, and she knows that you aren’t handling her sudden disappearance well.

At this point, it’s been about two months since Ellie has seen you last? Maybe three? She stopped keeping count because it was driving her insane. It wasn’t even the blood supply that she missed, Ellie would go hungry ten times over, dying from starvation if it meant she could be around you without feeling she was robbing you of your life, ruining things that you were meant to experience because she was too fucking selfish.

Ellie misses you, and it pains her that she hasn’t been able to have you in so long.

Well…not entirely at least. She knew she’d lose her mind entirely if she couldn’t at least be around you for a few moments, so her usual nighttime visits become a bit more frequent when she decides she can’t be around you anymore. She’s a lot more careful when she does it though, knowing how sensitive you were to her presence. It was almost unbelievable how easily you’d woken up to her in your room in the past. She doesn’t know how she’d explain things if you woke up now, not having seen her in so long. So she’s extra aware of how much noise she makes.

Seeing you sleep is almost enough to keep Ellie’s demons at bay, the ones that screamed for you, yearned for you to be by her side, to have your warm skin pressed against her much colder one.

As per usual, she’s scaling up the brick wall of your apartment building, making her way up to your bedroom like thief in the night. You continue to leave your window open every night, and it breaks Ellie’s heart because she knows you’re doing it for her, most likely hoping she slips into your window as she usually does.

It means Ellie needs to be even more careful than she anticipated.

She doesn’t even dare to sit on your bed, standing in the corner of your room as she watches your chest rise and fall. She doesn’t even breathe, scared that the sound of it will wake you.

And she desperately wants to reach out and let her fingers run along your soft skin, desperate for the feeling that you always brought her when you’re near. It makes her fists balk at her sides as she practically itches to feel you, fighting back any and every thought that she had to touch you, if even for a moment.

But she doesn’t. Instead, he stays with you just before the sun rises. She knows it’s risky, and she knows she shouldn’t do it in the event that you wake up and see her. Even if she’s fast enough to dart out of your room before you can even call her name or turn the lights on, you’re too smart for that. You’d know what was happening before she can even begin to gaslight you into thinking it was simply a dream.

She can’t help herself, not when it comes to you. Seeing you sleep satisfies the burning feeling in her chest, the one that yearns so desperately for you, it’s enough to make her knees weak. It’s almost like you’re capable of evoking the same feelings she had when she was a human, when she was weak and stupid and felt nervous around women. Until you showed up, Ellie hadn’t experienced those feelings in a long time, she’d almost forgotten about them.

You always remind her though.

Like when she’s about to leave you, knowing she’s cutting it too close to the time you’re going to wake up and start your day. Her footsteps are practically silence, even against the old, creaky floorboards of your apartment.

She’s almost out of your window, one leg outside as she plants her foot against the fire escape when she hears it. You began mumbling in your sleep, tossing a bit, clearly bothered by whatever dream you were having. While this should’ve been the clearest sign for Ellie to leave as quickly as possible before your eyes opened a bit to see her, she doesn’t. Instead, she stays sat on your window sill, simply watching as you turn to face her, eyes still closed as you pout in your sleep.

If Ellie had a heart that was still beating, she’s sure it would’ve stopped. Because suddenly your mumbling is just clear enough for her to hear.

“Ellie….” You sigh out softly, barely loud enough for the undead girl to hear, but she does. Regardless of the city waking up below her, or the sound of your ceiling fan creaking about, she hears it. It makes her frown deeply, swallowing back the intense whimper that threatens to escape and echo throughout your room.

She isn’t sure if she’s ever left your room so quickly, the girls eyes going wide as she made the familiar path down the side of your building to your side walk.

Even when she got home that night, the vampire practically breaking the front door down of her apartment to get in, she couldn’t get the sound of your voice uttering her name so sweetly, calling out for her even in the depths of sleep that you were in, tugged so deeply by your dreams, you were still calling out for her.

Ellie knew that night, that she had to stay away from her. For both your sake, and her own.

And she’s right, because you were suffering just as much as Ellie was.

Ellie’s presence was always scarce, and while it bothered you a bit before you learned what she was, it made sense. She was a creature of the night, something that seemingly only existed in storybooks, coming to life and living the strange lifestyle that she did.

But you knew immediately that this was different.

The morning after you saw Ellie last left a bitter taste in your mouth. As you woke up that morning, your neck sore with the bruises of Ellie’s lips on your skin, body far too drained and tired even after a night of a sleep that was just a bit too deep. It was similar to almost all the times Ellie had drank from you the night prior.

So, why did you feel so bad that morning?

You knew that you didn’t owe Ellie anything, that you were the one to suggest this in the first place, so there truly wasn’t any room for you to be upset for reasons unknown. What were you even supposed to say to her? That you had a weird feeling? One that you desperately wanted her to relieve by telling you it was all okay?

As much as you wanted to, you knew things between you and Ellie weren’t like that.

You were her friend. You were just her friend, and as much as you wanted more, you knew deep down that if Ellie truly wanted you that way, she would’ve made you she’s a long time ago.

And maybe that’s what bothers you the most when this little dry spell occurs, because the sudden lack of her presence leaves you entirely too much time to dwell on things, wondering what it was that you did wrong, what you could have possibly said to create this sudden rift between the two of you.

Ellie had always been flirtatious, flashing that pretty smile in your direction that made you weak in the knees, calling you sweet names that made your heart beat faster. She was practically dangling it all right in front of your face, the frequent touches, the late night visits at the foot of your bed, all this time when you have her the benefit of the doubt, chalking it all up to her simply wanting to see you and nothing more than that, suddenly made no sense to you.

With time came confusion, and with confusion came anger, desperate to understand why she left you, what you had done to possibly make her so scarce so suddenly. And once the third month had hit without seeing Ellie, you were furious, feeling as though you had one choice and one choice only.

To find Ellie, and get the answers from her yourself.

You don’t go to Ellie’s apartment, not usually at least.

Ellie always told you she liked hanging out at your place, going on and on about how warm and cozy it was being there. She’d never admit it to you because she didn’t want you to think she was a freak, but being in a place that smelled so heavily like you made her brain go absolutely insane.

You’ve been there maybe a handful of times, sometimes heading to her place after a night out, or even stopping by whenever you were in the neighborhood. Bottom line was, your apartment was the designated hang out spot for you and Ellie.

Regardless though, you remember how to get there like it’s written on the back of your hand. You thought about Ellie’s apartment a lot, loving how much the space reflected her. You always wished you had the chance to stay there more often.

You can’t think about that though, not now. Not when you’re storming down the expensive halls of her complex down to her door, and landing a heavy fist on the door. All you can truly care about now, is seeing Ellie and demanding an explanation for her sudden disappearance.

And it’s all so unlike you, so out of your character. If it was anyone else, you’d let it go, giving yourself a few days to sulk before forgetting about it all together and simply moving on. Maybe it’s because it’s Ellie, and maybe it’s because you feel a tad bit used after being her personal buffet for the last few times you’d been around her, just for her to up and leave.

It’s most definitely that. You just don’t want to admit it in fears of sounding selfish.

You land another firm knock on her door when she doesn’t answer in time, feeling yourself grow angrier as the moments pass.

Soon, she’s finally opening the door. The image of her nearly takes your breath away.

Because Ellie always looks beautiful, perhaps it’s the fact that you haven’t seen her in some time, but she looks fucking ethereal standing before you. So tall, so confident, her eyes so fucking dark, piercing through your very soul as she stares down at you. Her lips look like rubies compared to her cold, pale skin, so plump and kissable.

All you can think about is the way they felt pressed against your throat, and it makes you lift your hand to press against the two small circular scars on your neck.

Ellie frowns deeply as she eyes you, eyebrows furrowed and expression virtually unreadable.

“What are you doing here” she mumbles out, shifting on her feet awkwardly. Her question alone sets the fire off in your chest again, making you seethe as you take a deep inhale before responding.

“Are you kidding me Ellie?” You practically spit out, staring up at the girl in disbelief.

She lets out a soft sigh, her tattooed hand coming up to rub her face roughly before it moves up to rub through her hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she manages before she tries shutting her door in your face. “You can’t be here” she mumbles out softly, the girl fully expecting to be able to shut the door.

You however, have other plans.

You’re quick to press your hand against the door, stopping her from closing it before you practically force yourself between it. Ellie’s eyes widen a bit at this, not used to seeing you so forward.

Soon, you’re pushing yourself into her apartment, your palm pressing against your forehead as you began pacing back and forth Ellie’s lavish apartment.

“I don’t…I don’t understand you Ellie. Is it something I said? Did I do something? If so please enlighten me I beg you” you blurt out, all of the words fumbling out of your mouth in one breath.

Ellie frowns deeply as she watches you pace back and forth her apartment, her eyebrows furrowed. She can truly see the damaged shes caused when she sees you like this, because it was much easier to watch you when you slept, so peaceful and unaware of the troubles that came with her absence. She knew you were going to blame yourself, and as much as she knew she couldn’t allow you to do that to yourself, she knew staying away was even more important.

Seeing you like this was possibly the hardest thing Ellie had to ever endure.

You don’t stop there, taking advantage of the lack of a response from Ellie to continue ranting.

“Is it because of the blood thing? If so I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry for simply caring enough to make sure you didn’t die from starvation or whatever it is that happens to you when you don’t eat. I’m sorry for making sure that you were okay, if that was so wrong please tell me…” your words trail off as you let out an exasperated sigh, your feelings and emotions becoming far too much as you practically sob out to her.

But then you’re pausing, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggle to catch your breath. Ellie isn’t entirely sure why you’ve suddenly stopped, your back towards her as you stand there, doing god knows what.

When you finally turn around, your eyes are red and your cheeks are wet with tears.

“Were you just….using me? As your personal fucking blood bag?” Your words are shaky as you hold back another sob, your fists balled down at your sides.

Ellie freezes when you say this, because this is exactly what she was fucking afraid of.

It was a common theme throughout…her people. Vampires were notoriously alluring, seducing countless innocent and clueless victims into being their personal meal. The humans were almost always oblivious to what was being done to them, vampires often times using this to their advantage to keep them under their spell for as long as possible. It would most commonly been done in a way that made the humans believe the vampires loved them, dangling them by a thread as they promised them a life of eternity together, to live in immortality, side by side until the end of times. It almost never ended that way though, the vampires would suck and suck and suck until one day they went a bit too far, and their obedient human keeled over and died.

Ellie never wanted things to be that way with you.

She never even wanted you to think it was that way. She wanted you to understand that this was entirely up to you, and it could stop whenever you wanted it to. It’s why she constantly voiced to you that this was still a factor right before she fed off of you. Ellie would rather die than use you for a source of food, because truthfully you were far too good for that, too fucking pure to be used as something as low as a food source.

So when the words leave your lips, Ellie sees red.

Shes in front of you in less than a second, towering over you and staring down into your tear soaked eyes. Her nostrils are flared as she tries to hold back from tearing down her entire apartment complex around the both of you.

“You can’t possibly be stupid enough to think I’d ever use you for something so low..” her voice is low, and there’s a gravel in it that makes your core tighten and your chest bloom with something you can’t quite place, a feeling that can only be shelved in your mind right next to where Ellie takes place.

You don’t hack one, hot tears continuing to spill from your eyes as you stare at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“It makes sense….get your fix and then leave me like I’m nothing…this was probably your plan all along” you grit out.

Ellie licks her lips, knowing that you’re hurting just as much as she is, and your words are simply coming from a place of confusion, desperate to understand why she did what she did to you, why she left without a trace.

She leans in, her face a mere inches from yours. You can smell her minty breath wafting onto your face, and it’s bizarre because even that has a slight chill to it. It makes your cheeks cold, and it makes you want to reach out and warm her up.

“I would rather die a million deaths before using you for that…you and I both know this” she seethes out.

And it makes you whimper, because Ellie’s always been so fucking intense, so poetic. It makes your insides flip upside down, and your eyebrows knit together as you struggle to hold back a whimper.

Your features soften as you continue to cry in front of her. “Then why did you leave me…” you whisper out to the girl.

It breaks her heart how desperate you are for this. Not even for her, but simply for answers. All you want is to understand why she left, what you did to make her abruptly disappear without a single word.

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, her pink tongue darting out to lick her plush lips before she finally speaks.

“I’ve never…been so weak for someone…in my entire life” she breaths out.

It surely isn’t what you’re expecting her to say. You think she’s going to say she’s gotten enough of you, or she just couldn’t handle having someone like you around. Hell, you were even beginning to think she was trying to cover up all her roots here and start somewhere else.

“I always have been…from the moment I fucking laid eyes on you, I knew you weren’t good for me…you’re too good for me” she continues, her eyes fluttering open as she finally stares down into yours. You can finally look into yours as you blink away the tears that are pooling in your eyes and blurring your vision, and it allows you to see the pain in her eyes, just how much she’d been struggling with all of this.

“It isn’t even your blood…it made it worse, yes…but just being around you is like…it’s like a fucking drug to me. You give me this feeling that I can’t…I can’t even begin to describe how fucking euphoric you make me feel” each of her words sounds like a plea, a plea for you to let her go, to unhand her from the death grip you have on her.

“And suddenly I’m always in your apartment, and you’re offering yourself to me and it’s like a dream come true and I feel like a fucking monster when I’m on top of you, sucking you dry of your fucking blood” it’s her turn to start pacing, running her hands through her hair as she settles one of her hands on her hip, she moves slower than you were, simply voicing the struggles she’s seemed to have with you from the moment you met.

She finally turns towards you, and she’s slowing make her way to where you’ve been standing this entire time. When she’s right back where she was, stood right in front of you, she takes your hand into hers ever so gently. It’s enough to make you flinch, how cold she is in contrast to your hot skin. She sighs, bringing your hand up to cradle her cheek, and her eyes flutter shut, nearly rolling back as she presses a soft kiss to your palm.

“I’m not strong enough for you…I don’t think I ever will be” she finally admits, and it’s like she’s not only admitting it to you, but to herself as well.

You hold back a whine as she kisses your palm, her lips so soft, so gentle with you.

“Then…then don’t be…why can’t you just let things happen” you sigh out as you stare up at her, in awe as the girl leaned into your touch as if it were her life line.

You aren’t even entirely sure what you’re asking her for, what this so called ‘thing’ is that she won’t let happen. Is it the feeding you’re alluding to? An act of true platonic kindness? Or are you asking for more, are you begging for something that Ellie has deprived you both of for the sake of the greater good?

Both you and Ellie have these same questions running through your minds.

She chuckles dryly against your skin, shaking her head as her hand gives your wrists a gentle squeeze.

“You aren’t even sure what it is you’re asking for…not from someone like me” she admits, eyes opening as she finally looks down at you again.

“I can’t…give you the things you deserve. I’m not capable of being the perfect person for you, not when I am what I am” her words are like venom on her tongue, the girl utterly disgusted with the monster that she became against her own will, the hell that she was forced to live over and over again with no foreseeable end.

“The only thing I can do, is take from you…I take and take and take….” Her words trail off, a soft frown on her lips before she finally looks at you once again.

“Until I’ve taken everything that you have…and there is no more of you to offer” she whispers out, as if the mere thought of a world without you pains her so much to say, she barely wants to say it.

You lick your lips, your eyes searching hers before you quickly shake your head.

“Do you want me? The same way that I want you?” You question carefully, fearful of what it is that she might say, worried that you’d been reading things entirely wrong, even after Ellie basically confessed how utterly obsessed she is with you.

She smirks softly, humming lowly as she gently brings your hand down to her lips, pressing another gentle kiss to it.

“It’s like I’ve waited my entire life for you, baby….saying that I want you would be an understatement” she chuckles out softly.

And you aren’t entirely sure how it even gets to this point, because you marched over to Ellie’s apartment with a purpose, that purpose being to yell at her and get the answers you deserved. But suddenly you’re standing in front of her, and your heart is exploding with so many different emotions and feelings, all of them for Ellie, and she’s just confessed to you that she wants you like you want her.

And you have no choice, but to kiss her.

It catches Ellie off guard, a soft whine leaving her lips as accepts your lips with gratitude, her arms moving down to drape along your waist as she pulls you closer.

It’s everything she’s ever dreamt it would be. Your lips soft and sweet against her own, your skin so warm and inviting, making her drink you up, fueling her with the warmth she’s lacked since the day she died. But despite how good it feels, she knows this is wrong, and it goes against everything she said she’d do for your sake.

Ellie breaks way first, watching as you struggle to catch your breath from the intense kiss. She’s quick to stop you from leaning in again, her hand cupping your face as she stares into your eyes.

“Angel…we can’t…I told you, I’m no good for you” she sighs out, the words paining her to even say.

You give her a soft pout, your arms wrapping around her shoulders loosely as you press your warm body against hers.

“I trust you Ellie….I know that you’d never hurt me” you sigh out softly as you stare into her eyes, your hand coming up to tuck a strand of her soft hair behind her ear.

“We don’t have to do the blood thing…but I just…can’t we just give us a try?” Your eyes are wide as you speak, eager to feel Ellie’s lips against yours again, even if for a moment. You don’t even take into consideration that she could say no, that she could turn you around and throw you out of her apartment without another word, doubling down on what she said she’d do with you.

But as Ellie said before, she’s just too fucking weak for you.

And hearing you ask for it, ask for her, it has her stomach in knots, and she feels like no matter what it is you ask her, she couldn’t possibly say no to you.

“What are you doing to me…” she sighs softly before she leans in to kiss you again, reciprocating the passion and heat that you gave her mere moments ago. You whine against her, your hands sliding back to tug at her hair, keeping her close as your lips moves against hers, your warm tongue sliding against hers.

“Missed you so much…” you sigh against her, and it makes Ellie groan softly as she nods, hands sliding down to grip your waist as she walks you back towards her bedroom, lips never leaving yours.

“Missed you more than anything, angel” she mumbles against your lips as she presses her palm against her bedroom door behind you, pushing it open and leading you further inside.

Ellie’s bedroom smells like her. It’s dark, and cold but oh so comforting. You practically sigh against her lips when you feel her laying your body down against her black silk sheets, the expensive material like butter on your skin. It makes your senses go in overdrive, Ellie’s hands caressing your skin, roaming around your body as her tongue rubs against yours in a dirty, passionate kiss.

“Don’t know how long I’ve waited to have you like this…” she sighs softly, her lips breaking away from yours to kiss along your jaw, down to your throat. You don’t miss the way Ellie kisses the now faded marks of her teeth on your neck, licking the skin softly before she sucks into it, sure to leave dark marks in the morning.

“Missed marking you up baby….” She hums against you, drinking in the sweet moans that leave your mouth, the sound alone like music to her ears.

Your mind is fuzzy, almost blank besides the thoughts of Ellie that stood in the forefront of your brain. It was like she was filling you up entirely, making you almost overwhelmed with her. Her scent, her cold skin, her soft hands, all of it was almost too much, a combination of sensory overload that kissed your skin so deliciously.

Soon she’s kissing down your body, practically worshiping her as her lips work on your soft skin. Her hands are pushing up your t-shirt, kissing your stomach and your ribcage until she’s tugging you up a bit to skillfully slip your shirt over your head. You’re bare before her, her lips matching onto your pebbled nipples as her tattooed hands work on your soft shorts, tugging them down your legs.

You don’t miss the way her tongue swirls around your nipple before letting go with a pop, lips moving up to nip at your collar bone with her flat teeth. Hard enough to leave a mark, but gentle enough to not break skin.

You giggle softly, bending your legs back to help as she tugs your shorts and panties off. She’s slotting herself between your legs, humming softly as she gives you a smirk.

“Something funny baby?” She questions before leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of your lips. You nod, a dreamy smile on your lips as you bring your hand down to tug at the hem of Ellie’s t-shirt.

“Seems like old habits never die, that’s all….need this off” you huff out softly, fingers fumbling between the hem of her t shirt and the waistband of her sweats.

Ellie chuckles at how eager you are before she nods, pulling back to tug her shirt off before she rolls over a bit to pull off her sweats and underwear as well before she makes her way back between your legs, towering over you as she crawls into you like a predator would its prey.

And it leaves your pussy soaking wet, because it’s better than you could’ve ever imagined. Ellie’s tits are pebbled similarly to yours, tattoos littering her pretty skin, muscles so beautiful they could make your mouth fucking water.

You’d always seen Ellie for the beauty she possessed…but this? This was so much more different.

It made your head fucking spin.

You whined softly as you practically tug her into her by her shoulders, moaning softly at the feeling of her boobs squishing against yours as your mouth attacks her in a needy kiss.

“Want you…” you sigh softly against her as your hand slides down between the both of you, cupping her pussy. You feel Ellie suck in a sharp breath at the feeling of your warm fingers against her sopping wet core, and she gives you an eager nod before rolling over, her strong hands gripping your thighs and taking you with her as she forces you to straddle her.

Being on top of Ellie is just as good as being under her, almost better in all honesty. The lighting in her bedroom is dim, but you can just make out her features with the moonlight that spills in through her big windows, and the moody lights she has set up along her walls. You don’t even realize it because you’re too busy gawking at her, but she lifts her leg up a bit and easily slots you down so that your pussy is right against hers, the feeling making you moan softly.

“You’re so pretty Ellie…” you practically sigh out. It makes Ellie moan softly, and she swears the sound of you calling her pretty is enough to bring her back to life, reversing the effects of her undead state.

“Fuck…can’t say those things to me baby…you’re gonna…Jesus..ruin me” she struggles to get out as she grips your hips, forcing you to roll your hips so that your clit and her clit bumps against each other.

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel it. It’s so fucking wet, and soft, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Sure you’d done it with other girls before, but this just feels…it almost feels like….

“Like you were fucking made for me princess” Ellie grits out, her teeth caging her words in as she fucks you down onto her pussy, practically using you for both hers and your pleasure.

You’re too far gone to pick up on it, too indulged in the feeling of Ellie’s strong hands gripping your thighs so deliciously, sure to leave marks in their shape when you both wake up in the morning.

Your back is arching almost painfully, your hand gripping her thigh as you find the rhythm Ellie has set for you, finding the perfect spot and keeping it there as you drive both you and her to your orgasms.

“I’m…Ellie you feel so good…you’re gonna make me cum” you squeak out, eyebrows furrowed as you finally look down at the girl beneath you, only to find that she’s just as much of a mess as you are. Her hair is messy and her lips look so pouty and kissable. It’s hard to make out, but her fanged teeth are pressing into her lips, and you’re sure it’s the sexiest thing you’ve seen in your entire life.

She gives you an encouraging nod, one of her hands coming to your ass and kneading it harshly before giving it a firm spank, the sinful noise echoing off the walls of her pristine bedroom.

“I know baby…I know…come on, want you to cum with me…that’s it…that’s my good girl” her praises make your chest burn, and it leaves knots in your stomach. It only drives you further, your hips moving faster as they roll against Ellie’s, desperately chasing both hers and your orgasm.

“Ellie…Ellie I’m…I’m gonna-“ you cry out, back arching as you grip her thighs quickly, feeling your own shake as your orgasm begins washing over you.

Ellie catches it right before it happens, the girl quickly sitting up and wrapping her arms around your body, pressing your chest against hers as she pulls you down to kiss her passionately, her own orgasm washing over her like a fucking train.

Your bodies are so in tune, so in sync that your moans almost mix to create a symphony that can only be described as love, total and unconditional love as her arms keep you close, as if stopping you from running away from her, from the feeling she gives you. Her lips are working against yours as you breath hard, struggling to catch your breath in the sloppy kiss.

You’re a whining mess, your poor pussy far too sensitive to deal with the amount of pleasure that Ellie brought to you, all of it washing over you like an intense sea of euphoria, nearly drowning you as you held onto the girl with weak hands.

She knows you’re weak, because she’s pulling you down to rest your warm body against her cool sheets, all while keeping her cool body pressed against yours to bring you back down to earth with her.

“That’s it baby…I know….did so good for me…” she sighs softly as she leaves gentle kisses against your cheeks and eyes, watching as the aftermath of your orgasm slowly pulls you to the depths of sleep, all of it too much on your body.

“My beautiful girl…my girl…my girl…” she hums out, almost like a song as she watches you cling to her in your sleep, soft hums and huffs leaving your lips, all of which makes Ellie smile adoringly at you as she holds you while you sleep.

And even while you’re settling into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever experienced, you don’t miss the soft kisses against your lips and cheeks, all paired with the constant, non stop praises from Ellie.

You especially don’t miss the way she leans in settles against the pillow next to you, mumbling the softest, sweetest words to you as her hands caressing your naked body.

“I love you, pretty girl..”

[moonlightwritingf1]

The taste of desire | LN4

🥧 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando share a flirtatious, passionate moment while cooking, ending with a kiss and a mutual desire to explore their chemistry.

🥧 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🥧 word count ━━━━━━━ 4k

🥧 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The sizzle of oil in the pan filled the kitchen, a gentle symphony that masked the undeniable thrum of tension between them. Y/N stood at the counter, her hands moving with precision as she chopped vegetables, the knife gliding effortlessly through carrots and celery. Her focus was sharp, but every now and then, she’d catch Lando out of the corner of her eye—his tall frame leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, his lips twitching into a smirk whenever their gazes met.

He’s watching me. The thought sent a flutter through her chest, quick and insistent, like a hummingbird beating its wings. She shook it off, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand. But no matter how hard she tried, the air between them felt charged, crackling with something she couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore either.

“Need some help?” Lando asked, pushing off the fridge and sauntering over. His voice was smooth, casual, but there was an edge to it that made her stomach dip.

“I think I’ve got it,” she replied, not looking up. Her tone was light, but her fingers tightened around the knife handle as he came closer. The warmth of his presence seemed to wrap around her, magnetic and impossible to resist.

“You sure?” He was right behind her now, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Because I’m pretty handy in the kitchen.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow. “Handy, huh?''

“Totally,” he said, flashing her that grin of his—the one that made her heart skip a beat. “I can chop faster than you can.”

“Oh, really?” She turned fully to face him, tilting her head. “Care to prove it?”

For a moment, he just stared at her, those blue/ green eyes of his glinting with challenge. Then, without warning, he reached past her for the cutting board. His hand brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her veins. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“Watch and learn,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N’s pulse quickened as she watched his hands move with practiced ease, the knife slicing through the vegetables with precision. There was something undeniably captivating about the way he moved, the way he exuded confidence even in something as mundane as chopping carrots. And yet, it wasn’t just his skill that had her captivated. It was the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, the way his gaze lingered on her lips, the way his touch seemed to linger on her skin long after he pulled away.

“See?” he said after a moment, straightening up and giving her a triumphant smile. “Told you I was handy.”

“Hmm,” she replied, feigning disinterest as she turned back to the stove. But her cheeks burned, and she could still feel the ghost of his touch on her hand.

The rest of dinner prep passed in a blur of playful banter and stolen glances. Every time they reached for the same utensil or passed each other in the narrow space, their bodies would brush, sending sparks flying between them. Lando was relentless, his touches deliberate, his teasing comments loaded with double meanings. And Y/N? Well, she might have been playing it cool, but inside, she was a mess.

By the time they sat down to eat, the atmosphere between them had shifted completely. The air was thick with unspoken desire, the tension so palpable it felt like it could be cut with a knife. They talked and laughed, but every now and then, their eyes would meet, and the world would fall away—just the two of them, locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes.

When dinner was done, Y/N stood to clear the table, but Lando stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Let me,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

She hesitated, her gaze flickering to his hand before meeting his eyes. “It’s fine, really.”

“I know,” he replied, his grip tightening slightly. “But I want to.”

There was something in his tone, something raw and unfiltered, that made her pause. She swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat as she nodded. “Okay.”

As he moved around the table, collecting dishes, Y/N found herself watching him again. He was so different from anyone she’d ever known—confident, charming, with a devil-may-care attitude that somehow only added to his allure. And yet, there was something vulnerable about him too, something hidden beneath the surface that made her want to peel back the layers and see what lay beneath.

When he finished stacking the plates by the sink, he turned to her, his expression unreadable. “You know,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, “I’ve been trying to keep my distance.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, taking a step toward her. “But it’s getting harder and harder.”

She couldn’t look away from him, her breath hitching as he closed the gap between them. “Why?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Because,” he said, his hands settling on her hips, “you make it impossible.”

Impossible. The word echoed in her mind as she looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. His hands were warm against her skin, his touch sending shivers down her spine. And then, before she could say anything, he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss so soft, so tender, it took her breath away.

“Lando,” she murmured against his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair.

“Shh,” he whispered, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “Just let go.”

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. Every nerve in her body was hyper-aware of him—the warmth of his body against hers, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his fingers felt like they were burning through the thin fabric of her shirt. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. ''We should finish our dessert first.''

He laughed softly, a sound that sent vibrations through her entire body. “Dessert will still be there,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “And so will I.”

Before she could respond, his hands slid higher, his fingertips tracing the underside of her ribs as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. Y/N gasped, her legs going weak beneath her. She reached out blindly, grabbing for the edge of the counter to steady herself, but Lando’s grip on her was firm, holding her in place as his lips trailed fire along her skin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she muttered, half-heartedly trying to push him away. But there was no real force behind the movement, and they both knew it. Her hands lingered on his shoulders, her nails digging into the soft fabric of his shirt as she swayed closer to him.

Lando smirked against her neck, clearly pleased with himself. “Crazy good or crazy bad?” he teased, his voice light but his touch anything but casual. His hands moved again, one sliding up to cup her jaw while the other traced down her spine, sending shivers cascading through her.

“Both,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when he was looking at her like that, like she was everything he wanted and nothing he could ever have enough of.

“Good,” he said simply, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone before he leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. It was quick, almost chaste, but it left her breathless all the same. When he pulled back, his blue/ green eyes were dark with desire, his smile gone now, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat rising between them, the tension so thick it was almost tangible. And yet, despite the way her body screamed at her to give in, she hesitated. There was something electric about this moment, something dangerous, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive headfirst into whatever this was between them.

But Lando didn’t give her time to think. He was relentless, his hands moving with purpose as he guided her backward, until her thighs hit the edge of the countertop. “Lando—” she started to protest, but he didn’t let her finish. Instead, he kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a confidence that left no room for argument.

Y/N moaned against his lips, her hands fisting in his hair as she surrendered to the sensation. She could feel the hardness of the counter digging into her thighs, but it hardly registered amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Lando’s hands were everywhere—on her waist, her hips, her cheeks—his touch searing through her clothes and straight to her core.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered against her mouth, his voice rough with need. “You feel so fucking good.”

His words only fueled her own desire, her body arching toward his as she deepened the kiss. She could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh, and it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. This was reckless, impulsive, but right now, she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way he made her feel, wanted, desired, needed.

Lando broke the kiss then, his breathing heavy as he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And I will.”

But neither of them really believed it. Y/N stared up at him, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, and shook her head. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s eyes darkened further at her response, and without another word, he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter. Y/N gasped as her legs parted instinctively, giving him access to where she needed him most. His hands gripped her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin just above her knees as he leaned in closer.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice nearly breaking. His breath was hot against her ear, his lips brushing against the shell as he spoke. “So beautiful.”

Y/N shivered, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she tried to steady herself. But Lando didn’t let her stay still for long. He kissed her again, his tongue delving deep as his hands roamed her body with possessive intent. One hand slid up her side, cupping her breast through the fabric of her shirt, while the other gripped her thigh.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her head falling back as his touch set her alight. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, her body aching for more. “Lando…”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. “I can feel how much you want me.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she lost herself in the sensation.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.” he whispered, his voice dripping with possessiveness.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice breaking as she met his gaze. “Yes, I want you. I need you.”

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and rough, barely more than a whisper. His gaze dropped to her lips, waiting for her response with a patience that suggested he’d give her all the time she needed—though his body pressed closer, demanding otherwise.

She nodded quickly, her cheeks flushed, her voice soft but firm. “Yes. I want you, Lando. Don’t stop.”

His lips curved into a satisfied smile, and he leaned in, brushing his mouth against hers. The kiss was gentle at first, a teasing exploration that made her grip his shoulders harder. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more—needed more. Her lips parted, inviting him deeper, and he obliged, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers in a dance of desire.

God, he tasted incredible. Everything about him felt electric, from the way his his hand was gripping her thigh to the steady beat of his heart against her chest. She could feel the hard length of him through his jeans, pressing insistently against her thigh, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her at the realization.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her lips, his tone raw with longing. “So open, so ready for me.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, her nerves bubbling to the surface despite the growing heat between them. “Open? I’m not exactly in control here, Lando. You’re the one who put me on this counter.”

His eyes darkened, and he pulled back slightly, his hand leaving her breast to cup her cheek. “And you love it, don’t you? Admit it. You love how much I want you.”

The words sent a thrill through her, making her heart race. She did love it—loved the way he looked at her, as though she were the only thing that mattered. Loved the way his touch turned her insides to liquid fire. “Maybe I do,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s grin was predatory, and he moved faster, his hands working her jeans down her legs with practiced efficiency. Y/N lifted her hips to help, her movements unsteady as she tried to balance while he stripped her bare. When she was free of the material, he knelt before her, his hands sliding up her thighs until they reached the fabric of her panties.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl that made her knees weak.

She obeyed without hesitation, her legs parting as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pulled them aside. The cool air hit her skin, and she gasped, her arousal already slick and evident. Lando’s eyes locked onto the sight, his pupils dilating as he drank in every detail.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe. “You’re perfect.”

Before she could respond, his mouth descended on her, and the world shattered into a thousand pieces. His tongue swirled around her clit in lazy circles, drawing out her pleasure with agonizing precision. Y/N threw her head back, gripping the edge of the counter for support as waves of ecstasy crashed over her.

“Lando,” she cried out, her voice breaking as his tongue stabbed deeper, hitting that sensitive spot inside her that made her toes curl. “Oh my god, don’t stop!”

He didn’t. If anything, he intensified his efforts, flicking his tongue rapidly against her clit while his fingers probed at her entrance, teasing but not entering. It was pure torture, and Y/N loved every second of it. Her hips bucked against his face, desperate for release, but he held her steady, keeping her right on the edge.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice pleading. “Please, I need—”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice muffled against her core but still managing to convey the smug satisfaction of a man in complete control.

“You,” she gasped. “I need you. Inside me. Now.”

Lando pulled back, his eyes glittering with triumph as he stood and stepped closer. Y/N watched as he tugged off his shirt, revealing the smooth, lean muscles of his chest. Her hands itched to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, but she forced herself to wait, knowing he wouldn’t keep her waiting long.

Sure enough, he was removing his jeans in seconds, kicking them aside with a smirk. Y/N’s breath caught as he stepped between her legs, his erection straining against his boxers. He hovered there for a moment, letting the anticipation build before hooking his thumbs into the fabric and pushing them down.

“Look at you,” she breathed, her voice awestruck as she took in the full length of him. “You’re… incredible.”

Lando chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. “Only incredible?” he teased, reaching for the condom he’d placed on the counter earlier.

As he rolled it on, Y/N bit her lip, her nerves surging once more. This was it—finally, after weeks of tension and teasing, they were going to cross that line. And honestly? She couldn’t wait.

Lando must have sensed her eagerness because he positioned himself at her entrance without further delay. His eyes locked onto hers, searching for any trace of hesitation, but all he found was hunger. With a groan, he thrust forward, filling her in one smooth motion.

Y/N cried out, her back arching as the sensation overwhelmed her. It had been so long since she’d felt like this—so full, so wanted. Lando kissed her then, swallowing her gasp of pleasure as he began to move, withdrawing slowly before plunging back in with increasing urgency.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growled against her lips, his thrusts growing rougher as he sought to claim her completely. “You feel so good. So tight around me.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she clung to him. Every stroke of his hips against hers sent shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through her body, and she could feel the telltale tingling in her lower belly signaling her approaching orgasm.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m close. So close.”

He angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside her with ruthless precision. Y/N’s vision blurred as her climax shattered through her, her entire body tensing as she screamed his name. Lando followed soon after, his thrusts stuttering as he spilled himself inside her, his head falling to her shoulder as he panted for breath.

For a moment, they simply stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as their hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, marveling at how perfect everything felt—how right.

The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rattle of a pot handle swaying in the breeze from the open window. The air was thick with the scent of garlic and rosemary, but beneath it all lingered something sweeter—something undeniably intimate.

Y/N lay sprawled across the counter, her legs still wrapped around Lando’s waist, though he had shifted to rest his weight on his elbows beside her. His chest rose and fell heavily, his skin glistening with sweat, while she traced lazy patterns over his back, savoring the warmth of his body against hers. Their breaths mingled, slow and steady now, as if they were both reluctant to break the spell that had just passed between them.

“That…” Lando began, his voice low and rough, “was incredible.”

She laughed softly, a sound that was tinged with disbelief. “You don’t have to say that.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t have to, but I want to. You feel amazing, Y/N. You always do.”

Her cheeks flushed at the intensity of his gaze, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

He grinned, that familiar glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “Only when I’m with you.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Instead, her fingers found their way to his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his stubble. “Lando…”

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “Yeah?”

“What even is this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Between us, I mean.”

His grin faded, replaced by a look of genuine consideration. “What do you want it to be?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. What did she want? She wanted to say everything, to demand he commit to her fully, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she settled for honesty. “I don’t know. But right now… it feels like something.”

Lando nodded slowly, his expression softening. “It does. And I think… I think maybe we should figure it out together.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. “Together?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice confident yet gentle. “I like being with you, Y/N. A lot. And I don’t want to stop. Not unless you tell me to.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to ask him what he meant, to press him for more details, but another part of her—the stronger part—just wanted to let it go. To live in this moment and trust that whatever came next would unfold naturally.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling with emotion.

Lando’s lips curved into a slow smile, and he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Okay.”

They fell silent again, the tension between them shifting from sexual to something deeper, something almost sacred. Y/N felt his hand slide down her side, coming to rest on her thigh, and she shivered at the gentle touch.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured, his tone laced with awe.

She shook her head, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “No, I’m not. I’m just… me.”

“Exactly,” he said firmly. “And that’s all I need. Just you.”

Her chest tightened, and she looked away, afraid that if she met his gaze, she might burst into tears. Stop it, she scolded herself silently. Don’t ruin this.

“Hey,” Lando said gently, tipping her chin up until their eyes met. “Don’t hide from me, okay? Not now. Not ever.”

“I’m not hiding,” she lied, her voice cracking slightly.

He sighed, clearly unconvinced. “You are. And that’s okay. I get it. Trust me, I do. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. So you can take your time. Just… don’t push me away.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she nodded slowly. “I won’t.”

“Good,” he said, his smile returning. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was soft and lingering, a contrast to the intensity of their previous encounter. It was tender, affectionate, and it left her breathless in a completely different way.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N felt lighter, as if a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying had been lifted off her shoulders. She glanced around the kitchen, noting the dishes they had abandoned earlier and the flour dusting the counter where they had worked side by side.

“We never finished our dessert ,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement.

Lando chuckled, following her gaze. “I guess not. But honestly, I’m not sure I could eat anything after that.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, blushing slightly. “But we should probably clean up before someone walks in and thinks we’ve gone completely insane.”

He smirked, reaching for a towel. “Insane? Nah. We’re just having a good time.”

She shot him a playful glare. “Right. Because setting the kitchen on fire would be totally normal.”

“Hey, I didn’t set anything on fire,” he protested, draping the towel over his shoulder. “You’re the one who got distracted.”

“Distracted?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. “Lando, you literally pressed me against the counter and—”

He cut her off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, fair point. My bad.”

As they cleaned up and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, the banter continued, though now softer and less charged with the heightened energy that had fueled their earlier interactions. There was a new layer to their connection, one that made Y/N feel incredibly seen and understood in ways she hadn’t expected.

When the last dish was put away, Lando turned to her, his hands resting on her hips as he pulled her close. “So… what now?”

She tilted her head, considering his question. “Now… we see where this goes. Together.”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “Sounds perfect.”

As his lips descended to meet hers once more, Y/N felt her resolve strengthen. Whatever came next, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t ready to walk away from this. Not yet.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 24

Word Count- 9.2k

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of death and violence, alcohol, kissing, sexual shiz, Klaus being freaky deaky (no children better be reading this)

A/n- Rebekah didn’t hook up with Damon she just hooked up with a rando after the dance!

“I’m bored,” Kol whined desperately to his siblings as they lounged in the grand living room.

Kol threw himself onto the leather ottoman, “Our sister is a strumpet, but at least she’s having fun. I need entertainment.”

Klaus narrows his eyes at his younger brother, “What are you waiting for? Go on have at it.”

“It’s no fun to go alone. Join me, Nik,” Kol leans forward with a mischievous look.

Klaus sends a bored look at him and then goes back to his sketch. Kol lets out a loud groan and stands up.

“Well, if you won’t go with me,” He taps his chin in thought, “I’m sure I can find someone to spend my afternoon with…what about that little mate of yours…Y/n, was it? Oh yes, I’m sure she’s great fun, I wonder if she’d let me-”

Kol is cut off from finishing his sentence as Klaus wraps his hand around his brother’s throat, “Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself right back into that coffin of yours, brother. I’m sure it’s missed your company.” Kol not entirely caring for his brother’s antics, rolls his eyes, “Joking, brother,” Kol plucks Klaus’ fingers off his throat one by one, “And as you should know, you’re mate and I are now,” Kol frowns, “What do they call it now…oh yes, besties.”

Klaus’ mood gets darker the more Kol speaks. 

“That’s not true!”

Both brothers turn at the whining of their sister.

“Y/n is my best friend!”

Kol raises an eyebrow in challenge, “Really? And did she say this herself or is this another one of your delusions.”

Rebekah glares at her brother before grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at him. 

Kol quickly darts away and laughs, “Your aim is almost as bad as your taste in men sister.”

Rebekah lets out a loud whine, resulting in Klaus groaning in annoyance. 

“Enough of you two,” Klaus throws himself back down onto the couch, “I’ll put both of you back into your coffins.”

“Mother would never allow that,” Rebekah says proudly as she sits on the same couch as Klaus. 

“Join me, brother. It’s the least you could do after sticking a dagger in my heart,” Kol tries to reason with Klaus. Besides, are you truly going to spend all afternoon drawing pictures of your pretty little obsession?”

Klaus’ eyes narrow at his brother, but he knows he can’t deny the accusation of his current muse. 

With a final sigh, Klaus stands with a sound of annoyance, “Okay. Why not? I didn’t have nearly enough to drink last night what with you trying to murder Rebekah’s date.”

Klaus strolls by both of his siblings, taking the sketchbook filled with drawings of his soulmate with him.

“Yes, please go, this house has enough men rolling around in it,” Rebekah says annoyed as Kol begins to follow his brother. 

Kol turns around and smirks at his sister, “Just like you, Bekah!”

Rebekah throws her purse at him, “Good riddance, both of you.”

—

“No sir,” I try not to roll my eyes at the middle-aged man sitting at the bar in front of me, “We do not offer refunds for alcohol you’ve already drank.”

The drunk man in front of me glares, “You’re mean.”

“I’m going to be a lot meaner if you don’t pay,” I deadpan back at him and with a roll of his eyes he fishes out a stack of ones from his pocket and throws them onto the bar counter. 

“Great,” I mutter as the man drunkenly stalks away. 

“Rough day?” I continue to count the ones as I answer Ric, “I love working my ass off for minimum wage.”

Ric lets out a chuckle, “Ya I bet… But if anyone can handle a job like this it’s you, Y/n.”

I look up from the money, “Ya? And why is that?”

Ric’s upper lip twitches, “You spent an entire summer living with Damon, without killing him. Because of that, I'm pretty sure you could do anything.”

I ponder Ric’s comment and then nod, “I am a person of great strength, aren’t I?”

Ric chuckles and raises his drink in agreement at my sarcastic comment, “Very much indeed.”

A moment later, a dark-haired woman sits down next to Ric. A little too close for my liking. Since Jenna has gone to Nebraska or wherever the hell she and Jeremy went, I’ve been keeping an eye on Ric to make sure he stays away from other women. She never asked me to do this, but as a fellow girls girl, I must. 

My shoulders deflate as a customer at the other end of the bar ushers me over. As I deal with him I keep sending glances over to Ric and the mystery woman, who appear to be in a serious conversation. 

After I deal with the man, I make my way over to Ric’s area and pretend to dry some glasses. Glasses I had already dried 20 minutes prior. 

“It’s impossible to know anything about whoever stabbed you,” I overhear the woman and I raise my eyebrows up in shock, “Short, tall, left-handed, right-handed, no clue.”

Why the hell does Ric keep getting killed?!?

“Well, what about my head, why can’t I remember anything about the attack?”

“Your CT scans were clear. Maybe you were compelled to forget,” THe woman answers Ric.

“That wouldn’t be possible,” I casually chime in as if I wasn’t already listening to their conversation. Both adults turn to me with confused faces, “Y’know since Ric practically bathes in vervain. He drinks it a lot…Just like his girlfriend, Jenna. His longtime girlfriend.”

The woman furrows her eyebrows and gives me an odd look and I smile at her sweetly before turning around and going back to fucking around with the glasses.

“Wait… you think the person who did this to me was a vampire,” Ric questions quietly to the rando.

“I mean it’s the only option,” She answers and I fight the urge to ask why I vampire would stab Ric when they could just bite him, or like rip his head off. 

“Oh, come on now.”

Oh god no. 

That British accent has me tensing my shoulders and keeping my gaze towards the wall, hoping he hasn’t noticed me. 

“Let’s not go blaming the new family in town just cause you lot have got yourselves a killer at large,” I hear Klaus say to Ric and whats-her-face, “Don’t mind us. My brother and I are just here to let off some steam, right, Kol?”

Great, he brought the ankle biter. 

“Right.”

Ric and the woman are silent for a moment. “Ric, I’m going to play some pool, join me,” The woman’s voice comes out urgent and I don’t have to have eyes in the back of my head to know Ric is staring at me. 

“Oh, don’t fret Alaric,” Klaus’ voice comes mocking, “I’m not going to lay a finger on Elena’s little friend, go have fun with your girl.”

His words hit my heart like a dagger, weird how now I’m just “Elena’s friend” when yesterday you were pretty much confessing your heart and soul to me. Pun intended. 

“You alright, kid?”

Without turning around I throw a thumbs up at Ric. After a moment I hear the screeching of two stools.

Everything is quiet for a moment. 

“If it isn’t my bestie.”

Lord, give me the strength. 

I slowly turn around and face the two brothers. One watching me with an amused smirk and the other…just watches me. 

Klaus’ eyes seem to be marking every inch of my face and body as if he’s committing me to memory. 

“Ankle biter,” I retort as I wipe my hands on my apron and begin to walk to the other side of the bar. 

“Aye, where do you think you’re going,” Kol’s foxlike tone halts me, “I would very much like a drink, and my brother here…well I’m sure a drink isn’t exactly what he wants from you.”

I almost choke on my breath at Kol’s words as I turn to face him. 

“Also, what is this ankle-biter nonsense? Is that some type of term friends use for one another in this century,” Kol asks as he places his chin on his hand, watching me. 

“Ya, sure.”

Kol seems to be delighted with my answer as he shoots a smug smile towards his brother. Klaus doesn’t give him the time of day though as he keeps his eyes on me. 

“What do you want to drink, Kol,” I take a step closer to the bar as I grab a glass for him and Klaus. 

“What do you recommend, Little Doll,” Kol smiles up at me. 

“Arsonic.”

A loud laugh escapes Kol’s lips, but it’s Klaus’ light chuckle that I can’t help but fall into. 

“Oh, she’s funny,” Kol says excitedly and then turns to his brother, “Odd fate mated her to the boring brothers,” this finally catches a glare from Klaus and Kol turns back to me and leans over the bar, “I’m sure I can contact some witch friends of mine and get that bond switched over to me. We’d have so much more fun.”

“Brother, another word out of you and it’ll be your tongue that comes out of your mouth,’’ Klaus bites and I instantly take a step back. 

My movement catches the hybrid's attention and a small frown makes its way onto his face. 

Klaus’ eyes are filled with something that makes my stomach twist. I turn my attention back towards Kol who is watching Klaus and I with his signature smirk. 

“You’re getting bourbon,” I tell him as I turn and grab a bottle of liquor from the shelf behind me. 

“Oh, goodie! Second shelf alcohol,” I bite down on my lip to keep my laugh hidden from Kol’s sarcastic remark. 

I turn back around pour the brown liquid into two glasses and then place them in front of the two men. 

“Thank you, Doll,’’ Kol says cheekily as he downs the liquid in one go. He then places the glass back on the counter and uses his forefinger to tap it. 

“You know you guys are going to have to pay for this right,” I tap the bottle and raise an eyebrow at both of them, “I’m on vervain so you can’t just compel me to make it on the house.”

Kol quickly flings a hand to his heart and a look of hurt comes over his face, “You would really assume such horrible assumptions of us?”

I don’t even blink as I answer, “Yes.”

Kol’s fake-hurt look instantly drops into a smirk, “And you’d be correct. Knew you were a smart one. But, don’t you worry,” He sends a glance to his brother who is still staring at me, “Elijah and this thing have already given our siblings a rule book of things to not do when it comes to you. Compelling you is number three,” Kol holds up three fingers.

I furrow my brows in confusion as I turn to Klaus who has now found interest in his still-full glass, “Rule book? And why is compulsion only number three?!”

“Oh yes, my brothers gave a whole presentation to us last night on things we’re not allowed to do,” Kol nods thoughtfully.

“Kol, I will dagger you,” Klaus’ threat comes out harsh as he glares at his younger brother. 

Kol rolls his eyes and then leans back over the bar again and whispers to me, “We’ll chat later.’

“You will not,” Klaus says before downing his downing his drink. 

“Unlike you, Elijah says we’re allowed to speak to her,” Kol says matter-of-factly to his brother with a smirk. 

In this light, no one would even guess that these two are psychopathic vampires, right now all they’re acting like is two brothers who like to piss each other off. 

“That is because of Rebekah, you weren’t a part of the pardon.”

Kol glares at his brother. 

“Don’t listen to him, Doll,” Kol turns back to me, “I won’t let them separate us.”

I purse my lips, “Yippee.”

Kol’s eyes go towards his drink and I roll my own. Nonetheless, I raise the bourbon bottle and pour him another one. I turn to look at Klaus, who surprise surprise is already looking at me, and I raise the glass in question.

Klaus nods his head, “Thank you, Love.”

I pour another drink for Klaus and then place the bottle onto the counter, then turn away hoping to go anywhere but here. 

“Little Doll, where are you going? Stay and chat with us,” Kol’s grating voice makes me roll my eyes. 

“I’m on the clock Kol. Unlike some people,” I send looks to both of the brothers, “I actually have to work to make money.”

Kol turns to his right side and then his left, “There’s no one else here, Darling.”

I copy his movements and let outa swear when I realize that there is no one else waiting for a drink. 

“Come chat with us,” Kol pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket and places it on the counter, “We’ll make it worth your time.”

“I’m not a prostitute, Kol.”

A low growl from Klaus sends shockwaves down my spine. 

“Don’t listen to the dog, Doll. And I’d never insinuate you were a lady of the night. And besides,” Kol’s smirk deepens, “I’ve never had to pay a woman to spend a night with me. If anything they should’ve been paying me.”

I watch in silent disbelief at Kol’s hurt expression as he finishes his sentence. And here I thought Theo was full of himself. 

“Right…”

“Ignore him, Astin Min, it’s what all my family does” Klaus’ voice pulls my attention.

A quick look of hurt covers Kol’s face and for a moment I wonder if he actually has real emotions.

“Whatever mutt.”

Nevermind. 

“Pour yourself a drink, Doll,” Kol turns to me with a smile, “On me.”

I open my mouth to reject him but Klaus speaks first.

“She doesn’t drink,” His tone comes out casual as he takes a sip of his own drink, but as his eyes meet mine I’m taken back to the night before when I told him things about myself that not even Theo knows.

“Well, that’s lame,” Kol mutters under his breath, “What else is there to do for fun around here other than drink?”

I break eye contact with Klaus and shrug my shoulders, “Pretty much nothing.”

“Then why do you live here,” Kol’s question comes off actually inquisitive, unlike his other comments.

“Ask my mother,” I mutter under my breath.

“Yikes,” Kol yips, “Are we not a fan of mummy dearest.”

I clench my fists as I think back to my mother.

“Drop it, Kol…Luv,” Klaus’ unusually soft voice sends a wave of comfort over me and I unclench my fists. 

“Would you mind,” He gestures to his finished drink.

I grab the bourbon bottle and begin refilling his drink. I notice though that instead of watching my face, like usual, he’s glaring at my hand. 

“Me too, Doll,” Kol chimes in, and after I fill his brother’s glass I fill his as well. 

“Why do you work here,” Klaus questions. 

I send him a glance and begin tapping my fingers to the song playing on the bar’s speakers, “As I said before, I need the money.”

“For what?”

I want to roll my eyes at Klaus’ questioning but when I see the honest look on his face I just shrug, “Stuff.”

Klaus’ eyebrows narrow, “Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know, like bills, and stuff. College savings.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow further as if he can’t grasp the concept of me having to work for this stuff, “Wouldn’t your mother be the one who pays for that stuff?”

I let out an annoyed laugh, “You would think?”

“You could quit,” Klaus’ comment makes me roll my eyes. 

“Have you not been listening? I need the money!”

Klaus leans back in his chair and sends me an annoyed look, “I’ll pay for these things.”

What is up with these Mikaelsons and wanting to financially support me??!?

“You’d pay for me,” I say skeptically, “You pay my car insurance, my car payment, my groceries, my taxes, my gas, my art supplies, my college fund, Theo’s college fund,” I list off all my expenses in annoyance.

“Without question.”

I eye Klaus for any sign of a lie, but the stern look on his face tells me everything I need to know. He’s being serious. 

I release an uncomfortable noise and look away from him, “Well, thanks…but I can do it myself.”

From my peripheral, I see Klaus lean in and rest his elbows on the counter, “Just because you can, Love, doesn’t mean you should have to.”

I feel a burning in my eyes as I consider Klaus’ words. 

“Good lord,” Kol groans, “If I’ll have to deal with this,” He gestures to Klaus and I, “For the next millenia. Might as well put me out of my misery and dagger me now.’’

Klaus sends a dark smirk to his brother, “With pleasure.”

“Oh! I remember her from last night,” Kol points off to the distance and I follow his finger towards Caroline, who has just walked in looking quite hot, “She looks like a tasty little thing.”

Klaus spares a fleeting glance at Caroline before turning back towards me, “Have at it brother,” He mutters without a care.

“Hello, Darling,” Kol calls to Caroline who strides past both men.

Caroline stops and sends a bored look to the men. Her gaze holds on Klaus’ back and a look of annoyance passes over her face.

“Join us for a drink will you,” Kol questions her and raises his glass. 

“Who’s us?”

Caroline’s words have no hold over me, but the way she keeps looking at Klaus’ back as if she wants his attention, makes an annoyance build in my chest. 

My eyes dart to Klaus momentarily and I see him send me an odd look before turning over his shoulder to glance at Caroline. The blonde vampire instantly flicks her hair over her shoulder as the hybrid looks at her and I hear Klaus let out a low chuckle. 

Caroline’s features instantly morph into annoyance again when Klaus turns back around to face me with a knowing smirk. 

“I’d rather die of thirst,” Caroline looks at Kol, “But thanks. Bye, Y/n.”

With one last glance at Klaus’ back, Caroline sends me a smile, before pretty much stomping back outside. 

“Well,” Kol turns back towards me, “Hand me that bottle, love. I’m going to go harass the locals.”

“Are you going to pay for it?”

Kol must notice my change in mood as he smirks and opens up his wallet, “Of course love. Wouldn’t want to make you mad.”

I watch in awe as Kol fishes out a handful of one-hundreds and throws them on the counter in front of him. 

“Kol, it’s a $80 bottle,” I say unbelievably.

Kol just smirks and shrugs, “With the way it tastes it better be…but the rest is your tip, Little Doll,” He reaches over the counter and grabs the bottle before standing up. He then glances at his brother, “Enjoy. Talk soon.”

I watch with my mouth open as Kol saunters over to the pool table where the woman Ric was previously talking to is standing. I turn my attention to the wad of money on the counter and quickly count it.

Eight hundred dollars. That’s a $720 tip. This is more than I’ll make in an entire month…hell two months. 

I shake my head in disbelief as a happy laugh escapes me.  

“Now that I know money makes you do that, I’ll be sure to tip you a lot.”

I look to Klaus, confused.

“What?”

Klaus looks at me with the same heartstopping look from last night, “Your smile,” He gestures to my mouth as if it’s nothing, “I rarely see you smile like that.”

Klaus’ comment has a wave of embarrassment flowing through me, “I’m not superficial or anything,” I deny as I hold the money close to me, “It’s just that…,” I pause unsure if I should continue, “This amount of money might not seem like much to you guys, but… to me, it’s life-changing. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on if times get tough. All I have is the money I save and with all the money I spend on bills and Theo’s sports…I don’t have much left. If any at all.” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Y/n. I may have never had to worry about money, but I understand what it feels like to want something out of reach.”

I tug on my bottom lip as I nod and put my large tip into my apron pocket, “Thanks.”

Klaus smirks, “No need to thank me, love.”

I lock eyes with him and I feel a small smile making its way onto my face. Klaus appears to start to say something but the voice of a customer from the other end of the bar turns my attention.

“Of course,” I hear Klaus mutter. 

I hold up one finger to the customer and then turn back to Klaus.

Klaus nods, “Go, love. I’ll be here waiting.”

—

I let out a deep sigh as I finished dealing with a rush of customers. Normally when dealing with drunk people my anxiety level is only at 100 but with the everlasting stare I felt from Klaus the entire time my anxiety is now at a whopping 100,000.

“Do you need a refill,” I finally make my way over to Klaus who hasn't moved from his chair. 

“I’m alright, Love,” The side of his lip twitches as he looks at me, “I do wonder though why get a job working as a bartender when it’s clear how much you loathe drunk people.”

I bring my hand up to my neck and rub out the tension. Klaus's eyes follow my movement and his normal bright blue seems to darken. 

“I um… Don’t usually work as a bartender. But, someone called in sick so I covered for them.”

Klaus’ eyes make their way back up to my face and he nods in understanding.

“When do you get off?”

I glance down at the watch on my wrist and sigh, “Thankfully, only 30 more minutes.”

Klaus seems to be happy with my response.

“Great. What are you doing after this?”

I narrow my eyes at the hybrid, “Why do you ask?”

Klaus's lips morph into a smirk and he leans back and shrugs his shoulders, “Asking for a friend.’’

I let out a small laugh, “Right, of course. Because as I know you have so many of those.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow at my jab and I laugh again. 

“Tell your friend that I have a date.”

Klaus’ smirk drops. 

“Who?”

Klaus’ instant change in attitude startles me. Long gone is his casual demeanor, now replaced by something darker. 

“What?”

At my question, Klaus leans in and practically glares at me, “Who is your date?”

I try not to let Klaus’ attitude freak me out as I lean into him so our faces are a few inches apart, “The leftover lasagna I have in my freezer at home.”

Klaus’ face instantly morphs into annoyance, “Are you serious right now?”

I shrug, “I never joke about pasta.”

Klaus runs a hand over his face, “Y/n…careful.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Why?”

Klaus takes his hand away from his face and instead brings it up to run a finger along my jawline. I inhale an involuntary breath as he watches me with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“You need to be careful because if I ever do find out you were to go on a date with another man,” My breath comes out shallow as he leans in so close our noses are practically touching, “I’d find him…rip all of his limbs off and then,” His eyes trail down to my lips, “I’d ravage you in his blood. So every time after that, every time a man even glances your way…all you’ll be able to think about is the feeling of me on top of you.”

I let out a squeak. A fucking squeak. 

I can’t seem to find my words, which only seems to please Klaus.

“You…you,” I try to shove away any unwanted thoughts as I look a the man before me, “You’re not allowed to get jealous…we’re not even together. Like I talked with Elijah about, we’re going to be just friends for right now.”

Klaus lets out a loud laugh.

“Friends?!”

I furrow my brows at the tone in his voice.

“Y/n love,” Klaus meets my eye, “My brother may try to fool you and himself with that silly notion, but know this…you and I,” He points from himself to me, “Will never be just friends. Friends don’t think of each other the way you and I think of one another.”

I shake my head in denial, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Klaus tilts his head, “No? So that death glare you were sending your blood friend while she was trying to get my attention was nothing?”

God, I don’t know if I want to punch him or kiss him.

“Just to let you know though, you have no reason to be jealous. No other woman could sway my gaze away from my little muse.”

I feel my face heat at his confession and I open my mouth to try to deny him again but a piercing pain makes me release a loud gasp. 

I feel my knees buckle as I clutch my heart.

“Y/n!” I think I can hear Klaus’ frantic voice but with the searing pain, it’s kind of hard to focus on anything.

I’m soon enveloped in a warm embrace as I feel hands go under my arms and my knees, bringing me into a bridal-style pose. 

“I’ve got you, Love.”

I try to focus on the warmth of Klaus instead of my chest, but it’s kind of hard when it hurts like a motherfucker. 

A rush of cold air hits my face, and I think we must be outside now. 

“I’ve got to set you down for a moment, my love. I’ve got to go kill your friends momentarily.”

I try to open my eyes when I feel myself being placed on cold ground and I think I can see Stefan and Damon fighting with Klaus. 

After a moment I feel a weight being lifted off my chest and I no longer feel the stabbing pain. Thank fuck. 

“I should’ve killed you months ago,” I lift my head to see Klaus standing in front of me protectively and Stefan and Damon a few feet away from him looking disheveled. I lock eyes with Damon, and his eyes narrow as he looks at me for a moment before turning back toward Klaus. 

“Do it. That’s not gonna stop Esther from killing you.”

The fuck?

“What did you say about my mother?”

I watch with bated breath as Klaus stalks toward the eldest Salvatore.

“You didn’t know I was friends with your mummy? Yeah, we have a lot in common. She hates you as much as I do.”

“Demon, you fucking idiot,” I cough out, as I try to sit up against the stone wall. 

Klaus rushes towards him but is stopped by the sound of Elijah’s voice. 

Yay, Lijah. 

“Leave him!”

Klaus, Damon, and I, both turn to look up the stone staircase where Elijah stands. 

“We still need him, Niklaus.”

Klaus takes a step closer to his brother, “What did mother do? What did she do, Elijah?”

Elijah starts walking down the stairs and as he gets to the bottom step he unbuttons his jacket and takes it off. 

Why is this dude stripping right now?

“You’re shaking,” Elijah’s eyes meet mine and he reaches out his jacket for me to take. The cold look he had on his face, moments ago is gone and replaced with a sorrowful look as he gives me a once-over.

Oh. He's being chivalrous and here I’m calling him a stripper. My bad.

I reach out a hand, and as I catch a glimpse of its shaking I now just realize how right Elijah is. I try to muster up a small smile of thanks as I grab the jacket from him and place it over my shoulders. Elijah nods once before turning back and striding over the Damon.

“You tell me where the witches are or I’ll have my sister kill Elena right now.”

“What?!”

I feel my heart drop in my stomach at Elijah’s words and I push on the wall to stand up on wobbly legs. 

“Elijah, what the hell are you talking about?!” For the very first time since meeting him, Elijah ignores me. 

“You told me we had until after 9,” Damon says and I shake my head in confusion. 

“I’m sure Rebekah would be more than happy to start her work early.’’

Elijah’s words send waves of fear through me. 

A look of fear comes over Damon's face and he tries to rush past Elijah but Elijah halts him with a hand to his chest.

“And one last thing you should know. I see you have procured a center fondness for Y/n,” At Elijah’s comment Damon’s eyes meet mine, “As you may or may not know Y/n is my soulmate. As well as my brothers. With that being said if either one of us were to die…Y/n would shortly follow. Just thought you should know.”

Tears begin welling in my eyes as I watch Elijah. Damon looks at Elijah and Klaus, to see if either one of them is bluffing but when looking at both of their grim expressions he clenches his jaw. Damon pushes past Elijah, grabs Stefan, and begins to walk up the stairs. He stops though, momentarily and turns to look over his shoulder. We lock eyes and after a moment he shakes his head harshly and speeds away with his brother. 

Tears stream down my face as I stare at the spot Damon was in only moments ago. 

“Elskan,” Elijah’s soft voice comes from beside me and I flinch.

I take 3 large steps away and I stare wide-eyed at him.

“Do NOT come near me,” I raise an accusing finger at him and shrug off his coat from my shoulders. 

“Elskan, please you don’t understand,” Elijah raises his hands and tries to step closer to me but takes another step away. He frowns at my movement but still stops moving. 

“Understand what, Elijah!? That you’re threatening to kill my best friend?! Or that you’re using me as fucking leverage!”

It’s Elijah’s turn to flinch as I muster whatever strength I have left to yell at him. 

“Elena is innocent! And I thought you were better than this to use my a fucking leverage against my friends!”

Elijah shakes his head, “You’re so-called innocent friend made a deal with my mother to rid my entire family of this earth.”

I shake my head in denial but Elijah continues. 

“I asked Miss. Gilbert to be honest with me and she lied straight to my face. She was willing to let my entire family die, Y/n. But, I’m not. Especially when it means that you will also perish.”

“Elena would never do anything to hurt me,” I shake my head a wipe away the tears flowing down my face. 

“Exactly… that is why I told Damon what would happen to you if my siblings and I were to die.”

Elijah begins to take another step toward me but he is interfered by Klaus.

A snarl leaves Elijah’s lips and I back up to the point where my back is now pressed into the wall. 

“Give her space, brother,” I hear Klaus. Klaus turns over his shoulder to look at my quivering form and I see Elijah’s angry expression hinder as he looks at me. 

“What the bloody hell happened?”

I whip around with teary eyes to see a groaning Kol, walk down the steps, with a look of anger on his face. 

He looks at his brothers but when they don’t give him the time of day, he turns to me. His angry expression dims into confusion when he notices my tear-stained face. 

“Which one of you did this?”

I’m shocked by the angry tone Kol directs at his brothers. 

“Not now Kol,” Elijah glares at his younger brother, who glares back at him. 

“Am I going to die tonight?” My quiet voice catches all three men’s attention and they turn to me. 

“I won’t let that happen, love,” Klaus takes a step towards me but I move around him and find myself standing behind Kol. 

Klaus seems hurt by my action but I honestly don’t give a flying fuck right now.

“What will happen to Theo if I die,” I feel my chest hurt as I mutter to myself. My body begins to shake and I blink rapidly as my vision goes in and out. I try to catch my breath but I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Oh God, I’m suffocating. 

Warm hands press themselves to my face and I think I can hear Klaus’ voice through the ringing that is going through my head. Klaus’ voice is gone though as the ringing in my head gets louder and my breaths get shorter. 

My breathing completely halts as a weight presses itself onto my lips.

I open my eyes and realize that Klaus is pressing his lips to mine. Again. 

I’m practically knocked out of the panic attack I was in as I back away quickly from Klaus who watches my every move. 

My eyes fling from Klaus to Kol who is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, and then I look to Elijah who now won’t meet my eye. 

“Well, now that that is done…I’d like very much to not die today so let’s get this show on the road.”

I look towards Kol who eyes me for a moment before wrapping me under his arm and begins walking me up the stairs. 

I go to take a step but my knees buckle and I begin to fall. 

Thankfully, Kol wraps his arm around my waist and uses his strength to pretty much carry me up the stairs, “Don’t worry love. I’ve got you.”

I look up at him and find myself beginning to tear up again, “Thank you.”

Kol looks down at me and something shifts in his eyes momentarily before he looks forward and smirks, “What are friends for?”

—-

I’m now trudging through a cold, windy ass forest to go stop my soulmate's deranged mother from killing us all. Fantastic. Fuck I’m hungry. 

Klaus, Elijah, and Kol walk ahead of me a few paces as I trudge behind. Kol offered to carry me the way but not wanting to feel like a damsel I denied him. Now as my aching muscles scream at me, I regret it. 

Thankfully, I warm orange light can be seen from up ahead.

Elijah stops and turns to me, “You should stay here. We’ll handle this.”

I glare at Elijah and walk past him and the other two men, “Ya, because you three have been so good at handling things so far,” I spit. 

I try to forget the pain as I march towards the open center of the woods where Esther stands with Finn in a circle of fire and salt. 

Sigmund Freud, you would’ve loved these two.

Elijah comes to stand on my right, Klaus on my left and Kol walks behind them to stand right beside Klaus. 

“My sons, come forward,” Esther says, and god I’ve never wanted to throw a punch at a woman more in my entire life. 

“Stay beside me,” Finn puts his hand out to his mother and I frown at him. 

“It’s okay. They can’t enter.”

“Ya, so why don’t you stop hiding behind your magic and come over here bitch,” I bite at her and I hear Kol snigger. 

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid we haven’t properly met, my dear. I do want you to know I don’t blame you for your anger. I am incredibly sorry that fate has put you with my sons.”

The flames around Esther and Finn engulf and I feel the warmth spread across my cold face. I feel a slight tug on my elbow and Klaus and Elijah come to stand in front of me. 

“Go fuck yourself, Esther.”

“That’s lovely,” Kol says as he looks at the flames, “We’re stuck out here while the favorite son plays sacrificial lamb. How pathetic you are, Finn.”

“Be quiet, Kol,” Esther stops him, “Your brother knows virtue you cannot even imagine.”

“Whatever you think of us killing your own children would be an atrocity.”

Esther shakes her head at Elijah’s words.

“My only regret is that I did not let you die a thousand years ago.”

“Enough,” Klaus exhausts, “All this talk is boring me. End this now, Mother or I’ll send you back to hell.”

A smirk comes onto my face at Klaus’ words. 

“For a thousand years I’ve been forced to watch you; felt the pain of every victim; suffered while you shed blood. Even you, Elijah, with your claim to nobility you’re not better. All of you you’re a curse on this Earth stretched out over generations. If you’ve come to plead for your life I’m sorry. You’ve wasted your time.”

“And what of Y/n,” The mention of my name has me looking at Elijah who points his finger at me, “A girl who is nothing but caring, pure, and good of heart. And yet what? You burden her with death. She does not deserve this mother. She is good… I am asking you…do not harm the woman I love.”

Elijah’s eyes lock with mine and the emotions hidden in them pull something in me I didn’t know existed. 

“Yes, she is innocent. But for how long? How long before your promised immortality results in her death or her transition into a monster like you all? Fate has already given his girl the hand of death. It is better I give her the mercy of a quick one now.”

A wave of anger I’ve never felt before exudes me as I push past Klaus and Elijah and stand at the ring of salt, heat from the fire be damned. 

“You are unbelievable!”

“Excuse me?”

“You sit on your high horse hiding behind your poor son, while you degrade and belittle your other children! Instead of loving them for their faults, you have condemned them to think of themselves as nothing more than monsters. Yes, they have lived a thousand years, and yes they have spilled blood! But who the fuck wouldn’t!? I haven’t known any of them very long but I am sure that these so-called monsters you see as your children are not the people I see before me right now,” I point to Finn who watches me with a cold expression, “Finn for example follows you dutifully because that’s all he knows! It is all he’s been allowed to know! You pushed this idea that he and his siblings are all monsters who deserve nothing and yet here he stands ready to die at your altar for your approval! Finn was betrayed by his siblings for almost a thousand years and when he’s finally awoken I bet you just jumped at the fact that he would cling to the first sign of care and love anyone would show him, didn’t you,” I accuse the glaring woman in front of me and I look as Finn’s gaze turns to his mother, “A woman trying to sacrifice her own son isn’t what he needed Esther, he needed a mother. And what about Kol,” I whip around and point at the boy next to me, “Yes, I’ve only known him two days and he’s already a pain in my ass, but even in those two days he’s shown me more care than my own father or mother have ever shown me! And Klaus…,” I stop and make eye contact with Klaus who is watching me with an unreadable expression, “God…Esther, you are a pathetic excuse for a woman and mother. How many times did you excuse Mikael’s behavior? When Klaus came crying to you in pain, how many times did you just patch him up and then wait with bated breath until the next time he came to you needing help again? I have a mother like you, you know. And I love her because she’s my mother…but I also hate the ground she walks on because she’s an idiotic woman who was too scared to leave a man who caused nothing but pain for her children. And after all of that, you criticize Elijah’s attempts at being a better person?! You just went on and on about them being monsters but the second one of them tries to change you disparage him? Right now I’m pissed off at Elijah, but even though I am that doesn’t stop me from thinking that he is one of the best people I have ever met in my 18 years of life. Before I met him, I was nothing,” I say and I can see my vision start to blur with tears, “I was a quiet girl who nobody cared for. I woke each day waiting for life to be done with me, just as I was done with it. But then…,” I look to Elijah whose eyes are filled with nothing but pure devotion, “I met a man who did something I never thought anyone would ever be able to do…breathe. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t holding my breath around everyone. The day I met Elijah everything changed for me. Meeting him was the best day of my life…and also the first day I truly started living. So don’t you dare for a second blame your mistakes on them! You made your bed now fucking lie in it, Esther.”

 Esther’s glare is harsh but nothing could sway the rage that flows through my body as I stare at the bitch in front of me. 

Esther’s glare instantly shifts into fear and I am pulled back by Kol as the flames around the circle begin to flicker. 

“No! Sisters, do not abandon me!”

Esther’s yells are useless as the flames around us flare up and Kol covers my body with his own. After another moment the heat of the flames is gone.

I glance up at Kol and send him a smile and he nods.

Klaus, Elijah, Kol, and I stand together as we look at the unlit circle where I stone-faced Finn and a frightened Esther stand.

“Finn,” Esther grabs her son's arm, “We must leave now.”

Finn looks down at his mother and then his gaze falls onto me. 

“You’re your own person Finn. Peculiar…but still,” I smile at him and his chest puffs out. 

Finn shrugs out his mother’s hold and shakes his head at her. 

“Finn, what are you doing?”

I feel a sick smirk come onto my face as I look at Esther’s scared expression. 

“I have lived for a thousand years mother, and yet I have spent none of those feeling alive. I think I deserve the chance to.”

I can’t help the giant smile that I feel across my face at Finn’s words. Hell ya, brother!

“Finn you have no idea what you’re talking about! Don’t let this insolent little harlot,” She gestures to me wildly, “Sway you from the plan!”

A flash of motion catches my eye and I let out a yelp as I watch Esther’s head get swiped off her body. 

Elijah stands before his mother’s dead body with a grim expression on his face, “No one is allowed to insult, Y/n. Not even you, mother.”

I blink as I stare at Esther’s decapitated body. 

“Well, mommy dearest is dead again.”

I look up to Kol whose attention goes from his mother’s body to Finn.

“You absolute fool,” Kol bites at Finn, and all three brothers turn to glare at the eldest Mikaelson.

Without thinking I rush in front of Finn and put a hand out stopping his brothers. 

“Off limits!”

“Excuse me?!”

Kol stares wildly at me as if I have three heads. 

“Yep. Just like you and me kol, Finn and I also have our own deal,” I look back towards Finn who looks at me confused before nodding along, “So if you dagger him, I’ll never speak to the three of you again.”

“I can live with that,” Kol mutters not taking his eyes off Finn.

“That’s fine…then that means our deal no longer stands, ankle biter. Tell me,” I smirk at Kol, “How many moth balls does that coffin of yours collect a year?”

Kol turns his glare from his brother to me, but I hold it. 

“If anything I think you all owe Finn an apology. I mean Kol you’re pissed off for being daggered away for a hundred years, and yet you hold no sympathy for your brother who was daggered for ten times that?!”

Kol glare drops slightly as he thinks for a moment before rolling his eyes. 

“I take it back…I wouldn’t want to be your mate.”

“Right back at you.”

With one final look at his brother, Kol speeds off into the dark forest. 

My attention goes to Elijah and Klaus and I raise an eyebrow in challenge at them. 

“What’s it going to be, boys?”

Elijah’s eyes don’t leave mine as he addresses his eldest brother, “Leave Finn.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” I hear Finn whisper to me before he also speeds off into the night.

I look a the two men before me and let out a shaky breath. 

“Soooooooo…..”

“Did you mean what you said?”

I look at Elijah, “That I’m pissed off at you…yes.”

Elijah shakes his head, “Y/n…”

I rub a hand down my face and nod, “Yes. Every word.”

I don’t have time for my hand to move away from my face when I feel two strong arms wrap themselves around me in an embrace. 

I release a shaky breath as I feel Elijah use one hand to grip my waist and the other to hold the back of my head. 

I know I’m not much of a hugger…but damn this feels nice. 

“Thank you.”

Elijah’s soft voice makes me almost forget I’m mad at him…almost. 

“You’re welcome. But, I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know, Elskan,” Elijah says as he leans back and runs a hand through my hair, getting it out of my face. 

A cough interrupts us and I glance over Elijah’s shoulder to Klaus who is watching us with a glare. 

I step away from Elijah, who grunts in disapproval. 

“So, I’m glad we didn’t die. That’s cool.”

Silence.

“Okay…well I’m starving and your mother’s decapitated head is right by my left foot soooooo….can we leave?”

—-

Klaus and I walk silently up the staircase to my front door. Elijah had left us earlier to go tell Rebekah about their mother. 

When Klaus and I get to my door, I wait for him to say something, but sigh when all he does is stare at the door. 

“Ok…Night,” I reach for the handle and begin to turn it when Klaus's hand grabs mine. I turn to look at him in question but before I can even blink I’m being tagged forward into Klaus’ embrace and his lips are attacking mine. It only takes my body a moment to catch on and before I realize what I’m doing I’m kissing him back. This seems to be the approval Klaus needed because he used his hand to grab my waist to pull my flush against his chest and his other hand to grip the back of my neck so I couldn’t move…not that I wanted to. I try to fight for dominance but that is quickly stopped when Klaus bites harshly into my bottom lip, making me exhale. This gives Klaus an opening as his tongue enters my mouth and begins fighting for dominance against my own. An involuntary moan escapes my lips at the feeling and Klaus releases a growl at the noise. 

Klaus releases my mouth as we both catch our breaths.

My eyes widen as I see that Klaus’ once blue eyes are now a bright gold, with dark veins under them. Without thinking I reach a hand up and cup his face, and using my thumb I trace the veins. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I whip around to see Theo wrapped in his fluffy robe with his phone to his ear glaring at Klaus and I, “I’ll have to call you back Jerebaby. My sister’s making out with a serial killer.”

Theo ends the call, stomps out of the house, and puts his hands on his hips sending glares to both Klaus and me. 

“Seriously?! Young lady, in the house now!”

I raise an eyebrow at Theo and he does the exact same.

I turn to say goodbye, or really anything to Klaus but Theo stops me.

“NUH-UH HOUSE NOW!”

I roll my eyes and with a huff, I stomp inside. 

Theo slams the door shut behind us and I whip around to him.

“Seriously, Theodore!?”

“Room now,” Theo yells and I glare at him.

“I’m older than you Theo, you can’t ground me.”

“Well, as the man of this house, I am.”

“You’re wearing a blue fluffy robe with bunny rabbits on it,” I deadpan as I look at my brother’s attire.

“AND?! ROOM NOW! We shall talk about this in the morning!”

I blink once at my brother before shaking my head and trudging over to my room. 

—

After taking a VERY cold shower I finally get to settle down with my lasagna. 

“Hello, Elskan.”

FUCKING SERIOUSLY

I whip around on my bed to see Elijah, who just magically appeared in the corner of my room. Yay. 

“Ya, hi, Elijah. No offense but I haven’t eaten anything at all today and almost getting killed by a one thousand-year-old witch really does something to the stomach. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat while you say whatever it is you’re going to say.”

I huff and then stuff a forkful of pasta into my mouth. 

“Of course, Elskan. Please don’t starve yourself. I’ll say my peace and then leave you.”

I hum to him as I pick a huge piece of pasta up with my fork and shove it into my mouth. 

“I am leaving Mystic Falls.”

I feel my lasagna lodge in my throat as I inhale.

I clutch my throat as I feel myself choking and try to cough up my food.

“Y/n!”

Elijah runs to my side and hits my back and I spit out the chunk of pasta onto my plate. 

With a shaky breath, I look up to Elijah who is staring at me, wide-eyed, “What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?!”

Elijah shakes his head, “Are you alright?” I glare at him, “Elijah answer my question.”

Elijah eyes me for a moment before shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. He walks back over to the corner of my room and places himself on my desk chair. 

“I am leaving.”

I blink, “Ya… I got that.”

Elijah sighs, “What I did today was unforgivable. I went against my moral code and hurt not just you, but your friend. I betrayed your trust and threatened an innocent girl's life. I can never forgive myself. That is why I must leave. My siblings will stay here to make sure you stay safe, but…me being around will only cause more pain.”

“Are you serious?”

Elijah picks up his head to meet my glare. 

With a huff, I put my pasta, which is now cold, onto my side table, and stand up. With my hands on my hips, I walk over to Elijah and stand before his seated figure.  

“Elijah you are a grown man, act like it.”

Elijah’s eyes narrow at my words, “Excuse me?”

“You talk a big game about taking accountability but right now, that is the farthest thing from what you are doing. You made a mess, clean it up. Don’t run away just because you’re scared of the repercussions.”

Elijah stands up, and I inhale when I realize just how close we are now.

“I am not scared,” Elijah’s low voice sends shivers down my spine as he leans down to meet my eye level. 

I puff out my chest, “Is that so? Because all I see right now is a man who doesn’t go for anything he wants. Who is just letting everyone walk all over him. Elijah…you fucked up. But, running away is not going to change that. Own your mistakes, don’t hide from them.” 

Elijah’s nostrils flare slightly and he raises an eyebrow, “You think I don’t go for what I want?”

The challenge in his voice makes a warmth flow throughout my body, “Yes…”

As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Elijah raises his hand and grips my throat pulling me into him. A startled gasp leaves my throat but it is quickly muted by the pressure of Elijah’s lip on my own. My mind seems to be working a mile a minute as I try to understand everything that is happening right now. Elijah is kissing me. Kissing me. Elijah is kissing me, while his hand is wrapped around my throat. 

Kinky.

No, Y/n. Shut up. 

As soon as I start to piece together everything, the pressure of Elijah’s mouth and his hand are gone. I blink as I see Elijah look almost hurt. 

“You didn’t like that…I’m so sorry Elskan. I’ll go.”

Elijah’s words make me highly confused because I indeed liked what he just did.

“Why do you think I didn’t like it?”

Elijah’s eyebrows furrow, “You were distracted. I felt it. And you…,” He pauses and I see his cheeks turn a light pink. He’s nervous, “You didn’t kiss me back.”

Seeing Elijah’s hurt expression, mixed with his tinted cheeks pulls something out of me, and before I can stop myself I grab his tie and drag him over to me. As soon as he’s a few inches away I slam my lips onto his. 

A shocked grunt escapes his throat and then a moment later he’s grabbing both of my cheeks and pulling my face flush against his. Just like with Klaus, I try to fight for dominance but that is short-lived with the intense pressure Elijah is kissing me with. 

After a dizzying few minutes, Elijah unlocks our lips and rests his forehead against mine and I can’t stop the giggle that leaves me. 

“Friends definitely don’t do that.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Cherubim.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Implied trauma, Gojo and Geto are both weird + manipulative. Word count: 6k.

-Index-

March 18th, 2006. 

2:26 p.m.

-

Gojo Satoru has found himself embroiled in his greatest turmoil yet. 

Assassination attempts? That’s nothing, he’s waved those off since he was a kid. Jujutsu politics? The higher-ups can yap until they’re blue in the face; they’re all bark, no bite. Curses? Similarly inconsequential. No matter how much power they hold, they're reduced to speckled splatters the instant they cross his path. 

For most, experiencing one of these dilemmas would prove too overwhelming, much less all three. He isn’t like most, though. He’s strong. Incomprehensibly strong. He can weather any storm, shift the tides of any battle in his favor. Has this gone to his head? Absolutely. He can handle ‘too much.’ It’s ‘not enough’ that’s proving to be an issue. 

This is why he’s detailing his recent woes to an uninterested Ieri Shoko, who made the mistake of reading in the dormitory’s common area. 

The scene is as follows:

Satoru’s along the length of the couch, his long, lanky limbs dangling wherever they can. He lays his head against the armrest, snowy hair succumbing to gravity in an avalanche that frames his face. He uses his ability to keep his sunglasses from meeting the same fate. Behind the dark frames, his eyes narrow into a piercing stare. If the ceiling were sentient, it would’ve fled by now. Such is the potency of his miserable mood. 

Parallel to him sits Shoko, the fat of her cheek squished upward from resting on her fist for so long. Books, candy wrappers, and notes from last year’s curriculum yet to be thrown away litter the table’s surface. Suguru’s could put a calligraphist to shame, even if they were written in a Badtz-Maru pencil you won from a gachapon. Your notes stand out as well. They’re bright shades of your favorite colors, organized according to a system of your own devising. Occasionally, the handwriting shifts, taking on Suguru or Shoko’s likeness for trickier kanji. You doodle hearts of gratitude around the yomigana they include for good measure. 

(You complained that his handwriting was ‘indecipherable’ when he tried doing the same. Out of spite, he gave you the cold shoulder… for three minutes. He withers and wilts without your attention). 

He sighs and concludes his monologue. 

“So, that just about sums everything up. Well? What’s the prognosis, Doc?” 

“You’re in desperate need of more friends,” Shoko replies. Satoru lets out an unsatisfied grunt. “And you miss [First].” 

Satoru perks up at your mention, finally giving that poor ceiling a much-needed reprieve. He shuffles around until he’s facing Shoko. 

“But she just headed out yesterday.” 

“I know.” 

“That’d make me really weird and clingy, right?” 

“Glad you’re catching on.” 

While Satoru contemplates the previously unconsidered possibility of him being ‘really weird and clingy,’ Shoko reopens her manga. She’s of the mistaken belief that the issue has resolved itself. Unfortunately for her, the problem extends beyond Satoru’s insatiable hunger for you. The problem is Satoru himself. Until he’s running amuck elsewhere, there’ll be no solace. 

She commends herself for her patience. 

In typical Satoru fashion, he continues testing it. 

“When was the last time you updated your passport?” 

“I’m not flying to her home country with you,” Shoko shuts down what he thought was a brilliant plan. “It’s just two weeks. Wait it out.” 

“What if we fly first class?” 

“Gojo.” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s still too soon to meet her parents. It’s gotta happen eventually though, right?” 

Shoko doesn’t dignify this with a response. 

Satoru sinks into the cushions. Could there be anything worse than boredom? He has no missions lined up, you and Suguru are visiting family, and the first-years haven’t arrived yet. Pestering Utahime has lost its charm too. He could return home before the school year starts, but he’d rather have his fingers chopped off one by one than suffer that torture. 

“Hey, Shoko.” 

“Mm.” 

“Why aren’t you back home? I thought you got along with your parents.” 

“They’re both busy. I wouldn’t see them much.” 

Satoru doesn’t press the matter. 

It does intrigue him though — the relationship sorcerers have with their non-sorcerer families. Or, to be more specific, yours and Suguru’s familial dynamics intrigue him. Satoru can’t (and doesn’t bother trying) to care for the going-ons of anyone outside his small circle. This is more the hubris of a teenager who has been told he’s special his entire life than anything malicious. To Satoru, the world’s population might as well be stuck at three. 

Regardless, it’s an improvement.

Before meeting Suguru, those in his life consisted almost exclusively of suckups or stuckups. If he was unlucky, it’d be both, rolled into one terrible package. This was his reality. Jujutsu was his reality. He was the first to possess the Limitless and the Six Eyes in generations. The Gojo clan wouldn’t waste such an extraordinary opportunity. He was their pride and joy, personality aside. 

He was born to be the strongest. 

He can’t imagine any other life for himself. 

Then there’s you. 

He could see you leading a normal life. You wouldn’t be top of the class or a varsity athlete, but you’d be well-liked. Boys would nervously ask you out on dates and buy you roses with money they got from mowing lawns. You’d be the first one your friends would call when they experienced heartache. Maybe you’d go to college or land an entry-level job. Some co-worker with a decent sense of humor would win you over. Then you’d get married, rent a property, have a few kids… 

Satoru’s stomach twists. He grimaces, shifting his thoughts elsewhere. Namely, the question that’s bothered him for a while. 

Why did you become a jujutsu sorcerer? 

It was intentional. You chose to leave behind your home, your family. You knew the risks. How the body can break and ache in ways previously unrecorded. And what do you get in return for this thankless crusade? Sleepless nights where you tremble like a leaf beside Shoko? A nimbleness at dressing wounds that could only have come from years of practice? 

You’re open about everything until you aren’t. Fear, mortality, loss — when confronted by these unsightly truths, you retreat to someplace he can’t follow. 

Satoru can’t make sense of it. Neither can Suguru. Shoko says they shouldn’t press the matter. He wants to, though. He needs to know how you break. How else can he ensure that you never will? 

He thinks back to that humid August day. The binding vow eviscerated your insides, shards from fractured bones dug into your organs. Until that point in his life, Satoru prided himself on his immunity to fear. The pathogen never lasted long in his system. After all, fear is born from a lack of control. From having something to lose. If he couldn’t lose, what was there to be afraid of? 

It’s a question he’s been avoiding. 

(“If she dies,” he told Suguru, in a voice he barely recognized as his own, “They die too.”)

His mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy. He’ll drink that tea you’re fond of later to satiate his thirst. He wonders if you share its taste.

“What’re you reading, anyway?” he asks, hoping to take his mind elsewhere.

“Fruits Basket.” 

He laughs, incredulous. 

“Seriously? Didn’t take you for a shoujo type.” 

“I borrowed it from [First]. We’re doing a book exchange over break.” 

A book exchange… three words Satoru never thought would pique his curiosity. However, anything about you demands his undying attention. Even if it’s shoujo manga. Girls who read that genre do it to project onto the heroine, right? So the love interest must have appealed to you. What tropes do you like? Do you want a shy, sensitive soul who blushes and stutters in your presence? A misunderstood bad boy who’s only soft around you? The responsible student council president? 

Oh, he’ll have so much material to tease you with when you return. He can’t wait. 

“How do I enter this exclusive book club?” Satoru demands. 

“You don’t. I don’t trust your taste,” Shoko replies, much to his chagrin. “You can still read it, though. She has all of the volumes in her room.” 

… Your room? 

He grins from ear to ear.

Should he respect your privacy? Probably. Is he going to? Of course not. He never has, there’s no point in starting now. 

This trip of yours might yet redeem itself. 

-

Along the outskirts of Jujutsu High, Geto Suguru spots an odd woman. 

She’s wearing a baggy graphic tee, low-rise jeans, and gaudy bracelets on both arms. Her black hair is tossed up, thick strands sticking in every direction. Even from this distance, he can discern the silver glint of piercings that dot her ear like constellations. The stranger stands slouched, both her hands shoved into her pockets. For her to have gotten this far, she can’t be a civilian. Those unfamiliar with jujutsu can’t find this place. 

He stays still for a spell — watching and waiting. From this distance, she shouldn’t be able to sense his presence. It’s one of the few areas he excels at over Satoru. Satoru’s cursed energy is bright, blindingly so, a thunderous clap that can be heard for miles. Suguru prefers to keep his muted. It coils around his limbs like a serpent, never straying far. This is why you had no difficulty picking out Satoru’s stupefying presence on your first day, whereas he had to make himself known to you. 

Suguru’s lips quirk up. 

He was fated to meet you. 

“Hey! Kiddo!” A deep, somewhat raspy voice exclaims. He blinks rapidly, temporarily thrown off. “This ain’t an art gallery. What’s with the staring?” 

She noticed him? How? 

When the stranger starts slinking his way, he regains his composure. 

“I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable,” Suguru’s cadence flows smoother than a river. 

“Hah! ‘Uncomfortable?’ That’s a way of putting it,” she pokes the space beneath her emerald eyes twice. “Even now, I can feel ya picking me apart. Shit’s creepy.” 

His smile tightens. “I’ll be more mindful of my conduct in the future, then.” 

She waves him off. Her golden bracelets clink together as she does so, the sound grating his ears. 

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. And I should know. Schemers excel at picking out their brothers in arms,” she juts her head up, giving the impression that she’s the one looking down on him, despite the slight height difference. 

“Anyhow, by the looks of it, you must be Sugu-kun.” 

… Did she just call him Sugu-kun? 

“What? Too soon* to be calling you that? Heh, heh…” 

Suguru’s smile tightens. “You can refer to me however you like, so long as I can return the favor.” 

She guffaws.

“Maaan, Goldie sure was gracious in her description of you,” the woman gives him a lopsided grin. “Name’s Akane. There — is the playing field leveled now?” 

“Ishimoto Akane?”

He doesn’t miss the way she winces as her surname is spoken aloud, rather pointedly at that. 

“Ah. S’pose I had that coming.” 

Suguru decides against prolonging her torment. He’s in a generous mood, it isn’t every day he has a chance to learn more about you. This is an opportunity he’ll take full advantage of. 

“And I presume 'Goldie' is [First]?” 

He makes a mental note to figure out the wordplay for your nickname later. 

“Full marks.”

Suguru hums, a sound indicating that he’s drifting deep into thought. 

You don’t mention your mentor often. When you do, it’s normally in the form of endearing (if not mildly concerning) anecdotes.

“She told me that natto is bits of caramel held together by melted marshmallows, like a Rice Krispy Treat. It… it was not like a Rice Krispy Treat…” 

“... For my twelfth birthday, she got me Pokemon Ruby. I remember crying because Roxeanne’s Nosepass took out my Torchic. My cursed energy spiked and the party had to end early…” 

“... Out of curiosity, I drank her stash of Georgia canned coffee. My heart rate was almost high enough to warrant a trip to the ER…” 

Getting anything else relating to her out of you was like trying to wring water from a rock. Suguru didn’t miss the wistful melancholy underpinning your stories. You recalled them with a far-off expression as if mourning that those days of whimsy were over. Initially, he considered it a consequence of growing up. Childhood idols rarely remain highly esteemed as the years pass and maturity accrues. 

His intuition argued that he should examine the issue closer.

(“I met her, y’know,” Satoru mentioned whilst he spun in a rolling chair ‘commandeered’ from Yaga. “Akane. Our girl’s mentor. Former mentor? Whatever the case is.” 

Suguru sat his pencil aside, any investment in his studies gone.

“When?” 

“Last March.” 

Suguru sighed. “And you didn’t bring this up earlier because…?” 

There’s a twinkle in his companion’s sunglasses-covered eyes.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Satoru shrugged. 

Liar, Suguru thought, unamused by Satoru’s faux nonchalance. He must’ve had his reasons for neglecting to mention it for so long. Suguru figured your impending trip home had something to do with Satoru’s ‘miraculously’ cured amnesia. 

“What? Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

The provocation failed to irk him. Instead, Suguru refocused the conversation.“Tell me your impression of her.”

Satoru stilled, threw his feet atop Suguru’s desk, and placed his hands on his neck. “About what you’d expect from a disgraced daughter of an influential clan. Bad-tempered, tattooed, pierced up… hah! Bet her old man would go into cardiac arrest if he saw her.” 

“Satoru,” he implored. 

“Fine, fine. So impatient,” The white-haired sorcerer complained. “I misread her. She got all mopey after she fessed up about Cursed Technique: Null. I wrote it off as envy. The student exceeding the master, or whatever.” 

Satoru remained silent for a moment. “Post Kaizu, though, I assume the feeling actually gnawing at her… ” 

Kaizu. 

Panicked phone calls. Satoru’s agitated exclamations. His horrified silence. Your breathing faded, theirs accelerated. You looked so small. So human. He scarcely believed the limp girl cradled in his arms just executed such a devastating maneuver. Your cursed energy had exceeded any output he’d felt from you before. It was too much, your body wasn’t ready to endure a spike like that. 

Suguru had never felt so distant from the title ‘strongest.’

At some point later on, in a hospital waiting room, Suguru posed a question. 

Satoru heard him yet offered no response.

“Who taught her how to do that?”

“... was guilt.”)

“You didn’t visit her.” 

Akane blinks. 

“Hah?” 

“You didn’t visit her,” Suguru repeats, his tone firmer. “[First]. Your student.” 

She exhales shakily. Suguru thinks she looks tired. 

“If you have something to say, just come out with it already.” 

He was prepared to wear her down for hours — this willing cooperation saves him time. Although, it doesn’t make navigating the volatile minefield that lies ahead any easier. He knows how to rein Satoru in when he’s going too far. He can fluster you without giving too much of himself away. After rescuing someone from a curse, he knows the exact pitch, timbre, and tempo necessary to pierce through their abject horror. He’s a virtuoso at playing people, a conductor hidden amidst the audience. 

Deceit. Misdirection. Coercion. 

His repertoire is expansive and ever-growing. 

From what he can see — what he can feel — the prodigal daughter before him boasts a similar discography. She returns his unflinching eye contact as if issuing a challenge. Daring him to use dubious methods that might work on anyone else. This obstinate resolve reminds him of you. Once you’ve determined your course, even he struggles to change the route.

He abandons all pretense. 

“You didn’t want her here,” he theorizes. Akane’s face reveals nothing. “You knew something like that was bound to happen.” 

Sorcerers aren’t only at war with curses. No, there’s an inner battle that must be fought as well. The recognition that the next assignment could be your last. And if it is, you won’t be commemorated by the masses; to them, you don’t exist. Your sacrifice will be known to a select few who mourn you, or  a few who don’t. Everything could go right. Everything could go wrong. Engaging in that high risk for such a low reward goes against one’s self-preservation instincts.

How each sorcerer handles this fight is unique to them. 

As for your strategy — you refuse to acknowledge this conflict exists. 

Paradoxically enough, that functions as your self-preservation. 

Akane smiles thinly. She’s almost his reflection, in that regard.

“Full marks.” 

-

Suguru idly observes as Satoru paces back and forth, his troubled figure illuminated by a row of vending machines. 

A nearby street lamp flickers. It’s late, but the local convenience stores glow with artificial light, tempting customers to come inside. Some are weary salarymen grabbing ready-made meals, others are middle schoolers clinking their change together, praying they can afford a sugary treat. The latest group cheers, indicating their triumph. 

The duo receives odd looks — thanks to their school uniforms, no doubt — not that they pay the judgment any mind. No one troubles them. Not even a wandering policeman, who, under normal circumstances, would scold minors out by themselves at night. 

Suguru theorizes that Satoru’s ominous aura is what subconsciously repels them. 

Earlier today, Suguru bid farewell to his parents and boarded a train for Tokyo. As nice as it was to spend time with his family, he’d been looking forward to reuniting with you and Satoru. He amassed quite the phone bill thanks to your frequent correspondence. Nonetheless, he carried the minor debt with pride; it’s a sign you often thought about him. He planned for Satoru to assume the debt by dangling the pictures you sent his way as ransom. 

His encounter with Ishimoto Akane grounded his soaring mood. This was made worse when he entered the dormitory, only to find a tight-lipped Shoko and agitated Satoru. 

Shoko remarked that unlike the two of them, she’d be handling things with ‘tact,’ and retired for the evening, not wanting to catch their ‘stupidity contagion.’ 

It’d been hours since then. That time stretch brought them closer to revealing the complete picture, but a few pieces remained missing or incomplete. 

The frenetic sorcerer stills and rummages around in his pocket.

Suguru takes the opportunity to break the silence. “I—” 

He cuts himself off as Satoru whips out a familiar-looking chapstick. The cutesy design befitting your aesthetic stands out like a sore thumb in Satoru’s large, calloused hands. 

“... Where did you get that?” 

“[First]’s room,” is Satoru’s response, spoken nonchalantly whilst applying it to his lips. “Why?” 

Suguru snorts. Sometimes Satoru’s ungodly strength blinds him to the fact that he’s still a teenage boy. 

“Won’t she notice it’s missing?” 

“I replaced it.” 

“Ah.”

“She has plenty more in the drawer beneath her vanity if you want one.” 

Suguru knows the exact spot Satoru’s referring to. They both helped you assemble it (Satoru got bored fifteen minutes in and fell asleep on your bed but still claims credit). 

After noting this suggestion, he asks, “Have you calmed down?” 

Satoru barks out a ‘hah!’ as if he’d just heard a hilarious joke. “Me? Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?” 

Suguru massages his temples, sensing the looming headache that awaits him. “Satoru…” 

“We could follow her residuals, you know,” Satoru suggests. He tips his sunglasses down, revealing eyes that gleam with predatory intent. “With the Six Eyes, it’d be a walk in the park.” 

“And then what?” 

“Oh, you know, chat about the weather, latest political scandals, that sort of thing.” 

“You can’t strong-arm yourself through everything in life, Satoru,” Suguru chastises. 

Satoru opens and closes his lips. He folds his arms, scrunches his eyebrows together, and rapidly taps his foot. The shift puts Suguru at ease. Satoru adopts this countenance on the rare occurrence he’s faced with a formidable threat. The serious, almost somber visage speaks to his ironclad resolve. Suguru may have told his companion that he can’t strong-arm himself through everything, but that’s a half-truth; the Gojo clan’s pride can do whatever he pleases. 

It’s consideration of the aftermath that Suguru wishes to instill in his companion. Tempering the arrogance of a God is no easy feat. 

“... She isn’t going anywhere,” Satoru declares, as if any other outcome was blasphemous. 

“She isn’t,” Suguru agrees. Then, he lowers his voice, adding, “We can’t disregard what Ishimoto-san is getting at, though.” 

“Simple — all our girl needs is a good ol’ fashioned intervention.” 

“An ‘intervention,’” Suguru deadpans. “Didn’t you already try that?” 

Satoru smiles in a way Suguru can only describe as dopey, reminiscing on the night you got ‘mad at him for wanting you to be mad at him.’ That’s how Suguru interpreted the detailed account Satoru gave the next morning, anyway. 

(“I wish she would’ve cried, just a little bit; it would’ve made her look extra cute,” Satoru cooed, to which Suguru shot him an exasperated look. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. You’d make her cry just so you could wipe her tears away.”)

Suguru shakes his head. “Here’s what I think — the self-sacrifice in and of itself isn’t the problem. Well, the main problem. There has to be a reason, something personal… identifying that takes priority.” 

A gust rips through the narrow street, howling as it terrorizes store signs and doors with weak hinges. The two strongest sorcerers remain oblivious to the drift. What occupies their mind is greater than any force of nature, insignificant or otherwise. They have the means to challenge natural phenomena itself. And they would, should they deem it an obstacle to their goals. This single-minded determination is what elevates them beyond the rest. 

“I guess the old man has a soft spot for us after all,” Satoru says, referring to Yaga, Suguru guesses.

Breathlessly, he chuckles. “Maybe.” 

Studying Satoru from his peripherals, he silently mulls over the far likelier reality—  

—that Yaga understands Satoru’s potential for saving this world is matched only by his capacity to condemn it. 

-

From a young age, Ieri Shoko found irony everywhere she looked.

It’s prevalent in the medical field she wishes to pursue. When stabbed, it’s better to leave the knife in than immediately pull it out. For an immune system to better defend itself from a virus, it must first be exposed to it in trace amounts. If an appendage becomes too infected, removing that piece of the body is better than keeping it whole. It was you who pointed out this theme extends into the world of jujutsu. 

“You’d think fighting to survive a curse instead of defeating it would be an okay alternative, right?” You had said. “But really… that just means someone else gets to foot the bill. All ‘cause you cheaped out.” 

She regrets not asking you to elaborate. At the time, the observation felt so personal, so intimately interwoven with who you are, that she thought it best to leave it alone. 

Watching you now, lounging on the swing beside her, she’s determined not to repeat her previous mistake. 

“Tired?” 

“Well, yeah,” you laugh. It sounds off. “I wasn’t meant for long flights. It takes everything out of me, y’know?” 

Shoko unsuccessfully digs around her pocket for a lighter. The search ceases when she recalls its inopportune location — left behind in her dorm room in the rush to be the one who reaches you first. Not sure what else to do with her hands, she folds them onto her lap. Meanwhile, you pick at a stray thread on your jeans. 

“I didn’t mean from traveling,” she clarifies. 

“Hm?” 

“How many curses did you exorcise back home?” 

Your fingers go still.

“I dunno… a few?” You shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “If I happen across them, I’m not gonna just let them run amuck. That’d be irresponsible.” 

Your nonchalance comes across as forced. You may be keeping your words lighthearted, but she can tell you’ve dialed up your senses, monitoring her closely. It reminds her of a cornered mouse. It’s then that any lingering doubt over her choices leading up to this moment dispels. Resolve strengthened, she swears to make as much progress as she possible before those two catch on. She felt a bit bad lying about your flight’s time, but felt the situation justified the call. 

“It feels different when they’re close to home, doesn’t it?” 

Shoko’s eyes scan over the lively park before them. There’s a group of children playing with one another, some scouring the grass for bugs and others playing tag. Their guardians watch from a distance, chatting amongst themselves, likely discussing the upcoming poor weather or latest neighborhood scandals. Young couples walk hand in hand along the pathways, cheeks flushed from the joy of experiencing their first love. 

“Encountering a curse is draining. Fighting them, even more so. But when they’re on a street you walk every day, or a few blocks over from your house, you can’t help but start thinking. ‘What if I hadn’t come this way? Would it have hurt people I know? People I love and care about?’”

Her eyes find yours. “‘What if it killed them?’”

You look like you’re going to be sick. 

She ignores how your expression contorts her stomach and continues. “Sorcerers are in the minority, it’s true. So… fighting to survive isn’t selfish. It’s strategic.”

In the distance, the rough silhouette of two individuals grows clearer. The spotlight she commandeered grows fainter with their every step. In what remains of the fading limelight, she considers you. The CC cream that conceals the worst of your exhaustion, how your pupils dilate from high caffeine intake, then your fingers. The keys that when steepled just so, open the future for others at the cost of permanently locking yours. 

She reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. 

“Remember — we won’t be much help to anyone if we’re six feet under. So let’s aim to stay above ground.” 

-

The evening sun sinks into the horizon, demanding acknowledgment in its final moments by dousing all in a fiery hue. 

Your uniform absorbs the brunt of this last stand. The dark fabric devours the waning sunlight, heating you from head to toe. It didn’t fully occur to you that you were back when you walked through the torii gates lining the mountainous path. Nor when you unpacked in your dorm, stuffing your passport away until your next break, where it’ll serve you faithfully again. 

Instead, it was the simple act of putting your uniform on again that made home seem far, far away. 

You’d gotten used to your clothes smelling like your mother’s preferred detergent. It’s a brand you couldn’t find in Japan, sold exclusively in your home country. You wondered what meal your parents were having when you straightened out your collar. If your neighbor ever fixed that rumble their old sedan huffed out as you slipped into your tights. Whether your grandpa knew you’d landed safely when you brushed lint off your skirt. 

The campus atmosphere is serene. Tengen’s barrier is a bulwark against curses, insulating you from any potential threats. Without this assurance, some part of you was always on the defensive, anticipating anything when you slept in your childhood bedroom. It siphoned away your vitality, just like Shoko pointed out. 

You sniffle and kick a rock aside. 

How does it always end up like this?

First Akane, now Shoko, you hug yourself. I just want to protect others. What’s so wrong with that? If I don’t, then who will?

You pause abruptly. 

When Akane began mentoring you, the world as you knew it changed. Suddenly, you were given knowledge no one else was privy to, for they lacked the tools to comprehend it. You’d seen those ‘creatures’, but it was Akane that explained their malevolent nature. What they could do, the pain they inflicted, how defenseless the population at large was against them. 

The shadow that this monstrous threat cast could never be outshone by light. The best you could do was create safe pockets the size of pins in the darkness. That was the extent of your hope, the most bitter pill you’ve ever swallowed.

The lingering specter of Shoko’s reassuring touch prickles along your hand. 

It’s easy to forget you’re not alone anymore after fighting by yourself for so long. 

-

Eventually, you happen upon a clearing near the school’s main grounds. 

The steep inclines surround a sizable outdoor track. This area is known colloquially as the school’s training grounds. You prefer to train in a more secluded, wooded area, but not everyone shares your enthusiasm for subtlety. Namely, the two prodigies who have turned the field into a colosseum that’d rival the battles of ancient Rome. 

You take a seat on the grassy hill and watch what unfolds. 

Your eyes can scarcely follow the blows Suguru and Satoru exchange. Their sparring sessions are unreal — blurring the very fabric of reality. Somehow, they manage all this without using cursed energy. The spectacle you’re witnessing is simply hand-to-hand combat. It’s like watching a film with skipping frames. In a matter of seconds, they can travel a hundred meters and return to their original position. Your brain struggles to process the stimuli your senses are feeding it. 

They were already strong when you met them. But now? The nomenclature doesn’t exist to properly classify them. 

And in the future… 

There’s no telling what highs they’ll reach or the ceilings they’ll shatter. 

Their light is the most dazzling you’ve ever seen.

Within a few minutes, they conclude their training session. Satoru instantly beelines toward you, whereas Suguru cycles through stretches. There’s not even a single drop of sweat on Satoru’s body as he plops to your right. He’s wearing his signature sunglasses, despite the night's looming shadow. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep or something?” Satoru asks. “It’s past your bedtime.”

You punch him lightly on the shoulder. He yelps out an exaggerated ‘ouch!’ rubbing the area to soothe the nonexistent wound. 

Suguru approaches at a far more leisurely pace, sending a wave that you return in kind. 

Satoru, not one to be forgotten, yells out, “Be careful, Suguru! She’s violent!” 

“Only against those who deserve it,” Suguru replies.

Fondness blossoms inside your chest as you laugh. You’d forgotten how simple life feels around them. It’s as if when the three of you are together, you’re swallowed by a pocket dimension, isolated from everyone and everything. Permanently inhabiting this utopia is a temptation. 

Satoru places his hands behind his head and lays onto the ground. “Here I am, potentially out of commission forever, without a single ounce of sympathy to show for it.” 

“We could always settle in court,” you offer. 

Suguru stands before you, hands on his hips. “Or he could finally figure out how to use reverse cursed technique.” 

At this, Satoru shoots back up, his sunglasses falling askew. “Hah? Last I recall, you gave yourself a headache giving it a go. At least I’m not that bad.” 

“Hurdles are necessary to improve. Without any, how do you know you’re truly making progress?” 

Satoru gives him a grossed-out look. “All this philosophizing is gonna turn your hair gray before you hit twenty.” 

“That’s rich, coming from the guy whose hair is already white,” You point out. “What’s that say about you?” 

Suguru muffles his laughter behind his hand. 

Satoru’s quick to overcome his incredulity. “It says that I’m going to spoil the next volume of Inuyasha. Sesshomaru—” 

You cover your ears and sprint off. “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you, can’t hear you…!” 

He chases after you, periodically shouting the names of the main characters right when you think he’s finished. You do your best to block out his voice, running like your life depends on it. He’s hot on your heels, cackling at your expense. After a stretch of silence, you uncover your ears, hesitantly turning around to check if he’s finished his torture. 

You meet Satoru’s gaze. His lips are parted, his eyebrows slightly raised. Your reflection in his dark lenses appears equally perplexed. He straightens his sunglasses and regards you with an unreadable expression. 

“... You’ve gotten faster.” 

The comment is so quiet, you’re unsure if you heard him correctly. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, waving you off. “You shoujo-loving types sure take this stuff seriously. It’s almost cultish.” 

“I don’t wanna hear that from the guy who references Digimon like it’s some sorta scripture!” 

“Honda Tohru is a lame heroine.” 

You audibly gasp. “Wh— you take that back!” 

And so it’s your turn to chase Satoru, who, for reasons unknown, is oddly knowledgeable regarding Fruits Basket. 

-

“Could you guys be honest with me about something?” 

“All depends.” 

“Of course.” 

Satoru and Suguru’s responses come out simultaneously, the contents offering little reassurance. You’re not sure what you expected. Nonetheless, you press past the gnawing discomfort, your conversation with Shoko a fresh memory. 

“Did Akane stop by while I was gone?” 

You scrutinize their countenances for involuntary reactions that might betray their inner thoughts. You begin with Satoru, who was in the middle of cleaning his sunglasses when you posed the question. His eyes, which normally brim with mischief, have an eerie calmness about them; like sheets of ice that were once choppy waters. He smiles softly and slips his lenses back into place, undoubtedly aware of the intent behind your stare. 

Then there’s Suguru. He hums, as if finding your inquiry unexpected and not an inevitable point of contention. He’s a more challenging puzzle to decipher than Satoru. With the latter, you can roughly gauge the greater picture, blurry and incomplete as it may be. Suguru, on the other hand, hasn’t given you enough pieces to attempt a solution. 

Satoru continues mulling over your question while Suguru responds, “Is that what’s been worrying you lately?” 

So they picked up on it too, you think. 

Frowning, you shift in your seat. Blades of grass tickle your thighs and you push your skirt down. 

“Er… not that, specifically,” you admit. You feel like you’re surrounded by walls that know just how far to close in to give the impression you might be crushed. “I just… I’ve been thinking. About why I’m here— what I’ll go on to do. And, well…” 

Much to their surprise, you stand, squeeze your eyes shut, and bow ninety degrees. 

“For so long, I’ve carried this burden. The truth is, when I first learned about Null, I was relieved. I’d always have something to rely on in the worst-case scenario. But at the same time… that meant not using it could also be a mistake. You have no idea how much that scared me.” 

You curl your hands up into fists. “I don’t want to think that way anymore. I see it now — have for a while, actually — strength I couldn’t even imagine before. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m in your care. If it’s alright, I want to rely on others, starting with you two.” 

Your heart pounds wildly in the silence that follows. 

Maybe this is selfish too, you think. But I don’t want to be alone anymore. 

You hear Suguru speak your name. It isn’t until he repeats it, his tone kind yet firm, that you straighten yourself and face him. 

Satoru stands further back, scratching his neck. Much to your confusion, a red flush has risen to his cheeks, extending up to his ears. Suguru corrects your staring by taking your face in his hands and redirecting your attention to him. Warmth envelops you. Your faces are inches apart, but somehow, the distance feels nonexistent, like he’s peering into your mind unhindered. 

“Surely, you can dream bigger than that,” Suguru chastises.

“... Eh?” 

“Do you think so little of us?” Satoru grumbles. It almost sounds like he’s pouting. Was he not listening to anything you just said? The sincerity behind your every word? Why are they both acting like you insulted them? 

“Eh?!” 

“I’m glad you’ve come to this realization, but… you don’t have to rely on anyone else. Just us,” Suguru takes a step back, though he keeps one hand cupping your cheek. You feel lightheaded. “After all…” 

“... We’re the strongest.” 

notes:

*this pun actually works decently in english ?? but akane is making a reference to how suguru sounds phonetically similar to すぐ, or sugu, which means 'soon.'

[bellaveux]

Hello! I really loved your medic!Reader x Natasha writing! May I request some angst/comfort involving that trope where instead of Natasha usually getting injured/bruised, it’s reader? Love your writings! ❤️

easier said than done | n. romanoff

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: she didn’t want you on this mission—her only thought was keeping you safe. but despite her efforts, even she couldn’t protect you from getting hurt.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, medic!reader, protective!natasha, injured!reader, injuries, blood (idk what else i’m missing tbh)

word count: 7.4k

Natasha sat at her desk, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of a dossier Fury had handed her earlier that day. The mission briefing was all there in black and white—an overseas operation, something high-stakes and unpredictable. Fury had been clear about the potential dangers, but he had also given her an option: take one other agent, someone to fill in for the things Natasha didn’t specialize in… someone to feed her information in her ear, while also being there for support of any kind. A medic or a recon specialist, someone who could handle the things that might slip through the cracks.

She’d nodded at the time, but in her mind, she already knew she preferred to work alone.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t rely on others, but this mission was dangerous, even for someone with her experience. Too many variables, too much at stake. The idea of taking someone else into that kind of danger made her skin crawl. She’d seen too many good people go down because of decisions like that.

When you walked into the living room, stretching from your long day, your eyes immediately landed on the file in her hands. You didn’t ask, but the curiosity was there, written in the way you tilted your head, waiting for Natasha to explain.

She glanced up, her expression softening when she saw you, “Fury’s given me a new assignment. Overseas.”

You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe, “Sounds serious.”

“It is,” Natasha admitted, her voice low. “He recommended I take someone with me.”

You straightened at that, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, “Oh yeah? Who’d he have in mind?”

“Recon specialist, maybe a medic,” Natasha said, almost offhandedly, her eyes flickering back to the folder in her hands. “Someone who can handle the things from afar. Support. Backup.”

You could feel the tension in her voice, the way her shoulders were stiff even as she tried to keep things casual. And before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I’ll go.”

Natasha’s head shot up immediately, her green eyes locking with yours, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” You pushed off the wall and took a few steps closer, your voice steady. “You said you need someone with a different skill set. I’m a medic, Nat. I can help.”

Natasha’s expression hardened, her jaw clenching slightly. “I don’t need your help with this.”

“That’s not what Fury thinks,” you said, your tone light, but the determination was unmistakable. “He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t think you’d need backup.”

Natasha shook her head, standing up and tossing the file onto the desk with a sigh, “It’s too dangerous. You’re not coming.”

You could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she tried to keep her voice firm, but there was something deeper there—something protective, maybe even fearful. It wasn’t often that she let herself care about someone this deeply, but you’d been around long enough to know when she was trying to push you away to keep you safe.

“Natasha,” you said, your voice softening as you moved closer, closing the distance between you. “I’ve been through dangerous before. I know how to handle myself.”

“This is different,” she snapped, her frustration spilling over as she turned to face you fully. “I’m not putting you in that kind of danger.”

“I’m already in danger every day,” you reminded her gently. “This is my job too.”

Natasha’s eyes flashed with something raw and vulnerable for just a moment before she blinked it away. “You’re not going, and that’s final.”

She turned away from you, her fingers running through her hair, trying to shake off the image of you in harm’s way. The thought of you getting hurt—of losing you because she let you come on this mission—it was unbearable.

For a long moment, the room was quiet, the tension hanging thick in the air. You stood there, watching her, feeling the weight of her refusal. But you weren’t about to let it go.

“I want to go,” you said again, your voice firmer this time. “Not because I think you need me, but because I don’t want you to do this alone. And I know how stubborn you are about working alone.”

Natasha sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she leaned against the desk. She was silent for a moment, her eyes avoiding yours. Finally, she looked up, her expression softening, but her resolve still unshaken.

“I can’t,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t let you come with me.”

You could feel the frustration bubbling up inside you, but you knew where it was coming from. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust you. She just cared too much. You hated that she was pushing you away to protect you, but you also understood it.

It was only a couple nights later, a few days before Natasha leaves for the mission. She still hasn’t found anyone to bring yet, even though you’ve been insisting from time to time.

And you told yourself you wouldn’t do it.

The moment Natasha left the apartment today, her quiet warning still fresh in your mind, you promised you’d leave the files alone. But as soon as the door clicked shut behind her, the silence that followed only seemed to amplify the curiosity burning inside you. The mission folder sat on the desk like a weight, drawing your eyes back to it over and over. Natasha had left it out, maybe even on purpose, part of you thought. Surely she knew you couldn’t resist. You tried to ignore it, busying yourself with the mundane—cleaning up the kitchen, scrolling through your phone—but each time you passed by that desk, it was like the file was calling your name, daring you to take a look.

After what felt like hours but was only minutes, you finally gave in, your resolve crumbling as you stepped closer. Your fingers hesitated at the corner of the folder, heart pounding with the knowledge that this was something Natasha wouldn’t want you to see. But the temptation was too strong. You opened the file slowly, the pages revealing details you weren’t supposed to know—dangerous places, unfamiliar faces, and risks that Natasha had shielded you from. Yet the more you read, the more it felt like you needed to.

It was late, the dim light from the desk lamp casting a soft glow over the apartment as you sat there, quietly flipping through the pages of the mission file. You weren’t snooping, not really—you’d seen enough missions come and go that this one didn’t feel all that different. But as you read through the details, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you could help, even if Natasha couldn’t see it yet.

The front door creaked open, and you heard her footsteps before you saw her—Natasha moving with that quiet, graceful presence she always had. You didn’t look up right away, not until she walked over, her boots light on the hardwood floor, stopping just behind you.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, and a moment later, her hand reached out, gently closing the file in front of you.

“You really shouldn’t be reading that,” Natasha murmured, her voice laced with both affection and exasperation.

You glanced up, meeting her eyes, unfazed by the gentle reprimand, “I know, but… I can do it, Natasha.”

She shook her head slightly, her eyes softening, but you could still see the resistance there. She hadn’t budged on her decision from the last time you asked.

“I don’t want you anywhere near this one,” she said quietly, pulling the file closer to herself as if to protect you from the mere sight of it. “It’s too dangerous.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions rising in your chest, “It’s nothing I haven’t done before, Nat. I’ve handled things like this.”

Her lips pressed together, and she moved to sit beside you on the couch, the file now forgotten. You turned to face her, determination shining in your eyes.

“I’m not asking to be on the ground,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “I’ll be your mission control. You won’t even have to worry about me being anywhere near the danger. I’ll keep an eye on you from afar, talk to you through the earpiece—just like you’ve done a million times with other agents. I can do that for you. And in case you get hurt, I’ll be there to fix you up. I’m was a field medic, Nat, I’m not new to this.”

Natasha looked at you, her gaze intense as she processed your words. You could see the hesitation in her eyes, the way she wanted to say no again but couldn’t bring herself to dismiss you entirely. There was a weight in the air, the acknowledgment that you knew what you were doing, that you could handle this. But for Natasha, it was never about doubting your capabilities—it was about her unwillingness to risk losing you.

Her hand found yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I don’t want you in this mess,” she whispered, her voice low. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt,” you said, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ll be in the safest place possible. You won’t even see me.”

Natasha let out a long, tired breath, her eyes searching yours, torn between her instinct to protect you and the knowledge that you were just as stubborn as she was. You could see it in her face, the way her shoulders slumped slightly, how much she hated the thought of dragging you into something that could go so wrong. But you could also see her trust in you—the faith she had that you could do this, that you were strong enough.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded, just slightly. “Okay,” she murmured. “But you stay back. And you listen to everything I say, no arguments.”

You smiled softly, relief washing over you as you nodded in agreement, “Deal.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, her fingers still intertwined with yours, “I mean it. No heroics.”

“No heroics,” you echoed, leaning into her touch.

Natasha knew, without a shadow of doubt, that you were more than qualified for the job. You were smart—one of the sharpest minds she had ever encountered when it came to recon, able to analyze a situation and strategize with precision that even impressed top agents. And when it came to field medicine, you were nothing short of remarkable. She’d seen you in action, watched the way your hands worked with a steady calm under pressure, saving lives in the most chaotic of circumstances. You weren’t just capable—you were essential.

But even with all that knowledge, Natasha couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that gripped her whenever she thought about you in the field. It was irrational, she knew, to let her mind wander to worst-case scenarios. But the idea of you getting hurt—of you lying on the ground, injured, or worse—tore through her like nothing else could. She had seen too many good people taken out by the dangers she faced every day, and the thought of you being one of them made her chest tighten painfully. Natasha could handle her own pain, her own injuries, but the idea of you being in harm’s way, of her losing you to the unpredictability of a mission, was something she could barely stomach.

She thought about how she’d be relentless in making sure you were nowhere near the line of fire when the mission starts. She’d double-check everything—triple-check, even. Your position would be far from the danger zones. She’d make certain that your vantage point would offer a clear view of the mission, but also a clear escape. She knew the layouts, knew the tactics, and she’d make sure there was no chance you’d be in the crosshairs.

She could handle the risks that came with her line of work, but when it came to you, she couldn’t take any chances.

There’d be times she’d want to look back, to hear your voice in her earpiece just to know you were still safe, still there, far away from the chaos. The mission might require her focus, but nothing could pull her attention more than the thought of your safety, knowing she would do anything—absolutely anything—to protect you.

The mission had been going as smoothly as it started—almost too smoothly.

Natasha really double-checked everything. Every point of entry, every route in and out, every possible variable that could go wrong. She had gone over it again and again in her mind, ensuring that you were far enough away, safely tucked in the quinjet, monitoring everything from your secure position. You had been perfect, calm and focused as you talked in her ear, feeding her intel and updates, watching the scene unfold from the distant safety of the control panels. She had felt reassured hearing your steady voice, knowing you were safe.

But then, something shifted. It was subtle at first, a disturbance she hadn’t noticed right away. Until she heard your voice, clipped with tension in her ear. “Nat… something’s wrong.”

Natasha froze, her heart skipping a beat. She immediately checked her surroundings, her hand instinctively tightening around her weapon as she scanned the perimeter.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice tight, trying to stay calm, but she could hear the urgency in her own tone.

There was static for a second, and then your voice again, strained. “I think… I think there’s movement here. I don’t know how—”

Her blood ran cold. Someone had slipped past. Despite all her precautions, someone had found you.

Natasha’s heart nearly stopped at the sound of your voice cutting out. Panic clawed at her chest as she frantically shoved the data she’d been extracting into her pocket. Without wasting a second, she took off in a dead sprint, her breath coming hard and fast as she darted through the corridors. Her mind was overflowing, thoughts racing at an uncontrollable speed. All her meticulous planning, her assurances to herself that you’d be safe—none of it mattered now.

The only thing that mattered was getting to you.

She could still hear faint shuffling in her earpiece, the sound of you moving, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t close enough, and it wasn’t fast enough. Her gut twisted, every second feeling like a lifetime as she pushed herself harder, faster. Her boots hit the ground in a steady, desperate rhythm, but all she could focus on was the silence that followed. Suddenly, the shuffling stopped. Everything went quiet.

Too quiet.

Her heart pounded louder, panic rising to her throat, threatening to choke her. She felt the dread crawling up her spine as she ran faster than she thought possible. The quinjet was just ahead. She had to get to you—had to make sure you were okay.

Because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

Natasha reached the quinjet only just a minute later, her muscles burning from the sprint, but she barely noticed the pain. One guard stood just outside the entrance, his stance stiff as he surveyed the area. She huffed, and without wasting a second, she grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the side of the jet, knocking him out cold. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, and she barely spared him a glance, her focus entirely on you.

The door to the jet creaked open, and Natasha entered, her senses on high alert. The air was thick, and every step felt heavy as she cautiously made her way through the dim space. Her heart hammered in her chest, her grip tight around her gun. There were two guards already down on the floor, their bodies lifeless. Her instincts kicked in—something had gone wrong, but you’d clearly fought back. Her eyes scanned the interior, her breath catching in her throat. Where were you? She couldn’t shake the feeling of dread settling deep in her stomach, her gaze darting from shadow to shadow, searching, praying to find you.

“Y/N?” she called out, her voice low but urgent, her pulse a wild drumbeat in her ears. No response. She swallowed hard, her body tense as she moved further into the quinjet.

Then, in the far corner, she saw you—crumpled on the floor, unmoving and her world stopped.

Natasha rushed over, dropping to her knees beside you, hands shaking as they hovered over your body. Bruises lined your skin, and a cut on your temple trickled with blood. She cursed under her breath, her mind reeling. She gently lifted your head, cradling you in her arms, her fingers brushing your cheek.

“Hey, I’m here… I’m here.”But her voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

Your vision was hazy, the world coming back into focus in slow, fractured pieces. The first thing you saw was Natasha, her face hovering above yours, panic and relief etched into her face. Her demeanor cracked, and you could see the raw emotion she was holding back. Everything around you felt heavier than it should, the throbbing ache in your body making it hard to move, let alone breathe properly. Despite it all, you found yourself offering her a faint smile, though it hurt to even do that.

“You… should see the other guy,” you mumbled, your voice barely more than a whisper, but still carrying that familiar spark of humor.

Natasha’s reaction was immediate—her breath hitched, and her expression tightened, the tiniest hint of a smile flickering on her lips, though it didn’t last long. She let out a slow, controlled exhale as if grounding herself, before reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. Her touch was gentle, but there was a kind of desperation in the way her fingers lingered against your skin, as if she needed the reassurance that you were still there, still breathing.

“Shut up,” she muttered, her voice low and trembling, though she tried to hide it. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Her eyes told the rest of the story—wide, frightened, filled with emotions you rarely saw on her face. She was always the composed one, the one who could handle anything. But seeing you like this, bruised and bloodied on the floor, had torn through that facade. Even in your hazy state, you could see how much it pained her.

You tried to reach for her hand, but your muscles protested, and the exhaustion weighed you down. The smile you gave her wasn’t much, but it was all you had, an attempt to reassure her even when your body was screaming. You didn’t need to say it, though—she could read you like a book. Her hand stayed on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin, and you could feel the way her tension eased, just a little, as she realized you were still here, still with her.

Natasha hooked her arms under yours, her movements careful but swift as she pulled you to your feet. You gritted your teeth, biting back the groan that wanted to escape as your muscles screamed in protest. Even though the pain clouded your mind, you couldn’t help but notice how gentle she was being—her touch sure, but far softer than it ever was in the field. She practically carried you over to the nearest seat, easing you down with a tenderness that didn’t quite match the sharp intensity still flickering in her eyes.

“I’ll be back,” she murmured, her voice low, calming. She took a moment to make sure you were comfortable before stepping away.

The sound of the bodies being dragged echoed faintly through the jet, but you could barely register it, your eyes growing heavier by the second. Through the haze of exhaustion, you heard the door open, then close with a sharp hiss as Natasha disposed of the enemies who had nearly cost you everything. The quiet hum of the jet followed, and the subtle shift of it lifting into the air was oddly soothing. When she returned, she already had the autopilot engaged, her every move precise and calculated, even in her rush.

But she was barely focused on the instrument panel when she heard it—a soft whisper, fragile as glass, cutting through the hum of the engines. “Natasha?”

Her heart skipped, and without a moment’s hesitation, she turned, making her way back to you quickly. You were trying to hold yourself together, but she could see the strain in your eyes. Your face was pale, and the resolve that usually radiated from you seemed to flicker like a candle about to go out.

“What is it, detka?” Natasha asked, kneeling beside you, her tone urgent but laced with a tenderness that broke through the tension.

You hesitated, biting your lip as you summoned the courage to reveal what you had hidden beneath your shirt. Slowly, you moved your arm from your abdomen, exposing the wound—a seemingly deep, angry cut that glistened with fresh blood, the fabric of your suit stained around it. The sight sent a cold wave of dread crashing over Natasha, and she cursed under her breath.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she demanded, her voice sharp, but it was laced frustration. “You should have told me!”

You offered a small, calm smile, even as your breath hitched slightly from the pain. “I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I could handle it. It’s not… it’s not deep.”

Your words were steady, yet Natasha could hear the tremor that betrayed your nerves, the way your eyes betrayed the battle you were fighting within.

But the adrenaline was fading, and she could see the weariness creeping in. Natasha instinctively leaned closer, her hand moving to assess the wound more closely. “You’ve got to tell me everything, alright? How bad is it?”

You nodded slowly, wincing a little as she touched around the edges of the wound. “It hurts, but I’ll be fine once we get home. Just… promise me you won’t freak out.”

“Too late for that, I think,” she replied, her voice strained. “You’re the one who’s supposed to take care of me, not the other way around.”

Natasha shook her head as she looked down at your wound. All she wanted was to keep you safe, and now, as she looked at you, vulnerability reflected back in your gaze, she was reminded of just how fragile life could be.

She moved silently, her frustration simmering beneath the surface as she carefully guided you toward the stretcher bed in the back of the quinjet. She didn’t say a word, but you could see it—the tense set of her shoulders, the firm grip of her hands as they steadied you, the subtle clench of her jaw as she helped you lie down. It wasn’t anger directed at you, it never could be; it was the helplessness that gnawed at her, the fact that she couldn’t prevent this. She’d done everything to keep you safe, double-checking every detail of the mission, ensuring you were far from the fray, yet somehow danger had still reached you. Her eyes flicked briefly to the blood-stained makeshift bandage on your abdomen. She exhaled quietly through her nose, pushing down the frustration, the fear that lingered just beneath it, and focused on making sure you were comfortable, making sure you were okay.

You needed to assess the damage. With a grimace, you shifted your position, which sent a jolt of pain coursing through you, but you forced yourself to look down at the wound. The fabric of your shirt was torn, and you could see the ugly gash seeping blood, crimson staining your skin.

“It hurts,” you admitted, your brow furrowing as you took stock of what you could see. “But it’s not as bad as it looks. I don’t think it hit anything vital.” You swallowed hard, fighting the dizziness creeping in.

Natasha looked over you, watching as you pressed on it to keep the pressure. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone laced with concern, her green eyes darkening as they studied your face for any sign of distress.

“Yeah,” you continued, the rush of your training and instincts taking over. You looked into her eyes, your voice steady despite the pain radiating through you, “There’s a lot of blood, but I can handle it. Just get me the first aid kit from the storage compartment. I need a sterile dressing. And keep applying pressure on the wound.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice now focused and clear as she sprang into action.

She moved fast, opening the storage compartment with deft fingers, her movements sharp and precise, as if she was preparing for a mission rather than tending to you.

You pressed your palm against the wound, feeling the warmth of your blood seeping through your fingers, a steady reminder of how close you had come to something much worse. She moved quickly, her hands steady as she helped you apply the sterile dressing, her focus narrowing to the wound and the task at hand. Every motion was deliberate, practiced, as if she could will the injury to heal faster by sheer concentration alone. You could see the intensity in her eyes as she pressed the bandage into place, holding it with just the right amount of pressure.

“If the bleeding doesn’t stop, we might have to close it here,” you murmured, your voice softer than usual, but calm.

Natasha’s gaze flickered up at you for a brief second, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t like that idea, you could tell, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she nodded, her hands never leaving the dressing, fingers still firm but gentle.

“It’ll stop,” she said quietly, more to herself than to you.

There was no room for anything else in her mind right now. The idea of stitching you up herself with nothing but a first aid kit—it made her stomach turn. But if it came to that, she would do it. No hesitation. You mattered more than anything else.

But after what felt like an eternity, the bleeding still hadn’t slowed enough. Natasha could see the red seeping through the dressing, staining her hands as she pressed down, her jaw clenched. You shifted slightly, wincing, and she knew it was time.

“Nat,” you said softly, your voice strained but steady. “We have to stitch it… Headquarters is too far… and I haven’t stopped bleeding yet.”

Her heart dropped at your words, though she didn’t let it show. She looked at you, her eyes meeting yours for a long moment, searching for any sign that you were exaggerating, but of course, you weren’t. You were right. She knew you were right, and it frustrated her, the fact that you were in this situation in the first place. She hated seeing you like this—hurt, bleeding, vulnerable. And yet, you were the calm one, the one keeping it together, while she was unraveling inside.

“Okay,” she finally said, her voice rougher than usual. “I’ll do it. Just—just hold on.”

She didn’t wait for you to respond before reaching for the first aid kit again. Natasha had stitched up wounds countless times before, but as looked at you, needle and thread in hand, her fingers trembled. The thought of piercing your skin, of causing you more pain—even if it was necessary—made her stomach twist. She’d done this under fire, in the middle of chaos, but doing it to you? That was different. The stakes felt impossibly high.

You noticed, of course. You always did. Your hand moved to brush against hers, your voice soft but steady despite the pain you were clearly in.

“Nat… it’s okay,” you murmured, your eyes catching hers. “I trust you.”

She paused, swallowing hard as she glanced up at you. The calm in your voice did something to her—grounded her in a way nothing else could. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and gave a small nod, her gaze holding yours for a moment longer.

“Okay,” Natasha said, her voice quiet but firmer now. “I’ll make it quick.”

And with that, she focused, her hands moving with care, the weight of your trust making her steady. She might have been nervous, but you didn’t waver. You stayed calm, and in that calm, she found her own strength.

As she’s started the first stitch, she could see the way your body tensed, the way your breath hitched for just a second before you steadied it. You were doing everything in your power to hide the pain, to keep your face as calm as possible, but Natasha knew. She could see the flicker of discomfort in your eyes, the tight grip you had on the edge of the stretcher. Every wince, no matter how small, sent a pang of guilt through her.

“Sorry, detka,” she muttered softly, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes never leaving the wound as she worked. The thread pulled through your skin again, and you flinched, just a little.

You didn’t say anything, didn’t complain, but she felt it. She always did. Each time her hands moved, she muttered another quiet apology as though she could somehow will the pain away with her words. She hated this—hated that you were hurt, hated that she was the one causing you more pain, even if it was to help. But you didn’t falter, not once. Even through the pain, you stayed steady, biting back the grimaces that Natasha could still see in the tension of your jaw. But no matter how much you tried to hide it, she knew. She always knew.

Natasha finished the last stitch with steady hands, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. She was careful, every move precise, making sure not to hurt you more than necessary. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her focus unwavering even though you could feel the slight tremble in her touch. She didn’t speak much, only the occasional soft apology whenever she noticed you wince.

When she finally tied off the last stitch, she sighed, the tension in her body visibly easing as she put down the needle. Her fingers lingered briefly on your skin, as if to reassure herself that the worst was over. You had been watching her the entire time, admiring how focused she was, how even in a moment like this, she was careful, deliberate. When she sighed, you let your gaze fall down to the stitched wound, and after a moment, you gave a small nod of approval.

“It looks good,” you said softly, your voice a little hoarse but steady. You traced the line of stitches gently, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “Very neat stitching.”

Natasha glanced up at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips, though the worry in her eyes hadn’t fully faded.

“Yeah?” she murmured, as if seeking your approval mattered more to her than anything else. You could see the relief start to ease its way into her expression, but there was still that underlying fear, the worry that she hadn’t done enough

She carefully bandaged the area, her hands gentle, wrapping the wound with methodical movements. She moved almost automatically, but her mind was racing, simmering with frustration. She checked everything, gone over the plan a hundred times in her head, ensuring you would be far from any danger, out of harm’s way. But still, somehow, here you were, injured under her watch.

As she finished securing the bandage, Natasha finally looked at you, her eyes searching your face, and that tight knot of anger coiled inside her chest. She hated that you had gotten hurt, hated herself even more for letting it happen, for not protecting you the way she promised she would. The frustration sat heavy on her shoulders, but she swallowed it down.

“Did you get it?” your voice breaks through the silence, soft but curious

Natasha, still focused on the bandage she’s securing, doesn’t quite register your words at first. Her eyes flick up, briefly distracted

“What?” she murmurs, blinking as if she’s coming back to the moment.

“The data. For the mission,” you repeat gently, watching her.

For a second, her expression falters, the steely resolve she’s worn for the past hour cracking just slightly. She realizes where her mind had gone—far away from the mission and its objective, and entirely on you. You, lying there, hurt and vulnerable, a sight she never wanted to see. Her throat tightens as the weight of everything presses down on her, but she pushes it aside, slipping back into the role she knows best.

“Yeah,” she finally says, her voice low and steady. “I got it.”

But there’s something else in her eyes, something she doesn’t say. But after a moment of silence, feeling the weight of her frustration, Natasha finally mutters under her breath—a sentence she didn’t mean to slip out so easily in front of you.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

Her voice is low, tinged with an edge she can’t quite hide, and the moment it slips out, she almost regrets it. But the frustration is real, bubbling under her skin—anger at the situation, at herself for letting this happen, at the fact that no matter how much she tries to protect you, she can’t shield you from everything.

You shift slightly, eyes flicking away from her as if the words hit harder than you’d expected. There’s a beat of silence before you respond, quieter now, a trace of something resigned in your tone.

“I felt like you were going to say that.”

It stings, that simple acknowledgment, because you’re not wrong. Natasha knows you wanted to help, that you’re just as capable as anyone on the field, if not more. But seeing you here now, hurt, is enough to make her want to pull you away from all of it. The mission, the danger—all of it. She clenches her jaw, fighting the instinct to apologize, but the words sit heavy between you.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you to go.”

Her voice is firm now, but there’s a tension behind it, like she’s holding back more than she’s letting on. She keeps her eyes on you, though you’re still looking away, refusing to meet her gaze.

The fear that this would happen had been gnawing at her the entire time. Every time she heard your voice crackle through the earpiece, every second she knew you were out there, not as far from danger as she’d hoped—it all led up to this. She warned you, she didn’t want you there, not because she doubted your abilities but because of this.

And now, with the bandages wrapped around your abdomen, the sting of her words feels as sharp as the wound itself. There’s a tremor in the silence that follows, the heaviness of what she’s not saying. The real reason—the fear that seeing you hurt like this brings something out in her that she’s not sure she can control.

“It was going fine, Natasha,” you told her firmly.

“Yeah, until it didn’t,” Natasha snaps, her voice taut with barely-contained frustration. She’s pacing now, her fists clenched at her sides, the image of you lying there, bleeding, still too fresh in her mind. “It could’ve been worse, (Y/n). You could’ve been…”

She stops herself, the words catching in her throat, her chest tightening painfully at the thought.

The rest of her sentence hangs in the air, unfinished but heavy with the meaning she can’t bring herself to say out loud. Dead. She can’t even imagine it. The very thought of you being taken from her like that is unbearable, and she feels it—this overwhelming surge of something she can’t control. Her hands tremble just slightly as she forces herself to stop pacing, to breathe.

She turns back to you, her eyes softening despite the anger and fear still swirling beneath her skin. But the image of you, bruised and bleeding, is burned into her mind now. It’s not something she can easily shake.

A sigh leaves her lips once more, quieter this time, the tension in her body slowly ebbing away as she moves closer to you. Her hand reaches out almost instinctively, wrapping gently around yours. For a moment, she just stares at your intertwined fingers, tracing the familiar curve of your palm, as if memorizing the way your hand fits so perfectly with hers.

“I can’t…” she begins, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with something raw, “I can’t see you like that… I don’t…”

Her breath catches, and she struggles to find the right words, the vulnerability pressing against her ribs, making her feel exposed in a way she’s not used to.

“I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened to you.”

She says it shyly, almost as if she’s embarrassed by how much she cares, how deeply this fear has lodged itself inside of her. Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching your face as if she’s trying to speak with her eyes the full weight of her feelings without having to say any more. Because Natasha isn’t used to feeling like this—this scared, this helpless—and it unnerves her. The thought of losing you, of not being able to protect you, is something she doesn’t know how to handle.

“Natasha, look at me,” you say softly, your voice gentle but firm.

She doesn’t, at first. Her gaze is still fixed on your hands, her thumb brushing over your skin in slow, distracted circles, as if she’s trying to memorize every detail of your skin.

“Baby,” you whisper again, a little more insistent, “look at me.”

Slowly, reluctantly, her eyes lift. There’s a hint of chaos behind them—worry, fear, and something so deeply rooted it makes your heart ache just to see it. She’s silent, but her eyes are pleading, as if asking you to make sense of the turmoil she’s been carrying since the moment things went wrong on the mission.

“I’m right here,” you tell her, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words land heavily between you. “I’m okay.”

You lift your free hand to her cheek, brushing your thumb along her jawline, trying to soothe away the tension that’s crept into every inch of her.

“I’m safe.”

She exhales shakily, leaning into your touch, her eyes still clouded with uncertainty. But she doesn’t pull away. Instead, her grip on your hand tightens, as if she’s afraid that letting go might somehow make you disappear.

“I can’t lose you,” Natasha whispers, her voice so quiet, it almost disappears into the air between you. Her eyes, usually so strong and composed, glisten, and for a moment, you think she might actually cry. It’s rare to see her like this—so vulnerable, so afraid.

Without hesitation, you squeeze her hand, pulling her closer. “You didn’t,” you say quickly, your voice gentle but firm, trying to anchor her back to reality. “You didn’t lose me.”

She doesn’t respond at first, her gaze flicking between your face and the wound she’s just tended to, as if she’s still grappling with the thought of how close it all came. Her breath is uneven, a quiet tremor of emotion she’s struggling to keep inside.

You reach up and cradle her face in both hands, forcing her to meet your eyes. “Look at me,” you say, your voice soft but commanding. “I’m right here.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just stares at you, her eyes searching yours like she’s still trying to convince herself you’re really there, alive and breathing. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she nods. Her eyes flutter shut, as if closing them will somehow block out all the fear and frustration inside her. She takes your hand, gently lifting it to her lips, and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. Her breath is warm, lingering over your skin, and she doesn’t stop with just one kiss. Another follows, and then another, her lips brushing tenderly across the back of your hand as if the contact itself is a way of reassuring herself that you’re still with her.

Each kiss was slow, filled with the kind of affection that makes your heart ache. You feel the tension in her shoulders start to ease, her breathing evening out. When she finally pulls back, her fingers trace over the spot she’s just kissed, her touch light but lingering. She looks at you again, her expression softer now, as if she’s starting to believe that you’re really okay.

“I’m guessing this means that I can’t go on any more missions with you,” you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

A small, breathy laugh escapes her mouth, though it’s more of a huff, and the corner of her lips quirk up just a little.

“You think?” she mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. The tension from earlier hasn’t fully faded, but the way you joke, the way you try to make light of the situation—she can’t help but let a bit of the weight lift off her chest.

She shakes her head slightly, her thumb absently brushing over the back of your hand, still holding onto you like she can’t quite bring herself to let go yet.

“I should ban you from every mission,” she says, her voice softer now, almost playful, but with that familiar protective edge. “But knowing you…”

She trails off, giving you a knowing look that makes it clear how stubborn she thinks you are. You grin, despite the soreness and the lingering ache in your body.

“You know I’d find a way to convince you,” you say, tilting your head a little.

Natasha’s smile softens into something more tender as she looks at you, her green eyes holding yours.

“Yeah,” she whispers, and there’s a quiet, tired fondness in her voice now. “Yeah, you probably would… But, no more of this.”

You close your eyes for a second, feeling the warmth of her skin, “I’ll try,” you say, voice soft. It’s not quite a promise, but it’s enough for now.

“I can’t take you away from your work. It’s your job… It’s both of ours.” Her voice cuts through the air, firm and unyielding, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m just not letting you out of my sight again.”

There’s a finality in her words that makes you pause, a quiet intensity that speaks to something deeper than her usual protectiveness. Her eyes, still lingering on yours, are resolute, as if she’s already made up her mind. You can see it in the set of her jaw, the tightness in her shoulders—she’s serious. This isn’t just about the mission, or even the injury. It’s about something bigger, something she’s been holding onto for too long.

You know Natasha. You know the layers of her. How she’s always the one in control, always calculated, prepared for anything. But right now, there’s a vulnerability in her that’s hard to ignore. She’s not just saying this to keep you safe; she’s saying it because the thought of losing you is something she can’t bear, something she can’t even let herself entertain for too long without feeling like the ground is slipping out from under her.

You open your mouth to respond, to maybe crack another joke or reassure her that you’re okay, but the words catch in your throat when you see the look on her face. She’s staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, and it makes your heart ache a little, knowing how hard it is for her to let that kind of emotion show.

“I’m serious,” she adds, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. Her hand tightens around yours, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m not losing you.”

There’s a moment of silence, heavy and filled with everything neither of you are saying. You want to protest, to tell her she doesn’t need to worry so much, but you can’t. Because you know—deep down, you know that she’s right. And maybe part of you doesn’t mind the idea of her always being there, watching over you, making sure you’re safe.

But for now, you just squeeze her hand in return, letting the weight of her words settle over you both. It’s not a conversation you need to finish right now. You’re alive, and for Natasha, that’s all that matters.

navigation | n.r masterlist

[gurugirl]

2. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: The night has arrived and things are going really well for all three of you until suddenly they're not.

A/N: This will be 3 parts. Based on this and this.

Word Count: 10k+

Warning: 18+ only, smut, jealousy, angst, hurt feelings, daddy kink

The Unicorn Masterlist

When you left, Harry walked back inside his house feeling like a new man. He felt real. He felt strong and virile. He didn’t know what had come over him being so direct with you. So rapacious. But it felt natural. It was like something about you brought it out of him.

It wasn’t until he was sitting at the table with the boys eating dinner that any little inkling of guilt started to wash over him. It was then he realized he hadn’t even thought about Kit since he started making dinner. He was conjuring up images in his mind of what you would look like on Saturday in various positions. Imagined the way your eyes would widen and then squeeze close when you orgasmed. Wondered how many he could coax out of you. He’d completely blocked out that his wife would be participating.

He would need to tame himself. See how Kit responded to seeing you and him together. If she enjoyed it he could loosen up a little but he was concerned about the way you two clicked. Your dynamic was very good, Harry thought, that he would have a hard time sharing you. Plus, he wasn’t sure whether or not Kit would like to hear you calling him Daddy. And Harry really wanted to hear you call him Daddy again.

When his wife got home the twins were already in bed and Harry was in the master bedroom reading, “So how did it go?” She asked him as she plucked her heels off, placing her palm on their dresser to balance herself.

“It was good. Why don’t you get ready for bed and then we can talk about everything that happened?”

Harry had decided he’d play down what had happened between you two. He’d be honest but he wouldn’t divulge some of his innermost thoughts. The parts where he forgot all about his wife and how your soft and docile demeanor was refreshing and made him feel masculine and wide awake all of a sudden. No. He wouldn’t share that much with her.

Kit turned off the ceiling light and turned on her lamp before climbing into bed with Harry, “So, tell me how it went.”

“Yeah. It was good. She was very open. She said she wanted to join us on Saturday for sure.”

Kit nodded, “And? Did you two kiss or anything?”

Harry’s heart began to lob in his chest at the idea that he was going to tell his wife what he’d done with another woman. Kit seemed fine. She insisted she was but Harry still felt unease about how to handle this situation gracefully. Without anyone getting hurt.

“Yeah, we did. Brought her into the bedroom, here so the kids didn’t see. Kissed her and then got her clothes off, fingered her,” he inhaled softly and felt his cheeks glow and his chest burn. “That was it.”

Kit grinned and slid in close to Harry, smoothing her palm under his shirt, “Yeah? I wish I could have seen it. Did she come?”

Harry puffed out a laugh of disbelief. Maybe he was fretting for nothing. Perhaps his guilt had been needless. Maybe Kit was right. Maybe this would be really good for them.

“Yes.” He looked down at where his wife’s hand was traveling.

“And did you come?”

“No. I kept all my clothes on when I was with her and then when she left I had to get dinner for the boys and I was with them until I finally got into bed a bit ago.”

Kit palmed over his crotch, “You poor man. You did so good for me today, baby.” She kissed his lips, “You deserve a treat.”

Harry sighed as his wife put her hand into his night pants and began to pump his cock slowly. Closing his eyes with a smile he realized he probably had nothing to worry about.

.           .           .

You were a mess. You couldn’t sleep in the way that was necessary to function properly the next day. You kept going from squealing into your pillow like a 16-year-old after your crush admitted to liking you too, to feeling overwhelming anxiety about what was to come. Kit was an unknown in the equation. For many reasons.

The first was that you’d never been intimate with a woman even though you crushed on women for longer than you had men. The second was that you were worried that now that you’d called Harry Daddy and knew how much he liked it, even if Kit didn’t like that it would be hard for you to turn that off. The third thing was that you weren’t sure you’d want to see Harry kissing anyone else or watch him preferring his wife over you, because he would. Because Kit was so much prettier than you and she was his wife, the mother of his children. You were certain that you’d wind up kind of being the third wheel.

But maybe you had it all wrong. Maybe you’d love being with Kit and things would just be fun. But your rabbit hole Google search wound up landing you on a subreddit all about this kind of thing and did not leave you with confidence about what was to come. So many horror stories about “unicorn hunters” finding their “unicorn” and the ways threesomes can end a marriage.

But you said yes. And you intended to follow through. They both really seemed to want it. And you trusted them. Perhaps your experience would be among the rare ones that worked out for the better.

The rest of the week felt like you were slowly entering into a new realm of existence. Dramatic way to put it but that’s just how it felt. Things would change for you. Not only would you be having your first sexual encounter with a woman, but you’d also be having a threesome. You’d be in the middle of a married couple and that was not a situation you thought you’d ever get into.

But also, you were very aware that Harry was planning on fucking you. In front of his wife. And you couldn’t imagine that going well. Of course, you forced your fantasy to make it positive but there was something that was telling you that it wouldn’t be. You hoped you were just nervous for nothing.

On Friday before you left Mr. and Mrs. Styles’ home, William and Warren were told to get their suitcases ready for grandma and grandpa to pick them up the following morning.

Kit helped you put your bag on your shoulder, as she spoke, “We’re really excited about tomorrow. I hope you are too, Y/n.”

You smiled as you turned to look at her, “I am. A little nervous, I’ll admit.”

You were more than a little nervous.

“That’s okay. We are too. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow and go from there.”

Harry walked into the living room with you and Kit and there was just something different about him following that night he had you in his bed. It made you squirmy and intimidated. His eyes had always been intense but now they felt more severe. Daunting.

“So, tomorrow at 3 then?” He asked you as he raised his brows.

You nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

And from the moment you drove away from the Styles’ house until you knocked on their front door the following afternoon, you couldn’t get yourself to calm down or think about anything else.

You paced and talked out loud to yourself. You set up scenarios in your head and acted them all out, some of them turning you on quite a lot, you couldn’t lie. You practiced how you’d respond in certain situations. You took a long bath with salts and essential oils and got rid of as much hair as possible from your body so you’d be extra smooth.

You played your music loudly. You masturbated thinking about the way Harry fingered you. You picked the perfect outfit and panties. And you tried to sleep. But that was nearly impossible.

When you did finally wake up it was already noon. You’d slept in. Which shouldn’t have surprised you because you couldn’t get to sleep the night before. You jolted up from your bed and panicked as you ran into the bathroom to get the shower going. You couldn’t believe it was happening. You wondered what Harry and Kit were doing to prepare. Were they freaking out like you were? They both said they’d never done anything like this so they had to be at least a little nervous about everything.

Your soft pink lace bra and panties were your favorites. You didn’t wear them all the time but it felt like the appropriate affair to break them out.

At about 2 pm you received a text from Kit.

If you’d like, you can stay the night. We would be happy to have you all night.

That, you hadn’t expected. You had envisioned it being along the lines of you and the Styles getting finished up and then using their bathroom before an awkward goodbye and See you Monday (you really had thought of every scenario already).

But to stay the night? Would you sleep in their bed with them? Or would they offer you their guest room? Or the couch? You couldn’t imagine sleeping next to them all night. Of course, maybe that would be nice? You really didn’t know. It was hard to think with a clear brain when Harry was involved. The whole situation was wacky but the opportunity to be allowed to sleep with Harry and his pretty wife and have everything be just fine after (hypothetically) was simply not something you’d want to say no to.

.           .           .

Harry was nervous. He was trying to reign in his thoughts and his doubts. He didn’t want Kit to know how deep his worries ran. Because she seemed excited. She seemed far calmer than he felt.

He forced himself to eat breakfast and a light lunch so she didn’t question it. He didn’t know how things would play out once you arrived. And he tried not to imagine all the salacious things he’d been thinking about you in his private time.

When you’d finally arrived with your bag in hand and knots in your tummy Harry took deep breaths as Kit answered the door and hugged you in greeting.

“I hope you’re hungry! I’m making salmon and parmesan risotto.It’s my specialty and I think you’ll like it.” Kit led you to the kitchen where her husband stood and the moment he laid his eyes on you the smallest something ignited in him. It was only a spec of something but it was as if a layer of worry was wiped away instantly. Just seeing your pretty smile with your bag in hand had his mind swirling with thoughts of what might come. He realized part of him didn’t think you’d actually show up. But you did.

He tried leaning on Kit’s poise and mimicking her excited demeanor. On the way she seemed so calm but confident. That’s how it should have been for him. But the bigger parts of worry in him stemmed from the fact that his more dominant natural inclination was starting to peek through the cracks slowly. He’d even initiated something with Kit the night before, which she quickly shot down. He knew his wife was not one for being submissive. Or at least letting him take the reigns fully. But he knew Y/n would want it.

And worse yet, he hadn’t asked Kit if she’d mind if you called him Daddy. That was weighing heavy on him. He knew he should have talked to her about it days prior but there was part of him that worried she wouldn’t like that. He wasn’t sure how it would be brought up at that point but it would come out sooner or later he was positive. Especially with the way you seemed to love saying it.

“This looks so good, thank you, Mrs. Styles,” you smiled softly and looked from Harry to Kit and then back to the steaming pot ofrisotto. You weren’t sure you’d be able to eat much but you’d force something down. Your mind was jumbled and you felt tense.

But of course, this was something new for all of you. You’d all be going through this together and so you probably didn’t have much to worry about.

Harry took your little bag from your hand and his bright green eyes on you felt hot, “I’ll take this upstairs unless you need anything from it right now?”

You shook your head, “I don’t need it. Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

You had wanted to ask Harry what his wife thought about the whole Daddy thing but you hadn’t had the chance the rest of the week and even if you had you wouldn’t have been able to get the nerve up to ask.

“So, what are you thinking? What things are you into?” Kit asked as she handed you a glass of wine.

You leaned your hip into the counter and shrugged, “I don’t know. I think I like it when other people take the lead. I’m sort of, maybe a little submissive,” you laughed softly as you brought your glass up to your lips and looked at Kit. It was the first time you’d really taken her in since you’d arrived. She was wearing a pretty black lacey dress that fit her gorgeous body like it was made for her. Black heels, a smoothed back, high ponytail. Bright red lips, perfectly done eyeliner. Her cheekbones made you envious. You’d always noticed her cheekbones in the past. As well as Harry’s. Imagined they were made for one another. Two exquisitely stunning people.

Kit leaned against the counter next to you, her body turned toward yours, “That’s perfect for Harry and me. We’re both a bit dominant,” she sipped her glass and you watched her eyes trail down over your neck. You’d put on a pretty choker. Light pink small pearls to go with your sexy (you hoped) pink lacey underwear. Over it, you wore a lightweight cream sweater that was almost sheer with a short white skirt with a print of pink and yellow butterflies all over it. You felt underdressed compared to Kit. She looked like an adult and you looked like a child.

When Harry returned to the kitchen he poured himself a glass and looked at you and then to his wife, “What’d I miss?”

“Just asked Y/n what she likes. She’s going to let us take the lead. And look at his, H,” she gently put a slender finger under your pearl choker, “she’s perfect. I told you.”

Harry’s gaze felt so heavy on you. It felt like he was dissecting you with his eyes, “I think we’ll have a lot of fun together.”

A safe choice of words.

Dinner was quite delicious. Though you weren’t really that hungry, the wine you drank helped you feel a bit more comfortable, and sitting and chatting about normal things with Kit and Harry felt really good.

You helped clean up. Harry had put on some music and you were feeling loose from the wine so you were swaying the tiniest bit with the beat. When you felt hands at your hips you turned and it was Kit, swaying with you. She leaned her chin over your shoulder and spoke into your ear, “Leave the dishes. Those can wait. I think it’s time to get comfortable and talk. Come,” she pulled at you and you suddenly weren’t feeling as loose at the notion of talking.

Ground rules. Expectations. It was all necessary stuff.

You followed her into the living room where Harry was already sitting on the couch at one side. He gestured for you to sit next to him and Kit sat down on the opposite side, putting you in the middle.

The music was still playing as Kit turned toward you and put her arm up on the back of the couch, “Tell us your concerns. What things you absolutely do not like.”

You looked down at the coffee table where all three glasses of wine were sat and took a deep breath, “My concerns… I’m worried someone won’t like this after we start. Like,” you looked at Kit, “maybe you realize you don’t want anyone touching Harry. Or even if Harry doesn’t like to see you with anyone else? I just don’t want anyone to feel upset.”

Kit nodded, “A good point. I feel the same. I think we all do. We won’t know until we get into it but I think if there is anything anyone doesn’t like we need to be able to speak up about it. Agreed?”

You nodded, unsure if they wanted you to continue. That was the biggest concern of yours, sort of. You were worried about calling Harry Daddy when things got going. You were worried you would feel left out, which wasn’t fair of you to feel that way. Kit and Harry were married, after all. They’d certainly be paying the most attention to each other.

“Anything else? What things do you not like at all? What is a hard no for you?”

Harry had been quite silent since you all had sat down. But you were feeling heat pouring off of him. And you could tell he had his eyes on you.

“I mean… maybe if I think of some I’ll tell you? I haven’t done much, to be honest. Nothing stands out in my mind.”

“Do you like to be spanked? Or maybe restrained?” Kit raised her brows at you.

You shrugged, “I haven’t really been spanked before. Definitely not restrained.”

“You haven’t really been spanked?” Harry finally spoke up.

You turned to look at him but found you needed to look away quickly. He was too attractive.

“Well, once a guy sort of smacked at my bottom during… Like I was on top and…” you swallowed trying to calm yourself as you saw his hand move from his lap to the space between your thigh and his on the couch, “Like it was just really quick. Just once. So I wouldn’t say spanked but… yeah.”

“And did you like it?” He asked.

You looked at him and couldn’t help but feel yourself singe with warmth, “I didn’t mind it.”

“We’ll learn as we go,” Kit added.

Harry pulled his gaze away from you to his wife when she spoke and it was the first time you noticed it. His unease. It almost seemed like he’d forced himself to look away from you. Like the way you felt when you looked at him.

Kit reiterated that she agreed with you. That there would need to be open communication. She said that she liked to be dominant or at least to have most of the control.

“And I also like to be in control. To be dominant.” Harry said as he looked at Kit and then to you, “I also wanted to see if it was comfortable for you, Kit, if Y/n calls me Daddy.”

Kit looked to the coffee table quietly in thought and then looked at you, “Do you like that? To call your sexual partner Daddy?”

Your eyes widened at the question. You hadn’t expected that you’d answer this question. But you also assumed Harry had already spoken to Kit about it.

“Uh, well. Yeah, I think so.”

“Have you ever called anyone Daddy during a sexual encounter before? Are you comfortable with that?” Kit pressed.

You shot your sight to Harry and then back to Kit. How did you answer this? He obviously hadn’t told his wife that you were calling him Daddy that night and now you didn’t know if you should reveal that you already had. And Harry had been the only one you’d ever given that moniker to.

“I mean I’d like her to, but if she’s not comfortable with it we don’t have to do it, Y/n.” Harry quickly interrupted. You knew he was doing a bit of damage control. Perhaps that little thing would just be a secret between you and Harry. You were okay with that, you figured. You didn’t want him getting into trouble with Kit.

“Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t mind. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

“Okay. Good. I’m okay with it, I think. We’ll feel it out and see if we like it,” Kit said, seemingly unbothered.

With the music playing you felt Harry’s pinky graze your bare thigh and Kit leaned forward to grab your glass of wine and hers, handing you yours.

“You smell so good, Y/n,” she said to you with a dreamy look on her face. “Doesn’t she, Harry?”

Sipping your wine you heard his deep voice from your right as he spoke, “She smells delicious.”

The change of the song and Harry’s pinky ghosting at your thigh and Kit’s closeness with her eyes on you had you feeling excited. Your heart began to lob in your chest, faster and faster.

Kit ran her finger up your neck, “You’re so shy. I really love it. Y/n, we’re going to make sure you have fun tonight.”

She got onto her knees and reached across you to pull at Harry’s hand and drew him in for a kiss. You watched them as they wound their mouths together right in front of you. You were smushed back into the couch with your eyes on their lips and watched their tongues meld and lick and heard Kit moaning.

When they parted Harry grabbed your empty glass of wine and placed it on the coffee table before he cradled the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. He wanted to feel your silky lips on his and he wanted to make sure you were included in the fun too. He would see to it you weren’t left out.

Kit watched her husband kissing you, their nanny with amazement. It was the first time she’d ever gotten to enjoy this sort of thing and she already loved it.

You felt Harry’s warm and wet mouth pull away from yours as Kit took over and pressed her lips to yours. The way it felt to have her mouth on yours versus Harry’s was night and day. Kit was soft and unmistakably feminine and you moaned as you reached up to pull your arms over her shoulders. With your body turned toward Kit you felt Harry’s big palm slide up your thigh and lift your skirt just a little before his chest was pressed into your back and his lips were on your neck.

“Can I mark your neck, sweet girl,” Harry groaned into your sensitive skin as Kit’s mouth moved with yours flawlessly.

“Yes, Daddy…” you breathed out the words and hadn’t even realized you said Daddy until the name hung in the air immediately after you’d said it. But no one seemed bothered. Kit only became more fervent and you felt her hand slip under your soft sweater.

“Can I touch you? Will you give us permission to touch your body and play with you now?” Kit panted her words before dotting kisses on your cheeks.

“Oh god. Yes, you can. Anything you want.” You meant it. If they wanted to touch your naked body or see it or tear your clothes off you were already so far gone you just wanted to please them. Everything was green for you so far.

You hissed softly and felt the pinch and sting of Harry’s lips at your neck as he marked you like he wanted.

Kit’s hand slid up your tummy to your pretty bra and she squeezed your plushy tit under her palm, “Just say if you don’t want something. Fuck you have such nice breasts, Y/n…” she leaned back and lifted your sweater before dipping down to kiss over the sheer lacy fabric over your nipples and you gasped.

Harry put his hand on your neck and turned your face toward him roughly, smearing his mouth against yours with a deep moan. You opened your mouth to let his tongue inside and you felt a drizzle of arousal pool into your panties. You loved the way it felt to have his big palm on your neck and his mouth ravaging yours while Kit’s lips and tongue worked over the flimsy fabric of your bra, wetting it and making your nipples hard underneath.

He could feel your delicate pearls under his palm as he used his thumb to squeeze you gently. But when he heard your tiny whimper his cock throbbed in his pants and he pulled at you, “We need to get her upstairs in bed.”

Kit grinned and the three of you awkwardly made your way upstairs. The moment you were in their bedroom Kit had her hands at your skirt, pulling at it, “Want this off of you. Okay? He’s had the chance to see your body but I haven’t yet. I’m dying to see you.”

Harry unbuttoned his shirt as he watched his wife remove your skirt and then peel off your little sweater. He walked up behind Kit and pulled at the bottom hem of her dress to pull it off, “Need you out of this too, Kitty.”

You’d never heard him call his wife Kitty before but it made sense now that you’d heard it.

The moment you saw Kit in her tiny black thong and her amazing tits out (she was sans bra) you dropped your mouth open. Her body was insane. She had a tattoo of a flowering tree on her ribcage and another at her hip with shooting stars. It fit her perfectly.

Harry put his hands on her shoulder as he stood behind her and kissed her neck, his eyes on yours.

“My tits need some love, Y/n. Come here,” she reached for you and it was easy to enjoy the way it felt to have a soft breast in your mouth. You sucked at her nipples and lapped your tongue over her skin with your hands cupping both sides, smushing your fingers in to really feel how soft and lovely it was. You couldn’t believe you’d never done anything with a girl before. You were certainly glad Harry and Kit were so forward.

Harry moved his position from behind his wife to behind you. You hadn’t expected to feel his hands at your bum, squeezing and pulling at your cheeks before giving you a soft smack.

You jolted slightly and looked up at Kit with a laugh.

Harry pressed his hips into your bottom against your pink lacy panties and groaned, “Beautiful ass.”

Kit grasped your jaw and pulled you in for another kiss. Soft and tranquil, wet and warm. There was an easy difference in the way a woman kissed than a man and you adored it.

You felt Harry’s hand at your bottom, pulling at your panties to slide into your crack to give him access to your full bottom. The sudden warmth and wetness against your bum cheek might have startled you more if he hadn’t given you a swat just moments prior. His mouth and tongue moved over your flesh slowly until he pasted a wet kiss right over where your panties were stuffed into your bottom.

He gripped your hips and pushed his face in further, soft lips kissing along where your panties were, “Gotta get these off, okay, Y/n? As pretty as they are,” he put his fingers into the band of your lacy panties and pulled them down your ass and legs and you continued kissing Kit with a wet, desperate tongue.

But you gasped and your eyes bounced open when Harry's mouth found your pussy from behind. He pulled your cheeks and put his mouth between them, licking over your labia. You couldn’t help but to turn to look behind you as best you could to watch his dark curls from behind you.

Kit’s hands slid to the back of your bra and unhooked your clasp to get you out of your bra, “Oh shit.” She took you in and delicately moved her hands over your tits, “Gorgeous.”

Harry stood up and pulled his shirt off his shoulders and then began to take his pants down and underwear. He was too hard in his pants to keep them on. He watched as Kit pulled you to the bed. Now that you were completely naked Kit wanted to see you spread out.

You were pushed to your back and she climbed between your legs, “Can I eat you out a little, Y/n? Missed eating pussy.”

You nodded quickly as Kit smirked at you and gave you one more soft kiss to your lips.

You saw Harry come up behind her and look down at you as his wife bent over to press her lips to your cunt. He looked from Kit’s ass to your face and pulled at her g-string to move it to the side as he pressed his fingers into Kit’s entrance, “So wet already, Kitty. You don’t get wet f’me like this.”

Harry’s strong and broad shoulders, the view of his dark tattoos scattered on his chest and arms made you wish Kit wasn’t in your way so you could see him unobstructed.

Kit moaned and lapped at your clit as she looked up at you, “I just love how she feels, H. I’m so horny looking at her body.”

Harry could agree with that assessment. He was already throbbing and he hadn’t even had his cock touched yet. Not that his wife couldn’t get him worked up but having you in the mix was exciting. New.

He fucked into his wife with his thick fingers from behind her slowly and loved the way you sounded when you moaned. He reached down to grip his cock and stroke himself as he looked at your pretty face. Moving his fingers from Kit’s pussy he slid his tip up and down her crease and she lifted and looked back at him, “Yes, H… fill me with that big dick.”

“Yeah? Want this big cock, baby?” He looked at you as he asked.

You moaned when Kit wrapped her lips around your clit again and you felt her fingers thrust into your soft, wet hole.   

Harry felt good plunging into Kit as always. She was familiar and welcoming. He knew exactly what to expect and exactly what she needed to get off. But this time, as familiar as Kit felt, it was so different as he thrust in and pulled back to his tip with his eyes on yours.

He began to rock into his wife and each thud into her pushed Kit into your pussy harder. Kit was bent down with her mouth on your cunt, her ass in the air at the edge of the bed while Harry stood, feet on the floor, and fucked his wife from behind. But he had a great view of your face and your tits. It almost felt like he was already fucking you with the way your eyes were locked on his.

The delicious surge of Kit’s fingers digging into your pussy and her tongue on your bud had you spinning. But it was Harry’s eyes on yours as he grunted with each roll of his hips that had you nearly at your end already.

Kit lifted and looked at you. When you felt her lips move away you quickly shot your gaze back to hers. She continued fingering you, “You gonna come for me, Y/n? Fuck!” She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed herself back onto Harry as she used her free hand to rub her clit, “God, right there, H.”

When Harry began to go in sharper, Kit placed her mouth back on your pussy and moaned at the way her husband was pounding into her. His deep thrusts were making her press into you.

He grasped Kit’s hips harshly and moaned at the view of his cock stretching his wife out and then looked back at you with your lips parted and your hands squeezing your tits together. Your neck elongated.

The sharp spike of stimulation made you cry out and you couldn’t stop the spiral in your tummy from tensing and twisting as you came. Soft wet lips on your clit and slender fingers pumping through your walls felt amazing. But when you heard Harry groan loudly as he began to come inside of Kit you opened your eyes to find his fixed on yours, mouth dropped open with deep breaths heaving from his picturesque chest.

You felt the final deep thrust as the last of his come drained from his cock into his wife as her mouth smashed into you.

You were both breathless as you came down from your orgasms. The eye contact felt intimate. You loved the way it made you feel connected to Harry and to his wife.

Harry grinned and watched as he slowly slid his cock out of Kit, pinching his fingers into her hips, “Y/n, would you like to eat my come from my wife’s pussy? How does that sound to you, sweet girl?”

You nodded and Kit lifted her face from your pussy slowly. Her own chest was heaving as she was so close to her orgasm, “I love that idea. Want to taste Harry dripping out of me, Y/n?”

You pushed yourself up by your elbows, “Yeah, how should I…?”

Kit crawled over you and pushed you down. She brought her cunt to right over your face and let a bit of Harry’s come trickle out onto your chin and your lips, “We’ll do it like this. Now eat.”

With that, she settled her pussy down onto your mouth and you closed your eyes as you sucked and tried to use your tongue the best you could. You tasted the saltiness of his come and the sharpness of Kit’s arousal mixed as you swallowed and pulled at her folds with your lips. The idea that you were getting to drink Harry’s come made you shiver in delight. You never imagined that you’d be swallowing his come down your throat.

When you felt a big, hot mouth dot kisses along the inside of your thigh and felt the grip of a big hand lifting your leg you were spurred on to lick and suck at Kit harder. You were reminded that there were three people in the room.

You felt Harry’s shoulders push against the back of your thighs and felt a deep vibration of something he mumbled against your pussy before his wide flat tongue licked upward before gently rolling your clit in his mouth, his slick muscle pressing and swirling over it.

The sensation of Harry eating you out in comparison to how Kit did it was night and day. Kit was warm and soft, precise. Harry was like a caveman starved, masculine, and messy. You could already feel the way he was smearing your arousal all around your pussylips and the crease of your thigh.

Kit began to rub at her clit as she brushed her pussy over your lips. Her essence was getting all over your face and you really kind of liked the taste. It wasn’t that different from yours, the smell and taste of it.

“Oh my god, baby, those lips,” she moaned and pinched at her nipples as she began to come.

You could feel her shaking and the way her pussy hole fluttered over your mouth, her hips jerking as she rode into your lips and bumped into your nose.

Meanwhile, Harry was moaning into your pussy and lapping at you like ice cream melting. When you felt the addition of his fingers gently poking past your slippery muscle you let out a muffled groan into Kit’s pussy.

Harry lifted your hips up further and dug in deeper. With the new angle, it felt different and you were unable to gain any leverage with your legs at all. You were totally at his mercy with any movement below the waist.

Kit lifted off and sighed, “Such a good girl, Y/n. How was that?”

You gasped and tried your best to respond while your pussy was getting wrecked with Harry’s mouth and fingers, “I like… really liked it!”

Kit softly ran a finger up your neck and to your cheekbone, “Yeah? For a first time that was good. I think we’ll need more practice but that can be arranged. Can’t it, H?”

Harry grunted and smeared his mouth against your clit. You couldn’t hear it if he responded or not but then when Kit moved away you watched as she grasped Harry’s hair and pulled him off your pussy, “Right, Harry?”

He looked dazed as he darted his eyes from his wife to you, “What?”

“Is her pussy that good that you couldn’t hear me?” Kit laughed.

You saw Harry gulp as he stood up and it was the first time you noticed the big tiger tattoo on his left thigh and the laurels on his hips. He was a piece of art, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said we could arrange to do this again,” Kit sat back onto her haunches as she looked at her husband.

“Yeah. If Y/n wants.”

Kit looked at you and back to Harry, “So what do we think? Need a break? Are we ready to relax? We’ve all had our orgasms.”

Inwardly you pouted and wanted to throw a fit. You had come but you really really wanted to suck Harry off and have him fuck you. You wouldn’t mind eating Kit out again, but you felt you weren’t done with Harry. Needed a little more.

Harry laughed, “Ready to relax? Kitty, I’m just getting started. I kind of hoped I’d be able to have you choking on my cock or something,” his cocky grin beamed at his wife.

“Choke on your cock? Maybe I’ll let you choke on my dildo. You know I don’t do that. If Y/n wants to she’s welcome to it.”

You sat up and looked from Harry to his wife as they discussed what would come next. Harry looked you up and down like you were going to be an indulgent meal, “Want my dick in your mouth, sweet girl?” Harry gripped his shaft and slowly slid his hand up and down. He was only half-hard. He needed a minute to get back to full mast after his orgasm.

“Yes. I would really like that, Harry.” You looked from Harry to Kit to make sure everyone was on board.

“I think you mean Daddy. Right?” Harry’s stern voice had you sitting up straight.

“Yes, Daddy. I want it.”

Kit softly moaned, “She’s such a sweet girl, Harry. Enjoy your blowie. Mind if I get some water? I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Harry kept his eyes on you, “Go on. We’ll be fine. Right, Y/n?”

You nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

Kit paused and looked from you to her husband but then shook off the tiny alarm going off in her head before leaving you two alone.

“Get down here. On your knees. I’ll take it easy on you.”

You climbed off the bed and got to your knees. Harry pumped his dick right over your face and reached down with his free hand to grasp your neck to pull at you, making you sit up further, “Your pearls are so sweet. Did you dress up just for, Daddy?”

“I did. Wanted to be cute for you.” You smiled at him with wide eyes.

“Cutest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/n. Now, get it all wet. Lick all around. I want to get nice and hard for your throat. And maybe if Kitty doesn’t mind, she’ll let me fuck you. Would you like that?”

Your heart pounded as you looked up at Harry and nodded, “Yes, Daddy. Really want to feel you.”

You began to tongue along Harry's long shaft. From the base where he had trimmed dark hair to his tip. You plopped your lips around his crown and gently sucked, making him hiss before you dragged your tongue down to his base and back up again to wet every inch of his girth. You were amazed at the sounds coming from him. Soft and whimpery. You lowered your mouth to his sack and smoothed your tongue and lips along the skin before opening wide and pulling half into your mouth.

“Fucking angel. Shit, I love that.”

You noted his reaction to your mouth on his balls. To save for another day.

When you drew your tongue upward again, along his length you felt him plump. His cock grew harder and harder until he was rigid and completely ready for fucking again.

“Now suck on it,” he pressed the back of your head to urge you down over him.

You wrapped your lips around his head, saliva pooling at your tongue and dripping down his cock as you slowly began to take him in your mouth. Deeper and deeper. He was thick, though and you were concerned your mouth wasn’t big enough or that your teeth would graze his skin. But you pressed on, doing your very best.

He kept his hand at the back of your head and helped gently guide you down, “Come on. You can get a little more in there, baby. Fucking so good with that mouth.”

You felt his tip nudging at the roof of your mouth and slip in close to your tonsils and you gurgled, swallowing around his tip and making him choke out a loud moan.

You did it again, loving the way he responded and you felt him slip in deeper, yet you still hadn’t gotten him all in. He was likely a bit too long for you to take him all. You’d need practice.

The sound of you gagging wetly and Harry groaning filled the room as your eyes watered.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n!” Harry watched your lips as they parted around his cock, drooling down your chin.

You could hear Kit when she came back. She’d said something but you were so fixated on Harry’s cock and making him feel good that your brain was fuzzy and out of focus. The only thing that mattered was making Harry feel good and you couldn’t care about anything else.

The grip he had on the back of your head and the way his hips were moving felt like he was enjoying you as you wetly spluttered on his cock as it grazed the back of your throat.

When Harry pulled you off you sat back and looked up at him expectantly. Harry kept his eyes on you. He looked like he was proud of you as he spoke, “Kitty? Can I fuck this sweet thing? Want to feel to her around my cock.”

You watched Harry as Kit answered, “Okay. I think that sounds hot. Just use a condom, though. Is that okay with you, Y/n?”

You nodded, still focused on Harry, “Yes.”

Kit led you to the bed to lie on your back and kissed you softly, “I’ll play with you a little and probably kiss Harry too while he’s fucking you. Is that okay?”

You finally looked at Kit, breaking the spell you were under with Harry, “That’s fine. Yeah.” You nodded.

“And if we do this again maybe I can wear a strap-on and fuck you too.” Kit raised her brows.

You nodded and smiled. Harry was busy putting a condom on as he listened to his wife talking to you. He hated to admit it to himself, but he loved it when Kit stepped out of the room for a bit. He felt freer to express himself with her gone. Was less worried about sounding like he was preferring Y/n to her.

But he wondered if once he got his cock inside of you how he’d feel. Would he be able to overcome the way he wanted to just dominate you and claim you for himself? It was a slippery slope what was happening but he was freefalling into his dominant persona with you and it felt odd having his wife watch it all. He hoped he didn’t get too into it and lose track of what was really happening.

Harry crawled onto the bed between your legs and thumbed at your clit as he watched Kit kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. Wanted to start off nicely with a warm kiss and push into you that way. So he waited while his wife groped your tits and licked into your mouth.

You reached down to Harry’s hand, where his thumb was at your bud and you bucked your hips upward. He had the most gorgeous view of your wet pussy, just waiting and ready to stretch open for his cock.

When Kit finally pulled her mouth away Harry leaned over you, “I’m gonna kiss her for a bit, Kit. If you don’t mind,” and then he pasted his mouth against yours and lined his cock up with your entrance.

When you felt him push past your tight muscle you could have cried. He was wide and long and you were so wet and he began to thrust in and slowly, his mouth devouring yours. He went in with long strokes, sinking in until he couldn’t push in any further. His muscles working into you, thighs and bottom and back flexing and indulging.

Harry lifted his face from yours to look down at you, cupping your jaw, “You doing okay?”

Your mouth was wide open as you nodded, “So good, Daddy.”

Harry cooed at you as he began to fuck into you harder, making your tits wobble with the force.

Kit leaned over you and began to kiss you again but you could hardly kiss back with the way your pussy was being pounded into and the sound of Harry’s groans were all you could focus on. He liked your pussy, you could tell. And that had your heart singing and your body buzzing.

He loved how your pussy looked wrapped around his cock, tight and juicy as he pushed in and brought himself back to the tip before ramming into you again. He wanted Kit out of the way so he could see your face but he knew he couldn’t ask her to move. She was going to be part of this.

But when he dipped in especially deep, the puffy head of his cock nudging into your cervix and hitting your g-spot with each stroke you gasped and moaned loudly, making Kit move back.

“Daddy!” You howled as Harry panted and repeated what he’d just done. You squealed and threw your head back. It felt so good. He was pushing into your guts and breathing heavily over you.

Harry was glad he’d already come so he could last a bit longer with you. He wanted to drag it out. Really get to fuck you properly and feel you. It was lush being inside of you and hearing your pretty voice respond to him.

“Like Daddy’s cock, baby?” He spoke between gritted teeth as he pushed your thighs into your chest and leaned over you, nearly folding you in half so Kit couldn’t interrupt again. He was getting hot and dizzy for you. Wanted you all to himself.

“It’s the best! Oh fuck!! I love it. I want it… oooh! Need you so bad, Daddy!” You weren’t really sure what words came from your mouth as he pushed into you at the new angle, but all you knew was that your entire world was Harry. Harry… Harry… Harry… He was on you and in and he liked it. You were making him feel good.

“Need me, baby? Need this cock inside your little pussy?”

Harry’s balls were aching as he nudged into you, his sac pressed into your bum each time he bottomed out.

“Yes…” your voice was shaky and breathy as he railed you into the mattress.

Harry let go of your legs to lean over you and press his mouth against yours once again. Wet and hard, teeth scraping and moans of debauchery.

“Need you too, baby. Needed this fucking pussy. You gonna let Daddy own this pussy, baby?”

“Oh god, yes Daddy! This pussy is yours!” You whined.

Kit was at the edge of the bed watching the spectacle and she was quite turned on by the scene. She gently rubbed her pussy as she watched her husband railing you but the words spoken between you and Harry had her feeling a bit weird. She knew she should call a time out but she wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. You were in throws of passion, she tried to reason.

“Holy shit, Y/n!” Harry moaned as he felt you begin to squeeze around him. His pelvis rubbed into your clit and the little sparkles of your orgasm started to grow and grow with each yummy thrust into your clenching walls. His cock spread you wide and his pelvis smeared into your bud as if his body was made for you. The angle was exquisite. Harry thought so too.

“Coming on Daddy’s cock, Y/n? Fucking creaming all over me baby.” He let his strokes go long and deep and languid as he hovered over you, his arms and back flexing as he rolled into you.

You were stunned and unable to speak for moments on end. Your vision went blank and your ears fuzzed out with a ringing white noise that blocked all sound.

Harry moaned a laugh at how hard you were coming, “Feels good doesn’t it baby? Cock is made for you…” his deep thick voice gave away that he was about to come. Kit recognized it.

“Don’t come inside of her. Even with a condom,” Kit sat up and watched closely as you finally gasped and cried out. For some reason the idea of her husband coming, even if inside a condom, while balls deep in another woman didn’t feel right.

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He wished he would have known before but of course, Kit hadn’t even been sure that was something she didn’t want.

He kept working into you, letting you ride out your orgasm as you moaned and babbled Daddy, yes Daddy over and over again.

When your eyes finally peeled open Harry had slowed his thrusts and he dipped down to kiss you. It was messy and wet. He was on edge, his orgasm so close his balls were vibrating.

He looked down at you and thumbed over your cheek, “Flip over for Daddy. Gonna fuck you from behind and come on your back okay?”

You moaned and nodded as Harry pulled out and watched you lay on your tummy, ass nudged up.

Harry looked at Kit, “Not gonna come inside her. Don’t worry.”

He smoothed his hands over your ass and squeezed, parting your cheeks as he lifted your hips slightly to angle you up for his cock.

Harry pressed back into you, both of you sighing in relief, “Thank you, Daddy…” you mumbled into the comforter.

“Rub your pussy for, Daddy. Want you to feel good, baby.”

You did as he said, reaching your hand down between your body and the mattress as you fingered over your clit and Harry’s loud grunts were timed with each of his strokes into you.

His hips were slapping into your bottom and the tightness of your cunt around him and the view of your pretty anus was like fine art. It was slushy and wet.

You pushed back against him and felt saliva stream out of your mouth onto the bed below.

“Want your come, Daddy,” you quickly slicked your fingers back and forth along your clit as Harry’s masculine moans grew deeper and louder as he neared his end. “Please, Daddy!”

Harry watched his cock disappear into you over and over again, “Want my come, baby? Deep inside your cunt? Want to be stuffed with it?”

You nodded into the mattress, “Yes…” you whined.

“Sounds so fucking good,” Harry cooed as he began to tremble. His arms grew wobbly as his balls tightened. His cock twitched and pulsed and he quickly pulled out, ripping his condom off before spurts of his come started to pump from his dick. He wrapped his fist around himself and milked his shaft, pouring all over your back as he used his free hand to keep your cheeks spread apart. In a daring move, he released the last bit of himself over your ass and pussy as he loudly choked out a moan.

With his chest heaving and your ass swaying back toward him in hopes of him pushing his come inside of you the voice of Kit pulled you from your dreamy haze.

“Get up.” She did not sound as happy as she had been not long before.

Harry removed himself from your body and you pushed yourself up and turned to look at them.

“That’s not what I meant when I said don’t come in her. Coming on her back was okay but then on her pussy like that? You should have asked me first.”

Harry looked at you with his come all over you and back to his wife, “Sorry, Kit. It was all just in the moment. I shouldn’t have come on her like that.”

“I just… I don’t know. We need to talk about this more I think. But not with her here.” She gestured to you.

You were sort of stuck with your ass in the air, unable to move much because of Harry’s come on your back.

“Okay. That’s fine. We’ll talk. Let me clean her up,” Harry pointed at you.

“She can clean herself up. We don’t need to baby her, Harry.”

“Come on, Kit. She deserves to be treated nicely. And it’s on her back. She needs help.”

Kit suddenly walked away and Harry leaned onto the bed to look at you, “Are you okay?” He put his hand on the back of your thigh.

“Yeah. I’m okay. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

Harry looked over his shoulder and back at you, “She’s not mad, sweetheart. This is all new for us so she just needs a minute. I’ll be right back with a towel okay?”

You felt a burning embarrassment slither down your spine at the idea that Kit didn’t like something you’d done. It was exactly that thing you had wanted to avoid. You loved being with Harry and Kit but you knew you let yourself get lost with Harry and you went too far. You’d fucked everything up and now you were surely going to lose your job and Kit would hate you forever.

Harry got back onto the bed with you and gently wiped at your back, “Don’t worry about anything. You did nothing wrong, Y/n. Okay?”

You nodded and kept your eyes cast down over the comforter in shame. Nothing felt good anymore. You were humiliated. And even though Harry said you’d done nothing wrong it didn’t feel that way.

You put your clothes on silently as Harry slid on his pants and Kit returned, “I want her to go home.”

Harry stood quietly as he looked at Kit in her robe. You let your sight flit between Harry and his wife and noticed the way Harry looked like he was fuming. Pissed.

“Absolutely not. We invited her to stay. She didn’t do anything wrong, Kit. What is wrong with you?”

“I want to talk and I don’t think I can do it with her anywhere near me.”

“Why are you talking about her like she’s not standing right here?” He gestured at you.

Kit sighed and looked down, “I don’t feel comfortable, Harry.”

A scoff fell from his lips, “Well geez. Just imagine how she feels.”

Kit looked at Harry with a scrunched brow, “Are her feelings somehow more important than your own wife’s right now?”

Harry shook his head and ran his hands over his face, “I’m not saying that. I’m saying hers are just as important as yours. She’s a human, Kit. Fuck.”

Kit left the room again, stomping as she walked into the hallway.

Harry turned and stepped in front of you, taking your hands in his, “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t know she would act this way. I’ll get the guest room set for you but you can’t drive after all that wine we drank and I’m not letting you take an Uber home alone at this hour.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ve never had any bad experiences with Uber drivers-“

“No fucking way I’m allowing it. You’re staying here and that’s final.”

Harry walked out of the bedroom and you plucked up your bra and panties that were lying on the floor and followed him to the guest room.

But you stopped before you went inside when you heard him and Kit arguing quietly.

“That was too intimate, Harry. Her asking for your come and you saying how good that sounded. Saying your cock is made for her? Fuck.”

“Kit, we were having sex. I can hardly remember what things were said to be honest. I was caught up in the moment.”

“I shouldn’t have let you fuck her.”

“Maybe not, but it’s done. Too late to take it back now. Jesus.”

“I don’t want her here. Now all I can think about is the way you two were just ignoring me and enjoying each other. I was completely left out there at the end.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”

Kit sighed, “Me too. I feel disgusted. You should sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Come on, Kit. Don’t be like this. You know we were all just having fun.”

Kit walked out of the bedroom and stopped when she saw you. The look she gave you told you to keep your mouth closed and move out of her way. It felt like a threat. A warning.

You stood silently in the hallway as Harry made up your bed and you felt tears stream down your face. Kit suddenly walked up to you and handed you your bag roughly before walking back to her bedroom and closing the door behind her.

Harry peeked out of the room and saw you standing with your bag in your arms and tears in your eyes.

His heart dropped as he pulled you into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head as he shushed you, “Don’t let her get to you, baby. Please don’t cry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You gulped and the softness of Harry with his arms around you made you cry harder. You tried to stop your tears but everything had really just made you so overly emotional. You’d gone from ecstasy straight to shame and humiliation.

He rocked you gently back and forth and kissed the top of your head, “I didn’t even get to love on you after. I’m so sorry. I wanted to make it so special for you and it was ruined. Please don’t be upset. I’ll make sure Kit’s okay by the morning, okay sweetheart?” Harry held you out in. his arms and looked at you. He thumbed at the tears under your eye and you blinked up at him.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

Leading you to the bed he pulled the blankets down and patted at the mattress, “I’d help you change into your night clothes but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to do that right now. Are you gonna be okay in here? The bathroom is right there,” he pointed at the ensuite guest bathroom. “Towels are in the closet. I’m gonna go and talk to Kit and see if I can calm her down. Text me if you need anything. Okay?”

You nodded with a pout. You were doing your best to hold your stupid tears in as Harry hugged you again and then stopped at the doorway and turned to smile at you sheepishly before closing the door and leaving you cold and alone and shattered.

Part 3

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[wandaslittlebird]

Still Her Favorite

Mean!Mommy!Wanda x Puppy!G!P!Reader

After a day of misbehaving, Wanda stays home from work to punish her puppy, and her best friend Natasha decides to join.

CW: Puppy stuff (collars, ears, tails, etc.), plugs, mentions of spanking as punishment, cock shame, humiliation, teasing, safe word discussion, ignoring as punishment, illusions of cheating, jealousy, haha Natasha’s dick is bigger than yours

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Once again not the fic I promised but I’m working on it. Listening something washed over me this afternoon.

A/N: I’m going to be honest, I super don’t love this. But perfectionism is a demon that kills my ability to create, and I’d rather publish a bad fic than lose a good one to the demons.

“Now what brings a precious little puppy like this into the office today?” Natasha asked, circling Wanda’s desk to find you at her feet.

“She was being terribly naughty at home alone, yesterday. Sometimes mommy’s long hours in the office have her thinking she can get away with certain things,” Wanda explained, making no move to look at you while she was talking about you. Her ignoring you was your least favorite punishment by far. You could handle the spankings, the teasing, the humiliation, even the denial. But when mommy stopped talking to you or even looking at you, it was sheer agony.

Natasha smirked. She knew when Tony had said her best friend had requested to work from home today because she “had a new puppy that she had to take care of,” she had to come visit Wanda’s home office. And you did not disappoint.

You could’ve almost cried from embarrassment, kneeling in a dog bed at Wanda’s feet in nothing more than a pink collar and your puppy ears. There was a chain leash attached to your collar that Wanda had tucked mindlessly around her wrist. Your neglected cock was desperately hard between your legs, dribbling little bits of precum onto the fluffy fabric underneath you.

Natasha was surprised to find you weren’t wearing a tail, as that was typically one of Wanda’s staples. “No tail today, puppy?” She questioned. Unlike Wanda, she did look at you when she spoke. You wished she wouldn’t. Her green eyes sent shivers down your spine. You wanted Wanda’s attention, not hers. You didn’t answer.

“No tail today,” Wanda sighed, answering for you. She finally looked down at you with a harsh glare. “Do you wanna tell Tasha why you don’t have your tail in today, puppy?” The look she sent you cast your eyes onto the floor. It was bone chilling. When you didn’t answer, she prompted you further. “Where was your tail when I got home yesterday? Was it in your ass, where good girls keep their tails?”

“No,” you admitted shamefully, barely above a whisper.

“No it wasn’t, was it?” She scolded, returning her attention back to her work. You cursed yourself for not being able to keep eye contact. Maybe if she could see the pained look in your eye, she’d cut the punishment short and skip to the cuddles you so desperately needed.

Natasha's eyes lit up in surprise. You were typically so well behaved for Wanda. She couldn’t help but feel a spike of arousal at the thought of Wanda coming home to find you without your tail. Oh how she would’ve loved to watch that punishment. She couldn’t exactly see your ass from how you were sitting, but she was willing to bet it was covered in delicious little welts and bruises.

“You wanna show Tasha the pretty plug you’ve got in today, instead?” Wanda asked, wiggling her heel under your ass and forcing you up. Natasha stood expectantly next to Wanda as she forced you forward onto all four. You whimpered as you caught yourself on your elbows.

Natasha's suspicions were immediately confirmed when she saw your welted ass, clearly spanked raw. She wondered if Wanda had gone as far as using the cane on you last night. Oh how you would’ve cried. She felt herself growing hard at just the thought.

Wanda pressed the point of her shoe into your balls, wiggling her foot to provide friction. “Spread your ass for Tasha so she can see your pretty plug.”

You did as she asked, reaching back with both hands to better reveal the pink plug stuffed inside of you. “Mommy’s Girl” was written across the base in fancy lettering. The maneuver forced you onto your shoulders, face resting against your dog bed.

Natasha reached her hand down to touch you, stopping to look at Wanda, who nodded in approval. She pushed on the base of the plug forcing it further into your ass.

It was the biggest one Wanda had ever had you wear by a pretty wide margin. You’d cried when she put it in this morning, and the cruel sting had barely faded throughout the day. The simple sensation of Natasha’s hand was almost enough to have you in tears again.

“She’s a little sensitive, aren’t you, puppy? You’ve never had anything that big in your little ass before have you?” Wanda explained, moving her foot so the point of her shoe lightly caressed your shaft.

You shook your head into the soft fabric of the dog bed, holding back tears. The sensation of the two women’s hands on you, toying with you cruelly, was terribly overwhelming.

“Mommy’s dirtying her favorite shoes for you puppy,” Wanda smirked sadistically, nearly laughing at how pathetic you looked on the ground in front of her. She could tell the contact, after a morning of neglect, was overwhelming you. “What do you say?”

“Thank you mommy!” You cried, muffled by the plush bed your face was forced in to. “And thank you Natty for playing with my ass!”

Natasha inspected you carefully, running her hands over the raw swell of your ass. She didn’t stop when you winced and whimpered at the harsh contact she made with your sensitive skin. She leaned forward, peeking her head under you to get a better look at your cock.

She was consistently surprised by how small you were, especially in comparison to her. Even as hard as you were, your cock couldn’t have been a full 5 inches long. You weren’t terribly thick either, thinner, even in proportion, than she was. “Poor puppy,” she cooed teasingly. “I bet you can’t even please your mommy with a dick that little, can you?”

You naïvely expect Wanda might chime in on your behalf, but when she just laughed, your face burned red. You wanted her to defend you: tell Natasha that even though it was small, you had the sweetest, prettiest cock in the universe and she loved it. Sure she had to put you in a sleeve sometimes when she fucked you, but you were more than capable of getting her off. She loved your little cock, even if it was small.

But she said nothing of the sort. She simply laughed like Natty had told a silly joke.

You heard the undoing of a belt buckle behind you, and then your head was pulled back up by the leash. “Come here, honey,” Natasha instructed, motioning for you to stand up. “Let’s see how you measure up.”

You looked to Wanda, hoping she would come to your rescue, but she simply raised her eyebrows expectantly. For once, you found you didn’t want to leave your puppy bed.

You clambered to your feet, finding yourself face to face, dick to dick with Natasha Romanov. You blushed fiercely, looking down at the space between you. Where Natasha’s shaft stood proud at 9 inches, yours was a lousy 4 ½. Not to mention hers was twice as thick, ridged with strong veins up to the tip. It wasn’t so much that you were jealous of her, you just wished you hadn’t looked so puny in comparison. Maybe if you were 6 or 7 inches, this wouldn’t be such a humiliating display. Even if you just had a little more girth, her dick wouldn’t make yours look like a child’s in comparison.

Instead you stood there, eyes wide as you stared down at her, simply unable to speak. You wanted to defend yourself in some way, but what was there to defend? Her dick was superior to yours in every way. At least you were largely hairless in comparison. Then again, that just made you look more juvenile.

Natasha laughed at the stunned look on your face. “Wanda, I don’t think your sweet little puppy has ever seen a real cock before.”

Much to your chagrin, Wanda laughed too. “No, Tasha. I think it’s only ever been silicone and the pathetic little thing she’s got between her legs.”

Natasha moved to stand next to Wanda, who looked up at her, amused, from her desk chair. You watched in horror as she dropped your leash and grabbed Natasha shaft, placing a light kiss to the tip. “Don’t be rude, puppy. Tell Tasha what a pretty cock she has.”

“You-you have a very pretty cock Natty,” you stammered.

She smiled back at you condescendingly. “Thank you, puppy.”

“Now go lay down,” Wanda instructed, watching you pad over to your bed. You got back on your knees, helpless to do anything but watch the scene before you unfold.

“You truly do have quite the impressive member here,” Wanda said in faux sincerity. She lazily ten her tongue around Natasha’s tip in between sentences. “Maybe I’ll get a cast of it, for when I start to miss you. I could even get my sweet puppy to wear it as a sleeve, so she can feel what it’s like to have a real cock.”

“The poor puppy,” Natasha teasingly cooed, looking down at Wanda, “can she even get you off with that little thing?”

Wanda smirked, running her tongue up the underside of Natasha’s dick. “I have better luck getting off with a toy up that pretty ass of hers,” she teased. “I don’t even have to touch it most of the time. The little thing goes twitching and spurting all on its own.”

Natasha growled. “God, I’d love to watch her cry on my cock. Poor thing probably wouldn’t make it halfway down before the tears started flowing.”

Wanda chuckled again, continuing to lazily pump her hand against Natasha’s groin. “That will truly be a show. I can find a way to keep her mouth occupied, should she put up too much of a fuss.”

The two women continued talking, laughing at each other’s jokes, seemingly enriched in the conversation. All while Wanda casually played with Natasha’s perfect dick. And, most importantly, they never sparred you so much as a glance.

They talked about you, briefly. But the conversation soon shifted to other topics: work, travel plans, antidotes from the past. They seemed to go on and on in a jovial little conversation you were not invited to be a part of.

You whined and whimpered from your bed, jealousy boiling up inside of you, but you didn’t dare leave your bed. Even in a jealous rage, you knew the rules. You wouldn’t speak and you wouldn’t leave your bed until Wanda told you to.

You tried to remind yourself Wanda was just playing. You’d talked about this several times before. Natasha was by no means a new and unexpected addition to your sex life. But something about the way Wanda was genuinely smiling up at Natasha, her perfect dick in Wanda’s nicely manicured hand, made it feel like more than playing. You found yourself crying, tears falling down your cheeks as you tried to get their attention.

You were practically jumping around your bed, seconds away from running up and pushing Natasha away, when she finally said “Tony will be expecting me back. I told him I’d only be gone an hour or so.”

“Okay,” Wanda sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If I can get the little one to behave. Love ya.”

Natasha zipped up her pants, shoving her hard on back down in her underwear. “Love ya. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then, with all the audacity in the world, she bent down and gave Wanda a little peck on the lips.

When Natasha finally left the room, Wanda finally tapped her lap and whistled for you to come. You ran to her, nearly sending her rolling chair across the room with the impact. She caught you in her arms, gently petting the back of your head. “Shhh puppy, mommy’s got you. You’re okay.”

You whined pathetically in her lap, pawing at her shirt and leaning back to look her in the eyes. “You were just playing with Natty, right? You don’t really like her cock better, do you? Mine is still your favorite, right? Even though it’s little and maybe not so… pleasurable as hers, it’s still your favorite? Please tell me it’s still your favorite.”

Wanda giggled, calmly coddling you into her while you cried. “Of course your cock is still my favorite, baby. I was just playing with Tasha, puppy. Remember what I told you? I don’t like playing with her like I play with you. You're my special little puppy and no one is ever going to change that.”

“And-and you didn’t like kissing her either because I’m your favorite person to kiss and you were just playing when you did that,” you rambled.

Wanda eyebrows lifted in surprise. She straight up made out with Natasha in front of before for your enjoyment. She was surprised the little kiss set you off so bad. “Of course, love,” she said, pulling you into a kiss. “You’re my absolutely favorite person to kiss.”

“You promise?” You pleaded “Even though she’s bigger, and… and her cock is perfect. And she’s prettier than I am…”

You were interrupted by Wanda grabbing your face. “Hey,” she said firmly, “you’re talking about my special puppy right now and we’re not gonna use words like that, okay? Sweetheart, if it was really bothering you to watch me and Tasha like that, I need you to use your safe word, okay? I’m only playing, honey. And I can only do that if I know that you’re okay.”

You nodded. “I-I like watching you play with Natty, but you were pretending like I didn’t exist and I got a little scared that you forgot…” you explained. “You weren’t even holding my leash. You just… left it on the ground!”

“Oh sweet girl,” she soothed, “of course mommy didn’t forget about you, baby. We were putting on a little show special for you, sweetheart.”

“I know, I know,” you cried. “I was trying really hard to remember. But you were just so happy with her, and-and… I thought maybe you liked her better than me!”

“Would you have felt better sitting in mommy’s lap?” She asked, trying to problem solve this venture for the future.

You nodded. Everything is better when you can hold onto mommy.

She chuckled. “Okay, baby. How about this: next time you need my lap you just give my clothes a little tug. You won’t get in trouble for leaving your bed. If you start to feel any bad feelings, you can feel free to crawl up in my lap. Or, can you remind me of our word we use we use when we have to take a little pause and talk about something?”

“Y-yellow,” you responded.

“That’s right!” She praised. “You’re such a smart puppy. Can you promise you’ll use that next time we’re playing and you start to not feel so good?”

You nodded. “Yes mommy, I promise.”

“Good girl,” she cooed. “Remember that even during your punishments, you have the right to interrupt if something doesn’t feel right, okay. Not everything is supposed to feel good, but it’s never supposed to be too much.”

You nodded against her, wrapping your arms around her possessively.

She let you sit like that for a minute, cooing over how much she loved you, before tucking your head into her neck and wheeling back to her desk. She carefully moved her laptop away from the center of the desk, lifting you up and setting you down in its place. You hissed as your sore ass mad e contact with the hard surface. “Now, how about mommy takes a little break from work to show you how much I love this little cock of yours, and then you can sit on my lap and cuddle until I’m done for the day?”

You nodded, leaning back against the desk, bracing yourself as she spread you out in front of her. She nudged your legs apart, sliding herself between them as she took you in. She places gentle kisses up your thighs, ruining her knuckle lightly against your throbbing shaft. “Such a pretty puppy. You’re still so hard for me angel. Have you been waiting on mommy to take care of you all day?”

You nodded, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from whining. Your dick was so beyond hard by this point. It took all of your willpower to stay still on the desk.

She finally took you into her hand, gently massaging the precum from your tip. “Oh angel,” she breathed, licking the thin liquid up as it dripped down your shaft. “This is mommy’s favorite cock, princess. There’s never been a more perfect one in the world.”

“Really?” You squeaked. After an afternoon of neglect, her tongue immediately felt like heaven. You were struggling to keep your head upright, but she wrapped your leash around her hand, forcing you to stay. She looked at you like you were her whole world.

She nodded, slipping the tip of your cock past her lips. You almost immediately jerk at the heavenly sensation, but she was already holding your hips in anticipation. You weren’t known for being a patient puppy. She slid one of your legs up over your shoulders to give her better access.

Her mouth moved rhythmically around your cock, occasionally pulling away to suck on your balls while she stroked you with her hand. She went slow, but not cruelly so. She was taking her time with you because you were important. Because she loved you.

Your hands tightened around the edge of the desk, fingernails digging into the underside of it. “Mommy…” you moaned, straining against the leash.

“Mmm,” she hummed, lip still wrapped around your cock. The good thing about your small size was she could take you in your entirety without much effort. You could feel your tip nearing the back of her throat.

She moved her hands from your balls down to the plug in your ass. She tapped the metal with the tip of her nails, sending vibrations deep inside of you.

You whined. “Mommy it’s gonna hurt….”

“Aww,” she cooed, sloppily kissing down your shaft. “Is it gonna hurt when you cum baby? Is it gonna hurt when your tight little ass clenches around mommy’s big plug?”

You nodded. She pulled on the end of the metal plug, twisting it inside of you. The pain sent shivers up your spine.

“It’s okay, puppy,” she soothed, “Mommy’s right here baby. It’ll only last a little bit and then you’ll get all the cuddles you can ever dream of, okay?”

“O-okay,” you breathed and she sucked sharply on your balls. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, willing yourself not to orgasm too hard.

But Wanda seemed intent on ruining this plan. She masterfully guided her tongue around your tip before she took you down to the hilt, letting it hit the back of her throat. She switched her attention between fondling your balls and playing with the plug in your ass. It wasn’t long before you were ready to cum.

“You're holding back on mommy, aren’t you? I can feel you all swollen in my mouth. And these little balls are very full, puppy. Don’t you wanna cum for mommy? You’ll feel much better after,” she insisted.

Your bottom lip quivered. “I’m scared, mommy.”

She smirked. She’d never seen you so dedicated to not having an orgasm. Either way, your resistance was futile. She continued to toy with the plug while she skillfully sucked you off. She tightened her hold on the leash.

It wasn’t even a full minute before you were begging. “Mommy. Mommy please. Please mommy I’m gonna cum. Please mommy,” you pleaded.

With one final stroke, you came, spilling down her throat. She was sure to swallow every drop, treating it as if it were a holy thing she’d be loathe to waste.

The pain overshadowed the pleasure almost immediately. Your ass tightened frantically around the plug, futilely attempting to push it out. It hurt worse now than it had going in. You cried out, reaching out to grab any part of her you could.

“Shshshhhh,” she soothed, holding her hand in one of hers while the other stroked your forehead. “You did so good for me, puppy. You’re such a good girl. It’s over now honey. You can have all the cuddles baby.”

She slid back down your body, methodically kissing her way back down your stomach to your now soft dick. She took it into her hands, all shrunken and small, and placed a little kiss to the head. She nuzzled it with her nose. “Mommy’s perfect puppy and her perfect little cock. The softest and the prettiest in the whole entire world.”

“It’s all yours,” you assured, breathlessly. “Nobody else in the world gets to touch it.” You paused before giggling a little bit. “Except for maybe Natty sometimes. But only if mommy says it’s okay.”

She giggled. “That’s right, princess. You’re a smart little puppy.”

You nodded, letting her lift you off the desk and back into her lap. She grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and tossed it over your shoulders, using it to swaddle you into her chest.

You sat astride her lap, arms crossed over your own chest as you nestled into hers. She placed a kiss on your head, rubbing the back of your hair with her thumb.

“Get some rest now, puppy. Mommy’s got work to do.”

[bratzkoo]

barely yours | mingyu pt. 2

Author: bratzkoo | navi Pairing: rockstar! mingyu x reader Word Count: 5.4k Genre: fluff, angst, smut-ish Rating: NC-17 (PG-13 for this chapter only) Possible Warnings: mingyu is an idiot, AGAIN. written in third person.

Summary: you flirt, you fuck, but when you hint that you want to be more he dismissed it as if you’re joking… and when you decide to ignore him he comes back with flowers at your doorstep.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): ​ @ca-clover, @junniesoleilkth , @gaslysainz , @darkerrdaze , @mansaaay , @childish-fear , @whoa-jo , @movingalongfrs

find other parts here! pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Y/N felt her carefully constructed facade begin to crumble as she looked into Seungcheol's eyes. The lead vocalist and leader of HHT stood before her, his usually melodic voice now tight with concern and something that sounded like barely contained frustration.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and urgent. "We need to talk about Mingyu."

She glanced around the hallway, acutely aware of the curious glances from passing employees. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of her father's company.

"Not here," she hissed, grabbing Seungcheol's arm and pulling him towards an empty conference room. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, as if she could physically block out the complications that were piling up around her.

"What's going on?" Seungcheol demanded as soon as they were alone. "Mingyu showed up at our dorm this morning looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He's refusing to talk to anyone, and we have that radio interview in a few hours."

Y/N closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. She'd been so focused on protecting herself that she hadn't considered how her decision might affect the band. "I... we ended things," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol's eyebrows shot up. "Ended things? I didn't realize there were 'things' to end. I thought you two were just..."

"Fooling around?" Y/N supplied bitterly. "Yeah, well, it turns out feelings don't always follow the rules we set for them."

Understanding dawned on Seungcheol's face, followed quickly by sympathy. "You fell for him."

It wasn't a question, but Y/N nodded anyway. "I did. And when I tried to talk to him about it, he made it clear that he didn't want anything more. So I ended it."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he shared with Mingyu when he was stressed. "Shit, Y/N. This is... complicated."

"You think I don't know that?" Y/N snapped, then immediately regretted her tone. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. And now my father wants me to take a more active role in managing you guys, and I-"

"Wait, what?" Seungcheol interrupted. "You're going to be our manager?"

Y/N shook her head. "Not exactly. He wants me to be more involved in the management side of things. Apparently, I 'understand your demographic' better than the older executives."

Seungcheol let out a low whistle. "Talk about adding fuel to the fire. How are you going to manage that with... everything else going on?"

"I have no idea," Y/N admitted, slumping into one of the conference room chairs. "I never wanted this, Cheol. Any of it. I was happy being the party girl, the CEO's wild child. It was easier."

Seungcheol took the seat next to her, his expression softening. "Maybe it was easier, but was it really what you wanted? Because the Y/N I know is smart, talented, and more than capable of handling whatever comes her way."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. It had been a long time since someone had seen her as more than just a pretty face or a potential scandal. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Seungcheol reached out, taking her hand in his. "It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone in this, Y/N. The band... we care about you. Both you and Mingyu."

At the mention of Mingyu's name, Y/N felt her heart clench. "How is he, really?"

Seungcheol sighed. "He's hurting. I've never seen him like this before. Whatever was between you two... I don't think it was as casual for him as he let on."

Y/N's head snapped up, hope and confusion warring in her chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Seungcheol said carefully, "that maybe you two need to have an actual conversation. One where you both be honest about your feelings."

"I tried that," Y/N protested. "He laughed it off."

"And you immediately ended things instead of pushing the issue," Seungcheol pointed out gently. "Look, I'm not taking sides here. You're both my friends. But I think there's more to this story than either of you are seeing right now."

Y/N wanted to argue, to defend her decision. But a small part of her wondered if Seungcheol might be right. Had she been too hasty? Too afraid of rejection to really hear what Mingyu was saying – or not saying?

Before she could respond, Seungcheol's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and grimaced. "That's our manager. I need to go wrangle the guys for this interview." He stood, then hesitated. "Y/N, promise me you'll think about what I said. And maybe... maybe come to our studio session tomorrow? We could use your input on some of the new tracks."

Y/N nodded, not trusting herself to speak. As Seungcheol reached the door, she found her voice. "Cheol? Thank you. For everything."

He flashed her a warm smile. "That's what friends are for. Just... don't let fear make your decisions for you, okay?"

As the door closed behind him, Y/N leaned back in her chair, her mind whirling. She'd thought ending things with Mingyu would simplify her life, but it seemed to have done the exact opposite. Now she had a broken heart, a new job she wasn't sure she wanted, and the possibility that she'd misunderstood everything about her relationship with Mingyu.

Her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see a message from her father:

"Meeting with HHT's team tomorrow at 10 AM. Be there."

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Tomorrow, she would have to face Mingyu, the band, and her new responsibilities all at once. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

As she left the conference room and made her way out of the building, Y/N made a decision. She would go to the studio session tomorrow, as Seungcheol had suggested. She would face her fears head-on.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to have that honest conversation with Mingyu. Because if there was even a chance that he felt the same way...

Well, that was a risk she might just be willing to take.

-

Y/N stood outside the studio door, her hand hovering over the handle. She could hear muffled voices and the faint strains of music from inside. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed down her blazer and steeled herself. Today, she wasn't Hwang Y/N, the party girl with a broken heart. She was Hwang Y/N, the professional, here to do a job.

With that thought firmly in mind, she pushed open the door.

The chatter inside the studio immediately died down as she entered. Five pairs of eyes turned to her, but she only allowed herself to focus on one – Seungcheol's. He gave her a small, encouraging nod.

"Good morning, everyone," Y/N said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I hope you don't mind, but I'll be sitting in on your session today. My father thinks it would be beneficial for me to have a more hands-on role in the creative process."

She deliberately avoided looking at Mingyu, who she could sense was staring at her intently from his position by the guitar rack.

Vernon was the first to break the awkward silence. "Cool, always good to have a fresh pair of ears. We're working on the bridge for the title track. Want to hear what we've got so far?"

Y/N nodded gratefully, taking a seat next to the sound engineer. As the music started playing, she allowed herself to get lost in the melody, analyzing the composition and arrangement. This, at least, was familiar territory. She'd always had a good ear for music, even if she'd never pursued it professionally.

As the song progressed, she found herself nodding along, impressed by the intricate harmonies and the way Seungcheol's powerful vocals blended with the instrumental. But something was off in the bridge – the guitar riff didn't quite mesh with the rest of the arrangement.

When the song ended, Y/N cleared her throat. "That was great, guys. Really solid work. But I think the bridge needs some tweaking. The guitar part feels a bit... disjointed."

She saw Mingyu stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on Seungcheol.

"What do you suggest?" Wonwoo asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "Maybe if we simplified the riff a bit? Something that complements Seungcheol's vocals rather than competing with them."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mingyu spoke for the first time. "And what would you know about composing guitar parts?"

His tone was cold, almost challenging. Y/N finally allowed herself to look at him, keeping her expression neutral despite the way her heart raced at the sight of him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still unfairly handsome.

"I may not be a guitarist," Y/N replied evenly, "but I know what sounds good. And right now, that bridge doesn't flow with the rest of the song."

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue, but Seungcheol cut him off. "She's right, Gyu. I was thinking the same thing, but I couldn't put my finger on why it wasn't working. Let's try simplifying it."

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might argue further. But then he shrugged, turning back to his guitar. "Fine. Let's hear your ideas then, Y/N."

The way he said her name, like it left a bitter taste in his mouth, made Y/N wince internally. But she pushed through, working with the band to refine the bridge. To her surprise, once they got past the initial awkwardness, the creative process flowed smoothly. Even Mingyu, despite his obvious reluctance, contributed valuable ideas.

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself relaxing into her role. She offered suggestions on vocal arrangements, helped fine-tune lyrics, and even hummed out a melody idea that Vernon quickly turned into a catchy hook for their b-side track.

It wasn't until their manager called for a lunch break that the comfortable bubble of creativity burst. As the others filed out of the studio, chatting about where to grab food, Y/N hung back, gathering her notes. She was so focused on avoiding being alone with Mingyu that she didn't notice Seungcheol had stayed behind until he spoke.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Y/N looked up, offering him a small smile. "No, it wasn't. You guys are incredibly talented. It's... it's an honor to work with you like this."

Seungcheol's expression softened. "You're good at this, Y/N. Really good. Have you ever thought about pursuing music production?"

She shook her head. "Not really. It was always just a hobby. Besides, my father has other plans for me."

"Maybe it's time to make your own plans," Seungcheol suggested gently. Then, after a pause, "Mingyu was watching you, you know. When you weren't looking."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to shrug nonchalantly. "We have to work together now. It's bound to be awkward for a while."

Seungcheol looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, the studio door opened and Mingyu walked in, stopping short when he saw them.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Forgot my phone."

The tension in the room was palpable as Mingyu retrieved his phone from beside his guitar. Y/N kept her eyes fixed on her notes, hyper-aware of his every movement.

As he turned to leave, Mingyu paused. "The bridge sounds better now," he said stiffly, not quite looking at Y/N. "Good call."

Before she could respond, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.

Y/N let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "This is going to be harder than I thought," she admitted quietly.

Seungcheol squeezed her shoulder supportively. "Give it time. And maybe... maybe try talking to him? Outside of work?"

Y/N shook her head firmly. "No. It's better this way. Clean break, professional distance. It's the only way this can work."

As they left the studio to join the others for lunch, Y/N repeated those words in her head like a mantra. Professional distance. It was the right thing to do.

So why did it feel so wrong? -

The atmosphere in the practice room was thick with tension, the usual easy banter replaced by an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of instruments being tuned. Seungcheol watched as Mingyu stole yet another glance at Y/N, who was studiously avoiding eye contact as she reviewed some paperwork in the corner. The leader of HHT sighed inwardly, knowing that something had to give.

For weeks now, Seungcheol had noticed the change in dynamics between Mingyu and Y/N. The playful flirtation that had once been a constant source of amusement (and occasional exasperation) for the band had vanished, replaced by awkward silences and stilted interactions. It was more than just personal drama – it was affecting the band's chemistry, and as the leader, Seungcheol knew he had to do something.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," Seungcheol called out, hoping that focusing on the music might alleviate some of the tension.

As they launched into their latest single, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice how Mingyu's usually flawless guitar work seemed off. The tall guitarist kept missing cues, his rhythm slightly out of sync with the rest of the band. Every time this happened, Mingyu's eyes would dart to Y/N, as if seeking her reaction, only to quickly look away when he realized she wasn't even watching.

Y/N, for her part, seemed determined to focus solely on her work. She sat in the corner, ostensibly reviewing marketing reports, but Seungcheol noticed how her pen hadn't moved on the page for the past ten minutes. Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, her gaze would flicker to Mingyu, a mixture of longing and hurt in her eyes.

After an hour of subpar practice, Seungcheol called for a break. As the other members dispersed, grabbing water bottles and checking their phones, he pulled Vernon and Wonwoo aside.

"We need to talk about the Mingyu-Y/N situation," he said in a low voice, guiding them to a quiet corner of the room.

Vernon nodded, relief evident on his face. "Thank god someone said it. The tension is killing me. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells every time they're in the same room."

Wonwoo frowned, his usually calm demeanor showing signs of strain. "It's affecting our performance too. Did you hear Mingyu during that bridge? I've never heard him miss those notes before."

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd picked up when stressed. "I know. That's why we need to do something. I have an idea, but I'm going to need your help."

As Seungcheol outlined his plan, Vernon's eyes widened in disbelief while Wonwoo's narrowed in thought.

"Fake dating?" Vernon whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mingyu wasn't within earshot. "Isn't that a bit… I don't know, dramatic?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But subtle hasn't been working. Those two are too stubborn for their own good. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire."

Wonwoo nodded slowly. "It could work. But are you sure Y/N will agree to it?"

"Leave Y/N to me," Seungcheol said, a determined glint in his eye. "For now, I need you two to help set the stage. Can I count on you?"

Both Vernon and Wonwoo nodded, though Vernon still looked a bit uncertain. As they broke apart, returning to their instruments, none of them noticed Mingyu watching them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Later that week, Y/N was working late in her office, the soft glow of her desk lamp the only light in the room. She rubbed her eyes, tired from staring at spreadsheets all day. As she reached for her coffee mug, a soft knock on the door made her jump.

"Come in," she called, straightening up in her chair.

Seungcheol poked his head in, an unusually serious expression on his face. "Got a minute?"

Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to sit. "What's up, Cheol? Is everything okay with the band?"

Seungcheol settled into the chair across from her, his usually relaxed posture tense. "Yes and no. The band is fine, but… well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "If this is about Mingyu-"

"It is," Seungcheol cut in gently. "But not in the way you might think. I have a… proposition for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "I'm listening."

Seungcheol took a deep breath. "Look, we've all noticed the tension between you two. It's affecting the band, and frankly, I hate seeing you both so miserable."

"I'm not-" Y/N started to protest, but Seungcheol held up a hand.

"Y/N, come on. We've known each other too long for that. You're not happy, and neither is Mingyu. But you're both too stubborn to do anything about it."

Y/N slumped back in her chair, the fight going out of her. "What am I supposed to do, Cheol? He made it clear he doesn't want anything serious. I can't keep putting myself out there just to get hurt again."

Seungcheol leaned forward, his eyes intense. "What if we gave Mingyu a taste of his own medicine? What if… we pretended to date?"

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What? Cheol, that's crazy. Why would we-"

"To make Mingyu jealous," Seungcheol interrupted. "Look, I've known Mingyu for years. He's stubborn and proud, but he cares about you. A lot. I think seeing you with someone else might be the push he needs to confront his feelings."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. The idea was tempting, but… "But what about the band? And my position? Wouldn't it complicate things even more?"

Seungcheol shrugged. "Maybe. But it could also solve our Mingyu problem. Plus, it might help deflect some of the pressure from your dad about taking things seriously. Dating the lead singer of HHT? That's a power move in the industry."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

"I care about both of you," Seungcheol said sincerely. "And I hate seeing you two dance around each other like this. So, what do you say? Want to be my fake girlfriend?"

After a moment of hesitation, Y/N nodded. "Okay. Let's do it. But we need to set some ground rules…"

Over the next few days, Seungcheol and Y/N put their plan into action. They started small - sitting closer during meetings, sharing inside jokes, leaving together after practice. The other band members, clued in by Seungcheol, played along perfectly.

Vernon, ever the actor, would waggle his eyebrows suggestively whenever he saw them together. Wonwoo, more subtle in his approach, would casually mention how much time Seungcheol and Y/N had been spending together lately.

Mingyu, however, was oblivious to the plan. At first, he barely seemed to notice the change in dynamics. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, alternating between trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Y/N and convincing himself he didn't care.

But as the days passed, little things started to catch his attention. The way Seungcheol's hand would linger on Y/N's back as they walked into a room. The inside jokes they seemed to share, leaving the rest of the group puzzled. The fact that Y/N was suddenly at every practice session, even when she didn't need to be.

During one particularly grueling practice, Mingyu fumbled a guitar riff he'd played perfectly a hundred times before. His eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was laughing at something Seungcheol had whispered in her ear. The sound of her laughter, once a source of joy for Mingyu, now felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Dude, you okay?" Vernon asked, concern evident in his voice.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to clear it. "Yeah, just… distracted."

Vernon followed Mingyu's gaze to where Seungcheol and Y/N were huddled together, looking at something on Y/N's phone. "They've been spending a lot of time together lately, huh?" he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Mingyu grunted noncommittally, but his grip on his guitar tightened. "I guess. Not that it's any of my business."

Vernon raised an eyebrow at that but didn't push further. As they resumed practice, he exchanged a meaningful look with Wonwoo. Their plan was working, perhaps a little too well.

As the days turned into weeks, Mingyu's mood grew increasingly sour. He snapped at staff members over minor mistakes, isolated himself during breaks, and threw himself into his music with an almost manic intensity. His songwriting, always emotionally charged, took on a darker, more melancholic tone.

One evening, after a particularly tense practice session, Wonwoo found Mingyu alone in the studio, furiously scribbling in his notebook.

"New song?" Wonwoo asked, settling into a chair nearby.

Mingyu nodded without looking up. "Yeah. It's… it's about letting go of something you never really had."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up at that. "Sounds heavy. Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, it looked like Mingyu might open up. But then he shook his head, slamming the notebook shut. "It's nothing. Just… exploring some new themes."

As Mingyu stood to leave, Wonwoo called out, "You know, if something's bothering you, you can talk to us. We're not just your bandmates, we're your friends."

Mingyu paused at the door, his back to Wonwoo. "I know," he said softly. "But some things… some things you have to figure out on your own."

With that, he was gone, leaving Wonwoo to wonder if perhaps their plan was causing more harm than good.

The situation finally came to a head at a company party celebrating HHT's latest album going platinum. The event was in full swing, the cream of the K-pop industry mingling in a high-end Seoul nightclub.

Mingyu arrived late, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. He'd spent hours agonizing over whether to attend, knowing Y/N would be there. In the end, his pride (and a strongly worded text from their manager) had won out.

He froze in the doorway as he spotted Y/N and Seungcheol on the dance floor. Y/N was wearing a stunning red dress that hugged her curves, her hair swept up to reveal the graceful line of her neck. Seungcheol, looking handsome in a well-fitted suit, had his hand on her waist as they moved in perfect sync to the music.

Something snapped inside Mingyu. He stormed over to the bar, downing a shot of soju before grabbing another. As he watched Y/N throw her head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, a series of memories flashed through Mingyu's mind:

Y/N's shy smile the first time they met at a company event. The electricity he felt the first time they kissed, hidden away in a dark corner of a after-party. Late nights spent talking about their dreams and fears, sharing parts of themselves they'd never shown anyone else. The way Y/N's eyes lit up when she listened to his new songs, always the first to offer genuine feedback and encouragement.

And then, more recent memories: The hurt in Y/N's eyes when he'd laughed off her suggestion of something more serious. The growing distance between them, a chasm he hadn't known how to bridge. The ache he felt every time he saw her now, an ache he'd tried to ignore, to rationalize away as mere physical attraction.

But seeing her now, radiant and happy in another man's arms, Mingyu could no longer deny the truth. He was in love with Y/N. Truly, madly, deeply, irrevocably in love. And he might have just lost her to his best friend.

The realization hit him like a physical blow. The glass in Mingyu's hand shattered, startling nearby partygoers. Blood dripped from his palm, but he barely noticed. All he could see was Y/N, beautiful and radiant, looking at Seungcheol with an affection that used to be reserved for him.

As staff rushed to tend to his injured hand, Mingyu's eyes met Y/N's across the room. The concern in her gaze was almost more than he could bear. In that moment, Mingyu knew he had to fight for her, to tell her how he really felt, before it was too late.

But first, he had some serious groveling to do. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to turn his pain into the most heartfelt song he'd ever written.

As he allowed himself to be led away for medical attention, Mingyu's mind was already racing with lyrics, a melody forming that he hoped would convey everything he'd been too afraid to say. He'd messed up, pushed away the best thing in his life out of fear and stubbornness. But if there was even a chance that Y/N still cared for him, he'd move heaven and earth to win her back.

Little did Mingyu know, across the room, Y/N was fighting every instinct to run to him, her heart breaking at the pain evident in his eyes. As Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly, Y/N wondered if their plan had worked a little too well. -

Y/N went home to her apartment. She sat curled up on her couch, a glass of wine in hand, trying to process the events of the evening. The company party had not gone as planned – the image of Mingyu's pain-filled eyes as he clutched his bleeding hand was seared into her memory.

Y/N's phone buzzed for the umpteenth time. Another message from Seungcheol:

"Are you sure you're okay? I can come over if you need to talk."

She sighed, typing out a quick reply:

"I'm fine. Just need some time to think. Talk tomorrow?"

As she hit send, a loud, insistent knocking startled her. Y/N glanced at the clock – 1:37 AM. Who could it be at this hour?

The knocking continued, more urgently now. "Y/N! Y/N, I know you're in there! Please… please open up."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, even slurred as it was now. Mingyu.

Hesitantly, she made her way to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find Mingyu leaning heavily against the doorframe, his usually impeccable appearance in disarray. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, hair a mess, and the unmistakable smell of soju wafted from him.

"Mingyu?" Y/N said, shock evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Mingyu's eyes, glassy from alcohol, focused on her face. A lopsided smile spread across his features. "Y/N… beautiful Y/N. I had to see you. Had to tell you…"

He stumbled forward, nearly falling. Y/N instinctively reached out to steady him, the familiar warmth of his body sending a jolt through her.

"Woah, easy there," she said, guiding him inside and closing the door. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You shouldn't be here."

Mingyu allowed himself to be led to the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "I know, I know. 'm not supposed to be here. But I couldn't… couldn't stop thinking about you. About us."

Y/N perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. Despite her better judgment, concern overtook her resolve to keep her distance. "Mingyu, what's going on? Are you okay? Your hand–"

Mingyu waved dismissively, wincing slightly at the movement. His palm was wrapped in a white bandage, a few spots of red seeping through. "It's nothing. Doesn't hurt. Not like…" he trailed off, his eyes growing sad.

"Not like what?" Y/N prompted gently.

"Not like seeing you with him," Mingyu finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N felt her heart clench. This was exactly the reaction their fake dating scheme was meant to provoke, but seeing Mingyu in actual pain made her question the wisdom of their plan.

"Mingyu, I–"

"No, let me… let me say this," Mingyu interrupted, sitting up straighter and fixing Y/N with an intense gaze. "I messed up, Y/N. I messed up so bad. I thought… I thought I could handle seeing you with someone else. Thought it didn't matter. But it does. It matters so much."

He reached out, taking Y/N's hands in his. She knew she should pull away, but found herself frozen, captivated by the raw emotion in Mingyu's eyes.

"I miss you," Mingyu continued, his thumbs tracing circles on her palms. "I miss your laugh, your smile. The way you scrunch up your nose when you're concentrating. I miss the way you make me feel – like I'm more than just a idol, more than just a pretty face or a good voice. With you, I'm just… me."

Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was everything she had wanted to hear for so long, but the circumstances were all wrong. "Mingyu, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Mingyu shook his head vehemently, then immediately looked like he regretted the motion. "No, no. I'm drunk, yes. But I know… I know what I feel. What I've always felt, even if I was too scared to admit it."

He slid off the couch, landing on his knees in front of Y/N. In any other situation, it might have been comical, but the desperation in his eyes killed any urge to laugh.

"Please, Y/N," Mingyu pleaded, still clutching her hands. "Please give me another chance. Break up with Seungcheol. He's… he's my friend, but he's not right for you. Not like I am. We're… we're meant to be together. I see that now."

Y/N felt panic rising in her chest. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Mingyu wasn't supposed to show up at her door, drunk and emotional, laying his heart bare. She wasn't prepared for this.

"Mingyu, listen to me," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "You're not thinking clearly. We can't… I can't…"

But Mingyu wasn't listening. His eyes had taken on a glassy, unfocused look. "I'll do better this time, I promise. I'll… I'll write you songs. Take you on real dates. Show the whole world how much you mean to me. Just please… please don't leave me."

His impassioned speech was interrupted by a wide yawn. The adrenaline and alcohol seemed to be wearing off, leaving exhaustion in their wake.

"I love you, Y/N," Mingyu mumbled, his head drooping. "I love you so much. Please… please just…"

And with that, Mingyu slumped forward, his head coming to rest in Y/N's lap. Within seconds, soft snores filled the air.

Y/N sat frozen, her mind reeling. Mingyu's words echoed in her head, everything she had longed to hear for months. But was it real? Or just the ramblings of a drunk, jealous man?

Gently, she extricated herself from under Mingyu, laying him out on the couch and covering him with a throw blanket. She allowed herself a moment to study his face, peaceful in sleep, before retreating to her bedroom.

As she lay in bed, sleep eluding her, Y/N's thoughts were a jumbled mess. The fake dating plan had worked – perhaps too well. Mingyu had confessed his feelings, but at what cost? And what would happen in the morning, when he woke up in her apartment with a killer hangover and the memory of his whiskey-soaked confessions?

One thing was clear: the game they'd been playing had just gotten a lot more complicated. And Y/N had a sinking feeling that someone's heart was bound to get broken in the process – quite possibly her own.

[sellasstories]

CLOSE (I)

word count: 5.7k

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd

⚠️warnings⚠️

underage drinking, slightly explicit themes, light angst, swearing

prompts:

what happens when two best friends with strong, undefined feelings quarantine together (part 1: azzi)

in other words, the pazzi covid fic

“The best duo in the world is back together!” Paige shouts from the end of the Fudds’ driveway.

“Shut up! The whole neighbourhood doesn’t need to know they’re going to have to deal with you,” Azzi yells back. “And are you just going to stand there looking stupid forever?”

Paige doesn’t even bother to pout at the lighthearted insult, running over to crush Azzi in a suffocating hug. If her first thought when she’d seen Azzi standing in the doorway with a huge smile on her face had been how beautiful the other girl looked framed in the sunlight, it was only because she was delirious with excitement. This was actually like the best thing ever. She’s going to be living with her best friend. Her best friend that people always say she’s attached at the hip with, which doesn’t even make sense because they live so far apart. Well, now they really can be and Paige doesn’t know if she can be any more excited.

As her whole family helps Paige move her bags into the house, Azzi worries (too much, Paige would tell her). It’s not that she’s not excited — she really is — but she doesn’t know if she’s going to be able to handle all of Paige for this much time.

•••••

Azzi has always been the shy one, the cautious one, never one to consider herself brave. She’s organized and methodical, and has never liked change or new things. She would cry at every new activity that her parents insisted she try as a kid, basketball included. She may have been shy, but she was never one to give up, and soon it was evident that basketball was different. Azzi had found her thing, and she was happy to throw herself into seeing how far she could take it.

Trying out for the U16 national team at 14 had been the scariest thing that Azzi had ever done, but she’d barely even had time to let the nerves set in before a blonde girl a few inches taller than her had confidently walked over and introduced herself.

Taking in Paige’s relaxed stance and cocky confident tone, Azzi had instantly recognized a rival. But as they both survived cut after cut and Paige kept talking to her (no less obnoxiously than the first time), Azzi’s mind reluctantly changed. This girl, her opposite in every way except their shared passion for the sport, was drawing her in like a magnet. Paige was loud, impulsive, and outgoing, and when Azzi was with her, she felt like she could be those things too.

By the time the tournament actually started, everyone was already referring to them as ‘Paige and Azzi’, and there was no question about who they’d be rooming with. The days passed and they only grew closer, connecting in a way that Azzi never had with anyone. She swore they were becoming one person. Azzi wasn’t brave, but when she reached out and took Paige’s hand in her own as they stood with gold medals around their necks, she felt like maybe she could be.

The rest was history. They kept talking every day, went to great lengths to go to each other’s games in different states, and were told over and over how ‘special’ their connection was. Azzi didn’t get it at first. Paige was her best friend, but everyone had a best friend that they loved the way she loved hers, didn’t they?

It had taken a couple years, but eventually Azzi had figured it out. Paige wasn’t just her best friend, she was her person. There was never going to be anyone else. There was no fanfare, no announcement or confession, just quiet acceptance as a 16-year-old Azzi had sat on her bed and tried to make sense of her uncharacteristically messy thoughts neatly scrawled in a little purple notebook that she carefully kept hidden from her parents and siblings. She’d confided only in Stewie before vowing to never tell anyone else.

Just this once, Azzi had been glad that she wasn’t brave like Paige. She wasn’t ready to change everything, especially when she already knew what Paige’s answer would probably be. She was almost positive that her best friend loved her, but she was also equally sure that it was only platonically. And that was usually fine. Azzi would take what she could get.

Azzi was disciplined, and she was able to keep up their routine, never acting in a way that would alert Paige. She knew their dynamic, and she could act accordingly. Well, mostly. It was so much easier when they were apart and Paige was just some pixels on a screen, just her goofy best friend.

When they’re together, Azzi has to exercise nearly all of her self-discipline. Because when she’s in the same room as Paige, she can’t ignore the way that her eyes shine and her smile is only ever kind. She can’t ignore the sharp lines of Paige’s body, from her cheeks to her collarbones to other places that Azzi is definitely not supposed to be looking at. And she especially can’t ignore how physical Paige is; touching, brushing, and grabbing without a care in the world because she’s just so full of love and has to get it out somehow.

•••••

So Azzi is worried. Not that she’ll get sick of Paige, but that she’ll ruin everything or somehow fall more in love, and she doesn’t even know which would be worse.

“AZZI!” Jon’s loud voice snaps her out of her thoughts.

She shakes her head. “What did you say?”

“I said thanks a lot for helping us with Paige’s stuff,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes as he goes inside.

“Sorry, I zoned out,” she calls to his back. How long has she been standing here? Shaking her head again, Azzi wanders into the kitchen where she finds her best friend talking to her parents. Paige is wearing a tank top. It looks like she’s put on some muscle since the last time Azzi saw her. Azzi stares at the ceiling. She’s fine. This is going to be fine.

•••••

Paige has a bad habit of setting herself up for disappointment. Her expectations for everything are through the roof, and while she figures the lofty ones she placed on herself are the reason that she was able to commit to UConn, she has to admit that it hasn’t helped her much in other areas of her life. School dances, birthday parties, even vacations, are never as fun as she makes them out to be in her head. But this ‘vacation’ (her parents told her not to call it that but she, of course, didn’t listen) is everything that she was hoping it would be.

Sure, it’s not like they’ve actually done anything crazy (unless you count shaving Azzi’s brothers’ heads, which she doesn’t), but anything that she gets to do with Azzi is going to live up to her expectations. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been missing out on by having a best friend that she couldn’t see every day. No matter what they’ve been up to, Paige still isn’t over Azzi being right next to her all. the. time. Paige thinks she could stare at the dark-haired girl forever. She thinks about how much she’s missed, how many parts of Azzi she didn’t know about before.

She never realized how much she loves the way Azzi talks. Sometimes, she’ll argue with her just to experience the changes in her voice and expressions. Paige wants to memorize them. She loves watching Azzi with her brothers, so similar yet so different to how she is with Drew. Paige thinks that Azzi will be a great mom someday.

She loves the way Azzi feels, too. Even though she’s been living with the younger girl for several weeks now, Paige always wants to be as close to her as possible. If there was ever any doubt that her love language was touch, it’s definitely been erased now. Paige thinks that she’d crawl into Azzi’s skin if she could. Obviously that’s not possible, but in this world where Azzi is one of the few people that Paige is allowed to get close to, she’s sure going to try.

The first week of her stay, she insists on her and Azzi picking some TV series to watch before bed, and if that results in them falling asleep where they are, she’s totally going to pretend that it wasn’t her plan all along. At first, it’s them on the couch in the living room with some or all of Azzi’s family, but the tradition quickly evolves to just the two of them settling into Azzi’s bed after the fifth night of them waking up sore from sleeping awkwardly on the couch.

Paige wouldn’t admit it, but she likes this second arrangement better, and not just because Azzi’s bed is more a comfortable place to sleep. She’s never had a problem sharing before, but Paige likes that this environment lets her have Azzi all to herself. Sure, anyone could still come in and watch with them, but Azzi seems to have some unwritten rule with her family about staying out of her space, and Paige can’t help but feel the urge to gloat that Azzi so readily lets her in.

And there’s another thing too, one that Paige doesn’t really understand. Even though Azzi’s bed is much bigger than the couch, they always seem to end up a lot closer than they were in the living room. Not physically closer (Paige had definitely fallen asleep on the couch sprawled on top of her best friend), but closer in a way that Paige realizes she’s glad the rest of the household doesn’t see. It’s not like the arms looped around waists and necks or the legs that always end up intertwined are particularly improper, but that doesn’t stop Paige from fighting the urge to pull away every time she hears a sound in the hallway.

She never says anything to Azzi, though, simply hoping the younger girl doesn’t notice, and their ritual of shared time cements itself as almost a nightly activity. Sometimes she gets sent back to her room by a tired Tim complaining about them being too loud or saying that they need some time apart, but they’re always back together the next night.

Of all the traditions established during their time together, this one is by far Paige’s favourite. She loves all the little pieces of Azzi that she gets to collect, but she holds this one just a bit closer to her heart than the others.

•••••

Paige knows she can never be bored of Azzi, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be bored with Azzi. Katie and Tim have gotten tired of filming TikToks for them, they’ve stopped keeping a record of who wins games of 21 and HORSE (which they play as UCONN), and Paige swears they’ve tried every quarantine activity.

They even managed to convince Azzi’s parents to let them climb onto her roof, which is where they are now. Azzi appears to be relatively peaceful laying on her back with her eyes closed, but Paige is sitting up and her fingers are tapping against the shingles as she looks to the next possible activity.

She sighs loudly. “What are we gonna do for the next month? Oh god, what if this lasts a year?”

“We’re literally on the roof,” Azzi turns her head towards the blonde. “Can we appreciate the fact that we even got permission for this for a second?”

“For a second, sure. But I’m so bored.” Paige gestures around them. “What is there to do here? We can only play so much one on one. Don’t you miss basketball, like real five on five… with contact and crowds?”

“Yeah, I do. I miss it as much as you do, P, but you know we can’t.” Azzi glances over to see if the other girl is even listening. “For now, you’re stuck with me and the hoop in my driveway.”

Paige groans as she flops onto her back. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take!”

“I’m going to push you off this roof if you don’t chill out,” Azzi retorts. “You wanna get away from me that bad, huh?”

Paige barely even entertains the joke. “I literally came here to not have to get away from you- that doesn’t mean I won’t jump off and say you pushed me, though,” she sticks her tongue out at her best friend. “I wanna get away from here, with you, and go do something. At this point, it doesn’t even have to be basketball!”

Azzi is mostly focused on ignoring what the casual admission of Paige’s desire to be with her (but not like that, she chides herself) is doing to her heart, but she also wants to be a helpful friend. She pushes down her stupid feelings and hopes that Paige didn’t notice any changes in her expression.

“We’ll just have to find a new thing to do in the meantime.” Her face brightens. “We just thought of the roof thing today! There has to be something else.” A hush falls over the pair as they wrack their brains. At least Azzi’s inadvertent challenge is technically something to do.

“I know! Az, have you ever been drunk before?” Paige’s excited voice shatters the silence, startling Azzi, who sits up abruptly and lurches forward before catching herself.

“Jesus, P, I could’ve fallen!” Azzi takes a few deep breaths as she waits for her heart rate to return to normal.

Leaning back to make herself feel safer, she finally dignifies Paige (who looks way less apologetic than she should, in Azzi’s opinion) with an answer. “No, when would I have? You know I don’t really go to parties, and my parents would kill me anyway.”

“I’m gonna ignore that last part, because that’s what I think we should do,” seeing Azzi’s unimpressed expression, Paige raises her arms in surrender. “Hear me out! It’ll be funny, and it’s something new as well…”

“…and?” Azzi smirks. She knows there has to be something else.

Paige looks up at the sky. “And I’m going to college really soon and I don’t know if I’m ready for all that.”

“You’re so dumb sometimes. You don’t have to train for that, Paige,” Azzi laughs. “You’re going to be totally fine, I promise. So just to be clear, you’re suggesting either getting into a liquor store and somehow managing to buy something or… what? Stealing from my parents?”

“I guess?” Paige rolls her eyes, prior embarrassment forgotten. “You know what? Fuck you, it was just an idea.” She shoves the younger girl lightly.

“Paige Madison. What did I say about the roof?”

“My bad, my bad.”

They lapse into silence again. Finally, Azzi speaks up. “All I’m saying is that this idea would probably involve lots of lying and us getting in huge trouble. I just want you to know that.”

“Shut up,” Paige groans. “I already said we didn’t have to.”

“And I’m saying we should!”

Paige figures Azzi is still messing with her. She raises an eyebrow.

“For the record,” Azzi continues as if nothing’s happened, “I think stealing from my parents is the easier option, but we can do whatever you want.”

Paige doesn’t like how much fun the younger girl seems to be having with this. She’d call it off if she wasn’t already getting excited at the prospect. “Since you’re so smart, why don’t you figure all that out? Bring everything to me and I’ll show you how to make drinks.”

Azzi sticks her tongue out. “You say that like it’s hard.” She lies down, smiling proudly.

Paige takes a minute to admire the peaceful look on Azzi’s face, thankful that her best friend’s eyes are closed. Once she tears her eyes away, she resumes her position on her back as well. A gentle breeze passes over the girls and they both shift closer together until their sides touch.

As the sun sets in front of them, no words need to be exchanged because Azzi just knows to lift her head up so Paige’s arm can slide smoothly under it. They bask in the calmness around them, and for once Paige doesn’t feel completely at odds with it.

Azzi turns into Paige’s body even more. “Look at the stars,” she whispers in awe.

Paige smiles softly, her own shining eyes surely mirroring Azzi’s. “Have you never seen them before?”

“Never from up here. You can see the whole sky, it’s really beautiful.”

So are you, Paige’s brain supplies unhelpfully. She blinks rapidly, not totally sure where that came from. Instead, she says, “I bet we can find all the constellations.”

“I don’t think I know too many,” Azzi admits. “I just like to watch for shooting stars.”

“Don’t worry, I happen to know them all,” Paige brags.

At first, Azzi believes her, but as the names and patterns get more ridiculous, it’s clear that Paige has no idea what she’s talking about. Catching onto the game, Azzi is quick to make up some of her own. It soon devolves into a contest of trying to make the other laugh, and for once Azzi doesn’t pout when Paige is the clear winner.

Azzi looks at Paige at the same time as the blonde reaches an arm out towards her. Paige’s hand trails down Azzi’s forearm and side as it comes to clasp hers. Looking down at their interlocked hands, Azzi shivers, and she knows it’s not from the breeze.

Suddenly, she’s nervous to look up, not sure if she’ll be able to survive looking into the other girl’s eyes right now. Somehow, Paige has remained silent through all of this. Azzi drags her own eyes up and is still unprepared for how her best friend can undo her with a single look.

Paige is looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world. Azzi leans forward subconsciously as she’s pulled in by the intensity of Paige’s gaze. She sees the whole sky of stars reflected back at her, even a shooting star-

“Woah,” Paige breathes. Her eyes shift away and it breaks whatever spell Azzi had been under. She mentally kicks herself. She’d been seconds away from doing something truly stupid and she knows it. “Az, I think that was a shooting star.”

“Then you have to make a wish,” Azzi insists.

“You should too.”

“That’s not how it works,” Azzi giggles.

Paige frowns. “Can I give you my wish then?” Seeing the shake of Azzi’s head, the blonde has an idea. “Then I wish for us both to see another shooting star tonight.”

“Thank you,” Azzi whispers. “Even though you’re not supposed to tell me what you wished for,” she can’t resist adding.

“I want you to know,” Paige shrugs.

Azzi has scarcely opened her mouth to reply when she sees it. Clear as day, a bright streak right in front of her eyes. She shakes Paige’s shoulders urgently and points to the sky behind her best friend. “Look, look, your wish came true! It’s a shooting star!”

Paige seems unfazed as she follows the line of Azzi’s finger. “Good. I’m not telling you what I wish for this time, though.”

“Good, because that’s how it’s supposed to work,” Azzi reminds her.

They stare at the spot where the shooting star disappeared long after it fades into the night sky. Closing her eyes, Azzi doesn’t even have to think about her wish. If she’d known that right beside her, Paige was wishing for them to be this close forever, she would’ve been ecstatic.

If Azzi claiming a need to not fall off the roof is clearly just an excuse to wrap her body tightly around Paige’s, the older girl isn’t complaining. Especially when holding Azzi in her arms that night is making her feel more grounded than she has in a long time.

•••••

They decide to get drunk the next night. It’s difficult to act normal all day but they manage, finally getting to an acceptable hour to excuse themselves to go to bed.

Tim should’ve known something is up when Paige hardly puts up a fight after being told to go to her own room, but he’s tired and not about to complain about the normally difficult job being less so.

After that, it really is as easy as Azzi said it would be. She sets a timer for thirty minutes and paces her room as she watches it tick down. After completing a mental checklist of what she’s grabbing, she decides to change into a crop top and nicer shorts. Already feeling ridiculous, she suppresses the urge to fix her hair, pushes down the nervous energy, and goes back to pacing.

When she finally tiptoes into her dark kitchen, the whole house is silent. There’s never been an effort to hide the alcohol because Azzi’s never given her parents a reason to, and she’s thankful for that right now. She makes it to Paige’s room without incident and knocks as softly as she can.

The door opens almost immediately and Azzi feels slightly better when she realizes that Paige must’ve been pacing her room as well. The blonde leans on the doorframe as she looks Azzi up and down.

“Nice outfit,” there’s mirth in Paige’s tone, but no malice, and a part of Azzi wonders if she means it. What Azzi doesn’t know is that Paige considered doing the exact same thing but talked herself out of it, a fact that she will very much be keeping to herself.

“Shut up,” The younger girl whines before shoving her way into Paige’s room. She looks over her shoulder. “And, if I remember correctly, you have some drinks to make.”

Paige surveys the contents of Azzi’s raid. “Yeah, gimme a second.” In Paige’s defense, she doesn’t have a lot to work with. But she did also totally lie when she told Azzi she knew how. She doesn’t really know why, it’s not like Azzi would’ve cared or anything.

Maybe this should warrant further investigation, but Paige has put her pride on the line and nothing is more important right now than defending it. With almost laughably fake confidence, the blonde fills two cups with a mixture of vodka, Sprite, and tonic water. She hands one to Azzi, who gives her an incredulous look.

“You’re so full of shit. Are you even supposed to mix all this together?” The dark-haired girl sniffs the drink and wrinkles her nose.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Just trust me. Drink on three?”

“Fine.” Azzi takes a deep breath.

They touch their cups and Paige counts to three. When the drink hits the back of her throat, she attempts to save face by masking the sudden sensation that her mouth is on fire. Azzi has no such reservations.

“What the fuck is this?” She splutters. “That’s like, way too strong.”

“Don’t look at me,” Paige is quick to defend herself. “I didn’t have anything to measure with, and it’s not like it’s supposed to taste that good anyway.”

They continue to bicker back and forth as they figure out what they want to do. Azzi bans Paige from making any more drinks, and they agree to just drink from the bottle and have a cup of Sprite to use as a chaser. It’s also Azzi’s idea to sit on the floor with their backs against Paige’s bed, facing away from her bedroom door. It probably wouldn’t do much to prevent them from getting caught, but it does make them both feel a little better.

It’s quickly discovered that ‘Truth or Drink’ isn’t the best game for them. They already know everything about each other, and neither of them can seem to think of anything that the other isn’t willing to share.

Well, Azzi can think of one thing. She doesn’t want to bring it up because she definitely has more to hide, but as they pass the bottle back and forth and her mind starts to get hazy, her jealousy curiosity gets the best of her.

“Sooo, Paigey, wanna tell me about your crush?” Azzi can hardly get the question out before she dissolves into giggles.

Paige is genuinely confused. “My what?”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “Remember the Overtime video you did, the one I was literally in?”

“I forgot about that question, not gonna lie,” Paige shrugs. “It’s not like it’s true, anyway. That’s just what I say when people ask.” She leans her head back and puts an arm around Azzi’s shoulders.

Azzi’s not one to give up easily. “You must have one, though.”

Paige pushes the side of Azzi’s head into her chest. “Who says I do?” This doesn’t seem to deter her.

“Me,” Azzi’s voice is muffled as she continues. “If you didn’t, you would’ve just said no one. No need to have a cover unless saying you didn’t would’ve been an obvious lie,” the younger girl reasons, smiling triumphantly. “So I’m asking again, who is it?”

Paige looks away. “No one,” she mumbles, cheeks burning.

Azzi looks up at her with a shit-eating grin. She’s vaguely aware of how quickly this could turn on her, but she’s having too much fun to care. “Aww, are you embarrassed?”

Paige doesn’t answer, taking a deep breath before bringing the bottle to her lips. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she tries to hide her expression of disgust at the strong taste. “But you’re just so perfect, right? The Azzi Fudd, best basketball player in the world, doesn’t have time for silly things like crushes, does she?”

Azzi would be lying if she said that she had any idea what was going to come out of her mouth. “I never said that.” She cringes inwardly at herself. Paige had literally given her an out and she hadn’t taken it.

“So who’s the lucky guy?” Paige’s tone is playful, but Azzi’s entire world has suddenly narrowed in on that one simple sentence. Her mind is floundering, going too fast and too slow at once, and the urge to finally share her secret is almost overwhelming. Briefly, she imagines how freeing it would be to say it out loud. But she’s kept it together this long, and Paige Bueckers is not going to break her, even if it seems like she’s getting closer every day.

Azzi has to say something, and she can feel the words ready to spill out like a rising tide. As Paige’s smirk grows at what she perceives to be Azzi’s own embarrassment, the younger girl realizes that she’s going to have to give something up.

And so, ever the analyst, ever the planner, Azzi trades one truth for another. Even if it feels like the safer option in her head, she freezes as the words fall from her lips, eyes fixed apprehensively on Paige’s face.

“I never said it was a guy.”

Paige’s mouth opens and closes, and Azzi is paralyzed. She thinks it might be the alcohol, but her mind is completely blank and she’s suddenly struggling to breathe. Is this what drowning feels like? There’s only one way to interpret what she said, and she can’t take it back now.

“Sorry, are you-” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose. “That’s cool, congratulations?” She smiles ruefully. “I’m sorry, Az, I promise I’d be handling this better sober.”

It’s Azzi’s turn to smile cautiously. “You wouldn’t have gotten this out of me sober,” she admits, tipping her head back to rest against the side of the bed.

Paige finally collects her thoughts. “So, are you like, a lesbian then?” She asks, ignoring Azzi’s most recent statement. This is the first time her best friend has admitted any romantic interest, and she wonders if that might be why.

“It’s not your turn to ask questions,” the dark-haired girl groans. “But no, I don’t think so. I haven’t thought about it too much honestly, but I think I’m probably bi.”

Paige nods slowly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Azzi’s heart beating out of her chest as she waits for her friend’s judgment.

“This is gonna sound so dumb now,” Paige blurts out suddenly. “I think I might be, too. That’s why I didn’t wanna tell you who my crush was. It was a girl at my school, her name is Imani.”

The words don’t register all at once. Azzi first experiences relief — Paige likes girls too, this won’t make anything weird, then hope — Paige likes girls, maybe there’s a chance?, which quickly turns to disappointment — Paige likes another girl. She hardly feels the tears welling up as not me not me not me echoes unchecked in her mind.

But Paige sees them, and soon she’s pulling Azzi against her chest, fully this time, opening her legs so that Azzi can sit in between them. “That was really brave of you, you know that, right?” She whispers.

The tenderness in the blonde’s voice is the final straw before the tears are spilling down Azzi’s cheeks. “That’s supposed to be your thing,” she retorts with a watery smile. Paige lets out a soft laugh, and Azzi joins her, not completely sure if she’s laughing or crying as the tears continue to pour out.

If Paige’s shirt gets a little wet, she doesn’t comment on it. And Azzi falls just a little deeper, lacking both the mental and physical strength to stop herself. She might be a rational person, but just this once she lets herself indulge in a small feeling of superiority because right now she’s in Paige’s arms and this Imani girl isn’t.

They must’ve fallen asleep there because Azzi has only a dim memory of gentle but firm hands urging her to get up onto the bed before slipping warm fabric over her head.

•••••

Azzi wakes up in what has to be the middle of the night. She must still be drunk because there’s a light haze over her vision. Her surroundings register as she sits up. How did she get back in her room, and where is Paige?

She jumps a little when she sees a figure sitting on the floor by her bed, calming down as she recognizes the familiar silhouette.

“Paige? What’s going on?” She calls out.

Paige turns to look at her over her shoulder, eyes twinkling. “Nothing, just looking at the moon. It reminds me of you, you know?” She turns back, offering no further explanation.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Azzi blinks heavily. “Please just come lie down, it’s so late.”

Azzi has half a mind to ask Paige to close her blinds (she certainly remembers closing them, but doesn’t dwell on it), but when she stops to admire her best friend in the pale glow of the moonlight, she decides she might not mind them being left open.

Paige is sitting on the bed now. She places a hand on Azzi’s wrist. “You’re hot, lie on me above the covers.”

Azzi hadn’t given it a single thought beforehand, but now that Paige has pointed it out, she definitely is feeling warm. The blonde really does seem to know her better than she knows herself.

Paige lies down and Azzi shifts so that her back is on Paige’s chest. Azzi, getting hotter by the second, bends up one short-clad leg. Soon, Paige is tracing it lightly from knee to thigh. Her nails graze the bare skin, sending shivers across Azzi’s whole body.

Paige lets a hand creep under Azzi’s shirt to rest on her stomach. Azzi’s legs fall open and the movement causes the hand on her stomach to slide just under her waistband. Paige doesn’t pull away. Azzi doesn’t tell her to. Azzi is burning up. She wonders if Paige is too.

Azzi grits her teeth and tries to calm the fire in the pit of her stomach and the war being waged in her head. Please just fucking touch me.

She shifts her hips again, marginally enough to still be played off, but also enough for Paige’s hand to shift farther down than is acceptable, even for them. Paige’s fingers curl slightly on instinct and Azzi almost moans.

“Is there something you want from me?” Paige asks cautiously, no hint of teasing in her words.

Azzi looks up at the blonde desperately.

“More,” she breathes, biting her lip. Paige’s wide eyes don’t leave hers as the hand on her stomach gets tantalizingly closer to where she needs it-

•••••

Azzi’s eyes snap open. She’s lying on her back, like she was in the dream, and Paige is there too, but the blonde is fast asleep, her face pressed into a pillow. Shaking her head slightly, Azzi stares up at the ceiling. She’s in Paige’s room, where she fell asleep, apparently wearing one of her best friend’s hoodies.

Grimacing, Azzi resolves to never drink again. Her mouth is dry, her head is pounding, and she feels like she might actually explode. She’s already stressing about dealing with the consequences of the previous night, and she’s certainly not willing to process her dream on top of all of that.

She looks down at the way Paige is draped across her body, a hand resting possessively protectively over Azzi’s waist. It tightens at the first sign of movement, leaving Azzi no choice but to stay right where she is. She thinks she could get used to this feeling of belonging.

Azzi reminds herself why she can never say anything, what she would lose if she did. She knows that Paige loves her — though last night made it explicitly clear that it’s not like that — and she would never risk that love or that trust. Sighing, Azzi tries to get comfortable without waking Paige, making sure to keep her legs firmly squeezed together. She’s fine. This is fine. This is enough.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Sweet Understanding - Emily Prentiss

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

——

Summary: Reader has a rough day at work and Emily knows just how to relieve some stress.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: reader has sensory issues but specific condition is not mentioned. inspired by my real life experiences, i have adhd and get very easily overstimulated so i did get a little self indulgent with this one lol

TW: fingering, oral sex, praise kink, afab reader, use of “girl” and she/her pronouns in reference to reader, mentions of sensory issues, borderline excessive use of pet names, reader is submissive & slightly unsure of herself

Rating: R, there’s a lot of fluff here but it develops into smut so 18+ only please!

——

You shut the door a little too hard behind you as you dropped your bag to the floor, sigh of relief falling from your lips.

“What’s wrong baby?” Emily questioned, getting up from her place on the couch to walk over to you. Her slender arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into a much-needed hug after the day you’d had.

“Work was awful, my whole body is sore and I had to fight through how overstimulated everything about that place makes me all day.” You stumbled over your words, your brain struggling to form a coherent thought with how low your social battery was from all of the interactions you had to engage in throughout the day.

“I’m sorry you had a tough day sweet girl, is there anything I can do to help?” Her hand cupped your cheek, thumb swiping softly over your skin. You lean into her touch, looking into her eyes as you search for any semblance of hesitation, but there is none. Emily doesn’t have any reservations about your relationship, she knows how tough your sensory issues are to handle and all she wants is to make life a little easier for you in any way she can. You’re too precious to her, she never wants to see you in pain if she can help it.

“Maybe a bath…together?” You suggest, crimson blush rising over your cheeks. You’re still a little shy to initiate intimacy of any kind, learning to ask for touch from the one person who’s touch you desire most is all so foreign to you after a lifetime of discomfort with contact from others.

“That is an excellent idea, can you get the water running angel? I just have to grab a couple things and I’ll be right in.” You nod and she kisses you on the forehead before parting, making you way to your ensuite bathroom. When Emily was apartment hunting she specifically wanted a tub deep enough to fit two people. As strong as the front she puts up is, she’s really a romantic at heart, and recreating a romcom bubble bath scene had been on her bucket list for awhile. You were grateful for that now, illicit thoughts floating through your mind as you watched the water slowly fill up the tub.

Emily finally joined you, setting your favorite scented lotion on the bathroom counter and pouring some bubble bath into the still-rising water.

“Give me your hands, sweetheart.” She cooed, opening the bottle of lotion and taking a small amount into her palms. She took your hands in hers, her fingers gently massaging the tired muscles in your palms and giving the cracked skin on the back of your hands some much-needed moisture. She knew you couldn’t stand the feeling of your hands being dry, it was one of the seemingly small things that she could help, and she didn’t mind getting to have a little extra time holding your hand.

Once she finished, she helped lift your top over your head, goosebumps forming as the cool air hit your bare skin. You both continued to undress until you were completely bare, your nipples perking at the exposure.

Emily took your hand, letting you brace yourself against her for extra stability as you stepped into the tub, sinking into the warm water. Once you were properly settled she stepped in behind you, her back resting against the side of the tub as she pulled your hips back so you were between her legs, your back flush with her chest. You snuggled into her, resting your head on her shoulder and enjoying the way the warm water soothed your aching legs.

“You’re so beautiful babydoll.” Her voice was smooth, and her praise caused your cheeks to flush again.

“Thank you my love.” You purred, relaxing fully against her. Her fingers began to trace patterns up your sides, fingertips dancing along the sides of your breasts. A chill ran up your spine at the sensitive touch, a dull ache growing between your thighs. Her touch became more intense, hands cupping your breasts, gently kneading as your nipples rubbed against her palms. You whined, growing desperate for more.

“What do you need, sweet girl?” She asked, rolling your nipples between her fingers in hopes of eliciting more sounds from you. It worked, whimpers falling from your lips as she tweaked your sensitive buds.

“Touch me please.” You whine, squirming against her.

“I’m already touching you angel, you need to be more specific.”

“Between my legs, please.” You can’t articulate exactly what you want because you’re honestly not sure, you just want her to do whatever she wants with your pussy.

Her right hand movies to your inner thigh, fingers inching closer until she traces your labia, teasingly rubbing just beside your clit. You whine in frustration before taking her hand in yours and placing her fingers on your clit.

“Right here.” You sigh, closing your eyes in anticipation. She rubs slowly at first, almost agonizingly so before picking up the pace, rubbing quick circles over your bundle of nerves. The water begins to sway ever so slightly around you, her arm movements creating gentle waves. You nuzzle your forehead against her neck, soft moans falling just beneath her ear, spurring her on. Before you know it she’s dipping her index and middle fingers inside of you, thumb taking over rubbing your clit as she curls her fingers inside of you.

You’re losing all semblance of reality, only able to focus on her slender fingers pumping expertly into you, coaxing out desperate whimpers as your release draws closer and closer.

Your walls start to contract around her fingers, telling her you were teetering on the edge of release.

“That’s it sweetheart, let go.” She whispers, holding her pace steady until you cry out, a broken sob wracking your body as euphoria washes over you, the tension that had built up throughout the day finally releasing.

Emily slows her ministrations, helping you work through your orgasm before withdrawing her fingers from your pulsing cunt. She plants a kiss on your forehead once more, looking lovingly into your hazy eyes.

“So good for me, angel.” She praises, letting you recover for a moment. You plant kisses along her jawline, taking your hand in yours.

“Thank you.” You sigh, content to sit here with her until the end of time.

“I’m always happy to help you, no matter what.”

“I know, but you’re always so busy and I don’t want to add any stress, it’s not fair to you.” Guilt starts to creep in slightly as you realize you hadn’t asked how her day was when you got home.

“Baby, the team hasn’t had a case in 2 weeks, I’ve done nothing but paperwork all day. You are under a lot more stress than I am right now, and I know you’ll return the favor so don’t worry about it.” She reassured, squeezing your hand.

“Can I do that now? Return the favor, I mean.” You start to rise from the tub, reaching out your hand to help Emily up. She smiles at you, nodding approval as she steps out. The two of you quickly dry off, trailing into the bedroom.

“How do you want me?” She questions, okay with whatever position is most comfortable for you.

“Sit against the headboard and spread your legs, please.” You tell her, always polite even in your desires. She does just what you ask, giving you a full view of her gorgeous cunt. You climb on the bed with her, moving to lay on your stomach with your head between her legs. You look up at her longingly and she smiles down at you, lightly nodding to give you the go ahead.

You dive in, tongue lapping long flat stripes through her folds, desperate to taste as much of her as possible. You were hungry, savoring the delicious taste of her arousal as you dipped your tongue inside of her. Her hand found its way to your hair, fingers tangling in soft strands as she pulled you closer.

Your hand joined your mouth, fingers sliding into her to feel the warmth of her walls pulsing around them. Your tongue gave kitten licks to her clit, slowly increasing pressure and pace until you had her moaning and grinding her hips against you. You wrapped your lips around her bundle of nerves, sucking as you curled your fingers, knowing just how to take her over the edge. You needed to taste her cum, desperate for the sight of her milky white release on your fingers.

“Don’t stop baby, almost there!” She moaned, lightly tugging your hair as her grip locked.

You used your free hand to reach up and tweak her nipple, the added sensation delicious enough to finally give her the release you both were so desperate for. You gently licked her clit, helping her ride the wave until she relaxed, her cries of ecstasy turning to pants of relief. You removed your fingers, sucking them clean before pressing your tongue flat against her entrance to lap up the rest of her arousal.

“You are incredible.” Her words took a moment to register but the moment they did you could feel your heart swell, she was the incredible one. She made you feel more comfortable than anyone else in your life ever had, and you were so grateful for her.

“I love you.” You climbed up to lay beside her, pulling her in for a kiss. She returned the favor, her arms wrapping around your waist.

“I love you too sweet girl.”

You laid your head on her chest, her fingers toying with your hair until you drifted off to sleep.

——

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist :) I’ll be doing separate tag lists for specific characters as well so let me know if you’d like to be on my general or a specific one.

[isak-dot-gov]

Lie to Girls

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Singer!reader

Word count: 1133

My masterlist :)

......................................

Paige sat alone in her dorm room, staring at the ceiling. She had just gotten off a video call with you, and the conversation had been... strained, to say the least. You were on the other side of the country, promoting your new album, Short n' Sweet. It was supposed to be a celebratory time for both of you, but instead, the distance between you felt more like an emotional chasm than a physical one.

Paige knew she had messed up. She had kept secrets from you, told white lies that grew into something much bigger and more hurtful. She didn’t mean to deceive you, but one small lie led to another until she was caught in a web of her own making. She hadn't realised the extent of the damage until now, when it seemed like your trust in her was crumbling.

A knock at her door pulled her out of her thoughts. “Paige, you coming to the common room?” Nika poked her head in, offering a small smile. “We’re gonna listen to Y/N’s new album together.”

Paige hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt. She hadn’t even listened to the album yet—too afraid of what she might hear. She knew you wrote from the heart, and if there was anything about your recent rough patch, she didn’t know if she could handle it.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” she finally replied, getting up. Maybe listening with her teammates would make it easier.

When she arrived at the common room, the rest of the UCONN women’s basketball team was already there, sprawled out on couches and chairs. The speakers were hooked up, and someone had pulled up your album on their phone. As the opening track started playing, the room filled with your voice, warm and familiar. It was like you were there with them.

The first few songs were upbeat, celebrating love, friendship, and life’s little joys. Paige smiled sadly, remembering when you wrote those songs, how excited you had been to share them with her. She had been so proud of you, so in love. And she still was, even if she had been too foolish to show it lately.

But as the album progressed, the tone shifted. The songs became more introspective, more raw. Paige could feel the tension in the room grow as everyone sensed the change. Then, the soft guitar intro of the second last track, "Lie to Girls," began to play, and Paige’s heart clenched.

Your voice came through the speakers, softer than usual, almost fragile:

Don’t swear on your mom

That it’s the first drink that you’ve had in like a month

No, don’t say it was just

An isolated incident that happened once

Paige’s breath hitched. She could feel the weight of your words like a punch to the gut. She knew this was about her, about the lies she had told to keep things easy, to avoid conflict. But now, hearing the pain in your voice, she realised just how deeply she had hurt you.

The song continued, each line a dagger twisting in Paige’s heart:

There’s no need to pretend

I’ve never seen an ugly truth that I can’t bend

To something that looks better

I’m stupid, but I'm clever

Yeah, I can make a shitshow look a whole lot like forever and ever

Paige swallowed hard, tears pricking at her eyes. She glanced around the room, noticing the sombre expressions on her teammates’ faces. They knew, too. They knew what this was about.

You don't have to lie to girl

If they like you they’ll just lie to themselves

Like you, they’ll just lie to themselves

You don't have to lie to girls

If they like you, they’ll just lie to themselves 

Don’t I know it better than anyone else?

The chorus hit, and Paige felt a tear slip down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, trying to keep her composure. She remembered all the times you had asked her if something was wrong, all the times she had brushed it off or made excuses. She had thought she was protecting you, but she had only been protecting herself.

All of your best excuses

No, they don’t stand a chance

Against all the chances I give you

Isn’t ideal, but damn

You don’t even have to try

Turn you into a good *girl* 

You don’t have to lift a finger 

It’s lucky for you I’m just like 

My mother (And my sisters)

All my (All my friends)

The girl outside the strip club getting her tarot cards read

We love to read the cold, hard facts and swear they’re incorrect

We love to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrest

Paige couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. She covered her face with her hands, sobs shaking her shoulders. She felt Azzi’s arm wrap around her, pulling her into a comforting hug. “It’s okay, Paige,” Azzi whispered, but Paige shook her head.

“It’s not okay,” Paige choked out between sobs. “I lied to her. I lied to her, and now… now she’s hurting, and it’s all my fault.”

Aaliyah reached out, squeezing Paige’s hand. “Paige, we all make mistakes. But you have to own up to them. You have to show her you’re willing to change.”

Paige nodded, trying to steady her breathing. The song was still playing, your voice breaking as you sang the final lines:

Girls will cry and girls will lie and (Ooh)

Girls will lose their goddamn minds for you (Oh)

They’ll cry and girls will lie and 

Do it ‘til the day they die for you

The song ended, and the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Paige knew she couldn’t let things stay like this. She had to make it right. She had to find a way to earn back your trust, to show you that she was willing to be honest, no matter how hard it was.

“I need to talk to her,” Paige said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell her everything.”

The team nodded in agreement, offering murmurs of support. They knew how much you meant to Paige, and they wanted to see her make things right.

Paige stood up, wiping her eyes. She didn’t know if you would forgive her, didn’t know if she could fix what she had broken. But she had to try. She couldn’t let you go without a fight.

As she left the room, Paige replayed your song in her mind, your voice echoing in her ears. She had a lot to make up for, but she was determined to start now. She had lied to you, but she wouldn’t lie to herself anymore. She loved you, and she was ready to do whatever it took to prove it.

...........................................................

Isak speaks: Some people are gonna hate me for leaving this on a cliffhanger so I'll get the apology video ready lol. Also I promise I'll post a part two. Can I guarantee It'll be out extremely soon? No, not really(sorry again), but I will try so that's gotta count for something, right? This song has also been stuck in my head all day hence why I came up with this