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theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago

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I LOVED YOU FIRST PT3 | FC43

part one | part two |

an: this is the most requested part three. i fell asleep so many times writing this but i’m waiting for tate’s new song so it gave me something to do. not proof read.

wc: 8.3k

It was nearly dawn when Franco turned off the engine, but the silence felt hollow. He sat motionless in the cockpit of his car, his hands still gripping the wheel even though he had finished his lap over an hour ago. The empty track stretched before him, a stark grey line splitting the waking sky, and for a fleeting moment, he considered taking off down it one more time, just for the noise.

That had been the only reason he'd even bothered coming out this morning. Noise. Anything loud enough to cut through the thick numbness that had settled over his life the last two years. Even racing—his childhood dream, his only real thrill—felt distant, just another repetition in an endless loop of things he used to care about.

He let go of the wheel, his fingers stiff and aching, and slumped back into his seat. The inside of the car still smelled new, though he’d driven this car all season. But everything in his life felt new in the wrong way, like he was breaking in someone else's skin.

Franco closed his eyes, but there was no escape there either. As much as he tried to avoid it, the image still came easily: two years ago, his wedding day. The hushed gasp of the guests as he had walked back down the aisle alone, the weight of his father-in-law’s hand on his shoulder. And her eyes—his childhood best friend, his first love, his confession to her still raw in his throat. He'd bared his heart, thought he was finally doing the right thing, only to watch her turn him down, her gaze steady and unwavering.

It was strange how clearly he could remember it. She had moved on. He was too late.

And yet here he was, two years later, sitting in the emptiness his choices had carved out. His marriage was the result of the aftermath—inevitable, unstoppable, once her father had coerced him into making it right. He’d been a fool to think he could live with it, that he could somehow build a life out of that hollowed-out choice. But every day he woke up, and every day it was the same. A stranger beside him, a public charade. He was trapped in a marriage more binding than he had ever imagined, one that had closed off any other life he might have had.

A tap on the side of the car startled him out of his thoughts. His agent, Eddie, looked at him expectantly, his face creased with concern. Franco forced himself to meet his gaze, pulling on a blank expression he’d perfected over the last two years.

"You good, man?" Eddie's voice sounded so distant for some reason.

Franco forced a nod. “Just getting in some practice.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You finished over an hour ago."

Franco shrugged, not offering any other excuse. What could he say? That he no longer felt the rush, that even the raw thrill of racing at 200 miles per hour left him feeling nothing? It would be admitting too much. He wasn’t sure he could handle what Eddie would say if he knew.

As he finally climbed out of the car, his gaze drifted toward the track, that endless stretch of asphalt, and for just a second, he felt a flicker of what it used to mean to him. Freedom, purpose, maybe even love. But that had been before her—before he had thrown it all away, thinking he could have her back. And now all he was left with was this: the shadow of a life he hadn’t chosen, the memory of a love that had been real once, and a future he couldn’t bring himself to face.

Franco shook his head, stuffing the thought away. "Let’s just get through today" he muttered to himself, the words a quiet vow.

Tomorrow, he’d put on the act again.

The house was silent when Franco walked in. He closed the door softly, slipping off his shoes out of habit rather than any real desire to keep the peace. She was there, sitting in the dimly lit living room, curled on one end of the couch with her legs tucked under her. A book lay open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t moving over the words.

They hadn’t spoken much in days, maybe even weeks, except for the occasional small-talk exchange over morning coffee or at some public event. When they were alone, it was as if they were two strangers who’d agreed on a routine. She looked up as he walked in, and he wondered if she was waiting for him to speak first.

But he didn’t. He simply nodded, moving past her as if it were just another evening in this quiet, loveless house. He heard her shift, a quick intake of breath, and he paused, feeling her eyes on his back.

“I cheated,” she said, her voice flat, almost as if it were a statement she’d practised a thousand times, something she needed to let out before it grew stale.

Franco slowly turned to face her, letting the words settle, though he didn’t feel anything sharp or raw. Instead, there was just the dull, familiar weight of something like resignation. He studied her face, waiting for the anger or betrayal to come, but there was nothing. Just the same emptiness that had been there for two years.

“Okay,” he said, his voice calm, resigned.

She blinked, her expression faltering. “Okay?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t expected that response. Her brow furrowed, and she set her book aside, sitting up straighter. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you want me to do about it? You’ve already done it.”

She searched his face, a flicker of frustration and hurt sparking in her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry, Franco?” Her voice was louder now, cracking slightly. “Why don’t you care? Why don’t you… love me? What did I do wrong?”

For the first time that evening, he felt something stir. Not anger, exactly, but a kind of distant ache. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion in her face, the years of pretending, of building a life on a foundation that had never been real. And he knew, somehow, that she felt as trapped as he did.

“This isn’t about what you did wrong,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t have it in me to love you, not in the way you want.”

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with frustration. “But we were supposed to be in this together. My father… Your team. The whole world expects it. I have tried, Franco. I’ve done everything I could to make this work. I just wanted you to see me, to try…”

He sighed, looking away. “We’ve been pretending for two years. It’s not that I haven’t seen you—I just don’t think we were ever meant to see each other this way.”

Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. She stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “So what now? We just keep living like this, sharing the same house, putting on a show for everyone?”

Franco didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know what they were supposed to do, what the next step would even look like. They were bound together by more than their vows—by the expectations, the pressure, the image of a life neither of them had chosen. He knew she deserved better than this emptiness, the hollow echo of what might have been.

After a moment, he sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

She looked away, biting her lip, and for the first time he saw the loneliness in her eyes. "I don’t know," she murmured, her voice quiet. "I don’t know if I ever knew."

She looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and then let out a long, quiet breath. "I’ll speak to my father," she said, her voice steady. “We’ll break it off. There’s… someone else. For me, I mean.”

Franco nodded, feeling only a strange sort of relief. “Okay.”

She gave a small, sad smile, as if she’d expected more—anger, maybe, or regret. “I’ll make sure he keeps the sponsors on your team,” she added, her voice softening. “It’s the least I can do.”

Franco shook his head. “He doesn’t have to. I don’t want you worrying about that.”

For a moment, she looked at him with something almost like sympathy. “Franco… it’s not your fault,” she said.

He frowned slightly, unsure what she meant. “What isn’t?”

She looked away, gathering her thoughts, and then back at him, her gaze unwavering. “It’s not your fault you still love her after all these years. Some things… they just don’t go away.”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. Her words hung between them, exposing something he’d tried to bury, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. His silence was answer enough.

“She was a very lovely woman when I met her,” she continued, her voice softer, almost wistful. “I’m sure she hasn’t changed. I’m sure you two would be perfect together.”

He looked down, swallowing the ache in his chest. For all their distance, she’d seen more of him than he’d realised, even if they had never truly belonged to each other. Maybe she’d known all along. Maybe that’s why they’d been drifting from the beginning, like two people playing their parts, waiting for the script to finally run out.

He stood up, running a hand over the back of his neck, his voice low. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

She nodded, her eyes full of an understanding that somehow made this harder. “Okay. Goodnight, Franco.”

He gave her a brief nod, then turned and headed down the hall, his footsteps soft against the hardwood. The walls of the house felt like a cage, closing in with every step, but he knew that maybe, for the first time, there was a way out—for both of them.

Franco closed the door to the guest room, feeling the weight of everything settling over him. He felt like a visitor in his own life, just as he had every day for the past two years. He slipped off his watch, set it on the nightstand, and reached for his phone to set an alarm.

Just as he did, his mother’s name lit up the screen. She called him every night, their routine barely wavering since he’d left home all those years ago to chase his dream. He answered, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, finally, you picked up! I thought I’d missed you tonight, hijo.” she said, her voice bright and warm, filling the room with a bit of comfort he hadn’t known he needed.

“Sorry. It’s been… a long day,” he replied, not sure where to start even if he’d wanted to.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, sympathy lacing her voice. She paused, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Well, you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”

He smiled slightly, settling back against the pillows. “Knowing you, mama, it could be anyone.”

“You flatter me,” she laughed. “But no, this one you’ll want to hear. I ran into your chiquita's mama at the market this morning.”

At the mention of his childhood best friend, Franco’s heart gave a small, involuntary jolt. He kept his voice casual, though he could feel his pulse quicken. “Oh yeah?”

“Guess who’s moving back home?” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “She’s coming back without that boyfriend of hers—what was his name, Angelo or something? Anyway, I don’t know what happened there, but her mama didn’t say much, just that she’ll be moving back in soon.”

Franco fell silent, her words sinking in. She was moving back. Back to the same town, back to where they’d both grown up. It was strange hearing it now, after all this time—especially tonight. He tried to imagine her there, close by, after years of being nothing more than a memory, a lingering ache. She hadn’t been in touch since his wedding. They hadn’t spoken, not really, since that day he’d confessed everything.

“Franco?” his mother asked, her voice pulling him back. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I’m here. Just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, I thought you’d be pleased to know,” she said gently. “I don’t know why she’s moving back, and I suppose it’s none of my business, but I hope she’s doing alright. I always liked that girl.”

“Me too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He wondered what could have happened to bring her back. She’d seemed happy, at least in the few times he’d seen her in the public eye over the last two years—smiling, vibrant, that spark still in her. Whatever had drawn her back, he doubted it was anything good.

“Anyway, I just thought I’d tell you,” his mother went on, a hint of cheer in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll see her around when she’s back. Goodness knows you two could catch up. I’ll let you get some sleep, though. You sound tired, love.”

“I am,” he said honestly. “Thanks, mama.”

“Goodnight, mi amor,” she said softly. “Try not to worry so much. Things have a way of working out.”

He hung up, setting the phone down on the nightstand, but his mind kept circling back to her, the unanswered questions piling up. Why was she moving home? Why now, after everything?

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet gnaw at him. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stirring beneath the emptiness—something that he hadn’t let himself feel since that day two years ago. A flicker of hope, of curiosity. And maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of longing.

Franco woke up to an unsettling silence the following morning. The kind that felt thick, heavy, and somehow different from the usual quiet he’d grown accustomed to in this house. He rubbed his eyes, groggy, his mind still tangled in the remnants of last night’s conversation with his mother. She was moving back home. The thought had settled somewhere deep, like a stone sinking to the bottom of his chest, and he hadn’t stopped wondering why she’d come back.

He rose slowly, crossing the hall toward the master bedroom to grab his things, but as he reached the door, he noticed it was open just a crack. There was an odd stillness inside, an emptiness. Pushing the door open fully, he froze.

The wardrobes were wide open, their shelves bare, nothing left but empty hangers. He scanned the room, taking in the strange absence of her things: the jewellery stand, her perfumes, even the photos from the dresser—all gone.

On the bed, her wedding band glinted in the morning light, sitting atop a folded sheet of paper. Heart pounding, Franco walked over and picked up the note, her familiar handwriting scrawled across the page in clean, deliberate strokes.

"Go live a life you’ll enjoy. Go get the girl."

He read the words over and over, the reality slowly sinking in. She had really left. It was over, finally—no more strained conversations, no more pretences, no more empty rooms they shared out of duty. She had made the choice for both of them, letting him go in a way neither of them had been able to until now.

He let out a slow, deep breath, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. She had given him a way out, but he felt a twinge of sadness for the life they’d tried and failed to build, and for the woman who’d known him well enough to let him go.

After a moment, he picked up his phone and scrolled to his agent’s number. It rang twice before Eddie answered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Franco? It’s barely morning. You okay?”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, still processing everything. “Yeah. Listen, Eddie, I need you to book me a flight.”

“A flight? Where are you going?”

“Home. To Argentina.” He paused, and for the first time in two years, the words felt right. “I just need to go home.”

Eddie hesitated on the other end. “You sure about this?”

“Yes. I’ll figure everything out when I get there,” Franco replied, feeling a resolve he hadn’t felt in years.

Eddie sighed, but there was something like approval in his voice. “Alright, I’ll get it sorted. You’ll be on a plane by tonight.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Franco hung up, glancing around the room one last time. He pocketed her note, her words still echoing in his mind.

True to Eddie's word, Franco was on a flight six hours later. The journey was a blur of cramped seats, stale air, and the faint taste of regret that clung to the back of his throat. The turbulence was relentless, like some cosmic joke, as if the universe itself wanted to remind him that nothing had ever been easy. He tried to sleep, but the aching pull of everything he’d left behind in that house—his marriage, his choices, his dreams—kept him awake, staring out at the dark sky, thinking of all the roads that had led him here.

By the time he landed in Buenos Aires and caught a car for the long drive north to his family's old village, the exhaustion had crept under his skin, weighing him down like a thousand unspoken words. But the quiet beauty of the countryside—the sun setting over fields that stretched on forever—started to soothe him, even if just a little.

The car ride seemed endless, every minute dragging with the weight of his thoughts. But when the familiar sight of his family’s village finally came into view—cobblestone streets, thatched roofs, the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air—something inside Franco began to shift. The city felt miles away, the noise, the crowds, the weight of his past life all falling away as he crossed into the place that had always felt like home.

The moment he stepped through the door of his childhood house, all of that exhaustion seemed to vanish. The house was exactly as he remembered it—warm, full of life, and alive with the kind of energy he hadn't felt in so long. His mother’s soft humming from the kitchen filled the air, the scent of her cooking familiar and comforting in a way nothing else ever had been.

“Mama?” he called, stepping into the kitchen.

She looked up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of him. It was like the years had slipped away in an instant, and before he could even move, she was across the room, enveloping him in her arms.

“Oh, hijo,” she said, pulling him in tight. “You’re home. You’re really home.”

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the comforting smells of garlic and simmering stew. It was the same as it had always been. His mother’s embrace felt like a balm, her steady, familiar presence filling up the spaces in his chest that had been empty for so long. He let himself relax into the hug, feeling like he could finally breathe again.

“Yeah, mama,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m home.”

She pulled back, looking at him with concern now, her gaze soft but knowing. “You look like you’ve been through a storm. What happened, Franco?”

He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “It’s… been a hot minute.”

She stepped back, eyes still lingering on him as she turned toward the counter, gesturing for him to sit. "Come, sit. You must be starving."

As he slid into the chair at the table, his mother’s eyes flickered to his left hand, where the ring had once sat. The absence of it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Franco," she said softly, her voice delicate but insistent, “Where’s your wedding ring?”

He froze, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the spot where the band had once been. The question hit him harder than he expected, like a weight on his chest.

He took a deep breath, his words coming out slow, almost reluctant. "I… I never loved her, Mama. Not like I should’ve. Not like I should’ve loved the person I married."

His mother didn’t flinch, didn’t offer a shocked look or try to comfort him with false reassurances. Instead, she simply nodded, as if she had known all along. The silence between them was calm, understanding.

"I knew," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I knew from the start, Franco. I could see it. You were never... you were never right with her."

He exhaled, a small weight lifting from his chest. His mother didn’t judge him. She hadn’t expected him to make some fairy tale of a marriage. She had always known him better than anyone.

"Why didn’t you say something?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

She smiled softly, her hand brushing his cheek. "You had to learn it on your own, cariño. I couldn’t take that from you."

He sat back in his chair, letting her words sink in. This was home. The quiet understanding, the unconditional love. The very things he had been running from for so long. And now, in this moment, he felt like he was finally allowed to come back to it.

His mother leaned in, brushing the hair from his forehead as if he were still that little boy who had left for the big city years ago. "You’ll be alright, Franco. I know you will. You always find your way back."

He smiled, his heart full, and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Mama," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I’m ready to find it now."

His mother studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. The comfortable silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice casual, but with a slight undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite place.

“You know, she moved back this morning,” she said, a soft note of curiosity in her tone.

Franco looked up sharply, his stomach tightening at the mention of her. “She did?”

His mother nodded, stirring a pot on the stove. He shifted in his seat, trying to steady the flutter of emotions that were beginning to rise in his chest. She was back. The thought of her living just next door made his heart ache in ways he wasn’t prepared for, especially after everything that had happened. It felt like a sign, but it also felt like a question—one he didn’t know if he was ready to answer.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “But I’m sure it’s for the best. She’s probably just trying to figure things out.”

His mother gave him a thoughtful look before turning back to the stove. "It’s not easy, you know. Coming back here after all those years. Maybe she just needs some time. Things haven't been easy for her, either."

Franco nodded absently, his mind already racing, a thousand thoughts flooding his mind. He’d always wondered what it would be like if they were close again—if the years between them could just vanish, and they could pick up where they left off. But that was before everything had changed.

Before he’d made a mess of everything.

“I’ll give her space,” he said after a long pause. “She clearly needs it if she’s come back home. I don’t want to crowd her, not like this.”

His mother looked at him for a long moment, her gaze soft and full of the kind of love only a mother could offer. She didn’t press, but Franco could tell she was seeing more in him than he was letting on. She always had that way of reading him, even when he didn’t want to be read.

“I think that’s wise, Franco,” she said quietly. “But don’t wait too long. Sometimes, the right things—people—can slip away if we don’t take the chance when we can.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes gentle but full of a mother’s wisdom. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. The right things... people. Was she talking about her?

He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he had already lost so much—lost the girl he had once called his best friend. His true love. That much was clear.

But he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with her. Not now.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t. I’ll give her the time she needs… and then, I’ll figure out what comes next.” He forced a small smile, looking back up at her. “But first, I think I need to settle in here, Mama. Just for a bit.”

She smiled warmly at him, nodding as she moved to set the table. “Take your time, cariño. You’ve earned it.” Then she added softly, almost to herself, “And when you’re ready, you know where she is.”

Franco nodded, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a promise he wasn’t sure he was ready to make. He had to sort through the years of distance, the pain, the confusion, and the mess he had made before he could even think of approaching her again.

That night the house was quiet as Franco prepared for bed, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones. The weight of the day’s emotions, of the journey—of everything—pressed on him like a physical force, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was still missing.

He stood in front of the mirror, his eyes scanning the reflection—a man who hadn’t truly looked at himself in a long time. His face was a little more worn, the years of racing and the strain of the past two had carved lines into his features. And yet, there was a boy in those eyes too—the one who used to laugh freely, who used to dream of more than just what life had given him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the quiet ache of the past two years swirling in his chest again. Where did it all go wrong? He’d asked himself this so many times, but the answer had never been clear. His life had seemed like it was on track, until it suddenly wasn’t. Until it all came crashing down, leaving him here, in his childhood home, looking at a version of himself he didn’t recognise.

Where did it all go to shit?

He turned away from the mirror, needing a moment of peace, a change of scenery. The night air felt crisp as he stepped out onto the balcony, the soft night breeze brushing against his skin. The village was quiet, the distant sound of crickets filling the silence. The stars above him were impossibly bright, as if they had been waiting for him to step out into this space to show themselves.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. The vast sky, the deep silence, the comfort of being home, of being away from all the chaos of the life he’d left behind. He closed his eyes for a beat, letting himself breathe.

Then, he froze.

From across the yard, on the roof of the house next door, a figure was sitting—her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the stars.

Franco didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. The sight of her—after all these years—was like a jolt to the chest, a flood of old memories and emotions crashing over him.

At first, he considered turning back into the house, pretending he hadn’t seen her, pretending the universe wasn’t trying to push him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on her figure, so familiar, so her. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, especially not like this. Not sitting on the roof, in the same place they used to sit together as kids, watching the stars and talking about everything and nothing.

He had no idea how to approach her.

Before he could make up his mind, she spoke, her voice drifting through the night air, quiet but unmistakable. “Staring’s rude, you know.”

Franco’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening at the sound of her voice. It had been so long since he’d heard it, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

He stayed where he was, still unsure, a little frozen by the way his heart was racing. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he finally said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

She tilted her head slightly, but didn’t look directly at him. “I always notice,” she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her tone was more playful than anything else.

He let out a small laugh, a bit surprised by her nonchalance. It was just like her to act so casual, even in the middle of something heavy.

“I wasn’t planning to interrupt,” he added, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Just thought I'd leave you to it."

She didn’t respond right away, but he could see the way her gaze flickered toward him, though she didn’t move. After a beat, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “You came home.”

“I did,” he said, his heart racing as he stood there, not knowing where to go from here. “Took me a while, but I’m here.”

She nodded, the soft rustle of her hair catching the starlight. "Good. I didn’t think you would."

Franco swallowed, the weight of the unspoken words hanging thick between them. "I... didn’t think I would either."

There was another pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... heavy, in a way that felt like they were both waiting for something. Waiting for the moment when they could go back to being what they once were. But Franco knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Too much had happened between them, too many years spent apart.

Her voice broke the quiet, her words soft but inviting. “There’s space next to me. You should come up here.”

Franco hesitated for a second longer, unsure, but something in her tone, a subtle pull, urged him forward. He glanced around briefly before deciding to take a chance.

Carefully, he climbed over the small stone wall dividing their balconies, his fingers finding familiar purchase as he pulled himself over. The moment his feet hit the roof, the memories of their childhood came rushing back—sitting on the very same roof, talking about everything and nothing, watching the stars as if they were the only two people in the world.

It felt surreal, like no time had passed at all, even though everything between them had changed.

She was already sitting cross-legged, her back turned slightly toward him, but she patted the spot next to her, silently urging him to join her. He moved toward her, then sat down, the cool roof beneath him grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

When he finally reached the top, she shifted to make room, and before he even fully settled beside her, she was resting her head on his shoulder. It was as natural as breathing, a comfort he hadn’t realised he’d been starved for.

The night seemed to stretch on forever as they sat together, not speaking, just sharing the same space, the same memories that lingered between them like a soft, delicate thread. It was as though the silence held all the things they couldn’t say out loud.

Finally, it was her who broke the quiet, her voice low and tinged with regret. “Sorry I never replied to your letter.”

Franco’s heart stuttered in his chest at the mention of the letter. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not after everything that had happened. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his voice barely a whisper. “You... you received it?”

She nodded slowly, lifting her head from his shoulder but not fully pulling away. She stared up at the stars, her fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes in the air. “Four days ago,” she said, her voice soft and distant, as though the words were hard to say.

Four days ago.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The letter. The letter he’d written years ago, before everything spiralled out of control, before the wedding, before he called it all off. The letter where he had laid bare his feelings for her—telling her everything he’d never had the courage to say before. Telling her that he loved her. That he’d leave his fiancé for her. That he wanted to be with her.

The letter had been the final step, the desperate confession that he couldn’t hold inside any longer.

“I… I didn’t know,” Franco muttered, his throat tight. “I sent it because I thought you needed to know. I thought you needed to hear it.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t expect you to just—ignore it.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and she looked over at him, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him ache. “I didn’t ignore it,” she said softly. “I didn’t know about it. Angelo hid it from me.”

Franco froze. Angelo. The same guy she’d been with all those years, the one who had kept the letter from her. The weight of it hit him hard, a cold knot in his stomach. “He hid it?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. “I only found it four days ago when I was packing.” She paused, as though weighing whether or not to say more, then sighed. “He kept it from me, Franco. Told me it was nothing, just some silly thing from the past. But it wasn’t nothing. It was you. It was everything you were trying to say. And I didn’t even know until hours before your wedding.”

Franco could feel his chest tighten, the words he had written, the words that had been locked inside of him for so long, echoing in the space between them. He had no idea she’d never received it. No idea she had been living in that oblivion, thinking that nothing had changed when, in reality, everything had been laid out for her years ago.

Franco closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. His entire life had been built around the lies he’d told himself, and in the end, he had only hurt the one person who had always been there for him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the sky, the stars so far away. “I never stopped loving you,” he said quietly, the confession falling from his lips before he could stop it. “I never stopped thinking about you, even when I thought I should. Even when I tried to move on, I always... always thought about you. About Monza.”

Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet confession in the night air. “I shouldn’t have come to that wedding,” she said, her words hanging in the space between them like a breath held too long.

Franco blinked, his heart stuttering slightly in his chest as he turned to look at her. “Why?”

She sighed, her eyes focused on the distant horizon, her expression unreadable in the soft glow of the moon. “Because I thought I was over you, Franco. I really did. I thought that seeing you get married to someone else, someone who wasn’t me, would help me move on. But when I watched you declare your love for me in front of everyone... it hit me all at once. I felt like I was coasting through a lie with Angelo for two years.”

Franco’s chest tightened at the mention of Angelo again, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew this was something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time, something they had never really spoken about. She took a slow breath, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt as she spoke again.

“I couldn’t give him all of me,” she continued, her voice wavering for the first time, just the slightest crack in her calm demeanour. “When you still had half my heart.”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat at her words. She still loved him. Despite everything, despite the time apart, despite the man she had been with, a part of her had never truly moved on.

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find the right words to express the swirl of emotions inside him. The guilt, the confusion, the longing. All he could do was listen, his heart aching with each word she spoke.

“Amor…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, trying to find his grounding. “She cheated on me. My wife.” He added as though she needed clarification.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise, but she said nothing. She waited for him to continue, her breath catching in her throat.

Franco stared out at the stars, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t feel much at first. I think I expected it. In some way, I always did. I’d been living in a marriage where I wasn’t really present for a long time.” He paused, his eyes distant as he recalled the feeling of his world unravelling. “But... when I found out, I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I had already shut myself off from it all.”

She studied him, her gaze soft but piercing. “Really? You didn’t feel... anything?”

Franco’s heart twisted, “I felt guilty,” he admitted, his voice low. "I didn’t feel hurt or anger. I just felt... guilty."

She frowned, the confusion and concern evident in her eyes. “Guilty? Why? You didn’t cheat. You weren’t the one betraying her.”

Franco chuckled bitterly, a hollow sound that felt foreign to him. “No, I didn’t cheat. But I’ve been mentally cheating on her for years now.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission slipping out before he could stop it. “With you. I’ve been thinking about you. Wanting you. Wondering... what could have been.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his confession hanging between them like an invisible force. The air was thick, heavy with the things they hadn’t said, the things they had both buried for too long.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant rustle of the trees, the wind whispering through the leaves. Then, she shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against his, tentative, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay to reach out. But Franco didn’t pull away. He let her fingers weave through his, and for a moment, they were back to the way they used to be—close, without words, just a connection that had never truly faded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking the silence again. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you. I never wanted you to feel guilty.”

Franco shook his head, his fingers tightening around hers. “You didn’t. It’s my fault. I should’ve been honest with myself. With you. With everyone.”

Her hand found his, her grip soft but reassuring. “We can’t undo the past, Franco. But maybe... maybe we can stop running from it.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe a sign that they were on the same page, that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, but the beginning of something else.

Franco’s heart skipped a beat. The ache inside him—this pull, this longing—felt more real now than it ever had before. But he couldn’t let himself get lost in it. Not yet. Not before he figured out what came next.

“Maybe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Maybe we can.”

But for now, they stayed there, hand in hand, watching the stars as the night stretched on—together, but not quite ready to bridge the distance between them. The future was uncertain, but in that moment, with her close to him again, it felt like the possibility of a new beginning was still there.

And maybe that was enough.

She shifted slightly, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she stared up at the night sky, the stars scattered above them like little pieces of a puzzle they couldn’t quite put together. Her voice broke the quiet again, this time more introspective, tinged with a kind of sadness that Franco couldn’t shake. “Why are we like this?” she asked softly, the question hanging in the air between them. “Why can’t we ever get it right? Why does it feel like we keep missing each other?”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat as he turned his head to look at her. He had no answer. No easy explanation for the years of missed opportunities, the broken promises, the things left unsaid. All he could do was let the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke, his voice thick with regret.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his words barely audible, but full of the weight of everything he had kept buried for so long.

Her hand tightened around his, her fingers warm and steady against his skin. She didn’t look at him immediately. She just stared at the stars, letting the night take them both in. But when she did speak, her voice was clear, almost a little too sharp, as if she were trying to distance herself from the ache inside.

“I know,” she said, her words simple, yet filled with the unspoken truth between them.

Franco exhaled slowly, his chest tight with the unrelenting guilt that seemed to follow him wherever he went. “I really don’t,” he added, his tone heavier this time, the words more raw, like they were scraping against his very soul.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes soft but steady as she met his gaze. “But you’ll always have me anyway,” she said, her voice gentle, almost a whisper, but strong in its promise. “All of me. Even if you think you don’t deserve it, even if you feel like you’ve lost me, I’m still here. I always will be.”

Franco closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into him, to hold on to the promise she was offering, but he knew that he had to fix everything first. He had to prove to himself, to her, that he was worthy.

After a long moment, his mind shifted, a question bubbling up to the surface, something that had been nagging at him for a while now. “What happened to Angelo?” he asked, his voice quiet, but urgent with curiosity.

Her gaze flickered away, her expression becoming unreadable for a brief second. She didn’t speak at first, but then, she sighed, her voice small as she turned her head back toward the night sky.

“He proposed,” she said softly, her words hitting Franco like a punch to the gut. “He got down on one knee, right there in the middle of a restaurant, and asked me to marry him.”

Franco’s heart sank. He had imagined the two of them together, but hearing her speak those words, hearing the finality in her tone, made something inside him shift. His breath caught in his throat.

“And you didn’t say yes,” he whispered, the realisation washing over him slowly, painfully.

She shook her head, her fingers grazing the edge of her sleeve as she gathered her thoughts. “I couldn’t bring myself to say yes,” she murmured, her voice distant, like the memory still held weight over her. “I couldn’t lie to him, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Not after everything. I just... I couldn’t. And when I looked at him, I knew something wasn’t right. I knew that the whole time, I had been lying to both of us, pretending that he was enough when I wasn’t even sure of myself.”

Franco felt his chest tighten, his heart aching with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for Angelo, for her, or for himself, but it felt like the right thing to say. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there beside him, her head back on his shoulder, her fingers still twined with his. The night stretched on, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but there was something in the air that felt different now. It wasn’t just the weight of their shared history or the unsaid words that hovered between them. There was something else.

Something that, for the first time, felt like the beginning of something new.

After a while, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when you’re still here, not when you’ve always been here, Franco.”

Franco closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the curve of her hand. “I understand,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he did. He wasn’t sure of anything right now except that he needed to make it right—whatever that looked like.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the quiet stretching between them, neither of them in a rush to break the stillness. The night air was cool against their skin, and the stars above seemed to twinkle with the same quiet understanding that hung in the air. For the first time in years, it felt like they were both exactly where they were meant to be—together.

But slowly, the rhythm of her breathing changed, softening, slowing. Franco felt it before he saw it, the gentle shift in the weight on his shoulder. He glanced down, his heart softening at the sight of her—her lashes fluttering closed, her face serene and peaceful in sleep. She was completely relaxed, as if the weight of everything had been lifted, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t move, didn’t want to disturb the quiet that had settled between them. But as minutes ticked by, he knew it was time to move her. Carefully, he slipped his arm beneath her, lifting her gently, cradling her close. Her head rested on his chest as he stood, her body instinctively curling against him. She felt weightless in his arms, and for a second, he couldn’t believe how natural it all felt.

As he carried her through the door to her room, the familiar smell of her childhood home wrapped around him—the scent of lavender and old wood, a place both foreign and intimately familiar. The room was just as he remembered, simple and cosy, with little traces of her scattered throughout. He looked down at the floor he used to sleep on when they were young The soft, pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting everything in a gentle glow.

He placed her gently in the bed, tucking the covers around her small frame. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her, his chest heavy with emotion. Everything about this felt so right, so painfully wrong at the same time. He should have been here years ago. He should have never let things get so far. But now, he was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there for a second longer than he meant to, his heart aching with all the things he never said.

Just as he turned to leave, to head back to his own house, her voice stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Franco froze. His hand rested on the window frame , his heart stalling in his chest. He turned slowly, not sure if he had heard her correctly.

“What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure.

She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was something in her gaze—vulnerable, raw, but full of longing. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t watch you walk away again. Please don’t.”

For a moment, Franco stood there, his chest tight as he processed her words. Don’t go. It was all he needed to hear. She didn’t want him to leave. After everything that had happened, after all the distance between them, she still wanted him here.

He walked back toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t need to say anything; the weight of the moment, the look in her eyes, said it all. He carefully slid under the covers, settling beside her, the warmth of her body so familiar yet so new.

Without a word, she shifted, curling into him, her head finding its place on his chest, her hand resting gently against his side. Franco wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. It wasn’t a perfect moment, but it was real. And it was theirs.

They stayed there, the rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. No more words were needed. No more distance. Just the two of them, together, holding on to each other like they were afraid to let go.

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the covers, Franco realised that this moment—this feeling of being home—was everything he had been searching for.

Home.

Her.

It was all synonymous.

She was his home.

the end.

taglist: @sp1rl @yennasaurusrex @ellen3101 @firefirevampire @directioner5life @littlegrapejuice @obxstiles @scopeiguess @newlifeforus @justsisse @zestytimbit @taygrls @charlosvibesonly @sparkleofpizza

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stxrslut · 1 day ago

Text

LET HIM REST 𐙚⋆.˚

pairing; s4 jj maybank x cupcake!reader

summary; it's safe to say jj may have crashed out tonight, and you are the only person he can turn to. so you make it your goal to get him taken care of, and at least a little content after the turmoil of tonight

content; hand job, mommy kink, titty sucking, adjacent to s4 plot

authors note; as much as I am a season 4 hater I did happen to find a small bit of inspiration from it... so without further ado...

jj is pacing around your room, hands on the back of his head, breathing erratically. you’re sitting on your bed. his boots are loud against the wood floor which is the exact opposite of what he’s supposed to be being right now. he’s supposed to be laying low and that involves staying quiet so that anyone going past or around the house wouldn’t hear him.

“jay.. just.. just sit down.” you sigh, trying to get him to be calm, but he doesn’t listen. he’s limping a little, only because he’d jumped off a roof after starting a whole fucking riot, not a big deal at all.

god, if you weren’t being the responsible one here you’d burst out crying. he’s being so frustrating, you need him to be calm so you can be calm.

“can’t— I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore!” he yells and kicks the wall, making you flinch. you need him to calm down.

“jj.. jj please. please sit down.” you stand now, placing a hand on his arm only to be pushed away. you sigh, “jj.” the agitation in your voice is made obvious by the weary sigh you let out.

“shit.” he kicks the wall again, it cracks a little. you’re not sure if it’s sweat or tears coating his cheeks, maybe both.

“come here jj,” you pull him back, speaking with only a little forcefulness in your voice. “please sit down… please.. let me help you.”

he complies, though he’s still agitated and probably still ready to break something. you guide him to sit down on the bed where you were before and then you take a place next to him. you put an arm around him and rest your head on his shoulder in an act of attempted comfort for both him and you.

jj reaches a breaking point right about now, you think. now it is tears. you're certain of it as his breath becomes ragged and his body begins to shake with small sobs that he's trying ever so hard to hold back.

“jj… oh jj dont cry.” you rub his side. you feel so much sympathy for him in this moment, his whole world has fallen apart in the last few days. there's no legitimate solution that you can offer him. the least you can do at this point is try to help him get his mind off of it. “what do you need? tell me what you need, jj.”

he sniffles, “just.. just don’t wanna think about it okay. don’t wanna talk.” okay, you can do that, you can not talk. you press your lips into the side of his arm. he needs a distraction, you can do distraction.

“hey… why don't i look after you for a bit… take your mind off it.” your hand goes to rest on his leg as you look up at him from where you are. his eyes are red and sore, filled with excess tears.

he sniffles almost pitifully but he nods, realising now just how much he needs a distraction. “yeah,” his voice is breathless, from the tears and the yelling. “please.”

your hand begins to run up his leg, stopping when it reaches the top of the zipper on his jeans. “just concentrate on me, okay. i'm gonna take real good care of you baby.” you pull it down, revealing his boxers which you also pull down by the waistband.

he exhales shakily, leaning back on his arms. you pull him out of his pants and slowly begin to work him with your hands. it doesn't take much to arouse him, despite all the turmoil, it's still jj.

you start to jerk him off, slowly at first, you don’t want it to be over too quickly. when you’re sure he’s ready you begin to move.

you guide him and reposition gently to have him laying down on his back, you get onto your side next to him. your hand keeps working on his dick with a practised skill.

you don’t quite notice when his hand comes up to tug on the neck of your shirt. it takes you a moment to realise what he wants, but when you do you’re happy to comply. you pull the clothing off, revealing your tits to him. his lips part and he moved himself over to easily attach his lips to your nipple.

“mmh.. m— ma-” he’s babbling incoherently, but it’s okay, you know what he wants to say. you’ll let him say it.

“it’s okay baby… mama’s gonna take care of you. s’all gonna be okay.” you murmur, free hand tangling in his hair whilst you keep jerking him off.

his whole body is reacting. his hips buck and jerk and his stomach ripples though you don’t see it through his clothes. he keeps letting out noises too, whimpers and whines, ones you know that he only lets out when he really needs to.

you don’t care that your nipple will be sore after this, you don't care that your arm will ache from moving it like this, you don’t care that you’re not receiving an ounce of pleasure. you love this boy, you need to take care of him otherwise you’ll be good for nothing.

jj’s hips move more, you can tell he’s approaching a much needed climax. you keep going until he cums, making a mess on the sheets and both of your clothes but you don’t care.

“oh.. there you go.” you make sure he rides it out, and when he does you let go and bring your hand up to rub his side.

“felt good.” he breathes out, his mouth is still not fully detached from your boob but you pay no mind, he has needs.

“yeah.. I’m glad.. you just relax now okay.. just relax.” you stroke his head as he settles down to shut his eyes. he’s still messy but it’s okay, you’ll clean him up when he’s asleep. get him changed too, his clothes are mucked up and ripped.

but for now, just for now, you’re going to let him rest.

#jj maybank prompt #cupcake!reader #jj maybank concept #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fic

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straylightdream · 1 day ago

Text

body and soul

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: jeon wonwoo x f.reader

↳ after a terrible day at work there is nothing more he wants then to go on a motorcycle ride with you.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: soulmates au?, non idol au, established relationship

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨��𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much fluff, they’re both so incredibly down bad for each other, wonwoo rides a motorcycle (I don’t know if that’s a warning), teasing, smut warning below the cut

𝐚𝐧: this can be read as a one shot but it’s also connected to king of my heart, but you don’t need to read that to understand this story. Thank you @whimsical-whatever so much for helping me figure out this story.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: creampie, wonwoo has breeding kink even though he doesn’t want to admit it, sex outside (but no one is around) sex against a brick wall, lingerie kink, cum play, oral in the shower (him rec), possibly snowballing

Sometimes after a long day Wonwoo likes to go on motorcycle rides to just release stress. Once he met you he realized being around you took all the weight off his shoulder whenever he was stressed. He still absolutely loved riding his bike. He loves when he gets to ride with you sitting behind holding on to him. There is nothing quite like the feeling of him riding while your arms are wrapped tightly around him.

A shitty day at work led him to going straight to your apartment instead of his own. He knew Mingyu was home from work already and his girlfriend was over.

He’s been with you for almost two years now and he doesn’t even bother knocking; he'd just type in his key code you gave him. He finds you sitting at the kitchen table with your laptop in front of you. Even when you weren’t on the clock you were always looking at work related things at home.

“Baby,” he smiles as you look up.

“Hey Wonwoo,” you smile back.

“Can you go on a ride with me?” He doesn’t want to think about work, he just wants to not think at all and ride his bike with you.

“Yeah, let me change real quick.” You’re dressed in a small pair of lounge shorts that aren’t suitable for riding.

He sets his helmet down on your coffee table and sits down on your big couch near the window. He spends a few minutes browsing through his phone and letting Mingyu know he has the apartment to himself tonight. He doesn’t plan on sleeping in his own bed. He much rather sleeping here with you.

You walk out into the living room dressed in joggers and a jacket. Holding the bike helmet Wonwoo got you. Very early on in your relationship he bought you your own motorcycle helmet. He loved being able to go on rides with you.

He stands up and grabs your hand leading you out of the apartment.

Riding down the street your arms are wrapped tightly around his waist as your head rests against his back. You feel at ease just being with him like this.

Something about Wonwoo always makes you feel like you’re whole. That something deep inside of you was missing before him. If soulmates are real you know he’s yours.

Before him you had never ridden on a motorcycle and now it’s one of your favorite ways to travel with him.

The first drop of water you felt left you confused. Glancing, you saw the dark clouds above you. You didn’t bother looking at the weather but it hasn’t rained recently.

Within moments it starts to pour. Your outfit was not fit for the rain.

“What the fuck,” Wonwoo says loud enough for you to hear over his bike.

He sees some buildings that look closer. Quickly he pulls his bike into a covered dark all that’s absolutely empty. He helps you off the bike and unbuckles your helmet. You pull it off handing it to him. You can’t help but feel cold with how wet you got in that unexpected downpour.

“Baby I didn’t think it was supposed to rain.” He reaches up pushing the rain for your cheeks.

“It’s okay.”

“I think we’re stuck here for a while. It looks like all these businesses are closed.”

You can’t help but shake a little. You definitely weren’t dressed for the rain and your joggers you wore are wet and sticking to your skin. “Baby I’m sorry,” he takes your helmet from your hands and sets it on the back of his bike. He wastes no time pulling you close to his body. “Let me warm you up.” He holds you close, rubbing your body. He leans his head down resting his face against your neck. He doesn’t kiss your neck but his lips gently brush the sensitive spot on your neck that always turns you on. A soft gasp passes your lips.

“I didn’t mean to touch there,” he whispers against the sensitive spot. His large hands continue to rub your back as you hold him close. His breath keeps hitting the sensitive side of your neck turning you on. He’s managing to get you wet without trying.

Without thinking you grind your hips forward hoping for some sort of friction.

A soft moan passes your lips. “Does someone like it when I’m close to her neck?” He says with his lips ghosting your sensitive spot.

“Fuck-“

“You know we’re away from anyone who can see. We’re behind a building facing a forrest.” You know exactly what he’s insinuating. And at the moment you don’t care that you could possibly get caught. You just want Wonwoo to fuck you.

“Baby,” you whimper. With his fingers tangled in your hair he walks you back to the brick wall behind you. His hands protect your head and he gently pushes you against the wall.

“Are you going fuck me against this wall?”

He swallows staring at you with lust filled eyes, “fuck I want to.”

“What happened to your breeding kink being your only thing that makes you kinky?” You tease.

“Does it me fucking you against this wall make me kinky?”

“I think so,” you smile.

“Also it’s not a breeding kink.” He says between kisses against your jaw.

“You’re obsessed with cumming inside me.” You give him a smile.

“I’m not trying to get you pregnant though?” His eyes narrow at you.

“We can agree to disagree,” you crash your lips into his once again.

Pulling away from you he makes quick work by pushing off your joggers. He unbuckled belt and pushes down his jeans and boxers just below his ass. His hard cock slaps against his stomach. If you weren’t out in broad daylight you would get down on your knees and suck the life out of him.

“Are you going to leave my underwear on?” You notice that he left you in your pink thong.

“Pull it to the side for me,” he says as he pumps himself a few times.

“Are we going to talk about your lingerie kink?” You have no problem with him fucking you while you’re still wearing your panties. It actually turns you on to for some reason. Maybe you also have a lingerie kink.

“You’re being extra sassy today,” he steps closer, lifting your leg.

“What can I say I get turned on when you get flustered.” You pull your panties to the sides.

He thrust into you causing a gasp to pass your lips.

Pressed up against the wall he has your leg under his arm. This isn’t the easiest angle to work with, but he’s not gonna let it stop him. In the two years you’ve been together you’ve never had sex outdoors like this where someone could see you if they went behind the buildings where the alley was. You’ve definitely had a sex in the back seat of Wonwoo’s car before, but that’s different from this. Something about this turns you on more than you ever thought it could. The angle he’s thrusting into you has his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit.

Your head leans back resting against the brick wall taking in the sensation. Leaning forward you sloppily kiss him. His thrusts are quicker than normal. Ramming up into you over and over. You’re pretty sure he’s nudging your cervix with each thrust. Covering your mouth you try your hardest not scream his name. You might be alone out here, but if people hear you screaming and moaning they might come see what is happening.

“Fuck-“ you whimper.

“You feel tighter than normal,” he moans. Your hand talons into his shoulder holding on to him for dear life. The way he’s thrusting into you hitting the perfect spot has your toes curling. His pelvis continues to rub your clit leaving you gasping.

The sound of the echoing rain is helping to drown out your moans. You can’t keep quiet.

“I’m close,” you whine.

“Please come with,” he moans.

A white hot wave washes over you. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair pulling him closer to you. He paints your walls white and continues to slowly thrust up into you riding out his high. His lips are leaving sloppy kisses against the sensitive skin in your neck.

“I don’t have anything to clean you up with,” he says softly as he’s still snug inside you.

“It’s okay it’s not the first I’m going to be walking around with you cum inside me.” You’ve had sex a handful times in bathrooms at parties the boys have thrown leaving you in this same predicament.

“We can take a hot shower when we get back to your place and I’ll clean you up.”

The rain finally let up and after an hour of huddling against Wonwoo and talking it was finally safe to ride back to your apartment.

He kept his word and the moment you were inside he dragged you off to take a hot shower together.

You shower couldn’t even start innocently. The moment the water was warm enough you were on your knees in front of him. He gently held your hair away from your face as your took him in your mouth as much as he would fit. You hand rest on his thigh while the other plays with his balls. You know exactly what to do to make him fall apart quickly.

You look up at him through your lashes. He looks beautiful in his lust filled haze. “Baby pull off if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth,” he moans.

You continue your motion. You were never a fan of giving someone head let alone swallowing before you met him. Now going down on him is one of your favorite things to do. Glancing up and looking for see his stomach muscles tighten letting you know he’s on the brink. His grip on your hair tightens and he moans your name loudly. He fills your mouth with his salty release. You release him from your mouth with a pop. Without a second thought you swallow everything he gave you.

He helps you to your feet and crashes his lips into yours not caring if he taste himself on you. He holds your face with both hands.

“I love you so much,” he says against your lips.

“I love you too.”

“Let me clean you up and wash your hair.”

He keeps his promise from the alley and cleans your body before he’s standing behind you massaging your strawberry shampoo into your hair.

“Wonwoo would you ever think about moving out of your apartment with Mingyu?” You asked him the question that has been on your mind for a while.

“It depends, are you asking me to move in with you?” His fingers are still massaging your scalp.

“I mean I live alone and we could set your computer up in my small office. I don’t mind working in the kitchen when I get to work from home.” This feels odd you aren’t facing each other while you’re having this conversation. You didn’t plan on talking about this in the shower but this has been constantly on your mind.

“Have you been thinking about this a lot?” It’s almost as if he can read your mind. “Baby turn around and rinse your hair.”

Stepping away from him you let the warm water wash the shampoo away from your hair. “Well yeah. Also don’t you feel like at some point Mingyu is going to want to live with his girlfriend?” You work on getting the shampoo out of your hair.

“Probably.” He seems so calm.

“Do you not want to move in now? We could always discuss this later.” You suddenly feel anxious that he’s not ready. Maybe you’re thinking too far ahead. You step out from the water and step closer to him where he’s holding your conditioner.

He gives you a smile pushing some wet hair behind your ear. “Baby, of course I want to move in with you. It would be nice for us to have a place just for us.”

“Okay I would like for us to live together,” you smile.

“Does that mean we always get to sleep naked?” He gives you a goofy smile. Of course that’s one of his first questions.

“Of course. Does that mean I’m going to wake up to you fucking me all the time?” You gave permission to Wonwoo very early on in your relationship that if wanted to start having sex with you while you’re asleep he can. There isn’t anything quite like waking up to him pushing into you from behind while you sleep.

“Obviously, now turn around so I can finish your hair.”

Things with Wonwoo are always easy. For some reason they always have been. He’s your person, it’s almost as if you were made for each other. You’re excited for your next step in your relationship and you can’t wait to see what the future holds.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #wonwoo imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #wonwoo x you #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo x you #wonwoo insert reader #wonwoo fanfiction #jeon wonwoo fanfiction #my writing #SVT #all for you #king of my heart #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut

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darlingdaisyfarm · 1 day ago

Note

Spicy chatting with Stan and Ford? Consider this ask my vote for that ❤️💙

(Love your writing, I've lurked for a while and finally remembered to follow)

sexting Stan and Ford headcanons

2 part of this

also thank you so much <3 im so glad to know you enjoy my writing !

tagging : @nekovmancer

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines

✧ he tries. god, does he try. but his texts are a combination of filthy and absolutely unhinged, it’s straight to “doll im sittin' here thinkin’ 'bout how good you’d look bent over my desk.”

✧ typically sends a blurry pic of his bare chest, captioned, “betcha wanna get your hands on this masterpiece, huh?" and you’re just staring at the picture like. . . gosh, Stan, who took this? did he set a fucking timer? he looks hot though

✧ so yeah Stanley sends you photos, usually unprompted and always blurry because he’s just an old man, dear, what did you except?? his clothes half-open, pants unzipped just enough to give you a peek of what’s underneath and next message is: “betcha wanna see the whole thing, huh? be a good girl and ask nice.”

✧ texts you in the middle of the day: “gonna bend you over the kitchen counter tonight babe. make you cum on my fingers before I even think about putting my cock in you. whaddaya think?”

✧ he loves it when you’re bold, you send him something like: “what if I sit on your face instead?” and he’s instantly typing back: “doll, don’t threaten me with a good time. ya know I’d keep ya there till your legs give out.”

✧ Stan worships your photos. you send him a quick pic of you in bed and he replies immediately: “FUCK look at you. LOOK at THAT body. im gonna make you regret sending me that when im back. you better be ready for this cock, doll, ‘cause im not holding back.”

✧ a huge tease tbh, he wants you to beg. “tell me what you want, sweetheart. you want me to spread those legs and eat you out until you’re shaking? or maybe you want this thick cock filling you up?“

✧ “you’re touching yourself right now, aren’t ya? cant stop thinkin bout me pounding into you, huh? go ahead, baby. lemme know how bad you want it.”

✧ he’s got no shame about jerking off while texting you, you say one dirty thing, and he’s already: “jesus fucking christ, you’re killin me here, doll. im so fuckin hard right now. If you were here, I’d have you on your knees, taking care of me like the good girl you are.”

✧ Stan’s aftercare starts in the texts. so after he’s talked you through your orgasm, his messages turn soft. “that’s my girl, bet you look real pretty all flushed and satisfied. get some rest, doll you’re gonna need it when I get home.”

✧ Stan LOVES it when you play hard to get. “cmon, baby, don’t leave me hangin’. I swear, I’ll make it worth your while when I get my hands on you again.” but when you finally cave and give him a little, just a little, taste of what you want, his reply is “yeah that’s better, let me see that pussy of yours. you know I can make you feel good. let me prove it.”

✧ as you have already understood, this man is shameless, and he knows he’s good at getting under your skin.

“been thinkin’ about that pretty little cunt of yours, doll. what’s it gonna take to get my face buried there tonight?

✧ if you send him something back, it’s over. he’s going to double down with something that makes your toes curl. “you don’t know how badly I wanna fuck that smart mouth of yours until you forget your own name.”

✧ the man is a sucker for dirty talk. he loves it when you tease him back, but he’s the most eloquent in his replies

✧ “If I was there right now, you wouldn’t be able to get a single word out. id have you moanin’ so loud they’d hear you down the street. you like the sound of that?”

✧ “you know I could really go for you in that tiny skirt of yours right now. make you bend over and fuck you while you’re still wearin’ it.” damn

✧ he’s a man of action. his texts are short and right to the point. “im gonna make you scream my name tonight, sweetheart. better be ready.”

✧ sends you something filthy right out of the blue. "you’re really makin' it hard for me to concentrate on work, baby. every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is the way you looked last night, riding me till you couldn’t walk.”

✧ if you send him a picture, especially if you’re in lingerie or something that shows just the right amount of skin, he goes wild. “WOAH, sweetheart. you’re gonna make me LOSE IT. I wanna tear that off you and fuck you right here RIGHTJ NOW.” the author's spelling has been preserved.

✧ a lot messages like: “tell me, doll, what color are those panties you got on right now?“

✧ but the minute you call him on his antics in person, he’s all cocky smirks and “ya can’t blame me for wantin’ to spoil my favorite girl, can ya?”

bonus

Stan: hey doll, you up?

You: it’s 1 AM Stan

Stan: exactly

Stan: perfect time to talk about what you’d look like on top of me

You: …smooth

Stan: c’mon don’t act all shy

Stan: you were thinkin’ it too. bet you’re wearin’ somethin’ cute right now, huh?

Stan: or nothin’. nothin’s good too! 👍👍👍

You: why are you always texting me at the most unholy hours?

Stan: unholy?? c’mon sweetheart i’m just here tryna spread a little late night joy

Stan: i was thinkin’ about you though

Stan: well. you. and about how that sweet little mouth of yours looked last night

You: oh my godd

Stan: what?! it’s the truth

Stan: bet you’d look even better right now

You: you’re horrible

Stan: and you’re fuckin’ gorgeous

Stan: now be a good girl and tell me what you’re wearin

You: literally in my pajamas Stan

Stan: cute

Stan: betcha look sweet all wrapped up in blankets… though you’d look sweeter wrapped around me instead

You: fuck

You: Stan!

Stan: what? i’m just bein’ honest. you want me to lie? fine! i’m thinkin’ about taxes. there. happy?

You: oh, shut up old man

Stan: nah i’d rather talk about how soft your thighs are. how they’d feel so good squeezin’ around my head. c’mon, sweetheart, gimme somethin’. don’t make me do all the heavy liftin’ here

You: only if you promise to return the favor

you smirk, biting your lip, already excited because god you love playing hard to get with this man. so you let the moment linger just long enough to make him squirm before snapping a photo, of course you were lying bout pajamas and Stan damn knew, he felt

you send the picture: lacy panties of your favourite colour barely covering anything, paired with an oversized sleep shirt that’s slipping off your shoulder

Stan: holy fuckin shit

Stan: you’re gonna make an old man’s heart give out

You: what, you don’t like it? :(

Stan: don’t like it? baby i’m gonna FRAME this picture and hang it on my wall

Stan: better yet i’m gonna print it out and carry it around so i can show off what’s mine

You: wtf that’s absurd

Stan: no what’s absurd is how hard i am right now. fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous. every inch of ya

You: your turn, old man

You: prove it

you don’t expect him to actually follow through, but then your phone buzzes

Stan: look at what you’re gonna get, babe. and it’s all yours

a photo. exactly what you imagined: poorly lit, shot from a slightly awkward angle, but still breathtaking and so damn hot. his cock is thick and heavy in his hand, flushed and glistening at the tip, veins are prominent, pulsing down the shaft, and his fingers, broad, calloused, strong, wrap around it like he’s ready to ruin you as he strokes himself

your mouth goes dry, you blink at the screen, your lip caught between your teeth. hell, you’ve seen him before, touched him, tasted him, but this photo is something else entirely. your fingers twitch like they want to reach through the phone because you’d crawl through the damn screen if you could

your fingers hover over the keys, trying to think of something clever to say, but the words won’t come. thighs clenching instinctively as you just stare at the screen.

You: okay, not bad, old man

Stan: NOT BAD?!

Stan: sweetheart, you’re lyin’ through your teeth. i know you’re sittin’ there soakin’ through those little lace panties of yours

You: please, you think one dick pic is enough to faze me

Stan: oh, is that right? big talk comin’ from someone who’s gonna be beggin’ for it by the end of this

You: you wish old man

Stan: nah I know. let me paint you a picture, sweetie

Stan: you, spread out under me, that pretty little pussy so wet i can hear it every time i slide in. your legs wrapped so tight around me like you’re scared i’m gonna pull away. and me, fillin’ you up so deep you can feel me in your fuckin’ throat

and there your smugness falters

You: oh god

You: Stan

Stan: what’s the matter?

Stan: cat got your tongue? betcha you’re soaked right now, huh? sittin’ there with that pretty little pussy all wet, wishin’ i was there to fill ya up

Stan: admit it, baby. your fingers aren’t even enough. you’re mine. every inch of you belongs to me and i’m gonna remind you of that the second i get my hands on ya

You: you’re not winning this old man

Stan: heh sweetheart, i already HAVE

your fingers fumble on the keyboard as you type, cheeks burning

You: please come

Stan: there you go, now that’s my girl

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines

✧ he starts out so awkward it’s painful. you’ll send him something suggestive, and he’ll reply with: “Oh. Well. That’s… intriguing.” Intriguing, Ford? seriously?

✧ as we all know, Ford overthinks everything! it takes him forever to hit send because he’s convinced he’ll say something wrong and he’s so fucking nervous

✧ but as soon as he feels comfortable, he’s sending you long, well thought out messages full of science-y talk about how he wants to make you feel, because of course he’s analyzing you in a way. “I’ve been reading up on the physiological responses of the body during… how should I put this?… intimate interactions. Your body would likely respond most positively to the—” and then he gets really filthy without realizing it

✧ but Ford, dear sweet Ford, doesn’t always realize just how much of an effect his words have on you. if he’ll start spouting off his deep thoughts, you’ll send him, “Ford, I swear to god, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to need to change my sheets.

✧ absolutely loves when you tease him, but he also knows how to turn it back on you. “Good girl, now tell me exactly what you’d like me to do to you, in vivid detail. I’m taking notes.”

✧ "I’d have you on your knees, darling. Holding you by the hair while I take you deep, slow. You’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you?"

✧ Ford LOVES playing the “I’m going to ruin you slowly” card. It gets under your skin every time. “You won’t be able to think about anything else when I’m done with you. I’ll have you begging for more.”

✧ you’ll send him a flirty text and two minutes later, he’s sent back an entire paragraph detailing how he’d peel your clothes off and worship you from head to toe

✧ as I said, he’s so damn descriptive, I mean bro literally wrote 3 journals, it’s easy for him. “I’d kiss my way down your stomach, slow enough to make you squirm. My fingers would trace your thighs, spreading you open so I could take my time tasting you, savoring every—” you’re already screaming into your pillow

✧ surprisingly filthy when he gets really needy and horny. long messages about exactly what he wants to do to you or what he wants you to do to him

✧ Ford is a huge fan of getting into your mind before he even thinks about touching you. he wants to know what makes you tick, what gets you wet, what turns you on mentally first

✧ he tries to stay composed, but the second you tease him, his composure shatters. you send him a pic, maybe just a peek of your thighs and he’s breathless: “What are you doing to me, darling? Do you have any idea how hard I am right now? I can’t stop imagining those legs wrapped around me while I’m making love to you, God help me.”

✧ “i would love to feel the warmth of your skin beneath my fingers as I slowly undress you. I’ll start by trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, until I reach the sweet spot between your thighs. Would you let me do that, darling?”

✧ embarrassingly vocal about how much he needs you. you’ll get texts like:

“I can’t concentrate on anything. I keep thinking about how tight and wet you felt around me last night. We need to make love again.” and then, seconds later:

“Please tell me you’re touching yourself right now. I need to know you’re thinking about me while you do it.”

✧ “God, I’d give anything to have my cock inside you right now.”

✧ If you send him a spicy picture, he just about short-circuits. “You’re exquisite. I need to see more.”

✧ “You don’t even realize the effect you have on me, do you? I’d ruin you in the most wonderful ways, darling.” you’re a puddle in seconds.

✧ Ford loves when you’re explicit with him. if you’ll text him something like: “I want your cock so deep I forget my own name,” you’ll get: “Careful what you wish for, darling. I’ll have you screaming it by the time I’m done with you.”

✧ If you ever send him something too really dirty, all your fantasies and wishes, expect him to stare at your text, blink for a second, then type back: “That’s... unexpected. But I’m very intrigued. You must have an incredible imagination.”

✧ sometimes Ford gets real quiet after a particularly hot conversation, nervous even. “I shouldn’t have sent that… I’m sorry if I…”

“Ford, don’t you dare apologize. I love it.”

bonus

Ford: Are you still awake, darling?

You: what do you think?

Ford: Well, considering you’re answering me, I’d say yes. I must say, you’ve been a distraction all day, sweetheart. I just keep replaying the way your skin felt under my hands the last time we touched… the sounds you made when I kissed you, your thighs.

You: sounds like you’re the distracted one, Doctor Pines

Ford: You’re the most beautiful distraction imaginable. Entirely your fault.

you smirk at the screen as an idea strikes

You: how’s this for distracting?

you send the picture: legs spread wide, your pussy glistening under soft light with two fingers pressing yourself open just enough to expose everything. you know Ford’s obsessive attention to detail, the way he adores every curve and line of you. oh god he’ll lose his mind over this

but. . .

Ford doesn’t reply immediately. one minute. two now. the anticipation builds and your stomach twists.

You: …

You: Ford?

You: oh my god, say something!

You: was it too much? too forward?

five agonising minutes later, your phone lights up.

Ford: Darling… You are beautiful. Utterly perfect. Forgive my silence, I needed a moment to… compose myself.

You: five minutes of silence isn’t exactly reassuring, Ford

Ford: I assure you, I was not silent in my head.

You: damn

You: thought I broke you there

Ford: You nearly did. It’s taking all my willpower to stay coherent.

You: old man ur making me blush

Ford: I’m sorry! I wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you, my dear. I’d rather make you tremble with pleasure.

You: you really like it that much?

Ford: I’m obsessed, love. Now, listen carefully. Take those fingers, sweetheart. Slowly. I want you to trace circles around your little clit, soft and teasing. No rushing.

and of course you obey

You: im so sensitive rn Ford

Ford: Good, honey. Yeah, nice and slow.

You: like this?

Ford: Exactly like that. Does it feel good, darling? Tell me.

You: so good im already so wet for you

Ford: Good. Now, slide one of those fingers inside. Don’t go too deep yet. Just enough to feel it.

You: fuck, Ford

You: feels amazin

Ford: That’s my girl. Now, add another. Stretch yourself out for me, darling. I want you to imagine it’s my fingers instead. Feel how I’d curl my fingers to touch you just right, all your sweet spots. Don’t stop until I tell you to.

You: :((

Ford: Sweetheart? What’s wrong?

You: it’s not the same

You: you’ve got six fingers, i can’t make it feel like you

Ford: Ah, my darling… that’s terribly unfair of me, isn’t it? You’re right. No one else can touch you the way I can. But I promise, when I’m there, I’ll make it up to you tenfold. For now, let’s keep going. I want you to use your fingers, sweetheart. Make yourself feel good for me, pleasure yourself. Please. Slide them deep and tell me how it feels.

#gravity falls #x reader #gravity falls smut #gravity falls x you #ford pines x reader #stan pines x reader #ford pines smut #stan pines smut #ford pines x you #stan pines x you #grunkle stan #stanley pines x reader #stanford pines x reader

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01zfan · 2 days ago

Text

that's my floor | j. sc

sungchan x reader | 5.8k words

another commission! inspired by that's my floor by magdalena bay.

contains: hooking up at a house party, yearning, hopeless pining, dry humping, fingering

You wanted Sungchan to catch you for the longest. The first year of classes you wanted him to look over his shoulder two rows behind him and catch you looking at him. You wanted him to catch you in the grassy quad with your group of friends, you wanted him to catch you at the million other functions you both happened to be at the same time.

So when you were hiding in the corner of the kitchen where a week prior all that want reared its ugly head, the last thing you expected was to hear his voice behind you.

“I’ve been trying to catch you all night.” He said.

Still facing away from Sungchan, you prayed he was talking to someone else. Even though the kitchen was empty, and you approached him first a week ago, you prayed that you were hearing things.

But when you still felt his presence behind you, and you felt his hand reach out to your shoulder, you knew it was real. You had no choice but to turn around slowly, fixing the look of horror on your face to show surprise.

“I didn’t know you were here.” You said.

You knew Sungchan was here. He was the first person you saw when you walked in. He was the first person you always looked for when you would come to Wonbin’s parties. He was standing in the same place he was last week, right past the doorframe where the living room turned into the hallway that led to the bathrooms and bedrooms. That was always the place he gravitated towards at Wonbin’s house parties. The spot was where Sungchan and his friends usually convened, in between their runs to the kitchen for more alcohol or into the living room for snacks and entertainment.

Usually, you stayed on the opposite side. Leaned up against the wall underneath the fairy light decorations. A drink in your hand and Wonbin at your side, subtly trying to corral you to the other side of the room by nudging your shoulder and flicking his head.

“I’m not doing it.” You said sternly.

You nursed your drink and avoided looking directly at Sungchan like your life depended on it. Your other hand was picking at the end of your skirt nervously at the mere thought of walking over to him. You kept your eyes absentmindedly forward, looking through the throngs of people not letting your gaze settle on one spot for too long.

“Just go talk to him.” Wonbin spoke directly in your ear over the loud music. “You always talk about talking to him.” He said.

Sungchan leaned against the white wall the same way you leaned against the counter in the corner of the kitchen, but he wasn’t cowering or hiding by any means. He talked to anyone that approached him, forcing those trying to navigate the space to squeeze against the wall to get by. Sungchan noticed each time, gently grabbing his friends arm to move them out of the way so people could pass by freely. He smiled at whoever was going each time they said thank you, and shook his head gently each time they tried to apologize.

For a moment you entertain talking to him. You could weave through the crowd of your mutual friends to act like you’re getting something from the snack table that sits next to the doorway. A white blanket resting over an outdoor table with chips and cookies, you could linger around, faking curiosity until you heard a break in Sungchan’s conversation. You could swoop in once one of his friends left, mentioning the class you had together or that you two always conveniently went to the corner store near campus at the same time.

But then you imagined getting so nervous you’d stumble over your words, or just linger at the table before psyching yourself out and going right back to your side of the living room. The thought of it makes you shake your head and turn your gaze back to the kitchen island that was filled with bottles of liquor.

“Absolutely not.” You say.

Wonbin is all but convinced. He shakes his head when you speak, looking towards you but pointing in the general direction of Sungchan.

“He’s actually a really sweet guy.” Wonbin says.

You focus on him again. He stands past the lights that hang from the walls in the living room, but when he leans forward or bends down to engage in conversation, the light illuminates the softest parts of his face. You have no doubt in your mind he’s sweet. You have known Sungchan for the better part of four years, starting from your first year in college all the way to your last. At orientation he was the sweet guy, mingling and forcing even the shyest ones to open up. You weren’t surprised that so many people gravitated towards him. Four years later you were still hung up on how kind he was to every person he met. The admiration you felt turned into something more around your second year, when you realized that he was smart too. It only got worse when he started coming into his own as a young adult. Now you were helplessly hung up on him, so much to the point that you would feel hot in the face just thinking about him.

“He probably already knows who you are.” Wonbin reasons.

Sungchan knowing who you were somehow felt worse than him not knowing you at all. He didn’t need to know that your schedules were almost synced up completely due to the fact that you both were pursuing the same degree, and that you two lived in the same area on campus. Sungchan didn’t need to know that you frequented the same spots at the same time for late night snacks or when you needed to get out. He didn’t need to know about your tendency to put your foot in your mouth or his habit of making you unreasonably nervous.

“Next time.” You murmur.

“You said that last time.” Wonbin comes between your line of sight and Sungchan. “I’ve been hearing about your little crush for too long now. I might end up taking matters into my own hands.”

At your friends threat you cock your head to the side. Wonbin mirrors your expression with a sinister grin. Then a moment later through the dancing crowd of people Wonbin opens his mouth. The beginning of Sungchan’s name falls from his lips and your feet move you forward deeper into the living room, desperately getting away from the situation. Wonbin’s eyes follow you as you go through the crowd, and you pray that Sungchan didn’t hear him.

You would’ve gladly spent the rest of the party in between the large group of people that danced in the living room. But at some point you wormed your way through the crowd and ended up on the other side of it, looking at the assortment of snacks on the table. As you continued to look down Sungchan was in the corner of your eye, nodding along to some conversation before he adding to it. The more you lingered the more you felt like he was looking at you. There was a break in the conversation and some of Sungchan’s friends dispersed to different parts of Wonbin’s house. It was just him alone, leaning against the wall in earshot of your voice. You held your breath and thought about what you were going to say three times. A deep breath in and you grabbed a snack, clearing your throat and turning your head towards Sungchan getting ready to speak.

“Sungchan!”

Both you and Sungchan turned your head at the same time. As you looked into the crowd to find the source of the voice Sungchan had already found it. A smile on his lips before he waved, preemptively bending down to hear her clearly.

“Minjeong. You never come to these things.” Sungchan said.

You’re not sure what Minjeong said next. You knew it couldn’t have been that funny to cause Sungchan to tilt his head back in laughter, and you know he wasn’t far enough for Minjeong to bring her hand up to his arm.

You stood next to the snack table and something akin to jealousy started boiling in your stomach. Almost immediately the jealousy turned to anger, and you were marching your heeled boots across the sticky wooden floors to the kitchen where Wonbin was already waiting for you.

From that point on, the party was a blur. Wonbin offered you something stronger to drown your sorrows despite the alcohol only making you more hellbent on remaining nonchalant. Even if you glared at the two of them from across the room you remained steadfast in answering Wonbin’s questions with a curt I’m fine before downing another drink. Before you knew it the party was thinning out and Minjeong left to catch up with her friends while Sungchan continued to talk to his.

Then the party really started winding down and you had alcohol buzzing in your system and a sense of jealousy you couldn’t quite shake.

So as Sungchan walked away from his designated spot and past where you reached out your hand and suddenly cleared your throat.

“Sungchan.” You said.

In that moment both of you seemed equally caught off guard. Sungchan stared at you and stopped completely in his tracks. Your hand was extended towards his body for a prolonged period of time before you hesitantly brought it back to your side. You realized in that moment that you had never actually spoken to him, all those years you spent staring at the back of his head and thinking about him gave you a false sense of knowing him. So when it sunk in that you were essentially a stranger to Sungchan despite knowing everything about him, you cleared your throat again.

“Have a nice night.” You said.

Sungchan cocked his head to the side at your abrupt well wishes. You felt a creeping sense of blush pink embarrassment wash over you, and in your haste you focused on finding Wonbin. Something to bridge the terrible gap between you and Sungchan that became a chasm in a matter of seconds. But before you could locate your mutual friend Sungchan nodded and raised his hand towards you briefly.

“Thanks.” He continued to walk, heading towards his friends that were already out the door. “You too.” He replied.

You held onto your short interaction with Sungchan entirely too much. His confused face flashed through your mind anytime there was a moment of silence, causing you to cringe inwardly. You thought about his awkward hand gesture towards you as he was leaving the party, and his reply that he seemed confused by. He was probably confused by the whole interaction. You caught him off guard, you caught yourself off guard. You no longer trusted yourself to be in his presence.

To never be caught in the same situation again, you avoided Sungchan at all costs. You came to class long before Sungchan did instead of arriving at the same time. You walked up rows of stairs now to avoid being in his line of sight, sitting behind a cluster of your classmates so he couldn’t see you. When he turned in his seat you sunk into yours, hiding in the spine of your textbook or behind the screen of your laptop. When you saw Sungchan at the corner store near campus you avoided him completely, feigning focus on random labels of snacks instead of Sungchan curiously looking down the aisles. You ignored the awkward hand waves he did towards you, the sound of your shared snack choices moving around in his basket. Instead you were focused on the nutritional facts of garbanzo beans and the low sound of pop music playing from the speakers.

You spent a week avoiding Sungchan by any means you thought you had finally succeeded. You thought that he had gone back to ignoring your presence. Your voice conveyed so much shock that he recoiled, bringing his hand that was on your shoulder back to his side before he looked away. Sungchan’s hand that went to the back of his neck showed that he didn’t realize you were running around and leaving rooms anytime he showed an inkling of wanting to approach you. You were scared shitless, so much so that you thought it was obvious. But Sungchan looked at you from beside the kitchen island, almost looking hurt as you both tried thinking of what else to say.

“I just was seeing you all night.” Sungchan gripped the edge of the kitchen island. “Zipping around. Just wanted to talk to you for a little bit.” He says.

The way Sungchan avoids eye contact is undeniable. His eyes go to the assortment of bottles on the kitchen island and the tile walls above the kitchen. You wouldn’t that he fails to meet your gaze because you fail to do it too. Both of your eyes flitter around the kitchen and you both nervously teeter from one foot to the other. It isn’t until Sungchan brings his cup back up to his lips that he dares to look at your face.

“You caught me.” You say quietly.

Sungchan nods his head.

“I caught you.” He affirms.

The party continues on beyond the kitchen. More people Wonbin knows come through the front door, cheering loud enough that causes other people to cheer with them. The living room becomes so packed that the crowd bleeds past the threshold of the kitchen. The party continues to expand, before you know it you and Sungchan are pushed closer and closer together by the growing crowd.

“You know.” Sungchan has to bend down to talk directly into your ear. The more people that came into the party the louder the music became. “I’m more attentive than you give me credit for.” He says.

The way he speaks almost sounds like his feelings are hurt. You should really take the words he says to you at face value.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply.

You really should have taken the words he said at face value. Because now there’s no denying to heat that spreads across your face and the smile you can’t control. You can practically hear the smile in Sungchan’s voice as he gets closer to you.

“I know you didn’t ask but me and Minjeong are just friends.” Sungchan points to one of his friends, standing in their designated spot as he talks to another person. “She’s dating my roommate. She rarely comes out so I was just surprised to see her is all.”

You keep your eyes towards the same doorframe you saw Sungchan last week, the same place you attempted to enter his orbit. The situation then threw you off balance, but the way he now leans in closely and nods at you makes your hands almost shake. But there is something nagging at you more than anything. The question eats at you while you rub the edge of the red solo cup and when girls come to inspect their choice of alcohol you force yourself to look up at Sungchan. He takes in your pensive look immediately, he blinks away the amusement from your joke to a worried look.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask with a smile, and the girls in the radius of your conversation get a little quieter as they make their selection of alcohol.

You watch Sungchan get visibly nervous. His own gaze flits to the girls briefly before he brings his red solo cup to his lips. He pulls away and you can see him try his best to hide the bitter taste behind a head nod.

“Go ahead.” He answers.

You nod, suddenly aware that now you have to ask the question. You look away from Sungchan’s intense gaze, causing him to lean a little closer. He fully invades your space now, causing your hand to clench around your plastic cup and to bite on your lips.

You realize in that moment that you’ve never been this close to Sungchan before. You’ve never been able to see how long his eyelashes are, how they fan his face between each blink of his curious eyes. You’ve never had to look up to him before, from such a distance he’s always been eye level.

“Did you ever notice me?” You ask.

Sungchan nods his head immediately. He looks into his cup for a second and smiles wistfully to himself. You can feel your heart thudding in your chest.

“I noticed you.”

Sungchan speaks so suddenly it catches you by surprise. You lean your head back and Sungchan slightly leans forward. His hand grips the edge of the island as thinks carefully, his lips pull tight and he looks up to the ceiling of the kitchen. You move to your other foot and feel the urge to press your hand deep over your ribcage.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” He looks at the tiled surface of the counter before looking to you. “But I noticed.” He says carefully.

Last week you talked for Sungchan for the first time, a brash decision caused by alcohol and jealousy. Now he was squeezing you past his friends as you ducked your way towards Wonbin’s room. You barely remember the progression from standing beside the island in the kitchen to walking behind him. His hand that was hesitant in touching you was confidently placed on the small of your back, inching further and further down as his body got closer to yours. You were operating on Sungchan’s guiding hand alone, each time the crowded party caused Sungchan’s front to press against your back caused your mind to blank. Your feet dragged across Wonbin’s living room floor, you two managed to squeeze through the entire party without a single person noticing you. Sungchan’s roommate only dapped him up as you continued down the hallway towards Wonbin’s room. You didn’t even have the chance to look behind you before Sungchan’s body was pressed against yours again, his hand reaching forward to open the bedroom door.

“You know this means you can’t avoid me around campus anymore, right?” Sungchan says as the door clicks closed behind you.

You can’t bring yourself to think about anything except Wonbin’s unoccupied and neatly made bed in front of you and Sungchan’s hands that grip your waist behind you. Your mind refuses to deviate from the task at hand. You have no brainpower left to try and convince Sungchan that you’ve blatantly ignored him the past week. You can only turn around and bring yourself to look at him for a second before you close the distance between your lips. With a simple tug at his collar Sungchan understands entirely too fast, a hand goes to your cheek the same time his other hand reaches behind him to turn the lock on the doorknob. Immediately his hand returns to your waist the same time you tilt your head to kiss him deeper. His hand on your cheek is soft, his lips that refuse to kiss you with the same fervor is even softer.

Sungchan walks you backwards towards Wonbin’s bed but lets you turn him. Within seconds it’s you impatiently walking on his feet, and you do a terrible job of guiding his body backwards. You truthfully don’t know where you are, you barely remember what you’re doing until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Sungchan takes his hands from your hips to break his landing on the mattress. You realize you’ve come in entirely too hot when Sungchan loses his balance, his palms planting into the bed is the only thing that stabilizes him.

With you looking down at Sungchan and him looking up at you, the situation you found yourself in began to slowly sink in. Sungchan was already making himself comfortable on the bed, looking up to you like you had all the power in the world. Your spit glistened on his lip and the music continued playing. The bass shook the floor you stood on and the more you realized Sungchan wanted you the more you believed you were going to ruin it all. The tension built between you two over the course of years felt like it was at risk of dissipating in seconds. You were practically waiting for Sungchan to blink the lust away from his eyes, you were waiting for a switch to flip that would make him forget you all over again. You had convinced yourself were at risk of being right at square one despite Sungchan pulling himself to the center of the bed and reaching out to your waist in a silent invitation.

All it takes is one gentle pull from Sungchan before your crawling on the bed after him. He lays on his back you get on the bed with your knees planted on either side of him. You start your way up his body the same time his hands start on your bare thigh, palming and rubbing your soft skin slowly. The mattress creaks underneath your knees, the sound drowns out your quiet exhales and your thighs brushing against Sungchan’s jeans. You look at the indent your weight is making in the dark comforter before you finally bring your gaze up to Sungchan.

Everything stops when you find he’s already looking at you. A half-lidded gaze that would’ve made you look away any other time, but for the first time ever you focus on him completely. You do not want to waste a single second not looking at him. You don’t want to miss the way his hand hesitantly works further up your body as he blinks away the arousal to show sincerity.

“I don’t want you to think I planned this.” He slowly drags his hands up, one gripping your waist and the other pressed into your lower stomach. He makes your hips come further down to press against his, and you feel his length against your clothed cunt. Sungchan’s eyes go down to where you two are so close to meeting, the lightest graze downwards to feel the cotton fabric and elastic trim of your panties. “I didn’t chat you up just to fuck.” He says truthfully.

Sungchan is admittedly already lost in you. His voice is far off as he speaks to you, almost falling underneath the baseline of the party that continues on downstairs. The low hum of lyrics leak through the walls, and the occasional yell of something happening upstairs fills the silence between the two of you. But Sungchan isn’t focused on the music or the people, he is focused on the soft skin of your lower stomach against his fingertips.

He was two seconds away from grabbing your stomach and watching the flesh spill between the gaps of his fingers when you dragged your hips against his. Suddenly it was the sound of fabric filling the room, his denim catching against cotton and the sound of mutual sharp inhales.

“Who says we’re fucking?” You ask.

Your heart is pounding in your chest at your bold words. The word fucking felt foreign rolling off your tongue in this context, but the way Sungchan’s gaze snapped up to you gave you confidence. His hand completely loosening its grip emboldened you enough to repeat the motion. Your hips were laid heavy against Sungchan’s body as you moved forward, feeling his constrained and twitching dick rub against you.

“You’ll have to take me out to dinner first.” When you grind your hips a third time you have to lean forward, your hands pressing into the mattress on either side of Sungchan’s head. The new positioning allows you to drag your hips with more fluidity. Warmth comes off of him in waves. His head warms your hands, the heat radiating from his body pressed against yours almost feels like a flame. When you swivel to again Sungchan’s hands go to your hips, experimentally pressing you down further. “I’m not that easy.” You chide.

Sungchan is nodding his head in an instant. He parts his lips to speak as you grind your hips against his again, instead of speaking he swallows. You swear you can feel every inch of him, even when layers of clothes separate your sexes.

“I’ll take you out.” Sungchan breathes out, closing his eyes and pressing his head into the mattress as he slows your hips down. “I’m going to take you to that place Wonbin said you like.” He laments.

You only nod back to him. The sensation of grinding against him is intoxicating. Like the layer of clothes have been shed you can feel his warmth flood you like he’s inside, and the way he grips at your waist only increases the feeling. Your eyebrows knit together when you flick your hips a different way, the new sensation lighting up your spine.

“I swear I can feel you.” Sungchan whines it to the ceiling. His thumbs press deep into your stomach, and you clutch the sheets beside his head. “Can you feel me?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You whine.

Your eyes are screwed shut for a moment, focusing on repeating that same motion that made you feel like you were on fire. Sungchan’s hand reaches further up, grabbing a handful of your chest and you move into his touch.

“Where can you feel me?” He asks.

When you open your eyes again Sungchan is already looking up at you. His pupils are blown out and you’re sure you looked the same, complete with the bitten lips and death grips behind your hands. Your shaky hand lets go of the sheets and drifts to your stomach, a heavy hand tracing over Sungchan’s torso. He freezes up underneath your touch, but you watch the muscles of his stomach tense when your hand lays flat on your lower stomach. You press deep into your stomach and it causes your hips to twitch erratically. As if the tension is a real tangible thing in the pit of your gut you stimulate it, looking down at Sungchan when you start moving your hips in a circle.

“I can feel you here.” You answer.

Both of you know that technically Sungchan is nowhere close to being inside of you. There’s two pairs of underwear, jeans, and about four years of pining that separate you. You both know that even if you’re grinding on Sungchan’s dick and he’s keeping your cunt flush to him, there’s still so much left to the imagination. He doesn’t know what you look like laying bare for him and you don’t know what his dick looks like free of its confines. But you’ve yearned for this so long your mind has been prepared to fill the gaps. You have been walking in the desert for years, so of course having a drop of water feels like you’re drowning. You can feel his dick throbbing like a rock forming in the pit of your stomach. Each drag of your hips is like swimming deeper and deeper to the end, Sungchan’s breathy groans that you’ve dreamed about pulls you under.

“I can feel it too.” Sungchan brings his gaze back up to you, eyes glazed over. “I swear I can.” He says.

Sungchan pulls himself further onto the bed, his hand goes to your lower back to keep you stable. Before you know it he’s sitting up on the bed entirely, chest pressed to yours as he puts his face in the crook of your neck.

The new angle and Sungchan’s iron grip on your body has you whining. That coil in your stomach continues to tighten, even if it’s stubborn from the lack of you being touched the way you truly need. Even if you are not getting fucked you still feel the excitement, and despite Sungchan not being inside of you he still ruts his hips upwards in a haste.

“It feels so good.” He feels your skin that’s hot to the touch, he feels your hair tickling the side of his face and he feels your heart beating against his chest. He can feel the atmosphere surrounding you two, the undeniable tension that you were unknowingly avoiding. Even if he can’t technically feel the way your walls close around nothing sporadically, he can feel something. “You feel so good.” He sighs.

You nod your head against his. You can feel it too.

“Sungchan, I’m so close.” You whine.

The bass from the music downstairs gets louder, shaking the floor the bed resides on and the walls that are closing you and Sungchan in. You can feel the energy of the party increase tenfold, and the electricity between you and Sungchan threatens to fry your brain to a crisp. Everything is too much, entirely too much.

When Sungchan pulls his body away from yours and props his hand behind his back, you feel overwhelmed. Your hips control you now, moving almost in a frenzy chasing after something that already feels like it’s fleeting.

His eyes go down to your panties, he watches the cotton fabric move against his jeans intensely before his gaze goes back up to you. Without a word Sungchan takes his hand from behind him and holds onto you tighter. With you as his new anchor he pushes his hand past the elastic band of your panties, and pushes them lower and lower. When his quick hand bumps your clit your full body twitches, and when his two fingers push past your slit you go forward entirely.

You collapse into him pathetically, grasping at anything you can to steady yourself. You can feel Sungchan’s body sway from your weight, his core strength is the only thing that keeps your bodies upright. If it’s a strenuous task he doesn’t let it be known, he only rests his head on top of yours and continues pumping his fingers in and out of your heat.

“Oh my God.” Your words are muffled in his white tee, they slide out like the spit seeping from the corner of your mouth.

“I got you.” He says.

Him holding on just for you was the last thing you needed. Your hands that found their way to Sungchan’s bicep grips them so tightly you can feel your nails digging into his soft skin. You curse into his chest, and when you feel that coil snap Sungchan brings you in closer. His large hand splays against your back as your hips flick with no rhythm. You can feel Sungchan hold on for a moment longer before his body shudders underneath yours, causing his fingers to fuck you at a faster pace.

You are completely lost. You’re lost in the pressure and the feeling of Sungchan’s hard body against yours. You can barely force yourself to look upwards at through the bliss to see him, and the view is devastating. The way Sungchan looks down at you pulls you deeper to the point that you’re helplessly whimpering in his face. Sungchan starts letting out sounds of his own, whispered cursed and beginnings of grunts. When the music stops downstairs you two choose to muffle your sounds by kissing.

Instantly Sungchan slips his tongue into your mouth. You can taste him run it over your top row of teeth, then to the inside of your cheek. You moan into Sungchan’s mouth and he moans into yours. You can’t stop yourself from bringing your hands to his face and tilting it to the side. You feel another pull when Sungchan submits immediately to you, and you can feel his moans turn to whimpers inside of your mouth. For a split second you open your eyes to see his closed as he tilts his head to the other side. His cheeks are so smooth underneath your fingertips and he looks so pure, even when your spit glazes the perimeter of his lips and he moans into your mouth. For a moment you can handle it, but just like when the music picks up again there is too much going on. Your hand grabs at his that’s in your underwear and you reluctantly break apart from his lips.

“Too much.” You whimper.

Sungchan opens his eyes in a daze, for a moment his fingers still move inside of you like they have a mind of their own. When he subconsciously presses his fingers against your walls you seize again, and a cry escapes your lips.

Sungchan pulls his fingers out of you and the two of you watch as he pulls his hand from your underwear to hold your waist. The view is too much, entirely too much but you can’t bring yourself to look away. The two of you are still caught up in the sight, and when the dust settles and Wonbin starts yelling at people to leave everything starts sinking in.

You pull away completely first. Both you and Sungchan’s breathing is still labored as you look the other up and down. Your hands still shake when you ball them into first, and your first mouthful of spit you swallow still tastes like Sungchan. He was kissing you and fingering you on Wonbin’s bed, he was kissing you like his life depended on it. Everything moved so fast that it replayed like a movie in your head. Flashes of your moans and Sungchan gripping you so tight permeates the forefront of your mind. Your first instinct is to get away from him, as if there was anyway for you to expose yourself to him further.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

When you try to crawl off of Sungchan he grips your waist even tighter. Sungchan’s bewildered expression drops when the apology stumbles from your lips.

“Please don’t say sorry while my hand is still in your pants.” He says painfully.

You don’t think you’ve ever been in a worse situation. The tips of Sungchan’s fingers are still hidden underneath your jeans, you can still feel the bottom of his palm press into your stomach. You unintentionally squirm on his lap again, and like his foot has been stepped on Sungchan sucks in another deep breath.

“Sor—” Sungchan begging you not to say sorry makes you stop in the middle of your sentence. “My bad.” You say.

Wonbin still is yelling at people to clear out of his apartment. His voice sounds closer than it did before, like he was in that part of the hallway that either too him to the bathrooms or to his bedroom that you and Sungchan were currently occupying.

Both of you know you should get up. The more time you waste staring at eachother trying to find the words to say Wonbin gets closer and closer to discovering that his door is locked and he hasn’t seen his two bestfriends in a prolonged period of time. But you can’t stop looking at Sungchan’s lips in awe that you were kissing them minutes ago and he can’t take his hands away from your bare skin.

The door handle is turned one way then the other, causing the metal knob to twist back and forth. You can’t be bothered to turn your head. Sungchan’s hands start lightly kneading your waist.

“Who the fuck is in here?” Wonbin yells on the other side.

#commissionz #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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kawaiibarty · 2 days ago

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unedited jegulus oneshot at exactly 1,4k words based on this insta post (please check out the artist they're so cool) the ending is so rushed because i cba 😭😭😭😭😭

Saying that Regulus wasn't used to this would be one of the greatest understatements he'd ever make, and given his past, well that says a lot.

It happened when he and James were in the library, and where Regulus was meant to be studying, he'd found himself staring at the other boy intently. He couldn't help it, anyway. The boy that was usually loud, chatting non-stop to ensure that Regulus was painfully aware of his presence now sat with his nose buried deep in a book he'd chosen from the shelf at random. Except he hadn't turned the page in about seven full minutes and Regulus was beginning to feel weirdly irritated by the fact that James hadn't said anything since he'd asked to join him (which would be a groundbreaking first).

“Good book?” He finally asked, and James jerked, clutching the book towards him as if it would run away. Regulus frowned at the startled ‘deer-in-headlights’ look on the other boy's face.

“Uh, yeah?” James said, cheeks turning pink, and he must have noticed the vaguely irritated way Regulus watched him because he stared back at the open book. He gestured to it rather weakly and said, “Very interesting. Yes.”

“So tell me what it's about.”

James balked, looking rather stupid with his mouth hanging open. Regulus sighed, running a hand through his hair, cursing himself mentally as he asked “Potter, are you okay? And don't give me that look, I'm just as surprised as you are that I care.”

James' blush spread to his ears and he shook his head, then nodded and when Regulus sighed again he shrugged, defeated.

“If I wasn't, there's not much you could do to help anyway.” James said, looking back at the book, trying his best to feign nonchalance but Regulus wasn't stupid. He reached forward, pulling the book away from James.

“Hey, that's not fair.” James grumbled indignantly but made no move to take it back.

“Come on, Potter. You force shit out of me the same way, have a taste of your own medicine.”

James worried his lip, looking down at the table, “I told you. You can't do anything about it. It's stupid.”

Regulus groaned, sitting all the way back in his chair.

“Potter, between you and I, I sort of actually care about you, okay? Seriously, if you have something that's bothering you,” he caught James’ eyes, finishing weakly under the curious scrutiny, “you can tell me...”

Silence dragged and Regulus wondered if he'd pushed too hard. The golden boy of Gryffindor tower looked as though he hadn't slept for days and Regulus told himself that he was right to ask, after all James’ eyes were far too tired for someone who is usually smiling at everything.

Regulus opened his mouth, then closed it. An overwhelming urge to bundle the other boy up in a giant blanket and stroke his hair until he fell asleep washed over him. He cringed, attempting to shake the thought out of his head and promptly failed when he turned his eyes back to James. The Gryffindor looked pathetic and he wanted to kiss him square on the forehead. He couldn't stop himself, Regulus let his mouth betray him. Just this once.

“I could hug you, if that's what you want.” As James laughed, Regulus thought that the betrayal was worth it. It was small but it was something.

“Did you mean to say that out loud, Reggie?” a tinge of humour, almost entirely sincere.

“Hm, maybe. What gave it away?”

James perked up slightly, head tilted to the side in that curious way of his, “I'm pretty sure that when you don't like a thought you've made you screw your face up and all. You do it a lot anyway.”

Regulus scoffed, a little embarrassed “No, that's ridiculous. What's wrong with you? You've never turned down a hug before, anyway”

“Real smooth subject change, and I never did turn it down. I just—” James smiled a little bashfully this time, fingers picking at the edge of the table, “— uhm, it's really nothing. I, uhm…”

Regulus mused that he must have sighed a million times by then. He rolled his eyes, palms smacking against the table.

“You're frustrating me.”

James mimicked him, “You're frustrating me.” He punctuated it with an exaggerated pout, slamming his hands on the table and flinching at the noise. Stupid Potter.

“Okay, so you want to be hugged?” Regulus would be lying if he said he'd feel disappointed if the hug was properly rejected, but he kept his face as neutral as possible.

James hid himself behind his hands, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, “Yeaaah, I guess.”

“Ugh, what do you mean, ‘I guess’? It's either yes or no.”

“I'm like,” James reached out to thin air, waving his hands in little circles and Regulus would've found it endearing if he wasn't itching with mild irritation, “I don't know? Like, uhm…”

“Merlin's fucking beard, Potter. Spit. It. Out.”

“You're so tiny!” James screwed his face up, shaking his head.

“What? I am not.” Regulus didn't bother with being embarrassed by how defiant he sounded because James Bloody Potter calling him tiny was not something he wanted to hear after being picked on by Barty and Sirius for his height every time he breathed.

“I mean, like—” he gestured to Regulus, then to himself and when it seemed words failed him he groaned, hands coming back to his eyes.

“I hug you right?”

Regulus squinted at him, “Uh huh…” every word that James sputtered out concerned him more but he let the other boy speak. He wanted to hear everything.

“And then, uhm, yeah it's like,” James gestured stupidly again, “I hug you, and you can, you know? Lay your head on my chest.”

Understanding dawned on Regulus, he smiled, then caught himself and schooled his expression as best as he could. Pointless, considering James had already noticed and the Gryffindor’s face was redder than Regulus had had the privilege of seeing. He looked dumb. In a cute way.

“You're scrunching your face up again.” James mumbled.

“So you want to feel smaller than me when you're being hugged?”

There was a moment of Regulus waiting expectantly for a vacant James to answer and when he didn't, Regulus nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up as he stood, pulling a stool away from the bookshelf behind them.

“I'll take that as a yes, then.”

Regulus stood on the stool, arms held open.

“What are you—”

“I'm not waiting all day, Potter.”

“I didn't take you for a jokester.” James said, something vulnerable in his voice caused Regulus' heart to stutter in his chest.

“I'm not. Now come on, before someone sees me standing here like an imbecile.”

Slowly, James stood too. He looked everywhere but at Regulus, inching forward like a little kid afraid of tripping over something.

“James. It's fine.” Regulus’ attempt at sounding genuine must have worked because as soon as he'd said that, James' forehead was touching his chest. Regulus cautiously wrapped his arms around the boy, feeling arms snake around him at the same time.

James sighed, breath hitching a little. They stood like that for a bit, Regulus praying to whatever muggle god was out there to mute his racing heartbeat.

“So…are you okay, Potter?” he asked as a distraction.

Fists clenched into Regulus' shirt, another little sigh. A little bit like a hiccup. Regulus’ heart did that jumpy thing again.

“Potter, I asked—”

“Say it again.” muffled and softer than Regulus had heard James speak in his entire schooling career at Hogwarts. A lot of firsts for one day, it started to make Regulus dizzy.

“Are you okay, Potter?”

James shook his head defiantly, probably messing up Regulus’ shirt and tie in the process, “Nah uh.”

Regulus fought a tired groan from escaping, gritting his teeth he managed; “Use your words, you baby.”

“My name.”

"I did—" Oh.

Oh. Regulus was properly blushing now.

“Oh, uh. James, are you okay?” he whispered, knees weak with embarrassment.

James' grip relaxed and he pulled himself away gently, looking up at Regulus. A dopey smile plastered on his face, eyes a little watery.

“Yeah, I think I'm good.”

“Okay.”

Regulus really, honest to Merlin could not stop himself this time as he leant forward, kissing James on the forehead.

He was stupid. In a cute way. So it's fine.

#*sighs pathetically*#god help me #starchaser #sunseeker #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus oneshot #regulus x james #james.fic

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dreameryfics · 21 hours ago

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JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: JJ has loved you for years, but only now do you realize it

We had just got back to the island from Charleston. John B and Sarah were back home, safe. We had the night, one night where everything felt normal, or at least our normal. John B was still wanted for a murder he didn't commit. We all decided that would be a tomorrow problem, tonight though, was for us.

We were all hanging in the backyard, JJ, Pope, and I all in the hot tub. It was more just a small pool now as the hot tub part didn't work anymore. Kie and Sarah were sitting by the fire; Kie playing the ukulele and Sarah fiddling with the small bandana around her neck. John B was looking at the tribute we made for him, realizing how real it was for us. I made my way out of the 'hot tub' and over to my brother.

I stood beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. "I thought you were dead, I thought I lost my brother and best friend all in one go. After Dad," I choked up, "I couldn't bear the thought of you being gone too."

"Hey," he turned towards me, placing his hands on my shoulders, "I'm here. You can't get rid of me that easily sis." He pulls me in for a hug, one I knew we both desperately needed. We stay like that for a while before we hear rustling behind us. We turn around and see JJ walking over. “I’ll talk to you later,” I tell my brother, knowing him and JJ needed some time to talk.

I walk and sit next to Sarah, her glancing over at me. Sarah and I had always been friends, even before she met John B. She was always nice to me and knew that being a Kook didn’t make her any better than the rest of us; a concept I wish the other Kook’s would understand.

“I need to tell you something,” she blurted out, facing me now. I turned towards her and she went on, “ John B and I kind of got married.”

“What!?!” I yell out. “Shhh- don’t be so damn loud,” she shushed me. “Sorry, but you can’t expect me to now react that way when he’s my brother and you’re, well you.” I chuckle at her, noticing she’s looking over at John B now. I can see it in her eyes, she loves him; and more than just a high school type of relationship. They’re endgame. “Sarah, I’m so happy for you,” I reach over and grab her hands, “and now I have a sister-in-law! Tell me everything! How exactly do two presumed dead teens get married in a foreign country?”

“Well, it was technically in the middle of the ocean, so legal, not likely, but it is to us,” she told me causing me to let out a slight chuckle. “We’re gonna get a dog,” she said the last part louder. I looked over and saw John B walking towards us, shaking his head at her. “Sarah, not anytime soon. We have to get the gold from Ward first,” he said very matter of fact, “and then full Kook!”

“So, Kie, what’s happening with you and Pope?” Sarah asks pointing over to Pope looking at her. “I don’t know honestly, but I think it might be something.”

“That’s,” I pause trying to find the right word, “vague as fuck, Kie.” We all chuckle knowing that she’ll tell us when she’s up to it and when she knows more about her feelings. She flips me off before getting up and putting on some music.

Sarah and I stood up and went over to Kie, the boys taking our spots we were just at. The three of us started dancing to the rhythm of the music, just enjoying life. I can’t dance, but it doesn’t matter because tonight is just about us all being together. After about three songs, Kie comes over and nudges my shoulder, “look who can’t keep their eyes off of you,” she says looking over to JJ.

I look over at him and see him staring at me. Once he sees me looking at him, he gets the smallest smile on his face and shakes his head at me causing me to blush. “He’s just happy we’re all together again,” I tell Kie, “ don’t read into it. He doesn’t like me like that.” I look down, wanting Kie to be right but knowing he probably just sees me as John B’s little sister.

“Trust me on this one, friends don’t look at each other like that,” she whispers to me before dancing over to Sarah. I glance over at JJ and see him looking at me again. The next song that comes on from Kie’s playlist is a slower song. I see Sarah walk over to John B, hands outstretched, as he stands to grab her arms and pulls her into a hug. Sarah puts her arms around John B’s neck and he places his hands around her waist. She rests her head on his chest and I can see all the trouble and fear just melt away from my brother’s face.

I was about to walk over to grab another beer from the cooler when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I turn around and see JJ, “Care to dance with me malady?” He reaches his hand out and bends down slowly. “I thought you’d never ask,” I reply taking his hand and curtsying. We both chuckle and walk hand in hand to where I was just at. I repeat Sarah’s actions and place my arms around his neck and he places his hands on my sides.

“I can’t believe they’re back,” he says looking down at me. JJ had been having a really hard time with John B being missing. He got himself fired after arguing with one of the Kooks about John B being innocent. He didn’t tell anybody else, but he started having small panic attacks. He wasn’t staying at his place anymore, not wanting to be alone so he would often sleep on the couch at the Chateau. “Me either, I’m so fucking overjoyed they’re back. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do if we hadn’t gotten that text from them.”

“I didn’t either,” he says looking down at me, “I’m just happy I had you.” I could feel the heat rise to my face, maybe Kie was right. “Can I tell you something?” I looked up at him and shook my head. “I don’t want what I’m about to say change anything, but with what’s all happened, I can’t just keep quiet. I love you. I need you to know that in case everything goes to shit and I never get the chance to tell you.” I’m taken aback by his sudden outburst of honesty. We are both now just standing there, not realizing that the rest of the group had taken notice to what was happening.

I didn’t reply right away, not being prepared for this. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said before turning away from me and running his fingers through his hair. “JJ-“ I grab his shoulder to make him turn back towards me. I did the only thing that felt right in the moment, I kissed him. He questioned it for the slightest second before kissing me back. I heard the hoots and hollers from the rest of the group, but all I could focus on was him. This was all that mattered to me in this moment. I pulled away, placing my hand in his, “I love you too.” He pulled me into the biggest and warmest bear hug.

“But what about the no pogue on pogue rule,” I say, still hugging him. He lets out a low chuckle before pulling apart and looking to John B. “He’s actually okay with this,” I look over at my brother, completely surprised at this statement. “What do you think we were talking about before sis?” John B says to me, “I couldn’t bear to watch you two miss your opportunity to be together all because of a stupid rule we made up.” I give him a smile before resting my head on JJ’s chest.

“Told you,” Kie said to me before grabbing another beer and tossing it to me. I stuck my tongue out at her and caught the beer, opening it and taking a sip.

We spent the rest of the night drinking and dancing. Kie and Pope left us. It wasn’t long before our whole world came crashing down around us as two people came looking for John B and Sarah; non other than Barry and Rafe Cameron himself. Maybe we won’t get one night, but we got a few moments, the best moments I would say.

Tomorrow: clearing John B’s name and figuring out what JJ and my first date is going to be. The former obviously more important, but I can dream.

#fanfic #masterlist #request #requests open #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj x reader #outer banks #outerbanks jj #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader

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leclerc-s · 1 day ago

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karma - part ten

series masterlist // previous // next

natalia leclerc fuck charles leclerc and his super sperm

daniel ricciardo what happened to hello? how are you? good morning

liam lawson talk about top 10 things i never want to see first thing in the morning

yuki tsunoda considering your current situation, i would say you have fucked charles leclerc

ben santos-ruiz max is trying max verstappen fuck you benjamin

oscar piastri-leclerc somethings are too much for me

sebastian vettel does this have something to do with the doctor's appointment you had this morning?

natalia leclerc yes sebastian, it does

ollie bearman-leclerc did you kill charles? is that why he's not here?

natalia leclerc that bitch is too busy laughing at my predicament natalia leclerc he participates all of five minutes and somehow I'M stuck carrying TWO of his spawns!!

max verstappen wait, have you picked godparents? do i get to be a godparent?

pato o'ward-leclerc what on earth makes you think they picked god parents already??

natalia leclerc i'll have you know, no, we're still thinking about that

logan sargeant-leclerc I VOLUNTEER!!

ollie bearman-leclerc so pick me, choose me

max verstappen ??

ollie bearman-leclerc you are the most chronologically offline f1 driver i have ever met. i bet fernando would get that reference and he's ancient

oscar piastri-leclerc thank you for the blackmail for when you want to do the thing

ollie bearman-leclerc FUCK YOU! DON'T DO THAT SHIT!

jenson button what on earth are they arguing about?

natalia leclerc nothing. i swear.

liked by charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel, olliebearman and others

natalia_leclerc surprise, but not really because someone spoiled it. p.s. don't worry people, he's still alive, but not after i see him in hungary.

tagged: charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc thank you for giving me the best gift i could've ever asked for 💙

natalia_leclerc i'm sorry for nearly giving you a heart attack when you found out the day before your home grand prix 💙 charles_leclerc no, you're not but that's okay. i wouldn't have it any other way.

arthur_leclerc I'M GONNA BE AN UNCLE!! (NOT CLICKBAIT) (FOR REAL)

maxverstappen1 you don't have to worry about her killing you over this one arthur_leclerc what i did is small compared to what lando did

landonorris I SAID I'M SORRY!! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!

natalia_leclerc you're dead norris. dead ⚰️

uesr1 wait, how did charles find out? with the cake?

natalia_leclerc you know that day where he was spotted running around the paddock like a maniac? user1 yeah? natalia_leclerc that day. i sent a picture in our family group chat with three different positive pregnancy tests and then ghosted them 💀

user2 you're telling me charles found out through a text?!

natalia_leclerc I PANICKED OKAY? HE WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF QUALI WHEN I FOUND OUT! bensantos_ruiz we found out she was dating charles through a gossip page. this is nothing new for her maxverstappen1 and then you found out she was married through her instagram stories bensantos_ruiz my sister has a flair for the dramatic, what can i say? charles_leclerc it's okay because i love her.

olliebearman GUYS! I'M GONNA BE A BIG BROTHER!!

user3 you are taking this way too seriously bensantos_ruiz i was told to inform people that my dad says to not tell ollie anything. and seb. user3 oh so they're family, family.

sukiwaterhouse congrats!!! can't wait to meet baby ruiz

charles_leclerc this is new levels of haterism suki sukiwaterhouse oh i know 😉 psa to carlosainz55 only i'm allowed to hate on charles. not you. charles_leclerc oh my god natalia_leclerc it's leclerc-ruiz suki, we've talked about this sukiwaterhouse of course my love, anything you say my love charles_leclerc 🫵 simp sukiwaterhouse i know your ass ain't talking leclerc

redbullracing if admin let out a loud scream, no can legally tell us anything.

natalia_leclerc red bull admin, i seriously love you.

aurorabutton congratulations!! if the way you treat your grid kids says anything it's that you're going to be great parents!!

natalia_leclerc thank you aurora! charles_leclerc thank you little button! maxverstappen1 why the fuck does he get to call you little button but not me? aurorabutton he's charles leclerc you sid the sloth

aurorabutton currently waiting for peter pettigrew to find a way to ruin the moment and make this about him

user4 not peter pettigrew 💀😭 user5 never has he been described more accurately.

carlossainz55 you just had to find a way to tie him down didn't you?

maxverstappen1 you speak like someone who was in love with charles and not natalia, which we all know you were or still are, it’s hard to remember sometimes olliebearman don't you have other things to do? like find your jobless ass a seat for next year? natalia_leclerc i tied him down when we were 6 and he pulled on my pigtails because he didn't know how to talk to me but thanks! charles_leclerc so this is what the children call pick me behavior?? patriciooward no one wants you here, go away!! oscarpiastri don't you have a girlfriend to go cheat on? logansargeant man why do you have to ruin the moment? we're having a good time and you just ruin the vibes, like always. aurorabutton oh go fuck yourself sainz. maybe norris can help you out? landonorris WHY THE FUCK AM I CATCHING STRAYS??

alex_albon petition to have myself be godfather??

natalia_leclerc done. you're hired! maxverstappen1 THAT'S ALL IT TAKES?! alex_albon i can't tell if she's being serious or not? natalia_leclerc you are quite literally the reason charles and i are together? silverstone 2017 ringing a bell? alex_albon OH I DID DO THAT! user6 ALEX ALBON IS THE REASON THEY'RE TOGETHER?? alex_albon we were all sick and tired of the will they won't they thing they had going on so i locked them in a closet before silverstone race day in 2017 and wouldn't let them out until they confessed their feelings for each other

rileykeough congratulations to the happy couple!! excited to meet baby leclerc-ruiz!!

natalia_leclerc thank you my love ❤️ charles_leclerc please stop asking me to name our child after you rileykeough OH COME ONE! ALBON GETS TO BE GODFATHER BUT I CAN'T GET ONE NAMED AFTER ME? alex_albon why am i catching strays??

pierregasly WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO HELLO? HOW ARE YOU? WHY WAS I NOT TOLD ABOUT THIS??

charles_leclerc so that's who i forgot to tell pierregasly APOLOGY WITH TEARS!!!

kellypiquet congrats, you look beautiful 💙

natalia_leclerc kelly, i'm not kidding, i might cry kellypiquet oh, i understand, trust me

isahernaez felicitaciones!! no cabe duda que van a ser los mejores papas para sus pequeños 💙

natalia_leclerc isa, me vas a hacer llorar más 🥹 te extraño, tenemos que encontrarnos pronto isahernaez obvio! dime cuándo y a qué horas y allí estaré! user7 my favorite ex-ferrari wags 😭💔

liked by bensantos_ruiz, pierregasly, lilymhe and others

charles_leclerc il n'y a personne d'autre au monde avec qui je voudrais devenir parents à part toi (there's no one else in the world who i would rather be parents with)

tagged: natalia_leclerc

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maxverstappen1 two photoshoots for a pregnancy announcement seems like a lot

natalia_leclerc just say you're bitter that he picked me and not you. maxverstappen1 never ever natalia_leclerc you're the other woman! maxverstappen1 no, YOU'RE the other woman! aurorabutton pack it up emily, victor, and victoria

danielricciardo congrats!!! can't wait to meet baby leclerc-ruiz

natalia_leclerc have i told you how much i love you mr. honey badger?? charles_leclerc thank you daniel danielricciardo yes, i'll steal more stroopwafels from max natalia_leclerc you're the best mr. ricciardo

liamlawson30 A MINI LIGHTNING MCQUEEN!!!

yukitsunoda0511 you have to stop calling him lightning mcqueen liamlawson30 the day carlos stops being bitter about charles having everything he wanted with natalia is the day i'll stop user8 oh so this is a red bull v sainz family thing liamlawson30 no it's a leclerc-ruiz v sainz thing but we firmly stand on charles and nat's side.

redbullracing brb preparing the red bull baby gear!!

charles_leclerc please don't over do it. redbullracing what do you mean?? it's not like we mass ordered a baby pram?? for every stage of the babies life?? charles_leclerc oh mon dieu

lorenzotl maman hasn't stopped crying since she saw nat's post

bensantos_ruiz oh i don't think dad's gone a day without bursting into tears arthur_leclerc wait, does this mean i'm not the favorite anymore? natalia_leclerc you never were, that was me charles_leclerc that's because you were the only girl and let maman do your hair all the time

pierregalsy wtf does she mean when she says i can't be godfather??

natalia_leclerc i meant what i said gasly charles_leclerc she said she doesn't trust a man who makes 🐶 jokes pierregasly SO YOU PICKED ALEX OVER ME? natalia_leclerc alex is a very responsible man, who sometimes does questionable things but we love him. alex_albon name one time i've done something questionable natalia_leclerc before your appendix surgery you texted me saying i had to be ready in case you didn't make it. alex_albon i've seen greys anatomy.

user8 the stars have really aligned for charles leclerc this year haven't they?

user9 bestie, what do you mean? user8 well, he's championship leader right now, he's married to the love of his life, he's going to be a dad, and he won monaco user10 charles leclerc, what sacrifices did you make to get to this point? user11 carlos' seat at ferrari 💀 ❤ by charles_leclerc user9 this man is messy as fuck and i love that for him

charles leclerc i wasn't going to ask but natalia said i had to, thoughts on going to the eras tour?

ollie bearman-leclerc DO YOU EVEN HAVE TO ASK?! I WANT TO GO!! TAKE ME WITH YOU!!

natalia leclerc i told you they would want to go

pato o'ward-leclerc i am a swiftie first and human second.

oscar piastri-leclerc it's like you hate us or something

logan sargeant-leclerc i just know max wouldn't treat us this way.

charles leclerc fuck you logan, i'm a way better parent than max.

ollie bearman-leclerc i bet max wouldn't forget about p if he was going to the eras tour with kelly

charles leclerc okay, i didn't forget about you guys, but we are going with pierre and kika

pato o'ward-leclerc OH SO YOU FORGET ABOUT US BUT NOT PIERRE AND KIKA?

natalia leclerc in his defense kika and i were the ones who wanted to go and i told him you four would want to go too

oscar piastri-leclerc oh? and what did he say?

charles leclerc i said that you wouldn't want to go

logan sargeant-leclerc IT'S LIKE YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW US!!

pato o'ward-leclerc DISHONOR ON YOU, DISHONOR ON YOUR COW!!

ollie bearman-leclerc so we're not going to the eras tour??

ollie bearman-leclerc 🙁🙁

charles leclerc i have 4 extra tickets??

ollie bearman-leclerc LET'S FUCKING GO!!! I HOPE I GET THUG SONG AS MY SURPRISE SONG

pato o'ward-leclerc REPUTATION ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

logan sargeant-leclerc DEBUT ANNOUNCEMENT!!

oscar piastri-leclerc lily's going to kill me for going without her

natalia leclerc at least one of you has your priorities straight

natalia_leclerc posted new stories

video transcript: "look amore, i learned this last night!" - charles "people have been doing that for ages charles. stop acting so old!" - ollie "yeah charles, this behavior is kinda embarrassing." - oscar "this is why logan and i are the favorites." - pato just so we're clear... the best lunch date 🩷 don't tell the boys by the way, taylor sang wonderland for me. i know because the voices told me (this is a joke. please don't start saying i'm crazy) mi corazón 🥹🥹 the boys are arguing over what we're getting for dinner in the back btw.

HUNGARY 2024

natalia_leclerc posted new stories

oscar piastri!! grand prix winner!! a well deserved victory, no matter what anyone says. (that is my son and i will fight anyone who says anything about him)

oscar piastri-leclerc patricio ask rossi when he's going to win a race with mclaren?

pato o'ward-leclerc damn he wins one race and suddenly he's bold ollie bearman-leclerc let him have this. he almost lost it to his teammate

natalia leclerc i'm willing to commit murder if you need me too

charles leclerc please don't. logan sargeant-leclerc no, no, please do. it's the least they deserve. ollie bearman-leclerc i can get someone to light their hospitality on fire again oscar piastri-leclerc please don't.

pato o'ward-leclerc sounds like you guys don't like fun.

charles leclerc no, we just don't want them to end up in prison for attempted murder or arson.

ollie bearman-leclerc fine, we egg zac brown's car and mclaren hospitality.

logan sargeant-leclerc legally we won't get in trouble for that

oscar piastri-leclerc there's literally cameras everywhere on the paddock

natalia leclerc fuck you guys, we want to burn down mclaren for this shit and you won't let us

ollie bearman-leclerc to be fair, she also wanted to light williams on fire after australia and she didn't have an emotional attachment to logan yet.

charles leclerc WRONG!

charles leclerc she's had an emotional attachment to logan since last season. she was always asking about him.

logan sargeant-leclerc aww, she's mother guys

ollie bearman-leclerc that's the worst joke you could've ever fucking made. logan sargeant-leclerc i've made worse jokes and you know it ollie. oscar piastri-leclerc oh ollie, you haven't witnessed how bad his jokes can get

pato o'ward-leclerc i bet mark would let us egg mclaren and zac's car

logan sargeant-leclerc that's literally your boss

pato o'ward-leclerc and i'm just supposed to forget that he paraded the orange donald around the paddock??

natalia leclerc i feel like we moved on too quickly from that as a society

ollie bearman-leclerc the orange donald??

oscar piastri-leclerc oh ollie, sweet innocent naïve ollie logan sargeant-leclerc oh ollie ollie bearman-leclerc i'm so fucking confused charles leclerc i am too, who is this orange donald? natalia leclerc someone get the presentation ready.

SPA 2024

yuki tsunoda i'll bite his fucking ankles

liam lawson i'll take his kneecaps

santiago ruiz why is your first resort always violence??

yuki tsunoda why isn't it yours?

natalia leclerc added 1 person

aurora button i can light his house on fire?

mark webber jesus christ, that's your kid jenson? jenson button yup sure is

max verstappen i'll take him out the next race, trust me.

kimi raïkkönen ???

sebastian vettel don't act dumb now kimi, you're literally the one who sent the threatening email to fred. kimi raïkkönen when the hell did i do that? jenson button earlier this morning? i was literally there with you and seb when you sent it?

pato o'ward-leclerc they're having a threesome

aurora button and somehow i'm the crazy one here daniel ricciardo talk about dream foursome fernando alonso what the hell?

yuki tsunoda and what will the war criminal himself be bringing to the revenge table?

fernando alonso the psychological torture of the sainz family.

natalia leclerc can you marry my dad?

santiago ruiz i'm straight??

fernando alonso to torture the sainz family?? count me in.

mark webber there's no way you're willing to marry someone to fuck with the sainz family. oscar piastri-leclerc hell, i would do it if would fuck with carlos. logan sargeant-leclerc mr. ruiz is a dilf. i would marry tf outta him too. ollie bearman-leclerc i see we're finally admitting that we find mr. ruiz hot max verstappen i had a crush on him too

ben santos-ruiz WHY DO ALL OF YOU FIND MY DAD HOT??

jenson button have you seen your father?? natalia ruiz oh my god not you too kimi raïkkönen sebastian said to say that i agree too max verstappen free kimi from us (but not really we actually need him here)

santiago ruiz i'm flattered but i'm not marrying fernando

fernando alonso consider this, it would make the sainz family livid. santiago ruiz i'll think about it.

yuki tsunoda i can't believe we're doing this for the bit.

daniel ricciardo i mean, i think it would so much funnier if max married him but i doubt kelly would allow that.

aurora button max's old lady is so boring for not letting this happen

max verstappen can we not call my girlfriend old? thanks.

logan sargeant-leclerc so are they getting married over summer break or??

mark webber FERNANDO HAS A GIRLFRIEND?

fernando alonso she understands why i'm doing this.

sebastian vettel this is the best joke we've ever planned

mark webber WHY ARE YOU AGREEING TO THIS?? sebastian vettel because it's fucking hilarious man

oscar piastri-leclerc sounds like someone's mad fernando didn't want to marry him

mark webber die.

ben santos-ruiz god help us all

liked by bensantos_ruiz, pierregasly, lilymhe and others

natalia_leclerc a week spent with the grid kids + grid dads

tagged: charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial, aurorabutton, patriciooward, oscarpiastri, liamlawson30, olliebearman, maxverstappen1, logansargeant

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user12 so i max their grid kid or a grid dad??

user13 he's liam's grid dad?? i thought that was universal knowledge??

francesca.cgomes yes, flaunt that fucking baby bump

natalia_leclerc they already think it's fake, might as well flaunt it

jensonbutton when did my daughter become one of your grid kids??

natalia_leclerc somewhere between bullying carlos, defending my honor, and another secret third thing. jensonbutton what's the secret thing? aurorabutton it's a secret dad, that means you can't know jensonbutton i'm your father? aurorabutton yes, and?

user14 so is fernando natalia's grid dad?

user15 he totally is. i've seen him glare at carlos one too many times this season. user14 oh you're so right. i fear carlos made a mistake, he pissed off the entire grid.

alex_albon so am i not your grid kid??

natalia_leclerc you're more like my grid brother alex_albon i'll take it and if the rumors are true, i'll make his life a living hell charles_leclerc i've never been more proud

maxverstappen1 let the world know you crashed my padel date with charles

natalia_leclerc HE ASKED ME TO COME YOU SID THE SLOTH! danielricciardo i remember when he used to be in love with me, now he's obsessed with charles charles_leclerc i took your seat and your man danielricciardo TOO SOON!

olliebearman at what point can i convince you to adopt kimi?

patriciooward i don't need another brother logansargeant the baby on the way is more than enough oscarpiastri this alone convinces me that i was better off with three sisters instead of three brothers.

yukitsunoda0522 petition to have me as your next grid kid?

natalia_leclerc food included? yukitsunoda0522 anything for the pregnant lady natalia_leclerc score, you are so in yuki, welcome to the family user16 yuki took oscar's mum and his grid mum user17 i can't explain it but it's such a yuki thing to do.

sukiwaterhouse can i be the next mother of your children??

charles_leclerc suki, i will run you over redbullracing he's joking. i promise. sukiwaterhouse i've seen you mad, you look like a disgruntled kitten, bring it car-boy charles_leclerc CAR-BOY??

redbullracing boss man (leo) looks so cool here. kimi is alright.

natalia_leclerc this is why i love you admin redbullracing i'm blushing ☺️

olliebearman so about that family vacation?

logansargeant they might need some time away from us ollie patriciooward from you maybe, not from me. oscarpiastri FROM ALL OF US! aurorabutton speak for yourself aussie. i'm clearly the favorite oscarpiastri YOU'RE NOT EVEN IN THE GROUPCHAT! natalia_leclerc dinner after break? olliebearman as long as charles doesn't cook, i'm in. logansargeant deal!

user18 mother, you have to put us out of our misery. is it 1 or 2 baby leclercs??

natalia_leclerc he participates 5 minutes and suddenly i'm stuck carrying 2 of his spawns bensantos_ruiz it's actually your fault because tio pablo and tia patricia are twins. charles_leclerc i told her that but it's still my fault. user19 TWO BABY LECLERCS?!!

user20 oh this is going to make carlos sainz go even more insane. he's going to be plagued by a mini charles and a mini natalia

user21 dare i say it's a reincarnation of ollie and aurora?? who are basically mini charles and mini natalia?? user22 holy shit, you're so right user23 love that we've all decided it's going to be a boy and girl user20 the world needs to humble carlos sainz so of course it's going to be a boy and a girl

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¡leclerc-s speaks! any ideas on who should be the face-claim for natalia's dad because after this week i would just find it absolutely hilarious if it was pedro pascal because the pictures of him and charles just look like charles is enamoured with him. but any other ideas besides pedro?? now, on a serious note, i will forever hate mclaren for tainting oscar's first win, and he also deserved a proper celebration on the podium, so in my delulu land charles and max were on the podium with him. before anyone asks, yes it does hurt to write logan in this story knowing what's coming but there's no way i'm going to write him off after the williams thing.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #karma series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #charles leclerc x female oc

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nayaesworld · 2 days ago

Text

The Beast in the Woods

Warnings: smut, supernatural!Terry

Word count: 3800+

Don’t let the wolf in through your back door…

Nature attracted Willow for as long as she could remember it enchanted her and she filled her time nurturing plants and animals alike. Some would say she spent way too much time surrounded by thick greenery and that’s why she couldn’t stand to be around people. But Willow just preferred her own company most times.

Buying a cottage smack dead in the middle of lush woods sounded like a nightmare to most, but this was prime real estate to Willow. Mornings were spent feeding the neighboring deer herd and wild bunnies that had taken a liken to her and her vegetable garden. After getting tired of trying to keep them from her garden, she had given in and just decided to share what she couldn’t eat, they had a beautiful balance out there and she was content with her little piece of paradise.

This morning was no different, she had awoken from her soft bed in a cheerful mood, an angel in her own right. Completing her morning routine she shook out her short curls and misted them lightly with a little water. This morning a light fog blanketed the woodlands and she pulled on her hiking boots and coat eager to rush out into it.

Expecting to open her large front door to hungry animals, she was shocked to find her front yard and small porch clear of any wildlife. Shrugging to herself she shoved her phone into her coat pocket and started her trek out to the pond a little ways past her cottage.

She loved to visit it because it was a great spot to take pictures and watch nature move around her. The air was fresh and dewy and she smiled up into it, soaking in the clean fresh country air. She thrived off it.

It didn’t take her long to see the pond up ahead and she began to quicken her pace, rushing to seat herself on a log a few feet from the water. And oddly enough when she sat there and waited, no deer rushed out to meet her, no bunnies nibbled at her boots, and no birds chirped from their high perches. Something felt off, it was eerily quiet in the usually loud and bustling woods. Willow felt out of place and oddly like a sitting duck, what had happened between yesterday and now? Sighing to herself she felt like what people said about her was true, if this is what her happiness depended on… was she broken? She admitted she wasn’t into what your typical twenty-three year old was into, but twenty somethings weren’t a monolith… they couldn’t possibly expect her to like something just because they did.

“Maybe I do need to go out and meet people… this is pathetic.” She mumbled to herself and tugged on her short curls, she didn’t wanna beat herself down over human companionship… not again. It had never gotten her anywhere before, but every now and again she truly did long for someone, someone to love and care for outside of her animals. A man? She laughed out loud this time. Would she know the first thing to do with a man? How to cater to him, feed him, pleasure him? God no, she had no such idea the first thing to do with a man,and maybe that’s why she’d never been with one.

Twisting her lips to the side, she decided she wouldn’t make this trip into the woods a depressing one. She would make the very best of it all.

He’d spent the last two weeks watching the little brown beauty flit and twirl effortlessly through the woods. It had been exactly two weeks since he caught a scent so strong and enticing in the wind, that he could only focus on one thing until he found her. Her scent had traveled for miles on the wind, over rivers and lakes and smacked him dead in the face. A sweet scent that reminded him of the honeysuckle that grew in large vines in the bushes, at first he fought to overcome the bloodlust but now he realized he had succumbed to it.

The constant stalking and eying had made him a student to her never changing routine. Each morning she would water her garden and feed the wild animals that gratefully took the easy food from her,each afternoon she would walk the trail to the pond, and she would end her day meditating on a mat in the middle of her flower garden.

Did she know that he’d been watching and waiting around to be fed by her? To feed from her, to soak in the very life force that pumped through her veins. He felt feral and out of his own body most times he was in close proximity of her, the beast inside grinding and gnawing at his mind.

Today was no different; her humming and singing through the woods had alerted him, he cocked his head towards the music coming from her mouth, listening and intrigued yet again. Wasn’t she afraid to be taken out here all alone? Hadn’t she known that she could be snatched and no one would ever find a trace? What was she trying to prove, he felt insulted by her lack of awareness, maybe she needed something to scare her into a sense of self preservation.

This night he knew he could no longer hold back, he felt the presence of the full moon before nightfall ever came, it compelled him to do two things, feed and fuck. Would she even survive something so animalistic as him, and would she accept him for who he truly was? Her love for all things furry and wild made him believe so, but he wouldn’t bet that her pretty little eyes would fill with terror and flee at what he truly was, the form he would take every full moon.

He didn’t have all day to get close to her, so he began to plan his attempt…

Dressed in a cream colored milkmaid dress Willow twirled from side to side, she felt pretty and ethereal. Her curly hair was pulled into a low ponytail and she left her short curly bangs to grace her forehead, slipping on her chocolate brown cowgirl boots she hurried out her back door and into her backyard to water her flowers.

Turning on her water hose she turned the nozzle a few times to her preferred setting and drenched her thirsty plants with water. Her sunflowers had wilted a little from her neglect, but she was hopeful they would perk right on up by tomorrow morning. Walking over and checking her rose bush, she snipped a few stems with her garden pliers and slipped them into her glass vase. These would look gorgeous in her kitchen window. She enjoyed the extended sunlight because on days like this she could water her flowers at 8 pm.

A twig snapping in the close distance snapped her from admiring her flowers, standing to her full height she waited for the deer to come to her… but they never did, instead to her horror she watched a man step out from the woods. Dropping the water hose from her hand she stood in shock, she stared out at him confused by his presence yet curious. Did she have new neighbors?

“Hello…umm are you lost?” Her chipper voice carried across the small meadow.

“Yess… and I’m hurt… I was attacked out in the woods and lost my phone. I’m bleeding and I need to call for help.” His deep voice touched her ear drums and rattled her head, it was so rich and she found herself wanting to hear him talk more.

“I.. umm.. I have a phone you could use, but you’d have to wait outside. Is that ok?” She wanted to help but she still was weary of strangers, no matter how handsome.

“Yes that’s fine with me….thank you.” She watched him walk closer and she stepped into her back door to grab her cell phone. When she made it back outside the size of the man smacked her in the face, even sitting on her bench he seemed to be just as tall as her standing up. The shirt that clung to his body was like a second skin, ready to rip to pieces at any sudden movement. His arms were huge and his bulging biceps were the same size as her head. Stepping closer to him she noticed the blood dripping from his side where a large gash had ripped into his shirt and skin.

“Oh my god… your side.. are you sure you should bleed out like this?” Her panicked questions came out in a blur, this was worse than she had imagined.

“No… I feel dizzy and hot. I need some water please… I feel like I might pass out.” The handsome stranger looked green in the face, like his life was fading away slowly and that he might not last long.

Willow couldn’t let this man die in her backyard. Throwing caution to the wind, she helped him off the bench and let him inside her home to her dining table.

Rushing to her medicine cabinet she pulled out gauze pads and peroxide along with a ointment to help clean the wound while it was patched up.

“I-I can help you ok…. Please don’t die on me…hello, sir can you hear me?” Raising his head from her dining table he put a thumbs up, and she breathed out heavily. Placing the first aid kit on her table she watched him lift his shirt, grimacing as the fabric and old blood stuck to the gash.

“I’m sorry if this hurts… but it’s all I have for something like this… are you ready?” Lifting his head he peered into her eyes and nodded his head. Uncapping the peroxide she quickly doused the wound, the fizzle of it drowned out by his loud groans. His fist balled up at his sides and she lightly placed her hand on his back.

Hurrying to douse it one more time for good measure she cleaned the debris and blood from the area and placed a large gauze over the area. Rushing to her fridge she grabbed two cold bottles of water and sat them in front of him. Uncapping the water she watched across the kitchen as he sucked down both bottles insanely fast. Could her day get any weirder?

It worked? The injured stranger ploy had really worked. He wasn’t too surprised though and enjoyed her tending to his self inflicted wound, her small warm hands felt like dancing fire on his skin, flickering and flitting as they pleased. Yet trying not to hurt him.

Her small frame was now across the kitchen as she carefully watched him, probably wishing she hadn’t let him into her home.

“Thank you… I imagine it wasn’t easy to let a stranger into your home… but I’m appreciative.” He let his voice drop and become soft, and he watched her form straighten up. A small smile gracing her perfect cherub face before she spoke.

“Umm…you are very welcome…are you from around here… you can still call someone if you need to?” Oh he would be doing no such thing, he was exactly where he needed to be; wanted to be. The lion oh so entranced with the lamb…

“Yess I’d still like to take that call if I can.” Placing her phone into his large hands he pretended to dial a number as he faked a phone call to a family member.

As he ended the fake call he glanced at the time in the corner of her screen… 10:30 pm.

He couldn’t hold it in anymore, felt it in his bones, felt it where she touched him. The full moon loomed over the cottage like a bat signal, and he watched her chest rise and fall with her breast. Her perky titties sitting up in her little milk maiden dress, he heard the pulse racing in her veins. Was she getting scared? She should be, you don’t talk to strangers and you certainly don’t let them into your home.

“So… is-is someone gonna come to pick you up…. If not that’s fine … I can drop you where you need to go?” She was growing suspicious of him; he even smelt a little fear mixed into the air. Was he sick to be turned on by this little doe’s fear, couldn’t he just walk away and spare her… no he had gone too far already to turn back.

“No one is coming to get me… and I don’t want you to drop me anywhere… I’m exactly where I need to be, sweetheart.” Grinning at her he could feel his canines begin to elongate and come to a point. Her eyes widened as she backed into the corner in her kitchen, he raised out of her kitchen chair and stalked towards her.

“Please don’t make this hard for me little doe… I’m here to bring you pleasure… and a little pain if you let me.” He took her face into his hands and sniffed the jet black curls on her head, filling his nose with the pomegranate scent from her favorite hair care line.

She smelled sweet from head to toe, a lamb walking into a lions den. She finally let her big chocolate orbs meet his and he watched the fear wash from her body, what had she seen in his eyes that caused a sudden change of heart… she couldn’t possibly feel for him what he felt for her.

“Please don’t hurt me….I don’t want you to hurt me… please be gentle.” Ahh so she was giving in, and she didn’t even know what to. She didn't know that she’d be devoured from the inside out and ravished. She took the first chance she could to lean up and press her lips to his, her little body felt electrical. Sparks flying from her hot skin, he growled and curled his large hand around her slim neck and hungry introduced her mouth to his tongue.

“Why are you giving yourself to me so eagerly… aren’t you afraid?” He watched as she shook her head no, she should be.

“No… I’ve waited for something like this for so long… why be scared? You won’t hurt me… right?” His intense ocean eyes squinted as they stared down at her, opening his mouth he revealed his long canines. Her dainty hand reached up with her pointer finger and touched his teeth in awe. As she began to retract her hand he captured it in his and sucked her finger into his hot mouth.

“Wha-what are you?” Her breath came out in shudders as he reached into the crook of her neck to nip into it.

“I’m a beast you’ll learn to love… or you’ll die trying.” Tugging her ponytail back he extended her neck further and ran his tongue along her jumping pulse, it was all he could hear right now outside of her little gasps. What did her blood taste like?

Slinging the little brown beauty over his shoulder he carried her down the hall to her bedroom. The room smelled of her, had a boho vibe and was filled with greenery. A true reflection of the little nature fairy he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into. She had long ago kicked off her boots and now only resided in her cream dress, brown eyes low with need.

“This is my first time… will you be gentle with me…I want this to be special.” She was cute, cute to assume gentle is what she’d achieve fucking with an animal. The news excited him and furthered his own obsession for her, could humans carry Lycan cubs… he was being irrational, hung up on the thought of never feeling loneliness again.

He pulled her up and watched her undress, all that was left… a pair of white cotton panties. Stripping out his own clothes he moved to hover above her and suckled her c cup breast into his mouth. His large tongue sucking her pebbled nipples into his mouth, her skin even tasted sweet… whatever homemade body cream she had whipped up; her skin the scent of mangoes. Moaning low in his ears he watched her writhe beneath him, thighs rubbing together to apply friction to her dripping pussy.

“Aht aht… let me work my way down to it lil mama… are you wet yet?” Still sucking on her breast he raked his hand down her body until they met the hem of her panties. Sliding his hands into her panties he felt the wet spot forming in the front and groaned. This wet little pussy was priming itself for him, and it had no idea what was in store. His finger rubbed up and down her wet lips, slowly reaching the little slit that poured liquid like a faucet.

“Please… put it in please I’m begging.” Her pants were music to his ears and he pushed his middle finger into her warm entrance and stroked slowly, listening to the squish get louder and louder. Her legs widened and he positioned her to sit with her back to his chest and pull her legs up to hers. He ordered her to kick off her panties and lay against him as he worked on adding his second finger.

“Ahh-hmm… please…pl- oh I want to cum… can I please” she squealed out at him and he sped his fingers up, smacking into her fat mound at a speed she couldn’t catch on too. Her breath rushed out of her breath quickly and before he knew it a clear coat of liquid coated his fingers. Pulling his fingers out he observed the liquid up close and placed it to his nose. His own personal drug, he was sure his eyes had crossed as he let the sticky fluid touch his tongue.

Moving from behind her he stood in front of her and grabbed her chin into his hand. “I want you to taste yourself… taste this sweet pussy.” She allowed his tongue to seize her mouth, and their tongues tangled in her mouth. He was changing again, his nail beds now long, dawning claws at the bed of them.

He stood again dick hung and swinging in front of her… it was now or never. He had to take this little doe and expose her to the reality of him. He couldn’t ignore the worried expression on her face if she tried.

“Listen to me, I can only make this gentle if you relax for me… if you seize up it will hurt… I need you to trust me and let me do this for you.”

“Ok… I’ll try.” Her voice came out low but his ears caught her words. Laying her down on her back he placed her legs on either side of his head and started to lead that fat head of his penis into her tight little hole. It was excruciating for him… the pressure her walls put on him made him eager to hold her down and pound her out… but he had to go slow and be patient for her. He lifted up and watched her face, it was scrunched up and her mouth laid wide open sucking in air slowly, sliding another few inches in he felt her hands rest at his hips to stop him.

“Just a little slower ... .please” and slow is what he gave her, pulling all the way out he started over. Eager to have her begging to be filled with ten inches of supernatural dick. The slow stroking opened up a small water park between them, her cunt now open and taking his heavier strokes.

Her bed shook and smacked into the wall loudly as he slammed down into her awaiting pussy. Pulling out he drug her body towards the edge of the bed and pressed her knees into her chest; continuing his assault on her good pussy he anchored himself to the floor and dipped his hips, knocking the Mario coins out of her. Reaching out to grab at his back she gasped for air, her face a mixture of confusion and ecstasy.

“Oh-ahh… please I feel something…. I have to pee please… oooweee.” This put his stroking into overdrive and he watched as a geyser erupted from between them.

Her spent body splayed out in front of him, he felt the effects of the full moon begin to fully change him. She watched in fear as his body contorted and twisted, skin ripping apart to make way for fur and claws. His already large ears thinned out and grew long on top of his head, his mouth elongating into a snout. The creature barely able to stand up fully in her bedroom watched her carefully, she was too afraid to move a muscle and offered herself up to the beast.

It moved towards her in a stalking manner and stroked the soft skin of her cheek. “Please don’t stop…. I still want more…. I don’t care if this is what you really are.”

He had waited to hear those words all night long, and indeed had no plans on stopping. Careful not to scratch her with his long claws he flipped Willow over and arched her back, sitting her ass as high up as he could get it. The beast growled as it reached down to lap at the wetness that still leaked from her, the long dick between his legs jumping having a mind of its own.

Leading his penis into her snug hole he lifted his head back and howled, the sound booming throughout her house and her brain, the strokes were hard and fast. The constant feeling of fur brushing against her body tickled her and made her pussy leak more into him. A small cut formed from where his claws had nicked her and he reached down and suckled at the blood.

“Ohhh fuck me… har-harder…. Yessss baby please.” She was lost in euphoria, clouded and claimed by the beast’s presence. He continued to pound into her alarmingly fast, reaching down to tug on her curls.

His hips began to falter and she felt her walls tugging on his dick, with a deep growl and a nip to her neck she felt him pumping his semen into her. His full body weight on her she could only lay there and succumb.

Willow awoke the next day feeling….freshly fucked. Her mind and body wrapped in a mini coma that she would gladly endure again and again. Turning around she stared down at the beautiful man in bed next to her…he had come into her life and quite literally rocked it.

“You never told me your name.” She pouted down at him and accepted a peck to her lips.

“I’m Terry… Terry Richmond.”

A/N: I am so insane for this😭it’s currently 3am my time and I just finished typing this up… it was a random thought at like 8pm and I was like woah wtf. Anywho I really hope yall like it🫶🏾

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @keyaho @kimuzostar @theereina @fakxmbj @uzumaki-rebellion @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair

#terry richmond #supernatural #werewolf #black women

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zara-renata · 10 hours ago

Note

Hello and good morning~ I was listening to RED by taylor swift while working and suddenly ALL I could think of was the Sylus series (and how MC thinks she was rejected). 💙❤️ Think this song fits them so well

I have been meaning to answer this ask since you sent it, but it gave me a little Scenario that I had to carry around in my head until I could figure out how to work it into a story. Your ask, in combination with a post by @leaderincrows about wanting to see Sylus collared and gasping pathetically, led to this story. I hope the result is enjoyable. Thanks so much for sending this ask, and I'm sorry it took 8 million years to answer!

Goodcat code, or how you learned to care for your catboy | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Your crimelord boyfriend disappears for a week, you make yourself sad listening to breakup songs, you learn that he got turned into a catboy, you get assigned a mission on the worst cruise ship ever, undercover shenanigans ensue. Loosely based on the Sylus memory Goodcat Code.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, sylus x mc, second person POV, some Sylus POV MC is referred to by they/them pronouns, intended as a placeholder for your preferred pronouns. Established relationship, can be read as a standalone. This story contains: profanity, activities of a sexual nature, violence, probably too much internal monologue and not enough action, too many feelings and not enough sexual activity, inappropriate use of a tail, an argument with your boyfriend, a happy ending.

You wonder if it’s because you trounced him in kitty cards the last time you played.

The silence.

For the past week, your phone has been pinging with constant notifications but none with My Sy listed as the sender. Just work, spam, Xavier asking if you want to go to the bookstore the next time you’re both free, Tara spamming you with pleas to go to some shitty club where her latest favorite indie EDM DJ is playing—why she thinks that her insistence that “He looks just like Skye, I promise!” is enough incentive for you to wade through loud, sweaty, touch-feely dancers as you can’t help constantly checking the exits, while simultaneously making sure a molly-rolling Tara doesn’t abscond to the bathroom with a mistake waiting to happen, while being subjected to mediocre beats from her artist-of-the week, is beyond you. “Skye” is gorgeous, yes, but you’d rather admire the real thing up close than squint through a fog-machine haze to look at a cheap knock-off.

Maybe Sylus’s snobbery is rubbing off on you.

Then again, Tara doesn’t know how up close you get to examine Skye on a regular basis, so perhaps you’re being unfair, because you’re in a terrible mood, because you haven’t heard from him for a week now.

Because maybe you won’t have the chance to see “Skye” up close ever again. Because all you have is a deafening silence from him, and it started the day after you wiped the floor with him at the kitty cafe playing kitty cards.

Could something so petty cause him to finally lose interest in you, the way you've feared ever since you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that Sylus may be romantically interested in you?

It’s not your fault that the longer you spend time with him, the more you have unraveled his mysteries. If he doesn’t want to be so easy to beat, he needs to try harder to be less predictable. You never would have thought, when you first met him, that you’d ever think the words “predictable” and “Sylus” in the same sentence, but the mercurial man is like clockwork when it comes to kitty cards.

He always, always offers you the chance to go first. Why on earth would you say no, and then lose the chance to play your inevitably shitty, low-value cards in the matching colored cups, just to prevent him from playing one of his inevitably high valued cards in the matching cup?

He grumbles, tries to give “helpful” advice about being patient and gambling on drawing a higher value card instead, all the while doing the exact same thing when it’s his turn and he has a shit hand. The condescending hypocrite. You stew a bit thinking about it.

And then, you’ve long since learned that the arrogant bastard is cheating while you play. He somehow marks the cards—you don’t know how. Something to do with his evol? He refuses to admit it outright, so you doubt you’ll ever know. But what you first thought was a generous habit of offering to give you two of his cards for one of yours, actually turns out to be an opportunity for him to offload his low value cards and give himself a chance to poach your higher value cards. You refuse his offers now.

And lastly, you’ve figured out that for all of Sylus’s skill, brilliant brain, and talent at strategy, the man has a few weaknesses that you are ruthlessly willing to exploit to gain the upper hand to beat him despite all of his dirty tricks.

Namely, he’s easily distracted by a few very specific things.

Your mouth being one of them.

So last week, you went first, played your shit cards in the colored cups, refused his offers to trade, and ordered a strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream to enjoy while you played.

He leaned back in his seat at the kitty cafe where he was sitting across from you, manspreading as usual, arms casually draped over the back of the booth, the picture of casual, smug confidence. The dictionary definition of winner.

“Do you really have the luxury of splitting your focus between the game and your dessert, kitten? It looks like you need all of your concentration just to keep up, let alone win this round,” he drawled, secure in his five point lead over you. It was his turn, and yet he had time to taunt you.

You just shrugged, holding your cards fanned in one hand, dipping your finger in the whipped cream with your other. You brought it to your lips, pretending to think very hard about which card you’d play next when all of them were crap, and rubbed the cream over your bottom lip.

You heard a sharp inhale from the other side of the table, but ignored it. You “absentmindedly” flicked your tongue out, gathering the cream there before swallowing and biting your lip pensively.

“It’s good,” you murmured, not taking your eyes off your cards. “Not too sweet.”

Silence. It took all of your willpower not to look up to see what his face was doing. But you heard him place a kitty in a cup, its cute little meow signaling the start of your turn.

You let your gaze flick back and forth between the board and your cards. Good. It was working. He played a low value card in a white cup instead of drawing a new card like he should have.

You put your crap sage card in the last sage-colored cup. Sylus tsked and drew a new card.

This time, you picked up one of the glazed strawberries adorning the shortcake and placed it between your lips, sucking on it gently as you “thought.”

The groan coming from across the table was so low that you almost didn’t hear it over the sounds of the cafe—other players chatting, the meows of the kitties, the clink of cutlery and tableware. But you heard it, even through your tinnitus.

You played another low value card in a matching cup—the last one. Unless he had a six, this round is yours.

You finally dared to look up and find Sylus glaring at you, all while petting a beautiful, tawny colored cafe cat that had apparently settled in his lap while you were busy trying to distract him and beat his ass at this ridiculous game.

“Sy, you know the rules of the cafe—no petting the cats unless we pay extra!” You looked around furtively, forgetting the game, worried that the staff were going to get mad and kick you both out for this breach of etiquette. You pay first, then pet!

“I can’t help it if, unlike some, this particular kitty is straightforward enough to ask for pets from me,” he said pointedly. “Who am I to deny its desires?”

In response, you popped the strawberry fully into your mouth, closed your eyes, and bit down, letting out a genuine little sound of appreciation for the sweet fruit.

Suddenly there was a disgruntled mewl from across the table. You opened your eyes and saw Sylus with a death grip on the cat where he was previously petting it gently. The cat squirmed, trying to get off of his lap. He blinked and let go of the cat, which then bolted off of his lap like he had just yanked its tail—which he hadn’t, but Sylus’s grip was no joke. You would know.

He watched the cat, a rare apologetic look on his face, before turning to glare at you again. “If we get kicked out, it will be your fault,” he accused.

You just looked back at him innocently. “What on earth did I do?”

“Maybe I’ve been too soft with you, and you’ve gotten too comfortable with me—you grow more cunning by the day,” he said softly, almost like a threat, but he looked… pleased.

“Still have no idea what you’re talking about,” you hummed, taking a big forkful of the shortcake and shoving it in your mouth.

Sylus just groaned again. He lost every game the two of you played the rest of the evening.

When you parted ways with him, heading back home to sleep while he was heading to a meeting, he pulled you into his arms as you stood by your motorcycle. He breathed in your hair and sighed, and then pulled away, turning on his heel, and walking away without a backwards glance.

And that’s the last you heard from him since that night.

You sit at your kitchen table, staring glumly out into the chill fall night. Your phone lights up, but it’s just Rafayel sending a photo of a little crab brandishing a plastic spork captioned Lol littering humans suck but at least this trash is useful for this lil guy he’s got a sword now

You often wonder why both Rafayel and Sylus sometimes refer to humans as if they themselves are not also human. You text back.

You: he just needs a shield. give him a bottle cap and he can fight wanderers with me

Fried Shrimp: nope he’s my new bodyguard because you suck too and have been too busy lately to guard my body like you promised

You: you’re perfectly capable of guarding yourself you pyromaniac

Rafayel just responds with a poop emoji.

You consider his text. Rafayel may have a point for once—you have been spending every free moment that you're not working with Sylus lately.

Which is bad. You don’t want him to take over your life. You want to maintain a balanced, a healthy relationship with him, if possible. It would be so easy to let yourself be consumed by his charismatic, overwhelming presence in your life. But what happens when he disappears as quickly as he appeared?

You don’t want to think about it. But that point may have already arrived. You stare at your dark phone again.

You could… call him first. Or send a text. But you’re not to the point where you can bring yourself to contact him first. If he wants to talk to you, he isn’t shy about reaching out for your attention. He calls almost every day. To tell you that you need to expect a package. To complain about his bad luck at a poker game with business rivals. To pester you about when you’ll come visit him again. Mephisto hasn’t seen your face for two days, he’s starting to pout. The twins brought home ten different flavors of syrup for the espresso machine, look at what you’re doing to them, they’re going to get diabetes at this rate.

You don’t think you’re to the point of being able to handle being left on read by this man if you send a text first and he doesn’t answer.

It’s time to wallow. You reach for your phone, pull up your music app, and put Taylor Swift’s RED on repeat.

You’ll give it a few more days, and then you’ll put on Olivia Rodrigo. After another week, it will be Sabrina Carpenter, because you’ll probably have entered the anger stage of grief by then. After that, it will be Hozier, when you finally accept that Sylus will never be calling again and try to find the beauty in everything you’ve lost.

***

“Status report?” Sylus growls into the phone.

“Boss, I really think that you should reconsider this course of action,” Kieran’s voice is just loud enough for Sylus to be able to hear over the absolute cacophony of the closed cat cafe, which is considerable, even with his double, hypersensitive hearing due to his current… condition.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I asked for a status update,” Sylus hisses, and then clears his throat. He totally meant to hiss just then. His hissing has nothing to do with his current affliction.

“But I really must insist—” Kieran tries to argue, but he’s drowned out by the cat cafe’s OTTO.

“Caracal Butler! May I remind you that not only is your customer satisfaction rating in the negatives, but you are also not allowed to make personal phone calls on the kitties’ time!” The OTTO hovers menacingly in front of him.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” he responds, voice dripping with sarcasm. Even the robot should be able to discern his disdain.

“You should be,” it says, threateningly.

“Oh? And what are the kitties going to do that’s worse than what they’ve already done.” He flicks some cat hair off of his bespoke tuxedo. The fact that he’s going to have to get it de-haired and dry cleaned if he ever wants to wear it again just adds insult to injury, as he had been hoping to wear it with you to a Linkon City Symphony Orchestra’s performance soon. He had a matching outfit tailored for you at the same time he ordered this tux, so he has resigned himself to getting the damn thing cleaned when this... ordeal is over.

The OTTO jerks him out of his irritation with its nagging voice module. “It is protocol for this kitty cafe to act as a responsible caretaker for the kitties under our care. We require spaying and neutering of all kitties under this roof. You have not yet received such care.”

The threat in response to his sarcasm could not be clearer.

He narrows his eyes at the OTTO and feels his tail swish menacingly as his ears press flat to his hair.

“Come anywhere near my balls and I’ll fill this cat cafe with so many cat toys of the loud, exploding variety that there will be nothing left of either it, the cats, or you except a smoking crater.”

The OTTO flits backwards out of Sylus’s reach.

“Perhaps Caracal Butler may be allowed a limited number of private phone calls on the kitties’ time without repercussions,” it says, tone placating as it drifts quickly to the other side of the room.

“That’s what I thought,” Sylus growls again, and not because he’s been stripped of his evol and cursed with two fucking cat ears and a tail that betrays his emotions no matter how much self control he tries to exert, but because he meant to growl.

He returns his attention back to the phone as his patience wears ever thinner. “Status. Report.”

“Boss, I really must insist—” Kieran tries again, tone incredibly concerned, before being interrupted by Luke.

“Your hunter is listening to breakup songs and mopily staring at their phone every spare moment they get.”

Sylus’s ears swivel around to full attention and his tail thwacks a kitty climbing tower so hard it’s almost knocked off its base.

“Breakup songs? Why—”

“They obviously think you’ve ghosted them,” Luke continues. “Keep this up and you’re gonna lose them.”

Sylus tilts his head. Could you really believe that he’s capable of ever leaving your side before you tell him to leave and mean it? What an absolutely ridiculous notion. His tail swishes thoughtfully. He did not want you to see him like this—stripped of his power, kneeling to these demanding cats like a… well. Like a fucking catboy butler. He has his pride, after all. He was hoping that the curse would fade quickly and you’d be too busy with work and your social life to notice that he has been absent for a little while. And you hadn’t reached out to him either, during this time. He runs his gloved hand along his bottom lip before realizing that he’s been touching cats all day, makes a disgusted face, and taps his temple instead. Why hadn’t you reached out to him? His mind drifts over memories of all of your interactions with him when you are apart and he's been forced to make do with communicating to you via phone and text.

This is not the first time that it occurs to him that you have never, not once, reached out to him first. He is always the one calling you, texting you, sending you packages.

He stops, tail and ears still. He has noticed it, but he hasn't thought about it deeply. He's willing to chase you to the end of time, after all. But now, he wonders what he's missing. He is almost entirely sure that you miss him as much as he misses you when you’re apart. You always pick up the phone. You always respond to texts. As for sending packages, you've grumbled about not knowing what to gift a man who has everything, but he always reassures you that he already has everything he wants, as long as you’re there.

So why is it that you have never reached out to him first? He flicks his ears. It would be nice, if you reached out first, every once in a while. He doesn't require it. But it would be nice. He tucks that thought away for further analysis after the current problem is fixed.

Time to assess the damage, and then engage in damage control.

“What kind of breakup songs?” he asks.

“Currently listening to RED by Taylor Swift.”

Sylus considers. Taylor Swift isn’t as bad as Sabrina Carpenter, or Hozier. Once you start with Hozier, Sylus will really be worried.

“Are you gonna stop being a big scaredy-cat and contact your hunter now?” Luke demands, sounding absolutely done with his ridiculous boss and his equally ridiculous partner.

Sylus values the intel they just provided, so he lets the insubordination slide. This time.

“I will remedy the situation. You’re dismissed from hunter observation detail.”

All he hears are twinned sighs of relief and then the phone disconnecting. He stares at it. What impudent henchmen.

He turns and wades through the meandering cats to the OTTO.

“I’m leaving, but I will be back to fulfill my contract once a personal emergency has been resolved.”

The OTTO, with his previous threats clearly still fresh in its memory, meekly allows him to pass without any fuss.

He steps out into the cold winter evening, the street lights and bright advertisements of Linkon City temporarily blinding him. Normally he would just teleport along rooftops to get to you as quickly as possible in such an emergency, but with this fucking curse, he has to make his way to your home like a regular human. His lip curls in disgust, but then he schools his face into its customary blank, intimidating expression as he notices people passing by gawking at his swishing tail and his cat ears. He’s drawing enough attention to himself without looking threatening while doing it. He quickly strides to where he parked his motorcycle, jams his helmet on his head, and breaks six different traffic laws trying to get to your place as quickly as possible.

***

You’re trying to wallow, snuggled into your bedding with a tray of some sad soup heated up from a can and a chunk of stale bread, when your hunter watch pings. You flick through the new assignment. Some asshole smuggler in biologically modified wanderers code-named “Snowy Owl” apparently needs to be brought down. You slurp some soup while you try to formulate a plan of action for snaring this new target, who has in turn snared many innocent wanderers to then sell them to shady collectors with who knows what kind of intentions for them.

This is just the sort of thing that you’ve all too easily grown accustomed to discussing with Sylus, due to his spiderweb of connections through the underworld. But isn’t that part of the problem? Where before you would rely on yourself and Association resources to arrange a mission of this kind, now you’re all too comfortable relying on Sylus for help. That sort of sloppiness is unacceptable, and the gaping absence he’s left behind in the last week only serves to drive that point home. You cannot let the blade of your skills dull because of reliance on your all-too-willing-to-help boyfriend. Maybe ex-boyfriend, you think miserably.

You sigh, leaning back, turning up the music that you had previously turned down to focus on the mission details. You’re trying to drown out all thoughts of the man who you need to get out of your head, only to find yourself yelping in surprise and flinging the tray with the soup at the tall intruder who has just silently appeared at the side of your bed—who you hadn’t heard at all, as if they had entered on padded cat paws.

Only to realize halfway through the soup’s trajectory that the intruder is Sylus and he’s wearing a very fancy suit.

All the previous times you have flung tableware containing hot liquid at him, Sylus has been able to dodge the container, if not its contents, because of his evol. But this time he’s struck square in the chest by both the soup and the soup bowl. It hits one big pec with a dull thud and then crashes to your floor. He stands there, dripping soup, looking down at his dress shoes.

“The fuck, Sylus,” you breathe, not because he appeared out of nowhere in your home, again, but because you can clearly see two twitching, incredibly real-looking cat ears—tawny, fuzzy on the insides, coming to a beautiful, regal black point at the top—swiveling through his gorgeous silver hair. As your eyes travel down his long, lovely body, they catch on a flicking cat-tail with the same coloring as his ears. Something about the fur strikes you as familiar, but you can’t quite figure out why.

“Darling. Dearest to my heart. My heart, in fact, beating within the safety of my ribcage. Could you, perhaps, in the future, try to refrain from assaulting me with molten liquid when I surprise you in your home.” His tail swishes, swishes, swishes behind him, and you’re utterly mesmerized. It takes a moment for it to sink in that Sylus is actually here. You want to scramble off the bed, climb him like a tree, the dripping soup be damned, and just hug him. Now that you’re seeing him in person for the first time in a whole week, you are able to actually feel how much you’ve missed him, instead of suppressing, repressing, pretending that the unending ache didn’t hurt so terribly much.

You’re about to launch yourself at him when you remember why you had been feeling this way all week. Where the hell has he been? And why does he have cat attributes now? Well, more than he already had to begin with, you snicker internally, until you remember that you’re still feeling heartbroken and wary of why he has shown up now after ghosting you all week. Are you being melodramatic? Are you being immature? Are you being unfair? Could you have called him to check in, when he didn’t? You eye his ears. His tail. Yes to all of the above, but it doesn’t change how you simply can’t bring yourself to go to him, and instead draw further back, away from him, on the bed.

He apparently doesn’t miss your movement, as his ears swivel forward as you move, and then flatten onto the top of his head as he assumes an aggressively bored expression on his face.

“Not going to answer me?” he growls. Actually growls, like a cat warning a naughty kitten.

You can’t help yourself. “Who’s actually the kitten now, Sylus?”

His tail flicks violently behind him.

“Careful, kitten. Perhaps you’ve forgotten in the past week that this cat has claws,” he says, low and menacing.

You just laugh at him.

“Mmmm, yes, your oh-so-so sharp claws, which are now covered in soup. What are you doing here?”

He narrows his eyes at your unimpressed reaction to his empty threat. “Do I need a reason to visit my heart?”

The more he acts like nothing has changed, as if he didn’t just disappear on you without a word for a week, the more wound up and jittery you feel. “What heart?” you ask, a little petulantly.

He lifts an eyebrow. “You know the answer to that question.”

“Do I? Not a very important organ, if you can survive a week without it,” you grumble.

His ears swivel forward, and his tail starts to… wag, but his facial expression doesn’t change.

You immediately regret revealing so much.

“Ah,” is all he says, but he sounds pleased.

You look away, out the window. But all you see is Sylus in the reflection, and the dark night beyond. You’ve said too much already.

“I’m going to change. And then we’re going to talk,” he announces, and it sounds like a purr.

You feel silly as you realize that Taylor Swift is still warbling loudly in your bedroom about loving him but losing him so suddenly, trying to stop when you’re already in free fall, loving him being like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all. You flick off the music.

He’s here again. He’s here again, but for how long?

You hear water running in the bathroom as you go to the kitchen to grab some towels and return to your bedroom to mop up the soup, tidying your embarrassingly messy flat along the way. You return to bed and wait for him.

After a few minutes, Sylus emerges from your bathroom clad in one of the soft sweaters and silk sleep pants he keeps in your closet. You can’t help yourself again—you stare at where his tail emerges from under the sweater. The flexible waistband of the pants must have been pushed down a little over his ass to accommodate where his tail emerges.

He strides to the bed and pauses next to it. “May I?” he asks, tail flicking, ears twitching.

You nod, and he prowls onto your duvet on his hands and knees. Before settling next to you, however, he turns in a circle, once, twice, three times, before sinking down and pulling you into his arms, your back to his chest, curling around you. You let him, feeling the flood of safety and sense of wholeness that you always get when Sylus is touching you. You sigh. All of your worries seem so trite now. Why didn’t you just text him first? Why did you wait for him to reach out first? Why are you like this?

As if reading your mind, Sylus says, “Were you worried this week?”

His arms are wrapped tightly around you, he has one leg shoved between yours, and you feel his tail curl around your bare ankle. Its fur is so, so soft.

You nod.

“Why didn’t you call me, then?”

You don’t want to tell him how afraid you are of him finally not answering. Of him finally losing interest. It sounds so pathetic to even think it, let alone say it out loud.

“I’m sorry about your fancy suit,” is all you can say.

He hums, and his tail wraps tighter around your ankle. “It’s a tuxedo. And it can be cleaned.”

“Fancy suit, tuxedo—pretentious, overpriced pieces of fabric,” you tease him.

“My heart is a heathen,” he sighs into your hair. “It’s a tux that matches pretentious, overpriced pieces of fabric that happen to fit your body perfectly.”

“What use do I have for such fabric?” you ask, turning in his arms, lulled by his familiar humor, his still-unexplained tail wrapped around your ankle. You lie on your side, facing him. His ears twitch in your direction.

“There's a ticket to the Linkon City Symphony Orchestra with your name on it. You should note the date in your agenda.”

“What if my agenda is already full? I haven’t heard from you for a week.”

His ears flatten in his hair. “You’d replace me in just a week?”

You hum a little, reaching up to run a finger along one cat ear. He makes a purring sound, deep in his throat, closing his lovely eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replace you, even if I wanted to,” you murmur, lost in his presence again, feeling safe now that he’s here again. But the week was long, and you really were afraid he’d left for good, no matter how silly it seems now. “But maybe I thought you had replaced me,” you admit, marveling at how soft the ear is, how good it feels to caress it between your forefinger and thumb. You want to kiss it, rub your face all over it. You lift your other hand and fondle his other ear.

His tail loosens on your ankle and begins drifting up your bare leg, the fur caressing your skin so gently, until it curls around one thigh and squeezes between your legs, right below where your thighs meet. You shiver at the sensation and forget to pet him for a moment.

“You should have more faith in your pet. Sometimes cats have business in the neighborhood that keeps them away for a few days, but they always come back home.”

“Did your ‘business’ have anything to do with your new accessories?”

He leans, shoving his head against your hands to remind you to keep petting him, and his tail drifts up, up, until it’s nudging between your legs. You gasp softly at the delicious pressure, but have enough presence of mind to keep massaging his ears.

“Yes,” he murmurs, a little breathless. “Like that.” You continue, and he continues teasing you with his tail. It’s not enough. You want more of him.

“How did you get the cat ears and tail, Sy?” you ask, trying to remain focused.

The tail nudges you a little harder—you can’t help the jerk of your hips which sends you rocking into him, where you’re met with his hard dick under the fabric of his pants. The sensation of his hardness against your front and his tail at your back is almost overwhelming.

“Your fault, kitten. You and that fucking strawberry last week,” he growls again, flexes his hips into yours. “That cat I was petting was unhappy with how roughly I handled it while you cockteased me with your cake,” he gasps as you grind back into him, as you widen your legs to let his tail do whatever it wants, restricted only by your sleep shorts. “The evol kitties cursed me for petting without paying, and for roughing up the cat.”

You can’t help it. Even through the pleasure, you burst out laughing.

“They cursed you with a tail and ears, and that’s why you avoided me all week?” It’s absurd. All that worry, thinking that he’d finally grown bored with you, because he was too, what? Embarrassed? to reveal that he’d been given such adorable attributes. “You mean we could have been doing this all week?” you ask, incredulous, as his tail rubs against your sensitive spots through your shorts, as it nudges you again and again, as Sylus loudly purrs from the pleasure you rubbing his ears and the friction against his big dick is bringing him.

He opens his eyes, half-lidded, lips parted, panting. One of his hands drifts down your back and takes a handful of your ass, pulling, bringing your hips against his cock again. He grinds you on himself, leans forward, licks a swipe up the side of your face.

“The biological markers that were affected by the ears and tail are tied to my own evol—I don’t have my ability to manipulate energy so long as this curse lasts,” he says, breath hitching with the movement of your bodies.

You lean forward, press your forehead against his, share his panting breath. “What does that have to do with not calling me?” you manage, even though all you want to do is rip his pants down, shove down your own shorts, and impale yourself on him.

“Didn’t want you to see me as weak,” he admits. He opens his eyes, looks into yours. He then kisses you with his full lips, soft, slow, in contrast to his tail still nudging you through your shorts at a steady rhythm, teasing, teasing, teasing.

You pull back from his kiss, catch his gaze again. “Even without your evol, you’re still one of the strongest people I’ve ever met,” you whisper.

He pauses, his ears flattening again. “Just ‘one of’ the strongest people you've met?”

You laugh. “I know a lot of strong people Sy. And your new bits are cute, just like you.” His tail firmly nudges you again, once, as if to warn you. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you tease him.

He just groans and kisses you again, his tongue slipping between your lips, his big hands moving to shove down your shorts. “I don’t make threats,” he says, low, smug. “I make promises.”

You roll your eyes, but neither of you talk any more after that.

***

Much, much later, after you’re thoroughly fucked out, muscles pleasantly sore, as Sylus purrs beside you in sleep, one arm flung over you, you lie awake thinking about his admission of worrying about being 'weak' in front of you. Of the vulnerability in his questions—why didn’t you call him if you were worried? Would you really replace him within a week?

You’ve been so wrapped up in your own insecurities, so busy trying to protect yourself from what you think is the inevitable pain of being abandoned, that you’ve never stopped to consider what Sylus may worry about. What his insecurities may be. He has always seemed so larger than life to you, from the very beginning. Invincible. Solitary and strong. But as you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve also had glimpses of his own tender heart, the same tender heart he warns you about having—a liability in his vicious world. The care he shows the twins, who he insists are just his henchmen but clearly love him like family. His meticulous maintenance of Mephisto, whenever the bird needs parts switched out, cleaning, or upgrades. His habit of masking his true feelings by maintaining a look of boredom, as if revealing such feelings is a vulnerability that even those closest to him could exploit. Even his tendency to cheat at kitty cards—his luck is so bad, and he works so hard to compensate for it in the best way that his brutal life has taught him. In the end, Sylus is just a person, like anyone else. Complicated. Layered. Strong and vulnerable, cruel and kind. You’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about him as something you crave, something you adore, as well as something you fear, a threat to your heart. Not always as just a person, with feelings of his own.

Feelings that include feelings for you, specifically. He has never hidden his care for you, not since those first days of knowing him. Even if he looks indifferent, the words coming out of his mouth are always achingly straightforward, and sweet in a way that sounds sarcastic but you have learned is actually simply the unvarnished truth. His actions—his gifts, his texting, calling, physical clinginess when you’re with him—in the quiet dark, with Sylus’s soft snores next to you, his cat ears twitching even in sleep, you realize how utterly unfair you’ve been to him. How one-sided this relationship has been up until now in a lot of ways.

You’re suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to show him how much you care about him too. How safe he is with you, just as he makes you feel safe whenever you’re together. You recognize that you need to do some work on yourself. That it’s not normal to go through life terrified of being abandoned. That the past does not predict the future. You can’t spend the rest of your relationship with Sylus, no matter how long or short it lasts, punishing him for the pain others have caused you.

You roll over in the dark and pepper his face with soft kisses, each one a silent apology for not calling him this week, when he probably needed to be reassured that you still care for the version of him with ears and a tail and stripped of his god-like abilities. How worried must he still be, moving through the world without such abilities, without his customary armor against a hostile world that wants him caged or dead?

As you lean over him, trailing your lips along his skin, his arms snake around you and pull you closer.

“Tell me what I did to deserve this, so I can do it again,” he says, voice raspy from sleep. His tail wraps around your waist.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you whisper between kisses.

“A hunter’s trade secret?” You can hear his smile in the dark.

“A lover’s inability to properly articulate that all you have to do is continue being you.”

His tail tightens around you, and its end wildly thwacks your back. “That sounded pretty articulate to me. Your words are honeyed—is there a catch?”

You kiss him on his soft lips. His hands run along your hair, down your back.

“Only one way to find out,” you tease.

“I see you’re done pouting. Do I get any other rewards for just being me?” he asks, sly.

“Only one way to find out,” you repeat, nudging his nose with yours.

“Oh, I like surprises.”

“I know,” you say, because you do know that. You know so much about this man already.

He pauses, catches your gaze. “Keep it a secret, okay?”

Yet again, he’s showing you his weakness. Reminding you that he’s taking a risk by being here with you at all, just like you are risking your heart, and everything else, by being here with him. “Your secrets are safe with me, Sy.”

He holds you tighter in response, and you fall asleep in his arms. You don’t dream about anything at all.

***

In the morning, after you’ve made him coffee, after you’ve eaten breakfast and you’ve lounged on the couch with him, watching something stupid on tv while he browses online auctions, you tell him about your Snowy Owl mission. He’s heard of this person, but they’re not colleagues or rivals, moving in different circles. But he knows where to locate them, and you form a plan, inspired by Snowy Owl’s interest in modified wanderers and humans, and Sylus’s twitching ears.

“You want me to act as your catboy butler.” He says it flatly. “Boring.”

You nod. “And I’ll be your owner, willing to sell you to the highest bidder.”

His ears flatten against his hair, despite his bored expression, and his tail whips back and forth, back and forth, slowly. He really hates the idea.

“Do you have a better plan?” you ask.

“Better than you selling me off to someone else? I can think of a few. A carefully placed bomb on the cruise ship, for one.” At your look of discomfort, he continues. “You don’t even have to come. Just check off the mission as accomplished on your little Association to-do list.”

You scowl at him. “I’m supposed to bring Snowy Owl in, not assassinate them.”

“Boring,” he repeats.

“I’m not actually selling you to anyone, Sy. I just need a small distraction, much smaller than a bomb,” you cut him off as he opens his mouth. “While I plant a tracking device with them, once we pinpoint who they are.”

He leans over, rubs his cheek against yours. “What’s my reward for considering this utterly boring plan?” He drags your hand to the base of his tail.

You take the hint, grasping his tail firmly, and he groans. You pull a little, and he lets you, rolling onto his stomach on the couch. You straddle the back of his big, meaty thighs and begin palming his tail, starting at the base where it meets the skin of his lower back, circling your thumb and forefinger around it even though it’s thick enough that your fingers don’t meet. You pull, and pet, over and over again, and his purrs are so loud they start to vibrate the couch.

“Say yes,” you demand. “Put that tux and your new parts to good use before the concert.”

“Fine,” he gasps, as his hips jerk a little, pressing himself into the couch.

“Excellent!” You spring to your feet, heading to the shower. There’s not a moment to waste if you’re going to get this mission over with before his tail and ears disappear.

“Stingy!” he yowls. Literally yowls, like a big tomcat thwarted in his attempt at mating by a mean owner yanking him into the house from the alley where his would-be mate was waiting.

“Consider that the down payment. Upon delivery of your promise, you’ll get the rest,” you say in a sing-song voice, just to further annoy him.

“I want double!” he yowls again, but anything else he might be whining about is cut off when you let the bathroom door close behind you.

***

Sylus has been impeccable for the duration of your agreed-upon mission. Poised, elegant, obedient. He has tolerated you treating him like an object to be admired and dismissed on a whim, even when people approached you not just to express interest in your catboy butler up for bidding, but also when they showed interest in getting to know the mysterious owner of said catboy butler more intimately.

The only indication that he was perhaps not entirely pleased with his code name was a flick of his cat ears and one hard thwack of his tail against the rail of the cruise ship when you first said, “Please fetch me more of the strata, Mister Whiskers,” in front of the other guests on the dining deck.

Furthermore, he only tried to attack and eat one person’s pet parrot, and he dropped the seagulls he kept catching at each ordered “Drop it, Mister Whiskers!” from you every time.

All in all, you think that you’re having a harder time than he is. High tea is over, seagulls have been caught and released, and you’ve already collected a number of business cards and varying degrees of subtle invitations to further discuss your catboy butler. You’ve navigated each diplomatically, and are rather proud of yourself, but your own patience is wearing thin as you stand at a luxurious bar in a small lounge on one of the upper decks of the cruise ship. The floor to ceiling windows give a lovely view of the blood-red sunset over the water—it reminds you of Sylus’s eyes. The evening, and therefore the black market trading, is about to begin in earnest. You’re waiting for a mocktail—you’re on the job, and you are a professional after all—when yet another person sidles up to you. Sylus, who has been standing at a respectable distance from you at relaxed attention, hands crossed behind his back, looking coolly over the people scattered at elegant standing tables, ears swiveling at constant alert, looks toward the newcomer, but he makes no move to come closer to you. It occurs to you that one of the reasons you are feeling increasingly off-kilter is that you are so used to Sylus touching you, draping himself over you, maintaining at least a sliver of contact at all times, that this respectful distance makes you feel like he’s standing on the other side of a great canyon.

You turn to the person who is trying to join you at the bar. He’s handsome. Tall, muscular. Dressed nicely, with subtle style. Nothing like your boyfriend’s flashy jeweled necklaces and bold colors. His blue eyes are startling in contrast to his black hair.

“Hi,” he says, smiling a little ruefully, like he wanted to open with something better, but this is all he could think of. He knows that he’s handsome and can skate by on the bare minimum.

You smile faintly back at him, despite wishing Sylus would come closer. “Hi,” you say. You’re not going to do all the work, dammit. This guy wants something from you, not the other way around.

“You’ve caused quite a stir tonight with your… companion,” he says, dark eyebrows lifting, gaze darting to Sylus and back to you again. “It’s made for more entertainment than usual on nights like these.”

You lift an eyebrow in response. “Oh? How so?”

“Watching the sharks circling and getting into tussles about who will ultimately have your pet.”

Your stomach twists at hearing someone other than Sylus calling him a pet. He’s not your pet. He’s your partner. He’s a whole person—a complicated, vicious, funny, cruel, gentle man. You suddenly hate the appraising look this asshole is giving him. But you’re a professional, damn it. You smile wider, going for seductive, amused, haughty.

“No need to tussle,” you tilt your head. “It’s simple. Offer the highest bid, and congratulations, you’re the owner of a new, obedient, exotic pet.”

The fuckhead eyeing Sylus chuckles heartily, as if what you said isn’t disgusting but the height of rich-asshole humor.

“I like the idea of owning the obedience of such a big, powerful creature. Is he willing to do anything you ask?”

The way his gaze keeps flicking to Sylus, as if he can’t help himself, makes you want to remove his eyes with one of your knives and wear them as a warning to anyone else who dares look at Sylus with such depraved, cruel desire.

“Place the winning bid and maybe you’ll find out,” you say coyly, somehow controlling your homicidal urges. Barely.

“Something to consider.” He shakes his head, as if trying to break the spell Sylus seems to have over him. “In any case, after a while, all these events start blurring together. May I buy you a drink, to thank you for dumping new blood in the water?”

This guy is the pinnacle of rich guy ennui. He probably would enjoy dog fights or hunting other people for sport, anything to break through his privileged, seen-it-all, can-buy-it-all numbness. Despite sharing the same status of filthy rich elite, this piece of shit is everything that Sylus isn’t. You want to hunt him for sport. Your nerves are fraying, and it’s getting harder and harder to maintain your composure.

“Shame, I just ordered a drink.”

He leans closer, invades your space.

“Why not indulge? You can have two drinks. And after, perhaps you’d like to show me just what your cat can do… a sort of preview, if you will.” He leans even closer, tilts his head as if a new thought has just occurred to him. “Is there perhaps a possibility of bidding for the pair, instead of just the butler?”

You realize that he’s propositioning you as well as your catboy butler, but the fury you feel at the idea of using Sylus for this fuckhead’s viewing pleasure overrides even your indignation at the insinuation that you, too, are for sale.

Suddenly Sylus’s warmth is at your back and the effect is immediate. Your murderous rage settles inside of you. You turn to him, lift an eyebrow like the imperious owner you’re supposed to be, slightly irritated at your servant’s interruption of… whatever this asshole at the bar thinks he’s getting away with. “Speak,” you command, imitating the most imperious man you know. Sylus, as he has done the entire duration of your appearance in public on this ship, does not react at all to your obvious inside joke.

“My owner,” he purrs deferentially, dipping his head. “You asked that I escort you back to your cabin at 21:00 in order to properly prepare for the bidding.”

The asshole’s gaze drifts from Sylus to you and back again. “A possessive cat, I see. What will he do, when his owner abandons him to another?”

You shrug, as if you don’t want to pull this guy’s tongue out of his mouth and garrotte him with it.

“As I said, buy him and find out,” you breathe through the nausea, trying desperately to stay in character—you are the same ilk as this guy, here to pawn your broken, loyal manservant onto anyone who can afford him. “But he’s right. Thank you for the interesting … offer, but the auction is about to begin. Tick tock, tick tock.”

“You’re a very good salesperson,” he smirks, as if pleased with the idea of depriving Sylus of his beloved owner and seeing if he can bend him to his will. You can’t see why you ever thought him handsome at all. “A raincheck, then, on the drink, and perhaps your own company.”

You just lower your head slightly, barely suppressing the urge to put this man on the ground and punch his smug smile until he is permanently unrecognizable, and the intensity of your renewed desire to hurt him for daring to even look at Sylus has you reaching for Sylus’s arm for support. He tucks your hand into his elbow and leads you out of the lounge.

When you finally reach your first class cabin on this pretentious floating black market, however, you see the strain that his flawless behavior has placed on your miscreant boyfriend.

As soon as the door closes behind you, he growls, deep in his throat, and spins, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you more roughly than usual through the elegant sitting room—the place looks like the interior designer was trying to recreate the staterooms of the Titanic—to the bedroom. Without letting go of your wrist, he yanks the scarlet velvet duvet and crisp white sheets from the bed and dumps them on the floor. The ocean glitters under the bright moonlight outside the bedroom’s window, the salt scent strong. The bed successfully stripped, Sylus now tries to jerk you onto the mattress, but you dig your heels into the plush carpet, feet dragging because despite your own strength, you can’t match his. You jerk your wrist from his grasp and whirl on him. You are willing to die for him, but you aren’t going to let him manhandle you like this.

“What is wrong with you?” you demand, rubbing your wrist.

“If I still had my evol, you’d be on the bed.” His voice is still calm, but his tail flicks angrily.

“If you still had your evol, I hope you wouldn’t use it on me when you’re this upset,” you glare at him.

He doesn’t respond, just begins to pace. Around the bed. Back into the sitting room. He veers into the bathroom and then returns to the bedroom. The anxious energy he’s giving off is palpable—you’ve never seen him this agitated in the entire time you’ve known him.

The longer he’s quiet, the more concerned you become.

“Sylus?” you ask, softly. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m Sylus again? Not Mister fucking Whiskers?”

You stare at him. Your boyfriend, who is always up for teasing pet names and playful banter, is looking at you like he’s genuinely angry about the silly code name.

“Sylus—?”

His tail is thrashing back and forth as he continues to pace, ears flat against his hair. “Are you sure you’re interested in hearing how Mister Whiskers is doing now? You didn’t seem to be too interested when you were being fawned over by your suitors.”

You stare at him. At the tension he’s holding in his body, the wild movements of his tail.

“Sylus—”

“This was a boring plan to begin with, and now it’s even less interesting. You already have a mountain of gifts from my bidders—leave. Go through them to see if Snowy Owl has taken the bait so we can get this charade over with,” he snaps, effectively dismissing you. He sits on the side of the bed and puts his head in his hands.

With each harsh word, you feel your insides folding in on themselves. He hasn’t spoken to you like this since he held you captive when you first met. He promised he’d never treat you like that again, but you realize he never promised to never speak to you like that again.

Normally, how he’s talking to you—if it were any other person, you’d be out the door. Gone, ghosted. You speak to yourself cruelly enough every day in your own head, you don’t need that shit from other people. You’re even more shocked that it’s coming from Sylus, of all people. The Sylus who has cared for you so patiently, through all the time you’ve been together since that first auction. Who kills with his bare hands, but touches you with those same hands as if you’re made of glass. Until tonight.

You are tempted to run as the betrayal, confusion, and fear of the inevitable end course through you. To just stuff the gifts waiting for you on the sitting room’s coffee table into one of the big duffels you brought, move to another room, and wing the rest of the operation without Sylus. You can pose as a fucking waiter once you figure out Snowy Owl’s identity. You don’t need him for this mission. And you don’t need him in your fucking life, if this is his true self.

As you’re almost to the door leading to the hallway, reaching for the handle, you suddenly remember your promise to yourself, just a few nights ago—the night Sylus came to your place and you learned why he had gone silent for a whole week.

Your resolution that you wouldn’t give in to your fear at his expense anymore, that you would show him you care for him, just as he has done so for you through all of your time together. Even when he witnessed your worst moments, he did not walk away from you. He stayed, even as you pushed him away.

You think about how he was afraid for you to see him stripped of his power, as if you’d ever think him weak, and think less of him for something outside of his control. If I still had my evol, you’d be on the bed. How unnerving must it be for him to be in this shark’s tank without his ability to protect himself beyond his own body? It suddenly occurs to you that if he gets injured while his power is suppressed, he won’t heal like he normally does. The idea that he could get seriously hurt while here, helping you on a mission that has nothing to do with him, hurts a hundred times worse than the words he just snapped at you.

Weren’t you just furious with that fuck from the cocktail lounge for talking about Sylus like he was an object, instead of a person? Sylus is a human being. He’s not a god. He’s not perfect. He’s just a complicated man, a complicated man who hurt you with his harsh words tonight, but who has steadfastly shown how much he cares for you in the best way he knows how. Who could be expected to act normally, to be their best self, if one were to find oneself fundamentally changed, stripped of a lifetime of skill and ability, experiencing strange new urges, and to top it all off, thrown into a dangerous situation?

You turn and walk back through the sitting room, to the bedroom where he’s sitting, head still in his hands. You stand in front of him.

“Sylus.”

He doesn’t respond. You reach out, gently grip his chin, and lift his face.

He lets you, docile. His cat ears are drooping.

“Tell me,” you order.

He refuses to look at you. His tail swishes petulantly behind him.

“Tell. Me.” You tighten your hold on his jaw.

His eyes flick to yours, but he keeps his face turned away. “Caracal’s hate water.”

You gaze into his beautiful eyes, fire-lit gems. “And a caracal is the type of cat that you’ve partly mutated into?”

He nods, just a little movement of his head.

“And I brought you onto a boat, surrounded by water.”

He finally turns his head to face you, gazing at you but not responding.

“What else?” You relax your hold on his jaw, moving your palm to cup his cheek and bring up your other hand into his hair, running your fingers through the soft strands.

“Each person who shook your hand, who handed you their business card, who leaned too close to you… their stench is all over you.”

You run your fingers through his hair until you reach one of his cat ears and gently begin to rub it. He closes his eyes and he leans into your touch.

“What else?”

“If this plan goes sideways, I won’t be able to protect you.”

With each admission, his shoulders relax. His face softens. But there’s still something bothering him. You search his beautiful face. His tail flicks, flicks, flicks.

“What else, Sy?” You lean down, rest your cheek against his soft hair. His ears are velvet against your skin.

He reaches out and clasps the backs of your thighs to pull you closer to him and rests his forehead against your chest. “Even if it’s just for the mission, are you really okay with letting someone else have me?”

It takes you a moment, but when you realize what he’s saying, you’re floored.

Sylus has spent the whole evening watching you laugh off multiple peoples’ offers to take over ownership of your catboy butler. He watched you tell that little bitch at the bar, more than once, to buy Sylus to find out how obedient he is, how he’ll react to being parted from his beloved owner. Each time, you responded in character, like the idea didn’t bother you at all. Because that’s what the mission required.

You realize that this entire ordeal has made him insecure. He wants you to be jealous. He wants you to be possessive of him. The thought never once crossed your mind that he would be bothered by the cover you planned for this mission. He is always so self-assured, only hinting at flashes of jealousy in playful, dismissive terms. And yet he doesn’t want you to be okay with the idea of him being possessed by another, no matter how briefly, no matter how falsely.

You continue to pet him as you let everything he just admitted sink in. The water, other peoples’ scents on your body, his lack of power at the moment, your lack of jealousy at the mere idea that another would have him.

After all the times Sylus has comforted you, cared for you, solved problems for you, it’s now your turn to do the same for him.

You drop your hands and he looks back up at you with such raw longing that you almost can’t step away. But you must.

“Would you like to abort the mission?”

He looks at you in confusion. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is your job.”

You smile down at him helplessly. “Don’t you realize by now that you’re more important to me than my job?”

He sucks in a breath.

“How else could I be with the most wanted man on the planet?”

“The only reason I have been able to repress my instincts through this whole shitshow is reminding myself how important this mission is to you,” he breathes, closing his eyes.

“Your instincts?”

“You have no idea,” he says through clenched teeth. His tail is violently flicking again. You can’t bear to see him so distressed.

“Yes or no. Forget what you think I want. If it’s too much, we leave right now.”

Eyes still closed, ears still flattened to his head, he shakes his head no.

“Okay.” You turn, but he reaches out and grabs your wrist to stop you leaving. You put your hand over his. “Since I can’t remove the ship from the water, I’m just closing the window and the curtains so you don’t have to see it.”

He reluctantly releases your wrist. You do as you promised, and when you’re done you return to stand between his legs.

“What do you need to do about how I smell?”

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He grasps your wrist again, pulling your closer. He grabs the hem of your outfit and pulls, tugging it over your head, lifting your legs one by one to tear off your shoes, tossing everything into the farthest corner of the room, until you’re standing in front of him in your underwear. He then pulls you down onto the bed with him, rolling you under him. He presses his face into your neck and rubs, rubs, his tail wagging behind him, his ears brushing against your skin again, their softness making you want to grab them and pull, pull, the cuteness aggression difficult to contain. You satisfy yourself by running your hands through his hair, gripping slightly, tugging, releasing.

As he rubs his cheeks all over you, he pauses to lick your skin, runs his hands along your shoulders, your arms, your waist.

After a long time, his manic movements slow and he inhales deeply. “You have no idea how hard it was to resist the urge to piss on your shoes while you were talking to that bastard in the cocktail lounge.”

You freeze. “Piss… on my shoes?”

“Didn’t you know? Cats urinate to mark their territory,” he licks your skin again, purrs. “And you’re my territory, sweetheart.”

You don’t even know how to feel about his admission. “Well… I might be willing to die for you, but I draw the line at letting you pee on me. So thank you, for not giving in to your caracal urges.”

He pauses, lifts his head. “Don’t fucking say you’ll die, ever again,” he growls. “I forbid it.”

You laugh, a little breathlessly. You decide it’s not a good time to point out that you will, in fact, someday die. Probably sooner than the average human, with your job. So you just say “Okay.”

He looks mollified and his tail begins to swish playfully again. “So that’s a no on watersports, in the future?”

You scowl at him. “Just try to piss on me and see what happens.”

“That sounds like a challenge. And you know that’s like catnip to this big cat. Are you sure you aren’t actually interested in golden showers?”

All you can do is laugh, and pull him down to you, and kiss him so he’ll shut the fuck up about peeing on you.

After a few minutes of mauling him, you groan and pull away.

“If we don’t want this entire thing to be a waste, we need to check the contacts we made today and finish the mission before the auction is over.”

He rests his head against your shoulder. “I know, but I don’t want to get off you. No one can hurt you as long as you’re under me,” he grumbles.

You stare at the ceiling and run your hands through his hair again, fondling his cat ears. “I survived before I met you, because I’m a fucking badass. I’m strong enough for the both of us, especially for a covert mission like this. We go through the business cards and gifts, pinpoint Snowy Owl’s room, you distract them for ten minutes while I plant surveillance, we get the fuck out before the auction’s over.”

“You and I both know how quickly plans get fucked,” he murmurs into your skin.

“And you and I both know that I am skilled enough to unfuck it. And with you here, even without your evol, it’s going to be okay.”

His tail lifts, curls up your leg.

“Fine.” He rolls off of you reluctantly, and you immediately miss his weight. “But the reward for going along with your plan is now tripled.”

“You can have anything you want, when this is over,” you promise, sliding off the bed and gathering your clothes from the floor.

“Even a golden shower?”

You throw your shoe at him. He just catches it and laughs, relaxed again.

After you’re dressed, the two of you tear into the gifts people sent hoping to gain your favor and therefore an advantage in the auction for your catboy butler. Sylus, the spoiled creature that he is, tosses multiple priceless trinkets aside like they’re trash, complaining about being bored out of his mind. However, he bats at a feathered butt plug before realizing what he’s doing and then tosses it as well. The only other thing he expresses even a passing interest in is a little spray can with DOCTOR SLEEPYTIME printed on the side, with the caption reading, “A stalker’s new best friend! Never worry about your target waking up too early again! Ten fewer side effects than chloroform!” You squint at it. The legal disclaimers are a solid block of text underneath the caption. Apparently, one of the side effects that it still shares with chloroform is death. You don’t comment when you see Sylus slip it into the breast pocket of his tux, not even wanting to know what he has planned for it. Finally, you open a small box and realize that the weird little thing inside matches the description the Association provided you of Snowy Owl’s calling card.

“Got you,” you whisper triumphantly, pawing through the packaging to figure out which room it came from.

Sylus stands, prepared to play his part in this little ruse, but you stop him before he opens the door. “Wait a second,” you say, running to the bedroom, throwing open your luggage in the cabin’s closet, and pulling out what you had hastily prepared in anticipation of this mission.

You return to Sylus with the item hidden behind your back.

“You asked if I’m really okay with the idea of sending you to someone else.”

He just watches you in silence, ears twitching in curiosity, tail swishing behind him.

“Of course I’m not. You don’t know how badly I wanted to slit that fucker’s throat who talked about you like you’re not even a person. I feel sick at the idea of anyone else looking at you with anything less than respect and admiration, let alone as some kind of object to be owned. I can’t even stand the thought that I own you. You are wholly your own person, and I’m just happy that you want me by your side, and allow me to adore you.”

His tail swishes faster the longer you speak, but stills at your last sentence. “But you do own me. Body and soul.”

You swallow through the thickness in your throat. You’re not going to cry at his absurd, devoted answer.

“Then perhaps you will do me the honor of wearing this while we’re apart.” You show him the soft black leather collar. “It can only be placed on you, and taken off you, by a person whose pheromones match those of your owner. Your true owner.”

“So this was your trump card,” he murmurs, tail thwacking against the door so hard that the door vibrates.

You shrug. “You don’t have to wear it.”

He flattens his ears against his head. “Nonsense. Put it on me,” he commands imperiously.

You try to hide your smile, but probably fail. “In that case, I hope it will remind you that I am definitely not okay with sending you to someone else. But none of this is real, and when we’re off this boat, I’m never going to ask you to do something like this again.”

He reaches out and wraps his hand around your wrist. “How many times must we go over this? You can ask anything of me.”

“Just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to.”

Without waiting for his answer, you unclasp the collar and lift onto your tiptoes to thread it around his neck. He growls softly, in annoyance or exasperation, and sinks to his knees in front of you.

As always when Sylus kneels before you, you’re overcome with a sense of wrongness. But he seems to want to give this to you, to drive home the point that anything he has is yours for the taking. You can’t find it in yourself to refuse him by insisting that you could have reached his neck just fine without him having to kneel.

You lay the collar against his neck, thread the end through the buckle, and tighten it. His eyes are half-lidded, the glow of his irises spilling from between his eyelashes. He seems to be enjoying this so much that you tighten it just a little bit beyond what is necessary, just to see his reaction. He lets out a pathetic little gasp, and you loosen it, worried you’ve hurt him. But his chest expands and his ears droop, almost as if he’s disappointed. So you tighten it again. “Yes,” he breathes.

You stand there, with this gorgeous, half-feral man at your feet, fingering the pendant of the collar. You couldn’t afford the platinum that you think Sylus deserves, so silver had to do. But you did splurge a little to have your initials engraved on the inner side of the pendant, so that it’s pressed against his skin where no one else can see it. Your little secret against his pulse.

“We need to get moving, Sy,” you whisper, regretfully.

He rises gracefully to his feet.

“If you want it taken off, just ask.”

He gives you a disdainful look, his only response a tsking sound on his tongue. He leans down, kisses you, once, hard, and then straightens. He turns, throws open the door, and disappears down the hallway.

The rest of the mission goes off without a hitch. When you arrive at Snowy Owl’s door, you pick the lock easily, slip into the empty room, leave a variety of tracking devices in their possessions, and slip out again unseen.

You return to your room, prepared to wait for Sylus, trying to suppress the worry that he’ll have to put up with yet another handsy asshole all because he doesn't want to jeopardize your mission.

However, when you open the door, you find your big, beautiful cat already lounging on one of the sitting room’s ornate love seats, examining his nails and humming leisurely.

At his feet is the asshole from the cocktail lounge, bound, gagged, and clearly roughed up, his bloody nose dripping into the fabric of his mouth gag.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you ask.

Sylus rolls his head to look at you, lovely eyes glowing in the light of the tiffany lamps on the tables on either side of the love seat.

“I brought a gift for my owner,” he says, ears twitching between you and the asshole who started to struggle at your entrance, making little pleading whimpering noises. “I could tell how much you hated this waste of oxygen the whole time you had to endure his attention at the bar.”

“A… gift?” you repeat.

“You have no idea the self control it took to suppress the instinct to bring him to you as a corpse, as nature intended, when I was done playing with him. But I assumed that would make my owner mad,” he says languidly, but his tail is flicking in agitation.

“Okay,” you draw out the word, trying to process this… gift. “And Snowy Owl?”

“Passed out in a janitor’s closet in the ship’s casino,” he shrugs. “Doctor Sleepytime is true to its claims. A great improvement over chloroform,” he drawls. “I’ll have to leave a good review on their website.”

Relief floods through you. You’re done. The mission is almost complete. All that’s left is to get the fuck off this floating cesspool.

“Thank you,” you murmur. But you’re still left with the problem of what to do with Sylus’s ‘gift.’ “But Sy, what the fuck am I supposed to with… this.” You can’t help but sneer a little at the asshole still struggling on the ground.

“Whatever you want, my heart,” Sylus responds. “He’s wanted in Linkon City by at least three different agencies. But we could just dump him over the railing and be done with it. In fact, I’d prefer that,” he says, perking up.

You march over to him and slip a finger under his collar.

“No! Bad kitty,” you scold, pulling a little on the leather, intending to simply tease him for his outrageous suggestion.

Sylus just gasps, eyes going half lidded again. You stop in surprise at the clear pleasure your rough treatment is causing him, but he wraps his hand around your wrist and moves your hand again, tightening the collar against his neck once more.

“If I’m a bad kitty, you better keep a tight hold on me to make sure I don’t drag home any other unwelcome surprises,” he says, voice low and rough.

“Oh?” You marvel at how lovely he looks, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly open, breathing hard. “Maybe my bad kitty needs to be punished, so he stops suggesting I murder wanted criminals instead of bringing them to justice like a professional.”

The man on the floor who is forced to witness this flirtation struggles harder, his whimpers ranging from disgusted to terrified. You ignore him.

“Oh nooo,” Sylus says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then he narrows his eyes. “You better make good on your promise. Or are you just full of empty threats?”

You lean down and press the heel of your hand onto his hard cock straining against his zipper, hard. He moans, eyelashes fluttering.

“Get us to the getaway boat without causing a scene and you’ll find out what I’m full of. Or what I’m about to be full of, if you’re a good kitty for me,” you breathe into his ear.

The man on the floor gags a little.

Sylus stands, lifting you in one arm, grabbing a full duffel bag you hadn’t noticed with the other.

“What’s that?”

“Your bad kitty helped himself to a cat treat,” he purrs.

“What kind of souvenir?”

“The loud, prone-to-exploding-if-you-shake-it-too-hard-kind.” He grins at you, canines flashing.

You can’t help yourself. You burst out laughing.

It may have started with trouncing your crimelord boyfriend at kitty cards, but it ended with you learning how to better care for your catboy boyfriend. It also ended with the arrest of both Snowy Owl and the poor bastard who had to listen to you 'punish' said boyfriend from inside the duffel bag that he was stuffed in after Sylus cut the engine of the getaway boat halfway to your destination, too impatient to wait till you both got home to claim part of his reward for being such a good, good kitty.

#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #my fanfic #love and deepspace sylus #sara answers

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